#cheerleader

And now, you’re so accustomed to it that even a few minutes without it feel strange, almost unsettling — like something’s slightly off in the balance of things. You can imagine how your world must have tilted that day — the day you walked into your playground, your place, your little kingdom, expecting things to be just as they always were. The familiar faces, your people, your space. But this time… something was different.

The kids didn’t rush to you, didn’t crowd around asking how your day had been. Instead, all eyes were on someone else. Someone new. Someone you’d never seen before — who had shown up out of nowhere and, without permission, dared to step into your territory… maybe even steal a little of your spotlight.

The boy must have been your age, maybe even a bit older. He was new; you had never seen him in your whole life. You bet none of you have, and yet all your friends had flocked around him like a herd of cattle to its owner. You cleared your throat to make your presence known. All pairs of eyes turned to you, including the little boy's. That was the first time you saw him. He looked like that cartoon deer that your siblings loved so much, Banshi or something. You could never stand it.

His eyes were absurdly large, almost like liquid. You felt bad for him for no reason. Then, Anya, your best friend, acknowledged you. And just like that, the spell was broken. The circle shifted, and all the attention swung back to where it belonged — on you. Exactly as it should be.

That was the very first time you met Jeon Jungkook. And — much to his misfortune — the first time Jeon Jungkook met you. He decided, before the day was out, that he didn't like you very much.

Ages 10 and 12

Jungkook's friends called him Ace. He tried not to let it go to his head. He was good at most things — school, sports, and almost everything else. And he had a soft enough heart that when your brother showed up asking for a favor, he didn't immediately say no. Apparently, you had thrown a spectacular fit at home, flat-out refusing to go on the family vacation because no one could be trusted to look after your precious pet. Or, as your brother put it, you had managed to scare away five sitters in a row.

When most people talked about pets, the usual suspects came to mind — a puppy, a kitten, maybe even a calf if you were being unusual. But with you? Ordinary was never on the list.

In the few years Jungkook had known you, he’d seen you try to turn the most unpettable creatures into companions. First, there was the tarantula. Then a raccoon. A baby python. And, at one point, a mule. Each one eventually had to be relocated by your dad, either to a farm or back into the wild. So now Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder: what was it this time?

You were out on the porch when Jungkook arrived at your house with your brother and their friend Jacob. You were frantically scanning the yard, clearly searching for something.

“Kitty… KITTY… Here, kitty, come here!” you called out loudly.

Jungkook leaned closer to your brother and whispered, “Did she finally adopt a normal pet?”

“You’ll see,” was all your brother replied.

The three boys walked up to you. You were younger than all of them, yet somehow still taller. “He ran away! Again,” you announced the moment you noticed them approaching.

Your brother sighed. “Have you ever considered that maybe you’re keeping him against his will?”

“Shut up. He loves me,” you shot back defensively before returning to the urgent task of searching for your mystery pet.

“We’ll help you look,” Jungkook offered. You turned toward them immediately, a spark of hope lighting up your face.

“Yep. So… what does your cat look like?” Jacob asked casually. Your hopeful expression instantly shifted into a scoff; the very suggestion had almost offended you.

“Cat?” you repeated. “It’s not a cat.” Of course it wasn’t. Why had Jungkook even entertained the idea that you would adopt something as normal as a cat, and then name it Kitty? No, that is what sane people do. If anything, it was probably something ridiculous. A tiger cub. Maybe a hyena puppy.

"What is it then?” Jacob asked, voicing the exact question that had been circling in Jungkook’s head. As if on cue—like a dramatic entrance in a play—your beloved pet strolled out of the bushes.

"Kitty!" You crouched down immediately, voice going soft. "You had me worried."

Jungkook barely noticed the animal at first. Not until a loud, shrill scream rang out beside him. He turned just in time to see Jacob stumbling backward, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to get away.

“That’s a fucking lizard!”

“It’s an iguana.”

“It’s an iguana, you idiot,” Jungkook and you corrected him simultaneously.

“Whatever, bro. I am not sitting that.” With that, Jacob scrambled to his feet and bolted down the street, most likely heading straight home.

Your brother watched him disappear and sighed. “Well… I guess we can rule Jacob out as a sitter.”

“Why are you even looking for a sitter?” you asked. “I told you I’m not going.”

“Come on,” your brother groaned. “You promised you would go if we could find someone to watch him. Jungkook wouldn’t mind helping, right, Jungkook?”

Jungkook wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of a large lizard living in his house for a week. But the thought of you being away for that long? That part sounded pretty great.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he said flatly.

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow. “Then tell me, what do iguanas eat?”

“Uh… lettuce?” he guessed, blurting out the first vaguely healthy food that came to mind.

You gasped dramatically. “You’re going to starve him to death. Bro, he’d probably feed him cereal for dinner. I am not leaving Kitty with him.”

“I’m not an idiot, you know,” Jungkook shot back defensively. You looked at him for a moment.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

It took ten minutes of negotiation and four or five carefully considered hmms from Jungkook before you agreed to let him watch Kitty for the week. Let him. As though he had been desperately campaigning for the privilege of housing the wrinkly creature you insisted on calling your pet.

You led him to your room to hand over the supplies — the tank, the food, a handwritten care sheet that was frankly more detailed than most instruction manuals he'd read.

“So… why Kitty?” He finally asked the question he had been dying to know the moment he stepped on your porch.

“Um… I don’t know,” you said with a small shrug. “When I found him, he was being chased by the neighbor’s cat. When I finally saved him from Juno, he started purring at me. Just like a cat.”

Sometimes Jungkook genuinely couldn’t understand how someone like you could be so gentle with animals. The way you treated them was the complete opposite of how you behaved with people—soft, patient, caring. Jungkook almost smiled at the story. Almost. Then he remembered how mean you usually were to him.

“Iguanas don’t really make noise,” he pointed out.

“They do for me.”

Jungkook glanced down at the iguana lazily blinking in its tank.

“You’re lucky,” he muttered to the reptile. “She actually likes you.”

19 and 21

You were never a fan of the clean slate propaganda people pushed. Fresh starts were for people who had something to run from. You had spent years building something, a reputation, an aura, a particular quality of silence that fell over a room when you walked in. The kind that made people choose their words carefully. That made them want, instinctively, to impress you.

You were going to miss that. The careful eyes. The slight hesitation before someone spoke to you. Not for long, though. You'd built it once. You'll build it again.

Your mother was hugging you like you were being deployed. Your father moved quietly behind her, unloading the trunk with the efficiency of a man who had learned, over many years, not to comment on the volume of your luggage. And there was a lot of it. Enough that a passing person slowed down, looked at the pile, and then looked at you with something between respect and concern.

You wanted to cry — genuinely, unexpectedly — but decided not to because that would ruin your aesthetic. So you settled on kissing your mother on the forehead instead, looking down at the luggage as if you expected it to start walking on its own and settle in your apartment. With no particular effort, you glanced at the doorman.

That was all it took. Something in his expression shifted — the same way it always did with people — and he was already moving toward your luggage, gathering it up, carrying it into the lobby like it had been his idea all along. You didn't ask. You never really had to.

The building was nice. Expensive. You had not pitied your father's money when choosing it. It was close to campus — as close as you could get while still being adjacent to the city, still being able to hear it breathing outside your window at night. You needed that. The hum of somewhere that didn't sleep.

Room 1509— high enough for privacy, far enough from the elevator so you didn't have to listen to people moving all day.

With one last promise to your parents that you would call them every weekend, you bid them goodbye and walked up to the lift. The doors closed. For the first time in 19 years, you were alone in a space that was entirely yours. You allowed yourself exactly three seconds to feel something about that.

When you walked into your apartment, the luggage was already outside the door, scattered; you suppose the doorman had brought it, or whatever, you didn't really pay attention. You stepped around it without breaking stride, making a mental note to deal with it later — or find someone who would.

You set the beige basket on a table. It was the one thing you'd carried yourself, the entire journey, through the airport and the car ride and the lobby and the lift. You'd held it on your lap for five hours. You opened the lid. Smiling immediately.

"Hey, Albert." You cooed. He blinked up at you — eight months old, absurdly fluffy, already heavier than any duck had a reasonable right to be at his age. You reached in and lifted him out with the careful, practiced tenderness. "Was it stuffy in there?" You brought him up to your face, and he regarded you with an unimpressed look. "I'm so sorry. Five hours in that jail. Mom will never do it again."

Albert said nothing, of course. He was a duck. But he didn't pull away either, which you had long ago decided counted as forgiveness.

You had found him behind a school, near the small pond at the edge of the grounds, a tiny ball of yellow fur that had been separated from its mother by some kid who hadn't thought past the wanting of it. You'd spent three hours searching for the mother. Walked the entire perimeter of that pond twice, asked everyone nearby, and refused to leave until the sun was almost gone. Eventually, you had accepted the fact and taken him home. That was eight months ago. Your father had not yet attempted a relocation.

You settled onto the couch with Albert tucked against your chest, the apartment quiet around you, the city humming somewhere outside the window.

You fell asleep almost immediately, still in your outside clothes, Albert stepping down and waddling somewhere near your feet. The last thing you heard was the quiet, rhythmic sound of him working through his shredded lettuce. Bossing people around, apparently, took a toll on you.

*******

You woke up to a crash. For a moment, you just lay there, blinking at an unfamiliar ceiling, slightly confused. The skyline outside the large window had gone a pretty shade of orange, the sun mostly gone, the city settling into that amber hour of dusk.

Then the noise again. A thud, followed by something that sounded like a struggle. It was coming from directly outside your door. You got up, padded over, and pressed your ear against it.

"Shibal, who the fuck left their shit outside?" The voice was thick and gruff. Then the sound of a bark, wait bark? I thought pets were not allowed here. You opened the door a crack and peered out.

The first thing you saw was a naked back. Someone crouched on the floor, getting up slowly, a large brown dog orbiting him with a jubilant energy. Then he straightened. And it was a naked chest. He hadn't noticed you yet. He was looking down at your luggage — scattered exactly where you'd left it — like he was forming an opinion already, definitely not a good one. Then he looked up.

"Ma'am, do you need help with the luggage?"

You had approximately one second to process the face, and one second was not enough.

No, you thought. Absolutely not. This building has a hundred and something units. This is statistically impossible. This is not happening.

Jeon Jungkook looked at you.

You looked at Jeon Jungkook.

You almost considered slamming the door in his face, but you were not quick enough. He had recognized you, and you could tell the exact moment when realization hit him.

Within the next five seconds, you watched in real time as his expressions changed with the speed of light, 4 times. Confused. Astonished. Annoyed. And then the last one, which you didn't have a clean word for, a smile that wasn't really a smile, the expression of a person who has just lost a bet with the universe and finds it, against their will, a little bit amusing.

"Of course," he said, almost to himself. Then, louder: "Of course." Then, looking up, as if cursing the universe, "Of fucking course."

"Hi." You smirked, satisfied with the effect you still had on him.

*******

Three days. It has been three days exactly since you encountered Jungkook in your hallway after he fell face-first into your luggage and then stood half-naked in your hallway.

Three days of both of you trying to avoid each other like a plague, timing everything perfectly, just so you do not run into each other again. However, the efforts were more from his end; you did not really care that much, and honestly, you were lowkey offended that he did.

And as it turned out, the universe, apparently in a very funny mood, had decided his apartment was directly across the hall from yours. Right there. Opposite door. Of the dozens of empty units in this building, of the twenty or more he could have chosen, he was here, directly across from you. The word coincidence felt too generous.

So you had taken it upon yourself to accidentally run into him so that you could ask him why the hell he was avoiding you so determinably.

You were not someone people avoided. You were someone people adjusted themselves around, angled toward. Jeon Jungkook engineering his entire morning routine around not seeing you was something you could not let stand.

It took exactly two days of casual observation — observation, not watching, the distinction mattered — to establish exactly what time Jungkook left his apartment to go wherever the hell he went every morning.

It was ridiculous how much time you had in your hand, especially with the induction coming up on the very next day, and you having to prepare a special speech that was instructed to you in the mail. If Albert could talk and understand, he would definitely give you an earful about priorities and basic social behaviour.

Pressing your ear on the front door once again made you feel like a creep. Then you heard it, at exactly 7:45, the sound of a door clicking and then an electric beep of it locking again. You counted to 4 in your head before opening yours as well, and then giving the best performance of acting surprised before you even saw the figure.

Unfortunately tho, your Oscar-worthy performance was in vain because the person who stared at you, holding a hand to her heart as though you had scared her, was an old woman and not your childhood nemesis.

The woman gave you a very judgmental look before muttering something about manners and went along her way.

"You're into scaring old helpless women now?"

The voice came from your left. You turned around to see him leaning against his doorframe, casually biting an apple. A bag slung over his shoulder and his messy hair returned the warmth you felt that night.

"I thought it was you," you said, crossing your arms, meeting his eyes directly.

"You thought that 5 feet, 60-somethin, fragile old lady was me?"

"Umhmm. The resemblance is uncanny." Jungkook snickered at your wit.

He said nothing, just stared at you until he finished his entire apple as if establishing to you that you did not intimidate him. Then he turned and started walking toward the elevator.

“Wait,” you called before he’d even gone ten feet. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

Jungkook stopped, turned back, and took a couple of seconds before answering—settling on a lie. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Oh, really?” you said. “So you’ve just been taking the stairs every time you see me in the elevator… for fun?”

“I’m a health freak.” You scoffed, clearly unimpressed.

“Just admit it. You were avoiding me.” You uncrossed your arms and walked toward him at an unhurried pace until you were standing barely a foot away. Jungkook swallowed but didn’t step back. “You might be the cool, gym-obsessed Jungkook to everyone else, but to me, you’re still that awkward little boy who’s scared of girls.” From the years of being aqainted to you, one way or another, Jungkook had learned that you held no malice in your words, so his expression did not falter.

