Ro⟢

So naturally, you immediately bolted away with a clumsy explanation of needing to pee.

And that was how you found yourself in the women’s room—fretting, confused, and on the verge of passing out. You dialed Jin’s number as a Hail Mary (even though he was a huge reason why you were even in this ridiculous predicament at all).

He picked up after four rings. It took thirty seconds for you to explain what happened. A moment of heavy silence passed as he took in the information, no doubt judging the shit out of you.

“So you’re telling me that One-Date Wonderboy is the gamer nerd you’ve been crushing on for the past three months?”

“Yes.” 

“And he accidentally set you up on a date with someone else because he chickened out while trying to ask you out?”

“Yes.”

“And that someone else he wanted to set you up with was… yourself. As a guy.”

“...yes.”

“And you then had Jungkook go on this date as your male-counterpart instead?”

“Okay, yeah, but that part was your idea!” 

Your whining had no effect on him. Jin sighed deeply.

“Are you absolutely positive that we can’t die?”

“Jin,” you pleaded. “Be serious. This is a huge problem for us.”

“For you,” he corrected. “Not me.”

“Excuse me? You’re partially why I’m in this mess in the first place! I have no idea what to do. Help me, please!” 

Because beyond processing that you somehow cockblocked yourself while being completely oblivious to the fact that your secret online best friend was the guy who sat behind you every Friday, you also had to figure out what to do in this exact moment.

Jay—or Jungkook, whatever—was sitting outside, expecting two people to show up: your “friend,” who was Jay’s crush, who was actually you, and Leo, who was also actually you.

“I don’t get it,” Jin started. “He likes you and you like him. What’s the problem? Just take the piss and tell him the truth.”

“Easy for you to say!” you retorted, aware that you probably sounded insane to any patron using the restroom. “He lied about knowing someone who liked me. I’ve been lying about my name and gender and my entire identity. Those two things are not the same!”

“And?” Jin sassed back. “Sure, you tip the scale in deception severity. Doesn’t change the fact that you two are idiots who like each other!”

You furrowed your brows, fighting back a headache. Jin had a point, he really did. But you weren’t ready to come clean yet. 

It was hard to imagine Jungkook and Jay as the same person. They had their similarities, for sure, but you always saw Jungkook as some breed of fuckboy, the kind that asked absurdly stupid things like “wait, what’s a continent?” just to be the center of attention. Not the dork that stumbled over his words and got way too excited at unlocking new Valorant skins.

But upon reflection, you realized that his weekly commitment to bothering you on Friday morning lectures was just his extremely poor attempt at trying to hit on you. This revelation was the equivalent of the world practically shifting on its axis. 

As Jay, he was so stupid and dorky and easily flustered—which meant trouble for your weak heart. As Jungkook, he was annoyingly cool, almost unconsciously manly, and suddenly that sent your heart into mayhem in a completely different way.

In other words: Jungkook was hot, and it was no longer just a simple fact. It was a situation.

“I… I need time,” you finally said, voice weak. You still weren’t sure how you’d face Jungkook if you had to tell him the truth. “I promise I’ll come clean. Just not right now.”

On the other side of the line, Jin sighed. “Alright. Let me think.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled. 

That was the thing about Jin, no matter how much he complained, he’d always find a way to help—even if it sometimes got you into even bigger messes. While waiting for Jin to think of something, you touched up your makeup in the mirror.

At first, you were satisfied with how you looked. Now, it felt like everything was off. Your foundation was cakey, your hair was getting messy, and your lips were too pale. You redid your hair, applied a fresh coat of your signature raspberry-flavored lipgloss, and re-examined yourself.

Were you really the girl that Jay liked? 

From your phone, content hum could be heard. That meant Jin had a plan. You grabbed your phone and pressed it to your ear in anticipation.

“I got it,” he said.  “Here’s your story.”

Jungkook didn’t want to be mad at Leo. 

He’d never been mad at him before—not when he stole his Diamonds on Minecraft and not when he duo-ed with someone else on Valorant out of sheer pettiness after a stupid argument on whose computer was better. But he had to admit he was frustrated. 

Apparently, Leo went to the wrong restaurant, one that was nearly a half an hour away by car. Better yet, he couldn’t drive, and the closest Uber was twenty-seven minutes away. 

‘Sorry, man, I don’t think I can make it anymore.’

And that was it. The call ended. What the hell.

Any moment now, you’d come back from the bathroom and find out that you had just been stood up by your date. And then your friend would come and there would be this awkward dynamic where he was supposed to be “on a date” with her even though all he wanted was to be with you.

As if on cue, you emerged from the ladies room. 

“Hey, sorry I took so long,” you said as you sat down. “Did you already get drinks?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied. “I just got us water, if that’s okay.”

“Totally fine.”

You seemed a little put out. You were in there for quite a while, now that he thought about it. Did something happen in the bathroom? Were you sick, perhaps?

“You alright?” 

Your face jolted upward, finally making eye contact with him. He hadn’t realized you’d been avoiding it.

“Yeah, of course!” you said, a little too enthusiastically. “I’m fine. It’s just, uh…” you trailed off, “My friend. She can’t make it anymore. Something came up at the last minute.”

“Oh.” Jungkook furrowed his brows, realizing something. “Wait, that’s crazy. My friend also can’t make it, actually,” he revealed. “His dumbass went to a restaurant on the other side of town by accident.”

You chuckled. He sighed, relieved that you weren’t upset and grateful that you were so understanding. Because of course you would be such an angel about it.

“Well, I guess that makes the two of us on this date instead.”

Those words echoed in his mind. You and him. On a date together. A part of him thought that you’d simply pack your bags and go home right away.

Okay, maybe with how things were going, he wasn’t so mad at Leo after all. 

“Guess so.” 

Did he sound as happy about it as he was? He hoped not.

So he tried to be normal. He really did.

But this wasn’t like any of his other dates. Those other girls, as cocky as he sounded thinking this, liked him. He wasn’t the one doing the pursuing, not until now, at least.

With those other girls, he could say whatever—mention how often he hits the gym, compliment their outfit, or even just stay silent. Most of the time, he didn’t have to carry the conversation. In fact, the girls would seem almost relieved when he didn’t talk too much, happily yapping away as if it were the first time that a man like him let the woman have a chance in the conversation.

You, however, were no more of an extrovert than he was. And maybe he was going insane, but did you seem more nervous now than how you did before you went to the bathroom?

In times like these, he asked himself: What would Taehyung do? What would Jimin say? Or hell, what would that overly confident Jackson Wang guy say?

“So… do you fuck with pasta or what,” was what he ended up with.

You blinked a few times. “Well, I guess?”

“Fire.”

Silence ensued. Should he die?

This conversation pattern continued for the next thirty-four minutes, and Jungkook—much to his dismay—was only merely thirty-four minutes closer to death. 

The odd part was, you didn’t seem to react the way most other girls would. You almost seemed… amused? 

As if every time Jungkook opened his mouth and said the words type shit or godspeed, you were one puff of air closer to bursting out into hysterical laughter. It was like you would get visibly less nervous around him the harder he tried to be manly and suave.

He almost felt offended, but he was mostly just confused—and mortified.  

Your fork swirled the last few strands of spaghetti.  The restaurant's chatter started to die down, or maybe that was just Jungkook’s senses being muted by his nerves.

Fuck. 

He still hadn’t talked about anything meaningful with you and he sure as hell did not make you swoon—let alone forget the guy that you were trying to get over in the first place.

He was scrambling for something to say, but you beat him to it.

“Hey,” you started, a curious yet mischievous glint in your voice. “I have a super random question.”

“Shoot,” he said, gulping down his drink and trying to contain the very un-elegant burp that came after.

You stopped swirling your fork around and looked at him in the eyes. 

“Do you play any video games?”

Seconds ago you were talking about how you thought Jungkook’s gym routine was interesting but he seemed to lack cardio. Where in the world did video games come from?

“Uh—yeah, um, sometimes,” he stuttered eloquently. “They’re chill I guess. I’m pretty normal about them.”

“Really?” 

You looked him up and down, as if chewing him up and spitting him out at once, an unreadable expression on your face. 

“Yeah.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I just play a little from time to time. Every guy does.”

“I see.” You went back to playing with your last bit of food. “I’m a pretty big video game fan myself.”

“Really?” His excitement slipped out before he could contain it. “You like video games? Which ones?”

You giggled, and he wasn’t sure if it was because you were excited to talk about video games or if it was something else that amused you.

“Um,” you started, chucking. “I guess I like Minecraft?” 

Minecraft, he repeated in his head. He could really work with that.

As dessert arrived, you and Jungkook launched into a passionate conversation about the rise and fall of several popular games, ranging from Minecraft, to Call of Duty, to Hitman, and hell, even Yandere Simulator. Even when your plates were scraped clean of vanilla ice cream, there was not a moment free from chatter. 

“So how did you start getting into gaming in the first place?” he asked, sipping water to nourish his hoarse throat. Had he really been talking that much?

“My older brother,” you supplied. “He forced me to play games with him growing up since he was kind of a loser and had no friends.”

“Sounds like something a little sister would say,” he joked. 

Since when did he joke around with you? When did he start feeling so… comfortable?

“Well it’s kind of embarrassing now, since I got way more invested than him. Now my game collection is like, twice the size of his.”

Jungkook thought he might’ve been dreaming. You were too perfect. He was obsessed. He tried to not show it, though.

“Is your brother much older than you?”

“Just two years.” You wiped your mouth. “What about you, any siblings?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “It’s just me.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” You hummed thoughtfully.

He tilted his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You giggled again. Man, he could really get used to that. 

“Nothing,” you said, biting back a smile. “I feel like only children have this kind of… vibe to them.”

“Vibe?” he echoed.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Like you live in your own little bubble and your personal space has never been intruded on. Kind of clueless, but it’s cute.”

At this, Jungkook genuinely considered smashing his empty glass against the wall. How else was he supposed to deal with whatever he was feeling right now?

Thank goodness he had some semblance of self-restraint left.

“Wow,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Cute isn’t the word most people would use to describe me.” 

You propped your elbows on the table, leaning in, practically staring into his soul. 

“Shocking.” 

The smile that came after could be classified as a weapon, he thought.

When the bill finally arrived, Jungkook slammed down his card, not even bothering to check the amount. Feeling cool, he even added, “I got it.”  

You didn’t resist, but instead offered to pay next time. 

Next time. 

He pinched himself. Still not a dream.

After paying the bill and pretending that it didn’t just render him protein-shake-dependent for the next five meals, you and Jungkook stepped outside. 

The cold air immediately bit his skin, wind rushing against his face. His leather jacket helped, but then he remembered that he hadn’t spotted a jacket on you earlier. He turned to you and sure enough, you were egregiously underdressed. 

So, he slid off his leather jacket and drooped it over your shoulders in one swift move. He wondered if, from your perspective, he looked cool, nonchalantly being a gentleman and all. 

“Thank you,” you muttered under your breath. 

Pink tinged your nose and cheeks—from the cold, perhaps. Or maybe from something else. Hopefully from him.

“No problem.” He grinned, satisfied with himself. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Now that you had spent a meal talking to Jungkook—really talking to him—you realized that he and Jay truly were the same person. 

And you also learned that the hottest thing a man could be was visibly nervous. 

It was so incredibly easy to read him now that you had connected the dots. Honestly, how had you not seen it before? 

The way he spoke, that goddamn laugh, and his unequivocal love for video games and all things nerdy; you saw it all the moment his eyes lit up at the mention of it alone. And now that you were looking at him more closely, you noticed how his eyes lit up at you, too.

So you really were the girl Jay had been talking about. 

You almost forgot that you were on a date with him and not just hanging out, until he draped his jacket over you in an undeniably gentlemanly fashion, his woodsy vanilla scent wrapping around you, followed by an easy: “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride home.”

That was how you found yourself in his car, a sleek black Mazda CX-5, his jacket still slung over you as he drove to your apartment. 

Conversation continued to flow easily, your replies fitting his like puzzle pieces, discussing topics ranging from what kind of car leather absorbs heat the fastest, global warming, to favorite artists. Speaking of which, he soon decided to connect his phone to the bluetooth and start playing some music. 

“For vibes.” He plugged in his phone. “Type shit,” he added on completely unnecessarily, but the lilt in his voice made you think he was in on the joke too—as if he was aware of how silly he sounded saying stuff like that.

It was hard to not start laughing at his music choice, though. You saw right through him and his “tough boy” act as he put on a The Weeknd playlist, because you knew he actually preferred jamming to Japanese city pop and Ariana Grande. 

Halfway through the ride, he picked up his phone and handed it over to you with a casual offer:

“You can put on a song, if you want.”

“Sure.” You smirked, taking his phone and queuing up a song that you knew to be one of his absolute favorites. “Thanks.”

When the familiar melody filled the air, you couldn’t help but stare as his eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. He quickly composed himself, though. 

“This is a nice song,” he commented, trying to be casual.

“Mhm.” You were going straight to hell. It was too fun to mess with him. “It’s one of my favorites.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes, seeing him fighting back a grin.

To anyone else, he probably just looked like some cool, smug macho guy. Black dress shirt with the top three buttons unfastened, revealing the tiniest sliver of his (regrettably sexy) chest. One hand on the wheel—the tattooed one, mind you—and the other against his face, elbow propped up against the door.

Don’t get it wrong, you really did find him hot. Jungkook always was.

But when he snuck cheeky little peeks at you in between light-hearted conversation and red lights, you’d catch a glimpse of someone else: Jay. 

The guy who watched as a kid on Roblox crashed out after you stole his Robux (you returned it later, you swore). The guy who shared playlists and fangirled (fanboyed?) over star e-sports player Faker with you.

At the same time, he was also the guy who sat behind you in your morning economics class and always had something stupid but kind of funny to say. He had piercings and tattoos. His whole face scrunched when he laughed and his eyes were wide and round. 

And goodness, if you didn’t like him already, you seemed to fall for him all the more. You couldn’t get enough of him.

But alas, your apartment complex finally came into view as Jungkook pulled into the parking lot, which could only mean one thing: it was time to tell him that you were actually Leo. 

Better sooner than later, you repeated to yourself like a mantra. 

You had your fun already; it wouldn’t be good to keep it a secret much longer. He’d understand, right? Your palms started sweating even though you were still cold.

His car locked into place as he shifted gears to park. The song playing came to an abrupt pause as his phone disconnected. 

Your breath caught in your throat. This was really happening.

Was this it? How many seconds did you have left to confess your deep, dark secret before you surpassed a socially acceptable amount of time to just sit in his car fidgeting?

“I can walk you to your door,” he offered with the click of his seatbelt unfastening. “It’s pretty late.”

Ever the gentleman, Jungkook reached over and unbuckled for you, arm swooping across your torso. For half a second, his face was dangerously close to yours and your stomach did a weird flippy floppy thing that you quickly swallowed.

“Are you sure?” you asked, gathering your belongings from your lap. “It’s quite a climb. Four flights of stairs.”

“Worth it,” he said simply, with a sincerity that made your heart stutter a bit.

And then he was out the car, rounding the front to your side. 

Your door swung open.

He towered over you, one arm leaning on the hood of the car, the other one gesturing for you to take his hand as you stood. Boyish grin. A galaxy in his eyes. 

Just how in the world was he so… so—

 “You ready?”  he asked, voice low. 

Oh fuck this shit. You were royally screwed. 

You took his hand and stepped out, missing its warmth when he let go.

The walk to your apartment was mostly silent. 

Well, for him at least. 

Your thoughts were loud, going a mile a minute, and with every second you considered another way of telling him that you were Leo.

You thought about just blurting out: “By the way, I’m Leo, your online best friend! And I’ve been lying to you about my entire identity!” Or maybe you could do something more clever, like ask for his Discord tag only to show him that you already had it, just under the username of @/leolovesgamez. 

Or maybe you just wouldn’t tell him at all. Okay no, that wouldn’t be right, you quickly chided yourself.

Before you knew it, your apartment door was right in front of your face. You stopped, stomach dropping to your feet. 

“Looks like we’re here.” Jungkook was the one to break the silence. 

“Looks like it.” God, it was like your throat folded in on itself. You fished for your keys, jabbing it into the keyhole and unlocking it with a soft click.  “Um, thanks for everything. For paying and for the date… and stuff.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said easily. “I’m sorry again about my friend.” He paused for a moment. “And uh, I don’t know how to say this but…”

You swallowed. “I also—”

“I think that—”

You shook your head. “You first. Sorry, I interrupted you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He seemed almost grateful for the interruption. 

“What were you saying again?” you asked again.

His eyes danced around until they finally landed on yours with a steeled look of courage. 

“I just wanted to say that tonight was a lot of fun.” He gave a tentative chuckle. “And um, that friend of mine, don’t worry about him. I’ll settle things with him. But I really liked—” he gestured vaguely to the two of you, “—this.”

You laughed, feeling like you were breathing through your heart instead of your lungs. He joined you with an awkward snicker.

“So,” he started with a bit more confidence. “What I’m saying is, if that guy you were talking about keeps being an oblivious idiot… we should do this again.” A pause to take a breath. ”Or at least I’d really like to.”

The sincere confession swept through you like the winds that parted cloudy skies, even if you already knew he liked you.

“Me too,” was what you managed to choke out.

He grinned, eyes crinkling in the way that they did when someone was really, truly happy.

“Awesome.” 

Not type shit, godspeed, or fire—but awesome.

“And what was it that you wanted to say again?” he asked, visibly more relaxed now.

Your heart couldn’t take this any longer, you thought. Any more of this—any more of him—and you’d surely pass out. Maybe have a heart attack. 

“Oh, goodness! What was it?” You laughed. Perhaps a bit too loudly. “Sorry, it’s just that…” 

‘I’m actually your online best friend, Leo.’ 

It was like your body physically rejected those words in favor of choking on air instead.

“You okay?”

“Yep! Sorry. I’m… fine. Totally fine.” It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anything. You shook your head. “I guess it’s kind of hard to say out loud.”

He smiled without an ounce of judgement. 

“How about you whisper it then?” He joked, leaning down and cupping his ears. 

For a moment, he didn’t move, lingering in case you really did want to whisper it. Despite him hunching over slightly, you still had to tiptoe to reach his ear. 

His body stiffened, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually take him up on the offer. But he stayed still, giving you the opportunity. 

Then, everything was too much at once. His woodsy vanilla scent. His face, merely centimeters from your own. You opened and closed your mouth but nothing came out.

You liked him. And he liked you, too, you reminded yourself. Wasn’t that enough? Why did it have to be more complicated than that? 

He was still waiting for you to say something. But you couldn’t.

And maybe something possessed you again, because you weren’t quite sure how to justify your next actions.

You kissed his cheek.

It was brief, but definitely there. Warm. Soft. Fleeting.

He jolted back, pupils blown out, eyes fluttering to you. A tiny smack of shimmering lipgloss stuck to his skin, which he brought a hand up to gently touch.

“Y–y–you just—”

Face probably redder than a tomato, you stumbled back into your door, swinging it open. 

“Sorry!” you yelped.  “And um, thank you for everything!”

Then, you pivoted inside and slammed the door shut.

Now in your apartment, there was only silence, which left more room for your racing thoughts.

You turned, back sliding down the door panel until you landed on the floor with a thump. A trembling hand rested over your heart, as if that would do anything about how it was thudding relentlessly against your chest. 

Your other hand clamped over your mouth, muffling a strangled, high-pitched, ‘ohmygod.’

Then you traced your lips with a finger. You just kissed his cheek.

Why the hell did you do that? Why couldn’t you just say what you wanted to say like a normal person? What if he hated it? 

Heat climbed up your neck, which made you realize that you still had his leather jacket. Taking it off, you clutched it tightly and took a whiff of it like a weirdo—then immediately cursed yourself after.

