Residuals PART 1 | JJK
"he held her first everything, and became her quietest goodbye."
pairing: jungkook x female reader
genre: childhood best friends, lovers to enemies to strangers, fratboy!jungkook, heartbreak, uni!au
word count: 12.2k
content warning: angst, mild smut, mild languages
summary: jungkook used to be your everything. your best friend, your first love. but you both grew up and grew apart. heβs now the campus heartbreaker, a cocky frat boy who runs with the worst crowd. when a cruel dare asks him to destroy you just for the fun of it. everything shatters. trust. hearts. and maybe the chance to ever put it back together.
author's note: hi hello heyyyy everyone! wow, iβm honestly amazed by how much you all loved the prologue i really didnβt expect such amazing reactions! the taglist is still open, so if youβd like to be notified when future parts go up, just let me know :) iβve proofread this like a million times (and iβm probably going to read it over again). my writing isnβt perfect, but iβve given it my best shot. i really hope you all enjoy it! <3
Β© disclaimer: please do not copy, translate or reproduce any part of this work without my permission. thank you!
π·οΈ taglist: @whoa-jo / @username23345 / @kelsyx33 / @toosweetforyall / @junniesoleilkth / @literallyjimin / @jeeykey / @stars4kooo / @delulutofr / @smoljimjim / @elithenium / @mysoulherofriend / @ukndtwme / @nikkiordonez12
You didnβt see Jungkook for days after that night. Maybe it was weeks but the exact stretch of time blurred together, swallowed up by the routines and noise of university life. His absence was loud, the kind of silence that echoes louder than any shout.
Whispers reached you, fragments carried on the edges of campus chatter. Stories of him slipping further into the frat scene, like he was sinking into quicksand and just letting it pull him under.
Rumors spread about the parties he showed up at. The kind of wild, reckless nights where faces blurred and memories faded by morning. Girls said he was charming, magnetic even, but a ghost when it came to texting back. One night stands, fleeting moments, nothing real, nothing that lasted beyond a sunrise or a hangover.
He wasnβt just part of the crowd anymore. He was the crowd. The center of it, like a king in a castle built on noise and neon lights.
And you? You kept your head down, burying yourself in lectures, drowning yourself in coffee and energy drinks, and nights of textbooks and assignment deadlines. Your hands shook a little when you tried to type on your keyboard, not from exhaustion but from the ache in your chest you couldnβt quite explain.
You pretended your heart hadnβt been dragged across glass. Pretended the sharp edges didnβt still scrape at your skin every time his name slipped into a conversation or a memory.
Sometimes, when the library was empty and the world outside faded to a dull hum, you let yourself think about what you lost, or what you thought you had. But then youβd shut those thoughts down before they could consume you, forcing your focus back to the pages in front of you, your lit up screen and the plans for your future.
Because that was easier than facing the truth.
Just as you were finally forcing your mind back into the case study, the quiet was shattered by the familiar sound of laughter and voices outside your dorm room. Before you could even look up, the door swung open.
Hana burst in, her bright smile lighting up the room, followed by a couple of your other uni friends, Mina and Jess. They dropped their bags by the door, eyes instantly locking onto your face.
βHey, you okay?β Hana asked, dropping onto the edge of your bed, her voice softer now but still urgent. βSeriously, weβve been worried."
You tried to muster a smile but it came out more like a grimace.
Mina crossed her arms, eyes sharp. βAnd donβt even bother with that asshole. Heβs not worth a single second of your time.β
Jess nodded fiercely, βHonestly, if a guy treats you like that. Heβs a fucking idiot. You deserve way better.β
You felt the sting of their words but also the warmth. It was nice, for once, to have people who saw through the bullshit and had your back without question.
βYeah,β you said, voice a little raw but steadying, βI know. Iβm done wasting time on someone who canβt even show up when it counts.β
Hana reached over and squeezed your hand. βGood. Because thereβs so much more out there for you. Donβt let him mess with your head.β
You nodded, feeling a flicker of strength return. Maybe it was the caffeine, maybe the company, but whatever it was, you were starting to believe that maybe, you could just move on.
The frat house buzzed with heat, music, and too much alcohol. Bottles clinked together, laughter bounced off walls, and someone had already spilled beer on the carpet. No one cared.
It was the unofficial post-midterms blowout. Two weeks of freedom ahead, meant for studying, naturally, but more often used for making questionable choices and pretending the start of the new term was a lifetime away.
Jungkook sat on the couch, half-draped with a girl whose name he hadnβt bothered to remember. She mightβve told him, but it hadnβt felt important. Just someone heβd flirted with earlier when Taehyung had dragged them over to where the nursing students usually hung out. Now, she was tracing lazy patterns on his thigh, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered something he didnβt catch. His mind was elsewhere. Or maybe nowhere at all.
Namjoon clapped his hands from the center of the room, drawing attention like a magnet. βAlright, listen up. Truth or Dare time.β
A loud cheer erupted. Within seconds, a circle formed. People stumbling over each other, red solo cups in hand, their eyes already gleaming with tipsy anticipation.
The bottle spun. Two rounds of tame truths and half-hearted dares, the usual kiss the person to your left, take two shots, confess your crush.
Then the bottle landed on him.
βJungkook,β Taehyung drawled with a smirk, raising his shot glass in mock salute. βTruth or dare?β
Jungkook leaned forward, tongue tapping against his cheek, dark eyes flashing.
βDare.β
A chorus of oohs followed. The girl beside him giggled, her fingers now trailing up his chest.
Namjoon didnβt skip a beat. βAlright. I dare you to make a girl fall in love with you over this semester break.β
Jungkook raised a brow. βThatβs it?β
Namjoonβs grin stretched wider, all teeth and something colder behind his eyes. βMake her fall for you. Sleep with her. Then break her heart.β
The room stilled.
Jimin frowned from across the circle. βThatβs seriously fucked up."
βIs it?β Namjoon shrugged. βItβs uni. Classes by day, chaos by night. Girls know the game. Parties, hook-ups, heartbreak. Itβs practically on the syllabus.β
The room went quiet for a beat.
"Itβs a challenge," Namjoon corrected. "A full-on charm test, baby. But hey, if anyone thinks theyβve got more game, step up. Nail it, and youβll get bragging rights... and drinks on us for the rest of the year. If you can, that is.
Hoseok laughed, head tipping back. "Alright then, Kook. If you're gonna pass. I'll take it... I'll be choosing Y/n."
That name dropped like a lead weight.
Jungkook froze, jaw tightening. No way he was going to make you part of this so called dare. "Don't you fucking dare."
βWhat?β Hoseok said, grinning. βSheβs perfect for this. Bet she still thinks youβre the same guy who walked her home every day after school.β
Namjoon raised an eyebrow. βHmm. Sounds personal.β
βUsed to be,β Jungkook muttered, taking a long drink.
Taehyung chuckled. βSo whatβs the problem then? If anything, youβve got a head start. You already know what makes her tick.β
"Plus, donβt you guys live right next to each other?" Seokjin, who wasnβt much of a drinker and didnβt really roll with the guys, piped up.
Jungkook didnβt answer.
Didnβt move. Didnβt throw a punch. Didnβt walk out. Justβ¦ sat there, expression unreadable. A storm under calm. Namjoon leaned forward, eyes narrowing. βUnless itβd bother you?β
Jungkook looked up slowly, a half-smile curling at his lips. Hollow and sharp.
βWhy would it?β
He took another drink, shrugging. βThe only thing thatβll bother me is if my parents find out. Theyβd kill me.β
Laughter erupted again.
βThatβs what makes it fun,β someone shouted.
Jungkook didnβt see who said it. He didnβt care.
Heβd already lost the moment to walk away. His ego was too big. His heart and whatever was left of it was locked behind layers he didnβt even understand anymore.