“And you haven’t changed either,” he said evenly. “Still the narcissistic little girl who thinks the world revolves around her.” He paused, holding your gaze. “Well, guess what, it doesn’t. Definitely not mine. So no—I wasn’t avoiding you. You do not hold that amount of importance in my life.” It stung more than you expected. Just a little—but enough for a flicker of embarrassment to rise to your face.

Your instincts told you to say something meaner, to cut deeper, to make him cry again, just like you did all those years ago in the school playground. But something stopped you, mostly his expressions, which did not match a single word he said, eyes just as wide and soft as the day you first met him.

"I fucking hate you."

"Yeah? The feeling's mutual, Bubbles." The old nickname had done something to you, something weird in your heart and stomach, almost like someone was tickling you with a feather. For a brief moment, you caught his gaze drop, your toes curling up instinctively. His expression shifted, and if you didn’t know better, you might’ve called it concern. You followed his line of sight—down to your bare feet. "Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?” he asked, momentarily forgetting the topic of the conversation.

"None of your business."

"Fine. Suit yourself." He turned away, slipping his headphones back on as he stepped into the elevator.

“Health freak, my ass,” you muttered under your breath before heading back to your apartment. You turned the handle to your door once, then twice, and then again. It did not budge. "Fuck."

You locked yourself out of your apartment.

Four hours. It has been four whole hours since you locked yourself out of the apartment. You had tried everything—or at least, everything you were willing to try. Which mostly meant turning the handle in different directions and hoping for a miracle. It didn’t work. Honestly, it was probably a good thing it didn’t; you’d be more concerned if it had.

Your pride, and, more importantly, your embarrassment, kept you from going downstairs to ask for help. At least the building had decent temperature control; otherwise, you might’ve frozen in the minimal clothing you had on.

In those four hours, the hallway had stayed mostly deserted. The only people you saw were a couple who gave you a suspicious look, probably assuming you were either a burglar or, worse, someone’s ex who had just been dumped.

Eventually, you gave in and sat down outside your door—after carefully checking the floor for any dust or stains, of course. Your eyes drifted to the plant placed beside Jungkook’s door. A single white flower bloomed from it, tilted away from you like it was deliberately ignoring you—or mocking you. "Stupid Jungkook." You sighed angrily as it was all his fault. Which it was, if he had not been avoiding you, you would not be here.

Another fifteen minutes passed before the elevator chimed again. You stood up immediately, ready to swallow your pride and ask for help. You changed your mind just as quickly when you saw the same boy you had so aggressively declared your hatred for that morning. He stopped mid-step when he saw you—still in the same pajamas he had left you in hours ago. His expression shifted from confusion to understanding, and then to amusement as the situation clicked into place. By the time he reached you, a laugh had already escaped him.

"Did you lock yourself out, Bubbles?" he asked. The nickname that had made something flutter earlier now only irritated you—like he was talking down to you.

"Don’t call me that," you snapped. "And I did not lock myself out. I’m just… inspecting the corridor for bugs."

"Uh-huh," he said dryly. "I’ll save you the trouble—there aren’t any. Now go inside." He stood there, watching you with a raised eyebrow as you pretended to turn the handle again.

"I will."

"Yeah? Go ahead."

"Why are you still here? Go do your stuff."

He didn’t move. "Why are you so stubborn?' he said finally. "Just admit you need help."

You shot him a challenging look. He knew you well enough to understand—you’d rather sit out here all night than ask for help. You bit the inside of your cheek. He shook his head disapprovingly, then turned and unlocked his own apartment, stepping inside.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath, still biting your cheek to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

Not even five seconds later, the door opened again. Jungkook stepped out, a screwdriver in one hand and a pair of slippers in the other. He dropped the slippers at your feet. You looked at them stubbornly for a moment before giving in and slipping them on. Without saying anything, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. Then he crouched in front of your door and started working on the lock.

Of course, your body chose that exact moment to betray you. Your stomach let out a loud hungry growl.

“Go inside,” he said without looking up. “This might take a while. There are fruits on the dining table.” The thought of finally eating something overpowered your pride, and you followed his instructions without arguing.

His interior was much different than yours, everything black and gray, a complete contrast to your pastel colours. The dog you’d seen a few times in the evenings padded up to you, eyeing you curiously, trying to decide whether you were a threat. You smiled in greeting, and that was all it took; he immediately started bouncing around, clearly approving of you.

For all his intimidating appearance, he was nothing more than a big, soft puppy. You offered him a slice of apple, which he eagerly took from your hand before nudging you insistently with his head, asking for attention. You obliged, running your fingers through his head as he leaned into you. "Stupid dog," you mumbled, but not with any bitterness.

After another fifteen minutes of playing with what might be the dumbest puppy you had ever met, you heard Jungkook call your name. You stepped out and saw him standing by your door, which was now slightly open—not fully, just enough.

Relief washed over you, and you rushed inside immediately. Albert, delighted to see you, waddled over at once.

“Holy fucking Jesus—what the hell is that?” Jungkook blurted, staring at your duck with clear disgust. Albert responded with a loud quack, returning the pleasantries.

“It’s a duck,” you said simply.

Jungkook thought, 'Of course, you have a duck. How can you exist without having an unconventional pet?'

“I can see that it’s a duck,” he replied, glancing back and forth between you and Albert. For the first time in a while, you caught something new in his expression—fear.

“Wait… are you scared of ducks?” you asked, a smirk forming. He didn’t seem to think that deserved an answer.

“Keep that thing away from me,” he said, watching Albert like he was personally responsible for some ancestral tragedy. “And don’t lock yourself out again.”

"Jungkook." Your voice came out softer—softer than he had probably ever heard from you. You bit your lips, but the words still refused to come out.

"You're welcome." He closed your door after him, leaving you alone with Albert.

*******

NOW

The campus was busy today. A new semester meant an influx of new students, the place buzzing with unfamiliar faces. Summer break was over, and everyone had returned—well, everyone who had somewhere to go for the summer, unlike you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t have the option. You just didn’t feel like facing your parents and explaining why you’d changed your major three times in four semesters. Staying back had been easier. You told them you were taking summer classes to catch up, which wasn’t entirely false—you had been studying, just not enrolled in any official courses.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who had chosen not to go home. Jungkook had stayed back, too. You didn’t know his reason, but you were certain it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart.

At least, on the bright side, the two of you were no longer constantly plotting each other’s murder. Don’t get it wrong—you still hated him. Just not the murderable amount anymore. He had grown used to your duck loudly quacking early in the mornings, and you, in turn, had adjusted to the fact that he seemed to be half-naked at every possible opportunity.

You were on your way to the football field, changed into your cheer clothes. You were surrounded by your giggling teammates, who apparently had no better topic of discussion than how hot the football boys were. It was the first cheer practice after summer, and everyone seemed eager to show off the routines they had worked on. Everyone except you. You hadn’t worked out once in the past two months, and the thought of it worried you—mostly because you were convinced your spotter, Hoseok, might actually break a hip trying to lift you.

Leshi, your cheer captain, noticed the expression on your face before practice began, and like the sweetheart she is, she took you to the side and asked if everything was alright. You, being you (slightly constipated when it comes to expressing), had brushed it off as a slow day. Assuring her that once you are out in the field, you'll cheer up.

"Okay, five, six, five six seven eight." It took you only a few rounds before you fell back into the routine again, so smoothly, like you didn't stop practicing even for a minute.

While Tina was demonstrating a few new steps she wanted to add, the girls suddenly got distracted by something across the field. Their high-pitched giggles and laughter made you turn to see what had caught their attention. Of course—it was the varsity boys walking over. Some of them were proud of the way the girls were reacting, giving a few winks and flying kisses as if they were some pop stars or something.

"Ughh." You rolled your eyes, unimpressed.

"Girls, focus," Leshi yelled, which made them go even more mental. Across the field, your eyes met with Jungkook's. You were a little relieved that, for once, he was fully dressed. His expression was blank, as if he hadn't grown up down your street and now lived across from your apartment. Not even a nod of acknowledgement. Not that it bothered you. You wouldn't expect anything less from Jeon Jungkook. He generally does avoid you in college like you're some deadly parasite.

The boys had started their warm-up, and after a few scoldings from your captain, the girls had stopped acting like bafoons as well.

"Do you guys know each other?" someone had asked you between breaks. It was Harper, the junior, who joined the team right before the last session ended.

"Who?" you replied, mid-stretch, with Hoseok helping you.

"Jungkook," she said. "He’s been staring at you this whole time." She was clearly trying not to sound jealous. You turned in the direction, and surely Jungkook was there, eyes boring at you.

"He's probably wondering why she's so stiff," Hoseok joked, earning a playful slap to his chest from you.

"Not really. He's my stupid brother's stupid friend," you said, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook. You almost laughed when his coach flicked his forehead, probably telling him to focus. Although you gave a vague answer, it was enough for Harper and a few other girls to perk up.

"Really? OMG, that's so cool."

"What's cool about knowing that idiot?"

"I mean… maybe you could talk to him about me? I've been eyeing him since freshman year." You raised your eyebrow at her confession. Something stirred inside your stomach. You were not very familiar with the ugly feeling, but you had noticed it only took place when he was involved.

"You want me to set you up with him?" You raised an eyebrow, scoffing at the stupid suggestion. "Do I look like someone who sets people up?" You didn't mean to sound so mean, but you couldn't help it. She was getting on your nerves. What part of your attitude had given her the idea that you would giggle with her in the locker room and help her plan a date?

"Oh, come on. Help a girl out." She batted her eyelashes at you as if it would sway you. You gave her a nod.

"You want me to set you up? Fine." You straightened and called out loudly, “Yo, Jungkook!” The entire field went quiet; every single person stopped practicing to look at you. Harper's eyes widen with shock and before she could stop you, you yelled out just as loud, "Harper here wants to date you, you down?"

The boys around him immediately started hooting and whistling. Harper, completely put on the spot, gave an awkward little wave. Jungkook looked at her once and then back at you; his expression didn't change; instead, he went back to what he was doing.

"There, you got your answer." She was red with embarrassment and on the verge of crying.

"Why would you do that!?"

"What? You asked me to," you replied, feigning innocence.

"Not like that." She grabbed her things and stormed off, muttering 'such a bitch' under her breath.

"You don't have to be such a bitch all the time, you know?" Another girl said. Leaving after Harper to console her. You look around your group to see if someone was on your side, but all you got were disappointed looks. Even Hoseok and your captain, the only two people you might actually consider friends, didn’t back you up.

On the other side of the field, the boys had gathered around Jungkook, clearly curious. "Dude… I didn’t know you knew her," one of them said. Jungkook just gave him a confused look.

"The flyer," someone clarified. Jungkook didn’t bother responding, clearly not finding it worth answering.

"Yeah shes his friend's little sister," Jimin added for him.

"Man, she’s hot. Spunky too."

"Yeah, I like 'em a little mean." Jungkook shot both of them a sharp look, straightening slightly.

"Don’t ask me anything about her, okay?" he said firmly. "You’re not getting her number, you’re not getting a date." Then he turned back to practice, implying that the conversation was over.

"Guy's she's off-limits," Jimin added.

"They into each other or something?" Jimin burst out laughing at that. The mere thought was ridiculous.

"No, completely the opposite. You’d need a fire truck to pull them apart when they fight," he said. Then added, a little more thoughtfully, "But he’s oddly protective of her. Probably just sees her like a little sister."

*******

Karma hit you hard like a truck. Or more accurately, in this case, like Jung Hoseok. One second you were in the air, the next you were on the ground. One of your bases slipped, throwing Hoseok off balance, and before he could catch you, you landed on your ass—your ankle twisting painfully.

"Babe, I am so sorry, I swear to god I tried to catch you." Hoseok rushed out.

The girls were gathered around you, some of them whispering exactly what you were thinking about Karma, and some just looking with genuine concern. Hosoek was apologizing profusely, carefully holding your ankle, trying to assess the damage. Leshi had sent one of the girls to get the first-aid kit, but she was sure taking her sweet time.

"I know, Soek. It’s okay," you said.

"No, it’s not. I’m so fucking sorry—" Before he could go on, someone shoved him aside. Your eyes shifted—and surprisingly, it was Jeon Jungkook. He shot Hoseok an irritated look before turning to you.

"You Okay?" He asked you.

"I'm Fine," you replied, though a small groan slipped out anyway. Jungkook’s gaze snapped back to Hoseok.

"Dude, if you can't even catch a girl, maybe you shouldn't be on the team," He said a little more harshly than necessary.

"Jungkook, I said I’m fine—" Before you could finish, he had already picked you up and started carrying you toward the bleachers. You stared at him, horrified, then glanced back at your team, who were watching the two of you with confused expressions. "Put me down," you protested, squirming, but he didn’t budge—lifting you like you weighed nothing.

Great, now they'll think you had ulterior motives with Harper. Thankfully, Leshi stepped in, telling everyone to stop staring and dismissing practice early, making sure people started leaving.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" you snapped as he set you down on the bleachers before crouching in front of you.

"What does it look like?” he replied. “Your teammates weren’t exactly in a hurry to help."

"Fuck, Jungkook," you said, glaring at him. "Now they'll think I did that to Harper because I'm into you."

He ignored what you said and lifted your bare foot onto his knee, carefully examining your ankle. Grabbing the first aid box beside you, he pulled out a healing spray.

"Are you done playing doctor?" you spat out as he started wrapping your ankle with a brown bandage.

"Would you just stop being a brat for once?" he shot back, loud enough to make you fall silent. For the next five minutes, you said nothing, letting him finish. When he was done, he gave your ankle a small pat.

Before he could bend down to pick you again, you stopped him. "I can walk. I'm not a child." To prove it, you stood up, putting your weight on your good foot, and began limping off the field.

"Fucking brat." was the last thing you heard Jungkook say before you were completely out of earshot.