Gosh, you were such an idiot. A stupid, hopeless idiot. You didn’t even want to call Jin about it this time—which was how you knew it was really bad.

But even if you wanted to, you couldn’t, because not even ten seconds later your phone started to ring, another familiar contact popping up on the screen.

Jay.

Leo had been acting weird all week.

First of all, he ghosted Jungkook for a solid three days before offering a half-hearted excuse of getting sick, which made no sense because Leo had always boasted about having a superior immune system. 

And throughout the week, Leo didn’t pick up any of Jungkook’s calls. He also hadn’t been on any game in days, which for him, was like a world record. 

To top it all off, this was a critical period of time for Jungkook: the week after his first date with you. 

Since then, you and him have been sharing an abundance of texts, sending TikToks, random memes, and funny pictures from day-to-day life (like when he accidentally spilled his protein shake everywhere and when you woke up from a nap to a phone-charger shaped indentation on your arm). 

Sometimes the conversations would last hours, diving deep into the most absurd topics like irrelevant celebrity gossip or eye-opening talks about childhood memories.

Other times, you’d take a few hours to respond, which then made Jungkook feel like he should also take his time so he didn’t seem too desperate. He’d count the minutes, making sure that he only responded in three-hour increments, before deciding at some point that it was stupid. 

Fuck it, he’d just respond right away like the down bad loser he was. So what. 

You were simply more perfect than anything he could ever imagine. You were witty, had the same sense of humor, and cared just as much about collecting ultra-rare Pokemon cards as he did. 

He’d even asked you for your Discord so he could play with you, but it seemed like that was one line you weren’t ready to cross yet—which was his most recent dilemma.

And now more than ever, he needed support from Leo: the only friend he could actually talk to about his stupid little crush.

Hell, Jungkook never even mentioned the whole going-to-the-wrong-restaurant debacle; he didn’t want Leo to feel bad. 

But this was ridiculous. 

Practically a week of radio silence. Really? 

He’d almost be angry, but he was mostly just concerned. What if he’d made Leo upset somehow without realizing? Or what if something serious was going on that he didn’t know about?

Maybe on the third or fourth day, Jungkook stopped trying to text first. If Leo needed space or silence, then so be it. 

He’d come around at some point, Jungkook thought. 

And he eventually did on a frosty Thursday night, with a slightly concerning, ominous message.

leo: we need to talk. 

He quickly replied, saying that he could call right away. He was already at his gaming set up, Discord somewhere on the monitor and headphones in, mindlessly watching Youtube as he snacked on potato chips. 

Three dancing dots appeared as Leo typed. Then they disappeared.

The world seemed to halt for a moment before Leo’s Discord avatar joined the voice channel. Jungkook followed immediately. 

“Yo,” Jungkook started as usual. “It’s been a hot minute.” He tried to sound casual. “Dude, where the hell have you been?”

A crinkle, then a static hum. And finally, a response. 

“Sorry about that.”

“That’s it?” Okay, Jungkook was starting to feel just a wee bit annoyed now. Ghosting him, almost fucking up his date, only to get a meagre ‘sorry about that’?

“Some… stuff came up.” His usually gravelly voice was smoother all the sudden. “I’ll tell you about it in a bit, but before that, how are you? I’m sorry I’ve been MIA.”

Jungkook sighed. Maybe he should hear him out first. 

“I’ve been good.” He leaned back in his chair, thinking about what Leo needed to catch up on. “That night, I ended up going on the date with her instead, and it’s really complicated but it all worked out in the end, so that’s good.”

“That’s really awesome, Jay. I’m so happy for you.”

Was it just him, or did Leo’s speech mannerisms seem different? More genuine, and less… manly? 

“Uh, thanks,” he snorted. “I’m seeing her tomorrow, actually. Econ lecture and all.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep,” Jungkook quipped, proud.  Before he could stop himself, he realized just how much he wanted to tell Leo about you. How much he had been keeping to himself. “The date actually went really well, by the way.” 

A few seconds of silence. “Tell me about it.”

That was all Jungkook needed to launch himself into a rapid monologue about you, detailing in probably too much detail about every conversation he shared with you and the lingering kiss you planted on his cheek before disappearing into your home.

Then, he started recounting his texting adventures with you: how you instantly clicked, how funny you were, and of course, how you refused to play games with him despite sharing a love for it.

“—so she wouldn’t give me her Discord but we still talk a lot,” he concluded, before immediately starting up again. “Dude, it’s insane—it’s like the ideal type I wrote in my journal in eighth grade got sent to heaven and God was like, here you go, dude.”

Usually, he’d never be so sappy, but hell, it was Leo. And Leo never judged.

“Maybe I’m crazy but… I think I might actually have a chance with her? I definitely don’t know for sure, because I mean, she still might not be over the guy she was talking about earlier,” he added thoughtfully. “But what do you think, Leo?”

Leo stayed quiet. 

“Leo? Are you still there?”

“Yup!” he confirmed, uncharacteristically flustered. “I’m still totally here.” An awkward laugh. “I’m glad you’re making progress—dude,” he said, tacking on the last bit like an afterthought.

Okay, something was weird. Leo was never this tense.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked. “You seem a bit off today.”

It was then that Jungkook realized how he was the only one talking. He hadn’t even asked Leo why he was absent for so long. Maybe something happened and he was being the worst friend ever for only talking about himself.

Then came a sigh so deep it could shake the core of the earth.

“Okay, Jay,” Leo began, his voice weirdly strained. “I have something to tell you. It’s quite serious.”

Jungkook straightened his back. Leo being this serious was like a kitten hissing at you for the first time.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied instantly. “What’s going on?”

From the other side, he heard Leo take a few deep breaths. “Um, so,” he started, “There are two things. Two big things.”

“O-kay…” he said slowly. “I’m all ears.”

A few seconds passed where nothing but the crunchy whirr of the call’s static filled the air. Jungkook adjusted his headphones, pressing a hand to one side as if it would make Leo less nervous about whatever it was he needed to confess.

Jungkook was almost about to say something to break the tension, but alas, Leo found his courage first.

“Ihaveacrushonyou.”

Jungkook must’ve heard wrong. 

“Uh, sorry,” he chuckled hesitantly.“What was that?”

A heavy exhale. “I like you, Jay. Like, not platonically.”

A million thoughts blared in his head.

First of all, Leo was gay? Or bi? How in the world could Jungkook call himself his friend and not know that? And—oh God—if Leo liked him romantically, that meant Jungkook had just subjected him to listening to him rant about you for five minutes! 

And that date…

His heart stopped for a moment. That must’ve been… horrible. So horrible. Maybe that was why Leo went radio silent for a week. 

He was the worst friend ever. Truly. 

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Leo. I–I’m not—”

“I know,” Leo cut him off. “I know,” he repeated, softer this time. “And it’s fine. I just felt like I can’t continue being friends with you in good conscience if I didn’t… come clean.”

Jungkook didn’t know what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo said quietly. 

Leo was never quiet. It made Jungkook’s heart break.

Finally, he found his voice. “Please don’t apologize,” he started. “I’m sorry I had no idea.”

Leo giggled softly. Did he always do that?

“Well, that’s kind of the point,” he chuckled, before the humor slipped away from his voice. “But… I don’t think I can keep this up anymore. This friendship, I mean. I feel like I’m deceiving you every time we play together.”

Jungkook felt like someone put a rock in his stomach. Leo continued regardless.

“But if it’s okay, can we play one more game together?”

A game. What a simple request, yet it still took a moment for Jungkook to choke out a response.

“Of course.” No one told him that losing a friend could hurt so much. “Whatever you want to play.”

Leo giggled again. Okay, seriously, what was up with that?

“It’s actually less like a game and more like a challenge,” he said, clearing his throat. “For you, specifically.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

 “What I mean, is that…” Leo began, dragging out his words. “I want you to find out who I am.”

Truly, the day was full of surprises. Jungkook blinked several times as Leo went on.

“We still haven’t properly met yet, but we know we go to the same university. And I think it’d be good for us to see each other at least once,” he explained. “Besides, aren’t you curious?”

“I… guess?” Jungkook wasn't quite sure what benefit this would serve to Leo, though. “Won’t it be easier for you to just tell me who you are? I mean, it does sound like an interesting challenge, but—just—are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he confirmed. “I want you to do this. If I tell you right away, then it won’t be any fun.”

Fun. So that was the objective. Jungkook still didn’t really understand.

“Wait, so, I’m just gonna have to try and find you by looking around for some guy named Leo? Like, searching online and stuff?”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Leo quickly said. “This is just a silly idea because I thought it’d be fun. If you don’t want to do it, then I’ll… just tell you who I am.”

Jungkook bit his lip. It was honestly not a difficult thing to do. He was sure it’d be easy to find him; all he had to do was search up his name on the university Instagram’s followers and identify which guys were named Leo, and then find which guy was his Leo.

After being the most horrible friend ever, was he really going to deny Leo of this last, simple request? He thought not.

“No, I’ll do it.” He shook his head even if Leo couldn’t see it, internally cementing his resolve. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find you.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Leo exhaled, relieved. 

Jungkook wasn’t sure why he was so intent on things happening this way, but he wouldn’t ask too many unnecessary questions. 

“Should I start now?” Jungkook already whipped out his phone, opening Instagram immediately. 

“Uh,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Before that… there’s also the second thing I wanted to tell you?”

“Oh right,” Jungkook quipped clumsily. “What was it?”

He felt a lot better now. Obviously, Leo told him the biggest secret first, so he expected this one to be much tamer. 

“Okay, so um… maybe you can consider this as a hint, as well. To help you find me.”

“Sure,” he laughed, agreeing to everything at this point. 

“You ready?” 

“Yeah,” he responded confidently. Really, nothing could be more world-changing than the first secret he learned. “Lay it on me.”

Despite Jungkook’s confidence, something shifted in the air. Maybe it was the sound of Leo taking a slow, long inhale, and exhaling with the kind of shakiness of someone who was seriously trying to calm down. 

What could possibly be more anxiety-inducing than what he just told you?

There was a soft click. 

From his headphones, the most obscure change in airflow tickled his ears, as if cotton were lodged in them for so long that he got used to it, and it just got taken out. 

“So, hint number one,” said a voice that was definitely not Leo's. It was way too pretty. Too feminine. “This is my real voice.”

There must’ve been a solid ten seconds where Jungkook’s brain short-circuited and he was unable to say anything.

Then it hit him like a truck. 

Leo’s being unnaturally educated on how menstrual cycles worked when they played that weird red blood cell simulator game. The way Leo was always extra nice to the girls on a server. The giggles.

Today, Leo wasn't being particularly weird, he—no, she—was just being normal, and not trying to mask her speaking mannerisms anymore; a cruel hint of what was to come.

“A–are you…”

“Yeah,” he she confirmed. “I’m actually a girl.”

You might have slightly underestimated how stupid Jungkook could be. 

It was unfortunately your own bright idea to ask him to find out who you were himself, and it wasn’t going too well. Curse you and your stupid brain (and even stupider heart).

After the date at the Italian restaurant, you realized that there was absolutely no possible way you could continue to speak to him normally as “Leo” when you knew who Jay was behind the screen. You already felt like shit just lying to him about being a guy, so add secretly knowing his real life identity and having a massive crush on him as well? 

Forget it. You’d rather eat dogshit. 

But alas, you did in fact like the man, so you wanted to talk to him one way or another. And you found that it was much easier to be yourself around him when you weren’t, well, pretending to be a man. 

You already knew an awful lot about his interests, making it easy to steer conversations in the right direction and say things that you knew he’d find funny. Given that you also knew he liked you; you had leverage with him as yourself—but not as Leo.

Some people would call you a coward. Some would call you a manipulative wench. You’d call yourself both; the only thing that stopped you from fully having a good time with Jungkook was guilt.

It was clawing at you from the depths of your guts to the goosebumps on your skin; every time you chatted for a while you’d suddenly be reminded of how you were recycling jokes that you’d told him weeks before as Leo. Or whenever your phone dinged with a message from Jay, you realized that you had to eventually tell him the truth at some point.

But how could you? It could ruin your entire relationship with him! 

Still, time was ticking—it had been several days since your “date,” and Jungkook was becoming more curious about where his good friend “Leo” had disappeared. 

Then you had an idea. A brilliant yet stupid one. 

If you couldn’t tell him yourself, how about you just help him figure it out?

The plan was simple: tell him that Leo was actually a girl who had a crush on him, and then let him find out who “she” was.

Obviously, if he wasn’t willing to partake in your little “game,” you prepared yourself to tell him who you were right away. 

But he agreed—for whatever reason—and you couldn’t be more grateful.

That brought you back to the dilemma once more: Jungkook was much stupider than you thought.

You made it your personal mission to be as obvious as you could, hinting to him that you were Leo whenever possible.

It started last Friday morning, the day after the call. 

Jungkook trudged into the economics lecture hall with an unusual amount of lethargy, as if he hadn’t slept well.

He sat behind you as he normally would, but didn’t even spare you a glance—which was definitely not normal. You had been texting each other all week. Why be shy now?

“Hey,” you greeted softly, turning around in your seat. His head jerked to you, startled. You chuckled. “Rough night?” 

He shook his head dismissively. “Something like that.”

You smiled at him. “By the way,” you started, reaching into your bag. “Here’s your jacket. I totally forgot to give it back.”

“Oh, thanks.” He grabbed the leather jacket from you, a blank expression on his face. 

You gently placed your hand on his forearm. “Is everything okay?”

He flinched at your touch.

“Uh, yeah,” he chuckled apologetically, still a little jittery. “I’m good. Thank you.”

Finally, he looked at you, eyes searching your face. Your heart raced. Did he recognize your voice? What if he already connected the dots? 

“Uh, the lecture is starting soon,” he said finally, averting his gaze. 

“Oh,” you let out lamely, realizing that you hadn’t responded to him yet, too focused on the prospect of him figuring it out. 

“In case you wanna… listen to that. You know, the way you always do.”

You furrowed your brows ever so slightly, masking a pout with a strained smile. “Right. Thanks.”

So he still couldn’t get it, even after hearing your voice in person. It looked like you had to be more obvious.

After the lecture, you decided to do something bold. 

You asked him out on another date.

Ice skating. The following day. It’d be on you, you insisted, referring to his generosity last week with the fancy Italian dinner. 

Heart in your throat, you waited for his reply. His big round eyes widened, lips parting, before letting out a soft, grateful laugh.

He said yes, of course, seemingly recovered from the weird bout he was in that morning. 

And there it was: your first proper date with Jeon Jungkook. You wondered if he was freaking out as much as you were.

On the day of the date, Jin and Wendy dropped you off, giving you a pep talk on the way there. Well, to be precise, Wendy gave you a pep talk; Jin just made fun of you. Still, you managed to arrive on time, butterflies in your stomach as you texted Jungkook that you were there. He soon emerged from his car, jogging over to you with a wide, comforting grin on his face.

And suddenly, nothing was all that scary anymore.

The date went well, to say the least.

He was annoyingly good at skating, which both surprised you and didn’t, but he was a gentleman, never leaving your side and making sure that you didn’t fall. Laughs easily tumbled out of you as you raced him around the rink. Soon, physical contact became much more natural, too.

His hand lingered on your waist a little longer each time helped you keep steady. Whenever you started to fall, you’d reach for his hand without realizing, and at some point, you just held it all the time. When you were both winded from all the skating, you found some greasy diner nearby and made it a competition to see who could get there first.

He won by a landslide, effortlessly outrunning you by several paces—even having the audacity to run backwards to taunt you at some point—but the competition was never hostile. It was just a game, which obviously, you and Jungkook both loved.

In fact, it became kind of like your personal signature to make a game out of everything from that point on. 

Eating fries? Who could stuff the most in their mouth and still say “chubby bunny?”

Watching cars go by? Who could find more cars in their color of choice?

And so on.

Friendly yet competitive. Teasing yet kind. Awkward yet comforting. 

That was how you’d describe your budding relationship with Jungkook as three dates went by: ice skating, arcade, and bowling.

For each date, you made sure to give him some kind of  nudge towards the fact that you were actually Leo. 

On the ice skating date, you clipped an action figure keychain of your favorite Naruto character, Itachi, to your bag. When he pointed it out, you went on a five-minute tangent about why you loved the character so much, making sure to use the exact same points that Leo had used before.

Unfortunately, Jungkook was simply too enamored by the fact that you liked the anime so much to even realize that you were parroting his online best friend.

A few days later, when Jungkook took it upon himself to invite you to an arcade, you saw another opportunity in between killing virtual zombies and playfully yelling at each other over air hockey. 

It was when you and Jungkook had decided to play a street fighting game, one that you’d played with him as Leo weeks before. At that time, you had beat him twice after discovering an overpowered fighting combination—one that only you could pull off. You called it “Leo’s Takedown.”

So when you performed that exact same move flawlessly, you expected something to click in Jungkook’s mind. 

He—again—did not get it, because he was too upset that you’d beaten him at three games in a row. 

You realized you needed something more apparent. 

That was how you came up with bowling; as Leo, you once mentioned how it was one of your favorite things to do with friends. 

That day,  you decided to pull out all of your cards.

Leo’s favorite color was blue. You wore an all blue outfit and only chose blue bowling balls.

Leo was lactose intolerant. You outwardly cringed at Jungkook’s milkshake, saying that you’d be hospitalized if you took a sip.

Leo loved Bruno Mars. You made sure to squeal excitedly when 24K Magic played on the speakers.

But nothing worked. 

You were almost upset; were the moments you shared with him as Leo that forgettable? Did he even care about finding you?

But then you snapped back to the present moment, where he laughed at everything you said even if it wasn’t that funny. Where he opened every door and carried your bag. Where he’d never let you win in your impromptu competitions, but also never made you feel like you really lost, either.

You liked him too much to keep your secret identity a secret any longer. So, if he couldn’t figure it out, you’d finally tell him, you decided. 

You just needed an opportunity, which came after your bowling date.

You had just returned your shoes, walking out to the parking lot. While discussing possible restaurants to go to for dinner, he brought up the idea of cooking at his place, instead.

“—but you totally don’t have to if you don’t want to!” he spluttered, face red. “I just thought it might be good for us to save money, since we’ve been eating out a lot, but obviously it’s kind of—”

“Let’s go,” you cut him off decisively, trying to hide your amusement. 

He paused. “Really?”

You giggled. “Yeah, why not?” You grinned playfully. “You won’t murder me, right?”

He snickered, all remnants of tension washing away in a single breath. “I feel like I should be more worried about that than you.”

“Hey!” You lightly hip bumped him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you were absolutely terrifying when you played whack-a-mole last week!” he teased, jogging backwards towards his car and sticking his tongue out.

You started running to catch up. “I was just focused!” you retorted, a smile on your face.

He sped up even more, ignoring you. 

“Help! A murderer is chasing me!” he yelled into the dark parking lot, laughing as he widened the distance between you.

“Oh, you’re so done for, Jeon Jungkook!”

Fits of laughter decorated time as you ran after him. When you finally caught up, the two of you went in circles around his car, not really sure who was chasing or being chased.

Even when that bit was over, the ride to his apartment was filled with nothing but light-hearted chatter and bubbles of joy.

When he let you into his apartment, you took a good long moment to admire the interior as he gave you a tour.

His place was so him.

Everything was dark; it was like he opened a home design catalogue and just circled everything that was black. While the furniture itself was sleek and minimalistic, there was clutter pretty much everywhere—action figures, movie posters, and CDs littered the space. Yet, it was still tidy. The whole place smelled good, too. Clean and woodsy, like his personal scent. 

His bedroom was where he showed you his gaming set up, tucked away in a dark corner. 