You already thought he was a bastard. So what was one more sin?
If anyone was going to break youβ¦
Jungkook made damn sure it was going to be him.
The dare had been set.
Laughter slowly faded into the background noise as the party began winding down. The music was still playing. A little slower now, a little more muted. Half of the people had already disappeared into Ubers or stumbled upstairs in pairs. The floor was sticky with spilled liquor, and the smell of smoke clung to the curtains.
Namjoon tossed empty cups into a trash bag, yelling half-heartedly for everyone to get out.
"Party's over, people! Go ruin your livers somewhere else! But most importantly enjoy your fucking uni break."
Taehyung was sprawled across the couch arm, drunk-texting God knows who. Jimin leaned against the wall, sipping water, a brow raised as he watched Jungkook.
Jungkook ignored the looks. He had the same girl draped over his side again, maybe her name was Bora. Didnβt matter to him. He didnβt really give a fuck.
Her lipstick was smudged, pupils dilated. She pressed against him like they were already halfway to something dangerous.
βYour room?β she whispered, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.
βIβve been waiting all night.β
He didnβt answer. Just nodded once, mechanically, and led her up the stairs.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
It was dimly lit, the warm glow from the desk lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. For a frat boy, it wasnβt what most people would expect. Not entirely, anyway. The space was surprisingly organized. His desk was cluttered with film cameras, old rolls of undeveloped film, a half-charged laptop still open on an assignment, and a stack of books that looked more read than decorative.
But the closet told a different story. Clothes crammed in, some half-folded, some forgotten. Drawers slightly ajar, shoes piled in the corner. He sighed internally, rubbing a hand across his jaw.
Fuck, I really need to start packing, he thought absently.
Behind him, the girl closed the door, letting her jacket slip off her shoulders. She crossed the room without hesitation, fingers already sliding up the hem of his shirt.
But Jungkook wasnβt really there.
He stood near the bed, still, watching her or maybe watching himself. Like an outsider peering into someone elseβs life.
Thatβs when his eyes flicked to his bookshelf across the room.
Second shelf, far right. Tucked inside a worn copy of the Little Prince, a photo peeked out like a forgotten bookmark. Faded from time and touch, the edges curled slightly. It was of you and him, probably no older than fourteen. His mum had captured the moment. You were both grinning, ice cream melting down your fingers, sunlight catching in your hair. He had kept it hidden for years. Sometimes he told himself it was nothing. But he never once took it out.
Bora kissed him then, pulling him back into the moment. Her hands on his chest, her mouth moving fast, desperate and practiced.
Jungkook didnβt kiss her back.
He let it happen for a second. Let her think he was game. Let her think she was winning.
But when her hand dipped lower and started fiddling with his belt, his voice came out hard.
βStop.β
She froze, lips grazing his jaw. βWhat?β
He stepped back, eyes cold. βI said, fucking stop.β
Confused, she blinked at him. βSeriously?β
βIβm not doing this,β he muttered.
βYou brought me up here for what then?β she scoffed, grabbing her jacket.
He didnβt answer.
βWhatever,β she hissed, storming past him and slamming the door behind her.
Silence fell again.
Jungkook exhaled and crossed the room, pulling the book off the shelf. The photo slipped out, landing in his palm.
There you were, frozen in time. Before everything got messy. Before he turned into someone even he didnβt recognize.
He brushed his thumb over your smile and sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.
How the hell did he let it get this far?
This wasnβt him or at least, not who he used to be. Not the boy who used to sneak snacks into your window during sleepovers, or carry your backpack when it was too heavy, or make you playlists when you had a bad day.
He had made a promise, to your parents and his own. That heβd always look out for you.
And now he was here. Planning to ruin you. For what?
Some twisted game? Ego?
Jungkook let out a bitter laugh and leaned back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by your face in his mind. Your smile. The way your nose scrunched when you were deep in thought. The sound of your laugh echoing through his memory.
Jungkookβs mind drifts back to that night. The night you confronted him, asking what had happened to him. The way he brushed off those memories like they were nothing, like you were nothing. He acted like the years they shared, the bond you once had, didnβt mean a damn thing.
And then, almost as if running from himself, he found himself tangled up with some girl heβd barely noticed before. Someone one of the guys had mentioned at the party. That night wasnβt supposed to end like that. It wasnβt meant to be a reckless escape or a way to numb the ache heβd caused you. But there he was, using someone elseβs warmth to bury his shame, trying to erase the guilt he felt.
Cowardly.
And now, this dare wasnβt just a game anymore.
It was a storm heβd just agreed to walk right intoβ¦
And the worst part? You were the one whoβd get soaked in the rain.
The next morning, one by one, people trickled out with backpacks slung over shoulders, hugging their friends goodbye before heading home for the break.
Jungkook leaned against the doorframe, watching it all unfold. His duffel bag sat by the couch, packed but forgotten. He raised a hand in farewell as Taehyung and Hoseok piled into someoneβs beat-up car, Jimin tossing him a lazy salute before following.
Namjoon, finishing the last of his coffee, clapped a hand to Jungkookβs shoulder. βDonβt forget the dare, Kook. Two weeks.β He grinned.
Jungkook gave a half-smirk, the kind that didnβt quite meet his eyes. βYeah. I remember.β
But truth was, he couldnβt wait to get out of this fraternity that he's been living in. He missed home. Missed familiarity. Missed something that wasnβt drenched in cheap beer, fake flirting, and expectations.
Just as he was about to call for a ride, his phone buzzed.
Dad: Donβt worry about finding a lift. Iβll come grab you. Weβre picking up Y/n too. Your mothers have planned some big feast. Make sure you guys don't leave me waiting.
Jungkook stared at the message.
You.
Of course you were going home too. Of course the two families had planned something.
Like the two of you were still joined at the hip. His chest ached with something he didnβt want to name.
He texted back a short βokayβ and ran a hand through his hair.
Jungkook let out a slow, steady exhale as he slung his own bag over his shoulder. Being the last to leave, he made sure to lock up behind him before stepping out into the quiet evening. The walk to campus wasnβt far. Close enough to count the steps yet every inch felt heavier than the last. It had been far too long since heβd seen you, and the thought of facing you again stirred a knot of tension deep inside.
As he approached the front gates, his eyes immediately found you. You stood there, two bags in hand, waiting patiently. Jungkookβs lips twitched in a faint, almost involuntary smile. Heβd never forgotten how you always overpacked, insisting on bringing βjust in caseβ everything. It was a small, familiar detail that softened the moment, even as the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow around you, making you look breathtaking. You always had that effortless beauty, but right now, illuminated like that, it was almost too much to bear. Fuck, Jungkook cursed silently, scolding himself for thinking it.
He took a few careful steps forward, keeping a distance that was neither too close nor too far. Your eyes lifted from your phone just as he drew near, and the silence between you stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken words.
Jungkook swallowed, then decided to be the one to break the ice. βSoβ¦ are you excited to head back home?β His voice was softer than expected. Tinged with a warmth and care you hadnβt heard in a while. You looked up, surprised by the gentleness, almost like the Jungkook you once knew was trying to break through the distance.
He was about to say more, to reach out beyond the silence, when the sudden sound of a car pulling up cut through the moment. His dadβs voice called out, and just like that, the fragile thread between you snapped.
The break had barely begun, yet it was already testing him in ways he hadnβt anticipated.
And you? You had no idea what was about to come.
You heard the car pull up before you even saw it, the sudden crunch of tires on gravel cutting through the quiet between you and Jungkook. The sound caught you off guard, stealing away the moment, and with it, your chance to respond.