*******

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful. You noticed people whispering here and there whenever you walked into a room—most likely talking about what you did to your teammate. You were getting the looks from almost everyone, the looks you were used to. People had always looked at you like you were some cold-hearted bitch who would sell her children for breadsticks. The whispers, though—that was different.

Or maybe it was just that you weren’t used to being on the receiving end of them. Back home, in school, people had the decency to talk behind your back—at least pretend to be sweet in front of you. But here, no one was even trying to hide that their topic of current gossip was you.

By the end of the day, you were pretty sure you heard someone say, “She has a huge crush on Jungkook and got jealous of that poor cheerleader.” It had you rolling your eyes, as if you would ever have a crush on Jungkook.

When you reached your building lobby, your gaze dropped to your injured leg, still tightly wrapped in the bandage Jungkook had put on. “Stupid Jungkook,” you muttered under your breath, irritation bubbling up again. Why did he have to make such a big deal out of a frickin' ankle sprain? You hated him for making you look like the crazy one.

You quietly walked out of the elevator on your floor; it was still just as deserted as the day you moved in. Only three apartments on the whole floor were occupied, yours, Mrs. Ferris (The poor old lady you scared that one morning), and fucking Jungkook.

As you walked to your door, your eyes drifted—almost involuntarily—to the plant beside it. The same pot with white flowers that sat near Jungkook’s door once. After you had locked yourself out that day, you noticed the pot had shifted the next morning. You also noticed that the soil in the pot was noticeably reduced, like someone had scooped it out to make it lighter. You had placed your spare key under the pot since that day. Jungkook never spoke about it, and you never asked either.

The plant now grows two flowers instead of one, two flowers always facing opposite directions; the irony had made you laugh.

Your duck was waiting for you just inside, and the moment you stepped in, he started quacking loudly—like he had his own complaints about the day. You let out a tired sigh. “Me too, Albert. Me too.” You picked him up, pressing a series of kisses to his tiny head, which he tolerated with mild reluctance. “Let me tell you something,” you murmured. “We hate Jungkook. Okay?” Albert responded with a simple quack.

You spent the evening venting to your duck while preparing a snack for both of you, then eating it together. Albert responded with the occasional nod here and a quack there, like he understood every word.

That was until you heard a familiar bark right outside your door—first the bark, then laughter. You set your bowl of berries down and stood up, ready to go out and tear Jungkook apart again, because, honestly, you weren’t done yet. You didn’t even know what would satisfy you. An apology? Hah, as if that was ever going to happen, there were more possibilities of earth being flat than Jungkook apologizing to you. You were about to yank open your front door, words right on the tip of your tongue, when something stopped you.

A second laughter. One that was feminine and high-pitched. Your expression darkened immediately. It wasn’t anything new. Over the past twenty-one months, you have seen Jungkook bring countless women home. Yet for some stupid reason, you hadn’t expected tonight to be one of those nights—like, somehow you had reserved Jungkook for the whole day with one mishap in the morning.

The irritation boiled inside you, even more so than before. How dare he stand there giggling with a girl after completely ruining your day?

You yanked the door open—harder than you intended—and nearly lost your own balance from the force.

All three pairs of eyes turned to you at once—the woman, the man, and the dog. The first thing you noticed was how beautiful she was. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, not a single strand out of place.

The second thing was their matching outfits—or lack thereof. Jungkook was shirtless, as usual, wearing low-hanging black gym shorts. The woman stood beside him in a black sports bra and shorts. Both of them were visibly sweaty, and it was obvious they had just come back from an evening run.

The third thing you noticed was something that gave you that ugly feeling again. A brown bandage wrapped around her wrist. The same kind that was currently around your ankle. Your mind instantly painted an image of him kneeling in front of her, carefully tending to her injury—just like he had done for you. The thought left a foul taste in your mouth. The dog was the first one to acknowledge your presence, tail wagging as he trotted over, nudging your hand for attention.

“I see your bandage skills aren’t exclusive to me. And here I thought I was special,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. Jungkook rolled his eyes before introducing you to the woman. She offered you a polite greeting, hand extended, which you blatantly ignored as you brushed past her, pushing her shoulder with yours ever so lightly. Jungkook shot you a sharp look at that.

“Jiah, why don’t you go inside?” he said. “Take Bam with you.” She nodded, taking the dog’s leash before stepping into his already open apartment. The moment she was out of earshot, Jungkook turned back to you, the hint of a smile gone. “What do you want?” he asked, looking down at you as you stood right in front of him.

“Well, where do I even begin?” you snapped. “I don’t want to see your face in college. I don’t want you pretending like you care about me in front of everyone. And I want you to stop making me look like some psycho freak.” He let out a short scoff.

“Trust me, doll,” he said coldly. “That’s all you.”

You looked at him, almost offended. “I act like a psycho? If you hadn’t shown up acting like some prince charming, everything would’ve been fine. But no—you had to go all protective. Do you have any idea what people are saying? That I’m some crazy bitch who did all that for attention.”

“Didn’t you, though?”

“Excuse me?” Now you were actually offended. “I don’t do anything for attention.”

“Oh really?” he shot back. “Then why did you do that to the poor girl?”

“Poor girl?” you scoffed. “What, you feel bad for her now?”

“I feel bad for anyone who has to deal with you, Bubbles.” You let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

“Wow,” you said, clapping once slowly. “That’s rich. Coming from you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t get to stand there and act morally superior,” you snapped. “You’ve been avoiding me like I’m some disease for weeks, and suddenly today you decide to play hero in front of everyone?”

“I wasn’t playing anything,” he shot back. “You were hurt.”

“It was an ankle sprain, Jungkook,” you corrected, your voice rising. “I would have lived.”

“And yet you couldn’t even walk properly,” he said, stepping a little closer. “God forbid someone actually helps you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.

“Yeah, you never do,” he said, a bitter edge slipping into his tone. “That’s kind of your thing, isn’t it? Push everyone away and then act surprised when no one sticks around.”

You froze for a second, the words hitting somewhere deeper than you expected. “Don’t act like you know me,” you said, quieter but colder. “You didn’t do that to help me. You did it to prove something. That you’re the ‘good one’ and I’m the villain. Congrats—you got your audience.”

“But I do,” he replied. “I’ve known you long enough to know exactly how you operate.”

"Oh yeah? How do I operate Jungkook? Please tell me?"

“You think everything is a performance,” he said. “Like everyone’s always trying to get back at you. Grow up. Not everything revolves around you.”

His words felt like a slap, just a little. You clenched your teeth so you would not let the tear slip from your eye. You stepped closer—close enough that your chests nearly brushed. You had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, but he didn’t look away.

"Fuck. You. Jungkook." You almost whispered. "Just stay out of my life. I don't want to see your face again."

You bit down on your lip, your gaze flickering briefly toward his half-open door. The woman inside was still visible—sitting quietly, her presence soft, easy. The kind of person people naturally liked. The kind who made others feel comfortable. Something you know no one can ever say about you.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you let out a sharp breath you were holding.

*******

You and Jungkook barely crossed paths after that—at least not for the next couple of weeks. He went out of his way to avoid you in the hallways, though it’s not like you were looking forward to seeing him either. You had even started taking the stairs whenever you spotted him near the elevator. The only place you couldn’t avoid each other was practice. Your cheer team was assigned to the varsity football team, so you still saw him almost every day.

Jimin was the first to notice—and, unsurprisingly, the first to bring it up.

“What’s going on between you and the diva?” he asked, tying his laces before jogging alongside Jungkook.

Jungkook vividly remembers the night Jimin gave you that nickname. The two of them had been drunk at a club, and he had spent nearly an hour ranting about you—about how insufferable you were. Even though there was a girl practically grinding on him, all he could think about was how much you infuriate him.

“Nothing’s going on,” Jungkook replied flatly.

Jimin snorted. “She’s looking at you like she’s about this close to chopping your dick off,” he said, holding up his fingers to show just how close. Jungkook glanced over to where he knew you were stretching with your teammates, and the moment your eyes met, you quickly looked away.

“She’s all bark,” Jungkook said casually. Jimin followed his gaze and noticed the slight frown on your face, your lips pulled into a small pout. He almost commented how you were too cute—but one glance at Jungkook beside him was enough to make him keep that thought to himself.

“You know,” Jimin said casually, “if she wasn’t so headstrong and you weren’t… well, you—you two would actually make a pretty cute couple.”

Jungkook nearly choked, coughing as he shot Jimin a look of pure disgust.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, stopping mid-track.

“What?” Jimin shrugged. “It’s just a thought. You’re hot, she’s hot.”

“Yeah, well,” Jungkook muttered, glaring at him, “keep it to yourself.”

Jimin didn’t bring it up again, but the idea lingered in Jungkook’s mind. It refused to leave. Honestly, he had never seen you that way before—never even considered it as a possibility. To him, you had always just been you—annoying, sharp-tongued, headstrong, impossible. But now that Jimin had said it out loud, the thought kept resurfacing uninvited. It was irritating.

Every time he looked in your direction, he became more aware of you—of the way you carried yourself, of how easily you slipped back into routines like nothing could shake you, of the constant expression on your face that somehow managed to be both bored and intimidating at the same time.

“You two would actually make a pretty cute couple.” Jimin’s words replayed in Jungkook’s head all day. They followed him everywhere—when he absentmindedly passed the ball during practice, when he stood under the shower afterward, when he sat in his class trying to focus on what Mr. Kim was saying, when he drove back home, even when he was at the gym. No matter what he was doing, the thought kept creeping back in, refusing to let him concentrate on anything else.

When Jungkook stepped out of the elevator onto his floor after his evening run with Bam, something made him pause. You were standing in the corridor, your back to him, hands planted on your hips as you stared down at something. You were wearing such a tiny pair of shorts and a very small t-shirt that, for a brief second, he almost felt like he was invading your privacy.

Bam immediately perked up at the sight of you, ready to run over—but then he suddenly slowed, attention shifting to something near your feet. Jungkook took a few more steps forward and followed your line of sight.

"Albert. Bad duck. Put him down." There he was, the dreadful duck.

Jungkook had never liked that creature—arguably more than he disliked you. First of all, it was a duck. A duck. An animal he knew had the potential to take over the world if given the chance. They weren’t afraid of anything, and he was convinced that thing gave him a smug, almost sinister look every time he saw it.

And then there was the other problem. The duck terrorized his dog. His big, intimidating dog—who looked like he could take down anything—was, for some reason, absolutely terrified of it.

“Albert. Put. Down. The. Lizard.” Jungkook had no idea where—or how—the duck had managed to get a lizard in its beak, and he had no intention of finding out. All he knew was that he nearly gagged when Albert finally dropped it, and you picked it up without hesitation, holding it close to your face to check if it was hurt.

“You two would actually make a pretty cute couple.” Jimin’s voice echoed in his head again. Her? Jungkook thought. Me and her? He let out a loud, disbelieving laugh at the absurdity of it. The sound made you turn. The softness on your face vanished the moment you saw him.

“Can you please get your… weird little pets inside so Bam can go in?” he said, eyeing Albert, who had now waddled right in front of his door. Bam stayed crouched behind Jungkook, clearly unwilling to move. Truthfully, Bam wasn’t the only one hesitating—Jungkook wasn’t exactly eager to walk past the devil either.

“Albert is not weird,” you snapped. “Your dog is the weird one. What kind of dog is scared of a duck?”

Jungkook scoffed. “A normal one. One that has survival instincts.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes. “He’s being dramatic.”

“He’s dramatic?” Jungkook repeated, incredulous. “Your duck just kidnapped a lizard.”

You glanced down at Albert, who was now proudly standing between the two doors like he owned the corridor. “He was rescuing it,” you corrected.

“From what? Peace?”

You ignored that, nudging Albert lightly with your foot. “Move.” Albert didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head—then took one slow step closer to Jungkook’s door. Bam let out a small, distressed whine and pressed further behind Jungkook’s legs. You exhaled sharply. “Oh, my God.”

Jungkook didn’t move either. “Yeah. Exactly.”

The two of you stood there for a moment—completely stuck. You crossed your arms. “You can go around.”

“There is no ‘around,’” he said flatly. “It’s a hallway.”

“Then jump over him.”

Jungkook gave you a look. “I’m not jumping over your demon bird.”

“Duck.”

“Same thing.”

You sighed, crouching down to pick Albert up. He resisted for a second before finally letting you lift him, his webbed feet kicking slightly in protest. “See? Not that hard.”

“Yeah, because he likes you,” Jungkook muttered, still not moving.

You raised a brow. “Are you scared?”

“I’m being cautious.”

“Of a duck.”

“Of that duck,” he corrected.

You let out a quiet huff, stepping aside just enough. “Go.” Jungkook hesitated for half a second—then walked past quickly, like he didn’t trust you or Albert. Bam followed immediately, practically glued to his side. You almost smiled. Almost. As Jungkook reached his door, he paused, hand on the handle. He glanced back, his eyes briefly dropping to your feet.

“I see you started practice again,” he said. “Is your ankle even healed?”

You followed his gaze, then looked back up at him, unimpressed. “Jungkook, you’re not actually my doctor,” you replied. “You don’t have to keep pretending like you care.” Something in his expression shifted, almost to annoyance.

“I’m not—” he started, then stopped, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand through his hair. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Just… don’t push it too much at practice,” he said, not quite looking at you. “You’ll make it worse.”

“It was a sprain, Jungkook. People have healed from bullet wounds in two weeks.” Jungkook didn’t respond. It almost looked like he might—his jaw tightening, something unreadable flashing across his face—but then he just shook his head, like he’d already decided it wasn’t worth it. The door slammed shut. The sound echoed a little too loudly in the quiet hallway. You stood there for sometime, staring at the closed door, your grip on Albert tightening just slightly.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath. On the other side, Jungkook leaned back against the door the second it shut, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second. He cannot believe how much he lets you get on his nerves.

Bam looked up at him, tilting his head. Jungkook let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his already messy hair before pushing himself off the door. “I’m gonna cook that duck one day,” he muttered, glaring at the closed door.

