You met Park Jimin on a Tuesday afternoon when you were eight years old and still new enough to the school that every hallway felt unfamiliar.

The cafeteria was louder than anything you were used to. Voices were echoing off high ceilings, trays were clattering and children were shouting across tables as if silence was a crime punishable by death. You stood there for a moment longer than necessary with your tray in hand, scanning the room with the quiet desperation of someone hoping a seat might magically appear beside a friendly face.

Instead, a boy nearly collided with you.

He skidded to a halt just in time, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. His cherubic face filled your field of vision, chubby hands grabbing at the air in front of him in an attempt to find his balance.

“Whoa,” he said, steadying the tray before it tipped out of your hands. “Careful.”

You blinked up at him.

He was small for his age but there was an artless sort of ease and innocence in the way he stood there. His hair was a soft sandy blond that curled slightly at the ends and his eyes held the kind of playful brightness that suggested trouble was never very far away.

“Sorry” you said. You felt kind of embarrassed standing here in front of this beautiful looking boy, streaked as your cheeks were with the tear tracks that had made their way down your face as your mom had dropped you off in front of your new school.

He glanced at your tray, then back at the cafeteria, then finally at you again.

“You’re new?”

You nodded. You hoped desperately that he would offer you a hand of friendship and you wouldnt have to stand here awkwardly anymore.

“I could tell. You’re standing there like you’re waiting for someone to adopt you.” He smiled at you mischievously.

You frowned.

“I’m looking for a seat.”

“Well you won’t find one just standing there.”

Before you could protest, he reached over, grabbed your wrist with casual familiarity and began weaving through the tables.

“Come on.”

You stumbled after him, startled but too curious to pull away.

“Where are we going?”

“My table. All my friends are there too” he said simply.

He stopped near the back of the cafeteria where a small group of kids were already halfway through their lunches. A boy with glasses looked up.

“Jimin, who is this?”

“New friend,” Jimin interrupted, nudging a chair out with his foot. “Scoot.”

The others shifted without argument and before you could question it further, you were seated among them. Jimin dropped into the chair beside you.

“I’m Jimin” he said, opening his milk carton. “What’s your name?”

You told him.

He grinned, stuffing his face with the mini choco chip cookies in front of him. At your continued stare, he forwarded the packet and nudged at you to take some.

You stared at the cookies.

“Are you bribing me?”

“Obviously.”

You picked one up.

“Why?”

Jimin shrugged easily.

“Because making friends is easier than being bored.”

That was the beginning.

From that day forward, Park Jimin inserted himself into your life with the natural ease of someone who had already decided he belonged there. He walked you to class as soon as you entered through the school gates. He shared his snacks with you when you forgot yours and stole your pencils when he was bored just to watch you get annoyed. When other kids tried to pick on you for being the new girl, Jimin stepped between you and them with a bright smile that somehow managed to be both charming and mildly threatening. You grew immensely fond of him, becoming his partner in crime whenever he went around teasing other classmates. The two of you were like two peas in a pod, with the same sense of humor, mannerisms, even your favorite games.

By the time you were ten, it felt impossible to imagine your school days without him.

You didn’t know anything about his family beyond the vague fact that his grandfather worked in politics. Jimin didn’t talk about it much and you didn’t care enough to ask. To you, he was just Jimin. The boy who climbed trees better than anyone else. The boy who laughed too loudly during quiet reading hour. The boy who always saved you a seat. If anyone had asked you then, you probably would have said he was your best friend. For a while, that was enough.

Until the adults found out.

It happened on your birthday. Your parents had allowed you to invite a few friends over for a small party at your house. It was something you had been excited about for weeks. When your mother asked who you wanted to invite, you rattled off names without much thought. Jimin’s had been the first.

You didn’t notice the way your father’s expression changed when you mentioned it.

“Y/N,” she said carefully “how long have you known this boy?”

You glanced up from your bed.

“Jimin? Since third grade.”

Your father stepped into the room behind her.

“Park Jimin?” he asked sharply.

You frowned.

“I guess? That’s his last name.”

Your mother exchanged a look with your father. Then he sighed heavily and rubbed his temple like you had just given him terrible news.

“You can’t see him anymore, kiddo” he said.

The words were so sudden that for a moment you thought you’d misheard.

“What? Why?”

“Y/N, we cannot be seen with any member from his family” your mother explained.

“But why, Mama?”

Your father didn’t bother softening it.

“His grandfather is Park Yeoncheol. You know that your Papa lost the last elections because of him. Your granddad would be very angry if he finds out that you’re friends with the Park boy.”

“Oh.”

Your mother stepped closer, kneeling in front of you.

“This isn’t your fault” she said gently. “But it’s better if you keep your distance from him.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Do you want Papa to be angry at you? He loves you so much. He would be so sad if he hears of this, love.”

You tried arguing after that. You tried explaining that none of this had anything to do with you or Jimin. Your parents didn’t care.

The next day at school, the words felt heavy in your throat.

Jimin found you by the lockers like he always did.

“Y/N! Have you thought about which cake you’re going to order for the party? You know I love black forest but I can also make do with butterscotch.” He grinned at you cheekily.

You hesitated.

His smile slowly faded when he saw your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

You swallowed.

“My parents found out who your grandfather is.”

Jimin frowned slightly.

“…Okay?”

“They don’t want me talking to you anymore.”

The confusion on his face lasted exactly three seconds before disbelief replaced it.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“Why would that matter?”

“Because our families are rivals.”

He stared at you. “And?”

“And they said we can’t be friends.”

Jimin laughed not because it was funny but because the alternative was worse.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know.”

“So we should just ignore them.”

You shook your head helplessly.

“They’ll ground me.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we’ll just keep hanging out at school.”

“They’ll find out.”

“They don’t have to.”

Your chest tightened.

“You’re not understanding.”

“No” Jimin said quietly, “I think I am.”

The shift in his voice made your stomach drop.

“You’re choosing them.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You’re doing exactly what they told you.”

“I’m ten!”

“And?”

“And I can’t just ignore my parents! I don’t want to make Papa sad” Your lips wobbled, eyes filling with tears at your situation.

For a moment neither of you spoke. Then Jimin looked away. When he looked back, the softness that usually lived in his expression was gone.

“Fine,” he said lightly.

The sudden indifference caught you off guard.

“Fine?”

“Yeah.”

You waited for him to argue more but he didn’t.

“You’re not even going to fight me on this?” you asked.

“What’s the point?”

“You just said it was stupid!”

“It is.”

“Then why are you acting like you don’t care?”

Something that looked very close to hurt flickered in his eyes. But it vanished quickly behind a careless smile.

“Because if you’re going to dump me that easily,” he said “we probably weren’t that good of friends anyway.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You eyes widened, two fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

“That’s not true.”

“Sure.”

“Jimin-”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N”

You watched him walk away with a strange tightness in your chest, knowing you had lost that sweet boy, your sweet boy, forever. That was the moment everything changed.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At first, the change in Jimin wasn’t obvious. For the first few days after your parents forbade the friendship, he simply stopped approaching you. He no longer waited by your locker in the mornings or dragged you toward the cafeteria during lunch. When you passed him in the hallway, he didn’t speak, didn’t smile, didn’t even acknowledge your presence beyond a brief glance that slid away as quickly as it appeared.

It should have made things easier. Instead, it made everything feel strangely hollow. You had expected anger. Some kind of confrontation. Jimin had never been the quiet type and his sudden indifference felt more unsettling than a fight would have.

A week passed like that.

Then the comments started.

You were reaching into your locker one morning when Jimin leaned against the metal door beside it, a sneer pulling on his otherwise sweet face.

“Well, if it isn’t the girl who abandons her friends because her dad told her to.”

Your hand froze halfway to your backpack, shame and guilt clawing at your chest. You did realise what a bad friend you had been to him but your pride wouldn’t let you admit it in front of the entire school.

“I didn’t abandon you” you said stiffly.

He finally glanced at you, eyes bright with amusement.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I tried to explain.”

“Sure.” His mouth curved slightly. “You know, I told my grandfather about that.”

Your head snapped toward him.

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“And what did he say?”

Jimin shrugged.

“He thought it was funny.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s not funny.”

“No” he agreed lightly. “It’s pathetic.”

The insult stung more than you expected.

“You’re being rude, Jimin.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

He pushed himself upright, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“Well” he said as he started walking away “at least I’m consistent.”

The encounters didn’t stop there. If anything, they became more frequent.

Jimin had always been mischievous but now his attention carried a sharper edge and without his support, you were unbearably alone.

When you raised your hand to answer a question in class, he would mutter something just loud enough for the surrounding students to hear.

“Careful, guys” he’d say. “She might cry if the answer’s wrong.”

When you joined a group game during gym, he would conveniently end up on the opposite team.

“You probably shouldn’t run” he told you once, blocking your path with an easy smile. “Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself. You know that you’re not very sporty.”

You shoved past him.

“Move.”

“Oh” he said brightly, “she bites now.”

You learned quickly that reacting only encouraged him.

But ignoring Jimin Park had always been difficult, even when he was infuriating. Especially then.

One afternoon during recess, you were sitting under the large oak tree near the edge of the field when a shadow fell across your book. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly.

Jimin crouched down in front of you, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s new.”

He ignored the comment.

“If your parents are so worried about us being friends, maybe they’re right.”

You glanced up.

“What does that mean?”

“It means maybe you’re not worth the trouble.”

Your jaw tightened.

“Then why do you keep bothering me?”

Jimin tilted his head slightly, studying your face. The silence stretched long enough that you wondered if he was going to answer at all. Finally he smiled.

“Because it’s fun.”

The words were light but something about the way he said them made your chest feel tight.

“You’re cruel,” you said quietly.

“Aww”

Then he reached forward and tugged sharply on one of your pigtails. The sudden sting made you yelp, your face screwing up as you tried to push back the incoming tears.

Jimin laughed as he straightened.

“You should wear your hair down” he said. “This is too easy.”

“Just leave me alone.”

His smile lingered for a moment longer before fading into something unreadable.

“Maybe I will” he said.

But he didn’t. Because even when he mocked you or stole your pencils or made snide remarks loud enough for half the classroom to hear, Jimin never let anyone else do the same.

One boy had tried once. The result was a black eye and a week-long suspension for Jimin. When the teacher had asked what happened, he only shrugged. “Tripped” he had said.

You heard about it later from someone else. You didn’t thank him but the warmth in your heart that you had carried only for him, since you were eight, even when his childish cruelty made you sob quietly in the washroom stalls, only burned brighter.

You argued more than you spoke normally, sometimes the insults were sharp enough to draw blood. But there were also moments when the old Jimin slipped through. Like the day you forgot your lunch and found a familiar packet of cookies sitting quietly on your desk during class. Or the time you tripped on the stairs and he grabbed your arm before you could fall, only to immediately shove you away afterward and mutter something about clumsiness.

Neither of you acknowledged those moments.

Then, during the summer before eighth grade, your parents made another decision.

“You’re transferring schools next semester” your father announced casually.

You looked up from your plate.

“What?”

“A boarding school” your mother clarified gently. “It’s one of the best in the country.”

“But my school is fine.”

Your father exchanged a look with your mother.

“This will be better for your future.”

“You’re sending me away because of him” you realized.

Your father didn’t deny it.

“It removes unnecessary complications.”

Your chest tightened.

“That’s stupid.”

“Y/N-”

“I already stopped being friends with him!”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

Your father’s voice hardened slightly.

“The point is that you need to grow up and focus on your studies.”

You wanted to argue and to scream but deep down you knew the decision had already been made, like all the decisions before this.

And two weeks later, you packed your bags.

The last day before you left, you saw Jimin standing near the school gates after class. He leaned against the fence with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, looking like he had been there for a while. You almost walked past him.

“I’m leaving” you said.

Jimin didn’t move.

“Yeah” he replied quietly. “I heard.”

“Boarding school.”

“Sounds fancy. You must be happy.”

You sighed. No matter how much you might hope for it, the boy you thought was your best friend, your confidant, the boy whose eyes and innocent smile made your childish heart skip beats, just couldn’t be found anymore.

Finally you shifted awkwardly.

“Well then, goodbye.”

Jimin’s head lifted slightly as something flickered in his eyes.

“Goodbye?” he repeated.

You swallowed.

“What else am I supposed to say?”

He studied your face for a long moment. Then he laughed softly.

“You always were dramatic.”

The familiar mockery should have been comforting. Instead it felt hollow.

“I guess I’ll see you around” you said.

He didn’t reply. You hesitated. For a moment you almost apologized.

Then you remembered the months of teasing, the constant insults, the way he had made school feel like a battlefield. So you didn’t.

You turned and walked away instead, hoping against hope that he might stop you, or just wish you goodbye once so you could hold the hand of the only boy you had ever loved in your young life. But nothing like that happened. Jimin watched you go.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Boarding school forced you to rebuild your life faster than you would have liked. The first few months were awkward and lonely in the quiet, suffocating way that comes from realizing nobody around you knows who you used to be. No childhood routines. No familiar faces. Just long hallways, strict schedules and the constant expectation that you would adjust.

Eventually, you did. Mostly because of Kelly. She arrived halfway through your first semester with the sort of personality that refused to be ignored, friendly in a way that made resistance pointless. Within a week she had decided you were her person and within a month the rest of the dorm seemed to accept that the two of you operated as a unit.

Kelly talked enough for both of you. She filled silences easily, dragged you into social situations you normally would have avoided and somehow made the sterile atmosphere of the academy feel almost bearable. More importantly, she never asked about the strange gaps in your stories. When people reminisced about childhood friends or hometown memories, you simply changed the subject. It wasn’t difficult. The truth was that you had spent a long time deliberately not thinking about Jimin. At first, the anger had made that easy. Memories of his smirking face in the hallway or the relentless teasing during class had been enough to convince yourself that cutting him out of your life had been the right decision. You had repeated that logic often enough that eventually it started sounding believable. The crush you had harbored on him despite his cruel nagging started feeling stupid and hazy and anger took its place.

Time helped too. Three years was a long time when you were young. Long enough for old friendships to fade into something hazy and distant.

By the time you and Kelly graduated and moved to the city together for university, Park Jimin had become little more than an unpleasant chapter you rarely revisited.

Which was why you didn’t think twice when Kelly burst into your apartment one evening with a grin that practically split her face in half.

“You have to meet him” she announced, dropping her bag onto the couch.

You looked up from your laptop with mild suspicion.

“Meet who?”

“My boyfriend.”

You blinked.

“Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

“Since two months ago.”

“And you’re telling me now?”

Kelly flopped dramatically into the armchair across from you.

“Because I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a disaster first.”

You snorted.

“That’s optimistic. What’s so special about this one, then?”

“He’s different.”

“They always are.”

Kelly pointed a finger at you accusingly.

“You’re being negative.”

“I’m just being realistic.”

“You’ll like him, I’m sure.”

“That’s exactly what you said about the wannabe finance bro who tried to explain investment portfolios to us during brunch.”

Kelly waved the comment away impatiently.

“Jimin is not like that.”

The name barely registered at first. It was common enough that your brain didn’t immediately attach meaning to it.

“Oh?” you said absently. “What’s he like?”

Kelly leaned back with a dreamy smile.

“Kind of an asshole, honestly.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile splitting your face.

“That’s a selling point?”

“But in a charming way” she insisted. “You know the type. Sarcastic, confident, a little mean but funny enough that you can’t really be mad about it.”

Something in your chest shifted faintly, though you couldn’t immediately explain why.

“And you like this man?” you asked.

“Unfortunately.”

You shook your head.

“You have terrible taste. It has been proven time and again.”

“He’s also ridiculously attractive.”

“Ah” you said as you snorted “Now we’re getting to the real reason.”

Kelly grabbed a pillow and threw it at you.

“Just come to dinner tonight.”

You caught the pillow and tossed it back.

“I already have plans.”

“With who?”

You hesitated.

“…Myself.”

“Cancel them. Please, for me.”

“I’m not cancelling my evening alone because you’re in love with a jerk.”

“You’re not cancelling” Kelly corrected. “You’re upgrading. Besides, you should go out a little. Socialize, talk to a few guys. How in the world would you ever get a boyfriend if you continue this? It’s not like men are queuing up around the block for a girl who never leaves home.”

You stared at her for a moment before sighing, a small twinge pinching your heart at the constant reminder of your perpetually single status. You knew Kelly didn’t mean it in an insulting way.

“Fine.”

She clapped excitedly.

“Great. We’re meeting him at that bar on Sixth.”

You closed your laptop.

“If he’s insufferable, I’m leaving early.”

“He’s not insufferable.”

You gave her a skeptical look.

“You literally described him as an asshole.”

“A charismatic asshole.”

“That’s worse.”

Kelly just laughed.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bar was loud in the comfortable way that came with a busy Friday night, music humming through the walls, conversation spilling over from crowded tables, the soft clink of glasses behind the counter.

You spotted Kelly immediately.

She was already sitting in a booth near the back, waving enthusiastically when she saw you. And someone else was sitting across from her. For a moment you only noticed the posture first. Relaxed and leaning back slightly in the booth like the entire room was his.

Then he turned his head.

Shaggy blonde hair fell loosely across his forehead, longer than it had been when you were children. The cut was deliberately careless, giving him a slightly rebellious edge that matched the dark jacket slung over the back of his chair. As he turned, the sharp line of his jaw, contrasted by the plump shape of his lips that were pulled into a knowing smile made your face heat up and your heart pump erratically in your chest. And his eyes. Oh, those pools of obsidian, so predator- like in their feline shape. Cruel in the exact same way you remembered.

Park Jimin’s eyes met yours across the bar. He didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked entertained.

Kelly stood up eagerly. “There you are!”

Your feet carried you forward automatically, though every instinct in your body screamed that something had just gone very, very wrong.

“Y/N,” Kelly said brightly, “this is my boyfriend.”

Jimin’s gaze never left your face. His smile widened slowly, like someone savoring a private joke.

“Jimin,” Kelly finished happily.

You stared at him.

He looked older, obviously, with a sharper jawline, broader shoulders, confidence worn like a second skin but the essence of him was exactly the same. Dangerously self-assured.

Jimin tilted his head slightly as you approached the table and sat down on the furthest possible chair from him to avoid his penetrating gaze.

“Well” he said smoothly.

His voice had deepened over the years but the tone was unmistakable.

“That’s a familiar face.”

Kelly glanced between you both.

“You two know each other?”

You opened your mouth.

Before you could answer, Jimin spoke first.

“Oh, we go way back.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach tighten. Meanwhile, Kelly looked delighted.

“Seriously? That’s crazy.”

Jimin’s eyes flicked over you slowly, deliberately after giving Kelly a smirk.

“You’ve changed, Y/N” he said.

You folded your arms.

“You haven’t.”

His grin sharpened, almost baring his teeth as his eyes flicked over your face cruelly as if cataloguing for the faults in your visage.

Kelly laughed nervously.

“Okay, I feel like I’m missing context.”

Jimin leaned his elbow on the table, still watching you with unsettling focus.

“We were childhood friends,” he explained lightly.

You let out a short, humorless laugh.

“That’s one way to describe it.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“Not the way you’d choose?”

“I’d say something closer to ‘childhood menace.’”

Kelly looked between you both with growing fascination.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You two hate each other.”

Jimin’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Hate is a strong word.”

You met his eyes coolly.

“Not strong enough.”

For a moment the tension between you was almost tangible. Then Jimin leaned back in the booth with a quiet chuckle, his dark blue shirt pulling at his chest, affording you a view of the lean muscles of his chest. You gulped as your eyes flickered away.

“Well,” he said casually, “this should make things interesting.”

Dinner that night should have been uncomfortable. Instead, it became something worse. Jimin had always been the kind of person who thrived in chaos and the moment he realized exactly how awkward the situation was, he settled into it with the easy confidence of someone who had just been handed an extremely entertaining toy.

Kelly, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents running between the two of you, spent the first ten minutes enthusiastically filling the silence.