Mr. Jeon stepped out from the driverβs side, his presence steady and grounding as always. He gave a cheerful wave as he moved to toss Jungkookβs bag into the trunk, then turned to greet you with that familiar warmth. The kind that made you feel like you were still the little kid who used to tag along with Jungkook everywhere.
Before Jungkook could say a word, his dad pulled him into a firm, heartfelt hug. One that spoke of quiet pride, unspoken support, and the deep bond between father and son. The embrace was comforting, like a shield against the weight of the world, reminding Jungkook that no matter what, some things stayed constant.
You slipped into the front seat quickly, earbuds in, eyes trained on your phone. Not because you were texting anyone, but because it was easier to pretend you were. You didnβt want to look up. You didnβt want to see him.
But you felt him the moment he opened the back door. The air shifted. The seat shifted. He used to call shotgun every time. No matter what.
You never had to ask for it before.
But now?
Now, he let you have it. And that felt like a bigger deal than you wanted it to.
The drive started, slow and familiar. Mr. Jeon chatted away about dinner plans and how excited your moms were. You responded politely, nodded where you should, even cracked a smile at the bit about your little brother refusing to do the groceries unless Jungkook came with him.
You didnβt turn around. Didnβt look at him. But you knew.
You knew he was watching you.
Out of the corner of your eye, in the side mirror. There he was, slouched back in the seat, hoodie drawn up but not enough to hide his stare. You didnβt know what pissed you off more. The fact that he kept looking at you, or the part of you that kept wondering if he missed you.
You hated how quiet he was now.
How calm.
How the boy who used to tap your shoulder to share dumb thoughts every five minutes was now silent. Like he didnβt deserve to speak to you. Maybe he didnβt.
Not after that night, he made you feel like you didn't mean anything to him anymore.
At the next red light, his dad asked, βYou two doing alright?β
You gave a neutral βyeah,β not turning.
Jungkookβs voice followed a beat later. βFine.β
You closed your eyes. Liar.
The trees passed by. The sun warmed your skin. You shouldβve felt relaxed, going home. You shouldβve felt lighter. But instead, the weight of him just pressed harder into your chest.
Because heβd let you go.
Heβd chosen to become someone you barely recognized. And no matter how close you sat in this car, he felt like a stranger all over again.
The moment Mr. Jeon turned the corner onto your quiet street, your heart clenched.
There it was. Your house, and right beside it, the Jeon residence. Still the same distance apart. Still sharing the same trimmed hedges and side fence that separated the backyards. Still carrying the same summer breeze that used to drift through your bedroom window when you and Jungkook would whisper to each other past curfew with flashlights and walkie-talkies.
You almost wanted to laugh at how little had changed out here, while everything inside you had.
Mr. Jeon parked in his usual spot, right between both houses. The engine cut. You reached for your duffel just as the front doors opened.
βY/n!β your mum beamed from your porch, stepping out with open arms. Jungkookβs mum was right behind her, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, still in her cozy floral apron.
You stepped out of the car, nodding politely as Jungkook opened the door behind you. He let you pass first. You didnβt thank him. Not this time.
βLook at you two!β Jungkookβs mum said, pulling you into a hug while your mum fussed over your hair. βBack from uni and thinner than ever. Are you eating? Youβve been studying too hard, havenβt you?β
You smiled, playing the part. βJust trying to survive midterms.β
Jungkookβs mum reached over and gave his cheek a playful pinch, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in. βSo you werenβt joking about the lip piercing?β she huffed. βI thought you were messing with me on the phone.βΒ
Jungkook chuckled, leaning away slightly. βI told you I wasnβt kidding, but you said, βOver my dead body,β and hung up on me.β
She clicked her tongue, her gaze drifting to the tattoos on his arms. βAnd this! do you want to give your poor mother a heart attack?β
Jungkook grinned. βYouβre still alive though, so I think weβre doing okay.β
She shook her head, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. Her tone softened as she glanced toward you. βJust tell me youβve been taking care of Y/n like you promised. Did you help her pack?β
He looked at you for a beat, then back at his mum. βAlways.β
You didnβt even flinch.
Your mother clapped her hands, excited. βWell, letβs not waste any more time. Dinnerβs all ready next door. Come on now, both of you.β
You followed her up the steps to the Jeon house like youβd done hundreds of times as a kid. But everything felt different now. He wasnβt just the boy-next-door anymore. He was the boy who let you down. The one who changed the minute campus swallowed him whole.
The Jeon house smelled like comfort. Grilled meat, garlic, soy, rice. Pretty much your childhood in dinner form. The table was already full, banchan dishes spread like a celebration.
βY/n, sweetheart, sit here,β Jungkookβs mum said, patting the seat beside her. βJungkook, go grab the rice cooker.β
You sat quietly, folding your hands in your lap, while Jungkook passed behind you without a word. His shoulder brushed yours.
Neither of you reacted.
The dinner chatter began. Your mum and his mum swapping stories, catching up like nothing was wrong. You just nodded when spoken to, eating slowly, eyes fixed on your plate.
Across the table, Jungkook watched you. Or maybe he didnβt. You wouldnβt give him the satisfaction of looking up to find out.
Because you both used to walk home together.Β
Used to climb your tree when you couldnβt sleep.
Used to swear heβd never be one of those guys.
And now he was sitting across from you, pretending he still knew how to be close.
"So, two weeks off, huh?" your dad called out from the far end of the table.
Both you and Jungkook nodded, murmuring a quiet "yeah."
"What's the plan?" Jungkook's mum asked, eyes twinkling. "You two going to visit your old spots, or just bury yourselves in assignments all week?"
You forced a small smile. "No and yes... for me at least. I'm hoping to balance it out. I've missed home a lot, so I want to soak it all in before heading back."
Jungkook paused, then reached for another kimbap.
βSame here,β he said eventually. βIβve got a film project to prep over the break, so Iβll be working on that but yeahβ¦ Iβve missed this. A lot.β
You fought the urge to roll your eyes. How could he sound so⦠unaffected? So normal?
And maybe you stared too long, because when you blinked back to reality, he was looking right at you.
You coughed and diverted your attention, steering the conversation back toward whatever the parents were chatting about next.
By the time dinner wrapped up, the dishes were emptied, laughter had filled the room more than once, and everyoneβs stomachs were happily full. You stood to start clearing the table.
Of course, Jungkook helped. He always did. It didnβt matter whose house it was. Heβd gather the dishes, wash, dry, and put them away with you. It was second nature. Respectful. Familiar.
And for just a fleeting second, it felt like old times. Like your Jungkook was still there. Maybe just for tonight.
Both sets of parents waved you off, insisting you two should relax, settle in, rest after all the hard work. But that was never your style and you werenβt about to let Mrs. Jeon and your mum do everything alone.
In the kitchen, silence hung between you. Comfortable. Strange. His presence warmed the space, his clothes carrying that same scent you used to bury your face into when the world got too loud.
You missed him. God, you really did.
You rinsed a plate, passing it to Jungkook without a word. He took it, dried it gently, and stacked it neatly on the rack like always. The rhythm between you felt automatic, muscle memory stitched into routine. But underneath it, the quiet was anything but easy.
Eventually, he broke it.
βYour dad hasnβt changed at all,β he said softly, a half-smile in his voice. βStill talks like heβs trying to interview everyone at the table.β
You let out a small breath. Half a laugh, half a sigh. βYeah. He gets worse when heβs nervous.β
βNervous?β Jungkook looked over, his eyes catching yours for a second too long.
You shrugged. βItβs been a while since we were all here. You know what that does to him.β
He nodded slowly, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he reached for the next bowl. You pretended not to notice, but the heat lingered.
βI meant what I said earlier,β he said, voice quiet. βI really did miss this.β
You kept your eyes on the soapy water. βItβs easy to miss things when youβre far away from them.β
That hung in the air for a moment. Sharp. Honest.