Shelves stuffed with manga and other nerdy ornaments surrounded his PC, and his screen’s glow was dim, making his desk look like a little man cave. He seemed proud of it.

“And that’s about it for the tour,” he concluded, gesturing around his room one last time. “It’s pretty spacious for a one bedroom unit, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it’s really cool,” you said, still looking around in awe. 

Your eyes caught on to a tiny picture frame on one of his shelves, squinting at it closely. It was of a young boy in a Taekwondo uniform with a bowl cut and uneven bangs, holding up a certificate of some sort. 

No way. Was that Jungkook? 

What the hell. He was so cute.

When he realized what you were looking at, he sprung forward and snatched the picture away. 

“Sorry! This is uh—” he chuckled, “—a really bad picture of me.” He hid it behind his back. “I was a total nerd back in the day.”

A sinister grin danced on your face. “I wanna see it again. Show me,” you commanded.

He snorted. “No way.”

“Show me, please!” You lunged forward with a cackle, trying to snake your hand around his waist and grab the picture. “C’mon! I won’t judge.”

He darted around, expertly avoiding your grabby hands. “Not gonna happen,” he laughed.

This started a fumbling dance of limbs, your arms flailing everywhere in an effort to snatch the frame. Jungkook, ever the athletic guy, had no issue contorting his body to throw you off guard. At one point, you had backed him up until his legs hit the bed.

With absolutely zero situational awareness, you jumped up to try and take hold of the frame, which Jungkook was holding hostage with his height. Unfortunately, you lost balance on your landing, toppling forward and pushing Jungkook onto his bed.

All of the sudden, you were on top of him. Chest to chest. Weight pressing down on his warm torso. The picture frame tumbled onto the floor, long forgotten.

You could feel his stomach tense up as his breath hitched. Your faces were so close you could clearly see the mole under his lip. Maybe he could see your freckles. 

Your glasses started slipping down.

Gently, he brought up a hand to remove them, which tickled your skin. Your heart practically stopped. Aside from the peck you gave him on his cheek that day, you hadn’t ever kissed him before.

In a daring move, you inched closer to him, bringing your face down. He cupped your jaw, breath softly fanning against your nose as he closed the distance.

But then, just as your lips were about to meet, he pushed you off, jolting upwards.

His eyes fluttered everywhere as you stumbled backwards.

“Fuck—sorry I just—” he stammered. “Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” you said, although you weren’t feeling so great yourself. 

What happened? Why did he push you away like that? Your mind raced as he started pacing around the room. 

“Is everything okay?” you asked as calmly as possible.

“Yes!” he blurted out. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” 

He kept pacing back and forth until you grabbed his wrist, searching his eyes intently.

“Really, Jungkook, you can tell me if something is wrong.”

He couldn’t return your gaze, eyes trained on the computer set up behind you instead. 

“Fuck—sorry, I’m not… I swear I’m…” He struggled to find his words. He sighed. You watched him intently. “I have something to confess,” he finally said.

“Okay,” you replied softly. “What’s going on?”

He sat on the bed, patting the space next to him. You sat next to him as he took a deep breath.

“I like you, okay?” he started, fidgeting with his hands. “You probably know that already, and that hasn’t changed. And it won’t, I’m pretty sure.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Okay.” 

He continued.

“But to be completely honest…” He shut his eyes, as if the words physically hurt him to say. “There's this girl, and honestly, I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Your feet went numb. Hands suddenly cold. 

“Oh,” you managed lamely. 

He still couldn’t look at you. 

“For the longest time, I only saw her as a friend, but she recently told me something and now I can’t get her out of my head.”

Wait a minute. Could it be…?

“We always played games together, actually. But we haven’t done that since the last time we talked, and I just can’t help but feel like I’ve lost my gaming buddy—and honestly, a really good friend, too.”

Oh God. This was insane.

“I miss her,” he admitted quietly. “I wanted to kiss you—I really did. But it felt wrong to do that when I’m still feeling this way.”

Your heart was breaking. You didn’t even consider that this could be a source of concern for him. He too, looked torn, face contorted into a permanent wince. God, you were the worst.

In the silence that followed, you used it as an opportunity to cement your resolve to tell him the truth. 

Inhale. Exhale.

“It’s me, Jungkook,” you finally said, so softly it could be a whisper.

“What?” His head jerked to you. 

“I’m…” You exhaled shakily. “I’m Leo.”

His eyes widened, back stiffening. The world was still as he took a moment to process your words.

“Are you joking?”

“I’m not.” You bit your lip. 

His entire body froze for a moment, expression unreadable, until they seemed to melt in relief. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered, hiding his face in his hands. A heavy breath escaped him. “Wow.”

“Are you mad?” you asked after a few seconds. 

“No, I’m not,” he answered quickly. “I’m just… shocked.” He shook his head slowly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? How long have you known about this?”

“I was scared.” It sounded stupid now that you were saying it out loud. “And I’ve known since um, the Italian dinner date. When you told me that your friend’s name was Leo.”

His face was still rigid—unbelieving, unsatisfied. Your stomach churned.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, but you didn’t believe him.

“It’s not fine.” Shit. You were going to cry. “You seem upset.”

“Really, I’m not. Please don’t worry about it—”

“Are you—” you choked up, “—are you disappointed? That it’s me?”

“Disappointed?” he echoed urgently, turning to face you. “Are you kidding me? This is… probably the best way that this could have turned out.” 

Tears pooled in your eyes. “Really?”

At this, he started panicking. “Wait, shit, please don’t cry.” He scooted closer to you. “It’s okay, really, I’m not mad.”

“But you seem mad,” you said, hiccuping on a small sob. “And you should be.” 

“I swear, I’m not—”

“I’m sorry for not telling you right away,” you managed to say through trembling lips. “I thought that if you could figure it out on your own it’d be easier than me just telling you. But I should’ve been honest with you from the start.”

He sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Look, I’m not mad at you. I promise.”

The way you pouted at him indicated that you didn’t quite believe it. He chuckled. 

“I won’t lie, it was honestly really hard for me these past few weeks.” He wiped away a stray tear from your cheek. “I was also really confused. I knew that I liked you a lot, but I was busy thinking about another girl. Turns out it was just you, all along. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.”

You nodded. He was too nice to you, making you swoon when you didn’t deserve it.

“I think it’s just taking me time to process everything,” he explained gently. “For a while, I thought I was a horrible friend and a horrible person.”

“I’m the horrible one,” you croaked.

He laughed. “No, you aren’t.”

You sniffled gratefully. Maybe he found that cute because he started grinning at you. 

“You know what? Maybe I am a little upset,” he started, a playful lilt in his voice. “You knew I liked you this whole time, while I was trying to woo you from this mysterious ‘other guy’ who was too oblivious to like you back.”

You snickered, eyes starting to dry. “I lost track of the amount of times you called yourself an ‘oblivious idiot’”

“Man,” he huffed, looking at the ceiling. “That date at the Italian place—what really happened there? Did you… actually ask me to go on a date with your friend? Or was that you asking me to fill in for you as ‘Leo?’”

Feeling better now, you started explaining the whole date debacle, putting as much blame on Jin as possible. 

He laughed hearing you recount the story from your perspective, diving into his side when you were done.

At some point, the explanation got so complicated that you asked for a piece of paper to draw out all of the stupid conversations you had with each other: the time you almost told him that Leo was actually a girl, but chickened out when he opened up about his economics lecture crush. At the club, where he set you up on a date with an imaginary friend. The time you played Raft together, and you gave him the brilliant idea of setting “his crush” up on a date with a douchebag so Jungkook could swoop in later. 

And so on.

You took this as an opportunity to reveal all of your secrets.

You admitted how you purposefully queued up his favorite song in the car to impress him. You detailed every single time you tried to hint to him that you were Leo, and how he missed every single sign.

“To be fair, I was trying to separate you from Leo as much as possible because I felt so guilty,” he said, pouting. 

“I know, I know,” you repeated, giggling wildly. You fully recovered now that he didn’t seem upset anymore.  “Still doesn’t make you any less of an idiot, though.”

“Touche.”

At this point, Jungkook also decided to come clean about as much as he could.

For instance, he told you that one time he decided to sit in front of you in economics just to show off an outfit he was particularly proud of, only for that to be the week that you were sick and couldn’t come to class.

In exchange, you confessed to him how you pretended to know an anime that he mentioned over call once, and watched the entire thing in one weekend to be able to talk about it with him.

Then, he admitted to finding out where your favorite cafe was from your Instagram stories, and frequenting them weekly with the hopes of running into you.

All in all, you both realized that you were equally down bad for each other.

After a particularly long laugh, things quieted down, and you suddenly became aware of how close you were to him. The two of you were sitting on his bed, side by side. Shoulders touching. Face inches apart when you turned to him.

“I like you,” you said boldly, although it wasn’t too big of a confession after everything that came before.

“Me too.” He lightly chuckled as he looked at you. “Me too,” he repeated, this time a lot softer—more sincere.

Smoothly, he scooted closer to you, the bed crinkling under his weight. It was nighttime now—making the usually dark room even more shrouded in shadows, which made it feel like you and Jungkook were the only two people in the world.

He brushed a loose strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear as he cupped your jaw.

His hand was warm and ticklish against your skin, and you found yourself drawn toward him subconsciously, like he had his own kind of gravity.

You closed your eyes as he closed the distance—heart pounding, lungs collapsing. 

Then, a soft, fleeting kiss was planted on your lips. 

It couldn’t have lasted longer than three seconds, but it felt like the most special moment of your life. When he pulled away, he stayed close, forehead touching yours.

“I’m glad that it’s you,” he whispered.

“Me too,” you replied, in the same tone that he did earlier. “And I’m glad that there are no more secrets between us.”

Cheekily, he pecked your lips again. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “No more secrets.”

Okay, maybe Jungkook had one more secret. 

He was a virgin. 

His first and only kiss prior to you was with some girl named Samantha when he was thirteen during a game of truth or dare, and he wasn’t even playing! It was Samantha’s dare to “kiss the ugliest boy in the class,” so his experience in the intimacy department was not nearly as riveting as you probably thought it was.

Thank goodness, you didn’t seem to notice. Not yet, at least. It helped that you were also new to this whole “couple” life, so he didn’t have to worry much about comparing himself to your past romantic adventures.

Just simple dates with you were the highlight of his days. 

He went everywhere with you, exploring interesting restaurants, watching movies at the cinema, and somehow, you even managed to make him enjoy a candle painting workshop.

But going out all the time did get a little pricey.

So, to save money, today was a stay-at-home date dedicated to instant noodles, crappy isekai animes, and card games. You were sitting crossed-legged on his bed, cards of Uno laid in messy piles throughout his covers. 

You wore baggy grey sweatpants with an absurdly oversized pink hoodie that practically drowned you whole. Your hair was tied into two pigtails, bangs pinned back with Hello Kitty clips, your glasses slipping down your nose as you pondered over what to ask.

To anyone else, this get-up might’ve looked a little bit ridiculous. But to Jungkook, you were the cutest thing in the world. 

“Hah!” you bellowed, puffing out your chest with pride as you slammed down your final card. “Take that, noob.”

“That’s like, the fourth time you’ve won in a row,” he whined.

“Told you, I’m the best at this game.” You collected the cards, swooping your arms across the bed as Jungkook continued to sulk.

“Do I have to do another dare?”

In this game of Truth or Dare Uno, so far you had dared him to take a shot of hot sauce, troll someone on Roblox, and perform an embarrassing TikTok dance for you. 

“Hm… this time, I choose truth.” You finished gathering all the cards, absentmindedly tossing them back and forth in your hands. 

Thinking hard, you scrunched your nose to push your glasses up. He loved when you did that.

“Okay, I have a question.” 

“Go for it.”

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip.

“Can you tell me about… those girls? The five you’ve dated before me?”

Oh. 

Oh lor\. 

Your eyes were so big and full of worry he wanted to die. How he wished he’d never gone out with anyone before you. 

“What do you want to know?” He scooted closer. “I’ll tell you anything. They really aren’t anything to worry about.”

Still, that didn’t erase the concern etched onto your face. 

“Maybe… just how each date went?” You couldn’t look at him straight. “If that’s okay to ask.”

“Of course.” 

He brushed a loose strand of hair out of your face and placed a brief kiss on your cheek. Just because he could.

And he told you everything.

To start: Mina, who asked him out at some house party in front of everyone and he couldn’t say no because well, it was in front of everyone. They went to a cinema to watch some 1950’s Evelyn Hugo throwback rerun but Jungkook accidentally fell asleep and coincidentally only woke up during the sex scene. Mina noticed—regrettably—causing her to call him an inconsiderate, sex-hungry brat.

Then, there was charming but spoiled Sana, who brought him to a luxury fine dining event after forcing their mutual friend to set them up. She was unfortunately incapable of talking about anything other than the latest designer bag or which Van Cleef bracelet went the best with her new hair color, and she didn’t seem like the type to care about his interests at all. So, he let that adventure die early, much to Sana’s dismay.

The third and fourth girls were Nayeon and Jihyo, respectively. He couldn’t follow through with either of them since they were secretly trying to recruit him for a foursome with some guy named Mingyu. He did not want to parktake.

And lastly, there was Tzuyu. A sweet and alluring beauty. She was wonderful, she really was, but when mentioned hating how her younger brother played games all day instead of studying, he clammed up and decided to let that romantic endeavor lay to rest as well. 

“Maybe she was just worried for her brother’s health,” you commented. “Doesn’t mean that she hates the idea of gaming, like, in general.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But that doesn’t really matter now.”

“What if you two could’ve worked out if you just gave her another chance?”

He stilled. “Why would you say that?” You kept avoiding his gaze. “I like you. I wouldn’t have wanted to end up with her anyways.”

You stayed silent.

“You saying that breaks my heart a little, you know?” His face moved downward, trying to meet your eyes. The bed shifted underneath him.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he replied immediately. He adjusted his position and pulled you in, letting your back meet his chest as he hugged you from behind. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel insecure. I promise those dates mean nothing to me. And whatever rumors you heard—trust me, they’re all exaggerated.”

“I know.” You played with his hands, tracing his inked knuckles with the tips of your fingers. “Sometimes I just feel like you’re way more experienced than me when it comes to all this dating stuff.”

He hoped you didn’t notice how he froze up at that.

“Whenever we do things, I feel like you’re holding back since it’s my first time,” you continued.

Oh God. That was just because he was a wimp. Did you notice that?

“I… I want to do more things with you,” you quietly admitted. “But I don’t know how. And I don’t want you to hold back because of me.”

In the few seconds of silence that came after your brave confession, Jungkook decided there was no more hiding. He had to come clean to you, no matter how embarrassing it’d be. Besides, you guys had already agreed: no more secrets.

He steeled his nerves and took one deep breath.

“Actually… I’m a virgin.”

“What?” You sat up, whipping around to face him with wide eyes. “You are?”

He nodded solemnly.

“Really?”

He nodded again. “It’s not me holding back,” he chuckled, voice soft. “I’m just nervous, too.”

There it was. Up in the air. Would you be disappointed? Turned off? Upset at him for not telling you earlier?

His worries subsided as your face stretched into a teasing grin. Then, you launched yourself at him, glomping him in a hug as the two of you fell back onto the bed.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, smacking kisses all over his face. “You’re so cute.” On his forehead. “You’re adorable.” On his nose. “I’m gonna eat you up.”

“I’m literally a grown man.” Still, he let you attack him without retaliation. “Get off.”

“No can do. I’m eating you, remember?” You playfully bit his cheek.

“Gross, stop that!” Despite his protests, Jungkook was laughing too. He sat up, pushing you off of him. “I’m so gonna get you back for that.”

“Oh yeah?” You backed away and rolled up your sleeves, cackling like a madwoman. “Bring it on, gameboy.”

He struck first, hands going straight to your belly—where he knew you were the most ticklish—which you squealed to, but you managed to fight back with a clever strike to his armpits when his left side was open. It was a catfight of tickles and pinches, and through it all, bubbles of joy filled the air, your laughs mingling with his. 

You ducked. He followed. You pushed him into the bed again. He rolled, switching your positions and pinning you down.

Hot breaths. Flushed faces. You under him and him above you. The competitive tension died down, replaced by something much more heated—almost electric.

Your glasses were crooked, pigtails loose, and his black hoodie was starting to feel warmer than usual. Up close, he noticed a few freckles dancing around your cheeks, which made him want to memorize where they were and rearrange them, only to put them in the same place again. The only puzzle he’d ever want to solve.

Pretty giggles spilled out of you. It was so adorable he just wanted to kiss you stupid. 

Slowly, he removed the glasses from your face. You smiled, knowing what this meant.

And sure enough, his lips were on yours in a matter of seconds.

That was one thing about being a couple, Jungkook learned. Things like this were much easier now. He never thought that something as simple as a kiss on the lips could be so perfectly cliche and uniquely special at once. 

Your arms hooked around his neck, his body coming down to press against yours. 

He parted his mouth slightly, slotting it in between your lips. You reciprocated, letting out a shuddering breath. You and Jungkook had made out before, but this time it felt different, like an unspoken invitation to something more. There was no need to rush, but there was an urgency that could only be attributed to how much he craved this—craved you.

In a daring move, his hand slipped under your hoodie, landing on the bare skin of your lower waist. You responded by deepening the kiss. You cupped his face, dragging him into you even more.

Clumsy, but passionate—that was the best way to describe how things escalated, with you tugging hesitantly at the hem of Jungkook’s black hoodie, urging it off of him.

He took it off immediately, not giving you any time to drink in his chiseled torso, and instead diving straight back towards his sanctuary: your lips.

A muffled moan from under him jolted him back to reality.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah.” 

You scooted backwards and sat up. With a steeled look of courage, you pulled your hoodie off, revealing nothing but a flimsy white camisole underneath.

Jungkook stayed still. With the recent weather and your aversion to the cold, he’d never seen you so… bare. 

Seeing that he’d frozen up, you made the next move.

You pulled him toward you and kissed him again—and again, and again—until your lips were swollen and the kissing evolved into something more desperate and less innocent. At some point, his knee slid between your thighs, which you happily ground against. 

He relished in the feeling of you needing him. 

And before he could help it, his dick was pressing against your stomach, hardening against his will. He hoped you hadn’t noticed, but alas, no matter how he shifted, it was too prominent to miss. In an unexpectedly ballsy move, you brought your hand down to palm him.

“Shit,” he grunted, letting his head rest on the curve of your neck. 

You giggled, turning your head to peck his cheek. “Need a little help down here?”

He pressed a few kisses to your neck in return. “What about you?”

“I think… I could use some help.”

A green light. He cheered internally. He lifted himself up and watched your reaction carefully as he played with the hem of your sweatpants. You nodded with permission.

He liked this a lot. Things were finally progressing, and he felt confident enough to move forward now that you knew he was just as inexperienced as you.

That didn’t mean he hadn’t done his research, though. 

For the past week or so, he had been watching porn with a critical, academic eye, taking mental notes on what women liked and looked for during sex. He made sure to even study other sources, too. On Reddit he heard that fanfiction was a popular way for women to explore their sexuality, so he even journeyed as far as Tumblr, Wattpad, and Archive of Our Own on his great big quest to be prepared when it finally came time to pleasure you.

Still, nothing could quite prepare him for this.

He started pulling your pants down, only for you to push his hand away and do it yourself, bringing your underwear with it. In fact, you even took the liberty to take off your camisole as well. You kicked off all of your clothes to the floor. That was how, in only a few seconds, you had managed to short circuit his entire brain.  

You were fully naked. 

Before his head could come up with an eloquent, perhaps even sexy response, his dick did so for him by twitching and turning rock hard against his boxers, no doubt creating a bulge that now you would definitely notice. 

Really, who could blame him? He was a healthy man and you were a beautiful woman. 