“So you guys went to school together?” she asked, glancing between you.

Jimin rested his chin lightly on his hand, his gaze still fixed on you with unsettling patience.

“Something like that.”

You picked up your drink, deliberately avoiding his eyes.

“We survived the same building, at least I did. Jimin here was too busy trying to make sure that I didn’t.” you corrected.

Kelly laughed.

“That sounds dramatic.”

Jimin’s smile tilted.

“She’s always been dramatic. Trying to make everything bigger than it really is. I don’t remember any such antagonistic feelings between us. Maybe my memory of you is just hazy, Y/N.”

You scoffed quietly as he tried to deliberately downplay your relationship, smirking at you cheekily.

“You used to pull girls’ hair and call them dramatic when they got mad.”

Kelly looked delighted.

“Oh my god, really?”

“Constantly” you said, taking a sip of the drink that had already been ordered before you had arrived. It was your favorite. Kelly remembered that for once.

Jimin didn’t look remotely embarrassed.

“I was ten.”

“You were annoying.”

“And you were easy to annoy. Always so stuck up and allergic to fun. Has she become any better?” He laughed, putting an arm behind Kelly’s chair as he peered at her, egging Kelly on in an attempt to humiliate you. Kelly merely let out an uncomfortable snort.

Dinner continued like that for a while.

Kelly talked. You responded politely. Jimin watched.

It became increasingly difficult not to notice the way his attention kept drifting back to you. The subtle, almost lazy glances that lingered just a second longer than necessary.

When Kelly reached for his hand across the table, he allowed it without hesitation. But his gaze never left your face. You felt it every time.

By the end of the meal, your patience was wearing dangerously thin.

“So,” Kelly said cheerfully as the waiter cleared the plates and accepted Jimin’s card that he so graciously forwarded before the two of you could say anything, “we should all hang out sometime. The three of us.”

You immediately shook your head, “I’m busy.”

Jimin chuckled softly.

“You didn’t even ask when.”

“I don’t need to.”

Kelly rolled her eyes.

“You’re being rude.”

“I’m being honest. I need to work hard this semester if I want to land an internship.”

Jimin leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I missed this.”

You looked at him sharply.

“Missed what?”

“This charming personality of yours.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not for you.”

“Really?” he asked mildly, an eyebrow hitching.

Something about the question made your stomach tighten. Kelly sighed.

“You two are exhausting.”

“Then stop inviting him places” you suggested.

Jimin’s smile widened slowly.

“Good luck with that.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately, he was right. Over the next few weeks, Park Jimin began appearing in your life with irritating consistency.

It started innocently enough.

Kelly inviting you both to brunch. A movie night. Drinks after class. At first, you assumed it was a coincidence.

Then you started noticing patterns. If Kelly suggested meeting somewhere, Jimin would already know the place. If you mentioned plans in passing, somehow he ended up nearby. Even when the two of you, Kelly and you, would make plans to hang out sans Jimin, he would inevitably show up to annoy you.

Once would have been chance.

Three times felt suspicious.

By the fifth time, it felt deliberate.

You were leaving the campus library late one evening when you spotted him leaning against the hood of a black sports car parked across the street.

Your steps slowed.

Jimin glanced up as if he had been expecting you. His mouth curved into a familiar smirk.

“Well,” he said as you approached, “look who it is.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“Why are you here?”

“Kelly mentioned you were studying.”

“That was four hours ago.”

He shrugged.

“I had time.”

Something about that answer made irritation spark immediately.

“You waited four hours?”

“Don’t sound so flattered.”

“I’m not flattered. I’m confused.”

Jimin pushed himself off the hood of his car, hands sliding casually into the pockets of his tailored charcoal pants.

“Kelly wanted to grab dinner together.”

“She could have texted me.”

“She did.”

You checked your phone. There was a message you hadn’t seen. You looked back up at him suspiciously.

“You still didn’t need to wait.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“You’re being weird, you know that right?”

“I’ve been told.”

You stared at him for a moment longer.

“Where’s Kelly?”

“Running late.”

“So it’s just us?”

“For now.”

You exhaled slowly.

“Fantastic.”

Jimin studied your expression with quiet amusement.

“You’re still holding a grudge.”

“You were insufferable for two years.”

“You deserved most of it.”

Your jaw tightened and you looked away from his face. The street lights casted a yellow so pale on his face that his skin looked almost luminescent, eyes glowing as they dug into yours.

There was a brief pause. Then he tilted his head slightly.

“You cut your hair.”

You blinked.

“…What?”

“It used to be longer.”

The comment caught you off guard.

“How would you know that?”

Jimin shrugged lightly.

“I notice things.”

The answer felt oddly vague but before you could press further, Kelly’s voice called from across the street.

“Sorry! Traffic was awful!”

She hurried toward you both, slightly out of breath.

Jimin stepped back easily as she reached them. You realised how close the two of you had been standing, him with one of his hands on his car and the other inside his pocket as he bent towards you, your faces close together. Your heart was thundering.

“Miss us?” he asked.

“Obviously” she replied, slipping her arm through his.

The movement should have looked natural instead it felt strangely performative. He glanced at you briefly. Just long enough for you to see the quiet amusement in his eyes.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over time, the pattern became undeniable.

Jimin didn’t just tolerate your presence. He seemed to seek it out. If Kelly invited you somewhere, he made sure he came along. If you declined plans, he conveniently had some work come up. In front of your eyes, Jimin would be unbearably touchy, constantly putting his arm around Kelly’s shoulders and caressing her face. It was irritating but you bore it for your friend’s sake. However, stranger still was your friend’s confession that Jimin had yet to kiss her. When you asked what was stopping him, Kelly looked uncharacteristically abashed and murmured that he was old fashioned and wanted to wait. It was a strange contrast. Nevertheless, this PDA in front of you (sans the kissing), never stopped.

Sometimes he provoked you directly. Other times he simply observed. It was subtle enough that Kelly never noticed but you did.

One evening during drinks, Kelly excused herself to take a phone call outside, leaving the two of you alone at the table.

You didn’t bother pretending politeness.

“Alright,” you said flatly.

Jimin lifted an eyebrow, his hand coming up to gently caress his lower lip, the silver ring on his thumb and the watch on his wrist catching the strobing lights.

“Alright what?”

“What are you doing?”

“Drinking.”

“You know what I mean.”

His lips curved faintly.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“You hate me.”

“That’s a strong word.”

“You bullied me for two years.”

“And you abandoned me first.”

“That was years ago.”

“Time flies.”

You leaned forward slightly.

“Then why are you constantly around me now? And what are you doing with Kelly? ”

Jimin studied you quietly for a moment. There was something unsettling about the calm focus in his eyes. Finally he smiled.

“You give me something to do.”

He ignored the latter part of your question completely. Your expression darkened.

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

Kelly returned before you could respond.

The conversation ended there but the tension didn’t because deep down, a quiet suspicion had begun forming in the back of your mind. Jimin’s behavior wasn’t just annoying. It was intentional.

And the way he watched you sometimes, too attentive, too patient, felt less like coincidence and more like someone slowly tightening invisible strings. You just hadn’t figured out why yet.

Jimin, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to let the game continue. And judging by the faint, cruel satisfaction in his smile whenever you snapped at him he was enjoying every second of it.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The club had been Kelly’s idea. Your semester exams were finally over and the reprieve from the academic pressure made you give in to her demand, even knowing your nemesis would surely be coming along.

It was loud in the kind of deliberate way that made conversation difficult and bad decisions easier. Music pulsed through the walls and floor alike, bass vibrating through your ribs as people crowded the dance floor beneath flashing lights.

You normally avoided places like this but tonight you had made an exception.

Kelly was already halfway through her second drink when she leaned across the table with a grin.

“I swear,” she said over the music, “you’ve been in a bad mood for weeks. We’re fixing that tonight.”

“I’m not in a bad mood” you replied.

She gave you a look that suggested she didn’t believe you for a second.

“Really? Because you’ve been snapping at everyone lately. Especially Jimin.”

At the mention of his name, your gaze shifted automatically across the room. He was standing near the bar with one hand resting casually on the counter, talking to someone you didn’t recognize. Even from a distance he looked completely at ease with his dark leather jacket pushed back slightly, shaggy blonde hair falling over his eyes as he leaned in to hear his companion.

As if sensing your attention, Jimin glanced up and your eyes met across the crowded room.

For a brief moment the noise seemed to fade behind the weight of his stare. Then his mouth curved into that familiar, infuriating smile. You looked away immediately. Kelly followed your gaze.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I think you two secretly enjoy hating each other.”

“That sentence doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does if you’ve watched the way you argue.”

“We don’t argue.”

“You absolutely do. Like two siblings constantly at each other’s throats.”

You picked up your drink, an unknown guilt suffusing your chest at her words.

“He antagonizes me, that’s all.”

Kelly laughed.

“And you antagonize him right back.”

“Because he deserves it. Prick.”

Kelly leaned back in her chair, sighing.

“You’re both exhausting.”

You took a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the lingering awareness of Jimin somewhere behind you.

It didn’t help. Because even without looking, you could feel his attention like a physical weight.

After another few minutes, Kelly’s phone buzzed. She glanced down and groaned. Her journalism internship demanded all sorts of odd hours.

“Ugh. I have to take this.”

“Work?”

“Unfortunately.”

She stood, already heading toward the quieter hallway near the bathrooms.

“Don’t disappear on me” she warned.

“I won’t.”

The moment she left, the table felt strangely emptier.

You waited a few seconds before standing. Sitting alone felt awkward and the music was loud enough that dancing seemed like the easier distraction. The dance floor was crowded but energetic, bodies moving under shifting lights as the DJ changed songs.

You pushed your way into the center, letting the music drown out your thoughts. For a few minutes, it worked. Then someone tapped your shoulder.

You turned to see a tall guy with dark hair and a friendly smile.

“Hey,” he said, raising his voice slightly over the music. “You looked like you were dancing alone.”

“I was, yeah.”

“Mind if I fix that?”

You considered it briefly, your intoxicated brain considering the prospect. Then shrugged.

“Sure.”

He introduced himself though the name disappeared almost immediately under the music and you both moved with the rhythm of the crowd. It was harmless. The kind of meaningless interaction that usually faded from memory by morning. As his eyes lightly fell on your hips, you sashayed to the beat.

You didn’t notice Jimin until it was too late.

He had been watching from the edge of the floor for several minutes.

At first he simply observed. The way the stranger’s hand settled lightly on your waist. The way you laughed at something he said. The easy closeness of two people sharing a moment that had nothing to do with him.

Jimin’s expression remained calm but the longer he watched, the tighter his jaw became. Something dark and sharp twisted slowly in his chest. It wasn’t jealousy in the usual sense. It was something far more possessive, something that had been simmering quietly for years, something that was made crueler and darker by your callous abandonment of him, twice.

By the time the stranger’s hand slid slightly lower on your waist, Jimin had already made his decision.

He stepped onto the dance floor. The crowd shifted instinctively as he pushed through, his gaze locked firmly on the two of you. You didn’t notice him until a hand closed firmly around the stranger’s shoulder. The man turned, confused.

“Hey-”

The crack of the gunshot cut through the music like lightning. For a moment nobody moved. The sound echoed through the club as the bullet struck the ceiling above the dance floor, plaster raining down onto startled bodies below. Screams followed immediately after and music stopped abruptly. People began pushing toward the exits in sudden panic.

You stood frozen as Jimin lowered the handgun casually back to his side.

His eyes were burning, chest heaving as he ground down his teeth.

The stranger beside you stared in shock.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded.

Jimin didn’t answer. Instead he reached for the bottle sitting on a nearby table. The movement was so quick the man barely had time to react. Glass shattered against the side of his head with a brutal crack. The stranger collapsed instantly.

You stumbled back, heart hammering. The haze of vodka was finally clearing though not fast enough for you to run away from him like a bat out of hell.

“Jimin, what the hell are you doing?”

His gaze snapped toward you and the fury there was terrifying.

“What am I doing?” he repeated quietly, his eyes burning into yours.

“You just assaulted someone!”

Jimin stepped closer, the broken bottle still clutched loosely in his hand.

“You let him touch you.”

Your disbelief flared into anger.

“Excuse me?”

His voice dropped dangerously low.

“I was watching him all night. The way he kept looking at you. The way he thought he could just walk up and put his hands on you like that.”

“You’re insane.”

“Am I?”

“Yes!”

People were still scrambling toward the exits around you, the chaos building with every second. Jimin didn’t seem to notice. His entire focus was fixed on you.

“You think I’m insane,” he said slowly, “but you were the one standing there smiling while some stranger felt you up in the middle of a club.”

“He was dancing with me!”

“And that makes it acceptable?”

“It’s none of your business!”

Jimin laughed sharply.

“You really believe that?”

“Yes!”

The tension between you snapped.

“You’re dating my best friend!” you shouted.

His smile was cold. “That’s interesting.”

You stared at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Jimin stepped closer again.

“You know what I find funny?” he said softly. “The fact that after all these years, you still act like you don’t understand the situation.”

“What situation?”

“This one.”

He gestured lazily between the two of you.

Your anger sharpened.

“You pulled a gun in a crowded club because I danced with someone.”

“You let him touch you.”

“You’re not my boyfriend! In fact, you are not even my friend. You are nobody to me. You don’t get to decide anything for me!”

Jimin’s expression darkened further.

“No,” he said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean you belong to anyone else.”

The possessiveness in his tone sent a chill down your spine.

“You’ve lost your mind. You really have.” You said, finally moving away from him as the gravity of the situation sunk in. His gaze followed you like a hunter carefully tracking a prey animal.

“Maybe.”

Your patience finally snapped.

“Listen carefully, Jimin, because I’m only going to say this once.”

You stepped closer, your voice dropping to a dangerously calm level.

“You don’t get to control me. Not now. Not ever. Whatever weird obsession you’ve built up in your head does not give you the right to dictate who I talk to or who I dance with.”

For a brief moment, something like amusement flickered in his eyes.

“You think this is about control?”

“What else would it be?”

Jimin leaned down slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear it.

“It’s about the fact that you’ve been walking around for weeks pretending you don’t notice what’s happening.”

Your stomach tightened. “I notice that you’re an asshole.”

He chuckled quietly.

“You’ve always been good at avoiding the obvious.”

“And what exactly is ‘the obvious’?”

His eyes searched your face with unsettling intensity.

“The obvious,” he murmured, “is that I’ve spent years making sure you never forget I exist.”

Before you could respond, the distant wail of sirens cut through the chaos. Jimin glanced toward the entrance. Then he smiled again.

“Perfect timing.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“What did you do?”

He looked back at you.

“I called the police.”

For a moment you simply stared at him.

“You shot a gun in a club… and then called the police on yourself?”

“Not exactly.”

Understanding dawned slowly.

“You reported the club.”

“Anonymous tip” he confirmed casually.

You felt vaguely nauseous at the chaos that had inundated your life and opened your mouth to say somehting.

“Relax,” he interrupted. “They’ll shut the place down for the night. No big deal.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

The sound of approaching police cars grew louder outside. Jimin grabbed your wrist.

“Come on.”

You jerked your arm back.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You can stay if you want,” he said calmly. “But when the police start asking questions about who fired the gun, things might get complicated.”

Your stomach dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

His expression was almost innocent. “Wouldn’t what?”

“You’d drag my family into this?”

Jimin’s smile returned slowly.

“Your father’s entire campaign revolves around public image. Imagine how interesting the headlines would be if his daughter got caught up in a nightclub shooting. And, remind me again, where is the petty princess who would dump anyone to be in her family’s good graces?” He looked around theatrically before grabbing your arm and pulling you close to his chest as he exclaimed, “There she is!”

Your pulse spiked. “You’re a psychopath.”

You only got a cruel smile in return before he began dragging you towards the exit, his hand clutching your arm in a vice grip. Throwing you inside his car with a cruel carelessness, he shut the door with a bang. The engine roared to life.

As the police flooded into the club behind you, Jimin sped into the night. The city lights blurred past in streaks of neon and shadow as the car tore through empty streets. He didn’t slow down until you were miles away.

When he finally stopped in an empty overlook above the city, you shoved yourself out of the car immediately.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded.

Jimin moved out to stand in front of you calmly. “You’re welcome.”

“For what? Are you serious?”

“For getting you out of there before things got messy.”

“You caused the mess!”

“Yes,” he agreed easily. The casual admission made your blood boil.

“You assaulted someone, fired a gun in public, blackmailed me, and now you’re acting like you did me a favor.”

Jimin stepped closer. “You’re missing the important part.”

“And what part is that?” You seethed.

His gaze darkened. “You were dancing with someone else.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“Shut up! That’s your takeaway from this entire situation?”

“It’s the only part that mattered.”

Your temper finally exploded.

“You don’t get to decide what matters in my life! You’re nobody to me, understand? You were dead to me the moment I left you in the dust back then!”

Jimin grabbed your face suddenly and kissed you. The force of it knocked the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle. It was rough, demanding, almost violent in its intensity. One of his hands held your jaw in a tight, bruising grip as the other held your hands beneath your back. The force of his mouth against yours pushed you back two steps and you stumbled as you felt the hood of his car behind you.

Growling against your mouth, his chest knocked you backwards, forcing you to collapse onto the hood. You lay under him, your lips being punished by his as he sucked at your mouth, nibbled at your bottom lip and tried to gain entry into your mouth. A particularly hard nibble at your top lip forced your lips open as you tried to gasp for breath before he pushed his tongue inside your mouth, the lack of breath and the shock of his warm tongue ticking all over the inside of the warm cavern of your mouth, made you lightheaded. As he tried to pull your tongue into his wet mouth to suck it between his lips, a soft wail left you. He shuddered in response, his chest heaving as he moaned at your taste. His hand, which had been holding two of yours in a strong hold, left to run up your sides.

Shock froze you for half a second. Then your hand cracked sharply across his face. The sound echoed in the quiet night.

Jimin’s head turned slightly with the impact. Slowly, he looked back at you. Instead of anger, a strange satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

“You always did hit hard,” he murmured.

Your voice shook with fury. “You’re insane if you think that was acceptable.”

“I could get a psych evaluation, if you’d like.”

“And Kelly-” Your voice wobbled. He stared at the tears running down your face, his eyes softening at the guilt coating your voice.

“Kelly and I are done, princess.”

The words stopped you cold. “What?”

“I broke up with her.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

You stared at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jimin shrugged lightly, “She served her purpose.”

The casual cruelty in his tone made your stomach twist.

“You used her.”

“I needed a way back into your life.”

Your anger faltered briefly.

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin stepped closer again, his expression dark and unwavering.

“You think it’s a coincidence that I started dating your best friend?”

Realization crept slowly up your spine.

“That’s… that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m really not.”

He leaned down slightly, his voice quiet but deadly certain.

“You left me, Y/N. Not once, twice. Do you have any idea what I felt back then? How I felt when the girl who was the center of my universe left me to start her life over without me? You’re so cruel, you have always been. And I am the fucking idiot who cannot get over you. Your name is threaded into my heart, it runs in my blood. No fucking power on Earth can take you away from me again, not your family and certainly not you. You don’t get to leave me again, you dont!” He shouted, shaking slightly as his manic eyes bored into yours.

“I spent years making sure the next time you walked back into my life, you wouldn’t be able to leave again.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

Jimin smiled, his eyes wild.

“Oh,” he said softly.

“I think I do.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week after the club incident, Park Jimin walked into your family home like he had always belonged there.

At that exact moment, you were upstairs in your bedroom, attempting to focus on a stack of notes that had remained untouched for the last twenty minutes. Your concentration had been terrible lately. Not surprising, considering the chaos of the previous week.

Kelly still hadn’t spoken to you properly. Guilt gnawed at you every time your friend declined your call and the feeling of shame held you in even deeper grip when you unconsciously found yourself caressing your lips as you thought about the bruising kiss. News outlets were buzzing about Park Yeoncheol’s sudden retirement and the equally sudden rise of his grandson as the party’s new face. Your father had spent several evenings in tense phone calls with advisors, strategists and donors.