Jungkook didnβt say anything right away. Just dried the next plate, slower this time.
βAndβ¦ can you please keep whateverβs been happening on campus. About my reputation there, under the bus.β His tone was careful now, laced with something like guilt. βDonβt bring it up to my parents. Especially my mum.β
And just like that, the version of Jungkook youβd held onto in your memory. The boy you grew up with felt like heβd slipped away for good.
You stilled, hands submerged in the warm water. βAre you serious right now?β you snapped, voice rising before you could stop it. You turned toward him, brows pulled tight.
He straightened, finally looking at you, face tense. βHey... can you not-β His voice dipped low. βTone it down, alright?β
You blinked, stunned.
He exhaled, leaning into the counter, not quite meeting your eyes. βI know, I know. I probably sound like a complete douche. And maybe I am. But I canβt have them finding out. Not about that.β
You turned to face him fully, searching his expression. For a flicker of the boy who used to knock on your window at midnight, who swore he'd always be on your side.
βYou left me to figure it all out on my own, Jungkook,β you said, the words thick with the weight of everything you hadnβt said until now.
βYou started treating me like I didnβt matter the second people on campus started learning your name.β
That one landed. His jaw tightened. His eyes dropped.
The overhead kitchen light above flickered slightly. The dishes were almost done.
And for the first time in months, you felt like something was finally about to break.
Just then, Jungkookβs phone buzzed on the counter beside him. Once. Then again. Then again. You didnβt have to look. You already knew.
The constant stream of notifications was all the confirmation you needed. It was the guys' group chat. Loud. Persistent. Like the version of him you didnβt recognize anymore was calling him back.
You quietly placed the last dish in the rack, wiping your hands on a tea towel.
From the lounge, laughter spilled into the kitchen. Your parents and his, watching whatever drama or variety show was on, lost in their own version of comfort.
You and Jungkook returned to the living room. The moment your parents saw you, your dad chuckled.
βDone already? That might be a new record.β
Normally, dish duty took longer because of playful bickering, soap flicked in faces, elbow nudges, stupid arguments about whose turn it was to dry.
You forced a smile. βYep, all done. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon. Dinner was amazing. It was so nice seeing you both again.β
They stood, warm and familiar, exchanging hugs. Jungkook followed suit, giving your parents a hug and telling them it was good catching up over dinner, offering his own easy smile like nothing had shifted just moments earlier.
Mrs. Jeon turned to your mum, eyes lighting up. βOh, we have to go to the Saturday market together in the morning. Itβs been ages.β
Your mum gasped in agreement, already mentally planning the morning. βYes! You, me, and our reusable bags. Itβs a date.β
Mrs. Jeon looked between you and Jungkook. βYou two should come along. Jungkook can drive us all. Right, sweetie?β
You nodded. βIβm keen.β You missed those early morning strolls, the smell of fresh bread and brewed coffee floating through the stalls.
Jungkook scratched the back of his neck. βIβll see how I feel,β he said noncommittally. βMight have stuff to work on.β
You just nodded. Of course he might.
With the evening winding down, your family said your goodbyes and stepped outside. The Jeon house was right next door to yours. A perk of a lifelong friendship. Even now, you still found it a little surreal that your parents had managed to buy houses side by side. Soulmates, in their own way.
Your mums, always inseparable. Just like you and Jungkook used to be.
Until you werenβt.
After you and your parents stepped out into the night, laughter still trailing behind you, the Jeon house fell into a quieter rhythm.
Jungkook and his parents lingered in the doorway for a moment before turning back inside.
It wasnβt exactly how things used to be. But it wasnβt unfamiliar either. The kind of stillness that only came from being back home after a long time away. The air held something warm and nostalgic, even if a little too quiet now.
βGo wash up and get settled in, sweetheart,β his mum said as they walked back into the lounge. She gave his arm a soft squeeze. βI changed the sheets and aired out the room, but I left everything else just how you had it.β
His dad added with a nod, already making himself comfortable on the couch again. βWeβre gonna stay up a bit, finish this show your mumβs obsessed with. You know how it is.β
Jungkook laughed lightly. βOf course. You two and your midnight TV marathons.β
They both smiled, and his mum reached up to smooth his hair. βItβs good to have you home, Kook.β
βYeah,β he said, hugging them both. βMissed you guys.β
He kissed his mumβs cheek, gave his dad a pat on the back, and made his way up the familiar stairs. Slowly, like each step was stirring something deeper.
When he reached his room, he hesitated at the door before pushing it open.
Everything looked the same.
His old posters still lined the hallway, the same spot on the wall where he'd once drawn on the wallpaper with crayon still hidden behind a framed photo.
Bed made with navy-blue sheets, desk still stacked with random comics and knick-knacks, photos still taped above the headboardβsome curling at the corners now. His guitar case was right where he left it. A faint layer of dust coated the windowsill, but otherwise, it felt untouched. Preserved.
Like time had been waiting for him.
He stepped inside, exhaling slowly, letting the weight of the day settle in his shoulders. Tossed his hoodie onto the chair. Sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor for a moment, caught in the hum of everything familiar. The scent of laundry detergent, floorboards creaking in all the right places. It made his chest ache in a way he couldnβt name.
Then he remembered about he buzzing from earlier. The group chat.
He grabbed his phone, the screen lighting up with a dozen missed messages.
Jin-hyung: yo i'm already losing my mind w my cousins here Namjoon: been catching up on readingsβ¦ send help Jimin: iβm not doing any work this week. iβm feral now. leave me Hoseok: my fam made this huge feast and iβve been watching my old dance vids + workshop recaps since i got home Taehyung: jungkookkkkkkk you bonding yet or what donβt forget the terms, golden boy Jimin: LMAO NOT THE DARE Namjoon: bro you better have got it started. Taehyung: a betβs a bet. clockβs ticking. Namjooon: once you make her fall for youβ¦ break her. fuck, iβm looking forward to how youβll pull it off Hoseok: public humiliation? exposure? fuck i canβt wait. but tbh kookie iβm kinda jealous. y/nβs a smash for me. Namjoon: hobi just stfu. Jimin: You guys are lethal. Jin-hyung: yo, i love you all but iβm out of this bs Yoongi: no fun, hyung.
Jungkook stared at the messages, his jaw tight, teeth pressed together.
That guilt was back. The same one that clenched his stomach earlier when he asked you to keep things quiet. The same guilt that rose when he caught that look in your eyes. Like you saw everything, even the parts he didnβt want you to.
He turned the screen off and tossed the phone facedown onto his bed.
The silence returned. He leaned back, eyes tracing the familiar cracks in the ceiling, the soft flicker of light from the street filtering in through his curtains.
You were just next door.
But somehow, you felt miles away.
Drawn by some quiet impulse, Jungkook stood up and walked to his window. He could see your room from here. The lamp had just flicked on, casting a soft, golden glow behind your curtains. He could make out the silhouette of your gentle and slow movement. Maybe you were brushing your hair. Maybe you were changing. He didnβt know.
But he remembered a time when he did know everything.
You two used to talk from your windows, yelling across the small gap between houses like there was no one else in the world. Sometimes so loud his parents would storm in and tell him to quiet down.
Those were the nights when he could make you laugh until your voice cracked.
Back then, when you looked at him, Jungkook felt like he was somebody worth being.
He stayed at the window until your light flicked off.
Then it hit him. Youβd gone to bed. Closed off from him again.
He sighed, shoulders dropping, and turned away.
His dad had already brought his bags upstairs. He made a mental note to thank him tomorrow. For now, he just needed to wash up. Get his head straight.
Before stepping into the bathroom, he picked up his phone again. Just to check the chat.
He hovered over the keyboard for a second too long.
Then, almost without thinking. Whether it was anger, pride, or fear. He fired off a reply to the group.