Bam gave a small, uncertain bark. Jungkook scoffed. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re scared of it too.”

*******

The lights were low enough to blur the edges of everything, forcing you to squint just to make out faces in the crowd. Music thumped through the walls, bass-heavy and constant, vibrating faintly under your feet. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy parties—you did. You knew how to move through a room, how to fall into conversations, how to make people notice you without asking for it. But tonight, you just weren’t in the mood. Still, your teammates had dragged you to this frat party anyway. One last party before midterms, they had said—though everyone knew there was no such thing as a last party.

The moment you walked in, it was like the Harper situation had never happened. Smiles greeted you from every direction, people pulling you into quick hugs like you were some long-lost friend. You didn’t recognize half of them—faces blurred together, names long forgotten—but you played along, slipping back into it like it was second nature.

One of the girls slipped a drink into your hand, and you took a casual sip. You frowned slightly—whoever made it knew exactly how you liked it. You didn’t question it. By the time you were two drinks in, the edge had softened. The noise didn’t feel as overwhelming, the lights less irritating. You finally started to fall into the rhythm of the place, letting yourself blend into the crowd.

You glanced around for your teammates, but they were nowhere to be seen. Figures. With a small exhale, you let yourself sway along with the music, moving mindlessly with the bodies around you.

Your eyes kept scanning the crowd, though you weren’t even sure what—or who—you were looking for. There was a small part of your mind, barely there, wondering if he might show up tonight. You hadn’t seen him all evening, so you told yourself it was just curiosity. Nothing more.

Your gaze stilled the moment it landed on something familiar—the glint of a lip piercing. He was already looking at you. He’d known exactly where you were the entire time. Jungkook sat sprawled on a couch in the corner, a beer in hand, completely at ease. A half-drunk girl was perched on his lap, leaning into him like she belonged there. And still—his eyes were on you. boring into your soul as if he could read your thoughts.

The view had done something to your stomach. The urge to walk straight up to him and dump your drink over both of them felt very real. Not trusting your intrusive thoughts to not do exactly that, you chugged down the rest of it.

The feeling was just settling in your guts when two hands found your waist. You turned sharply, ready to snap at whoever it was—but your expression softened the moment you recognized him. "Hosoek." You pulled him into a quick hug, relief slipping through you at the sight of someone familiar.

“Hey, babe.” He leaned back, looking down at you before letting out a low whistle. “Damn. You look hot.” Parties were Hoseok’s element. The second he stepped into one, he owned it—the most confident guy in the room, like he could conquer the world with two hip thrusts.

“Says you,” you shot back, smirking as you gave him a once-over in return.

A conversation smoothed between the two of you, and for a while, the boy with the lip piercing and tattoo sleeve slipped completely out of your mind. That was until you turned—And your eyes met his again. Same spot. Same couch. Same girl draped over him, leaning in close, whispering something into his ear. Your chest tightened, heart racing.

Without thinking twice, your hand moved to the hands resting on your waist, pulling Hoseok closer. Your bodies pressed together, grinding with the music in a way that two friends were definitely not supposed to. You somewhat felt bad for Hoseok, for giving him false hope, for using him for... You don't even know what you were doing. There was this desire to one-up Jungkook, like it was some weird competition of who could be more vulgar publicly.

Even in the dim light, you caught the shift. Jungkook’s hand slid to the girl’s waist, pulling her in closer. His eyes never left yours. Not for a second. His other hand moved up, fingers tangling into her hair as he tilted her head back just slightly. It felt intentional. Like a response. Your own hand moved in instinct, sliding up to the back of Hoseok’s neck, pulling him down. Your ass pressed against him, and you felt his hand snake under your tiny skirt, grazing the soft skin of your thigh. You knew you were going too far, to the point of no return.

Then you stopped, watching how he closed the rest of the distance and pulled her down for a kiss. A kiss so intense you could feel it from across the room. Eyes finally leave you and shift his complete focus to the girl on his lap.

You wanted to scream, definitely not because you felt something shatter inside you, but because you lost. Whatever silent standoff had been going on between you, he ended it first. The sight made you a little sick.

You dragged a hand through your hair, stepping away from Hoseok abruptly. He looked at you, confusion and guilt replacing whatever haze he’d been in. “I’m gonna go outside,” you said, forcing a small smile.

“Wait—hey, I’m sorry. Did I—did I go too far? I didn’t mean to—” he started quickly. You cut him off with a shake of your head.

“No, Hobi. You’re fine.” You leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, reassuring him, before slipping away through the crowd.

The shift hit you immediately. Outside, the air was cooler, cleaner. The music dulled into a distant thump, still pulsing faintly under your skin but no longer suffocating. A few students lingered around—some laughing, some waiting for rides, one bent over the lawn, throwing up. You wrinkled your nose in disgust, looking away.

Your eyes landed on a guy leaning against the wall, cigarette between his fingers. Even from a distance, you could tell it wasn’t just a regular one—the smell gave it away.

“Can I have one?” you asked—more of a demand than a question.

“Depends,” he said, smirking, his eyes dragging slowly over your figure. “What do I get in return?” You scoffed at the audacity. He didn’t look older than a freshman.

“In return, I won’t call the cops for underage smoking…” You said coolly, leaning in just enough to catch the scent, "and drinking.”

His smirk faltered, eyes sharpening slightly. “…Good enough.” He reached into his jacket, pulling out a crumpled pack and handing you one of the poorly rolled cigarettes. You placed it between your lips, and he leaned in to light it, the tiny purple flame flickering between you.

You glanced at the lighter in his hand. “Can I have that too?” It was pretty, and you wanted it.

He hesitated for a second. “It’s mine…” A pause. Then he shrugged, holding it out. “But yeah. You can have it.”

The first drag pulled a cough out of you immediately. You weren’t a smoker—never had been—but there was something oddly familiar about the smell, something that settled your nerves just a little. After a few smaller drags, your lungs adjusted. You leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly, your mind replaying everything that had happened inside. It felt… stupid. The whole thing.

With every sound of the door opening behind you, your eyes flicked over instinctively. Perhaps some part of you was waiting. Hoping. That once Jungkook noticed you were gone, he’d come after you. You didn’t even know what you’d say if he did. Or what you wanted him to say. You just knew that whatever had happened in there—That wasn’t normal. That is not how people who supposedly hate each other behave.

A sudden commotion caught your attention. Glancing to your left, you saw two guys hovering over a girl. At first, you assumed they were friends, but then you saw her face clearly—it was Harpar. She was so drunk she could barely stand. Your eyes flicked to the two unfamiliar guys; you didn’t know if they were actually her friends, but you weren’t about to take the risk.

You straightened up and noticed a small rock by your feet, about the size of your fist. Without hesitation, you picked it up in your cigarette-free hand and approached the three of them. “Harpar?” you called, but she was too out of it to respond. The guys turned toward you. “Do you even know her?” you asked, keeping your tone sharp.

“Yeah… she’s our friend,” one of them replied, but you didn’t buy it.

“Where are you taking her?”

“Just driving her home,” the other said casually.

“I’ll drop her. She lives near me,” you don't really know where she lives.

One of them laughed, stepping closer. “Mind your own fucking business, alright? Unless you wanna come along?” You nearly gagged at his words, disgust flooding you. Your grip tightened around the rock that was hidden behind your back. The rough edges poking at your soft palm.

"I said. Let. Her. Go."

“Or what?” one of them sneered, stepping into your space. His index finger jabbed at your forehead. Before he could strike again, you gripped your cigarette tight and shoved it into his neck. He screamed, the burning sting making him stumble back.

“Bitch!” The second one lunged at you, but you didn't get the chance to swing the rock and bash his head, a flash of movement sent him crashing to the ground. A single punch left him gasping for air. Your fingers tightened around the rock, but you didn’t let it drop. You looked up. Jungkook was standing there, chest heaving, eyes dark with anger as he loomed over the first guy. It didn’t take long—both boys scrambled to their feet and ran, leaving a tense silence in their wake.

“I had it under control,” You said, voice low, his gaze flicking to your hand, still hidden behind your back. You took a step toward Harpar, who swayed drunkenly, ready to help her, but Jungkook’s hand shot out and gripped your forearm.

“Drop it,” he commanded. You hesitated for a second. “Drop it,” he repeated, softer this time, almost calm. With a dull thud, the rock slipped from your fingers and hit the ground. You stood there silently as Jungkook helped Harper to a bench near the fence. She swayed slightly, leaning against him, still too drunk to stand on her own. You watched him pull out his phone and dial someone.

“Hey… you live with Harper, right?” His voice was calm, clipped. “Can you take her home with you? Yeah… yeah… okay.” He hung up. You didn’t want to know how he knew where Harper lived or who she lived with—you’d had enough of that for today.

“I had it under control,” you muttered again, crossing your arms.

“How?” Jungkook asked, voice low but sharp, “By cracking his skull open? You know you could actually go to jail for that, right?”

“So?” you shot back. “I was defending myself, and that bastard had it coming.”

“He did,” Jungkook admitted, his eyes darkening. “But that doesn’t mean you throw rocks at people. You’re not a child anymore.” He stepped closer to you—closer than that guy ever got before you drove the cigarette into his neck.

“Why do you even care?” you spat, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. “Why do you even care? Why. Do you. Care. If I go to jail, or if I sprain my ankle, or if I—fuck—lock myself out of my apartment? Why do you fucking care?” Your hands were balled into fists at your sides, and for the first time tonight, you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes. Not because you were sad, but because you were angry.

Jungkook froze, his own fists clenching at his sides. The smoldering anger that usually radiated off him softened into something raw, something unguarded.

“Because…” He stopped, swallowing hard, like he was trying to find the words. He took a small step back, avoiding your gaze. “I… I don’t know, okay? I don’t fucking know.”

You and Jungkook stood in awkward silence for a few minutes until someone finally arrived—a blonde girl you immediately recognized as one of the quarterback’s girlfriends. You didn’t know her name, but a small sense of relief washed over you. So it wasn’t Jungkook sleeping with Harper's roommate, it was his friend. Not that it mattered; he could fuck whoever he wanted.

The blonde gave you a polite smile, which you returned. She said something to Jungkook that barely registered in your mind before pointing toward a black Uber waiting near the gate. Jungkook helped Harper into the car with ease, and you followed behind, keeping a careful distance. Just as you reached the car, Jungkook’s hand shot out and lightly grabbed your wrist, stopping you from getting in the car.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I can share a ride with them,” you said, nodding toward the two girls in the Uber.

“We literally live in the same building. I can drive you,” Jungkook insisted, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to do that,” you replied quickly, trying to pull your hand free.

“Could you stop being so stubborn for one second?” he snapped.

“Can you stop being such a jerk for one second?” you shot back. The blonde, sensing the tension between you two, stepped in to diffuse the situation. She spoke your name softly, halting any further argument.

“We really live on the other side, and it’s getting late. It’ll be a hassle—for you, and for us.” You glanced between her and Jungkook, then gave a small nod. “Thank you, though. Take care.” The car drove off, leaving you with the asshole.

You looked at Jungkook, your gaze softening for just a moment—just long enough for your emotions to slip through. But then the image hit you again—his hands on that girl, his lips on hers—and your expression hardened instantly, like a door slamming shut.

Just as he tried to open his mouth, you turned on your heel and started walking. He called your name once. Then again. But you didn’t stop. A second later, you could hear his footsteps behind you. The distance between you didn’t stay for long.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” You kept moving, your pace quick, like you were determined to reach home on foot; if you slowed down even a little, your thoughts would catch up to you. The night air felt cooler now, brushing against your skin, but it did nothing to settle the storm building inside your chest.

“It’s really late,” he said, but you ignored him, your steps never faltering. Then his hand closed around your wrist. Not harsh. Not forceful. Just enough to stop you. You could’ve pulled away—you knew you could—but you didn’t.

You turned, ready to snap at him, the words already forming on your tongue—but they died the second you saw his face. He looked tired. Not the usual irritated Jungkook you were used to. Just… tired. His eyes were softer, quieter, almost like the boy you remembered from years ago—the one who stood awkwardly on that playground, unsure of what to do with himself, but still chose to stay close to you.

“Please.” The word was quiet. It didn’t match him. And somehow, that made it worse. You swallowed, the fight draining out of you. “Please,” he said again, softer this time. Your shoulders dropped before you even realized it. The tension in your body loosened. You didn’t argue this time. You just let him guide you, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist as he led you toward his car.

The interior of his car reflected him perfectly—black leather seats, spotless, not a trace of dust anywhere. The faint mix of his cologne and cigarette smoke lingered in the air, oddly calming you faster than you would admit. You noticed him switch on the seat warmer, but chose not to say anything.

“I can do it,” you said as he leaned in to fasten your seatbelt.

“I know,” he replied, but didn’t stop. He reached across you anyway, pulling the belt over your shoulder and clicking it into place. His breath brushed against your face for a brief second, close enough to make your thoughts stumble. Then he gave the strap a small tug—once, then again—like you were some child in a car seat.

The drive stayed quiet for a while—not tense, just heavy, both of you were too drained to keep fighting. The soft hum of the engine and the warmth from the seat settled around you, easing the edge off your nerves. Then he broke the silence.

“I thought Hoseok was gay.”

You turned your head slightly, brows knitting together. “Just because he’s on the cheer team, he’s gay? That's your logic?”

“Hey, I didn’t say he was. That’s just what people think.”

“Well, he’s not.”

“Clearly.” He let out a quiet huff, something unreadable in his tone. You noticed the way his grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles paling slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said after a beat. “Just… didn’t know you two were that close.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Friend?” Jungkook scoffed, glancing at you briefly before looking back at the road. “Do you dance like that with all your friends? But hey, I’m not judging. You can fuck whoever you want.”

“I’m not fucking Hoseok,” you snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You paused, then added, a little sharper, “And even if I was, what’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. His jaw tightened as he focused on the road ahead. “Like I said, you can fuck whoever you want. Why would I care?”