Politics never slowed down in this house but today felt different. You heard the staff downstairs making a lot more noise than usual. The quiet but urgent shift in tone that always happened when an important guest arrived. Doors opening. Polite greetings. The sound of shoes against marble flooring in the main hall.

Then your father’s voice.

“Park Jimin.”

Your head lifted. For a moment you wondered if you had imagined it. But then you heard Jimin’s voice respond. Smooth, calm, unmistakably familiar as ever.

“Mr L/N.”

Your stomach dropped. You stood slowly, every instinct in your body suddenly alert. Curiosity got the better of you. The staircase overlooked the main sitting room below, separated only by a carved wooden railing that allowed sound to carry easily through the open space.

You moved quietly to the edge. Your father stood near the fireplace, posture formal but not unfriendly. And across from him was the man you had spent the last week thinking about, Jimin.

He looked completely comfortable standing in the middle of the home belonging to the man whose political career had spent decades opposing his own family.

“Your grandfather’s retirement came as a surprise” your father was saying.

Jimin inclined his head slightly.

“He believed the party needed someone younger to lead the next election cycle.”

“And that someone is you.”

“For now.”

There was a faint humility in the answer but you recognized it immediately for what it was. A performance. You scoffed.

Your father studied him carefully.

“You understand the history between our families.”

“Of course.”

“And yet you requested this meeting.”

Jimin’s hands rested loosely on top of his knees, posture casual despite the weight of the conversation.

“History doesn’t have to dictate the future.”

Then he said quietly, “You’re suggesting cooperation.”

“An alliance.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. That word carried serious implications.

“Why?” your father asked.

Jimin smiled faintly.

“Because the alternative is continuing a political feud that wastes resources on both sides.”

“And you think my supporters would accept that?”

“With the right reasoning.”

Your father crossed his arms. “And what reasoning would that be?”

Jimin’s gaze flicked briefly toward the staircase. For a split second, you thought he had noticed you. But then his attention returned to your father.

“Mutual benefit,” he said calmly.

The conversation continued for another several minutes with talks of strategy, elections, voter blocs. Jimin spoke like someone who had been preparing for this conversation long before it ever happened. He wasn’t nervous or even particularly cautious.

Your father wasn’t dismissing him. If anything, he seemed… interested and was nodding along to many suggestions while making his own opinions known.

Finally your father sighed.

“You’re ambitious but that’s a good thing. I like it in young people such as yourself.”

Jimin chuckled softly.

Then your father said thoughtfully, “Political alliances are easier when families are connected.”

Your stomach tightened.

Jimin didn’t hesitate. “I agree.”

Something about the tone of that answer made your pulse jump.

Your father nodded slowly.

The meeting ended not long after that. Your father walked him toward the front door while continuing the conversation about scheduling future discussions.

You slipped away from the railing before either of them could notice you. But you didn’t go far. Instead you waited in the long hallway that connected the main entrance to the garden doors. You heard footsteps approaching. Then Jimin appeared around the corner.

He stopped the moment he saw you. For a second neither of you spoke.

Then his mouth curved slowly, “Look who’s eavesdropping.”

You crossed your arms.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.”

Jimin didn’t look remotely bothered.

“It was a scheduled meeting.”

“You’re trying to manipulate my father.”

“I’m negotiating. It’s the nature of politics.”

“That’s not the same thing at all and you know it.”

He stepped closer.

“It is in politics.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“So that’s the plan?”

“What plan?”

“You insert yourself into my family’s political strategy and suddenly we’re all supposed to pretend the last twenty years didn’t happen?”

Jimin tilted his head slightly.

“Relax. I’m not here to destroy anything.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Jimin stepped closer again.

“You heard the conversation.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And you’re trying to trap my father into a political alliance.”

He smiled slightly.

“Not just your father.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m going along with that.”

Jimin’s gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes.

“I don’t need you to go along with it.”

“Then what exactly do you need?”

His voice lowered slightly.

“You. Always have and always will.”

Your pulse jumped. Jimin stepped into your space suddenly. In retaliation, you grabbed the front of his suit jacket and pulled him down into a kiss. It was just as angry as the one the week before. You poured weeks of frustration and tension into his mouth. Jimin’s hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you there as the kiss deepened into something rougher.

When you finally shoved him back, both of you were breathing harder.

“You’re still a manipulative bastard,” you said.

Jimin wiped his lip slowly, eyes dark with quiet satisfaction.

“Nice to see you here, grocery shopping?”

“Great to see you too. Yep, just picking up some ingredients for jjajangmyeon,” you peer over his shopping cart and see many bottles of isotonic and mineral water, “great effort to maintain hydration there.”

He laughs and shows his cart proudly, “it’s for the guys, we’re playing soccer against the Engineering Department tonight, please send your prayer for us, we need all the support there is.”

“Ooff, Engineering Department guys sound legit.”

“They are, hopefully our Jungkookie can save the day, he’s the best striker we have had since forever.”

“Oh, Jungkook’s playing?”

“Yeah, speaking of Jungkook though, did he… uh,” Taehyung scratches the back of his head,, “did he say anything to you?”

You’re a little bit confused, because Jungkook did say a lot of things within the span of time after you met Taehyung.

“I’m sorry… about what?”

Taehyung can guess that Jungkook must have not said anything to you from your puzzled expression. He also hasn’t had the time to ask Jungkook directly, and was planning to follow up to his junior after the soccer game later tonight.

“Uh, well,” Taehyung decides to just take his shot, “I asked Jungkook for your number, but he said he wanted to ask you first, which I understood, because I wouldn’t want my friends to give around my number just to anyone.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, so…”

“Must have slipped his mind or something, uhm, let me put it in your phone?” you offer, because there’s no reason you can find to turn down Taehyung’s advances. It’s not like you have to consider someone else’s feelings… or should you? Because you don’t think Jungkook is the type of person who easily forgets this kind of thing.

Is it your wishful thinking though? 

“Thanks!” Taehyung says when you return his phone back, “maybe I can take you out to one of the places I told you some time?”

You just nod tentatively, “aren’t those kid friendly places?”

“Yeah, I mean I don’t mind taking you and your daughter out if it’s too troublesome for you to find someone to look after her. We can make it a family-friendly date,” he answers with a boyish grin, which somehow does not make his face less handsome. 

This is something you should be excited about. An attractive man offering to take you out on a date and clearly very considerate because he even let your kid tag along if you couldn’t find a sitter. 

But all you can think about as you nod politely again is whether there is a possibility that Jungkook is gatekeeping you on purpose.

“So… I’ll see you around, Y/N?”

“Yeah, see you,” and as Taehyung turns his way, you call out to him again, “hey Tae, good luck on the game and… tell Jungkook I said hi?”

Somehow there’s a difference in the way Taehyung smiles at you. As if he’s acknowledging something while giving you a salute before walking in the opposite direction.

But the worry doesn’t stay too long on your mind. You need to finish up shopping because on weekdays you always try to get home as soon as you can, considering Miyeon is waiting for you at home.

Just as you found a seat inside the subway, a new message pops up on your phone screen.

[Jungkook]: checking whether you still have my number saved, because Tae just told me you said hi

[Jungkook]: hi to you too

[Jungkook]: (pic)

A smile blooms on your face, because not only is he cute, but why does he need to send a picture of himself visibly sweating, probably after a round of soccer.

[You]: well I accidentally bumped into him at the supermarket and he said you guys are playing soccer tonight, I just did what’s customary ;p

[You]: So did you guys defend yourself against the engineering guys?

[Jungkook]: barely. Will you still be cooking with me if we lose?

[You]: of course, consider it as a consolidation meal

[Jungkook]: lets see if I can turn it into victory meal on second round

[You]: I’ll add a dessert if you win

[Jungkook]: that’s enough motivation for me

You smile again, silently wishing for his good luck. For a second you think of asking him about what Taehyung had said earlier. But maybe it would be better to ask directly tomorrow. Probably then you can see his real reaction, whether he’s truly forgotten or… is there another reason? A reason that makes your heart race just by the thought of it.

But by Saturday afternoon, you are humbled by the fact that some plans are not meant to be realized. That life always throws a curveball whenever you think things are going smoothly–or maybe in your case when you’ve been very excited and look forward to it. 

You’ve already had a hunch when Seonho didn’t contact you at all until almost 3 PM. He always texts you whenever he’s on his way to pick up Miyeon. And somehow today, you kind of expected him to be late. 

What you didn’t expect though is for him to totally bail. At 4 PM he finally calls you, saying he still can’t leave work and probably can’t take Miyeon this weekend. Of course it’s not the first time. In the span of one year since the divorce, obviously there were times when you and Seonho could not keep up with your arranged schedule. So this should not be something that you can’t handle.

But apparently there is something different this time that makes you bothered beyond belief, yet at the same time, being bothered makes you feel very guilty. Because to think about being annoyed that your ex husband can’t take your daughter with him so that you can go to your ex boyfriend’s apartment sounds very wrong within your moral compass. You shouldn’t feel that way, it’s like betraying the very essence of motherhood. Nothing should be more important than the well-being of your child. 

However, you’re merely a human being with emotions. Sometimes we can’t regulate what we actually feel with what we should be feeling. This makes–not only your heart–your head ache.

[You]: I’m so sorry, I think we need a raincheck for tonight. Seonho couldn’t come, so I can’t leave Miyeon alone

[Jungkook]: It’s ok. Your daughter is more important. 

On the other side of the city, Jungkook types his reply earnestly. Because he can understand. But understanding doesn’t mean he’s not disappointed. Not with you, and especially not with your daughter, only with the fact that the plan he was looking forward to tonight could not be realized. He looks around his apartment and sighs, feeling more saddened because he just spent half a day cleaning and re-arranging the place. Not that it was a total wreckage in the first place, he always keeps his place tidy, but he did spend a dedicated time this afternoon to make sure everything is ‘in place’. No dirty clothes lying around, no game controller left abandoned on the sofa, mopping the floor twice to ensure no dirt and dust are left behind, and honestly, last night he even stopped by the store to buy a new slipper for you. 

Not that he counts the effort. Again, not at all. But the amount of disappointment he’s feeling right now makes him realize how much he really wants it.

He opens his text message to you once again, thumb hovering on screen, debating whether he wants to send another text to you. Even though he’s unsure what to say. All that he knows is just that he was prepared to be with you tonight. To enjoy your presence and company.

[Jungkook]: hey… was just wondering if it’s ok if maybe I go there instead? You’ve bought the groceries anyway, let’s make good use out of it. 

[Jungkook]: only if you’re comfortable

You didn’t think he’d ask that.

You didn’t think he would actually try to spend time with you even though the circumstances had changed. But it was surely a pleasant surprise when you received his texts. 

So when by 9PM you received another one informing he’s outside, you instantly get up from the couch and make your way to the front door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he scratches the back of his head and shyly smiles, “didn’t want to ring the doorbell, afraid it will wake somebody up.”

At first you were afraid he would perceive you differently when you said that you would love him to come but only after everyone’s asleep, but he assured you he understands. It’s not because you didn’t want him to meet Miyeon, but selfishly, you wanted this for yourself. This part of your life, this moment, with the man who looks too handsome for his own good at 9PM standing in your doorway with mussed hair and gentle smile. You want to preserve this moment for the single woman part of you, not the responsible daughter or mother. 

“Thank you for considering. Everyone’s asleep, I told my mom though that you’re coming, come on.”

Stepping aside, you give him a moment to take his shoes off and shrug his denim jacket aside. With a boyish grin, he presents you a plastic bag containing a box of fried chicken and two bottles of soju, as promised.

The next twenty minutes you spend in your kitchen, cooking the jajangmyeon while trying to maintain the laughs and giggles in minimum volume so as to not awaken your mother and Miyeon. You knew Jungkook likes to cook by himself, he told you several times, but what you didn’t know was how serious he is with it. 

The sound of knives against the cutting board and the scent of frying Chunjang (black bean paste) fill your kitchen. While you are focused on dicing some vegetables, Jungkook is busy stirring the sauce in front of the stove.

You glance at him and can’t help but smile seeing his eyebrows knit together in the middle while he’s all focused.

“How’s the sauce coming along, Kook?”

Jungkook looks up from the pan, eyes softening as they meet yours. His smile is comfortable, reassuring, “it’s perfect, come look.”

You lean in towards the stove, shoulder brushing with his firm one. The warmth from the stove and the warmth from him are suddenly one and the same.

“Wow, you’re really good at this, unless it’s packaged sauce, mine always looks like mud or asphalt.”

Jungkook lets out a low chuckle, his voice then sounds more encouraging when he explains, “it’s all in this first step. You have to roast the Chunjang in oil first to remove the raw and salty edge. It adds to the depth of the taste.”

Your breath hitches when he looks at you directly, “most instant recipes skip this, but if you wanted to make it properly, you can’t. That’s the difference between eating for survival and eating for pleasure. And honestly, I prefer pleasure.”

Why on earth he needs to add a wink after that last sentence is beyond you.

As if that act alone didn’t make your heart flutter, he then takes the wooden spoon from the simmering pot, dipping the tip of his index finger into the rich, dark Jajang sauce. The next moment feels like a slow-mo movie scene as he brings his finger to his mouth, tasting it with a focused intensity that makes your stomach clench involuntarily. You can tell he’s mouthing the word ‘perfect’ even though no sound is coming out from his lips. 

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he dips his finger again, coating the pad with the thick, savoury sauce. His focus turns to you, gaze lifting to meet yours in a quiet challenge. He doesn’t need to say a word to explain his next action as he moves his hand, the sauce-tipped finger closer to your lips. The air is charged, tension thickens with every thrum of your heartbeat when you tilt your head just a little bit, lips parting slightly to meet his finger halfway, eyes never leaving each other as you gently draw the sauce into your mouth with a soft, sensual press. His thumb grazes your chin lightly, as you taste the flavourful sauce, fingers ghosting over your jaw.

“How is it?” 

God, he really doesn’t need to whisper like that.

Your effort not to stutter fails miserably when you answer him, “g-good, delicious.”

“Yeah? Good enough for you?”

More than enough, you think. But the words don’t come out of your mouth. Instead, your eyes stray from his eyes to his lips, subtly glistening under the warm light of your kitchen. And the same thing happens to him, as you see his eyes drop to your lips. For a moment you feel like you just put on your noise cancelling headphones as everything goes silent. Your heartbeat thrums loudly, your palms sweaty as the distance grows closer and closer.

Unfortunately, things really don’t want to go your way that day. Because just when you’re about to close your eyes, Jungkook’s lips inches away from yours, your timer goes off, signalling the chicken reheating inside your oven should be done. 

Both of you jolt back in reflex, eyes darting everywhere as you regulate the increased beating of your heart. 

“Th-the chicken,” you murmur and Jungkook clears his throat, nodding a few times before searching for some gloves to take it out from the oven.

You move swiftly to turn off the stove, stirring the Jajang sauce one last time before preparing the noodles on a plate, “I think everything’s set?” trying your best to keep your voice steady even though you can still feel the heat of the previous moment in your cheeks and stomach.

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, moving the chicken from the pan to a serving dish you’ve prepared earlier, “where do you want to eat?”

Contemplating your choices, you scan the dining table quickly before eyeing the coffee table in the living room. The dining table should be more practical, but the coziness of sitting on the rug, backs against the couch while the television is playing something as a background noise seems much more inviting, especially to soothe whatever tension between you and Jungkook before.

“How about the living room? Is it okay for you?”

“Wherever you’re comfortable with, Y/N.”

So you nod once again and start making your way to the living room, two bowls of Jajangmyeon in your hands while Jungkook carries the chicken and beers. You go back to the kitchen to take out some fresh kimchi and utensils, all the while Jungkook is arranging the food and drinks on the table.

You spend the next 30 minutes lost in conversations and food. Bodies relaxing against the couch, bowls in one hand while the other holding onto chopsticks, picking out some banchans or chickens in between taking the noodles and slurping it into your mouth. Jungkook wasn’t kidding when he said that roasting the beans adds more depth into the sauce because holy hell, the taste is incredible.

“This is hands down one of the best Jajangmyeon I had in a while.”

“Yeah? You like it?” Jungkook asks while sipping his beer, clearly amused by your satisfied face.

“So much, I can eat this a whole week.”

“That’s gotta be excessive.”

“Says mister I can eat daechang everyday.”

Jungkook laughs, and his laugh is always infectious to you. Your body shakes with muffled laughter, still remembering how your mother and Miyeon are fast asleep upstairs. In the middle of it all, you catch Jungkook’s gaze upon you. You try to hold your eyes on him too, but alas, you’re not as strong as you think you are, because it doesn’t take a minute for you to look away with cheeks as warm as the bowl of freshly cooked jajangmyeon.

“What?” you finally ask when you find out he is still eyeing you in between sipping his beer.

“Just appreciating this.”

“What’s there to appreciate that original plan is completely u-turned?”

“I think it’s a blessing in disguise.”

You decide to take a gulp from your own beer can, oblivious to what should be a correct response to his remark. 

The TV is turned on and currently playing a random episode of How I Met Your Mother. A series you both decided to ‘watch’ when you started eating the food. But honestly, you haven’t paid attention to it the whole time. Not when the conversation flew easily, from the soccer match to random recipe hacks. 

And now, even the brush of his knees against yours on the rug feels amplified. 

“Thanks for letting me come by, and messing your kitchen up,” Jungkook adds, setting down his beer can on the table, his right arm resting upon the couch, fingers barely touching your elbow.

You shake your head, “thanks to you I get to eat a delicious meal, and free beers and chickens.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

You put your beer can on the table too, next to his, before resting your head on the couch. He finally finds a place for his fingers to brush over your hair.

“I like this,” his voice softened, eyes boring into yours.

“The food or…”

He chuckles, moving closer, “the food only complimenting it.”

“Me too then…” everything feels too good for you, full belly, warmth tingling sensation in your heart, every stroke of his hands, you absentmindedly move your head even closer to his palm. 

And Jungkook feels it. He can see the longing in your eyes. It matches his.

“You know… Taehyung asked about you.”

Oh, he finally told you about it. But why at this moment? 

“Hmm?”

You can see his hesitation for a second, but Jungkook is determined to clear it out with you first before anything.

“He asked for your number. He’s interested in you.”

You then hold your head up from the couch, “uhm… yeah, he mentioned it when I ran into him at the supermarket.”

“Yeah… so… that’s that…” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” he tries to counter.

“I mean, why not before?”

“Did you give him your number?”

“What would you prefer me to do, Kook?”

You can tell he is battling himself by the way he holds his word, teeth biting into his lower lip, eyebrows knitted in the middle of his forehead.

“I did give him my number,” you sigh, “I mean, I did it because he asked me whether you had mentioned it to me, which you didn’t, so I… just thought…”

Jungkook cups your chin in his hand, thumb gently brushing your cheek, “did he call you yet?”

“No.”

“Would you want him to?”

You close your eyes momentarily as your lips release another sigh from his gentle stroke, “I asked you that question first.”

“I…” another soft stroke and his thumb slowly descend to your lower lips, “can I kiss you?”

Opening your eyes, you nod your head before his lips finally claim yours. It’s tentative, exploring, but definitely different from your first kiss with him 15 years ago. 

He was your first kiss, but to think of it again, maybe it was just a peck. A brush of lips meeting lips in a few seconds until you both pulled away out of timidness and shyness. But now, it feels totally different. His lips slotting against yours deeper, his moves are more precise and experienced, making your whole body weak. 

It feels like a dam finally breaks with the way his hand moves to your nape, pulling you even closer if it’s possible as one of your legs already moved by itself over his thigh. Your heartbeat thrums loudly making your palms sweaty but dear God you wish the time stands still. If there are moments you want to freeze in time and memory, this certainly is one of them. 

For a few seconds all you can hear is just wet sounds of your lips locking, a few whimpers from you and breathy exhales from him. You can feel his hesitance as his hands travel around your body, never really putting it on places you wish he would. 