[Jungkook]: Donβt worry. I've got it planned.
He tossed the phone back onto the bed.
The words didnβt even feel like his. But maybe that was the point.
Maybe this version of him, the one they all expected was easier to play.
Maybe if he played the part well enough, it wouldnβt hurt so much.
He made his way into the bathroom, the floor cool beneath his feet, the lights humming quietly overhead. As he splashed water onto his face, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Eyes tired. Jaw tense. Something unreadable just beneath the surface.
If anyone was going to be in your life. It had to be him.
Because no one knew you like Jungkook did.
And maybe, a little game wouldnβt hurt and tomorrow the act would begin.
Just like old times.
Back in your own room, youβd gone through the usual routine. Washed up, brushed your teeth, pulled on your oversized sleep tee. The kind that still smelled vaguely like your old high school fabric softener. You switched off the lamp, slipping under the covers, the soft rustle of sheets the only sound as the world outside dimmed.
Everything in your childhood room was exactly how you left it.
Posters still tacked onto the closet door. Your bookshelf, slightly crooked, still carried the dust of years past. YA novels, a few worn diaries, old photo booth strips stuffed between the pages. The small glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling had long lost their shine, but you never took them down. They were part of it. The history of you.
And him.
Your gaze drifted across the room. You could still picture Jungkook sprawled out on the rug during sleepovers, stealing your snacks, teasing you for your stuffed animal collection. You remembered the blanket forts. The whispered ghost stories. The night he cried after his first heartbreak and you pretended not to see the way his shoulders trembled.
So much of your room carried him. And yet now, it felt like he didnβt belong in here anymore. At least, not the version of him you saw tonight.
You turned to your side, reaching for your phone. The screen lit up with a single unread message from Hana.
[Hana]: omg are u alive or buried under family obligations yet? how was dinner w golden boy? spill. missing you alr though
You smiled faintly at the nickname. Golden boy. Sheβd started calling him that after you shared your long, messy Jungkook lore. Nappies and all. Hana had become your go-to. The one person you trusted at uni to hold that story without twisting it.
You typed back quickly.
[You]: lol I survived. Dinner was⦠good? weird? idk. will explain everything when the time comes. And yes, I miss you too!
You hit send, then placed your phone on your nightstand, screen-down.
But sleep didnβt come easily.
Not when Jungkookβs words kept circling back.
βCan you keep whateverβs been happening on campusβ¦ under the bus? Donβt bring it up to my parents.β
The audacity.
Who did he think you were?
Some quiet little side character in his new story? As if you didnβt know who he was now. As if you hadnβt heard things. As if you hadnβt seen the photos, the whispers, the rotating of girls, the club nights, the film school fanbase he seemed to thrive off.
He used to tell you everything.
Now he was asking you to lie.
You had to admit, Jungkook was smart. He knew you wouldnβt dare say anything. Not when it meant disappointing his parents. Not when the truth would hurt the people who still greeted you with open arms, who still saw you as part of their family.
You rolled onto your back, exhaling sharply into the stillness of your room.
What hurt the most was how close he was. Just one window away. And yet, somehow, it felt like he was miles from you. That brief silhouette in the kitchen, the quiet tension thick in the air, the group chat notifications you couldnβt see but knew were buzzing beneath his skin. Everything pointed to the same painful truth.
He wasnβt the Jungkook you used to know.
Not anymore.
And the scariest part was⦠a small part of you still wanted to believe he was. Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, the ache in your chest softening just enough to let you sleep.
The next morning, the scent of toast and brewed coffee nudged you awake.
You blinked your eyes open slowly, sunlight already spilling through your curtains. The world outside your window was glowing. Familiar. Safe.
You sat up, stretching as the sound of light chatter floated in from downstairs. Your parents.
After slipping into some jeans and a clean hoodie, you padded down to the kitchen.
βMorning, sleepyhead,β your dad called out, already at the stove, expertly flipping eggs.
βYou hungry?β
βStarving,β you replied with a sleepy smile.
βMorning, sweetie,β your mum chimed in from the other side of the kitchen island. She was already dressed for the day. Hair neatly tied back, sunglasses perched on her head, a canvas market tote slung over one shoulder, and practical walking shoes on her feet.
βIβve been waiting on you,β she said with a playful glance. βYouβre still coming to the market, right? Jungkookβs mum is ready too, weβll go over there soon.β
You nodded, stretching lightly. βIβll go get washed up and ready then.β
Before you could leave, your dad slid a plate in front of you. Toast still warm, butter melting into the surface, eggs perfectly done. He gestured toward it with his spatula. βEat first. Didnβt you just say you were starving?β
You sat down and took a bite, nodding with your mouth full. βGood call.β
He grinned. βSaturday markets are sacred, Y/n. Fuel up.β
The morning felt good. Warm. Comforting. For a moment, everything felt right again.
However, on the other side. Next door, someone was still sleeping. Sunlight filtered through the edges of his curtains, casting soft stripes across his blanket-tangled form.
Downstairs, Mrs. Jeon was already dressed and ready for the Saturday market. Hair pinned back neatly, sunglasses perched on top of her head like a crown, canvas tote over her arm, and a familiar gleam in her eyes. The one that meant today was for errands and bonding.
She bustled through the kitchen humming to herself, wiping down counters that were already clean, checking her phone and then her watch like time owed her something.
Her husband had already eaten and slipped out not long ago, off on one of his routine morning walks around the neighbourhood park. Something he proudly called his βretired cardio.β
By 9:45am, she was tapping her foot at the base of the staircase.
βJungkook-ah!β she called up the stairs in that half-sing-song tone only a mother could master. βWake up! Weβre going to the market and youβre driving!β
No answer.
She called again, louder this time. βKookie! I already told Y/n's mum that we'll be ready by 10!"
Still nothing.
She sighed, muttering under her breath as she marched toward the stairs. βThis boy acts like heβs filming a movie in his dreamsβ¦β
Up the stairs she went, each step announcing her arrival like a one-woman parade. When she reached his room, she didnβt bother knocking. Mothers didnβt have time for boundaries when produce was on sale.
She flung the door open.
βJungkook!β
He was sprawled out like a starfish, one leg off the bed, the other tangled in a blanket, face half-buried into his pillow. His phone was still lying face-down by his side, forgotten. Hair an absolute crime scene.
She crossed her arms. βYah, do you know what time it is? Itβs already late for the good tomatoes!β
Jungkook groaned from the depths of his bed. βI thought you gave me options if I wanted to go or not. And right now I'm not feeling it....β
βWell... I changed my mind. Get up now."
He cracked one eye open, grumbling. βWhy?β
βBecause I want to spend time with you.β She softened, patting his leg through the blanket. βCome on. Just like old times. You and me and a lot of fresh greens.β
He groaned again, but this time the stubbornness was softer, almost defeated, as he rubbed his face. βIβm going back to sleep.β
βNot a chance. Weβll get candied nuts. And those dumplings you canβt resist.β
That finally pulled him upright, his hair a wild mess, like heβd just survived a tornado. βOkay, okay! Iβm up. But donβt drag me out in my boxers.β
βThen move faster before I do.β She shot him a grin and strode out of the room.
βTen minutes, Jeon Jungkook. Iβm timing you.β
He swung his legs over the side of the bed with an exaggerated groan, shuffling toward the bathroom. βCan a man just get some decent sleep around here?β
From downstairs, his momβs voice came back without missing a beat. βHurry up!β
The morning was crisp, sun soft and golden as you and your mum stepped out the front door, reusable market bags tucked under one arm. The walk to the Jeonsβ was short. Just a few steps, really but the air buzzed faintly with something unspoken. It always did when he was involved.