Your face was a ruddy red, nervous breaths tumbling out as you waited for his next move. 

“Um,” you coughed awkwardly. “Are you going to do anything?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he chuckled, crawling toward you. “You’re just… really pretty.”

“Even with this stupid hair?” 

He looked at you one more time, noticing how strands of hair shot messily in every direction, your Hello Kitty clips now lost somewhere in the bedsheets, having fallen off when neither of you had noticed.

“Yeah. Even with this stupid hair.”

“You were supposed to say it wasn’t stupid.” You pouted.

He laughed. “Sorry.” But he didn’t really feel sorry, nor did he need to.

A moment of silence ensued. He was too nervous to touch you, scared that he would explode on the spot, but then came your quiet plea.

“Kiss me, please.”

And then, he lost it. 

This time, he wasn’t gentle, kissing you like his life (read: his cock) depended on it. You seemed to welcome the change in pace, hips bucking forward for friction, moaning softly when his thigh offered it as your back hit the bed again. 

Your bare skin connected with his, and he shuddered as he felt the soft flesh of your chest smushed up against his. When you guided his hand to your boob, he gave it a tentative squeeze, and you responded with a chuckle against his mouth. 

Oh god, he was holding a boob. Your boob. While sliding his tongue in your mouth, he caressed your nipple with the tips of his fingers, and then gave it a light pinch.

The sound you made in response was heavenly, high-pitched and needy as you arched your back into him. He was obsessed, his hard length grinding against your stomach as he repeated the action, marveling every time you made a noise.

After a moment lost in the heated rhythm of each other, he brought a cautious hand to your folds. 

It was slick with a thin sheen of your wetness. His brain was going a million miles at once. Were his hands clean? Should he rub? Use lube? Did he need finger condoms? Fuck, he didn’t have those. 

Things were starting to feel real, and he wasn’t quite sure how to keep it together.

“I–I don’t really know how to, um–”

“It’s okay,” you exhaled, bringing a hand down to guide his own in circular motions on your clit. “Like this.”

He mimicked you the best he could, watching as your lips parted with pretty little sighs.

He planted open-mouthed kisses along your neck, ignoring the cramp in his shoulder and forearm as his cock twitched in his pants. 

Soon, your breaths turned increasingly hot and desperate.

“You can—you can put a finger in now.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, trying to not sound as overwhelmed as he was. 

A kiss to the cheek. Then the lips. And a finger went in.

He felt your walls, warm and wet, clamp around him as he pumped slowly. He tried to recall the things he had watched and read—how to move his fingers, where to apply pressure—but his mind came up blank. 

Still, your reactions were enough to guide him into doing what worked for you.

“You can do another finger,” you whispered.

This time, you winced as another one slipped in. Worried, he trailed kisses down your neck.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, whimpering slightly. A few seconds went by. You asked for another finger; he obliged. Your brows furrowed upward, eyes screwed shut, and you bit your lip as he watched your every micromovement. 

Your laboured breaths eventually turned into quiet moans, decorating time with a sweet melody, like music to Jungkook’s ears.

“Okay,” you panted. “I think I’m ready now.” 

Those words made Jungkook feel like a little kid opening presents on Christmas morning.

“Alright.”

He sat up and reached over to his bedside table to grab a condom—he had bought a box of them alongside a bottle of medical-grade lubricant a week ago.

You let out a soft laugh.

“For a virgin, I didn’t think you’d be so prepared.” 

He took the jab with pride. “Sue me for anticipating something happening with my gorgeous girlfriend.”

“You know I’m on birth control, right?”

He paused, pondering, then shrugged. “Do you still want me to use a condom?”

“Well,” you sighed. “I guess we can never be too safe. At least for this first time.”

“Okay.” He tore a packet from the sheet and ripped it open with his teeth. “Anything you want, always.”

He took pride in the way you visibly blushed at that, only for his confidence to melt away when he realized that, wow, this was really happening. He was about to have sex for the first time in his life. 

You looked nervous too, gulping when he finally pulled down his pants and his cock sprung to life, dripping with a generous amount of precum. 

He put on the condom with shaking hands, watching as you laid down to wait. He leaned forward, planting a kiss on your temple.

“Are you, uh, ready to rumble?”

Seriously? Ready to rumble? Nice one, Jungkook.

Luckily, that made you giggle a bit, and he was happy to ease your nerves a little even if it came at the cost of his self-esteem. 

“I’m ready,” you confirmed, a nervous but hopeful glint in your eyes.

He aligned the head of his cock to your entrance, nudging it lightly, and pushed forward slowly. His eyes screwed shut when your walls clamped around him, pulsing relentlessly. He was maybe halfway in when he finally opened his eyes again, and sirens started blaring in his head.

Your face was contorted into a strained wince, tears prickling your eyes as you bit into your lip so hard it could draw blood. 

“Hey, you okay?”

You furiously shook your head, and his heart sank. He pulled out immediately.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He cupped your jaw with his free hand. “It’s okay, we don’t have to do this right now.”

Tears finally escaped. It looked like you were struggling to breathe. He thought that getting shot by a gun would be less painful than seeing you cry.  

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” you sobbed.

Oh how Jungkook’s heart shattered into a million pieces. He imagined your pain, and the quiet desire to conquer it being overwhelmed by just how much it hurt. 

He scattered kisses all over your face and neck, wiping away any tears, dead-set on not letting them stain your precious, precious face.

“It’s okay, it’s really okay,” he whispered against your skin. “We can do this another time.”

You hiccuped a sob, rubbing your eyes impatiently. 

“But I want it now.”

He gave a warm, teasing smile. “So impatient.” A kiss to your nose. “Do you really like me that much?” 

You chuckled, slapping his chest lightly.

“Shut up,” you choked out, half-sobbing half-laughing. 

“What was it you liked about me again?” He flexed his biceps, showing off his sleeved arm. “Was it my super cool tattoos?” Then, he fluffed up his hair dramatically, flipping it towards your face. “Or my sexy, messy hair?”

You giggled. You were giggling those pretty little giggles again. Thank goodness. 

“A total hotshot, am I right?”

 A smile graced your face as you pulled him in for a deep kiss. 

“That helped,” you admitted. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he whispered, voice coming out lower than he anticipated. 

He let himself lie down on his side, propped up against his elbow, his face by yours. Your breathing went back to normal, color returning to your face.

“Wanna try again?” he asked, not expecting any particular answer. 

You nodded, a determined smile on your face. He grinned. You were so cute.

Jungkook looked around, reaching out to grab the bottle of lube sitting on his bedside table. 

“Let’s use this,” he declared, resolute. 

He squeezed out a generous glob to his hand, bringing it down to your entrance. You flinched a bit at the cold substance, but slowly relaxed as the slippery sensation was lathered everywhere. He positioned himself accordingly, watching your face carefully in case you decided to change your mind at any point.

For his second attempt, didn’t allow himself to close his eyes, and he pushed forward much slower. That seemed to help you relax. 

This time, while your face contorted into a pained expression again, you didn’t let him pull out, urging him to continue with a nod of your head and a fierce determination burning in your eyes. 

Finally, when he was all the way in, he let out a sigh of relief. You too, took a moment to get used to the fullness with a shuddering breath.

“You good?” he asked, short-winded.

“Feeling… full.” You gasped. “With you.”

God, you really were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He started to move. 

It was, admittedly, much more difficult than he thought it’d be. His shoulder was cramping, he was sweaty, and you were so incredibly tight he had a hard time not finishing right away. But he wouldn’t trade this, struggle and all, for the world.

“Feels good,” you panted. “Keep going.”

That was all the permission he needed. 

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, pace quickening. “Okay.”

As his thrusts became more desperate, your panting became more laboured, and the tiniest of whimpers would escape you every few moments. Your walls squelched around him, wetness mixing with the lubricant, making the most obscene sounds as he slammed into you progressively harder.

“Oh my god.” You hissed sharply. “Please—please don’t stop.”

He couldn’t even formulate a coherent reply, making a vague grunt of agreement instead.

Eventually, your tiny whimpers flourished into full-fledged moans, and Jungkook too, found himself letting out primal grunts as he lost control over rational thinking. He could only hope that you felt as good as he was feeling.

He was really having sex. 

“I’m close,” you whined, desperate. “I’m so close.”

“Shit,” he heaved, not feeling in command of his body anymore. “Me too.” 

Your knees were bent so far you were practically folded in half. The head of his cock felt every single groove of your pulsing walls. With every movement, your perky tits would follow, nipples erect. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth was parted, lewd sounds spilling out against your will.

The sight alone could make any man cum, he thought.

“Oh fuck,” you cried, biting your lips as your moans crescendoed. “Ju—Jungkook, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

And then it happened. 

You reached your high shortly before he did, your release coming with loud cries and wails as your walls spasmed harshly, pushing Jungkook toward his climax too. He felt the condom filling up with his warm semen, a jolted growl escaping him before he could help it.

For how awkward some other things went today, it was no short of a miracle that you and Jungkook managed to finish at the same time. When his high died down, his pace slowed, stopping with a few final thrusts. You twitched beneath him, the sticky substances where his skin met yours making a few sticky squelches.

He rested his forehead on yours, taking a moment to catch his breath. You too, were winded—and beautiful.

A loopy grin danced on your face. His own probably mirrored yours.

Now that he wasn’t actively fucking you, the cramp in his shoulder really hurt like a bitch. But that didn’t really matter when he just had sex for the first time and it was everything he had ever dreamed of. 

Not because everything went perfectly, but simply because it was with you.

He pulled out with a slight flinch, a little grossed out as he rolled off the condom off his softening dick and tied it up. With a well-aimed toss, the condom landed in the trashcan across the room.

“Nice shot.”

“Thanks.” Lying down, he gave you a peck on the lips, then your nose, wiggling his eyebrows.“Next time I want to finish on your tits.” 

“How crude!” You laughed, throwing a pillow at his face, which he let himself get hit by.

“Whatever.” He caught the pillow and laid it by your head. “I’m your boyfriend. I can say that.”

“Guess so,” you said absentmindedly. 

After taking a minute to recover, you decided to go pee—which Jungkook remembered from his research was a good thing to do after sex. While you were freshening up, he took it upon himself to clean the room, making the bed and tidying up any stray clothes on the floor.

He put on his sweatpants and a random black shirt he found lying around. In the living room, he gathered a few snacks and blankets and threw them on the couch. 

Just as you left the bathroom, he was turning Netflix on his TV. 

You had washed your face and put your clothes on, baggy pink hoodie making a reappearance. Your hair was loose, pigtails long gone. 

“I found your glasses.” He waved them around in the air. “And I’m thinking we should finally watch that new Demon Slayer movie?”

A grin lit up your face.

You charged towards him, effectively pushing him back onto the couch, somehow grabbing your glasses in the process.

A quick, cheeky kiss. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he chuckled, feeling on top of the world as he sat up.

Wordlessly, you settled into his arms, snuggling against his chest. You took the remote and started playing the movie, hair smelling of milky shampoo. 

You fit so perfectly next to him, he could almost melt at your touch. 

How simple it was to be with you. 

As the movie started, he reflected on the complicated journey it took to get here. The misunderstandings and awkward moments, dancing around each other blindly and everything.

If only he’d told you sooner. Or if only you’d told him sooner. Maybe things wouldn’t have been so difficult. 

But then he came back to reality, where your head was on his chest, his nose in your hair. He watched as you scrunched your glasses up—something he always thought was adorable. He listened as you giggled those perfect giggles when something funny happened. 

Then he thought that maybe—just maybe—everything happened exactly as they were meant to.

Jungkook had the highest grades in the class.

Well… not quite.

You were just above him by a fraction of a percent.

And if the way his jaw clenched whenever graded reports were handed back meant anything, he knew it.

That wasn’t the only reason things were tense between you, but it certainly didn’t help. Now here you were, two top students in your university's entomology program, jetlagged and sitting stiffly on opposite sides of a modest hotel room in Belize, pretending this arrangement was perfectly fine.

It wasn’t.

The air was thick with humidity and something unspoken — not quite rivalry, not quite resentment, not quite… something else. You weren’t sure what to call it.

The trip had been Professor Choi’s idea. Fieldwork in the tropics, hands-on specimen collection, rainforest immersion — all very career-making opportunities for young researchers. You’d been thrilled at first until you saw the room assignments taped to the inside of the shuttle windows and saw his name printed under yours.

Room 204: Y/N Jungkook

You both blinked at the list in silence. Said nothing. Said too much in that nothing.

And now here you were.

He sat at the desk by the window, scrolling through the trip itinerary on his laptop, one hand curled loosely around a reusable water bottle. You were on the bed, cross-legged with your own notebook balanced in your lap, pretending to revise tomorrow’s field notes but mostly just watching him from the corner of your eye.

He looked tired. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends, and a faint flush lingered on his cheeks from the heat. The collar of his sleep shirt was askew.

You turned your gaze back to your page.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable. It wasn’t the kind of silence that grows out of familiarity — the easy, lived-in quiet that people share. This was sharp around the edges, brittle and full of unsaid things.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “You need the desk at all, or…?”

You glanced up. “No, you’re good.”

He nodded, then shifted in his chair. The legs scraped softly against the tile floor.

You were both trying to be polite — textbook academic composure. But it was like trying to build a bridge over a minefield. You were rivals, but not enemies. You were acquaintances, but not quite friends. And there’d always been something a little charged in the way he looked at you. As if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to outpace you or understand you. Maybe both.

You leaned back on your elbows, exhaling softly. “You packed the pinning kits, right?”

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. Two of them. Yours is in the side pouch.”

“Thanks.” Not dry, not too much emotion.

Silence again.

He turned in his chair slightly, thumb tapping idly at the rim of his bottle. “You think we’ll get lucky with the beetle counts tomorrow?”

You smiled faintly at the ceiling. “If the rain holds off, maybe.”

More silence.

The distant hum of cicadas buzzed beyond the windows.

You closed your notebook slowly. “This is weird, right?”

He blinked. “What is?”

You motioned vaguely between you. “This. Us. Rooming.”

Jungkook laughed under his breath, almost sheepish. “Yeah. A little.”

You tilted your head toward him. “You’re not gonna kill me in my sleep to bump your GPA up or anything?”

He grinned, finally — teeth flashing, his earlier stiffness fading a little. “Only if your specimen count tomorrow is better than mine.”

You snorted. “So, absolutely then.”

And there it was. The first crack in the tension. Small, but real.

You both sat with it for a moment — the shared smile, the mutual acknowledgment that this was going to be weird, but maybe not unbearable.

You turned toward the bedside lamp. “Lights out?”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah. Big day tomorrow.”

You clicked the lamp off, and the room fell into a hush, lit only by the soft blue glow of streetlights bleeding through the curtain.

You didn’t sleep right away. Neither did he.

The silence between you was louder now, pressed thin by the narrow space you shared — just one bed, too small for comfort, too close for denial. You were lying back to back, bodies angled to avoid touching, but you could feel him. The heat of him. The subtle shift of the mattress whenever he adjusted his position, trying not to disturb you.

You stared at the ceiling, eyes tracing patterns in the dark. Every breath felt calculated. Every inch of space felt borrowed.

Jungkook exhaled softly. “You awake?”

His voice was low, barely more than a murmur against the hum of the air conditioner.

You hesitated. “Yeah.”

Another beat passed. He didn’t say anything else.

Your fingers curled against the sheets, restless. You could sense him thinking — the same way you’d always been able to tell when he was working through something he didn’t want to admit out loud. You weren’t touching, but somehow, you felt too close. And not close enough.

The bed dipped slightly as he shifted again. You stared harder at the ceiling.

This was ridiculous.

“I’ll sleep on the floor tomorrow,” he said suddenly. Quiet. Like it had been weighing on him.

You turned your head slightly, but didn’t look at him. “Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s not—”

“It’s fine, Jungkook.”

More silence.

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe past the static building in your chest. It was just one bed. Just a hotel. Just a field study.

And tomorrow, the jungle awaited.

You were halfway to the bathroom with your crumpled bra in hand, clutching it like it was evidence in a crime scene, when his voice cut through the quiet.

“I noticed, by the way.”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

He didn’t look up right away, still chewing thoughtfully, but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth said he knew exactly what he’d done.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Noticed what?” you asked too quickly, too defensively.

Jungkook finally raised his gaze to meet yours, and it was almost too casual—like he was trying hard not to make it a big deal.

“You took your bra off last night,” he said, as simply as someone pointing out it might rain later. “Figured it wasn’t on purpose, but I didn’t say anything. Didn’t wanna make it worse.”

Your face burned. Your entire body went still. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blink.

He set his fork down and leaned his head back against the side of the bed, looking up at you with that easy grin of his.

“I’ve got sisters. A mom. It’s not a big deal, Y/N. I’m not gonna make you sneak around and jump like you just committed a felony every time you need to breathe comfortably.”

He laughed softly, like he was genuinely amused, not mocking you. Not even a little. Just… at ease with you, even in your most flustered moment.

“I mean,” he added, glancing back down at his tray, “you’ve seen me shirtless, what, like twenty times? And I’m pretty sure I woke up drooling. So really, we’re even.”

You finally managed to exhale, your fingers tightening around the bra in your hand. The tension started to fade from your shoulders, embarrassment slowly melting into reluctant laughter.

“Still,” you mumbled, stepping backward toward the bathroom, “could’ve let me think I got away with it.”

He smirked and took another bite. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You had a spoon clenched between your teeth, a cold scrambled egg half-forgotten as you tried to wrestle your field notebook into the front pocket of your backpack. The zipper caught—again—and you cursed under your breath, juggling between tugging it loose, checking the time, and trying not to spill the instant coffee you hadn’t even touched yet.

“Shit,” you muttered, toeing your hiking boots on at the same time.

Across the room, Jungkook had been quietly slipping sunscreen into his own pack, but the way his eyes flicked up told you he’d been watching you struggle for a while now.

“Hey,” he said, already moving toward you before you could huff your next breath. “I can do this while you eat.”

You looked up at him, egg still stuck between your teeth, brow furrowed.

“Seriously,” he said, reaching for your pack and sliding it effortlessly away from your lap. “Don’t worry. They can’t leave us. We’re the two most promising young minds in this entire doomed trip.”

He was grinning. A soft, crooked grin that barely hid how much he liked helping you.

You let out a breath—sharp, surprised, grateful—and slumped back into the chair like you hadn’t realized how tense you’d been until he said something.

He chuckled at the way your body deflated, like a balloon finally allowed to let go of all its panic. “There she is,” he murmured. “Breathing again.”

You mumbled a sarcastic thank you through a mouthful of cold toast, and he only laughed harder, crouched by your bag, hands moving with the kind of quiet precision you always admired in him. Still barefoot, hair a mess, sleeves pushed up. Still calm, even when you were a storm.

You watched him for a second too long before returning to your breakfast. Something in your chest shifted.

You popped the last bite of toast into your mouth, chewing slowly as you reached for your belt and clipped it around your waist. It took a second for your fingers to work—still stiff with leftover adrenaline from the morning rush—but you managed to fasten it snug over your shorts.

“Can you double-check my pack?” you asked, mouth half full, motioning toward the backpack Jungkook had just finished organizing. “Make sure I didn’t forget anything? I always forget something.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave you a look over his shoulder—brows raised, amused—and walked his fingers over the zipper before unfastening it again.

“You mean like how you almost left your GPS on the nightstand?” he teased, pulling the small black device from the front pocket and holding it up between two fingers.

You rolled your eyes and reached for it, but he pulled it just out of reach with a grin. “Tsk. And you call yourself an organized person.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I am organized.”

“Sure,” he said, not bothering to hide his smirk as he tucked the GPS safely into the correct side compartment. “Organized chaos, maybe.”