So, you do the most logical thing, take his free hand–not the one which is currently holding the back of your head, moving you gently the way he wants to devour your lips–and put it somewhere that matters.

“Fuck,” he mutters as your hand guide his to your ass.

Soon you realize that your decision wasn’t a good one. Because the moment his hand squeezes your ass, pulling your body even closer to his, you let out a loud moan which makes you realize that you are still in your living room downstairs while your daughter and mother are currently asleep upstairs.

Suddenly you’re hyper aware of every little sound in your house, worrying that someone might have woken up. You try to resist his kisses, try to put your hands on his hard chest while he’s still lost in you, licking your lips asking for entrance. 

And you’re just a weak woman for Jungkook. Because you obey, separating your lips to let his tongue wander further. Whimpers of hesitation turn into desperation when you feel his bulge brushes deliciously against your aching core. He grunts, pulling you even closer as his lips travel to your jaw, making you circle your arms around his neck, fingers threading on his soft hair.

Just as you let out another soft moan–courtesy of Jungkook kissing the right spot under your ear–you hear the sound of a door opening, and a sleepy voice.

“Eomma? Where are you?”

You stand up hastily, peeling yourself away from Jungkook’s warmth. Jungkook instinctively steadying your hips as you’re about to fall from your panicked moves. 

“J-just leave everything, I will clean it up later,” you say without even looking back at him, heart stammering inside your chest.

Jungkook can see the guilt behind your eyes as you hurriedly make your way upstairs. He rubs his face as he sighs softly. Not because he’s disappointed, but he’s genuinely concerned whether you regret what just happened. He clearly doesn’t. But he can see you look upset.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jungkook decides it’s too late to extend his welcome, so he cleans everything up and leaves your house quietly.

[Jungkook]: Hey, just wanted to let you know that I’m glad we kissed. I hope you feel the same way. Let’s talk when you’re available. Good night.

You know it’s stupid to avoid him. But you can’t shake that guilty feeling which has been eating you alive for a couple weeks now. You know you shouldn’t feel that way. Especially after reading his last message. You’re single, he’s single, there’s nothing wrong with two single people wanting each other. But this is uncharted territory for you. Navigating your desire while maintaining a status as a single mom. You feel irresponsible to give into your desire while there are too many responsibilities. It struck you the most when you realized how frustrated you were when Miyeon called you. 

That guilt of wanting something for yourself is something you still need to manage. Because you are someone who is not used to prioritizing herself. Spending your life growing as an eldest daughter, then getting married quite young, being a mother, it’s as if you were never given time to think about your own desire as you are too used to thinking about how your actions will implicate others.

You don’t realize you’ve been looking straight to the TV, remote on hand, and yet, haven’t even turned the thing on. Memory keep playing back to that night, on this exact location, the same couch, his hands on yours, his quiet whimpers, the feeling of being wanted, by the man you really want for yourself too–

“Y/N?”

You almost drop the remote when your mother makes her appearances in the living room. Already dressed in her sleeping gown, a cup of ginseng tea on hand. She frowns slightly as the room is left dark, and yet, you don’t even turn the television on.

“What are you doing?”

“J-just watching the TV.”

She pauses a moment, before turning on the light. She studies your face for a second before asking silently whether she can sit next to you. You nod your head gently, giving her some space.

“Is there something wrong? You’ve been quite distracted lately.”

Well, she’s not wrong. You’ve almost packed Miyeon’s daycare backpack with your own lunchbox and green juice.

Also, that one day, instead of packing her a set of clothes (for backup if her clothes are wet that day), you put two pairs of trousers. Thank goodness her clothes remained dry and clean the whole day.

And maybe, this is not the first time your mother caught you unfocused in the past few weeks.

“Something happened with Seonho?” she asked carefully. Knowing you had been through hell and it might still be quite a sensitive subject.

You shake your head slowly, fingers moving nervously around your loose t-shirt hem. As you ponder whether to talk to her about it, she asks again, even slower than before.

“Is it Jungkook?”

And when you froze for a second, she knew she hit the right spot. 

“I haven’t heard from him lately, is he okay?”

“Y-yeah… I supposed so… I haven’t talked to him for a while too…”

“Why? I thought… you two are… closer again?” she asks again, still tentatively.

Seeing the concern in her eyes, you think maybe you could finally talk to someone about this. You are hesitant at first, because how could you discuss something like this with your own mother? But then you remember, she had been helpful too during your difficult period with Seonho. 

“We… kind of did… it’s just… I feel… guilty… and just confused because… the more I want to be with him… makes me forget about my responsibility as Miyeon’s mom… even confessing this makes me feel guilty because… how could you possibly put a man over your own daughter…”

Your mother hums softly, “I can understand where you’re coming from,” she puts her glass on the coffee table and makes herself sit more comfortably, “but don’t you think Jungkookie is a good man?”

Nodding your head, your mind travels to the memories of the past few months. He really is a good man, isn’t he? You recall his big brown eyes widened earnestly every time you start a conversation. And the way he is always turning towards your every bid–something you learnt in your therapy, about couple’s compatibility and how a healthy relationship requires each person to respond positively towards the other’s bid, or an invitation to connect–something you were missing with Seonho before. He rarely responds to your bid, especially towards the period where you know he’d been seeing someone else.

“What Miyeon deserves is a happy mother, and a happy mother requires you to be in a healthy mental space. I think your relationship with Jungkookie has helped you a lot in that case. I could see how much happier you were. You know, you got less frustrated with Miyeon lately. You talked even softer to her, as if… you gained more patience?” your mom says.

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did,” your mom pats your shoulder gently, “and as your mother, it makes me happy seeing you like that. I know you keep a lot to yourself, but I know what you went through was not easy. My dear, you deserve to be happy, and you deserve to think about yourself too. You have me, you have Kiho, we will all help you with Miyeon, you don’t have to worry about that. But you’re the only one who can help yourself with your heart.”

It’s very impulsive and your heart is still beating so fast from all the rush. Moments after your conversation with your mother, you texted Jungkook. Yeah, shameless really. After a couple weeks of radio silence. And worse, after an intimate moment you shared with him. You should not expect him to reply that fast, or at all. But he did.

[You]: Hey… can we talk? Sorry it took me this long.

[Jungkook]: Sure. Tell me when and where.

[You]: Can you share me your address? And can I come over? Like… right now?

Your mother had told you that she would sleep with Miyeon tonight. So, you don’t have to worry about her. That is why you find yourself just outside Jungkook’s apartment lobby at 10 PM on a weekday. 

“Hey.”

He sounds the same. He looks the same too, a familiar view of Jungkook in a black zip up hoodie and a pair of sweatpants greets you as the automatic door opens up. 

“H-hi… I’m sorry it’s so late and I–”

“Y/N,” his voice stern but gentle, “let’s go upstairs.”

You follow him to the elevator. The silence in between does make you move awkwardly. Something you haven’t been doing whenever you’re around him–even from the first time you saw him again. But you know it’s on you. You’re the one who ghosted him, left his message unreplied with the last impression that maybe you might regret what happened between you two.

Jungkook opens his unit door and lets you go inside first. You instinctively take off your shoes and your heart skips a beat upon seeing a woman’s size slipper just beside one you assumed is his–black and obviously man’s size. For a moment you think that maybe there was another woman he welcomed. But then again, who are you to control what he could and couldn’t do.

“I bought it a few weeks ago when we were supposed to hang out here. You know, to cook,” he says as if sensing your wandering mind.

“I’m sorry…”

He looks at you for a second, does not respond to your word directly but gesturing you to follow him towards what you assume is his living room. He then takes a seat on the couch and again, signalling you to also do the same.

“Again… I’m sorry… Kook, I really am I don’t–”

“What are you sorry about exactly?” he stops you mid sentence, knowing the way you avoid his gaze means you’re about to ramble around. It’s not like he doesn’t want to hear you rambling. Hell, he always finds it cute. But he needs you to cut to the chase right now. He’s been on the verge for the past few weeks. He knows your situation, and he has been trying to comprehend, trying to put himself in your shoes. And yes, moving on from a long committed relationship is not easy. There’s always a lingering feeling of whether you’re doing the right thing. Is it too fast, will this last, what would your ex think, and to add a child in that equation must have been overwhelming too. So, yeah, Jungkook could understand a fraction of what you might be feeling. But God does he need to hear how you feel about that night too. 

“For leaving you on read…” you answer truthfully, because that’s the point that makes you feel so bad.

“Yeah, that was a little bit cruel,” he responds, a faint chuckle leaving his lips, “but really, what I’m dying to know is whether you regret it or not, Y/N.”

You can feel your heartbeat rising as your eyes locked with his. You think this might be your first time seeing that look on him. Piercing gaze looking straight to yours. Gone the friendly-neighbour Jungkook look you’re familiar with. You should feel intimidated really, but on the contrary, you are drawn to him. Like you want to prove to him that no, you don’t regret it at all. 

So, you gather your courage and move closer on the couch, knees brushing his as you keep your eyes locked.

“No,” you shake your head slightly, “it’s the opposite really. I… I wanted you so bad it scared me.”

He moves closer too. Now that he hears your confession, he finds more confidence to cup your cheek, thumb brushes the apple gently, “yeah? Why? Did I scare you?”

“Not you,” you sigh, feeling his caresses, “just… I feel like a bad mom because for the first time in a long time, I wish I didn’t need to think about being a mom for a while and just…”

“Just…” he trails off, thumb moving closer to your lower lips, trying to control his urges seeing you close your eyes momentarily.

“Just be with you. Truly be with you.”

“You don’t need to forget about being a mom to be with me, I don’t mind that part of you at all, you just need to tell me what you feel and I’ll try to adjust as much as I can.”

“I know, that’s why I’m saying it’s not you, it’s me,” you lean your cheek deeper into his palm, “it’s scary because that night I was really disappointed and frustrated that… she woke up while I’m… while I wanted…”

He can sense your wants just by seeing the look on your face, so Jungkook moves even closer, his other hand moves to your nape, making your breath hitch, “you wanted what?” he leans down to you, nose brushing your jaw gently.

Your sanity officially leaves the chat when he finally kisses the back of your ear, an open mouthed one that leaves your skin wet but God you don’t mind at all. You can feel slick gushing from your core just from that one move. Your hands move instinctively around his neck, pulling him closer, “I want you, God, I want you so much.”

“Yeah? I want you too,” he trails kisses down your jaw, “can’t stop thinking about you it’s driving me insane,” as his lips brushes yours, he stops, closing his eyes, he mumbles against your lips, “let me have you?”

Your answer comes by taking his lips into a deep kiss, tightening your hold around his neck as he maneuvers you to sit on his lap, your thighs part to trap him in between yours. 

It’s been too long for you to feel this desired, even just from a kiss. The way he moves your head, his tongue begging for entrance before battling yours, everything he does ignites the fire inside you.

“Can I have you?” he asks again, hands starting to move downwards towards your back, silently waiting for your answer before touching you in places he really desires.

“I’m yours, Kook,” you kiss him again before leaning back a little, fingers fiddling with the buttons of your blouse while keeping your eyes locked on him. It spurs you seeing how darker his eyes are getting. Lips red and swollen from the makeout session earlier, he rests his head against the couch, licking his lower lip.

“Show me what’s mine then.”

Holy hell, never knew being commanded like this makes you so aroused. So you unbutton your blouse slowly, giving a peek of that white lace bra you specifically picked earlier because sue you for being prepared. 

You’re just a second done from peeling your blouse off when his hand palms your breast. Thumb grazing your nipple through the lacey fabric already making you whimper. 

Jungkook leans forward, lips peppering kisses around your collarbone as he whispers against your skin, “pretty, is this mine?”

“Y-yes.”

“Show me what else is mine,” he commands after giving your chest a sloppy kiss and leans back again, waiting for you to make your next move.

You take the cue and get on your feet to take off your pants, trying your best to be seductive and sexy, but Jungkook can see your hands trembling so he leans forward to hold your hand.

“Hey, hey, you okay? We don’t have to do this.”

“No,” you firmly reply, because you DO really want it. It’s just… it’s been a while for you and the fact that you’ve only been intimate with your ex-husband has just dawned on you as you are lowering down your pants.

“I mean, I want this, it’s just… been a while.”

“I get it,” he responds, pulling you gently to his lap again–sans pants now, “come here, let me make you feel good,” lips peppering kisses down your neck, “don’t be shy, baby, feel what you’ve done to me,” he pulls your hips down against his hardened bulge under his sweatpants.

“Nghh,” you can help but moan when finally feeling that long awaited friction against your damp panties.

Seeing how you like it, Jungkook holds your butt with both hands before getting up, making you hold onto him tightly as he carries you across the room to where you assume is his bedroom. 

Turns out you’re right, because then he lays you down on the bed, comforting cool cotton against your skin as you regulate your breathing from seeing him take off his hoodie first, and then a plain white t-shirt, before his bare torso greets your eyes. 

And what a magnificent view it is. You finally get what you’re wishing for, to witness his tattoo along his right arm until the upper part of his chest. His shoulder to waist ratio is borderline sinful. 

As your eyes trail down, the obvious tent on his grey sweatpants makes you both gulp and gush. You don’t think you ever salivate over a man like this before.

But before you can think further, Jungkook gets on the bed, caging you in, cups your face with one hand before kissing you again. You don’t waste anymore time exploring his body. Your smaller hands roam his sculpted body deliberately. And when he moans against your lips in specific places, you can’t help but raise your hips to meet his, chasing that delicious friction to your core.

He shucks his pants off along with his boxer hastily before grinding his hips against yours, “see how much I want you, can you feel it?”

“Y-yes, please, Jungkook…”

“Let me open you up,” he swallows your moan as his finger makes its way inside you, “God you’re so tight like this.”

“Please,” you squeeze his big arms, “please…”

“What do you need? Tell me, Baby,” lips all over your neck and jaw, he slowly adds a second finger, thumb circling on your pulsing clit.

The pleasure intensifies as you feel tears prickling your eyes, hips chasing his hands rapidly, “I need you inside, please…”

“My fingers are inside.”

Even in your state you can make out his smug smirk, teasing you.

“I need your dick, please, put it inside me.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

You pry your eyes open in between desperate whimpers. Gone the teasing smirk, his gaze is deep, focusing on you.

“Promise I’ll make you feel good, okay? Enjoy this with me?”

You nod a few times, breath hitching each second as his fingers move faster.

And then he slows down, taking it out of you as you gasp, already longing for his touch.

Before the cold air can even settle against your skin, he shifts, parting your thighs wider and settling his weight right between them. His length lines up against you, hot and thick, pressing into your slick warmth but not putting it in just yet.

“Fuck,” he closes his eyes momentarily before opening it again, leans down as he brushes his lips against yours, “feel how much I want you, how hard you make me?” 

“Please… Kook, I want you too.”

He slowly pushes into you, inch by inch. You let out a shaken whimper as your body stretches to accommodate him. He’s big, that’s the first thing you realize as you feel the stretch is in between pleasure and pain. 

“F-fuck,” Jungkook groans into your mouth, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He stops moving for a second when he feels like he reaches deep enough, lips devouring yours in slow kisses to ease that tension he can feel on your body.

When he feels your hips start moving, searching for more, he begins to move, a slow, deep, devastatingly thorough rhythm. It’s not rough—not yet—but the sheer weight and depth of each stroke are dizzying. Every time he pulls back, it feels like a loss, and every time he drives back in, he leans his full weight into you, making sure you feel the hard press of his hips against yours, anchoring you to the bed. 

“Kook, please,” you start to sob with every deep thrust, your fingers digging into the tight muscles of his back, your hips instinctively lifting to meet him. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his lips catching yours in a deep, bruising kiss, “fuck you feel so good,” he pairs the kiss with a sudden, sharper angle, hitting a spot deep inside that makes your toes curl and your vision go blurry. 

It’s been so long since you’ve been held like this, making the sudden rush of intimacy feels like a physical shock to your system. Every touch of his skin against yours, the heavy slide of him stretching you open, triggers a wave of electricity that ripples straight to your core. And you’re defenseless against it. Your body reacts on its own, you let out a loud moan as your head rolls back into the pillow, your senses entirely overwhelmed. 

“Too much?” Jungkook asks, his voice thick with a mix of concern and need. He pauses his moves, chest heaving against yours, but he doesn't pull out. He stays buried deep, letting you feel the pulsing thickness of him. 

"No, no, don't stop," you cry out, the words frantic as you hook your legs higher around his waist, "It’s just... I’ve never... God, Jungkook, please."

The thing is, it’s not just the physical aspect of it. It’s in the way he looks at you, touches you like you’re the only thing that matters in this world, the way his large hand anchors your hips as if he’s afraid of losing you makes your heart and body flutter. 

"I'm not stopping, Baby, I can’t," he growls, the sweet reassurance melting into a possessive rumble as he begins to move again. 

This time, he picks the pace up. Your hips chase him blindly, movements uncoordinated and desperate as you both chase the high. You’re coming apart at the seams, tears spill over your lashes, blurring your vision of his face while you arch more into his heavy, deep thrusts. 

One of his hand snakes over your chest, kneading your breast roughly as his thumb brushes hard over the peak. Your hips instantly buck upward against him, a high, broken gasp catching in your throat as your inside walls tighten and begin to throb in anticipation. 

“I’m close, I’m so close, Kook, please…”

“Yeah? Come all over me, come on, be a good girl and come for me.” 

His deep, gravelly voice is the final push your body needs as white-hot waves of pleasure crash straight through you. Your internal muscles clamp down around him in desperate, tight spasms as the orgasm rips out of you. Pulling him even closer, you cry his name out against his neck, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders as your hips tremble violently against his. This might be the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced in your entire life, leaving you a breathless, shivering wreck. 

Jungkook groans heavily, his jaw clenching as he absorbs the intense, squeezing pressure of your climax. He holds himself deep inside you for a few seconds, letting you ride out the peak, his hands gently rubbing up and down your thighs to soothe your trembling body.

“That’s it, Baby,” he murmurs, tone softening while peppering soft, comforting presses along your jawline, “did so good, made a mess of my dick.”

When your breath begins to level out, you feel him slightly shift. But he doesn't pull back. Instead, the heavy thickness of him presses deeper, still rock-hard and pulsing against your sensitive walls. A low, warning chuckle vibrates in his chest when you let out a tiny whine.

“Yeah, so… I’m not done with you yet,” he nudges your nose gently, a stark contrast with the way his hard dick is pulsing inside you, “you think you can still handle it?”

“Y-yeah,” because of course you’re still very much physically attracted to him. Especially now with his damp black hair, buffed chest glistening with sweat and oh so intoxicating sex-induced smell of his body. So whatever sensitivity you feel down there, yeah, it really can be negotiated.

You show him by pulling his head closer, capturing his reddened lips with yours in a deep sensual kiss, tongue searching for him while your small hand roams over his tight abs.

“I want you to cum, Kook, fuck me until you cum,” you mumble in between kisses, earning a hiss from him before he picks your body, move up on the bed as he sits against the headboard with you on his lap.

Your hands instinctively hold onto his shoulder, lifting your body, you watch him stroking his dick with one hand while the other guiding your hips slowly down. 

You know it’s going to burn a little from this position, but damn it’s worth the pain when he is finally buried to the hilt. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he groans, head snapping back against the headboard. With his large hands anchoring you, you begin to ride him. The position allows you to feel him even deeper, hitting new spots that send hot pleasure all over your senses. Jungkook guides your rhythm, thumbs rubbing your hips, pulling you down harder when he needs more pressure. 

When you thought he couldn’t look hotter, you’re proven wrong. Not when his glassy eyes darken with desire bore into yours, half-lidded, breath ragged with sweats rolling down from his neck to chest. 

He catches your look, a lazy smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. His hand cups your face, thumb pulling your bottom lip down, “you look so sexy like this, riding my dick so good, gonna let me have this forever, yeah?”

You nod, tongue brushing his thumb before catching the whole thing and sucking it eagerly. 