Mrs. Jeon was already outside with a bright smile on her face. She turned just in time to see you both approaching.
βThere they are!β she beamed, arms opening wide as she leaned in to hug your mum. βGood morning, you two. The weatherβs perfect, isnβt it? I told Jungkook the market gods were smiling on us today.β
Your mum chuckled, βTold you it wouldnβt rain, didnβt I?β
Mrs. Jeon then turned her gaze to you, her expression softening with genuine care. βHow was your first night back?β
You returned her smile and wrapped her in a hug. βItβs really nice to be home.β
And just as you pulled back, you heard the door creak open behind her.
Footsteps on the porch.
Then came him.
Jungkook stepped out wearing a loose, dark plaid short-sleeve shirt layered casually over a crisp white tee. His light-wash jeans hung baggy and relaxed, the kind of effortless style that suggested heβd rolled out of bed not long ago. Twenty minutes tops, if you were being honest. His hair still held that tousled, just-woke-up look, soft strands falling naturally.
The sunlight caught his face at just the right angle, drawing attention to the silver glint of his lip piercing, shimmering subtly beneath the curve of his bottom lip. It hadnβt been so noticeable last night, dimmed by the kitchenβs soft lighting. But here, in the clear brightness of day, it was impossible to overlook.
And then there were the tattoos, now fully revealed across the backs of his hands, weaving up the veins of his forearms like inked stories waiting to be read. Stark black lines against his golden skin, each mark a sketch hinting at secrets you hadnβt yet uncovered.
He glanced at you briefly before dropping his gaze, jangling his car keys in one hand.
βWe ready to go?,β he said simply, voice low and half-scratchy with sleep.
Your mum looked at Mrs. Jeon, a little amused. βLook at him, ready to chauffeur us.β
Mrs. Jeon clapped her hands together. βHeβs driving. Itβs the least he can do after making me drag him out of bed.
βMum,β Jungkook muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck, but there was a flicker of a smile.
Mrs. Jeon turned to you then, placing a gentle hand on your back. βYou take the front seat, darling. Jungkookβs used to me yelling directions from the back anyway.β
You hesitated. βOh no, itβs okay, I donβt mind sitting in the-β
βNonsense,β she waved you off. "Front seatβs yours.β
Your mum nodded in agreement. βGo on, weβll sit in the back and talk produce.β
You blinked, caught between your own resistance and the weight of four parental eyes.
βOkayβ¦β you muttered, making your way to the passenger door.
You could feel Jungkookβs presence beside you as he unlocked the car, the soft click of the doors breaking the stillness. As you slid into the seat, the familiarity of it all hit in waves.
Not with the new version of him beside you, hands inked, lip pierced, shoulders broader than you remembered.
He got in, adjusting the mirror with a quick glance at the back seat. βEveryone good?β
βYep,β Mrs. Jeon chimed. βLetβs go get some vegetables.β
As he pulled out of the driveway, the silence between you buzzed louder than the morning radio.
Because youβd thought he wouldnβt come. You really did.
And yet here he was. Driving, casual, unreadable.
And suddenly, a memory bubbled up before you could stop it.
You were sixteen, nervous hands gripping the steering wheel of his dadβs old Toyota. Jungkook beside you in the passenger seat, half-eating a popsicle, half-coaching you through parallel parking.
βEase off the brake. Not slam it. Ease. Youβre not trying to throw me through the windshield,β heβd teased.
Youβd glared at him. βDo you want to teach me or not?β
Heβd smiled then, soft and crooked. βI always do. Just donβt kill us.β
Back then, youβd learned how to trust the road and trust him.
Now, you werenβt so sure of either.
You turned slightly to glance at him. He was focused on driving, hand casually resting on the wheel, the ink on his fingers visible as he shifted gears with practiced ease.
You folded your hands in your lap and stared out the window again, silence thick in your throat. The radio hummed something soft in the background. Your mums chatted lightly in the back seat, comparing shopping lists and debating what market stall had the best sourdough.
But between you and Jungkook, the silence felt heavier than ever.
He was close. Right there in the driverβs seat beside you, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Yet emotionally, he felt miles away.
Still, a small part of you clung to memories of the boy who had cheered the loudest when you nailed that perfect reverse park, telling you it was the coolest thing heβd ever seen.
But now⦠he was someone who made you feel invisible.
Still driving the same car.
Still offering you rides.
Just not in the way he used to.
The local Saturday market was already in full swing by the time you arrived. Tents lined the footpaths in bursts of colour. Fresh flowers, handmade crafts, overflowing crates of seasonal fruit. The scent of brewed coffee, warm cinnamon, and the faint salt of the sea in the distance wove through the morning air.
You stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching softly beneath your sneakers, your mum already calling dibs on the walnut loaf from her favorite bakery stand.
Mrs. Jeon smiled warmly, looping her arm through your mumβs. βCome on, before it all sells out.β
βYou two can just mingle together. If you lose us, remember to call,β your mum said with a knowing smile.
With that, the two mums melted into the crowd as if it were their usual Saturday ritual. Which, judging by how easily they slipped away, it probably was. And just like that, you were left alone with him.
Jungkook trailed a few steps behind you, hands tucked in his jean pocket, lip ring catching the sunlight when he glanced to the side. You could feel his eyes on you. Too aware. Too observant.
You didnβt say anything.
He didnβt either. Not yet.
Because internally, he was trying to calculate the angle.
This shouldnβt be that hard.
You had history. Long, tangled, intimate history.
He knew how you looked when you were crying in the dark. When you laughed with your whole chest. When you wore oversized t-shirts in summer and leaned your head on his shoulder like it meant nothing.
The way your mouth twitched when you were annoyed. How your eyes always flicked to the left when you were trying to lie. How you twisted your bracelets around your wrist when you were nervous.
He could read you like a book.
And right now, Jungkook was thinking this bet? This dare?
It was already in the bag.
You used to like him. Hell, maybe you still did. That part of you that lingered, that looked at him in the kitchen last night like you were waiting for an old friend to return.
And yeah, maybe you had every right to hate him now. But he also knew you well enough to knowβ¦
You never stopped caring completely.
He could tell.
So all he had to do was dial it up.
The eye contact. The soft teasing. The subtle call-backs to childhood memories. Play the long game. Make you feel like heβs still in there somewhere.
Make you trust him again.
And when the time came?
Well, the ending was supposed to hurt, wasnβt it?
He wasnβt proud of it. But the bravado of the group chat still echoed in his head. Golden boy. Star of the show. No one ever expected him to fall. Just deliver the twist.
βHey,β he said, suddenly at your side as you passed the fresh fruit stand. His voice was soft, casual. βWhat do you say we check out that stall with your favorite tteokbokki and fried chicken?β
You slowed your steps. Hesitated. The air felt thicker for a second.
Part of you wanted to say no. To turn away. To remind him that things weren't the same. But your stomach gave a quiet nudge, and the thought of something warm and spicy. Something comforting sounded⦠nice.
So you nodded. Small. Reluctant. But real.
His grin widened, smooth as ever.
Still, you fell in step beside him, the gravel crunching underfoot as the two of you wove past toddlers with melting ice creams and couples in linen pants holding mason jars of cold brew. The sounds of the market wrapped around you. Vendors calling out, oil sizzling in pans, laughter in the distance.
He led the way like nothing had shifted, like the months of distance. The silence, the sharp edges of everything unsaid didnβt hang in the space between you. You followed, unsure why.
Maybe it was the scent of the food stalls up ahead.
Or maybe it was just easier than confronting the weight in your chest.
βStill canβt handle spice?β he asked, glancing at you sideways, the corner of his mouth twitching into something playful.
You gave a small shrug, eyes focused ahead. βIβve gotten better.β
βLiar,β he said, light and teasing. And for a second, just a split one, it almost felt like nothing had changed.