You let out a small, humorless laugh, turning your head toward the window. “Such a hypocrite.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, leather creaking softly under the pressure. His jaw flexed, like he was forcing himself to stay quiet, to not let whatever was building spill over.

“Can we just drive home in silence?” you cut in before he could speak, your voice tired, lacking its usual sharpness. “I can’t wait for you to go back to ignoring me.” For a moment, he said nothing. The car filled with the low hum of the engine, the distant rush of passing cars, and something heavier sitting between the two of you.

“Gladly,” he replied.

Neither of you said a word—not when he parked the car, not as you walked into the lobby, not even in the elevator. The silence followed you all the way to your floor, heavy and unbroken. No goodnight, no goodbye, nothing. You reached your door, fingers moving mechanically as you unlocked it, but you paused, glancing back over your shoulder. He was still there, standing a few steps away, like he hadn’t quite decided what to do next. Like something was sitting on the tip of his tongue—something he wanted to say, or maybe something he was waiting for you to say.

But neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The lock clicked, louder than it should have, and you pushed the door open. And then, all he heard was the sharp slam of it closing. You were gone.

*******

You were running late—so late that every second felt like it was slipping through your fingers. You were already rehearsing excuses in your head, imagining Leshi tearing into you the second you showed up.

You grabbed your bag, shoved your feet into your shoes without properly slipping them on, and rushed out, still fixing your hair. And then you nearly walked straight into someone. You stopped short. It took you a second to recognize her—but she recognized you instantly, saying your name like no time had passed at all.

“Mrs. Jeon?”

For a moment, you just stared, caught off guard. You hadn’t seen her in years. Not since she left.

“Oh dear,” she smiled warmly. “How are you? It’s been so long. You look gorgeous.” You gave her a polite smile, a little stiff around the edges. “Wait,” she glanced around, then back at you. “You live near Kookie?” You cringed internally on Jungkook's behalf at the nickname.

“Yeah, I…” you trailed off, the words not quite coming together. Up close, she looked exactly the same. Time had skipped over her entirely; she hadn't aged a day in the past ten years.

“Do you know which one is Jungkook’s apartment?” she asked. “I know the floor, but I’m a little lost.” You nodded and pointed to the door directly across from yours.

“Oh, thank you so much, darling… I’ll see you around.” The words didn’t sit right. 'See you around?' Something in your chest tightened, a quiet defensiveness creeping in before you could stop it. After everything—after the way she left—you didn’t like how easily she said that. Like she could just… come back. Like she hasn't done enough already.

She was already moving past you toward his door. You wanted to stay, wanted to send her on her way, make up a lie that he's not home, but why do you care?

You should’ve left it alone. You knew that. It wasn’t your place. But before you could stop yourself, “He’s not home.” The words slipped out. But you knew he was; his practice started right around yours, so if he left, you would have known.

She paused, turning back to you. “Oh? Are you sure?”

“Certain,” you said, nodding, trying to sound convincing. “I think I saw him leave about ten minutes ago. Maybe try calling him?”

“I have,” she said quietly. “He’s not picking up. Not responding to my texts or voicemails either.” She said, looking a bit sad. You felt a sudden pang of anger rising, a feeling of protectiveness. You wanted to ask her where that concern had been all those years ago. Wanted to ask why she cared now. But you bit it back. Hard. Not your place, you reminded yourself again.

“I’ll just… come back, I guess,” she murmured. Please don’t, your mind whispered. But just as she turned, the door swung open. Jungkook stood there, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair a mess like always. He froze the second he saw her. And then his eyes flicked to you, searching for some explanation. Like you would know what his mother was doing here.

Mrs Jeon gave you a questioning look. "I guess I was wrong." You simply said. You forced a small smile, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze now.

And then you turned, walking down the hallway toward the elevator. You should’ve just left. You almost did. But as the elevator doors slid open, your steps slowed. Your eyes drifted back on their own. You couldn’t hear everything—just low voices, clipped, tense—but you didn’t need to. The look on Jungkook’s face was enough.

Something twisted in your chest again, heavier this time. Your feet didn’t move. Something inside you urged you to stay, to make sure he was okay before you left. You couldn't bring yourself to leave him, no matter how hard you tried. His eyes met yours across the hallway, and you wanted to shield him, protect him from the heartless woman who hurt him so much.

Your fist clenched tightly at your side as you stepped into the elevator, your eyes meeting Jungkook’s one last time before the doors slid shut. You let out a quiet sigh, a strange, twisted feeling settling in your stomach. He’ll be fine. And even if he’s not… you’re probably the last person he’d want around right now. You’d just stress him out more.

You convinced yourself the whole way to college that Jungkook is a grown man who doesn't need you to save him from his mother. Still, when practice started, your eyes kept drifting toward the boys’ side of the field. Everyone was there. Everyone except Jungkook. Your brows pulled together slightly. That wasn’t like him. He didn’t skip practice. He didn’t slack. If anything, he took it more seriously than anyone else.

You tried to focus. You really did. On the routine, on Leshi’s voice, on the rhythm your body knew so well. It didn’t last.

“Hey, Jimin,” you called during a break, making your way across the field. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, like he couldn't believe you were talking to him. “Is Jungkook not here yet?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No.”

You hesitated. “Have you talked to him? Is he gonna be late or…?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin said, shaking his head. “He texted me before practice to start without him, but he’s not picking up now.”

That didn’t sit right. You nodded anyway, it didn’t matter, and turned back toward your team. But your mind refused to stay put. It kept circling back. What did she want from him? Was something wrong? His dad? His brother? Or was she just… back? The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. And no matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t your problem, your eyes kept drifting back to the empty space where Jungkook should’ve been.

You didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day. Not that you usually did. It wasn’t like the two of you texted or checked in on each other—but he was… around. Always. You’d catch glimpses of him between classes, leaning against a wall with his friends, laughing too loudly, or sitting in the south wing cafeteria. He was hard to miss. But today—nothing. Not in the corridors, not outside lecture halls, not even a passing glimpse from across the quad. It was like he had just… disappeared.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Why would it? It’s not like you were looking for him. However, your eyes kept drifting anyway. Every time you stepped out of a class, every time you turned a corner, there was this small, automatic pause. And every time, there was just no one. Maybe he’s just skipping classes. The thought came quickly, easy, almost defensive—but even you didn’t believe it. Jungkook didn’t skip. Not practice, not lectures, not anything that mattered to him.

You caught yourself scanning the cafeteria during lunch, eyes flicking over familiar faces. Nothing. You looked away quickly, annoyed at yourself. What are you even doing? It’s not like you cared where he was. And even if you did—so what? It’s not like he’d tell you.

Your fingers tapped absently against the table, irritation creeping in for no real reason. He probably doesn’t even want to be seen right now. The image of the morning flashed in your head: his face when he saw her, the way everything in him had shut down. Your jaw tightened. Good. Let him deal with it. It had nothing to do with you. It shouldn’t have anything to do with you.

The rest of the day dragged, slow and uneventful, and still no Jungkook. You almost asked Jimin again when you passed him after your last class, the question already forming, but you swallowed it down at the last second. You weren’t going to look obsessed. You weren’t going to be that person.

Finally, the day was over—practice done, classes done. You could go home. Go home and pretend you didn’t care about him in peace. You usually walked back from campus, turning down every offer your friends made to drop you off. You liked the quiet, the space to think—or not think at all. But today, you didn’t feel like walking. You didn’t feel like being alone with your own head either.

So when Hoseok pulled up beside you, rolling the window down with that easy grin of his, you didn’t hesitate.

“Need a ride?”

You nodded almost immediately, skipping over to the passenger side and slipping in. Hoseok didn’t question it—just started talking as soon as you settled in, something about practice, about someone messing up a routine, about plans for the weekend. His voice filled the car, light and familiar. But none of it really registered. You nodded when it felt right, hummed in response when there was a pause, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, running in circles. And no matter how much you tried to focus on anything else, on Hoseok’s voice, on the road ahead, on literally anything. It kept drifting back to the same person.

“See you tomorrow?” You nodded at Hoseok’s question, already half out the door before he even finished speaking, and made your way up to your floor a little quicker than usual.

The first thing you did when you reached your floor wasn’t to unlock your own door, but to stop outside his, stand there, and listen for any sign of life inside. A shuffle, footsteps, the TV, anything. There was nothing. Pin-drop silence. Not even Bam. No barking, no claws against the floor, no curious sniffing at the door. Which meant he was sleeping, and that only happened when Jungkook was either out or asleep. You highly doubted he was sleeping at four in the afternoon.

You shifted your weight, pressing your lips together before turning around to go back to your own place. Your eyes landed on the pot beside your door. You fidgeted with your hands for a moment, debating whether you should cross that line or not. But what if he was sick? What if something actually happened after Mrs. Jeon left?

Before you could think too much about it, before you could talk yourself out of it, you crouched down, lifting the pot just enough to reach underneath. Your fingers brushed against the spare key. His spare key. You hesitated for half a second, then you grabbed it.

“Wow,” you muttered under your breath, staring at it. “Breaking and entering now? New low.” You paused, then added quietly, “Well… technically just entering.” You slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

You stepped in slowly, glancing around. You’d only ever really seen his living room over the past two years, maybe a glimpse of his balcony from yours, but this felt… different. Being inside like this.

“Jungkook?” No response. You checked the living room. Empty. His bedroom. Empty. The spare room. Also empty. No sign of him anywhere. The only indication that someone actually lived here was Bam, curled up on his bed in the corner, completely undisturbed. Not even a twitch when you walked in.

You stared at him for a second, unimpressed. “What kind of dog are you?” you muttered. “Someone could rob this place blind, and you’d just nap through it.”

The kitchen was clean. The only thing out of place was two empty cups sitting on the dining table. You paused for a second, glancing at them, then shook it off. Giving the sleeping dog one last look, you stepped out of the apartment, locked the door behind you, and slipped the key back under the pot like nothing had ever happened.

Back in your own place, Albert noticed you instantly, waddling over like he had been waiting. Two loud quacks. You looked down at his empty feeding tray. “Oh, baby,” you muttered, crouching slightly. “Were you hungry?”

After feeding him, you settled onto your sofa, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly. Your thumb moved, your eyes followed, but not really. Every few seconds, they drifted to the door. Listening for any indication that he has arrived. Nothing came.

You scoffed quietly, throwing your phone aside for a second and leaning back. “Whatever,” you muttered, louder this time, glaring at your front door as if he were actually standing on the other side. “I don’t give a fuck. In fact, you don’t have to come back at all for all I care.” Your voice echoed a little in the quiet apartment. Albert looked up at you, tilting his head to the side like he was judging you.

After a few more hours of nothing but silence, you did something you never thought you would do in a hundred years. You called Jungkook. Twice. And the audacity of him to not pick up either time.

By the second call, when it rang out and went straight to voicemail, your frown deepened, irritation bubbling up fast. “Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, throwing your phone onto the couch beside you. “Asshole.” You got up almost immediately after, running a hand through your hair. You couldn’t just sit here all night waiting for him like some… whatever this was. You had better things to do.

After cleaning up your apartment a little and half-watching a few episodes of Schitt’s Creek, your attention drifted back to your phone again. Four new messages. Your eyes lit up, and you picked it up instantly. For a split second, something like hope flickered in your chest. And just as quickly, it died.

Leshi: the girls and i are going to dinner, please join, it will be so much fun.

Hoseok: are you alright? you seemed a little worried.

Hoseok: please let me know if you need anything at all.

Unknown: Hey, I got your number from—

You didn’t even bother reading the last one. 'Where the hell are you, Jungkook? I swear, once I know you're alive, you'll be dead.' you thought.

11:21. The clock read, you stifled the yawn that almost escaped you and got up, ready to look for something to consume as dinner.

Then you heard it, a quiet shuffling of feet, then the clicking sound of the door getting unlocked, and then Bam Barking. Relief rushed through you, and you didn't waste a single second before storming out of your apartment and across the hallway.

His door was about to shut when you grabbed the handle and pushed it open again. Jungkook turned around immediately, still wearing the same clothes he was this morning. His bag was thrown carelessly on the floor. He didn't have much time to process what was happening; you were already yelling.

“Where the hell have you been!?” You snapped angrily. “You don’t pick up any calls, you don’t text, you don’t come to practice. You just fucking vanished for the whole day. At least let someone know you’re not dead in a ditch or—”

It happened too fast. One second, you were standing a few feet away from him, anger carrying you forward, and the next, his hands were on you. He pulled you in before you could react, wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you against him in a tight, desperate hug. The words died in your throat. Your body went still, hands hanging uselessly at your sides.

His face buried itself in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. Not rushed, just heavy, like he was trying to steady himself. And you forgot how to breathe. The anger that had been boiling under your skin faltered. Because this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to snap back. Argue. Say something that would piss you off even more. Not this. Not… holding you like that.

Your heart started beating a little too fast, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it. Your fingers twitched at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or hold on. You could feel the tension in him. The way his grip tightened just slightly, like he didn’t want to let go.

Your breathing stuttered, uneven, your body didn’t quite know what to do with itself anymore. There was this strange, unfamiliar feeling curling low in your stomach, something you’d only ever seen described in books, in movies. Never something you thought you’d actually feel.

You were yet to make any sense of it when he moved two steps back, still holding onto you like letting go wasn’t even an option, and then he dropped into the chair behind him, pulling you down with him. You barely had time to react before you were seated on his lap, your breath catching again at the closeness.

“Jungkook…” Your voice came out quieter than you intended, your hands instinctively coming up to push at his shoulders, but he caught them. Pulled them down and held you tighter. Your chest pressed against his; you could feel your heartbeats almost combining.

“Stay like this. Please.” His voice was muffled against your neck, rough. “Go ahead,” he added quietly. “Yell at me. You can keep yelling at me… but just...just stay like this.” His hands were feeling every inch of your waist like he was making sure that you were real; he needed that to ground himself.