Jungkook snaps his head back harder this time, strings of curses escape his lips as he bucks his hips faster. Pulling his thumb off of you, he uses it to circle your clit. It really doesn’t take long before you feel that familiar bubbling sensation, waiting to burst. And when he leans forward to take one of your bouncing breasts into his mouth and suck greedily, you feel  the coil snaps inside, sending jolts of pleasure all over your body. 

Before you can process anything, in one fluid, effortless motion, he pulls you out and shifts you onto your knees between his legs. He reaches down, his fingers gently tangling in your hair to guide your head down toward his lap, where his length is pulsing and heavy. 

"Open up for me, baby," he begs, his voice dropping into a rough, desperate whisper as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, “take it for me, let me cum in your pretty mouth please.”

How could you say no when he asks you so nicely, but also, you want it, badly. You want to see him fall apart the way he made you two times earlier. Looking up at him through your lashes, you part your lips and take his hot, heavy length. The sensation makes Jungkook let out a loud, guttural groan, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands tighten in your hair, holding you gently but firmly in place. He begins to move his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, whole body shaking with the strain of holding back.

"So good... fuck, gonna cum," he pants, his breath hitching as the climax finally hits him, fingers anchoring you as he releases inside your mouth. He holds himself there for a few seconds, riding out the powerful, pulsing waves of his climax while whispering breathless, sweet praises to you. You instinctively swallow everything, before wiping your lips with your hand.

Jungkook immediately reaches for you, his strong arms hooking under your arms to pull you upward until you're collapsed against his chest, head tucked under his chin. He holds you tight, large hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over your bare back. 

“You okay?” he asks, while you feel a gentle kiss on top of your head.

“More than okay,” you emphasize by nuzzling further into the crook of his neck. Sweat be damned.

The quiet of the aftermath brings a sudden, heavy wave of reality crashing back into your mind. You trace a mindless pattern over his collarbone, the warmth of his skin grounding you, but you can’t shake the thoughts away. What happens after this? And did it happen just because of familiarity?

"Jungkook?" you whisper, voice small inside the quiet bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“What happens after this?”

He stops his movement, peering his eyes down at you, making you a little distracted with those glossy boba eyes, very much different from the intense pair when he railed you into the mattress.

“What I want is to be with you, if you have me. I’ll learn whatever you want me to learn, about your routine, what you need from me in terms of your relationship with your daughter,” he strokes your cheek softly, “whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable, because that's what you’ve given me.”

“Comfort?”

“Yeah.”

“What if that’s just what it is.”

“What do you mean?” 

You can see even in faint light how his brows knit together.

“I mean, what if we just fall into a comfortable, familiar area because we already know each other? It's easy to slide back into old patterns when you meet someone from your past. I just... I’m worried that we're confusing nostalgia with something real." 

Jungkook shifts slightly, a small, tender smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he frames your face with his two large hands, leaving you no choice but to look at him in the eyes.

"First of all, comfort is not a bad thing," he says, voice steady and convincing, “I know this might look like it, believe me, I struggle with this thought at first too,” his large thumb brushing the apple of your cheek lightly, “tried to convince myself that we’re just old friends, but I realized that friends could also become lovers. And maybe even better, because not only I want to tell you everything about my day, or whatever interesting comes my way, but also…” his thumb grazes your lips, “I want to kiss you too, I want to hug you, I don’t like the idea of anyone giving you romantic attention–”

“Taehyung?” you say while smiling mischiveously. 

He chuckles with you, head leans a little to give you a quick smooch, “yeah, honestly it was also the moment when I realized, no, I don’t want her to go on a date with him, or anyone else. Because I want to be the only one who takes you out.”

He pulls you back into his embrace, your hand around his waist as you snuggle closer, “I feel that way too… like… I wanna tell you about my day, about what I feel or what makes me laugh.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, “I haven’t felt being heard for a while now… so…”

He holds you tighter, lips pressing another kiss on the top of your head, “I’ll hear you out, and on the days that I’m not 100% in  it, I’ll tell you. And we’ll learn, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both fall into comforting silence, savouring each other’s presence until your bodies adjust itself into an even more comfortable position. Your back against his chest while his arms wrapped around your waist, lips peppering kisses on your shoulder.

“Promise you talk to me if anything’s bothering you, yeah?” he whispers, lips brushing behind your ear.

“Okay… promise you tell me if I did something wrong?” 

Jungkook knows it’s a question based on your previous trauma. So he kisses your shoulder, another one lands behind your ear.

“I will. I won’t shut you out, Y/N, we’ll talk, okay? Even when it’s messy, we’ll talk.”

You turn your body to face him, to look him right in the eye to search for any doubt, any crack, but you found none. He just looks at you with genuine determination.

“What’s running inside this pretty head, huh?” he asks, fingers playfully flicking your forehead.

“You know, at that daechang place, when you asked me how I feel about dating.”

“Oh yeah,” Jungkook remembers that conversation, the night he thought you were so cute.

“And I told you, I was confused, because I wanted something but I don’t know what, because I keep calculating about being a mom and also being a single woman.”

“You know you could be both with me,” he adds, lips pressing a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah, so now I know what I want, it’s something just like this.”

Later, before you go into deep slumber with his arms around your waist, you feel like the lingering doubts in your mind finally begin to settle into a quiet sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this history between you wasn’t a crutch, but a foundation. When you broke up all those years ago, it hadn’t been because the feelings died, life had simply pulled you apart before you were ready. 

And now, fate had thrown you back together after surviving the wreckage of failed marriages—you, walking away from a husband who couldn’t stay faithful, and Jungkook, untangling himself from a relationship that had choked to death on silence and poor communication. Both of you had been broken down, but had also grown up. As you feel the weight of his arms around you protectively, you realize that the scars you both carried were no longer just baggage. They were lessons. You knew the cost of betrayal, and he knew the danger of staying silent. 

Slotting your fingers in between his, you try to believe that this time, the risk might be worth it. Because in this short life, you deserve to love and be loved by the right person. And sometimes, it’s not always a new one.

END

     The café was one of the things you didn’t get to see on your tour with Songun, given it wasn’t near the meeting room you met the boys in. You were still shocked when you walked in and realized the café was more like a cafeteria, with many different food options, vendors, and drink options galore. You were awestruck, ignoring the laughter coming from the boys as they dragged you to the smaller coffee vendor.

     “What drink would you like, Noona?” Taehyun asked you as he began looking over the options. You looked over the menu but didn’t see anything you recognized so you just told him to pick something out for you.

     His eyes grew wide in excitement, animatedly looking over the coffee options as you turned around, looking for a seat nearby. Your knee was giving you trouble as you could feel it shifting with every step you took, and you needed to massage it soon before it inevitably popped out.

     You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your new friends, and a sure-fire way to do that was to have your body work against you. You couldn’t stand the looks you would get whenever you had to pop something back in or massage your body to counteract the pain you felt in your joints.

     You moved to the counter to pay, only after receiving a weird look from the barista did you realize you forgot you didn’t have to pay for anything. You nod your head awkwardly, not waiting for the boys as you moved to the closest seat and began massaging the muscles around your knee cap. You couldn’t stand up any longer or you knew your kneecap would pop out.

     You sit down slowly, with care, and place your drink on the table before bending down a little to massage the muscle to the side of your knee cap. It was a long-practiced massage, something your specialist recommended to you when you were in school and always on the move. You were regretting not bringing your cane with you today, thinking you wouldn’t need it.

     You always did this to yourself. You had a good day yesterday, so you thought you would have one today. But of course, why would you have two good days in a row?

     “Are you okay, Noona?” Taehyun had come up to you, noticing you had disappeared from next to him.  He was concerned that you were hurt, seeing you rub at your knee. The entire building knew about your disability, a few concerned words overheard by one of the staff after walking past Jin and Sejin had spread to everyone within the span of an hour.

     Your head shot up at Taehyun’s question, not realizing he was standing in front of you.

     “Y-Yes, I’m okay.” You nod your head as you speak, trying to reassure him you were fine, but failing to do so as your stutter gives you away. You try to play it off as you forgot the word for yes, but he just shook his head.

     “Do we need to go get hyungs?” Taehyun asks just as the others walk over.

     “Go get hyungs for what?” Beomgyu questions Taehyun before seeing you and the way you were practically cradling your knee. “Ahhhhhh.” He nods his head in understanding.

     “Do you need us to go get the hyungs?” Heuning Kai ask you softly, leaning over so he was almost whispering in your ear. You appreciate the sentiment, but it seems people were beginning to look your direction anyway.

     You look around shyly, not wanting everyone to know what was going on.

     “Everyone is curious about BTS hyungs’ soulmate.” Yeonjun states, seeing the way you were looking around. “The announcement was pretty big, especially after the one they put out about trying to find you.” You let out a sigh at his words, understanding what was going on but that didn’t mean you necessarily felt comfortable with all the looks.

     “Why don’t we take you back to Hyungs? They should be having a break right now…” Yeonjun trailed off as he looked at his phone.

     “Okay.” You stood up slowly, testing your weight on your knee, hiding your wince at the sharp pain.

     “Oh! I promised them I would bring them something back from the café!” You make for the counter again but hands gently push you back into your seat.

     “Rest, noona. We will go get hyung’s favorites!”

-*-*-

     And grab their favorites they did. Not only did they arrive back to the table with three drink carriers and two paper bags filled with pastries, but they insisted to helping you to bring everything back to the practice room, Soobin even assisting you in walking once he realized you were favoring your leg.

     “You better put your arm back by your side, Soobin!” You chastis for the third time, seeing him bring his arm back out to try and carry you. He kept insisting that he didn’t want you walking on your leg and that he should carry you back to the room, but, of course, you insisted the opposite. You weren’t fragile and didn’t need to be carried anywhere.

     “Hyung, will you get the door please!” Beomgyu and Taehyun plead out, trying to not have the drink carriers fall as they make it to the door. Soobin looks at you again, before moving over to the door of the boys’ practice room, music still blasting from the speakers. You recognized the song this time as the chorus to Idol plays. As the door opens you begin to limp over to Yeonjun who holds one of the pastry bags and a drink carrier.

     “Here, give me one.” You hold your hand out, but he shakes his head.

     “Noona, you’re hurt. It’s okay.” He steps back, moving towards the open door but you just follow him.

     “I’m fine though! I promise. I just want to help.” You insist again, stepping into the room and still reaching for the pastry bag.

     “Noona you’re hurt. You don’t need to be carrying anything.” Yeonjun is stubborn, you’ll give him that, but unfortunately, someone overhears his words. Footsteps come pounding towards you and Soobin and suddenly you are picked up, your chest pressed against theirs and your thighs tossed around their hips.

     “Jungkook, I’m fine!” You whine as soon as you realize who picked you up, his scent making you feel calm despite your embarrassment. You slumped in his arms, trying to hide yourself in his sweatshirt hood as he walked away from the younger boys.

     “What happened?” You hear Namjoon ask Heuning Kai as he was closest to the leader.

     “Y/n Noona hurt her knee at the cafe.” Was his simple reply, not exactly knowing what happened to your knee.

     Jungkook carried you over to the seat you were sitting in before, and proceeded to kneel in front of you and holding your leg up so he could look over your knee. He instantly became a “doctor” prodding and running his fingers over the expanse of your knee, trying to feel for anything out of the normal.  

     Yoongi and Taehyung also came over, leaning over Jungkook and looking at your knee, the three men ignoring your attempts to push them away. You were bordering the line between feeling embarrassed and humiliated and it had your cheeks red and eyes blurring with tears.

     “Please stop. I’m fine.” You repeated, trying to get their hands off of you. You didn’t care that they were your soulmates at this moment, you just wanted to go back to your hotel.

     “Please stop touching me. I’m okay.” You tried to push Jungkook’s hands away, but he was more focused on your knee, even though his touch wasn’t helping in the slightest. You could tell that the others could hear you, Jimin and Namjoon glancing your way and Hoseok trying to get the focus of everyone off of you by asking the boys what they had brought.

     You felt like you were in school again, getting made fun of for your knee dislocating in gym class. You hated everyone watching you, trying to see if you were faking or not, ignoring the pain and tears rolling down your cheeks as your gym teacher stresses over your disfigured knee, wondering if she should call and ambulance.

     The insults “attention whore” and “lazy” running through your mind from when you were younger as everyone in the room continues to look at you now, Namjoon and Jimin beginning to walk your way as Jin says his thanks to the boys. One final prod of your knee from Yoongi has you snapping, pushing them away from you and pulling your knee to yourself.

     “I asked you to please stop touching me.” You push out, trying to stop the tears already flowing down your cheeks. You were even more embarrassed now, crying in front of them. You hated how emotional you get, especially when you get stuck in your head with your past.

     “Baby, I—” You cut off Yoongi, his face shocked at your actions.

     “I think I would like to go back to my hotel now.” You whispered, withdrawn, and looking down at your lap. You felt a tug in your chest as Jungkook moved closer, trying to get you to look at him.

     “Baby, We’re sorry. We just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

     “We got worried when we heard Soobinnie say you were hurt. Our instincts took over.” Taehyung finished Jungkook’s thought. Namjoon tried not to interrupt, but he knew he had to.

     “Our instincts don’t make us ignore the words of our mate, though. We all heard her ask you not to touch her.” Namjoon scolded the three, even Yoongi looking down in guilt.

     “We are all so sorry, Y/n. We should have listened to you; there is no excuse.” Yoongi spoke up, his eyes piercing your own as he spoke.  

     Jimin, Jin, and Hoseok stood a couple feet away, watching as you close in on yourself. Jimin couldn’t believe how everything changed so quickly. They were making such good progress with you, their bond with you was growing and solidifying and now, he was only hoping you didn’t change hotels and block their numbers.

     “Honey, please stay. I know that you want your alone time, but you just entered the next stage of the bond with Jungkook. It will hurt both of you if you are alone for two long now. At least, until we all have completed the bond.” Namjoon explains. “Besides that, I don’t think you really want to be alone right now.” His town turning in on her.

     And he was right. The first stage of the bond had just solidified with Jungkook the night before. You knew what would happen if you were apart for long. You also knew you didn’t want to be alone. You hated that he was right about that.

     All you wanted was to be comforted, to be wrapped in their arms and told that everything was okay. You’ve never felt like that before. Usually you want to be alone, lying in bed and wrapped under the covers, completely hidden from view.

     Now, all you wanted was to be comforted by your soulmates.

     One look from you was all it took for Jungkook to lift you off the chair and into his arms, sitting himself down and holding you in his lap. The tug in your chest finally settling, the embarrassment and insecurity slowly ebbing away the longer he held you to him.

     Once the others started moving away, Jungkook having motioned to them while you weren’t paying attention, he began to comb his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp as he did so. He knew it helped soothe your mind and calm your body.

     “I am so sorry, baby. I need to open my ears and become more aware even with my instincts screaming at me.” He squeezed you a little tighter. “Please don’t be mad at me. Please don’t leave.” You could truly hear the fear behind his words, thinking you would leave them.

     Jungkook had really thought he messed up everything. He thought you were going to reject them now; he was so sure about it. He tried not to imagine the pain the others would feel at your absence, and only hoped he could fix things between you.

     “I may not…understand the bond like you do.” You started, still trying to find your words. “But I wouldn’t reject you all over something as small as this.” Almost immediately Jungkook began to protest.

     “It’s not ‘something small’ if it makes you cry.” He adjusted you on his lap so you were now facing him. “We are all still getting to know each other, still growing the bond our souls have. I can understand if you don’t want to talk about it now, but I would like to know what made you cry so I can fix it.” He brings his palm up to your cheek, cupping it. “I hate seeing you cry. It makes me want to fight who or whatever it is that made those precious tears fall.”

     You look down again, trying to decide if you had enough courage to tell him the real reason behind your tears, or a slimmed down version of your feelings.

     “I uhm, was embarrassed.” You decide to tell him, to try and explain what was going through your head.

     “When I was younger, before the doctors had figured out what was wrong with me, I was just known as “clumsy” and “lazy” by everyone. No one ever taking my pain or injuries seriously. Even doctors just told me it was my weight, despite being healthy. I was told I was just looking for attention.” You tried blinking away your tears, feeling them begin to pool on your waterline.

     “It got really bad when physical education became a class in middle school and high school. I hadn’t received a diagnosis yet which meant I had to push my limits for a grade. One day…” You pause, swallowing down the choking sob so you could talk. 

     “We were supposed to be running the mile for our fitness test. I was in eighth grade and barely lasted one lap before my knee dislocated. It wasn’t the first time any of my joints fully dislocated, but it hurt all the same.” You began to explain the memory you flashed back to. You couldn’t help but grip his shirt tighter, your body full of anxiety.

     Jungkook almost wants to tell you to stop. That he doesn’t need to know, not if it makes your heart hurt, or if you are pushing yourself to open up to him. That was the last thing he wanted to do, to push you into anything.

     “I remember falling to the ground, my knee in excruciating pain. I hadn’t gotten used to the feeling yet, but I didn’t want to have everyone looking at me and wondering “What did she do now?” like I did this on purpose. I didn’t want anyone’s attention and I remember swearing to myself that I would finish the mile. So, I moved to put my knee back into place but the teacher had already seen me on the floor.” You grimace, remembering vividly how she ran up to you.

     “Her voice seemed to be attached to a microphone as she yelled across the field, telling me not to touch my knee and asking if I was okay. She made a huge deal about it, sitting next to me and trying to figure out if she should call an ambulance. She even got another teacher involved.” Jungkook was confused, wanting to know what you meant by making a big deal out of the situation.

     “I had spent months already putting my knee back into place and with everyone looking at me I just remember starting to cry, pushing my teacher away. Everyone’s stares on me, the whispers I could hear and the laughter coming from some of my classmates had me feeling humiliated. I felt even worse when my teacher did call an ambulance.” You whispered the last sentence, unable to stop the tears from slowly falling down your cheek.

     Jungkook now understood everything, with the help of some of the Soul Bracelet messages he remembered reading. (read: that he continues to read every night so he doesn’t forget anything)  He recalled reading multiple messages where you vented about growing up hearing that you needed to stop “attention seeking” and that you were faking your injuries, with classmates making fun of you, and no one believing you, that day was just a culmination of everything at once. Your dislike of attention and being the center of it, especially when injured, now made complete sense.

     He couldn’t help it, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up so he could see you. The feeling of your wet skin under his thumb as he wiped away your tears was something he didn’t want to feel again under the circumstances. Placing a soft and slow kiss to your lips, trying to push through his feelings of love and admiration for you, he held you close, closer than he already was.

     He knew he would tell the boys this later on, somehow, but for now, you needed him.

     “I am so sorry, baby. For everything. I will do my absolute best to stop that from happening again now that I know.” Jungkook kissed your mouth again, a chaste kiss that had your lips tingling. You don’t think you will get used to that, ever.

-*-*-

     You were able to be held by Jungkook only for a little bit longer, seeing as they did have things to do today. But after receiving his hoodie again, you were happily snuggled into it eating your forgotten watermelon cup from earlier. You had borrowed Namjoon’s headphones, after repeatedly asking if he was sure, and watched TikToks on your phone.

     You don’t know how long has passed before Taehyung is placing kisses to your face in a quick attack to steal your attention. A squeal escapes your lips as the headphones fall off your head and another set of kisses is aimed.

     “Oh baby! We’re all finished which means kisses!” Taehyung sings, making you laugh at the reminder.  But before he can give your face even more kisses, he is pulled away by Jin.

     “Hi, baby. We have some recording to do in the studio, but after that we were hoping to take you to dinner. Then maybe some movies at our place?” Jin smiled at you, seemingly nonchalant but on the inside, he was freaking out. His eyes showed the hope he had for the evening, showed his desire to just get to know you more and spend time with you.

     To you, it sounded nice. Just a simple night with all seven of them. It’s not something you’ve had the chance to experience yet. You make the first move this time, moving forward and putting your lips on his plump ones, shocking the man. Jin was in heaven at the feeling of your lips on his and he almost cried when the kiss was over, your big smile aimed at him ones he opened his eyes again.