You muttered something under your breath, but he was already half-laughing to himself as he moved on. He checked the specimen jars, your field knife, the small notebook you’d marked up with the region’s insect life. His fingers lingered briefly on a folded-up poncho and the extra batteries you always insisted on carrying.

“Looks good,” he finally said, zipping it back up and standing. “Prepared for all six plagues of Belize.”

You slung the pack over your shoulder with a grateful sigh and adjusted the strap. “Thanks, Jungkook.”

His eyes softened. “You’d do it for me.”

You didn’t say anything—just gave a small nod and a half-smile, one he returned with quiet sincerity. The air between you held something steady now. Unspoken, but beginning to feel inevitable.

Eight students total were selected for the field study. Four rooms, four pairs. Naturally, everyone was grouped off with their roommates for the first day’s assignment—which meant you were with Jungkook.

The two of you had been assigned the northeastern quadrant of the reserve, where the jungle grew denser and the canopy darker. You were barely fifteen minutes in before the mosquitoes had declared war and the trail had all but vanished beneath the thick undergrowth.

“The Pepsis grossa—tarantula hawk wasp—is usually found around decaying logs and near ceiba trees,” you said, squinting down at the coordinates on the field map in your hands. “So if we head northeast—”

“We should be heading east,” Jungkook interrupted, brushing past you. “The terrain flattens out faster that way. We’ll get a better survey sample.”

You blinked. “East takes us away from the rotting wood clusters,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “It doesn’t match the pattern from last year’s reports.”

“Yeah, but those reports were done in the dry season. This is wet season,” Jungkook shot back. “Everything shifts. Trust me.”

You held your breath, counting to three in your head. “I do trust you,” you said calmly. “I’m just saying we should follow the data before gut instinct.”

He huffed, adjusting his backpack. “You always have to be the one leading, huh?”

That stung more than you wanted to admit.

Instead of replying, you stepped ahead and veered slightly off the trail toward a shaded patch of overgrowth. The silence stretched until it started to feel like static in your ears. You pulled the sunscreen bottle from your pack and held it up without looking at him.

“Can you get my back? I forgot to reapply.”

He hesitated for a moment, then took the bottle wordlessly. His fingers were gentle as they brushed across your shoulders, the cold lotion a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat. His touch was soft—softer than you expected, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t just spreading sunscreen but… studying you.

You leaned slightly into it, breaking the tension with a half-smile. “You’ve got surprisingly delicate hands. You sure you didn’t pick the wrong field? Could’ve been a masseuse.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Please. I know my way around a woman’s body.”

You tensed, the air snapping back into discomfort. The joke sat there, loud and stupid and heavy between you.

You cleared your throat and took a quick step forward. “Right. GPS,” you muttered, digging through your belt pouch in a panic. Your fingers searched through tangled cords and folded paper, but it wasn’t there. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, already pulling off his backpack.

“My GPS unit’s gone. It was clipped to my belt this morning—I swear—”

“I’ve got mine,” he said, tugging it out, only to press the button and stare at the blank screen. “Dead. Battery’s toast.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe. “Okay. It’s fine. Compass. We’ll use—” But as you turned to him, he was already tearing through the front pocket of his pack. His hands stilled.

“It’s not here,” he said.

You blinked at him. “You didn’t bring your compass?”

“I did,” he said, jaw tightening. “It must’ve fallen out.”

“That’s two navigational tools you didn’t check before leaving,” you snapped, voice rising before you could stop it. “God, Jungkook, do you even care that this isn’t just some day hike? This is research. This is my grade too.”

He straightened up, bristling. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some idiot. I packed last minute because someone took the bathroom for forty minutes.”

You scoffed. “You’re blaming your missing compass on my shower?”

“I’m saying maybe if you didn’t spend all your time trying to prove you’re the smartest person in the room, we’d be working together.”

That was the last thread.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, stepping away from him, hands on your hips as you stared at the thick canopy overhead like it could somehow cool the rage prickling under your skin. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jungkook stood there, silent for a moment, his face unreadable.

You didn’t even want to look at him. Not when your skin still tingled where his hands had been. Not when your chest ached like the disappointment had sunk into your ribs.

The silence stretched so long it made your ears ring. The thick, wet heat clung to your skin, and for a moment, all you could hear was the low hum of cicadas and the dull thudding of your pulse behind your ears.

You inhaled deeply, your breath catching slightly in your chest as you unscrewed the cap of your water bottle. Don’t snap. Don’t cry. Don’t let him see it. You drank, slow and measured, the lukewarm water doing nothing to soothe the burning in your throat. You were aware of how much was left—three swallows, maybe four. You capped it again and nodded to yourself.

“We’ll figure this out,” you said tightly, trying to summon calm with the words. You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. “We just need to head downhill. Running water means trail markers. Civilization.”

Jungkook said nothing at first. You could feel him watching you, though. Like he wanted to say something and didn’t know how to start. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. The tension hadn’t gone away—it just changed shape, curdled into something heavier.

You adjusted your bag, eyes scanning the patch of sky above the canopy, gauging direction by the sun.

“You’re mad,” he finally said, voice low.

You laughed, humorless. “Yeah. I am.”

A beat.

“I didn’t mean to mess things up,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve been... difficult.”

You turned slowly, your eyes locking on his for the first time since you’d raised your voice. He looked almost sheepish, like the fight had knocked something loose in him. And it made your throat ache even more.

“We’ll figure it out,” you repeated—this time softer, like a promise. You didn’t know if you meant the navigation or everything else. Maybe both.

“I just don’t understand how this happened,” you muttered, voice tinged with fatigue and frustration. “We both double-checked our packs. I watched you check mine.”

Jungkook didn’t argue. He looked like he wanted to, like there was a defense half-formed on his tongue, but it died under the weight of your exhaustion. You sighed and crouched, elbows braced on your knees, head falling between them. The pressure in your skull eased just slightly like that, grounded by the dirt, by the air, by the rising sound of the jungle around you.

You stayed like that for a few moments—long enough for the shame of snapping at him to dull. Long enough for the fear to set in properly, simmering beneath the surface like a slow boil. But then…

“Okay,” Jungkook said, gently. “Let’s just… start walking. That ridge we passed might be west. And if we follow the slope, we’ll hit the trail eventually.”

You nodded without a word and stood, brushing the backs of your thighs and tightening the straps on your backpack. He offered you a look that felt like truce—exhausted but quietly open. And you didn’t say anything. Just started walking beside him, deeper into the green.

You weren’t sure if you were headed in the right direction. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it wasn’t. But the fact that you were together made the whole thing just a little less terrifying.

After a while, your breathing evened out. The panic began to dull, replaced by something more manageable. You looked around the jungle, at the buzzing canopy above and the earth beneath your boots, and suddenly, the silence was too loud again.

“I was eight,” you said suddenly, not even realizing you were speaking until Jungkook glanced sideways at you. “The day I decided to study bugs.”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “We were on a camping trip. My dad caught me screaming over this beetle on my sleeping bag. It was huge—I mean massive. Orange and black. I cried like a baby. But he just picked it up and let it crawl on his hand. Told me it couldn’t hurt me, and it was just... exploring.”

Jungkook made a soft sound. “Your dad sounds cool.”

You smiled faintly, still watching the dirt path. “He was. He told me that being afraid of little things would make the big things scarier. So I held the beetle. It tickled. Didn’t cry after that.”

There was a beat of silence, warm and quiet.

“Guess that explains why you didn’t flinch when that tarantula crawled onto your leg last week,” Jungkook muttered.

You laughed, soft and genuine this time. “I flinched. I just flinched internally.”

He grinned. “You’re the only person I know who would rather be lost in the jungle than in a room full of people.”

You met his eyes briefly and gave a half-shrug. “People are harder to read than bugs.”

Jungkook hummed at that. He didn’t argue. Just walked a little closer to you—close enough that your shoulders brushed now and then. The tension hadn’t vanished completely, but it had shifted again—into something quieter, a little heavier, and a lot harder to ignore.

The jungle felt endless—green stacked on green, the canopy dripping with filtered sunlight. You pushed aside another low branch, sweat beading at your hairline, and tried to ignore how your shirt clung damp to your skin.

“Hold on,” Jungkook said suddenly, catching your wrist before you walked straight into a patch of thorns. His grip was firm, almost protective, and when you glanced back at him, his eyes darted away like he hadn’t meant to touch you for that long.

“Thanks,” you murmured, pulling free gently.

Little things like that kept happening—his palm at the small of your back as you crossed a slippery patch, the way his shoulder brushed yours when the trail narrowed, how he offered you his canteen before even thinking about drinking from it himself. You tried not to read into it, but each moment left your stomach tighter, your breath a little shallower.

A flash of movement on the bark of a massive ceiba tree—bold orange streaks patterned against black. Your pulse jumped.

“Jungkook, look!” you whispered, dropping to your knees with practiced ease. It was a Harlequin Beetle, rare to see in the open during the day. Its body was striking, almost painted, and the male’s impossibly long forelegs looked like something out of science fiction.

Both of you crouched, shoulders pressed together, as you carefully guided the beetle into a specimen vial. His breath was hot against your cheek as he leaned closer to get a better look, and you had to force yourself to focus on the insect instead of the way his thigh pressed into yours.

“Damn,” Jungkook breathed. “This is—this is huge. Everyone else is going to lose their minds.”

You smiled, proud. “We’re definitely ahead now.”

But then his shoulders dropped, like some part of him gave in. He let out a slow breath, eyes flicking to the canopy above. “You know why I started studying bugs?”

The question caught you off guard. You shook your head. “No. You never told me.”

He gave a small, humorless laugh. “Most people think it’s because I liked catching them as a kid. Which… yeah, I did. But the truth is—” He stopped, chewing his lip before continuing. “I just liked how small they were. How overlooked. I felt like that most of my life, you know? Quiet. Easy to ignore. Bugs don’t need to be loud or obvious to matter. They just… do what they’re meant to. And half the time, they’re more important than the things people actually notice.”

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his tone. Jungkook rarely said things like this, and when he did, it was always sideways, half-hidden under a joke. But not now. Now he looked almost raw, his fingers worrying at the strap of his pack.

“I thought maybe if I studied them,” he added softly, “I could figure out where I belonged too.”

For a long moment, you just watched him—his lowered lashes, the set of his mouth, the vulnerability he probably wished he could stuff back down.

For a long moment, you just watched him—his lowered lashes, the set of his mouth, the vulnerability he probably wished he could stuff back down.

“Jungkook,” you said quietly, “you belong more than you think.”

His eyes lifted, catching yours, and for a heartbeat the jungle went silent around you.

Then, almost abruptly, he stood. He cleared his throat, brushing the dirt from his hands like he could shake off the weight of what he’d just said. Without meeting your gaze, he nodded toward your pack.

“Let’s, uh—let’s get that beetle stored properly before it overheats,” he muttered. “We should keep moving if we want to make it back before dark.”

You watched as he carefully secured the vial inside his specimen case, movements precise, almost reverent. He lingered for just a second too long before slinging his pack onto his shoulders again.

When he finally glanced down at you, his face was composed, but there was still a shadow of the boy who’d confessed more than he probably meant to.

“Ready?” he asked.

You swallowed, nodded, and rose to your feet. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

So you fell into step again, the unspoken words trailing behind you like a third presence in the humid air.

You’d barely walked another half hour before voices broke through the dense hum of cicadas. Relief hit like cool water when two figures emerged from the foliage—classmates from the trip, both balancing specimen nets and field packs.

“Along the water, maybe?” one said to the other before spotting the two of you looking drained and defeated.

The decision was immediate—you and Jungkook fell in with them, the four of you moving together along the winding path. They had their compasses, their maps, their calm sense of direction. And neither of you was ready to head back to the hotel empty-handed, so it worked out to stick with them for now.

Jungkook ended up walking ahead with Marisol, their voices low as they compared notes on habitat zones. You hung back with the other girl, Eliza, who wasn’t so much interested in insects as she was in people.

“So,” she said, nudging your arm as you carefully avoided a tangle of vines. “What happened? Why were you two wandering off-track like that?”

You hesitated, tightening your grip on your pack straps. “Our GPS glitched, then the compass went missing. Total disaster. But we’re fine now.”

“Mm,” she hummed, not sounding particularly convinced. Then she gave you a sly sideways look. “What about the weird tension?”

You blinked. “What tension?”

Her grin widened. “The way he looks at you. The way you look back. Have you two hooked up yet?”

You nearly tripped over a root. Heat rushed to your face so fast it made you dizzy. “Wh—no! What? That’s… no.”

But the question echoed in your own mind, loud and unsettling. Had you? No. Did you want to?

The thought alone made your stomach flip. You and Jungkook had known each other long enough to be natural together, sure. Perfect in some ways, even. But also messy, complicated, a contradiction that made no sense when you tried to name it.

Still, Eliza’s knowing smirk lingered in your periphery, and you hated how badly it rattled you.

Eliza’s smirk didn’t fade, even after you stammered out your denial. She just hummed like she already knew better and skipped a step ahead, leaving you scrambling to collect your thoughts.

A twig cracked ahead of you. When you looked up, Jungkook’s shoulders were tense, head tilted just slightly—like he’d caught the last few words. Your stomach dropped, but he didn’t turn around. Didn’t say a thing. Just kept pace with Marisol, voice low as they discussed soil composition.

You swallowed hard, pretending you hadn’t noticed.

The four of you fell into work not long after, the chatter shifting toward more practical things. Marisol was quick to point out specimens you’d missed earlier—leafcutter ants carving highways through the underbrush, a flash of blue when a morpho butterfly darted past. Jungkook’s excitement lit up every time he got close enough to document something, his laugh carrying through the trees when a grasshopper nearly leapt onto his face.

With their help, your packs slowly began to fill with pinned finds and careful samples. Eliza was surprisingly good at spotting movement in the brush, and Marisol’s steady hand with the nets kept you from fumbling every catch. It was easier to breathe when you were all crouched together, comparing notes, wiping sweat from your brows.

For a while, it was almost like the earlier tension had evaporated into the humid air. Almost.

Every now and then, you caught Jungkook glancing over his shoulder—not at the trees, not at the undergrowth. At you. And each time, your pulse jumped, your mind circling back to Eliza’s question like a moth to a flame.

By the time the four of you made it back to the hotel, the sun had already dipped low, painting the walls of the lobby with heavy shadows. Sweat still clung to the back of your neck, the straps of your pack digging deep, but relief made your limbs feel lighter.

Eliza and Marisol waved their goodbyes at the elevators, peeling off toward their room with promises to compare notes after dinner. That left just you and Jungkook, the silence between you still thick enough to taste.

The hallway stretched ahead, carpet muffling your footsteps. You tried not to fidget with the strap of your bag, tried not to glance at him out of the corner of your eye, but the tension was there—an electric hum between two magnets too stubborn to either pull close or push away.

And then you saw it.

Right outside your door, sitting neat as anything, was your GPS.

You stopped dead, staring down at the small device like it was mocking you. Jungkook nearly ran into you before following your gaze. For a second the two of you just blinked at it—then laughter burst out of both your chests, sharp and unrestrained, the kind that came when you’d been wound too tight for too long.

“Unbelievable,” you managed, doubling over with your pack still on. “All that panic—”

“—and it was right here the whole time.” Jungkook shook his head, grinning so hard his dimple showed.

Still chuckling, you swiped the GPS off the floor, unlocked the door, and pushed inside. The cool air of the room swept over you, tugging the tension down another notch—until your eyes landed on the small silver circle resting on the carpet near the foot of the bed.

Your compass.

Exactly where you’d struggled with your shoes this morning.

Jungkook spotted it the same moment you did, his grin faltering into something softer, sheepish. You let out a groan, covering your face with both hands.

“We’re idiots,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly, though there was a hint of laughter still in his voice. “But at least we’re idiots together.”

And just like that, the tension shifted—still there, but less like a storm waiting to break and more like a spark hovering in the air, waiting for the right moment to catch.

You dropped your pack by the desk and crouched to unzip it, already sorting through notebooks, specimen jars, and your still half-eaten breakfast tucked into a napkin. “I’ll start unpacking,” you said, waving vaguely toward the bathroom. “You should shower first before you collapse.”

Jungkook slung his bag onto the other bed, tugging out a clean shirt and sweatpants. He gave you a tired grin, eyes rimmed red from the sun and hours of focus. “Deal. But only if you promise not to eat my share of the snacks while I’m in there.”

You huffed a laugh, pulling out one of your field notebooks. “No promises.”

As he gathered his things, you both fell into the kind of easy conversation that came when neither of you had the energy to think too hard.

“So… dinner downstairs? The hotel restaurant probably has more options than room service,” you suggested, trying to sound chipper even as your jaw cracked with a yawn.

He paused, clutching his towel over his shoulder. “Actually, I saw this cool little place a few streets over yesterday, when we were driving in. Looked local—authentic. Could be worth checking out.”

You groaned, letting your head drop forward into your hands. “Wait, don’t we have to go to the bank to convert more money first?”

Jungkook tilted his head, already halfway toward the bathroom. “Yeah… probably.”

There was a long, tired pause. You let out a sigh that carried the weight of the entire jungle, the sweat, the panic over the GPS. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t have the energy to find a bank, or walk three streets, or smile politely at strangers while I fumble with cash. I’m literally too tired to talk to anyone.”

Your voice cracked into a laugh at the end, tired and resigned all at once. Jungkook’s chuckle answered from across the room, soft and warm.

“Room service it is. I don’t mind a boring dinner on the first night,” he said, disappearing into the bathroom. “Wake me up if I fall asleep in the shower.”

You snorted, shaking your head as the door clicked shut behind him, the sound of running water filling the room.

By the time you’d finished unpacking, Jungkook had claimed the bathroom. The sound of water against tile carried through the walls, and every now and then you caught yourself glancing toward the door, imagining the steam building up inside. You shook it off, tucking your last specimen jar onto the desk and stretching out your arms until your shoulders popped.

A few minutes later, the door swung open with a hiss of steam. Jungkook stepped out, shirtless, skin still damp and catching the lamplight. His hair clung in dark strands against his forehead, and his face was hidden beneath a smooth, glossy sheet mask.

“Your turn,” he said, padding barefoot across the carpet. His voice was muffled by the mask, playful but casual, as though this wasn’t the most disarming sight you’d ever witnessed. In his hand, he held out another packet. “I brought extras. Wanna do one too?”

You blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then, forcing your throat to cooperate, you managed, “Uh—yeah. Sure.” The word snagged in your mouth, your stutter obvious even to your own ears. You took the packet quickly, nodding like it was no big deal, before retreating into the bathroom with your shower bag.

The hot water did little to quiet the buzz in your chest.

When you came back out, hair damp and your own mask cooling your skin, Jungkook was already sitting cross-legged on one of the beds. He patted the empty space in front of him, where he’d spread the dinner menu out like it was a deck of cards.

“Come on. Help me decide before I just give up and order three desserts,” he teased, his words peeking out from under the sheet mask.

You settled down opposite him, crossing your legs so your knees brushed against the edge of the menu. Together you leaned forward, reading through the list of options.

“Okay, so… chicken sandwich?” you said, tapping it with your finger. “Kinda basic. But maybe basic is good—it might feel a little less like we’re a million miles away from home.”

“Or…” Jungkook tapped at the pasta, eyes crinkling in mischief beneath the mask, “we embrace the chaos and pretend hotel spaghetti counts as an authentic cultural experience.”

You snorted. “Pretty sure that’s the opposite of authentic.”

The banter settled into something light, easy. A rhythm you didn’t have to think about, even though you were hyper-aware of how close you sat to him, of the faint eucalyptus scent wafting from his mask.

When the timer on his phone chimed, you both reached up at the same time, peeling the masks from your faces in unison.