Your throat felt impossibly dry, the anger that had consumed you just minutes ago dissolving so completely it was hard to believe it had ever been there at all. In its place, something far more fragile and unfamiliar settled in, a quiet, surreal tenderness that wrapped around your chest. Your hands lifted again, but this time there was no intention to push him away. Instead, you allowed your arms to circle around him. The moment your arms settled around his neck, you felt the subtle shift in him. A sigh escaped his lips, brushing softly against your skin, heavy with relief. Your hold was soft, of someone who was still learning how to hug. Your hands are moving to the back of his head, soothing.

If someone had told you yesterday that you would be sitting in Jungkook's lap, in the quiet of his living room, with his arms wrapped around you as though you were his shelter, you would have personally escorted them to the nearest mental asylum.

You had never thought of yourself as a comforter, the kind of person people sought out after a long day, someone who offered warmth and reassurance; you doubted anyone had ever looked at you that way. But in that moment, when Jungkook took refuge in your arms, you realized that you could so easily become that person, if only you wanted it enough.

Your fingers continued to move absentmindedly through his hair, the soft strands slipping between them as his breathing gradually evened out against you. You wanted to ask him how he was, whether everything was alright, but the words lingered unspoken at the back of your throat. You were afraid that even the smallest sound might shatter this stillness, breaking whatever trance had settled between you. This comforting silence will once again turn chaotic, and you will start screaming at each other. You weren’t ready for that. Not yet.

You didn’t want to let go, though you would never admit it, certainly not out loud, and perhaps not even to yourself. There was something disarming about the way he leaned into you, about how naturally your body had responded to his need for comfort. It felt like stepping into a parallel universe. So you stayed there, holding him just a little longer, allowing yourself a few stolen minutes in this quiet moment before reality inevitably found its way back.

You don't know how long you stayed like that, maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour. Time was honestly lost on you. Countless seconds ticking by as you inhaled each other's scent. The smell of tobacco lingered in his breath, telling you he had smoked right before he came in, the smell that you have always associated with him, alchemised with his wooden cologne.

Jungkook was the first to pull away, though only slightly, just enough to look at your face. The loss of contact felt jarring, like a song coming abruptly to an end. His hand rose slowly, fingers gentle as they brushed a loose strand of hair away from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. Faces still just inches apart, you could see every tiny detail, the soft curves of his lashes, every freckle, and every tiny mole. Your eyes drift from the one on his nose to the one right below his lips.

His eyes followed yours, mimicking your movement, taking in your features like he was admiring a painting. Lingering a moment too long on the soft pink plump of your lips. You wondered how he would taste; would you still be able to taste the cigarette on his lips? Would he taste like the vanilla Chapstick you have seen him use one too many times?

Your head tilted to the side, inviting him, lulling him just to close the gap. To relieve you both from the thick tension hovering in the air. His eyes looked as if he were wondering the same thing as you, eyebrows furrowing just slightly.

A loud bark had pulled you both from the hypnotic state you had been suspended in. The moment shattered like glass, reality seeping in. You stood up from his lap immediately. Your hands brushed over your pajama shorts, smoothing out imaginary creases and dust. Both of you turned to look at the culprit of the interruption. Bam. Standing there wagging his tail, looking at you, daring you to cross the line. Jungkook cleared his throat. Loud. Announcing that the moment was over.

"I.." he began, gaze darting anywhere but you. "I'm sorry. I just." His voice trailed off before finally settling on you, still standing awkwardly a few steps away. "I had a long day."

"Yeah, it’s okay… where were you anyway?" you asked, the original reason for your visit resurfacing now that the haze had lifted. “I called.”

"Yeah, I saw."

"And?"

"And what?" he replied. The response irritated you just a little. You had been waiting for some sort of explanation, something to justify his being MIA all day. Where had he been that he couldn’t even send a quick text or pick up your call? But almost immediately, you reminded yourself that he didn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation, not an excuse, nothing.

"Nothing." You waited for a while, still standing awkwardly in the living room. A part of you is still expecting him to say something, to explain something. But the explanation never came. You let out a disappointed sigh, shaking your head as frustration began to bubble to the surface. "No. You know what? It's not nothing," you said, your voice sharpening. "You don't get to do that, you don't get to fight with me whenever you like, you don't get to hug me whenever you like, and you don't get to fucking disappear for the whole day and then act like nothing happened," Jungkook remained silent, his expression unreadable for a brief second. Then, to your utter disbelief, a small smile crept onto his lips. "What!?" you snapped, thrown off by his reaction.

"Were you worried about me, Bubbles?" that fucking nickname again. The retort that had been forming on your tongue faltered as you bit down on it. Were you? Of course you were, but you're not gonna let him have the satisfaction.

“I wasn’t worried about you,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively. “I was just worried that… if you died, who would look after your stupid dog?”

His smile widened, clearly unconvinced. “Sure. Whatever you say, bubbles.”

“Fuck you.” You lifted your middle finger in his direction before turning on your heel to leave before he could read any more into your reaction. You had barely taken a few steps toward the door when his voice stopped you.

"Have you had dinner?" His question was soft, almost gentle, as though he already knew the answer before asking. You opened your mouth, fully intending to brush it off with a casual lie, but the quiet grumble of your stomach betrayed you. The sound echoed in the stillness of the apartment, far louder than it should have been. Jungkook didn’t tease you or even acknowledge it. Instead, he simply held your gaze for a brief moment, concern passing through his expression, before turning away without a word, and silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

You watched as he opened the fridge, pulling out a few raw ingredients with ease: vegetables, bread, and a couple of containers you couldn’t quite see from where you stood. He moved around the space with quiet efficiency, retrieving utensils from the cupboard below and setting them on the counter. The soft clatter of metal against the countertop and the gentle hum of the refrigerator filled the silence between you.

You lingered near the doorway, unsure whether to leave or step further inside. This was unfamiliar territory for the two of you; you didn't even know that Jungkook apparently cooked. You take slow steps further inside, leaning against the fridge and peering over his shoulder as he mixes something in a pan.

"I am a vegetarian." You mumble.

“I know,” he replied simply, not even sparing you a glance.

A few seconds passed as you watched him continue with the same calm concentration. “I don’t eat dairy,” you added, a little more firmly this time.

"I know."

"I'm allergic to-"

“I know,” he repeated, cutting you off gently. There was a quiet certainty in his tone that made you pause, and you wondered if he really did know you as much as he implied. Then, in a fluid movement, he was in front of you. A small piece of carrot held in front of your mouth, you hesitantly leaned forward and wrapped your lips around it. "Just trust me,” he said softly, that familiar smile playing on his lips, the one that always seemed to make your toes curl most inconveniently. “I know.”

His free arm wraps once more around your waist and moves you swiftly closer to him, your breath hitching again at the proximity. You found yourself watching the side of his face, the sharp line of his jaw, and the quiet focus in his expression as he reached past you with his other arm to open the fridge and retrieve another container.

His hand lingered a little longer on your waist, even after he closed the fridge. Squeezing your waist gently as he moved back to the kitchen counter. You stood there, shocked for a minute or two before finally lifting both your hands and tucking your hair behind both ears. You moved, standing beside him by the counter.

“I can help,” you offered. Jungkook paused mid-motion, one eyebrow arching in clear disbelief before he let out a soft chuckle. It wasn’t his usual teasing scoff but a genuine laugh. Creases formed at the corners of his eyes, and his bunny teeth peeked through as he looked at you like you had just told the most amusing joke. “What? I can,” you insisted, folding your arms defensively.

“No way I’m letting you anywhere near the stove or knives,” he replied, still smiling as he resumed chopping.

“I might surprise you. I’m a great cook,” you huffed, slightly offended.

“Putting milk in cereal is not cooking.”

Your mouth fell open in indignation. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know I make excellent ramen.”

Jungkook hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider it. “Ah, yes, culinary genius. Should I be worried you’ll outshine me?”

“You’ve never even tried my food.”

“I have not,” Jungkook replied, pausing mid-motion to air-quote the word, “cooking, because the last time I saw you do that, your brother ended up in a hospital.”

You let out an indignant gasp, but the memory surfaced almost immediately, vivid and embarrassingly clear.

You had gone into the kitchen that day with a sudden burst of inspiration to recreate a snack you had seen on some cookery show. The enthusiasm, however, had been short-lived. Halfway through the process, you had grown bored and wandered off, completely forgetting about the dish still sitting inside the oven. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that the oven needed to be turned off manually—you had simply assumed it would stop on its own.

What followed was nothing short of chaos.

Smoke had quickly filled the house, thick and suffocating. Your brother, who had been sitting at the dining table, blissfully engrossed in his Game Boy, hadn’t noticed the danger until it was too late. By the time anyone realized what was happening, he had inhaled enough smoke to warrant a trip to the hospital. Thankfully, he recovered quickly, but the incident had cemented your reputation as a catastrophic cook in the eyes of everyone who knew you.

“In my defense,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you shot Jungkook a glare, “I didn’t know ovens weren’t automatic. No one tells you these things.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched as he tried and failed to suppress a smile. “Right. Because common sense is apparently optional in your kitchen.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “He was fine. And for your information, the quiche looked pretty good before it tried to kill him.”

“Wait… It was supposed to be quiche?”

“What did you think it was?” you asked, a smile slipping free.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook replied, glancing at you with a straight face that only made it funnier. “It looked like a burnt rat. I almost thought you’d gotten into animal cruelty.” You laughed, swatting his shoulder a little too playfully for the dynamic you were supposed to have.

A brief silence followed before the memory hit you fully, and you burst out laughing again. “God, he was so dramatic.”

Jungkook immediately caught on, placing a hand over his chest and staggering back a step as he reenacted your brother’s theatrics. In a trembling, exaggerated voice, he declared, “Mom… tell sis she can have my room.”

Your laughter doubled, echoing through the kitchen as you joined in, wiping at the corners of your eyes. “Tell Jungkook he can have my skateboard,” you added, mimicking the same dramatic tone.

“He really said that?” Jungkook snorted, shaking his head. “That fucker didn't even let me touch it.”

“Yeah, he was leaving all his inheritance to you,” you teased, leaning against the counter as you tried to catch your breath. “He was acting like he was your dying wife.”

Both of you reminisced a little longer about the past, recalling more of your brother’s antics and squabbling over tiny details you each remembered differently. While Jungkook focused on cooking, you couldn’t resist sneaking a few pieces of carrot and cucumber, only for his hand to swat yours away with precision, earning a quiet laugh from both of you.

The atmosphere had softened. The heaviness that lingered when you first walked into his apartment had faded, replaced by serenity. If someone were to see the two of you from afar, they would have assumed you were old friends who cooked together on a daily basis—comfortable in each other’s presence, moving around one another with practiced ease.

When everything was finally ready, Jungkook gently guided you toward the dining area, insisting you sit down and not letting you help with setting the table despite your protests. There was something quietly endearing in the way he took charge. A moment later, he returned carrying a steaming pot of vegetable stew, its rich aroma filling the room, followed by a plate stacked high with golden-brown potato pancakes. He placed them carefully on the table before grabbing a couple of bowls and utensils.

You both ate in silence, the kind that felt natural rather than awkward. The soft clink of cutlery against ceramic and the faint hum of the refrigerator filled the space, creating a quiet rhythm. The food made you feel like a homeless man who hasn't eaten in days. Even if the food was delicious, you didn't say it out loud, you're not gonna help him double his massive ego.

He said something, but his voice was so quiet that you couldn’t quite make it out. You looked up from your plate, giving him a questioning glance, silently asking him to repeat himself.

“I went back with her today. Eomma,” he said, his gaze fixed on the bowl in front of him. “You asked where I was…”

You nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. “Okay.”

A laugh escaped him, soft and hollow. It wasn’t amused; it carried a sadness that made your chest tighten. “She wanted to talk about the house.”

“The house?” you echoed. “You’re selling it?”

“Yeah,” he replied with a small shrug. “We all moved out, so… why not?” But you could tell that the house wasn’t what weighed on him. His shoulders were tense again, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his bowl, eyes distant as if replaying the day in his mind.

“Jungkook…” you began gently.

“After all these years… I thought—” He let out that same humorless laugh, shaking his head at himself. “I thought that she wanted to see me. To talk to me. I thought she missed me.” He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “How stupid, right? She just wanted her share of the house.” The vulnerability in his voice was raw. “I was mad at her, you know,” he admitted quietly. “But I was also… happy. I was happy that she came to see me.” he quickly shook his head and swallowed the tears that formed in his eyes.

You wanted to comfort him, to get up from your chair and wrap your arms around him again, to hold him the way you had earlier. You wanted to tell him that she didn’t deserve his love, that it was her loss for not seeing the man he had become, for not realizing what she had walked away from all those years ago. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. So you remained where you were, hands folded loosely in your lap, your gaze fixed on him as he spoke. You sat there, silently, listening to him, hoping that your presence was enough to let him know he wasn’t alone.

*******

Something had shifted between you and Jungkook after that night. It wasn’t obvious at first. On the surface, everything remained the same—you still bickered over trivial things, still exchanged sarcastic remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself, and still acted as though the other’s presence was nothing but an inconvenience. But the sharp edge that once accompanied your words had dulled. The hostility was gone.

You noticed it in the mornings. Like clockwork, Jungkook would appear by the elevator just as you stepped into the hallway. He always pretended it was a coincidence, glancing at his phone, adjusting the strap of his bag, or yawning as if he had just arrived. But the timing was too perfect, too consistent to be accidental. He was waiting. You knew he was, but you just can't prove it.

It was a Sunday, and you had brunch plans with the other cheer girls. Soft music hummed in the background as you stood in front of your vanity, carefully blending the blush across your cheeks. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over your apartment. The morning felt peaceful. That peace was shattered quickly by a loud, impatient knock on your front door.