     “That sounds nice, Jinnie.” You verbally respond to his words, making the others silently cheer at your acceptance.

     You move to snuggle back into the couch, only for Jin’s hand to move into your line of vision, his palm up and ready for you to take. You look up at him, confusion written on your face.

     “You didn’t think we were going to leave you here, did you?” Jin’s tone was teasing but held a real question, wondering if he didn’t make the plans obvious enough.

     You did actually think the plan was for you to stay in the practice room. You didn’t know what rooms you had access to yet, despite the boys saying you had access to everything they did. You didn’t know if they were just saying that or not.

     “Oh uhm, okay.” You didn’t answer his question, but the blush of embarrassment on your cheeks did. But Jin, nor the others, said anything about it. They knew the relationship between you all was still so new, so innocent that they didn’t want anything to go wrong, not like the incident earlier.

     You took his hand and he helped you up off the couch, not letting go of your hand as he led you out the doors and through the building until you reached the studio he was talking about.

     On the way to the studio, you walked by numerous staff members but your eyes stuck on the trainees who passed by as well. There were a couple groups of them, probably going from class to class, you thought. They bowed to your group a couple of times, some of them even stopping to bow a full ninety degrees. It was weird seeing it, but you knew it was a show of respect for the boys.

     Jin was first up to do his thing in the studio, your eyes barely catching the soft wink he sends you as he gives your hand a small squeeze before letting go and moving into the booth as your vision swept over the recording studio. There were buttons and keys of all kinds and you were curious and wanted to push every single one, needing to know what each button did.

     Hoseok caught your eye and put his hand on your lower back, moving you to sit in the producer’s chair and he knelt by your side. He knew it would take some time for Jin to get himself ready in the booth, so he took the time to indulge your curiosity.

     The others watched on as Hobi spoke animatedly about the digital audio workstation, pressing buttons and telling Jin to speak into the microphone to show what each button did. Hobi loved the way your eyes lit up when a particular button made Jin sound like a chipmunk. He loved the sparkle in your eye and the fascination with the workstation. He couldn’t help but imagine you and him in the studio one day, making a song together.

     When Jin was ready, Hobi let you stay in the chair, telling you what buttons to push while he instructed the room. Hobi, along with Namjoon and Yoongi, were in full producer mode now, but still held patience as you pushed the buttons and used the workstation.

     As each member went into the booth, Hobi would let you know how to save the audio and would give you the biggest smile and praise you for your work and help.

     “You could be our producer!” He smiled so wide that you ended up blushing under his praise. You felt like a little kid, wanting to do anything to make Hobi smile and praise you again.

     “No, no. I’m just pushing the buttons.” You tried to play it off but he just shook his head, shaking his finger at you.

     “Nope! You are now our producer.” He stated it with such conviction that you had to look away from him, not wanting him to see you blush, your cheeks surely lobster red by now.  

     Once the boys were done, two hours or so had passed. Hobi explained to you that they just needed to record some adlibs for their final song for the album, and that it would be quick. Having seen some “Bangtan Bombs” where the boys were in the studio, you could only guess they were normally here for hours and hours a day.

     You had been so relaxed and at ease that you didn’t even realize Hobi had slipped his hand in yours, intertwining your hands together so he could hold it. It took him helping you out of the chair for you to notice. You didn’t realize how easy it was to feel comfortable with Hobi, to feel like you had known him forever.

     Being with Hobi was easy and simple. Effortless.

     It was like you could go to him for anything and you knew he would just smile and listen to you. It also helped that he had a penchant for squeezing your hand in reassurance, as if speaking to you in morse code. He just smiles softly at you and hums under his breath. His actions speak louder than his words, the silence filled with so much that you don’t even notice the silence when you’re with him.

      As you all move to the big SUV to go to the restaurant the boys rented out, you pull Hobi so sit next to you, feeling the same way you did with Jungkook the previous day. You wanted to see who he was beyond the cameras of Bangtan that you got to know him from. You had a sweet smile on your face, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you laid your head on his shoulders, smiling softly, wanting to stay in this moment for a little longer.

      The car ride was filled with music and lots of talking; Taehyung asking what the name of the restaurant was, Namjoon asking what kinds of movies we all wanted to watch that night, Jungkook asking what snacks we were going to have, all while you and Hobi just talked. You asked him about his family and he asked about yours.

      You already knew about his older sister, and he somewhat knew about your siblings, but he

still listened attentively as you talked about your family.

       “My older sister is protective and was the one to help me get my diagnosis after my mom passed. She went to every appointment with me and made sure I was eating and drinking. She actually made a joke at one point that you all would be my soulmates, and after I got off the phone with you the first time, I immediately called her.” Hobi smiled as he listened, glad to know that you had someone there for you when they couldn’t be. It hurt to know you suffered through so much in such a short time frame.

         He rubbed his thumb across the top of your hand, trying to soothe you as he noticed your voice shaking a little.

        “My brother, on the other hand, is also protective, but like the stereotypical older brother way. He is the only other one of us who has met his soulmate. Lena is super sweet and they met in middle school. She’s like an older sister to me.” At some point, everyone else in the car had stopped their conversations to listen to you. They wanted to know everything they could, and they loved knowing you had a supportive family by your side.

        When you got to the restaurant, you ended up sitting in between Hobi and Jungkook at the large booth. Jin took control of ordering the food, while Hobi and Jungkook whispered to you what Jin was ordering so you knew what was going on. It was really sweet.

       While waiting for the food, you joined in on the movie conversation that Namjoon and Jimin had started. They seemed to be fighting over two different movies and you questioned why you couldn’t just watch them both. They looked at you and began trying to get you to see their point of view.

        “We don’t want to watch it again because its boring…”

        “He always falls asleep during the best parts!”

        “There are so many mindless plot points that…”

         Your head was whipping back and forth as you tried to keep up with their arguments, the boys speaking so fast you eventually had to give up. You sat back down in your seat, returning the soft smiles that Jin and Yoongi gave you from across the table.

        “It’s okay, pretty girl. They always get this way about movies. We tend to just pick one out and put it on before they notice anyways.” Hobi leans over and whispers in your ear, making you nod your head in understanding.

         “They get passionate like this over movies, huh?” You ask, almost rhetorically, as you watch it firsthand. You smiled as you watched them, Jimin throwing sass making Namjoon roll his eyes at the younger man.

         “They are more alike than I think they realize.” Hobi whispers back, “They are both passionate beings. Just in different ways. But they both have strong feelings about what they believe in, which makes the debate about which movie to watch an entertaining and sometimes chaotic event.” Hearing his words, you had a new perspective for the two boys, not even just in the capacity of arguing. It was like a new light shown on the two men and it had you wanting to know more about them.

         After Hobi’s words, a multitude of waiters came over and placed plate upon plate of food down on the table. The entire table was covered with food and it was at this moment you realized just how much food the boys could eat. You guessed most of the plates would be empty by the time you all were ready to leave.

         Your guess was cemented once Jin grabbed his first piece of food, signaling to everyone else that they could start. You didn’t know what to grab, everything looking so good, that you were kind of sitting there in awe. You were shaken out of it though once you saw chopsticks placing meat onto your empty plate.

       Hobi, on pure instinct, was making sure you had enough food on your plate before everyone else got their pick. He tried giving you a little of everything, but he also gave you some extra meat pieces, knowing you had a liking for them from your KBBQ trip with the maknaes.

       Once Hobi put the first piece of meat on your plate, however, Taehyung and Jungkook noticed and also began putting food on your plate. Soon enough your plate was overflowing with food, and you had to stop your mates from continuing to give you more food.

        It was a sweet gesture, but you couldn’t even make a dent in your plate. You ate slowly, savoring every flavor and taste you could. Despite not being used to Korean cuisine yet, you were slowly falling in love with all of it. Unfortunately, you could not handle any spice. You wanted to, but your mouth would slowly descend into flames if you even tried to eat anything even remotely spicy.

        So, at one point, you’re pretty sure you asked for a drink refill three times within ten minutes.

        “Are you okay?” Jungkook asked you, noticing you fanning your mouth from the heat as you slowly chewed your food.

        “Uhm, yeah.” Your voice was pitched higher as you tried to reassure him you were fine, eyes watering and cheeks heating up.

        Jungkook just quirked his eyebrow at you, automatically catching you in your lie. Taehyung was the same way with spicy foods, so Jungkook knew you were battling against the foods he had put on your plate. He didn’t mean to, he only wanted you to be able to try everything.

        Movement from the side caught your attention, as Hobi found a small empty plate and began removing everything on your own plate that was spicy and depositing it onto the smaller plate with the help of Taehyung. They both had seen how you reacted to the food and Taehyung helped tell Hobi everything that would give you trouble, knowing from experience.

         It was nice and heartwarming; it didn’t make you feel like a burden. Normally if this happened, if you tried to do something about it, like ordering a glass of milk, you friends would make fun of you, or your family would complain that they had to always go through the trouble of not getting what they wanted because you couldn’t handle anything spicy.

        Despite having a supportive and loving family, it was hard not to feel like you were a burden growing up. Sometimes a single scoff or deep breath of air from someone could have you becoming silent, trying to hide behind your hair.

        The boys didn’t make you feel this way. They didn’t make exaggerated movements as they removed the spicy food from your plate; they only sent you reassuring smiles and glances as they made sure they removed everything.

        “It’s okay, baby. I don’t like spicy foods either.” Taehyung reassured you again, before starting to eat his food, not giving the situation a second glance or thought. It was nice and left you smiling as you continued to eat slowly, still struggling with using the chopsticks you were given.

        For your first meal with everyone, the boys wanted to document it.

        “Okay everyone, smoosh together!” Jin yelled out so he could get everyone into frame on his phone. He was the one taking the selfie, his long arms giving him the advantage as he sat at the end of the table.

        You had your cheeks almost pressed to Hobi’s as he had an arm around your shoulder. Your height was not giving you any advantage as you tried not to be hidden by anyone. You were standing on your tippy toes and smiling as big as you could, showing just how truly happy you were in the moment.

        This was the first time you truly felt a part of the soul group and connected to each of the boys.

        “Okay…and 3, 2, 1!” You blinked as the flash went off, hoping that your eyes weren’t closed in the photo. Jin took a couple of pictures, each one had everyone doing something different, at one point, Jungkook and Hobi both pushed their fingertips into your cheeks causing laughter to bubble from your throat.

        “Are you gonna post those on Weverse, Hyung?” Jungkook asked once the photos were taken and everyone was moving towards the doors, content from their bellies being full.

        The boys had all tried being active on all of their social media, but they were all still partial to Weverse, liking that they got to interact firsthand with Army. They loved reading the comments on their posts and hoped that you would come to as well.

        “Yeah, but I don’t know which one to post.” Jin responded but knew he would probably post a different one to each of the Bangtan Official social media accounts.

        He zoomed into your face on the last photo, laughter clear on your face as your eyes were closed. He wanted to take more pictures of you, thinking you were the perfect muse for his camera. He couldn’t help but to think you were the perfect fit for them, for their soul bond.

cerebral introvert

quiet obsession for motorsport engineering

not drawn to the glamour of racing but to the physics of it

= fluid dynamics, tire compounds, energy recovery systems

bedroom walls plastered with diagrams of F1 aerodynamics

scribbles differential equations on her homework

HOW IT BEGINS

at age 12

she stumbles upon a documentary about Adrian Newey

becomes fixated

builds miniature wind tunnels out of cardboard and obsessively testing toy car designs

Namjoon finds her at 2 a.m.

= adjusting the angle of a paper rear wing with surgical precision

First Conversation

“Appa, did you know downforce is just controlled air resistance? It’s… math in motion.”

he blinks

coffee forgotten

“You… built this?” 

kneels beside her

studying her makeshift lab

“Explain it to me. Slowly.”

NAMJOON’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“She’s a genius. A literal genius.”

Worry

“Racing is dangerous. What if she gets hurt? What if the world exploits her mind?”

Guilt

“Did I push her into overthinking? Is this my fault?”

What He Says

Day 1:

“Let’s start with the basics. What’s your favorite part? The engineering or the speed?”

Week 2:

“I found a junior karting team with a good engineer. Interested?”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

education first

enrolls her in STEM camps

tho lets her skip lectures to shadow a Hyundai N mechanic

“Experience is the best teacher.”

karting phase

buys a used kart

insists she designs the modifications herself

“You want to race? Build it first.” 

they spend nights in the garage

her hands greasy, his glasses smudged

safety obsession

researches FIA safety protocols

gifts her a custom HANS device for her 15th birthday (Head and Neck Support device)

“Your brain is your greatest asset. Protect it.”

CONFLICTS

First Crash

she flips her kart during a test run

he sprints to the track

panic clawing his throat

finds her already out, scribbling notes on a clipboard

“The roll cage held! My calculations were right!”

His Response

Outward Calm

“Good. Now let’s improve the chassis.”

Inward Meltdown

calls Yoongi at 3 a.m

“Hyung, what if I’m failing her, what if she gets hurt?”

LEAP TO F4

at 15/16

recruited by a Formula 4 team

he negotiates her contract

adding clauses for academic continuity

“You’ll finish school. And change the game.”

Proudest Moment

watching her explain energy recovery systems to engineers twice her age

“That’s my kid...”

Quote to Her

“You’re not just a driver. You’re a visionary. Make them see it too.”

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

CHILD

Name: Ha-Eun (she/her)

Team: Kart Republic → Iron Dames (F4/F3), Possible Future: Ferrari Driver Academy (if she pushes herself hard)

Personality

bubbly, competitive extrovert

lives for the thrill of the race and the cheers of the crowd

she’s less about the mechanics

more about the drama

customizing her kart with glitter sticker

naming it “Pink Lightning”

trash-talking Jin (and the rest of Bangtan) during backyard races

her dream?

= be the first (female) F1 driver with a themed victory dance

HOW IT BEGINS

during a family outing at an amusement park

she drags Jin to the go-kart track

overtakes him on the final lap

“BYE, APPA!”

staff hands her a plastic trophy

“I’m gonna be a racing queen.”

First Conversation

Ha-Eun: “Appa, I’m faster than your dad jokes!” Jin: “Yah! That’s Worldwide Handsome’s kart you’re insulting!” 

fake-pouts, then grins

“But fine. Let’s see if you can handle real competition.”

JIN’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“She’s a star. A sparkly, chaotic star.”

Panic

“What if she flips the kart? What if someone breathes on her wrong?”

Excitement

“Finally, a worthy rival for my Singin’ in the Rain karaoke crown.”

What He Says

Day 1:

“Okay, champ. Rule #1: Always let your Appa win. Rule #2: Never follow Rule #1.”

Week 2:

“I booked us matching racing suits. Yours has glitter. Mine has my face.”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

themed training

turns practice into “Jin/ Ha-Eun Grand Prix” events

cones become “dinosaur obstacles”

pit stops involve juice boxes and dad-joke riddles

“What’s a race car’s favorite snack? Vroom-sticks!”

safety first (but make it fashion)

buys her a neon pink helmet with “PRINCESS OF SPEED” on the side

“Safety’s boring unless it’s fabulous.” 

secretly researches the safest tracks

social media hype

posts slow-mo videos of her wins set to “I’m the Best” by 2NE1

caption: “Future F1 CEO. (P.S. I taught her everything.)”

CONFLICTS

First Loss

she loses a local race by 0.5 seconds

throws her gloves

yelling

“I HATE KARTING!”

Jin’s Response

outward calm

“Okay, let’s hate together. Dramatic sigh I hate… broccoli. And slow Wi-Fi.”

inward angst

texts Yoongi

“How do I fix a broken heart? Asking for a tiny dictator.”

solution

hosts a “Losers’ Party” with pizza, disco lights, and a dance-off

“Win the next race, and we’ll crash a real F1 party. Deal?”

LEAP TO COMPETITIVE KARTING

at 11

she joins a regional league

he becomes her hype man

waving a custom banners

“HA-EUN: FASTEST & PRETTIEST.”

Proudest Moment

watching her podium speech

“Thanks to my Appa, who’s almost as cool as my kart.” 

he fake-sobs into the mic

“She’s lying! I’m cooler!”

Quote to Her

“Remember: If you’re not first, you’re… still my favorite. But always try to be first.”

note: definiteley plays EA F1 with her, or the sim but NEVER wins

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

CHILD

Name: Yumi (she/her)

Team: Hitech GP or ART Grand Prix, Possible Future: Alpine Academy (quiet prodigy path)

[note: pit engineers start whispering, “She sees lines we don’t” after analyzing her onboard footage]

Personality

fierce, stubborn introvert with a gasoline-and-metal soul

she’s tactical

calculating lap times in her head during dinner

thrives under pressure

her idea of small talk? 

“Appa, do you think Verstappen’s tire strategy in Singapore ’23 was reckless?”

HOW IT BEGINS

at 10 (after years of building Carrera tracks, and decorating her walls with team posters)

she discovers an old racing sim in Yoongi’s studio

he’d bought it years ago (probably for a one time try)

she sneaks in

cracks the top 10 global leaderboard under the username “SHADOWSPEED”

Yoongi finds her asleep at the rig

hands still gripping the controller

First Conversation

“…You did this?”

gestures to the screen where her lap record glows

Yumi: “It’s not hard. Just physics.” Yoongi: “Wear these. The engine sounds are better.”

silently hands her his noise-canceling headphones

YOONGI’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“She’s a goddamn prodigy.”

Terror

flashbacks of his own accident

= rain-slick roads, injured shoulder, the smell of burnt rubber

“What if she…?”

Resolve

“If she’s gonna do this, I’ll make sure she’s safe. Even if it kills me.”

What He Says

Day 1:

“You want to race? Fine. But you learn to fix the engine first.”

Week 2

slaps a fireproof racing suit on the kitchen table

“Try it on. Before you argue.”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

karting phase

buys a secondhand kart

spends months reinforcing the chassis himself (with her)

“Safety isn’t optional. Ever.”

F4 debut

pulls all strings to get her a spot on a team

insists on meeting every engineer

“The car’s data system is shit. Upgrade it or I walk.”

rainy day ritual

texts her a single emoji before wet races: 🌧️

code for “Don’t be a hero. Just come home.”

CONFLICTS

Crash

she spins out during a monsoon-like F3 qualifier

Yoongi watches from the pit wall

jaw clenched so tight he almost cracks a molar

when she limps back, he barks

“You’re done.”

Her Rebellion

Yumi: “You don’t get it! This is my life!” Yoongi: “I do get it. I’ve..” 

slams his fist on the table

voice shaking

rolls up his sleeve

shows the surgery scar on hie shoulder

“This is what ‘life’ looks like when it goes wrong.”

Resolution

they don’t speak for days

Yoongi appears at her door with a helmet

modified with extra impact padding

“Race smart. Or I’ll sell the sim.”

SUZUKA GIFT

her 14th birthday

he tosses her an envelope

inside, two VIP passes to the Japanese Grand Prix

“Pack your bags. And… bring a notebook. Take notes on the real pros.”

At Suzuka

she vibrates with excitement

scribbling notes on tire temps and apex speeds

Yoongi is silent

grips her hand during the start

“If you ever…”

he stops

clears his throat

“Just watch, yeah?”

that night, he admits it over ramen

“I hate this. But I'd hate seeing you not do it more.”

ONGOING SUPPORT

custom safety gear

commissions a fireproof suit

her name stitched inside

“For luck. Don’t tell the team.”

post-race ritual

plays her a lullaby-like piano track he composed

“Checkered Flag Lullaby”

it calms her adrenaline

legacy

secretly funds a junior racing scholarship in her name

“So the next kid doesn’t need a scared shitless dad to make it.”