“Wow,” you sighed, pressing your fingertips into your cheeks. “That felt amazing. My skin hasn’t breathed like this since we got here.”

“Told you,” he said proudly, wadding the used mask into a napkin. “This brand is legit. My skin would’ve mutinied by now without it.” He tilted his head, studying your face with an intensity that made your pulse skip. “Looks good on you.”

You ducked your gaze quickly, pretending to re-read the menu. “Yeah, well… good on both of us.”

The moment lingered, warm and quiet, before he finally picked up the hotel phone. “Alright,” he said, voice casual, but softer than before. “Let’s make it official. Room service for two.”

His knuckles brushed the edge of the menu while he dialed, and you found yourself watching him—watching the curve of his mouth, the damp shine of his hair, the casual way he made the mundane suddenly feel like something more.

Dinner arrived on a rolling tray, the knock at the door startling you both out of the haze you’d slipped into while waiting. Jungkook carried the plates to the bed, and you settled onto the floor beside him, your plate balanced on the edge of the mattress.

It felt strangely natural—him above, you below, both leaning toward the food and toward each other. Your voices fell soft in the small space, the kind of hush reserved for the quiet hours of night.

“So,” you said between bites, “what made you decide to study insects anyway? I know why you love them but why are you making them your life? Was it the thrill of watching tiny creatures crawl around, or…?”

He smirked, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Nah. I always liked being outside. I hated sitting still as a kid. Bugs were just… everywhere. And no one else wanted to look at them for long, so I got to feel like I was discovering something.”

You grinned, nodding. “That makes sense. I was the opposite. I was the kid with thick glasses, reading bug encyclopedias instead of going outside. Total nerd.”

He chuckled, tilting his plate toward you. “A nerd who still beat me for the top spot in class.”

“Barely,” you shot back, playful but sheepish. Then, after a pause, you added quietly, “I was bullied a lot for it. For being too curious. Too different. Studying bugs didn’t exactly earn me popularity points.”

Something in Jungkook’s face softened. He leaned down, fork spearing a bite from his plate and holding it out toward you. “Guess the nerds win in the end.”

You rolled your eyes, but leaned forward, letting him feed you. The taste of his dish lingered sweet and tangy on your tongue. Without thinking, you cut a piece from your own plate and offered it up to him. His lips brushed the fork, and for one too-long second, you were caught watching them.

The conversation drifted, the food dwindled, until Jungkook leaned back against the headboard with a little sigh. “You know what’s funny?” he said, voice almost hesitant. “I was popular in school. Always had people around me. But I never dated anyone.”

Your brows lifted. “Never?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t feel right. Didn’t want to… waste time on something that didn’t mean anything.”

You swallowed, the words settling heavy in your chest. “That’s the opposite of me. I dated, but… only assholes. Like I was trying to prove I deserved worse than I wanted.”

Dinner was nearly done, plates balanced carelessly on the edge of the bed between you. You were picking at the last few bites of rice when Jungkook’s voice cut in, low and curious.

“Hey—don’t move.”

Your fork froze midair. “What?”

He tilted his chin, eyes glinting with something between mischief and fascination. “Spider. Right here.” He angled his shoulder toward you, where a tiny spider had spun down on a thread, dangling just above his collarbone.

You leaned closer automatically, the scientist in you sparking. “That’s… actually a Salticidae. Jumping spider,” you murmured, surprised at how steady your voice sounded when your heart was suddenly beating so fast.

“Cute little thing, huh?” Jungkook’s smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he held still, watching the spider inch closer to his jaw. “Almost looks like it’s inspecting me.”

You laughed under your breath, crawling onto your knees to get a better look. The bed dipped as you placed a hand on the mattress for balance, your face now just inches from his. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not impressed.”

He smirked. “Neither are you, apparently.”

You ignored that, focusing instead on gently coaxing the spider onto your fingertip before letting it crawl down to the carpet, free to wander.

When you looked back up, Jungkook’s eyes were already waiting for you. Close. Too close.

The air shifted—still, charged. His smirk softened, and in the quiet, you realized you were hovering over him, your knees pressed into the mattress, your body angled toward his.

Neither of you said a word.

Slowly, drawn as if by gravity, you crawled higher, your palms pressing into the sheets on either side of his thighs. His breath mingled with yours, warm and steady, and then you were kissing him—tentative at first, lips brushing lips, before he leaned up into you.

His hands found your waist, then slid beneath your shirt, fingers gliding against your bare back with a kind of reverence. The touch made you shiver, your body pressing closer as you shifted fully into his lap, straddling him.

The kiss deepened, slow and molten, the taste of him still laced with the faint salt of dinner, the scent of soap lingering from his shower. Your chest brushed against his as he tilted his head, guiding you into something hungrier, something that had clearly been waiting to break loose.

When you finally pulled back, foreheads pressed together, you were both breathing hard, the forgotten plates cooling on the floor. His thumbs traced the dip of your spine as though he needed the anchor, as though letting go of you wasn’t an option.

His thumb lingered at the corner of your mouth, tracing the shape of your lip as though memorizing it. Both of you were still breathing hard, lungs trying to catch up with the heat that had overtaken the room. You stared into his eyes, searching, but his gaze refused to leave your lips—dark, intent, as if he couldn’t look anywhere else.

Slowly, he pressed his thumb past your parted lips, the pad resting on your tongue. You froze for only a heartbeat, instinct taking over as your mouth closed around him. The faint taste of salt, the warmth of his skin, made the moment headier than you expected. His breath hitched, shallow and ragged, chest rising against yours as your tongue brushed against his fingertip.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, low and broken, his lips curving like he couldn’t believe you were doing this. He pulled his thumb free just enough to drag it across your bottom lip, smearing spit along the curve before pushing it back in, slower this time, watching the way your mouth yielded to him.

You sucked without thinking, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on his. The air between you thickened until it felt impossible to breathe. He finally tugged his thumb free, glistening, and dragged it down your chin before curling his hand around the back of your neck.

“Come here,” he whispered, voice husky, tugging you back into another kiss.

This one wasn’t tentative—it was urgent, mouths crashing, teeth clashing, tongues sliding hot and messy. You clutched at his shoulders as his hands slid up your bare back again, palms flat, keeping you pressed tight against him while your hips ground down against his lap.

The kiss deepened until you forgot about the food cooling on the floor, the soft clatter of plates barely registering when your hand slipped and knocked one askew. All that existed was him—his mouth, hot and insistent against yours, his hands sliding over every inch of your skin like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch first.

Your knees pressed tighter into the mattress as you shifted higher in his lap, straddling him fully, chest to chest. His breath shuddered when you rolled your hips, the hard press of him beneath his sweats undeniable now. He broke from your mouth just long enough to groan, forehead pressed to yours, lips dragging over the edge of your jaw as though he needed to taste more.

Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt, tugging at the fabric until you felt the heat of his skin underneath. He laughed—quiet, strangled—when you mouthed at the line of his throat, his fingers gripping your hips tighter, urging you to move again.

“Fuck—” he hissed when you did, slow and deliberate, dragging your core against him. His grip shifted, one hand cupping the back of your neck again, the other skimming up under your shirt to trace the line of your spine.

When your kisses softened—gentle brushes over his lips like you were savoring him—he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, blown wide, his voice a low rasp as he muttered, “You don’t have to be so gentle with me.”

The words sent a shiver racing down your spine. Before you could respond, he tugged you back in, teeth grazing your bottom lip, biting just enough to sting before soothing the spot with his tongue. His hands slid down to grab at your ass, pulling you harder against him, making the friction sharper, dirtier.

You gasped into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders now, body instinctively pressing closer, chasing more. The kiss turned messy again, desperate, both of you breathing hard into each other’s mouths as if air only existed between your lips.

Your gasp dissolved into another kiss when he tugged you down harder against him, rolling his hips up at the same time. The friction was maddening—your thin shorts dragging against the hard line of him under his sweats. Both of you groaned into each other’s mouths at the same time, the sound desperate, needy.

You broke away for air, panting, forehead pressed to his as your hips found a rhythm against him. His hands guided you, big palms on your waist sliding lower to grip the curve of your ass, fingers digging in just enough to make you whimper.

“Like that,” he muttered, jaw tight, his head tipping back when you rocked down harder. The muscles in his neck strained, and for a moment you couldn’t help but kiss along his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling his pulse race under your lips.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you breathed, words tumbling out before you could catch them. His answering groan was guttural, his hips jerking up into you with more force.

The slow drag turned messy, frantic—your body chasing relief, his meeting you with the same urgency. The air was thick with the sound of your breathing, your muffled moans breaking every time his cock pressed perfectly against you through the layers of fabric.

He caught your mouth again, messy and wet, tongue tangling with yours while his grip on you tightened. Each grind had you clinging to him harder, your nails raking down his back, your body shuddering with the building heat in your core.

“Don’t stop,” he rasped against your lips, voice breaking with need. His thighs shifted beneath you, bracing, giving you more leverage, urging you to move faster.

You buried your face in his shoulder, biting back a cry as you rode him, every rock of your hips sending sparks through your body. His chest heaved against yours, his hands practically holding you in place as he thrust up to meet you, every movement sharper, hungrier.

The world blurred—just sweat, heat, the press of his body and the dizzy rush of pleasure coiling tighter, tighter—

Your rhythm turned frantic, sloppy, every drag of his cock against your soaked shorts pushing you closer to the edge. He met you thrust for thrust, hips snapping up into yours like he couldn’t get enough, the fabric between you nothing but torture now.

“Jungkook—” you gasped, nails biting into his shoulders, head thrown back as the tension in your belly threatened to snap.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, voice thick, his head burying against your neck. His teeth grazed your skin as his hips bucked up harder, faster. “Don’t hold back—fuck—just let go for me.”

The words wrecked you. You ground down harder, your thighs trembling as the pressure exploded, your orgasm tearing through you. A sharp cry left your throat as your body convulsed against him, clinging desperately to his slick skin.

He cursed low, broken, shoving up into you as he came undone, rutting through his release with his jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut. His grip bruised at your waist as he held you flush against him, riding out every desperate grind until his body finally stilled under yours.

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, your foreheads pressed together, both of you trembling and dazed.

Then his voice came soft, almost reverent, brushing against your lips.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, thumb stroking your cheek. His tone was hoarse but steady, like he meant every syllable. “So fucking perfect. You feel so good… you make me feel so good.”

His eyes searched yours, tender despite the sweat and the mess, his words breaking through the haze and sinking into you like a vow.

You slumped against him, chest still heaving, the sticky warmth between you both proof of what just happened. The reality of it washed over you all at once and you found yourself murmuring, “That was… impulsive.”

Jungkook tilted his head, dark eyes on you, thumb tracing lazy circles along your back. “Maybe,” he admitted softly, “but don’t act like I imagined this.”

You blinked up at him, confused, until he gave a tiny, almost guilty smile.

“I overheard you with Eliza earlier,” he said, voice quiet, almost tentative. “When she asked if we’d hooked up yet. The way you froze? The way you couldn’t answer?” His hand moved up, brushing your hair back gently. “I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling it.”

Your lips parted, embarrassment flooding your face, but he didn’t give you the chance to spiral.

“And I’ve been wondering all day if the tension was just in my head.” His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, tender. “Guess I got my answer.”

You swallowed hard, shifting slightly in his lap, still clinging to a last thread of hesitation. “But what if this makes the rest of the trip awkward?” you whispered.

He huffed a laugh through his nose, leaning his forehead against yours. “The shared bed is awfully convenient, don’t you think?” His lips quirked, teasing but still warm. “Only took us a day.”

That dragged a reluctant laugh from you, soft and quiet. You hadn’t even realized his fingers had found their way into your hair until the gentle tug of them made you lean closer, melting under his touch.

“Hey,” he murmured, eyes soft but steady, voice dipping into something so sure it made your stomach flip. “You don’t have to overthink this. We’re okay. I want this—want you. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

And somehow, the reassurance landed perfectly, wrapping around you like safety itself.

You rest your forehead against his chest, breathing in his scent. It’s quiet apart from the hotel air humming low, and you imagine if you stayed in this moment forever, you almost could.

Then Jungkook shifts, clearing his throat. “I should probably, you know… change,” He teases lightly, voice thick with warmth. “Before this all… dries.” His tone was light, teasing. He straightens, carefully sliding you off his lap. You land on the bed softly, kneeling, watching him—skin still damp, hair dark and slick—from where you sit. He reaches for the bathroom door, pausing just inside the frame, turning back with a look that’s half playful, half something tender. Then he disappears behind the door.

He disappeared into the bathroom, door clicking shut behind him, and the second he was gone, you scrambled for your own bag. The adrenaline still buzzed in your body, but you worked quickly, tugging on an oversized tee and shorts, hesitating just long enough before deciding to leave your bra folded neatly at the bottom of your suitcase.

For the first time since arriving in Belize, your skin felt free, and more importantly—you didn’t feel the need to hide it from him anymore.

The days blurred together after that first night. Every morning started with the two of you brushing past each other in the cramped hotel bathroom, trying not to bump elbows while you traded turns at the sink. Every evening ended the same—plates on the floor, laughter filling the room, and the two of you pressed so close together in bed it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.

You went to the restaurant Jungkook had spotted, the whole group filling tables with food and chatter. Everyone swapped stories about their finds, specimens carefully catalogued, and laughed a little louder after a few drinks. You remember how his hand found yours under the table, how you didn’t pull away.

At night, though, that was yours and his time. Quiet dinners in your room, whispered jokes in the dark, limbs tangled under thin hotel sheets. It wasn’t just the intimacy—it was the comfort. The warmth.

By the time the trip wrapped, the bond felt unshakable.

At the airport bus, everyone dragged their luggage toward the waiting line, voices a little hoarse with exhaustion. Jungkook drifted off with the guys, their laughter echoing from the back of the group, while you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with Eliza.

“I can’t believe it’s already over,” she sighed.

You nodded. “Yeah. Honestly, I was so anxious the first night. Sharing a bed with Jungkook…” you trailed off, feeling your cheeks warm.

Eliza’s head snapped toward you. “Sharing a bed?” she repeated, her brows lifting.

You blinked, confused. “Yeah? We had one bed in our room.”

Her mouth dropped open, then she burst into laughter so sudden it made people turn around. “Y/N—what? We were all supposed to have separate beds!”

Your eyes widened, stomach dropping. “Wait, what?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she gasped through her laughter.

“I just thought everyone had to share beds!” you blurted, mortified, which only made her laugh harder, clutching her stomach.

The bus driver started calling for boarding, and you could still hear Eliza’s giggles echoing as you tried to process the realization.

When the two of you boarded, Jungkook slid into a window seat without hesitation, and you followed, settling beside him. The hum of the bus filled the silence, students already pulling out headphones or leaning against the glass. Jungkook slipped his arm around you like it was second nature, tugging you close until your side fit snug against his.

You hesitated, cheeks warming, before saying softly, “So, apparently… us only having one bed? That was a booking mistake.”

He turned to you, eyes wide for a split second before a grin spread across his face. His laugh rumbled low in his chest, shaking both of you. “A mistake, huh?”

You nodded, embarrassed. “Yeah. Eliza nearly cried laughing when I told her. I thought everyone had to share beds.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently, eyes still sparkling. “Well… I wouldn’t change it. Not one second. Worth every moment.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, heat crawling up your neck. You let out a small, nervous laugh, lowering your gaze to your hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

But your smile gave you away.

As the bus lurched into motion, the exhaustion of the past days finally caught up. You leaned into him, head resting against his chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand smoothed over your arm, holding you close, safe. Protective.

By the time the highway stretched out behind you, your eyes had already slipped shut, sleep finding you in the warmth of his embrace.

⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡

Jungkook had the highest grades in the class.

Well… not quite.

You were just above him by a fraction of a percent.

And if the way his jaw clenched whenever graded reports were handed back meant anything, he knew it.

That wasn’t the only reason things were tense between you, but it certainly didn’t help. Now here you were, two top students in your university's entomology program, jetlagged and sitting stiffly on opposite sides of a modest hotel room in Belize, pretending this arrangement was perfectly fine.

It wasn’t.

The air was thick with humidity and something unspoken — not quite rivalry, not quite resentment, not quite… something else. You weren’t sure what to call it.

The trip had been Professor Choi’s idea. Fieldwork in the tropics, hands-on specimen collection, rainforest immersion — all very career-making opportunities for young researchers. You’d been thrilled at first until you saw the room assignments taped to the inside of the shuttle windows and saw his name printed under yours.

Room 204: Y/N Jungkook

You both blinked at the list in silence. Said nothing. Said too much in that nothing.

And now here you were.

He sat at the desk by the window, scrolling through the trip itinerary on his laptop, one hand curled loosely around a reusable water bottle. You were on the bed, cross-legged with your own notebook balanced in your lap, pretending to revise tomorrow’s field notes but mostly just watching him from the corner of your eye.

He looked tired. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends, and a faint flush lingered on his cheeks from the heat. The collar of his sleep shirt was askew.

You turned your gaze back to your page.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable. It wasn’t the kind of silence that grows out of familiarity — the easy, lived-in quiet that people share. This was sharp around the edges, brittle and full of unsaid things.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “You need the desk at all, or…?”

You glanced up. “No, you’re good.”

He nodded, then shifted in his chair. The legs scraped softly against the tile floor.

You were both trying to be polite — textbook academic composure. But it was like trying to build a bridge over a minefield. You were rivals, but not enemies. You were acquaintances, but not quite friends. And there’d always been something a little charged in the way he looked at you. As if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to outpace you or understand you. Maybe both.

You leaned back on your elbows, exhaling softly. “You packed the pinning kits, right?”

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. Two of them. Yours is in the side pouch.”

“Thanks.” Not dry, not too much emotion.

Silence again.

He turned in his chair slightly, thumb tapping idly at the rim of his bottle. “You think we’ll get lucky with the beetle counts tomorrow?”

You smiled faintly at the ceiling. “If the rain holds off, maybe.”

More silence.

The distant hum of cicadas buzzed beyond the windows.

You closed your notebook slowly. “This is weird, right?”

He blinked. “What is?”

You motioned vaguely between you. “This. Us. Rooming.”

Jungkook laughed under his breath, almost sheepish. “Yeah. A little.”

You tilted your head toward him. “You’re not gonna kill me in my sleep to bump your GPA up or anything?”

He grinned, finally — teeth flashing, his earlier stiffness fading a little. “Only if your specimen count tomorrow is better than mine.”

You snorted. “So, absolutely then.”

And there it was. The first crack in the tension. Small, but real.

You both sat with it for a moment — the shared smile, the mutual acknowledgment that this was going to be weird, but maybe not unbearable.

You turned toward the bedside lamp. “Lights out?”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah. Big day tomorrow.”

You clicked the lamp off, and the room fell into a hush, lit only by the soft blue glow of streetlights bleeding through the curtain.

You didn’t sleep right away. Neither did he.

The silence between you was louder now, pressed thin by the narrow space you shared — just one bed, too small for comfort, too close for denial. You were lying back to back, bodies angled to avoid touching, but you could feel him. The heat of him. The subtle shift of the mattress whenever he adjusted his position, trying not to disturb you.

You stared at the ceiling, eyes tracing patterns in the dark. Every breath felt calculated. Every inch of space felt borrowed.

Jungkook exhaled softly. “You awake?”

His voice was low, barely more than a murmur against the hum of the air conditioner.

You hesitated. “Yeah.”

Another beat passed. He didn’t say anything else.

Your fingers curled against the sheets, restless. You could sense him thinking — the same way you’d always been able to tell when he was working through something he didn’t want to admit out loud. You weren’t touching, but somehow, you felt too close. And not close enough.

The bed dipped slightly as he shifted again. You stared harder at the ceiling.

This was ridiculous.