You froze, brush mid-air, brows knitting together. No one ever visits you unannounced, especially not this early. The knock came again, sharper this time; the person on the other side had little regard for patience or subtlety. You sighed, setting the brush down. “Alright, alright,” you muttered, making your way to the door.

Swinging it open, you found Jungkook standing there, hair slightly disheveled, dressed in a simple black hoodie and jeans. He looked mildly irritated, the face he makes when someone puts sugar in his coffee, something you had learned the hard way.

“What do you want?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, your tone laced with mild annoyance.

“I need to talk to Albert,” Jungkook said firmly.

The statement caught you off guard, your brows knitting together in confusion. Nobody talks to Albert, even you don't talk to Albert. Well, you do, but you are not sure he understands very well.

“You need to talk to Albert?” you repeated, emphasizing the name.

"Yes."

"Well, Albert is busy having his morning swim. So whatever it is, you can tell me."

“Your duck,” he stated, the word dripping with vindication, “has crossed some limits.” You stared at him, silently urging him to continue. “He pooped on Bam.”

You blinked. “He pooped… that’s ridiculous. Albert hasn’t left the apartment all morning. And the door was locked.”

“I am certain your demon bird can walk through walls.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “He’s a gentleman.”

“He’s a menace.”

“How do you even know it’s duck poop? Maybe some other bird did it. Hell, your dog is so stupid he wouldn’t even know if another dog pooped on him.”

“It’s duck poop, I’m pretty sure.” Jungkook shoved his phone toward your face. The screen displayed a Google Images page filled with various types of duck droppings. The search bar read: fat white duck poop.

“Albert is not fat,” you defended your pet indignantly.

“Yes, he’s not,” Jungkook agreed with a solemn nod. “He’s obese.”

“Take that back.”

“First, you ask him to apologize.”

“How do you even know Albert did it? Maybe it’s some other duck’s poop.”

Jungkook arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you know many ducks who live in this building? Maybe it’s Donald.” With that, he pushed the door open a little wider, revealing his dog, Bam, who was currently busy chasing his own tail. Sure enough, a large patch of dried white and green residue was stuck to his back. A laugh escaped you at the sight. “It’s not funny,” Jungkook protested. “Ask him to apologize.”

At that moment, summoned by the conversation, a soft series of webbed footsteps echoed from inside the apartment. Both of you glanced down the hallway. Albert appeared. Water droplets clung to his pristine white feathers, and he waddled forward with an air of unmistakable authority. His dark eyes fixed on Jungkook with what could only be described as suspicion.

“Look at him,” Jungkook muttered. “So smug. It’s like he’s proud of it.”

You crouched down, smiling sweetly. “Albert, honey, did you poop on the stupid dog?” Albert responded with a dignified quack. “There,” you said, standing up with satisfaction. “He denied it. Case closed.”

“Case not closed,” Jungkook insisted. “You’re taking Bam to the groomer’s. He stinks.”

“He always stinks.”

“He does not,” Jungkook shot back, clearly offended. “He smells very pleasant.”

You wrinkled your nose thoughtfully. “Oh, maybe it’s just you then.”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment before letting out an incredulous huff, though the corners of his lips. “Can you go now?” you asked, glancing back at the clock on your wall. “I’m getting late for my brunch.”

“This is not over,” he huffed as he turned on his heel and began making his way back to his apartment. “Come on, Bam. We’ll have duck soup for lunch.”

“I heard that!” you yelled after him.

“Good,” he yelled back without turning around.

You shook your head, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips as you closed the door. Albert waddled over to you, quacking softly as if seeking validation.

*******

Practice was a little more intense than usual that Thursday. The big varsity match was just around the corner, and even the most confident players carried a quiet edge of nervousness beneath their usual energy. Everyone felt this unspoken pressure hanging over the field like a storm waiting to break. And for you, the day was already off to a rough start.

You had changed your major for the third time, hoping that something would finally click, that you would stumble into a path that felt like yours. But the big, unforgiving F stamped across the paper didn’t care about your intentions. You were failing, or already had been, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, the warning was clear: one more failed class, and you’d be repeating the semester.

Ever since you had received the letter from the dean that morning, the words had been replaying in your head on a loop. “You are a bright student, that’s why I’ve called you here personally. So what is going on? You keep changing your subject, but you are not focusing on anything. We can provide extra help if you need it.” It wasn’t harsh. That was the worst part. It was gentle. Concerned, even. And somehow that made it sit heavier in your chest. You kept seeing the dean’s expression—patient, expectant, like she was waiting for an answer. You had nodded at the right places, given the right vague responses, promised to “think about it properly,” but the truth was embarrassingly simple: you didn’t know what you were doing. Not really. You kept moving, changing directions, convincing yourself the next choice would feel clearer than the last, but it never did.

You stared at the white piece of paper, thinking of ways to disclose the result to your family. You already know what your dad is going to say. Just join the family business. But you don't want to join the family business. You want to become something, something of your own, something people will only associate with you and not your family. Something that will be yours and yours only. The paper in your hands crinkled slightly as your grip tightened.

“Hey, you alright?” You turned at the sound of the voice, startled from your thoughts, just in time to see Hoseok jogging up to you. Instinctively, you crumpled the paper in your hands and shoved it deep into your bag, as if hiding it could somehow make the problem disappear.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly. “Just wanted some water.” Hoseok’s eyebrow arched in quiet suspicion as his gaze swept over the bleachers, clearly noticing the absence of any water bottle nearby.

“Do you want me to get some for you?” he asked gently.

“No, no. It’s alright. Let’s get back to practice.” You offered him a small, practiced smile—the kind you had perfected over the years, convincing enough to pass at a glance.

Hoseok studied you for a moment longer, debating whether to push further. But true to his nature, he chose not to press. Instead, he gave a slow nod, accepting your answer even if he didn’t entirely believe it. “Alright,” he said softly. “But if you need a break, just say the word.”

You nodded in return, grateful for his understanding. As the two of you made your way back onto the field, the noise of practice gradually swallowed the silence between you. Yet, even as you rejoined your teammates, your mind kept drifting back to the crumpled piece of paper hidden in your bag.

Leshi had called in sick that day, leaving you in charge, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. With your mind already preoccupied by the dean’s warning and the result sheet, focusing on practice felt nearly impossible. Every instruction you gave sounded distant even to your own ears, like you were simply going through the motions rather than truly leading. In that moment, you found yourself incredibly grateful for your captain, who was usually the backbone of the team—always composed, always thinking a step ahead, and executing everything with effortless precision. You had never fully appreciated how much responsibility they carried until now. Right now, the field was nothing short of chaos.

“No, no, Millie, I fly first. You go after me,” you said, trying to keep your tone confident.

Millie frowned, shaking her head. “But you have the higher pyramid. You can’t be stabilized for that long.” You paused, considering her point. Normally, Leshi would have stepped in by now, making a quick, decisive call that everyone would trust without question. Instead, all eyes were on you, waiting for an answer.

“Hoseok, can you stabilize me for that long?” you asked, turning to your back spot.

Hoseok looked up at you with an easygoing shrug. “Hasn’t been an issue till now.” If Hoseok believed he could manage it, that was usually enough reassurance for the rest of the team as well.

Millie bit her lip, clearly still unsure. “It’s just risky if the timing is off,” she added softly.

"We'll try it your way if it doesn't work," she wasn't convinced.

"It's not just, Hobi. You have to think about the other bases as well," she argued, making you roll your eyes in slight irritation.

“Let’s just take five, okay?” you said, clapping your hands once to gather everyone’s attention. “The bases can discuss it among themselves, and if there are any issues, we’ll work through them.” A round of agreement rippled through the group of twenty or so teammates, grateful for the brief pause. The tension that had been building eased slightly as people broke formation, some stretching while others huddled together to talk through grips and timing.

You walked up to the bleachers again and took a seat. 'You can't even manage a cheer team for a day,' you heard a voice at the back of your head that sounded dubiously familiar to your father. You could still hear some of the girls talking, and you weren't paying any attention until you heard a familiar name from one of them. Your attention snapped into focus instantly. It was instinctive—the way a dog’s ears perk up at the mention of a favorite word. You straightened subtly, trying to appear nonchalant, though every sense was suddenly tuned to their conversation. Without turning around, you listened more carefully, your heartbeat picking up just slightly as you waited to hear what they would say next.

“OMG,” you heard one of the girls squeal from behind you, her voice brimming with excitement.

“When did that happen?” another asked, curiosity evident in her tone. When did what happen? You wondered, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the bleacher.

“Last Sunday,” the first girl replied. You immediately recognized the voice—Olivia, one of the dancers. Your mind began to race as the timeline clicked into place. Last Sunday? Last Sunday… as in the day Jungkook knocked on your door and flirted with you for fifteen minutes? The memory resurfaced with startling clarity: him leaning casually against the doorframe, that familiar half-smile tugging at his lips, the easy banter that had lingered just a little too long. Was he even flirting, though? Or had your mind simply twisted the moment into something it wasn’t?

“Girl, you’re so lucky. I bet he’s a great kisser.”

“I would sell my family house to kiss him, honestly.”

That was it. You couldn’t bear to listen any longer. The words echoed in your ears, each one landing like a blow to your chest. Your heart began to pound so loudly it drowned out the rest of their conversation, and a dreadful sensation started to coil in the pit of your stomach. A strange mix of nausea and disbelief settled over you as your mind raced to make sense of what you had just heard. Did something really happen between Olivia and Jungkook?

You wouldn’t have been surprised if it had. Over the past two years, you had watched him move through the cheer team like he was progressing through different levels of a game. You had seen them step awkwardly out of his apartment more than once, only to meet your eyes in the hallway. You had seen him kissing girls behind the bleachers after games, their laughter carrying into the night as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And yet, none of those moments had affected you the way this one did. Just the possibility of him being with Olivia—of him spending the night with one of your teammates—left you feeling breathless, as though the air had been knocked out of your lungs. It was irrational, you told yourself. You had no claim over him, no right to feel this way. But emotions rarely listen to reason.

Because this time was different. This time came after that night—after the way he had held you in his arms like a drowning man clinging to his only lifeline, like you were the oxygen tank keeping him alive. The memory of his warmth, the vulnerability in his touch, and the quiet intimacy you had shared now twisted painfully against the possibility that it might have meant far less to him than it had to you.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. The anger twisting in your chest felt sharp and irrational, and you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t Olivia’s fault. She was just another girl caught in Jungkook’s orbit—another name in a long list. If anything, she would probably end up heartbroken in a few days, just like the rest of them. But knowing that didn’t soften the storm brewing inside you. Logic offered no comfort. Understanding brought no mercy.

Before you could stop yourself, you were already on your feet, the bleachers creaking beneath you as you stepped down onto the field. The girls’ laughter grated against your ears, each giggle fueling the frustration and hurt you were trying so hard to suppress.

“Can you guys focus on the routine instead of giggling about boys like a bunch of high schoolers?” Your voice rang out louder, sharp enough to slice through the air and echo across the entire practice area. The chatter ceased almost instantly. Conversations died mid-sentence as heads turned toward you, surprise and confusion flickering across familiar faces.

You stood at the front of the group, shoulders squared, arms crossed tightly over your chest in an attempt to hold yourself together. A few of the girls exchanged uncertain glances, clearly taken aback by the intensity of your reaction. Olivia’s smile faded, her expression shifting into one of embarrassment.

“You know, Olivia,” you said, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade, “this is exactly why you can’t make it to the front.” A collective gasp rippled through the team. Olivia froze, her eyes widening in shock as every head turned toward her. “If your mind could focus on anything other than how to please the jocks,” you continued, the words spilling out before you could stop them, “maybe you’d realize that the only reason you’re on this team is that your mom is a donor here.” Olivia’s face drained of color, humiliation flashing across her features before she quickly looked down, blinking rapidly as she tried to hold herself together. Around her, your teammates exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to react. The tension was palpable, thick enough to suffocate.

You looked around the team, your gaze drifting from one stunned face to another until it finally landed on Hoseok. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his expression calm but disapproving. The disappointment in his eyes hit harder than any words could have. In that moment, your brain finally caught up with what you had just said. Regret washed over you in a sudden, suffocating wave. If someone else had said it, you would be the first one to rip them apart.

“I—” you started, the word barely escaping your lips before it faltered. The apology sat heavy on your tongue, but no matter how hard you tried, it refused to take shape. Your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms. Before anyone could say anything—before you had to face the hurt in Olivia’s eyes or the disappointment etched across Hoseok’s face—you turned away. The decision was driven more by the overwhelming weight of shame than by any real intention to leave, but your feet were already moving.

You walked quickly toward the bleachers, grabbing your bag with trembling hands. You slung it over your shoulder, avoiding any attempt at eye contact.

As you made your way toward the exit, the faint voices of your teammates carried through the air, each word landing like a pu.

“What’s her problem?”

“Her problem is that she’s a bitch.”

“Leshi takes a leave for one day, and she suddenly thinks she’s in charge of everything.”

“What's going on with you?” Hoseok’s voice came from beside you, breath slightly uneven as he caught up, matching your quick strides. You hadn’t even heard him approach, too consumed by the storm raging inside your head.

“Nothing,” you grumbled, not bothering to slow down or look at him.

He kept pace, his concern unwavering. “No, just talk to me.”

“I said nothing,” you snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to face him. The sharpness in your voice surprised even you. “Just leave me alone, Hoseok.”

Hoseok didn’t flinch. Instead, he studied you with a quiet sadness, like he could see straight through the walls you were trying so desperately to build. “You know,” he said gently, “if you keep pushing people away, no one is going to be here when you look back.”

You wanted to argue, to deflect, to say something—anything—that would lessen the weight of what he had just said. But no words came.