He ordered for the both of you like he always used to. Two servings of tteokbokki, one with extra spice βfor him,β and crispy fried chicken to share. You stood to the side, hands shoved in your sleeves, watching the steam rise from the giant steel trays, the sauce bubbling thick and red.
He handed you your bowl carefully, making sure the lid was on tight before offering chopsticks with a little flick of his wrist, like it was muscle memory.
You murmured a quiet βthanks,β sitting on the edge of a nearby planter box where the stalls opened up into a clearing. Jungkook sat beside you, just close enough that your arms almost brushed.
You ate in silence for a while, save for the hum of market life around you. Music playing faintly from someoneβs portable speaker, a child whining for another bite of cotton candy.
βI missed this,β he said suddenly, picking at a piece of chicken. βBeing back home. Seeing the same faces, hearing the ahjummas shout their usual nonsense. Justβ¦ being around the people who actually know me.β
Your chopsticks froze mid-air. You didnβt look at him.
βFunny,β you said softly, not bitter. Just tired. βNot long ago, you made me swear to keep your βfratboyβ antics under wraps."
His hand paused, the piece of chicken halfway to his mouth.
The words settled between you like a weight. Quiet but sharp, impossible to ignore.
He didnβt answer right away. Instead, he stared off into nothing, like the noise of the market had suddenly become miles away. And for a second, you caught a glimpse of the boy behind the ego. The boy you grew up with before university swallowed him whole.
βI didnβt know how to come back from that,β he finally said, voice low and raw. βSo I ran. From everything. From you. I thought avoiding it would hurt less.β
You looked down at your bowl. The food was still warm, but the taste had changed.
βYou thought wrong.β
And still, somehow, you kept eating. Because thatβs what people do. They sit in the wreckage and try to feel normal. Bite by bite.
Even when the taste is tinged with regret.
It was warmer now, the late-morning sun filtering through the trees. You paused to swipe hair from your face, nearly bumping into Jungkook when he suddenly stopped in front of a vendor booth.
He turned to you with a strange glint in his eyes. βWait here.β
You blinked. βWhat? Why-β
But he was already weaving through the small crowd, leaving you with a confused crease between your brows.
A minute later, he returned, something hidden behind his back.
You narrowed your eyes. βIf this is some kind of market prank, I swear-β
Then he held something out to you.
A delicate stem of crochet tulips, hand-stitched with vibrant yarn in shades of soft pinks and creams, the green stem twisting gently in his fingers.
Your breath caught.
It wasnβt a typical bouquet, but it felt more meaningful than any fresh flowers could. Each petal carefully crafted, a small work of art. You could tell it was from one of the local artisans at the market. Jungkook had been thoughtful enough to pick something handmade, something to support the small businesses.
His grin softened, warm and genuine, a hint of boyish pride in his eyes.
βFigured youβd like something unique. Plus, I wanted to help out the local makers.β
Your hand hovered briefly before reaching out. βYou havenβt given me something like this since we were kids.β
βSince we were eleven,β he said quietly, offering the tulips closer.
You took them slowly, your fingertips brushing his as you accepted the gift.
For a moment, the distance between you seemed to shrink.
The silence. The unspoken words. The weight of all the time and space in between.
It was just you and that little stem of crochet tulips. An unexpected reminder of simpler days.
You turned the flowers over in your hands, and a memory surfaced.
You were eleven, sitting on the porch swing at dusk. Jungkook, always a little quieter back then, had picked wildflowers from the field behind your houses and handed you a handful, shy but sincere.
βThese are for you,β he said softly. βBecause you make everything better.β
Your chest tightened, that memory hitting with a bittersweet pang.
You looked away quickly, blinking back the rush of feeling. βYouβre such a dork,β you murmured.
And just thenβ
βY/N! Jungkook!β a cheerful voice broke through the moment, pulling you back to the present.
You turned to see Mrs. Jeon a short distance away, waving a bunch of kale enthusiastically in one hand as she called for both of you. Your mum stood beside her, sharing a quiet laugh as if theyβd just exchanged a secret you werenβt quite part of yet.
Jungkook chuckled under his breath. βCrisis alert. Kale mom is back.β
You shook your head, relief flooding in from the distraction. βWe should go before she starts preaching the benefits of green juice again.β
He gave a smile. βYes, of course."
Walking side by side toward them, you held the crochet tulips a little tighter. Like a fragile thread of hope you werenβt ready to let go of. But at the same time, you werenβt about to give Jungkook your heart so easily again.
Because even if you werenβt ready to admit itβ¦
Some part of you still remembered when Jungkook made you feel like you were everything.
And that part?
It was stirring.
Market day had come and gone in a blur. By late afternoon, you were back home, barefoot and content, the crochet tulips resting gently on your desk. Not stored away, but not forgotten either.
Lunch had stretched into an early dinner, your dad had whipped up a simple yet comforting spread. Kimchi fried rice topped with a fried egg, and a side of his homemade japchae noodles that he claimed were unbeatable. You didnβt complain. Meanwhile, your mum had settled into one of her rare naps on the couch, a well-loved novel slipping quietly from her hands onto the floor.
Now, back in your childhood room, you had an annotated PDF open, pen between your teeth, and the kind of concentration only caffeine and obligation could summon. Until your phone buzzed beside you.
Once.
You didnβt think much of it.
Then it buzzed again.
You glanced over.
[Jungkook]: what you up to?
You froze.
The message sat there like a riddle you werenβt sure how to answer.
It wasnβt the words that threw you. It was the fact that heβd sent them at all.
He didnβt text you anymore. Not like that. Not since first year when he started gaining more attention, when people began whispering about his name on campus like it was some kind of currency.
Back then, you'd gone from being the first person he shared everything with to⦠no one at all. The calls slowed. The texts faded. The responses became one-liners, then emojis, then silence.
So why now?
Why this?
Your fingers hovered over the screen, hesitant.
Because part of you. The part youβd buried under logic and pride and every reason not to care, still remembered what it felt like to open your phone and see his name.
Still remembered what it meant when it was him reaching out first.
You sighed, leaning back against the headboard, the glow of your desk lamp soft against your skin.
This didnβt mean anything.
You stared at the screen a second longer, pulse just slightly faster than before.
Then you texted back, short and safe.
[You]: just catching up on some business case studies. why?
You hit send and placed the phone beside you, trying to ignore how your heart skipped just a little. Trying not to overthink the silence that followed.
Meanwhile, just next door, the Jeon house was dim and quiet, save for the low hum of a ceiling fan and the occasional clack of Jungkookβs keyboard.
He was in his room, hunched over his desk, storyboard sketches spread out in loose clusters. His laptop was open, film project templates blinking back at him while he scribbled notes in one of his lined journals. Jungkook had music playing faintly in the background, something instrumental, lo-fi. The kind of thing that made him feel like he was getting things done, even if most of the evening had passed in more thinking than actual work.
Still, the ideas were coming. Slowly, but they were.
His film pitch was due after break. A short docu-style feature about perception versus reality. Heβd circled the word duality three times on his mind map. If he was honest, the concept hit a little too close to home.
His phone was propped up against a half-empty cup of iced coffee, the group video call buzzing on speaker as he multitasked. Or at least tried to.
Taehyungβs voice cut through his scattered focus first.
βSo how's it going Kook?β
βDid she fall in love with you again yet?β Jimin teased, the grin practically audible over the connection.
βShut up,β Jungkook muttered, biting the end of his pen. βWe just went to the market. Some bonding time with the mums. Thatβs all.β
βThatβs it?β Hoseok scoffed. βThatβs like K-drama Episode 3 material. Youβre slacking, golden boy.β
Namjoon chuckled. βYeah, man, whatβs next? Movie invite? Old hangout spot? Sleepover like the good old days?β
Jungkook groaned, leaning back in his chair. βHyung, itβs not that simple.β
But the guys werenβt letting up. They kept poking and prodding, tossing half-serious suggestions his way.