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

CHILD

Name: Min-Jae (he/him)

Team: Williams Racing Young Design Talent → Karting Support Team Livery Artist → Mercedes Junior Creative Division, Possible Future: Lead Livery Director for Mercedes or independent design phenom running his own F1 visual branding agency

Personality

bubbly, hyper-creative whirlwind with a neon imagination

hands are perpetually stained with marker ink

tarted sketching liveries at 5

he talks a mile a minute about "making cars dance with colors!"

he names his designs things like “Rainbow Rocket” and “Glitter Shark”

HOW IT BEGINS

at 5

Min-Jae scribbles a chaotic, crayon masterpiece on the living room wall

= a race car with rainbow flames and polka-dot wheels

J-Hope, mid-dance practice, freezes

“Yah! Is that… a car?” 

he beams

“Appa, it’s faster than your moves!”

First Conversation

“Explain this. Now.” 

trying to sound stern but failing miserably

Min-Jae: “The polka dots are speed bubbles! And the rainbow is for when it flies!” J-Hope: “…You’re a genius. But never draw on walls again. Here, use this.” 

hands him a F1 sketchbook

J-HOPE’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“My kid’s a creative monster! Look at those colors!”

Panic

“How do I nurture this without our house turning into a graffiti warzone?”

Excitement

“We’re gonna collab. Father-son design duo. Let’s go!”

What He Says

Day 1:

“Min-Jae-ya, let’s make a rule: Paper only. Unless it’s Appa’s dance shoes... those need glitter.”

Week 2: 

“... gonna teach you about balance. No, not math... color balance! It’s like choreography for your eyes!”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

art studio overhaul

converts the guest room into “Min-Jae’s Mad Lab”

= walls covered in whiteboard paint

shelves stocked with every art supply known to humankind

J-Hope hangs a sign: “Caution: Genius at Work.”

field trips

takes him to the Seoul Auto Show

letting him interrogate designers

“Why is that car boring? It needs fangs!” 

J-Hope translates

“He’s asking about… aerodynamic expression!”

matching kits

designs father-son overalls with “Team Hope-Jae” logos

Min-Jae adds doodles to J-Hope’s pair

= a tiny ARMY bomb with wings

CONFLICTS

Meltdown

Min-Jae throws a marker at a failed design

“It’s ugly! I hate it!” 

J-Hope swoops in

spinning him in a chair

His Response

tough love

“Yah! Markers are for art, not tantrums.”

encouragement

“Remember when Appa fell during ‘Dope’? I ate the stage! You gotta own the mess!”

collaboration

they “trash” the design together

splattering paint everywhere

the result?

livery titled “Chaos Victory”

LEAP TO KARTING

at 9/10

local karting team asks Min-Jae to design their livery

J-Hope films the entire process for VLOG content

crying behind the camera

“That’s my son! Look at him glow!”

Proudest Moment

watching Min-Jae present his design

= a tiger-striped kart with holographic accents

team owner whispers

“He’s… ten?” 

J-Hope grins

“Nine next week. Discount rate.”

Quote to Him

“You’re not just an artist. You’re joy on wheels. Make the world dance with you!”

PARK JIMIN

CHILD/TWINS

Names: Min-Jae (son) & Hae-Won (daughter)

Personalities

Min-Jae

Team: Red Bull Racing - Young Driver Programme, Possible Future: Red Bull Racing (F1) or AlphaTauri as his launchpad

[note: already has a penalty record in karting]

hot-headed

bold

fiercely competitive

drives for Red Bull Racing - Young Driver Programme

idolizes Max Verstappen’s aggression

wore his racing gloves during dinner when he was younger

Hae-Won

Team: McLaren - Young Driver Programme, Possible Future: McLaren F1 Team or Aston Martin (Talent-Precision Hybrid Route)

analytical

ice-cool under pressure

races for McLaren - Young Driver Programme

worships Lando Norris

keeps a race logbook titled “Emotion is Drag."

Dynamic

sibling rivalry on steroids

they debate tire strategies over breakfast

bet allowance money on lap times

refuse to carpool to the track

HOW IT BEGINS

at 4

they’re given toy karts for Christmas (Jungkooks gift)

Jimin films them racing around the living room

giggling as they crash into the couch

by 12, they’re dominating local karting leagues

Min-Jae wins by sheer grit

Hae-Won by calculating apex speeds

First Rivalry Flashpoint

during a regional final

Hae-Won blocks Min-Jae on the last lap

he retaliates, spinning her out

Jimin, watching in horror, sprints to the track

Jimin’s Reaction

outward:

forces them to shake hands

“You’re teammates first. Always.”

inward:

cries in the bathroom

texting Namjoon

“Hyung, what if I’m ruining them?”

JIMIN’S DAD MODE

Support System

dual team gear

wears a Red Bull cap and McLaren jacket to races

“I’m Switzerland. Neutral but fabulous.”

pre-race rituals

braids Hae-Won’s hair

for “aerodynamics”

tightens Min-Jae’s helmet strap

“Breathe. Think. Don’t murder each other.”

slips handwritten notes into their cars

“Proud of you. Love, Appa.”

Conflict Mediator

post-race debriefs

hosts “Family Meetings” with a whiteboard

“Min-Jae, stop dive-bombing. Hae-Won,stop smirking when he does.”

therapy sessions

drags them to family counseling

therapist quits after three sessions

“They’re… ´too passionate.” 

JIMIN’S FEARS

safety

stares at crash compilations at 3 a.m. 

“What if I lose them both in one day?”

sibling estrangement

finds Hae-Won crying after Min-Jae calls her a “robot”

Jimin tucks her into his side

“He doesn’t mean it. He’s just… bad at feelings.”

burnout

cancels a tour date to attend their first F3/2 race

“They’ll only be kids once. Priorities.”

BREAKTHROUGH

Monaco F2 Incident

Min-Jae and Hae-Won qualify P2 and P3

on lap 15, they battle through the hairpin

tires screeching, inches apart

Jimin clutches one of the members arms so hard he leaves bruises (they all came to watch)

Post-Race

they podium together

Hae-Won 1st, Min-Jae 3rd

instead of fighting, Min-Jae hugs her

“Don’t get used to it...” 

Jimin sobs into a custom Red Bull-McLaren flag

Jimin’s Proudest Moment

overhearing Hae-Won defend Min-Jae to a reporter

“He’s the only driver I’d trust to race wheel-to-wheel with.”

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

CHILD

Name: Min-Jae (he/him)

nicknamed "MJ" by the press

"Jae-Jae" by Taehyung

Team: Ferrari Driver Academy (F4 → F3 → F2)

Personality

firecracker with a Senna poster taped to his bedroom ceiling

brash, fearless

allergic to caution

MJ thrives on the edge

overtakes on the inside

revs engines like they’re percussion instruments

wears a permanent smirk under his helmet

media dubs him “The Little Phoenix” after he flips his kart in qualifiers only to podium the next day

Obsessions

Ayrton Senna’s 1988 Monaco GP

“He drove like it was jazz!”

customizing his gloves with paint splatters

“For luck. And style.”

collecting vintage racing helmets/suits

Tae turned his bedroom into a “museum” with display cases

HOW IT BEGINS

at 10

MJ finds Tae’s old Rush DVD

watches it 17 times in a week

then drags Tae to a go-kart track

he watches MJ lap seasoned adults while humming “Boy With Luv.”

First Conversation

MJ: “Appa, I wanna fly like Senna.” Taehyung: “…In a car? Or literally?” 

TAEHYUNG’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Awe

“He’s a painting in motion. A… Pollock with a steering wheel.”

Terror

“He’s going to die. I’m going to watch my child die.”

Pride

texts the group chat

“MY SON’S A GOD. SUCK IT, KOOK.” (ofc banter)

What He Says

Day 1:

“You’re not allowed to die. Ever. It’s in the dad contract.”

Week 2:

“Let’s make your kart art. Pink flames? Gold tires? Yes.”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

aesthetic overhaul

designs MJ’s kart livery

= neon splatter paint inspired by Basquiat

“If you’re gonna be fast, be iconic.”

mental health checks

hires a therapist who races

“Dr. Nara does donuts and CBT. Multitasking queen.”

Senna pilgrimage

takes MJ to São Paulo (his favourite track)

films him crying at Senna’s grave

posts it with “Legends recognize legends” 

MJ threatens to leak his unfinishes tracks

CONFLICTS

MJ attempts a Senna-style “no-look overtake” in the rain

kart hydroplanes into a barrier

Tae, mid-photoshoot in Milan, flies home on a private jet

still wearing Gucci loafers in the ICU

His Response

outward: 

“You’re grounded. To… the kart track. After you heal.”

inward:

paints a mural titled “Phoenix Rising” on MJ’s cast

“Scars are just proof you outran death.”

LEAP TO F4

at 14/15

MJ joins Formula 4

Tae negotiates a sponsorship deal

the car?

= a rolling canvas

abstract designs that shift under UV lights

Proudest Moment

MJ wins his first race

dedicates it to “Appa, who taught me crashes are just plot twists.”

Quote to Him

“You’re not just a driver. You’re a performance artist. The track’s your stage... burn it down.”

JEON JUNGKOOK

CHILD

Name: Haneul (Sky) (she/her)

Team: ART (Asia Racing Team) (F4 → F3 → F2)

Personality

spitfire with a lead foot and a chip on her shoulder

Haneul inherited Jungkook’s competitive strea

battles a storm of self-doubt in a male-dominated sport

she’s all grit behind the wheel

= aggressive overtakes, daring late brakes

off-track, she folds her race suits meticulously

as if perfection could armor her against the world’s whispers

“They don’t see a driver. They see a girl driver.”

HOW IT BEGINS

at 6

Haneul begs to ride shotgun in a Porsche GT3 during a track day

he lets her “steer” on a straightaway

her tiny hands gripping the wheel like it’s a lifeline

“Faster! Faster!” 

she shrieks, and Jungkook grins

First Race

he buys her a junior kart for her 8th birthday

they paint it purple and gold

“Team Jeon colors”

he kneels in the gravel

teaching her heel-toe braking

“Smooth, Haneul-ah. Like dancing.”

JUNGKOOK’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“She’s a natural. Look at her lines...cleaner than mine at her age.”

Fear

“What if she gets hurt? What if they break her spirit?”

Protective Fury

“I’ll crash anyone who touches her.”

What He Says

After Her First Win (Age 10)

“You’re a monster out there. Proud of you, champ.”

When She Asks for F4 (Age 15)

“You sure? It’s not just speed. It’s war.”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

training regimen

wakes her at 5 a.m. for endurance runs

then cooks galbi at midnight after sim sessions

“Champions don’t sleep. Naps.”

public persona

uses his fame to shield her

brings her on live, arm around her shoulders

“Meet my co-pilot. She’s better than me.”

tattoo

after her F4 debut

he inks her car number (#07) and chassis outline on his ribs

shows her post-race

“Now you’re always with me.”

CONFLICTS

First Slur

rival team owner mutters “Go back to makeup tutorials” during qualifying

Haneul pretends not to hear

Jungkook slams his fist into a garage locker

denting the metal

His Response

outward

storms into the stewards’ office

demands the man’s ban

“Apologize to my daughter. Or I’ll park my car in your pit lane.”

inward: 

cries alone

“I should’ve protected her better.”

Haneul’s Breaking Point

she quits mid-season after online trolls photoshop her into a doll

Jungkook finds her dismantling her helmet in the garage

Dialogue

Haneul: “I’m not strong like you. I can’t just… ignore it.” Jungkook: “You think I don’t see the comments? ‘Washed-up idol. Failed racer.’”

COMEBACK

Training Redemption

Jungkook hires a female ex-F1 test driver as her coach (Jessica Hawkins) 

“Learn from the best. Better than me.”

Proudest Moment

Haneul podium’s in F4

dedicating the win to “the Appa who taught me to never lift.” 

Jungkook, wearing her #07 cap, sobs into his headset

Quote to Her

It still smells like peppermint. Faint, but still there. Soft and clean and ghostlike. The mug on your coffee table is empty — no trace of warmth left in the ceramic, but the shape of it feels recent. Like someone placed it down gently. Like someone didn’t want to wake you.

The blanket over your legs is still tucked neatly at the sides, folded in at the edges like a quiet gesture you almost missed. You blink slowly, staring at it for a few seconds before it registers — Jimin is gone.

He didn’t leave a note. He didn’t need to. You also hadn’t expected a goodbye, not really. He moves through space like water — he fills it, carries you if you let him, and then leaves without asking for anything. And somehow, what he leaves behind feels more meaningful than words ever could.

The apartment is quiet now. Still.

The kind of stillness that makes you aware of your own heartbeat. The soft hum of the refrigerator. The faint creak of the wood under your couch as you shift your weight. Every sound amplified by the absence of another presence.

But it’s not a lonely kind of quiet. Not quite. But a bit lonely, nevertheless.  

You exhale, long and slow, letting your head fall back against the cushion.

There’s a light pressure behind your eyes — the last trace of the hangover, maybe, or just the ghost of the dream you had before Jimin showed up. You can’t remember it now. Just a feeling. A sharpness. That sensation of being underwater without knowing how you got there.

Your limbs feel heavy, but not weighed down. Just… warm. Like you’ve been wrapped in a cocoon you didn’t realize you needed.

And now, you feel the absence.

Your eyes flutter shut again — just for a moment. Not to sleep, but to feel the room. The shift.

It's strange how easy it is to feel when he's gone. You stay there, breathing. Letting the quiet wrap around you, slow and padded, like the world is giving you a little more time before it starts spinning again. Your fingers curl slightly under the edge of the blanket. The couch cushions dip just the slightest beneath you. Everything feels still in a way it hasn’t for days.

And yet…

It’s not just stillness that settles in your chest. It’s something else, too.

A hum you can’t quite place. A presence that doesn’t belong to the peppermint or the folded blanket or even to Jimin’s echo.

You try not to name it. Try not to go there.

But your thoughts are already pulling in another direction.

His direction.

The way Jungkook had looked at you yesterday — not during a conversation, not in any obvious way, just in a moment you happened to glance up — like he saw something he hadn’t expected to see. The way his mouth had twitched like he wanted to say something but didn’t. The way he didn’t look away until you did.

You hadn’t thought about it much at the time. Now you can’t seem to stop.

The silence stretches again.

And then — the buzz.

Sharp against the cushion. One short vibration. Then another.

You open your eyes, slowly. Turn your head toward the sound. Your phone is still facedown. Like it knew you wouldn’t be ready.

You reach for it, thumb dragging across the screen. It lights up — too bright at first — and you squint, blinking against it.

Two notifications.

The first one makes you snort softly, right on cue.

[My one and only true love 3:43 PM]: Okay. I’m really giving you a break today.  [My one and only true love 3:45 PM]: But tomorrow? I want names.  [My one and only true love 3:45 PM]:And context.  [My one and only true love 3:45 PM]:And height-to-hotness ratios.

You consider replying. You even start to type.

But the second notification catches your eye — and suddenly your fingers pause. [JK 1:12 PM]: Still alive?

Your thumb stills above the keyboard. The words are short. Barely anything. Just enough. But you feel them settle in your chest anyway.

You stare at the screen, heart thumping slightly out of step.

You don’t know why it feels heavier coming from him. Maybe because everything from him feels like it might mean something — even when it doesn’t. Maybe because you still don’t know how much space he’s meant to take up in your day. Or maybe because… you kind of hoped he would text. And now that he has, you don’t know what to do with that hope.

You type back, simple.

[ You 3:46 PM]: Depends who’s asking.

The reply comes faster than you expect. Like he has been waiting near the phone the entire time. 

[JK 3:46 PM]: Just someone who heard you lost a fight to soju.

Your brows lift. So he knows. Somehow. Someone told him. But who?

You hesitate, then reply:

[JK 3:47 PM]: Amazing. Didn’t realize my downfall was public info.

[JK 3:47 PM]: It is now. You set a new record, apparently. Very dramatic.

You roll your eyes. But you’re already smiling. Just a little.

You tap your fingers against the edge of the phone, then type:

[You 3:47 PM]: Glad to know I’m leaving a legacy.

And then — a pause. A longer one.

Not longer then a minute. Just long enough to make you wonder.

Then his message blinks across the screen:

[ JK 3:48 PM]: You always do.

You stop.

You stare at the words until the screen begins to dim, and you tap it once to keep it lit. You don’t reply. You don’t know how.

Because you’re still figuring out what any of this is.

Still figuring out what it means when someone like Jungkook says something like that — not just to you, but about you.

And if you’re being honest with yourself — really honest — you know it’s not just the words.

It’s the way your pulse stutters now. The way your stomach tightens, just slightly. The way you let your phone rest gently on the blanket beside you, like the weight of it might say too much.

You exhale, slow.

Outside, the city is still moving. Somewhere far off, a car honks. Someone laughs in the hallway.

But inside your apartment, it’s just you. And that message. And the strange little ache blooming behind your ribs. ----- The next day at work passed in a strange kind of haze.

The hangover was gone. The peppermint scent had faded from your hoodie, and the apartment felt emptier than it did the night before — though a blanket still folded neatly on the couch gave away that Jimin had really been there. You hadn’t heard from him since, just a message in the morning saying “Hope today’s kinder to you.”

You hadn’t answered.

There was too much noise in your head already — leftover static from dreams, memories, text messages that said you always do. And then there was work. The usual rush of prep before a Run BTS shoot, the whole office tense but pretending to be casual. Scripts, gear, last-minute call time changes. People bumping into each other and pretending it wasn’t on purpose.

By 6:40, someone shoved a clipboard into your hands with a breathless “Can you take this to Studio B?”

You were already halfway down the hall when you realized you didn’t mind the errand.

You didn’t really want to be around anyone. Except when you open the door to the smaller recording studio, it isn’t empty.

Jungkook’s already there.

He’s lounged back on the old leather couch, hoodie hood bunched behind his neck, legs sprawled comfortably. One of his feet bounces in the air, heel tapping the ground. He’s got his phone in hand and one earbud in, but it’s hanging halfway out, like he forgot about it.

He doesn’t see you at first. He’s grinning — really grinning — shoulders shaking with that soundless laugh you’ve seen when something online catches him just right. You freeze for half a second in the doorway, not sure whether to step back or knock or just stand there like a forgotten extra.

Then he looks up.

And you don’t know why it feels like you’ve been caught.

“Oh,” he says, still half-laughing. “You scared me.”

“I knocked.”

“You didn’t.”

You blink. “…I thought I did.”

He smiles, and it makes your stomach shift a little too fast.

You hold up the clipboard in your hand. “Dropping these off. Tomorrow’s call sheets.”

He nods and nudges the coffee table with his foot. “You can leave it here. Unless you want to read it out loud. Make it dramatic.”

You roll your eyes but cross the room anyway, placing the clipboard down gently on the edge of the table. You don’t miss the way his eyes flick toward you as you do — just for a second. A blink. But it’s there.

“Did you volunteer for this?” he asks, voice light.

“Why?”

He shrugs, stretching his arms behind his head. “I mean, it’s almost 7. Kind of feels like you wanted the walk.”

You glance at him, trying to keep your voice neutral. “Kind of feels like you’re reading too much into it.”

He laughs again — not unkind. Not sharp. Just… amused.

“I’ve been told I do that,” he says shrugging. “Once or twice.”

You hover by the table a moment longer, unsure if you’re dismissed or just lingering. But before you can move toward the door, he speaks again — this time a little quieter, but still casual.

“By the way… thanks. For the whole… mess the other day.”

You blink. “You mean—?”

He nods once. Doesn’t elaborate. Just lifts his hand in a little wave like he’s acknowledging something in the air between you both.

“I didn’t know you knew I helped with that.”

He gives a soft scoff. “Please. You’re the only one who would’ve made the managers sound like a calm older sister who’s also on the verge of quitting.”

You almost smile. “That’s… disturbingly accurate.”

“I thought so.”

Silence settles again, but it’s not uncomfortable.

He leans forward to pick up his phone, scrolling aimlessly now. You turn toward the door.

“You’re on the schedule at 8:45,” you say over your shoulder. “Try not to be late.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“More like a prayer.”

He huffs another laugh behind you. “See you tomorrow.”