“I’ll sleep on the floor tomorrow,” he said suddenly. Quiet. Like it had been weighing on him.

You turned your head slightly, but didn’t look at him. “Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s not—”

“It’s fine, Jungkook.”

More silence.

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe past the static building in your chest. It was just one bed. Just a hotel. Just a field study.

And tomorrow, the jungle awaited.

You were halfway to the bathroom with your crumpled bra in hand, clutching it like it was evidence in a crime scene, when his voice cut through the quiet.

“I noticed, by the way.”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

He didn’t look up right away, still chewing thoughtfully, but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth said he knew exactly what he’d done.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Noticed what?” you asked too quickly, too defensively.

Jungkook finally raised his gaze to meet yours, and it was almost too casual—like he was trying hard not to make it a big deal.

“You took your bra off last night,” he said, as simply as someone pointing out it might rain later. “Figured it wasn’t on purpose, but I didn’t say anything. Didn’t wanna make it worse.”

Your face burned. Your entire body went still. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blink.

He set his fork down and leaned his head back against the side of the bed, looking up at you with that easy grin of his.

“I’ve got sisters. A mom. It’s not a big deal, Y/N. I’m not gonna make you sneak around and jump like you just committed a felony every time you need to breathe comfortably.”

He laughed softly, like he was genuinely amused, not mocking you. Not even a little. Just… at ease with you, even in your most flustered moment.

“I mean,” he added, glancing back down at his tray, “you’ve seen me shirtless, what, like twenty times? And I’m pretty sure I woke up drooling. So really, we’re even.”

You finally managed to exhale, your fingers tightening around the bra in your hand. The tension started to fade from your shoulders, embarrassment slowly melting into reluctant laughter.

“Still,” you mumbled, stepping backward toward the bathroom, “could’ve let me think I got away with it.”

He smirked and took another bite. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You had a spoon clenched between your teeth, a cold scrambled egg half-forgotten as you tried to wrestle your field notebook into the front pocket of your backpack. The zipper caught—again—and you cursed under your breath, juggling between tugging it loose, checking the time, and trying not to spill the instant coffee you hadn’t even touched yet.

“Shit,” you muttered, toeing your hiking boots on at the same time.

Across the room, Jungkook had been quietly slipping sunscreen into his own pack, but the way his eyes flicked up told you he’d been watching you struggle for a while now.

“Hey,” he said, already moving toward you before you could huff your next breath. “I can do this while you eat.”

You looked up at him, egg still stuck between your teeth, brow furrowed.

“Seriously,” he said, reaching for your pack and sliding it effortlessly away from your lap. “Don’t worry. They can’t leave us. We’re the two most promising young minds in this entire doomed trip.”

He was grinning. A soft, crooked grin that barely hid how much he liked helping you.

You let out a breath—sharp, surprised, grateful—and slumped back into the chair like you hadn’t realized how tense you’d been until he said something.

He chuckled at the way your body deflated, like a balloon finally allowed to let go of all its panic. “There she is,” he murmured. “Breathing again.”

You mumbled a sarcastic thank you through a mouthful of cold toast, and he only laughed harder, crouched by your bag, hands moving with the kind of quiet precision you always admired in him. Still barefoot, hair a mess, sleeves pushed up. Still calm, even when you were a storm.

You watched him for a second too long before returning to your breakfast. Something in your chest shifted.

You popped the last bite of toast into your mouth, chewing slowly as you reached for your belt and clipped it around your waist. It took a second for your fingers to work—still stiff with leftover adrenaline from the morning rush—but you managed to fasten it snug over your shorts.

“Can you double-check my pack?” you asked, mouth half full, motioning toward the backpack Jungkook had just finished organizing. “Make sure I didn’t forget anything? I always forget something.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave you a look over his shoulder—brows raised, amused—and walked his fingers over the zipper before unfastening it again.

“You mean like how you almost left your GPS on the nightstand?” he teased, pulling the small black device from the front pocket and holding it up between two fingers.

You rolled your eyes and reached for it, but he pulled it just out of reach with a grin. “Tsk. And you call yourself an organized person.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I am organized.”

“Sure,” he said, not bothering to hide his smirk as he tucked the GPS safely into the correct side compartment. “Organized chaos, maybe.”

You muttered something under your breath, but he was already half-laughing to himself as he moved on. He checked the specimen jars, your field knife, the small notebook you’d marked up with the region’s insect life. His fingers lingered briefly on a folded-up poncho and the extra batteries you always insisted on carrying.

“Looks good,” he finally said, zipping it back up and standing. “Prepared for all six plagues of Belize.”

You slung the pack over your shoulder with a grateful sigh and adjusted the strap. “Thanks, Jungkook.”

His eyes softened. “You’d do it for me.”

You didn’t say anything—just gave a small nod and a half-smile, one he returned with quiet sincerity. The air between you held something steady now. Unspoken, but beginning to feel inevitable.

Eight students total were selected for the field study. Four rooms, four pairs. Naturally, everyone was grouped off with their roommates for the first day’s assignment—which meant you were with Jungkook.

The two of you had been assigned the northeastern quadrant of the reserve, where the jungle grew denser and the canopy darker. You were barely fifteen minutes in before the mosquitoes had declared war and the trail had all but vanished beneath the thick undergrowth.

“The Pepsis grossa—tarantula hawk wasp—is usually found around decaying logs and near ceiba trees,” you said, squinting down at the coordinates on the field map in your hands. “So if we head northeast—”

“We should be heading east,” Jungkook interrupted, brushing past you. “The terrain flattens out faster that way. We’ll get a better survey sample.”

You blinked. “East takes us away from the rotting wood clusters,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “It doesn’t match the pattern from last year’s reports.”

“Yeah, but those reports were done in the dry season. This is wet season,” Jungkook shot back. “Everything shifts. Trust me.”

You held your breath, counting to three in your head. “I do trust you,” you said calmly. “I’m just saying we should follow the data before gut instinct.”

He huffed, adjusting his backpack. “You always have to be the one leading, huh?”

That stung more than you wanted to admit.

Instead of replying, you stepped ahead and veered slightly off the trail toward a shaded patch of overgrowth. The silence stretched until it started to feel like static in your ears. You pulled the sunscreen bottle from your pack and held it up without looking at him.

“Can you get my back? I forgot to reapply.”

He hesitated for a moment, then took the bottle wordlessly. His fingers were gentle as they brushed across your shoulders, the cold lotion a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat. His touch was soft—softer than you expected, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t just spreading sunscreen but… studying you.

You leaned slightly into it, breaking the tension with a half-smile. “You’ve got surprisingly delicate hands. You sure you didn’t pick the wrong field? Could’ve been a masseuse.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Please. I know my way around a woman’s body.”

You tensed, the air snapping back into discomfort. The joke sat there, loud and stupid and heavy between you.

You cleared your throat and took a quick step forward. “Right. GPS,” you muttered, digging through your belt pouch in a panic. Your fingers searched through tangled cords and folded paper, but it wasn’t there. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, already pulling off his backpack.

“My GPS unit’s gone. It was clipped to my belt this morning—I swear—”

“I’ve got mine,” he said, tugging it out, only to press the button and stare at the blank screen. “Dead. Battery’s toast.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe. “Okay. It’s fine. Compass. We’ll use—” But as you turned to him, he was already tearing through the front pocket of his pack. His hands stilled.

“It’s not here,” he said.

You blinked at him. “You didn’t bring your compass?”

“I did,” he said, jaw tightening. “It must’ve fallen out.”

“That’s two navigational tools you didn’t check before leaving,” you snapped, voice rising before you could stop it. “God, Jungkook, do you even care that this isn’t just some day hike? This is research. This is my grade too.”

He straightened up, bristling. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some idiot. I packed last minute because someone took the bathroom for forty minutes.”

You scoffed. “You’re blaming your missing compass on my shower?”

“I’m saying maybe if you didn’t spend all your time trying to prove you’re the smartest person in the room, we’d be working together.”

That was the last thread.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, stepping away from him, hands on your hips as you stared at the thick canopy overhead like it could somehow cool the rage prickling under your skin. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jungkook stood there, silent for a moment, his face unreadable.

You didn’t even want to look at him. Not when your skin still tingled where his hands had been. Not when your chest ached like the disappointment had sunk into your ribs.

The silence stretched so long it made your ears ring. The thick, wet heat clung to your skin, and for a moment, all you could hear was the low hum of cicadas and the dull thudding of your pulse behind your ears.

You inhaled deeply, your breath catching slightly in your chest as you unscrewed the cap of your water bottle. Don’t snap. Don’t cry. Don’t let him see it. You drank, slow and measured, the lukewarm water doing nothing to soothe the burning in your throat. You were aware of how much was left—three swallows, maybe four. You capped it again and nodded to yourself.

“We’ll figure this out,” you said tightly, trying to summon calm with the words. You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. “We just need to head downhill. Running water means trail markers. Civilization.”

Jungkook said nothing at first. You could feel him watching you, though. Like he wanted to say something and didn’t know how to start. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. The tension hadn’t gone away—it just changed shape, curdled into something heavier.

You adjusted your bag, eyes scanning the patch of sky above the canopy, gauging direction by the sun.

“You’re mad,” he finally said, voice low.

You laughed, humorless. “Yeah. I am.”

A beat.

“I didn’t mean to mess things up,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve been... difficult.”

You turned slowly, your eyes locking on his for the first time since you’d raised your voice. He looked almost sheepish, like the fight had knocked something loose in him. And it made your throat ache even more.

“We’ll figure it out,” you repeated—this time softer, like a promise. You didn’t know if you meant the navigation or everything else. Maybe both.

“I just don’t understand how this happened,” you muttered, voice tinged with fatigue and frustration. “We both double-checked our packs. I watched you check mine.”

Jungkook didn’t argue. He looked like he wanted to, like there was a defense half-formed on his tongue, but it died under the weight of your exhaustion. You sighed and crouched, elbows braced on your knees, head falling between them. The pressure in your skull eased just slightly like that, grounded by the dirt, by the air, by the rising sound of the jungle around you.

You stayed like that for a few moments—long enough for the shame of snapping at him to dull. Long enough for the fear to set in properly, simmering beneath the surface like a slow boil. But then…

“Okay,” Jungkook said, gently. “Let’s just… start walking. That ridge we passed might be west. And if we follow the slope, we’ll hit the trail eventually.”

You nodded without a word and stood, brushing the backs of your thighs and tightening the straps on your backpack. He offered you a look that felt like truce—exhausted but quietly open. And you didn’t say anything. Just started walking beside him, deeper into the green.

You weren’t sure if you were headed in the right direction. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it wasn’t. But the fact that you were together made the whole thing just a little less terrifying.

After a while, your breathing evened out. The panic began to dull, replaced by something more manageable. You looked around the jungle, at the buzzing canopy above and the earth beneath your boots, and suddenly, the silence was too loud again.

“I was eight,” you said suddenly, not even realizing you were speaking until Jungkook glanced sideways at you. “The day I decided to study bugs.”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “We were on a camping trip. My dad caught me screaming over this beetle on my sleeping bag. It was huge—I mean massive. Orange and black. I cried like a baby. But he just picked it up and let it crawl on his hand. Told me it couldn’t hurt me, and it was just... exploring.”

Jungkook made a soft sound. “Your dad sounds cool.”

You smiled faintly, still watching the dirt path. “He was. He told me that being afraid of little things would make the big things scarier. So I held the beetle. It tickled. Didn’t cry after that.”

There was a beat of silence, warm and quiet.

“Guess that explains why you didn’t flinch when that tarantula crawled onto your leg last week,” Jungkook muttered.

You laughed, soft and genuine this time. “I flinched. I just flinched internally.”

He grinned. “You’re the only person I know who would rather be lost in the jungle than in a room full of people.”

You met his eyes briefly and gave a half-shrug. “People are harder to read than bugs.”

Jungkook hummed at that. He didn’t argue. Just walked a little closer to you—close enough that your shoulders brushed now and then. The tension hadn’t vanished completely, but it had shifted again—into something quieter, a little heavier, and a lot harder to ignore.

The jungle felt endless—green stacked on green, the canopy dripping with filtered sunlight. You pushed aside another low branch, sweat beading at your hairline, and tried to ignore how your shirt clung damp to your skin.

“Hold on,” Jungkook said suddenly, catching your wrist before you walked straight into a patch of thorns. His grip was firm, almost protective, and when you glanced back at him, his eyes darted away like he hadn’t meant to touch you for that long.

“Thanks,” you murmured, pulling free gently.

Little things like that kept happening—his palm at the small of your back as you crossed a slippery patch, the way his shoulder brushed yours when the trail narrowed, how he offered you his canteen before even thinking about drinking from it himself. You tried not to read into it, but each moment left your stomach tighter, your breath a little shallower.

A flash of movement on the bark of a massive ceiba tree—bold orange streaks patterned against black. Your pulse jumped.

“Jungkook, look!” you whispered, dropping to your knees with practiced ease. It was a Harlequin Beetle, rare to see in the open during the day. Its body was striking, almost painted, and the male’s impossibly long forelegs looked like something out of science fiction.

Both of you crouched, shoulders pressed together, as you carefully guided the beetle into a specimen vial. His breath was hot against your cheek as he leaned closer to get a better look, and you had to force yourself to focus on the insect instead of the way his thigh pressed into yours.

“Damn,” Jungkook breathed. “This is—this is huge. Everyone else is going to lose their minds.”

You smiled, proud. “We’re definitely ahead now.”

But then his shoulders dropped, like some part of him gave in. He let out a slow breath, eyes flicking to the canopy above. “You know why I started studying bugs?”

The question caught you off guard. You shook your head. “No. You never told me.”

He gave a small, humorless laugh. “Most people think it’s because I liked catching them as a kid. Which… yeah, I did. But the truth is—” He stopped, chewing his lip before continuing. “I just liked how small they were. How overlooked. I felt like that most of my life, you know? Quiet. Easy to ignore. Bugs don’t need to be loud or obvious to matter. They just… do what they’re meant to. And half the time, they’re more important than the things people actually notice.”

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his tone. Jungkook rarely said things like this, and when he did, it was always sideways, half-hidden under a joke. But not now. Now he looked almost raw, his fingers worrying at the strap of his pack.

“I thought maybe if I studied them,” he added softly, “I could figure out where I belonged too.”

For a long moment, you just watched him—his lowered lashes, the set of his mouth, the vulnerability he probably wished he could stuff back down.

For a long moment, you just watched him—his lowered lashes, the set of his mouth, the vulnerability he probably wished he could stuff back down.

“Jungkook,” you said quietly, “you belong more than you think.”

His eyes lifted, catching yours, and for a heartbeat the jungle went silent around you.

Then, almost abruptly, he stood. He cleared his throat, brushing the dirt from his hands like he could shake off the weight of what he’d just said. Without meeting your gaze, he nodded toward your pack.

“Let’s, uh—let’s get that beetle stored properly before it overheats,” he muttered. “We should keep moving if we want to make it back before dark.”

You watched as he carefully secured the vial inside his specimen case, movements precise, almost reverent. He lingered for just a second too long before slinging his pack onto his shoulders again.

When he finally glanced down at you, his face was composed, but there was still a shadow of the boy who’d confessed more than he probably meant to.

“Ready?” he asked.

You swallowed, nodded, and rose to your feet. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

So you fell into step again, the unspoken words trailing behind you like a third presence in the humid air.

You’d barely walked another half hour before voices broke through the dense hum of cicadas. Relief hit like cool water when two figures emerged from the foliage—classmates from the trip, both balancing specimen nets and field packs.

“Along the water, maybe?” one said to the other before spotting the two of you looking drained and defeated.

The decision was immediate—you and Jungkook fell in with them, the four of you moving together along the winding path. They had their compasses, their maps, their calm sense of direction. And neither of you was ready to head back to the hotel empty-handed, so it worked out to stick with them for now.

Jungkook ended up walking ahead with Marisol, their voices low as they compared notes on habitat zones. You hung back with the other girl, Eliza, who wasn’t so much interested in insects as she was in people.

“So,” she said, nudging your arm as you carefully avoided a tangle of vines. “What happened? Why were you two wandering off-track like that?”

You hesitated, tightening your grip on your pack straps. “Our GPS glitched, then the compass went missing. Total disaster. But we’re fine now.”

“Mm,” she hummed, not sounding particularly convinced. Then she gave you a sly sideways look. “What about the weird tension?”

You blinked. “What tension?”

Her grin widened. “The way he looks at you. The way you look back. Have you two hooked up yet?”

You nearly tripped over a root. Heat rushed to your face so fast it made you dizzy. “Wh—no! What? That’s… no.”

But the question echoed in your own mind, loud and unsettling. Had you? No. Did you want to?

The thought alone made your stomach flip. You and Jungkook had known each other long enough to be natural together, sure. Perfect in some ways, even. But also messy, complicated, a contradiction that made no sense when you tried to name it.

Still, Eliza’s knowing smirk lingered in your periphery, and you hated how badly it rattled you.

Eliza’s smirk didn’t fade, even after you stammered out your denial. She just hummed like she already knew better and skipped a step ahead, leaving you scrambling to collect your thoughts.

A twig cracked ahead of you. When you looked up, Jungkook’s shoulders were tense, head tilted just slightly—like he’d caught the last few words. Your stomach dropped, but he didn’t turn around. Didn’t say a thing. Just kept pace with Marisol, voice low as they discussed soil composition.

You swallowed hard, pretending you hadn’t noticed.

The four of you fell into work not long after, the chatter shifting toward more practical things. Marisol was quick to point out specimens you’d missed earlier—leafcutter ants carving highways through the underbrush, a flash of blue when a morpho butterfly darted past. Jungkook’s excitement lit up every time he got close enough to document something, his laugh carrying through the trees when a grasshopper nearly leapt onto his face.

With their help, your packs slowly began to fill with pinned finds and careful samples. Eliza was surprisingly good at spotting movement in the brush, and Marisol’s steady hand with the nets kept you from fumbling every catch. It was easier to breathe when you were all crouched together, comparing notes, wiping sweat from your brows.

For a while, it was almost like the earlier tension had evaporated into the humid air. Almost.

Every now and then, you caught Jungkook glancing over his shoulder—not at the trees, not at the undergrowth. At you. And each time, your pulse jumped, your mind circling back to Eliza’s question like a moth to a flame.

By the time the four of you made it back to the hotel, the sun had already dipped low, painting the walls of the lobby with heavy shadows. Sweat still clung to the back of your neck, the straps of your pack digging deep, but relief made your limbs feel lighter.

Eliza and Marisol waved their goodbyes at the elevators, peeling off toward their room with promises to compare notes after dinner. That left just you and Jungkook, the silence between you still thick enough to taste.

The hallway stretched ahead, carpet muffling your footsteps. You tried not to fidget with the strap of your bag, tried not to glance at him out of the corner of your eye, but the tension was there—an electric hum between two magnets too stubborn to either pull close or push away.

And then you saw it.

Right outside your door, sitting neat as anything, was your GPS.

You stopped dead, staring down at the small device like it was mocking you. Jungkook nearly ran into you before following your gaze. For a second the two of you just blinked at it—then laughter burst out of both your chests, sharp and unrestrained, the kind that came when you’d been wound too tight for too long.

“Unbelievable,” you managed, doubling over with your pack still on. “All that panic—”

“—and it was right here the whole time.” Jungkook shook his head, grinning so hard his dimple showed.

Still chuckling, you swiped the GPS off the floor, unlocked the door, and pushed inside. The cool air of the room swept over you, tugging the tension down another notch—until your eyes landed on the small silver circle resting on the carpet near the foot of the bed.

Your compass.

Exactly where you’d struggled with your shoes this morning.

Jungkook spotted it the same moment you did, his grin faltering into something softer, sheepish. You let out a groan, covering your face with both hands.