βTake her to the movies.β
βGet boba, go down memory lane, use that stupid line like... βRemember when we used to-?ββ
βOr just send a damn text already.β
Jungkook exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. He hated to admit it, but they werenβt wrong. He knew exactly how to get under your skin. Heβd done it for years. Familiarity was a weapon, and he wielded it well.
But still, there was a pause.
He stared at his phone for a long moment. Because the last time heβd seen your name pop up, it hadnβt been casual. It hadnβt been playful.
It was months ago.
[Y/n]: hey, are you still walking me back after class? you said youβd wait
He hadnβt responded.
He was supposed to be there. Youβd planned it. Talked about grabbing Korean BBQ on the way back, catching up. Just the two of you.
But he never showed.
At first, he thought heβd be five minutes late. Then the guys had pulled him aside. Something about a pop-up party. A girl in a leather jacket with silver eyeliner and too much perfume, had laughed at his joke. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Once, twice and he ignored it.
By the time heβd remembered?
It was hours too late.
And you never followed up. Never double-texted. Just⦠silence.
Which is what made texting you now feel like walking into a room he once trashed.
But still he had to keep up the image. Play his part.
He let out a slow exhale, jaw flexing.
Then, ego first, he typed a short what you up to.
It took a few seconds, maybe even minutes before your reply finally came through. You talked about being buried in case studies. Deep down, Jungkook still admired that about you, your fierce dedication, the way you threw yourself into everything with such passion. He loved that about you. Still did. But admitting it? That was a different story.
[Jungkook]: wanna catch a movie tmr? like old times. just us. my shout.
He hit send and flipped his phone over, face-down, like that would stop whatever was coming.
βOkay. I asked,β he muttered to the phone, more to himself than anyone. βHappy now?β
Taehyung howled on the other end of the call. βThatβs our boy.β
The other guys chimed in, egging him on. But under the noise, Jungkook felt something twist in his chest. Not quite victory, not quite regret.
Somewhere between ego and guilt.
Just next door, you stared at the notification on your screen. Your heart thudded in your chest like it used to, back when his texts meant something. Back when the idea of just the two of you made you feel safe, not suspicious.
Was this genuine? Was this a joke?
Your mind spiraled. You remembered the afternoons in the park, movie marathons, late-night talks, the way he used to make you feel seen in a way no one else did. And yet, the hurt lingered.
You sighed, leaning back in your chair.
Maybe it was too soon.
Maybe it wasnβt.
You typed back slowly, fingers trembling slightly.
[You]: I donβt know, Jungkook. Itβs been a long time.
You hit send and stared at the screen, waiting for whatever would come next.
[Jungkook]: I know but just trust me. It'll be fun.
You stared at his reply.
You read it once. Twice. And then again, slower this time. Hoping the words would reveal something deeper. A hidden meaning. A trace of sincerity.
But it was plain. Casual. Carefree, like he hadnβt ghosted you that night outside the lecture hall. Like months of silence didnβt exist between you.
So casual, so simple, as if he hadnβt spent the last few weeks making it clear that whatever you two had as kids didnβt mean a thing to him anymore.
Trust me.
You scoffed under your breath.
Still⦠a part of you hesitated.
As if he hadnβt looked you in the eye before and said, βThat shit doesn't mean anything now.β
And maybe you couldβve let it go. Maybe you couldβve convinced yourself he didnβt mean it, that he was just trying to seem tough.
Jungkook was now this carefully curated version of himself. Confident. Distant. The kind of guy who laughed with his friends about dares and pretended emotions were weaknesses.
What happened to him? Who made him believe he had to become this?
You werenβt sure. But you did know one thing. You werenβt going to be his emotional safety net whenever he felt like slipping back into the past. You weren't going to sit beside him on a couch and pretend that watching a movie would make things okay again.
So you didnβt answer. You read his message, let your thumb hover for a second, then locked your phone and threw it on the bed. Do Not Disturb on. He lived next door. If he had something worth saying, he could knock.
Jungkook, on the other hand, stared at the message thread longer than heβd ever admit. He was pacing. He thought the text would get your attention. That it would spark something. Annoyance, sarcasm, even just a roll of your eyes. But instead, silence. No reply. No reaction. Justβ¦ nothing.
And that nothing started to dig its way into him.
He scoffed to himself. βCute,β he muttered, tossing his phone onto his bed and rubbing the back of his neck like he wasnβt annoyed. But he was. Not because he cared. At least, not in the way he used to. No, this was about something else entirely.
The dare.
He wasnβt used to being doubted. Especially not when it came to girls, and especially not when it came to you. You were supposed to be easy. Familiar. A done deal. History, chemistry, emotional leverage. All of it stacked in his favor.
So when you ignored him? When you didnβt fall into the trap like he expected?
That stung. Not just because he fucking missed you. God, he did. But because losing to you would be a brutal hit to the one thing he guarded like hell. His pride.
Leaning against the wall, Jungkook peeked through the curtains of his window, eyes flicking toward your house like he could summon your attention just by looking. He didnβt care if it was real or fake anymore. He just needed to win. Needed to show the guys and maybe to himself that you were still in his orbit. That he still had you wrapped around his finger, whether you liked it or not.
Because in his mind, this wasnβt about friendship. It wasnβt about nostalgia.
This was about control.
And the game had only just begun.
You were thirteen, and Jungkook was as always, barging in next door, like he owned the place. Todayβs mission? Drag you into what he insisted was the ultimate way to spend a Saturday: a Marvel movie marathon.
βCome on, you gotta watch these,β he said, practically dragging you by the wrist into your living room. βEspecially Iron Man. Heβs the best.β
You rolled your eyes but secretly didnβt mind. You had always admired how he could get excited about the smallest things, how his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning whenever he talked about Tony Starkβs snarky one-liners or those crazy flying suits.
Halfway through the second movie, Jungkook leaned back on the couch, chewing on a piece of popcorn like it was the most important thing in the world.
βYou know,β he started, voice low and hesitant, βthereβs this girl in my class. Sana. I kinda like her.β
You glanced over, curious but careful not to stare. You knew Sana. The popular girl with the effortless charm, the kind who always had the nicest high-end stationery and an easy smile that made her stand out.
βSo, I asked her if she liked Marvel,β he continued, βand she said no. Not even a little. She said itβs dumb.β
Jungkook let out a long sigh, the kind that made you want to hug him. βI guess itβs just a silly crush. Nothing serious.β
You smiled softly, nudging him with your elbow.
βBut youβre serious about Iron Man,β you teased.
He chuckled, but then his eyes shifted, locking with yours in a way that made your heart skip.
βI thinkβ¦ I love you,β he blurted out.
The room seemed to still around those words, and your heart jumped.
You blinked, caught between surprise and confusion. Love? At thirteen? You had liked him, sure, but love was something else entirely.
Then, almost instantly, Jungkookβs eyes widened. He scrambled to correct himself, his words tumbling out fast.
βNo, no, wait! I mean... I love you. As a friend. Youβre, like, the most important person in my life. You mean the world to me.β
He scratched the back of his neck, cheeks heating up. βI didnβt mean it likeβ¦ that way. Not like that yet. Iβm just bad at saying stuff.β
You laughed softly, relieved but also touched. βI like you too, Jungkook. But yeahβ¦ loveβs a big word.β
He smiled, eyes warm and honest. βYeah, maybe itβs just something weβll figure out later.β
And there, on the worn-out couch, two kids tangled in feelings bigger than them, settled for the quiet comfort of a friendship that already meant everything.