You don’t look back when you leave, but you do catch your reflection briefly in the narrow studio window — the way your shoulders are still a little too stiff, your expression a little too carefully blank.

But your heart?

It’s doing that thing again.

The quiet kind of racing.

------- The studio was already buzzing by the time you arrived.

Staff filtered in and out of the side doors, trailing wires and clipped walkies, the usual pre-shoot chaos humming under every breath. You tucked your phone into your back pocket, tried not to think about the last conversation you’d had with either of them, and slid the call sheet onto the production table like it didn’t weigh more than it should.

Run BTS days always carried a different kind of energy. It wasn’t just content — it was the boys being themselves, half-scripted and half-chaotic. You’d noticed, over time, how even the quietest ones came alive here. Something about being in front of the camera without the full weight of an idol performance made them playful in a way that was rare to catch elsewhere.

You were adjusting the mic list when you heard your name.

“Y/N!”

It was Taehyung, waving dramatically from across the set like you were half a football field away.

“Come settle a bet,” he called.

You squinted. “Do I want to know what the bet is?”

Jimin appeared beside him, grinning like he’d already won. “You absolutely do.”

That’s when you noticed the screen behind them — the large monitor propped up for playback — currently displaying a paused Mario Kart track. Two controllers were sitting on the table, one already gripped tightly in Jungkook’s hands.

“Jungkook challenged me,” Jimin said, bouncing lightly on his heels. “Then he lost. And now he wants a rematch. But I refuse, so he wants to show he can beat anyone else. So we chose you.”

You blinked and pointed at yourself in disbelief. “Me?”

Jungkook, seated in one of the gamer-style chairs with his legs kicked up like he owned the place, smirked. “You talk a big game.”

You crossed your arms. “I’ve never talked any game.”

“That’s what makes you dangerous,” he replied, eyes gleaming.

Someone from the staff handed you the second controller, and it felt suspiciously like a setup — the way all the boys slowly started crowding behind the monitor, how Jimin was suddenly perched on the arm of the couch beside you, offering unsolicited tips.

“Watch the drifts in the third lap,” he murmured. “That’s where he gets cocky.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “Are you helping me or sabotaging me?”

He smiled, all sugar and mischief. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Jungkook chose the track. Something fast. Of course.

When the countdown began, your focus narrowed. Just you, the controller, and the digital chaos on screen. Around you, you were vaguely aware of voices — cheering, laughing, someone (probably Jin) commentating like it was the Olympics.

Jungkook was fast. Annoyingly fast.

But you were patient. Quietly calculating.

And in the last stretch of the final lap, you drifted perfectly around a corner, dodged a red shell, and zipped across the finish line less than half a second ahead.

The room exploded.

Hobi’s laugh was unmistakable as Jin threw his hands in the air. Taehyung screamed something unintelligible. Jimin laughed so hard he nearly fell from where he was sitting on.

Jungkook stared at the screen, jaw slack. Then he turned to look at you.

“That was luck.”

You leaned back, tossing the controller gently onto the couch. “Skill. Coated in humble confidence.”

“Rematch.”

“You’ll need time to recover.” You patted him on the shoulder. 

He huffed, half a laugh escaping before he could stop it. And then he smiled — a real one this time, boyish and bright.

Jimin passed behind you as the camera crew started setting up for the next segment. He didn’t say anything at first — just brushed his knuckles lightly across your shoulder in passing, a touch no one else would notice.

When he came back around, slipping into place beside you as the others were getting miked, he handed you a bottle of water without meeting your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked under his breath.

You nodded. “I think I just made a mortal enemy.”

He smiled. “Nah. That’s just Jungkook’s love language.”

Your stomach flipped — not because of the words, but the quiet way he said them. Like he knew exactly how light to make it. Exactly when not to push.

You looked at him then, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

Then the director called for first positions, and the moment scattered like loose change.

Still, when Jungkook passed you on the way to his mark, he bumped your shoulder lightly, a grin tucked half into the corner of his mouth.

“Round two’s coming,” he said.

You didn’t answer.

But you smiled anyway. -----

The hallway beyond the studio felt quieter than it should. Dimmer, too, the bright set lights replaced by the low ambient hum of backstage fluorescents. You rubbed your fingertips along your temple, trying to will away the strange buzz still dancing in your chest after the shoot.

Your badge swung slightly with each step as you wandered past stacked lighting gear and garment racks. A few of the stylists were packing up, their conversations soft and distant. Most of the boys had already vanished into dressing rooms or out the back exit.

You stepped into the green room without knocking — just enough to drop off the folder you’d been handed. Inside, it was quiet. A jacket draped over the couch, an open water bottle on the table. Jungkook was seated on the edge of the couch, scrolling through his phone, his expression unreadable until he glanced up and noticed you.

"Hey," he said, straightening slightly.

You held out the folder. "Call sheet for the weekend. You guys have a rehearsal slotted Sunday."

He set his phone down and took the folder from you, glancing at the cover. "Thanks."

"No problem."

You turned to leave, but his voice followed. "You know... you kind of crushed me today."

You blinked. "At Mario Kart?"

He let out a low chuckle. "I’m gonna pretend it wasn’t personal."

"Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I’m just that good."

Jungkook tilted his head like he was considering that. "Dangerously humble. It’s a deadly combo."

You smirked, letting the moment stretch just long enough to make your heart feel a little too aware of itself.

“How’s your recovery from trying to beat Sana in drinking?” He asked casually. 

Your eyebrows shot up. "How do you—"

His grin widened. "Let’s just say... death by soju doesn’t go unnoticed."

You narrowed your eyes, trying not to smile. "I’m going to start interrogating people."

"You won’t need to. I’m very susceptible to guilt. And bribery."

You laughed despite yourself, glancing down at the call sheet again. Something about this was easier than it should’ve been.

Then footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Taehyung appeared, slowing as soon as he saw the two of you. He stopped a few paces away, taking in the scene without saying a word.

You braced for something.

He didn’t disappoint.

"You know," he said, pointing between the two of you, "if you’re gonna stand that close and smile that much, at least try to look a little less obvious."

Jungkook groaned, head tipping back with a dramatic sigh. "Hyung—"

Taehyung raised both hands, backing away slowly. "Hey, hey. Don’t mind me. I’m just an innocent bystander. An observant one. But innocent nonetheless."

Then, just before turning the corner, he added over his shoulder, "Cute, though. Seriously."

You stared after him.

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, then looked at you with something caught between amusement and apology.

"He’s going to milk that for weeks."

You sighed. "Guess we’re doomed."

"Could be worse," Jungkook said.

And the way he looked at you — not teasing, not intense, just quietly sure — made it very hard to argue. ---- The studio floor had emptied out more than you realized. One minute you were dodging prop boxes and laughing with Yoshi while the post-filming chaos still lingered, and the next — you were standing by the stairwell with a half-empty water bottle in hand, waiting for the elevator that seemed determined not to arrive.

"You always disappear right before the fun part," Jimin’s voice cut through the quiet like a familiar song.

You turned, half startled, half expecting him. He was already walking toward you, hoodie draped loosely over his shoulders, hair still damp from the earlier shoot, and something soft behind his eyes. Like he’d been waiting for a moment alone just like this.

You gave a weak smile. "Didn’t know there was a fun part."

He stopped in front of you, leaning a shoulder lightly against the wall. "There’s always a fun part."

The hallway buzzed gently with silence. A light flickered above you, casting slow-moving shadows. You tightened your grip on the bottle.

"Tired?" he asked, glancing down at your hands.

You shrugged. "A little. I think the last twenty-four hours finally caught up to me."

He nodded slowly, like he understood more than you were saying.

"Thanks for yesterday," you said after a moment.

"You already said that."

You looked up. "Well, I’m saying it again."

He smiled at that, then tilted his head slightly. "Want a ride home? I’ve got time."

You hesitated. For a breath. Maybe two. Then nodded. Why not?

---- 

The city passed in fragments outside the window, a patchwork of late-night haze and quiet. Yellow-tinted streetlights blinked over sidewalks. Neon signs flickered half-heartedly from the windows of half-closed stores. Inside the car, it was warm — too warm — and you didn’t bother removing your coat. You felt the press of it, like a shield. A weight you weren’t quite ready to shrug off.

Jimin didn’t put on music. You didn’t ask. The air between you hummed with an unspoken rhythm, one you couldn’t place.

"You’re quiet," he said, glancing at you as the car slowed at a red light. "I thought I’d at least get a dramatic monologue about the evils of filming variety shows in the cold."

You gave a soft huff, the corner of your mouth twitching. "You’re lucky I’m too tired to perform."

"I’m devastated," he said, placing a hand dramatically over his chest.

Your gaze drifted back out the window. You traced the fog from your breath with a fingertip on the glass. "It’s just been... an intense week."

"I know the feeling," he murmured. His tone didn’t shift. He didn’t offer advice. He just agreed, like it was the only thing worth saying.

"It’s not even anything specific. Just… the internship. The schedule. The pace of it all. Its been almost three months but feels like im here for much longer but at the same time much less. It’s weird." You gave a little shrug, as if brushing the weight off your shoulders could make it lighter. "Everything’s just a bit much sometimes."

He stayed silent. The hum of the car filled in what you didn’t say.

Then, his voice returned, lighter this time. "If it makes you feel better, I’m very impressed by how professional you looked while holding a bag of cucumbers today."

That pulled a laugh from your chest. You shot him a side glance. "Stop."

"Dead serious. Iconic. Might be the most glamorous thing I’ve seen all week."

The light turned green, and he eased the car forward. You leaned into your seat and sighed. Something about him — the way he let the serious and silly fold over each other — always managed to unravel you in pieces. Quiet ones.

"You’re good at this," you said softly.

"At what?"

"Disarming people."

He glanced at you, his smile widening. "You make it sound like I’m a spy."

"Maybe you are. The charming kind. Gets people talking when they don’t mean to."

"Ah," he said, mock-serious. "So I’m dangerously persuasive. Noted."

You lifted an eyebrow. "I’m saying you’re sneaky. Subtle. The kind of person who probably gets away with way too much."

He gasped in mock offense. "I’m wounded."

"You’ll survive."

He turned onto your street, the familiar row of buildings falling into place outside the window. But he didn’t stop in front of yours. Instead, he pulled up further, into a quieter spot shaded by trees and dim streetlight.

The engine ticked as he cut it. Neither of you moved.

You sat in the silence, eyes on your hands folded in your lap, while Jimin’s rested casually on the wheel like he wasn’t in a rush to end whatever this was.

"We’re okay, right?" he asked after a moment. Quiet. Careful.

You nodded slowly. "I think so."

He didn’t speak right away. You could feel his gaze, warm and open.

"You’ve seemed different lately. Not bad. Just… like your head’s somewhere else."

You traced another foggy line on the window. "Maybe it is. Everything just feels different, like something shifted and I haven’t caught up to it yet."

He didn’t press. Just waited.

"It’s not really about the job," you added quickly. "It’s nothing. And also… not nothing. I guess I’m still figuring it out."

His voice was low when he answered. "Want to know what I’m figuring out?"

You turned to him, surprised by the question. "What?"

"How long I can sit here before I do something really dumb."

Your breath caught.

He gave a small, knowing smile. "And it gets harder everytime you look at me like that. "

You didn’t look away. Your fingers tightened just a little in your lap. "Then maybe stop thinking about it."

He waited. A pause that felt like a held breath, long enough to ask without asking.

And then, slowly — like testing the weight of it — he leaned in.

The kiss was light. Barely a whisper between you. A question posed in silence. A warmth you hadn’t realized you were craving. It wasn’t a hot or passionate kiss, but rather something soft, uncertain — like both of you were trying to remember how to breathe through it. It was the kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything, didn’t burn its way through your chest, but settled there gently, like the warmth of a hand over your heart. It asked nothing but permission. It didn’t shout. It didn’t shake. It just… existed, tender and fleeting. Like a pause between thoughts. Like a secret neither of you had the words to speak yet.

But it didn’t last for long.

Because just as the moment settled — just as the softness of it bloomed in your chest — you pulled away.

The car felt too close now. Too still. Your hand reached for the door.

"I should—"

He nodded.

You stepped out into the cold. The night air stung your cheeks in a way that reminded you where you were. Grounded you.

The door shut behind you. Your boots clicked against the pavement as you walked towards the door of your apartment building.

And then—

Your name.

Spoken low. Firm.

You turned as he caught up to you. 

No hesitation this time.

His hand found the back of your head softly but firmer. His eyes found your mouth.

And he kissed you again.

Fuller. Warmer. Still careful, but more certain — like he’d decided he didn’t want to let you walk away wondering. This kiss wasn’t rushed, but there was urgency beneath the tenderness. A silent insistence that said: I meant that. It carried something heavier than the first — not pressure, but presence. His thumb brushed along your jaw as the kiss deepened just slightly, grounding you where you stood. Your breath caught somewhere between surprise and surrender. For a moment, you let yourself sink into it. The world narrowed. The streetlamp above you flickered. Somewhere in the distance, a car horn echoed and faded. But here — with his forehead resting lightly against yours — everything else disappeared.

You could feel your heart knocking against your ribs, too fast, too loud. Like it hadn’t caught up to what your body was already answering.

"I get to do dumb things sometimes too," he murmured resting his forehead against yours. You were with your eyes closed still trying to process what just happened. 

You didn’t answer.

But you didn’t let go either. You didn’t know how long you stood there, in the middle of the sidewalk, breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, Jimin’s warmth still lingering on your lips.

The street was quiet. Only the distant hum of a passing car reminded you the world hadn’t completely stopped. But in your body? In your chest? Everything felt like it had come to a sudden, terrifying standstill.

He kissed you.

He kissed you.

Again.

And then he—

He just turned around and left.

No last word. No clever tease. Not even a backward glance.

He walked back to his car like that kiss hadn’t just rearranged your entire central nervous system.

You were still standing there like a glitch in a simulation when the car engine started. It purred low, then faded as the wheels rolled down the block.

Only when the red taillights disappeared from view did you finally move.

You turned slowly, let yourself walk the last few steps to your building, and fumbled with the code on the door twice before getting it right. Your fingers didn’t work properly. Your brain certainly didn’t.

Inside, the air felt colder than you expected. Or maybe that was just your skin trying to forget the way his hand held the back of your head.

You dropped your bag at the entrance. Your coat somewhere near the couch. Your shoes half-on, half-off by the mat.

And then you just stood there.

Completely and utterly flabbergasted.

What the hell had just happened?

You touched your lips. Once. Lightly. Like you could still trace the shape of him there.

This was a joke. It had to be. 

No.

This was your life.

You spun in place, hair swishing with the motion, like pacing would make your thoughts more manageable.

It didn’t.

He kissed you. Again. And it wasn’t some lingering almost-moment. Not some near miss like before. No. It was real. It happened.

And you let it happen.

You kissed him back. Oh God, what have you done? You should’ve kept your mouth shut. Never said anything. To anyone. Ever. In fact, you believe you should’ve just been able to speak ever again. 

You groaned and collapsed face-first onto the couch, muffling a scream into the nearest cushion.

What were you supposed to do now? Text him? Pretend it never happened? Throw your phone into the sea? Take a rocket and launch yourself into space and disapear forever?

You rolled over dramatically, now staring at the ceiling, limbs sprawled in defeat.

Should you call Evi?

No.

Yes.

No. Definitely not. She would ascend into a whole different plane of existence if she found out. You could already hear her voice in your head, pitch climbing with every syllable:

“YOU DID WHAT? With PARK JIMIN?! Girl, are you INSANE?”

You covered your face with both hands.

God. This was bad. This was… good? No. Complicated. This was very complicated.

And you were very possibly losing your mind.

You hadn’t even taken your makeup off. Your phone buzzed against your thigh, and you flinched like it had burned you.

But it wasn’t him.

Of course it wasn’t.

You lay there for another minute before sitting up and grabbing your phone anyway. You opened your notes app and typed exactly two words:

He kissed me.

Then you stared at them.

Then you deleted them.

Then you opened a new note:

What the fuck is happening.

You closed the app.

Typed Evi’s name in your contacts.

And stared.

You hadn’t done anything wrong.

Right?

But why did it feel like your entire body was filled with static electricity?

You groaned again and launched yourself backward onto the couch. You needed to sleep. Or scream. Or invent a time machine.

Anything but this. Your phone buzzed again.

This time, not a message. A FaceTime.

 My one and only true love is FaceTiming…

You screamed.

Not a little gasp, not a startled “oh”—a full-on, sharp yelp that shot out of you like a reflex. The sound echoed off your apartment walls, and you instantly slapped a hand over your mouth.

Your thumb still hit "accept."

Evi’s face exploded onto the screen, perfectly framed and flawless. Hair smooth and curled at the ends, lips lined with something expensive and terrifyingly red. Her brows looked like they were carved by gods.

“Why are you screaming like someone broke into your house?” she asked, calmly sipping from a matcha glass.

You blinked at her. “I thought you were a murderer. Or my boss.”

“Charming. This is the welcome I get?”

“You scared the hell out of me.” 

“You scare easily for someone who’s been hiding a man in her apartment.”

Your soul left your body.

You coughed. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb.” She leaned in dramatically. “I know that look. You’re flushed. Your hair’s doing that thing it does when you’re stressed but trying not to look stressed. Your eyes are twitchy. And unless it’s -3 degrees outside, that red on your cheeks isn’t from the cold.”

You adjusted your phone. “It is cold.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And yet you don’t look frozen. You look freshly kissed.”

You made a noise that wasn’t a laugh or a protest—just a long, whimpering exhale.

“Y/N,” she said slowly. “Was someone at your place again since yesterday?”

You said nothing.

“Someone tucked your blanket,” she continued. “Someone made you ramen. Someone bought you Pocari Sweat. You don’t even like Pocari Sweat. You drink it once a year and call it a ritual. And today you are jumpy and blushing. Spill, bitch. ”

You buried your face in your hand. “You are so dramatic.”

“I am your best friend. I’m allowed to be. Was it someone from work?”

“Evi…”

“Was it one of the boys?” Her eyes widened, manic energy building. “Wait. DON’T tell me. Blink once for yes, twice for no. Scratch your nose if it’s complicated.”

You burst out laughing, but it was too late—your fingers had brushed your cheek.

“I KNEW IT!”

“That was not a signal.”

“Too late. Evidence locked in.”

“Jesus Christ.”

She grinned at you. “Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

You stared at her through the screen. Your cheeks still felt warm. Your mouth—God, your mouth—still tingled faintly. Like the memory of his lips hadn’t quite left yet.

She tilted her head. “Was it good?”

You sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“Not a no.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m just saying—if someone kissed me and they were as hot as they sound, I would spiral, like, immediately.”

“Oh, I already spiraled.”

She beamed. “That’s my girl.”

There was a beat of silence, then her voice softened.

“You okay, though?” She dropped the subject just like that. She knew better then to press you. And she also knew when you were not jokinly freaking out. 

You looked away. Then back. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

She didn’t push. She didn’t fill the silence with noise like she normally would. Just… nodded. Like that was enough.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“Of course,” she replied. Then, after a pause: “Can I complain about my neighbor now?”

You blinked. “Absolutely.”

She launched into it instantly. “So this morning? He started blasting Cupid at seven a.m. again. Not even the good version—the sped-up TikTok remix. While dancing. In a tutu. On his balcony.”

You snorted. “Still the same three songs?”

“On a loop. My brain is bleeding. My sanity is held together by two hairpins and a dream.”

You grinned.

She leaned closer to the screen. “I’m serious. If I disappear one day, avenge me. I’ll be the one under the floorboards of his playlist.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

You nodded. “I do.”

“And when you’re ready,” she said, “I want the whole story. Over wine. With snacks. And a cheap galaxy projector.”

You smiled, eyes soft. “Deal.”

“Miss you.”

“Miss you too.” 

She gave you a long look, like she was reading every emotion off your face, then winked and hung up—leaving you in the quiet again.

But this time, it didn’t feel quite so loud.