“We’re idiots,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly, though there was a hint of laughter still in his voice. “But at least we’re idiots together.”

And just like that, the tension shifted—still there, but less like a storm waiting to break and more like a spark hovering in the air, waiting for the right moment to catch.

You dropped your pack by the desk and crouched to unzip it, already sorting through notebooks, specimen jars, and your still half-eaten breakfast tucked into a napkin. “I’ll start unpacking,” you said, waving vaguely toward the bathroom. “You should shower first before you collapse.”

Jungkook slung his bag onto the other bed, tugging out a clean shirt and sweatpants. He gave you a tired grin, eyes rimmed red from the sun and hours of focus. “Deal. But only if you promise not to eat my share of the snacks while I’m in there.”

You huffed a laugh, pulling out one of your field notebooks. “No promises.”

As he gathered his things, you both fell into the kind of easy conversation that came when neither of you had the energy to think too hard.

“So… dinner downstairs? The hotel restaurant probably has more options than room service,” you suggested, trying to sound chipper even as your jaw cracked with a yawn.

He paused, clutching his towel over his shoulder. “Actually, I saw this cool little place a few streets over yesterday, when we were driving in. Looked local—authentic. Could be worth checking out.”

You groaned, letting your head drop forward into your hands. “Wait, don’t we have to go to the bank to convert more money first?”

Jungkook tilted his head, already halfway toward the bathroom. “Yeah… probably.”

There was a long, tired pause. You let out a sigh that carried the weight of the entire jungle, the sweat, the panic over the GPS. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t have the energy to find a bank, or walk three streets, or smile politely at strangers while I fumble with cash. I’m literally too tired to talk to anyone.”

Your voice cracked into a laugh at the end, tired and resigned all at once. Jungkook’s chuckle answered from across the room, soft and warm.

“Room service it is. I don’t mind a boring dinner on the first night,” he said, disappearing into the bathroom. “Wake me up if I fall asleep in the shower.”

You snorted, shaking your head as the door clicked shut behind him, the sound of running water filling the room.

By the time you’d finished unpacking, Jungkook had claimed the bathroom. The sound of water against tile carried through the walls, and every now and then you caught yourself glancing toward the door, imagining the steam building up inside. You shook it off, tucking your last specimen jar onto the desk and stretching out your arms until your shoulders popped.

A few minutes later, the door swung open with a hiss of steam. Jungkook stepped out, shirtless, skin still damp and catching the lamplight. His hair clung in dark strands against his forehead, and his face was hidden beneath a smooth, glossy sheet mask.

“Your turn,” he said, padding barefoot across the carpet. His voice was muffled by the mask, playful but casual, as though this wasn’t the most disarming sight you’d ever witnessed. In his hand, he held out another packet. “I brought extras. Wanna do one too?”

You blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then, forcing your throat to cooperate, you managed, “Uh—yeah. Sure.” The word snagged in your mouth, your stutter obvious even to your own ears. You took the packet quickly, nodding like it was no big deal, before retreating into the bathroom with your shower bag.

The hot water did little to quiet the buzz in your chest.

When you came back out, hair damp and your own mask cooling your skin, Jungkook was already sitting cross-legged on one of the beds. He patted the empty space in front of him, where he’d spread the dinner menu out like it was a deck of cards.

“Come on. Help me decide before I just give up and order three desserts,” he teased, his words peeking out from under the sheet mask.

You settled down opposite him, crossing your legs so your knees brushed against the edge of the menu. Together you leaned forward, reading through the list of options.

“Okay, so… chicken sandwich?” you said, tapping it with your finger. “Kinda basic. But maybe basic is good—it might feel a little less like we’re a million miles away from home.”

“Or…” Jungkook tapped at the pasta, eyes crinkling in mischief beneath the mask, “we embrace the chaos and pretend hotel spaghetti counts as an authentic cultural experience.”

You snorted. “Pretty sure that’s the opposite of authentic.”

The banter settled into something light, easy. A rhythm you didn’t have to think about, even though you were hyper-aware of how close you sat to him, of the faint eucalyptus scent wafting from his mask.

When the timer on his phone chimed, you both reached up at the same time, peeling the masks from your faces in unison.

“Wow,” you sighed, pressing your fingertips into your cheeks. “That felt amazing. My skin hasn’t breathed like this since we got here.”

“Told you,” he said proudly, wadding the used mask into a napkin. “This brand is legit. My skin would’ve mutinied by now without it.” He tilted his head, studying your face with an intensity that made your pulse skip. “Looks good on you.”

You ducked your gaze quickly, pretending to re-read the menu. “Yeah, well… good on both of us.”

The moment lingered, warm and quiet, before he finally picked up the hotel phone. “Alright,” he said, voice casual, but softer than before. “Let’s make it official. Room service for two.”

His knuckles brushed the edge of the menu while he dialed, and you found yourself watching him—watching the curve of his mouth, the damp shine of his hair, the casual way he made the mundane suddenly feel like something more.

Dinner arrived on a rolling tray, the knock at the door startling you both out of the haze you’d slipped into while waiting. Jungkook carried the plates to the bed, and you settled onto the floor beside him, your plate balanced on the edge of the mattress.

It felt strangely natural—him above, you below, both leaning toward the food and toward each other. Your voices fell soft in the small space, the kind of hush reserved for the quiet hours of night.

“So,” you said between bites, “what made you decide to study insects anyway? I know why you love them but why are you making them your life? Was it the thrill of watching tiny creatures crawl around, or…?”

He smirked, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Nah. I always liked being outside. I hated sitting still as a kid. Bugs were just… everywhere. And no one else wanted to look at them for long, so I got to feel like I was discovering something.”

You grinned, nodding. “That makes sense. I was the opposite. I was the kid with thick glasses, reading bug encyclopedias instead of going outside. Total nerd.”

He chuckled, tilting his plate toward you. “A nerd who still beat me for the top spot in class.”

“Barely,” you shot back, playful but sheepish. Then, after a pause, you added quietly, “I was bullied a lot for it. For being too curious. Too different. Studying bugs didn’t exactly earn me popularity points.”

Something in Jungkook’s face softened. He leaned down, fork spearing a bite from his plate and holding it out toward you. “Guess the nerds win in the end.”

You rolled your eyes, but leaned forward, letting him feed you. The taste of his dish lingered sweet and tangy on your tongue. Without thinking, you cut a piece from your own plate and offered it up to him. His lips brushed the fork, and for one too-long second, you were caught watching them.

The conversation drifted, the food dwindled, until Jungkook leaned back against the headboard with a little sigh. “You know what’s funny?” he said, voice almost hesitant. “I was popular in school. Always had people around me. But I never dated anyone.”

Your brows lifted. “Never?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t feel right. Didn’t want to… waste time on something that didn’t mean anything.”

You swallowed, the words settling heavy in your chest. “That’s the opposite of me. I dated, but… only assholes. Like I was trying to prove I deserved worse than I wanted.”

Dinner was nearly done, plates balanced carelessly on the edge of the bed between you. You were picking at the last few bites of rice when Jungkook’s voice cut in, low and curious.

“Hey—don’t move.”

Your fork froze midair. “What?”

He tilted his chin, eyes glinting with something between mischief and fascination. “Spider. Right here.” He angled his shoulder toward you, where a tiny spider had spun down on a thread, dangling just above his collarbone.

You leaned closer automatically, the scientist in you sparking. “That’s… actually a Salticidae. Jumping spider,” you murmured, surprised at how steady your voice sounded when your heart was suddenly beating so fast.

“Cute little thing, huh?” Jungkook’s smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he held still, watching the spider inch closer to his jaw. “Almost looks like it’s inspecting me.”

You laughed under your breath, crawling onto your knees to get a better look. The bed dipped as you placed a hand on the mattress for balance, your face now just inches from his. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not impressed.”

He smirked. “Neither are you, apparently.”

You ignored that, focusing instead on gently coaxing the spider onto your fingertip before letting it crawl down to the carpet, free to wander.

When you looked back up, Jungkook’s eyes were already waiting for you. Close. Too close.

The air shifted—still, charged. His smirk softened, and in the quiet, you realized you were hovering over him, your knees pressed into the mattress, your body angled toward his.

Neither of you said a word.

Slowly, drawn as if by gravity, you crawled higher, your palms pressing into the sheets on either side of his thighs. His breath mingled with yours, warm and steady, and then you were kissing him—tentative at first, lips brushing lips, before he leaned up into you.

His hands found your waist, then slid beneath your shirt, fingers gliding against your bare back with a kind of reverence. The touch made you shiver, your body pressing closer as you shifted fully into his lap, straddling him.

The kiss deepened, slow and molten, the taste of him still laced with the faint salt of dinner, the scent of soap lingering from his shower. Your chest brushed against his as he tilted his head, guiding you into something hungrier, something that had clearly been waiting to break loose.

When you finally pulled back, foreheads pressed together, you were both breathing hard, the forgotten plates cooling on the floor. His thumbs traced the dip of your spine as though he needed the anchor, as though letting go of you wasn’t an option.

His thumb lingered at the corner of your mouth, tracing the shape of your lip as though memorizing it. Both of you were still breathing hard, lungs trying to catch up with the heat that had overtaken the room. You stared into his eyes, searching, but his gaze refused to leave your lips—dark, intent, as if he couldn’t look anywhere else.

Slowly, he pressed his thumb past your parted lips, the pad resting on your tongue. You froze for only a heartbeat, instinct taking over as your mouth closed around him. The faint taste of salt, the warmth of his skin, made the moment headier than you expected. His breath hitched, shallow and ragged, chest rising against yours as your tongue brushed against his fingertip.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, low and broken, his lips curving like he couldn’t believe you were doing this. He pulled his thumb free just enough to drag it across your bottom lip, smearing spit along the curve before pushing it back in, slower this time, watching the way your mouth yielded to him.

You sucked without thinking, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on his. The air between you thickened until it felt impossible to breathe. He finally tugged his thumb free, glistening, and dragged it down your chin before curling his hand around the back of your neck.

“Come here,” he whispered, voice husky, tugging you back into another kiss.

This one wasn’t tentative—it was urgent, mouths crashing, teeth clashing, tongues sliding hot and messy. You clutched at his shoulders as his hands slid up your bare back again, palms flat, keeping you pressed tight against him while your hips ground down against his lap.

The kiss deepened until you forgot about the food cooling on the floor, the soft clatter of plates barely registering when your hand slipped and knocked one askew. All that existed was him—his mouth, hot and insistent against yours, his hands sliding over every inch of your skin like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch first.

Your knees pressed tighter into the mattress as you shifted higher in his lap, straddling him fully, chest to chest. His breath shuddered when you rolled your hips, the hard press of him beneath his sweats undeniable now. He broke from your mouth just long enough to groan, forehead pressed to yours, lips dragging over the edge of your jaw as though he needed to taste more.

Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt, tugging at the fabric until you felt the heat of his skin underneath. He laughed—quiet, strangled—when you mouthed at the line of his throat, his fingers gripping your hips tighter, urging you to move again.

“Fuck—” he hissed when you did, slow and deliberate, dragging your core against him. His grip shifted, one hand cupping the back of your neck again, the other skimming up under your shirt to trace the line of your spine.

When your kisses softened—gentle brushes over his lips like you were savoring him—he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, blown wide, his voice a low rasp as he muttered, “You don’t have to be so gentle with me.”

The words sent a shiver racing down your spine. Before you could respond, he tugged you back in, teeth grazing your bottom lip, biting just enough to sting before soothing the spot with his tongue. His hands slid down to grab at your ass, pulling you harder against him, making the friction sharper, dirtier.

You gasped into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders now, body instinctively pressing closer, chasing more. The kiss turned messy again, desperate, both of you breathing hard into each other’s mouths as if air only existed between your lips.

Your gasp dissolved into another kiss when he tugged you down harder against him, rolling his hips up at the same time. The friction was maddening—your thin shorts dragging against the hard line of him under his sweats. Both of you groaned into each other’s mouths at the same time, the sound desperate, needy.

You broke away for air, panting, forehead pressed to his as your hips found a rhythm against him. His hands guided you, big palms on your waist sliding lower to grip the curve of your ass, fingers digging in just enough to make you whimper.

“Like that,” he muttered, jaw tight, his head tipping back when you rocked down harder. The muscles in his neck strained, and for a moment you couldn’t help but kiss along his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling his pulse race under your lips.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you breathed, words tumbling out before you could catch them. His answering groan was guttural, his hips jerking up into you with more force.

The slow drag turned messy, frantic—your body chasing relief, his meeting you with the same urgency. The air was thick with the sound of your breathing, your muffled moans breaking every time his cock pressed perfectly against you through the layers of fabric.

He caught your mouth again, messy and wet, tongue tangling with yours while his grip on you tightened. Each grind had you clinging to him harder, your nails raking down his back, your body shuddering with the building heat in your core.

“Don’t stop,” he rasped against your lips, voice breaking with need. His thighs shifted beneath you, bracing, giving you more leverage, urging you to move faster.

You buried your face in his shoulder, biting back a cry as you rode him, every rock of your hips sending sparks through your body. His chest heaved against yours, his hands practically holding you in place as he thrust up to meet you, every movement sharper, hungrier.

The world blurred—just sweat, heat, the press of his body and the dizzy rush of pleasure coiling tighter, tighter—

Your rhythm turned frantic, sloppy, every drag of his cock against your soaked shorts pushing you closer to the edge. He met you thrust for thrust, hips snapping up into yours like he couldn’t get enough, the fabric between you nothing but torture now.

“Jungkook—” you gasped, nails biting into his shoulders, head thrown back as the tension in your belly threatened to snap.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, voice thick, his head burying against your neck. His teeth grazed your skin as his hips bucked up harder, faster. “Don’t hold back—fuck—just let go for me.”

The words wrecked you. You ground down harder, your thighs trembling as the pressure exploded, your orgasm tearing through you. A sharp cry left your throat as your body convulsed against him, clinging desperately to his slick skin.

He cursed low, broken, shoving up into you as he came undone, rutting through his release with his jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut. His grip bruised at your waist as he held you flush against him, riding out every desperate grind until his body finally stilled under yours.

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, your foreheads pressed together, both of you trembling and dazed.

Then his voice came soft, almost reverent, brushing against your lips.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, thumb stroking your cheek. His tone was hoarse but steady, like he meant every syllable. “So fucking perfect. You feel so good… you make me feel so good.”

His eyes searched yours, tender despite the sweat and the mess, his words breaking through the haze and sinking into you like a vow.

You slumped against him, chest still heaving, the sticky warmth between you both proof of what just happened. The reality of it washed over you all at once and you found yourself murmuring, “That was… impulsive.”

Jungkook tilted his head, dark eyes on you, thumb tracing lazy circles along your back. “Maybe,” he admitted softly, “but don’t act like I imagined this.”

You blinked up at him, confused, until he gave a tiny, almost guilty smile.

“I overheard you with Eliza earlier,” he said, voice quiet, almost tentative. “When she asked if we’d hooked up yet. The way you froze? The way you couldn’t answer?” His hand moved up, brushing your hair back gently. “I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling it.”

Your lips parted, embarrassment flooding your face, but he didn’t give you the chance to spiral.

“And I’ve been wondering all day if the tension was just in my head.” His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, tender. “Guess I got my answer.”

You swallowed hard, shifting slightly in his lap, still clinging to a last thread of hesitation. “But what if this makes the rest of the trip awkward?” you whispered.

He huffed a laugh through his nose, leaning his forehead against yours. “The shared bed is awfully convenient, don’t you think?” His lips quirked, teasing but still warm. “Only took us a day.”

That dragged a reluctant laugh from you, soft and quiet. You hadn’t even realized his fingers had found their way into your hair until the gentle tug of them made you lean closer, melting under his touch.

“Hey,” he murmured, eyes soft but steady, voice dipping into something so sure it made your stomach flip. “You don’t have to overthink this. We’re okay. I want this—want you. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

And somehow, the reassurance landed perfectly, wrapping around you like safety itself.

You rest your forehead against his chest, breathing in his scent. It’s quiet apart from the hotel air humming low, and you imagine if you stayed in this moment forever, you almost could.

Then Jungkook shifts, clearing his throat. “I should probably, you know… change,” He teases lightly, voice thick with warmth. “Before this all… dries.” His tone was light, teasing. He straightens, carefully sliding you off his lap. You land on the bed softly, kneeling, watching him—skin still damp, hair dark and slick—from where you sit. He reaches for the bathroom door, pausing just inside the frame, turning back with a look that’s half playful, half something tender. Then he disappears behind the door.

He disappeared into the bathroom, door clicking shut behind him, and the second he was gone, you scrambled for your own bag. The adrenaline still buzzed in your body, but you worked quickly, tugging on an oversized tee and shorts, hesitating just long enough before deciding to leave your bra folded neatly at the bottom of your suitcase.

For the first time since arriving in Belize, your skin felt free, and more importantly—you didn’t feel the need to hide it from him anymore.

The days blurred together after that first night. Every morning started with the two of you brushing past each other in the cramped hotel bathroom, trying not to bump elbows while you traded turns at the sink. Every evening ended the same—plates on the floor, laughter filling the room, and the two of you pressed so close together in bed it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.

You went to the restaurant Jungkook had spotted, the whole group filling tables with food and chatter. Everyone swapped stories about their finds, specimens carefully catalogued, and laughed a little louder after a few drinks. You remember how his hand found yours under the table, how you didn’t pull away.

At night, though, that was yours and his time. Quiet dinners in your room, whispered jokes in the dark, limbs tangled under thin hotel sheets. It wasn’t just the intimacy—it was the comfort. The warmth.

By the time the trip wrapped, the bond felt unshakable.

At the airport bus, everyone dragged their luggage toward the waiting line, voices a little hoarse with exhaustion. Jungkook drifted off with the guys, their laughter echoing from the back of the group, while you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with Eliza.

“I can’t believe it’s already over,” she sighed.

You nodded. “Yeah. Honestly, I was so anxious the first night. Sharing a bed with Jungkook…” you trailed off, feeling your cheeks warm.

Eliza’s head snapped toward you. “Sharing a bed?” she repeated, her brows lifting.

You blinked, confused. “Yeah? We had one bed in our room.”

Her mouth dropped open, then she burst into laughter so sudden it made people turn around. “Y/N—what? We were all supposed to have separate beds!”

Your eyes widened, stomach dropping. “Wait, what?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she gasped through her laughter.

“I just thought everyone had to share beds!” you blurted, mortified, which only made her laugh harder, clutching her stomach.

The bus driver started calling for boarding, and you could still hear Eliza’s giggles echoing as you tried to process the realization.

When the two of you boarded, Jungkook slid into a window seat without hesitation, and you followed, settling beside him. The hum of the bus filled the silence, students already pulling out headphones or leaning against the glass. Jungkook slipped his arm around you like it was second nature, tugging you close until your side fit snug against his.

You hesitated, cheeks warming, before saying softly, “So, apparently… us only having one bed? That was a booking mistake.”

He turned to you, eyes wide for a split second before a grin spread across his face. His laugh rumbled low in his chest, shaking both of you. “A mistake, huh?”

You nodded, embarrassed. “Yeah. Eliza nearly cried laughing when I told her. I thought everyone had to share beds.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently, eyes still sparkling. “Well… I wouldn’t change it. Not one second. Worth every moment.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, heat crawling up your neck. You let out a small, nervous laugh, lowering your gaze to your hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

But your smile gave you away.

As the bus lurched into motion, the exhaustion of the past days finally caught up. You leaned into him, head resting against his chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand smoothed over your arm, holding you close, safe. Protective.

By the time the highway stretched out behind you, your eyes had already slipped shut, sleep finding you in the warmth of his embrace.

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