Without another glance, you resumed your hurried steps, leaving Hoseok standing there as you headed straight out of the field and toward the campus gates. You didn’t even bother changing out of your practice clothes, the cool air brushing against your skin as you walked. Your pace was relentless, almost punishing. You didn’t stop until you reached home. By the time your apartment building came into view, the muscles in your legs were burning, and your breath had grown shallow, but you welcomed the physical ache—it was easier to deal with than the emotional turmoil swirling within you.

Shame twisted painfully in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Beneath it all simmered a quieter, more unsettling emotion—jealousy. You know now, you know the name of that ugly green feeling sprouting in your stomach. You hated yourself for it. You knew your outburst hadn’t truly been about Olivia or the team; it had been about Jungkook, about the fear that the moment you had shared with him meant far less to him than it did to you.

You felt exposed, vulnerable—like you were standing at the edge of something very tall, just waiting for the wind to sway you. More than anything, you wanted to retreat into the safety of your apartment, to shut the door on the world and pretend none of it had happened.

You fumbled with your keys as you reached your doorstep, hands still trembling slightly from the adrenaline. Just as you were about to unlock the door, a voice stopped you in your tracks, the last one you needed to hear right now.

“Bubbles?”

You froze. Slowly, you turned around to find Jungkook standing a few steps away, his expression concerned. Of course, it had to be him. Of course, he had to be here—right when you were at your most fragile, when the emotions you had been trying so hard to suppress were threatening to spill over.

For a brief moment, you considered ignoring him, pretending you hadn’t heard. But your body refused to cooperate, rooted to the spot as you faced the one person responsible for the storm raging inside you.

“Did you walk home?” he asked, his eyes trailing down to your maroon cheer outfit, taking in the disheveled state you were in.

“None of your business,” you spat, pushing your door open and stepping inside, ready to slam it shut in his face. But a strong hand shot out, stopping the door before it could close.

“Hey, hey. What?” he asked, stepping closer, his expression shifting into hurt. “What’s going on with you?”

You paused for a few seconds, your chest rising and falling as you fought to keep your composure. Your eyes lifted to meet his just as he gave the door a gentle push, causing you to stumble a step back into your apartment.

“Fuck. Off. Jungkook,” you spat again, your eyes glossy with all the anger you felt. Jungkook let out a humorless laugh before casually stepping further inside, shutting the door behind him as if he belonged there.

“No,” he said simply, his calm defiance making you gawk at his audacity.

“What do you mean, no?” you demanded, incredulous.

“I mean NO,” he repeated, his voice rising just a fraction. “I’m not fucking off until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I SAID IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Your voice echoed through the apartment, sharp and trembling with barely restrained emotion.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair, trying to keep his own frustration in check. “No, we’re not going back to that, okay? We were doing fine. I’m not letting you go back to acting like a brat.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “We? There is no we, Jungkook. We’re not friends. Just because you cooked for me while I stood in your kitchen doesn’t suddenly make us friends.” The words hung heavily between you. For a moment, he didn’t respond. The defiance in his posture faltered, and something in his expression shifted—his jaw tightening, eyes dimming as the weight of your statement settled in. He looked hurt by what you’d said, not just surprised, but genuinely wounded. You just can't stop hurting people around you, can you?

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” you shot back, frustrated.

“Pushing,” Jungkook replied, his voice steady and firm. “You keep pushing and pushing until there’s no one left in your corner. The moment things slip out of your control, you shut everyone out and pretend you don’t need anyone.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he didn’t give you the chance. “I’m not letting you do that this time,” he continued, taking a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “Not to me.” The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten. “You can keep acting like a fucking brat all you want,” he added, the words harsher now, though the emotion behind them was raw, “but I’m not going anywhere. I’m not letting go.”

You were hurting, even if you refused to admit it to anyone. The ache sat heavy in your chest, and instead of confronting it, you did the only thing you knew how to do—lash out. If you were in pain, a part of you wanted Jungkook to feel it too. You wanted to hurt him. just as much as you were hurting.

“Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?” you shot back, your voice trembling despite the venom laced within it. He frowned slightly at the sharpness of your tone, but you didn’t give him the chance to respond. “You don’t know when to let go. It has always been your problem, you just never know when to let people go,” you continued, each word deliberately cruel. “I don’t need you, Jungkook. So stop acting like my fucking friend, stop acting like you know me, and stop acting like you fucking care.”

“No,” he said. You stared at him in disbelief, your brows knitting together like you hadn’t heard him correctly. The sheer audacity of that single word left you speechless. He stood there, unwavering, and that irritated you even more,

“Get. Out.” You placed both hands on his chest and gave him a shove, but it did little damage. He barely shifted, his feet planted firmly against the floor, his gaze never leaving yours.

“No.”

Your jaw tightened, frustration bubbling over. “GET OUT,” you shouted, louder this time, the sound echoing off the walls. You pushed him again, putting more force into it, but the effort only seemed to emphasize the difference in your strength. He remained exactly where he was.

“I said no,” he replied, his voice steady, almost stubborn. “You can act like a bitch all you want, but I am not getting out.”

The words struck a nerve, igniting the anger already coursing through your veins. “Get the fuck out.” You raised your hand to shove him once more, determined to force him out if it was the last thing you did.

But before you could, his hand shot up, catching your wrist mid-air. The sudden contact stole the breath from your lungs. With a gentle tug, he pulled you toward him. The distance between you vanished in an instant—your chests nearly touching. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing brushing against you.

You had to bend your neck to look up at his face, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. His grip on your wrist wasn’t painful, but it was unyielding.

“Are you done?” he asked, his voice low, searching, his gaze flickering over your face, trying to read every emotion.

“No,” you shot back immediately, though your voice wavered ever so slightly. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

“Well, I hate you too, princess,” he said, his voice rough. “But I’m not leaving. Because I know what it’s like to be left alone, and I’m not doing that to you.” The silence that followed was heavy and short-lived. Before you could fully process what was happening, your body reacted on instinct, surprising you just as much as it did him. Your hands lifted once more, but this time not to push him away.

Your fists clenched around the collar of his T-shirt, knuckles whitening as adrenaline surged through your veins. With all the strength you could muster, you pulled him down toward you in one swift motion. His lips collapsed with yours. The impact was sudden and desperate, fueled by anger, confusion, and a yearning you had been trying to suppress for far too long. For a split second, time seemed to stand still—the world narrowing to the warmth of his mouth against yours and the sharp intake of his breath at the unexpected contact.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was messy and urgent. Every unspoken feeling—fear, frustration, longing—poured into that single moment, blurring the line between hatred and yearning.

When his mind finally caught up with what was happening, his arm wrapped around your waist. He tugged you closer until there wasn’t even an inch of space left between you, afraid that any distance might shatter the moment.

His free hand travelled up, fingers brushing along your jaw before settling at the back of your neck, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. His lips moved against yours with urgency, slower, more deliberate. The initial shock melted into something warmer, something that made your chest clench, and your grip on his shirt falter for a second before tightening all over again.

Pulling back ever so slightly, your eyes met with his through your lashes. He studies your features, looking for even the slightest bit of skepticism or unease, for any sign that should make him stop.

"Are you sure-" His question was cut off by you.

"Shut up. Just shut up." You said before pulling him back down. This time, neither of you was surprised. Instead, he was ready. The moment your lips met again, he enveloped you completely. LIps swallowing every tiny moan escaping your lungs. Your hands have left their station on his collars and found shelter in the mess of his hair. A single lick of his tongue was enough for you to part them, to let him in and explore your mouth.

His hand travelled down your side, feeling every curve until it settled at the back of your thigh, gripping them and feeling the warm skin under your skirt. His breath was heavy through his nose, fanning the skin of your cheeks.

You pulled away again, and your eyes flickered between his. Without a word, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his and pulling him with you through your apartment, straight to your bedroom. He followed you with no resistance, like a puppy. You could hear the rhythm of his heart in the quiet of your apartment; it was beating very rapidly. If there were a doctor present, they would have declared he was having a heart attack.

As soon as the door shut behind him, you turned. You didn’t move closer. You just stood there, waiting for him to take the lead.

He didn't reach for you right away. He paused, studying your face. His hand lifted slowly, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “What are we doing?” he asked, his voice low—so quiet it barely carried beyond the space between you.

"What does it look like?"

"I want you to be sure. I want you to say it." There was a pause, and Jungkook almost pulled away. He wouldn't hold it against you if you had any doubts all of a sudden.

"Jungkook," You started, taking a step closer, eyes not leaving his for even a second. "Fuck me." That was all the consent Jungkook needed. His lips found yours once more, and this time, he was determined to take your every single breath away. One hand settled on the bare skin between your top and your skirt, while the other gently pulled on the ribbon tying up your hair.

You had your fair share of sexual partners before—back in school, even now in college—but none of them had ever made you feel this. Not like this. Not with something as simple as a kiss. Your whole body felt alive, heat spreading under your skin, every nerve suddenly aware. The anger, the frustration twisted into lust.

Your hands moved, gripping onto him, pulling him closer, needing more of him. You were already working on the belt buckle tied tightly around his hips. His lips left yours, trailing along your jaw, slower now, more deliberate. When he reached your neck, the pulse jumped between his teeth as he bit down gently. Your fingers are tightening around the hem of his jeans. A soft moan escaped you before you could hold it back.

"So fucking soft," he groaned, face buried in your skin. You felt your core tingling wildly, needing his warm touch. Your hands were now reaching for your own skirt. "Don't," he instructed, holding your hand and keeping them from pulling down. "Keep it on." His hand travelled under your skirt, pulling down the safety shorts along with your panties. "Always wanted to fuck you in this tiny skirt." His eyes were almost black as he bit down on his lips, taking in your whole body. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

"Always, huh?" you asked with a smirk.

"You have no idea."

"I thought you hated me."

"I do. So much." He replied, but you knew the feeling wasn't genuine. His one hand bunched up your skirt around your waist, keeping it in place. You watched as his other hand went to his lips, licking a wide strip and wetting two of his fingers. His eyes were still focused on your now exposed and extremely drenched core, lips glistening with your own slick. "So pretty. Can take a picture and hang it on my wall."

"Jungkook," You moaned at his words. "Do something," you whined, almost begging him to touch you, with your eyes, with your words. His hands hovered right above where you needed him, but not touching. He was testing your patience, although he already knows you don't have any.

"What do you say?"

"Asshole." The words escaped like a routine. Your brows furrow at his cruel behaviour.

"Uh, uh, what do you say when you very desperately need something?" You stayed quiet, eyes challenging him. Jungkook had never heard you say that word, not to him, not to anyone, so when you finally did, it sent a jolt to his cock.

"Please." You whined again. "Touch me, Jungkook." His cock was already hard, but after hearing you beg like that, he was certain it was going to burst through his pants. Good for him that he didn't waste another precious second of your time. Wet fingers found their way to your core, tracing your puffy, throbbing lips in slow circular motions.

"Fuckkk." You threw your head back at the contact. His cold metal rings contrast against your hot skin. He took it as an invitation and attacked your neck in deep, desperate kisses, not leaving out a single spot.

"Such a beautiful pussy, so wet." He stopped rubbing the spot for a few seconds, pulling out a sound of protest from you before poking your entrance. Fingers slowly enter the warm, tight hole. The thumb continues to rub circles on the bundle of nerves. "I want to taste you." He didn't wait for your response. His fingers were already inside his mouth. Sucking around them and licking every single drop of your sweet nectar. "So sweet, baby. Want more." He hummed in approval after pulling out his fingers. You watched in quiet as he slowly kneeled down before you. His eyes never left yours.

You wanted to scream. The sight of your neighbour kneeling before you while holding your eye contact felt enough for you to come apart. Your hand settled on his shoulder so that you wouldn't fall down from how jiggly your legs felt.

Jungkook maintained eye contact as he pressed a gentle kiss on your thigh, slowly trailing up towards your core. He paid equal attention to both of your thighs, alternatively kissing each of them until he was finally where you needed him the most. The fucker was taking his sweet time, like he had nowhere to be and could spend the rest of his days down on his knees.

When lips finally settled between your thighs, you swore you saw the gates of heaven. Your cunt was gushing with juices, and his tongue sneaked out of his mouth to lick every drop of it. He gave your clit a few tiny kitten licks before settling into long, wide stripes. The more juices you released, the harder he licked, like his sole purpose was to keep you dry.

You grind your hips, shivering at the contact of your clit rubbing against his big nose. Your hand gripped his hair tightly, pulling at it and drawing a moan out of him. The sweet pleasure stopped, the second he knew you were about to reach your high. "What the fuck?" You yelled, looking down at him. His eyes glinted with mischief as two of his fingers drew slow, teasing circles on your clit. "Jungkook, please." You whined for the nth time.

"What, bubbles? Do you think you deserve it? To come?" You gave him a desperate nod; to your surprise, it earned you a slap. right there, on your already throbbing clit. "I don't think so. I think you deserve me to fuck you all night and pull away right when you're about to come."

"I'll chop your dick off." You threatened in vain; it was not intimidating. Not when you were like this. Uncovered and at his mercy.

"Such a foul mouth. I shouldn't let you come at all."

"I swear to god-" you were slapped again in your sensitive area.

"Careful what you say, princess." You bit your lips, finally swallowing your pride.

"Please. I'll be a good girl."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"If you say so." With that, his mouth was on you again, working wonders. Two fingers slipped in, adding to the stimulation. His hand cupped the back of your knee and pulled your leg on his shoulder. Giving him a better angle to eat your pussy like you deserved. His lips wrapped around and sucked on your clit as his fingers thrust inside you mercilessly.

"OH FUCK...fuck." You were so close that you could feel your high in your mouth.

"That's it, Baby. Come on my face." You didn't waste a second to oblige, coming around his beautiful nose and lips. He lapped at every single droplet until there wasn't any left. "You ever wonder how you taste?" He asked, but you were too flushed to answer. "So fucking sweet." He tells you before getting up and kissing you again. Tongue shoved inside, making you taste yourself. It was so salty, but mixed with his own taste, you liked it a lot.

When you finally came down from that dizzying high, a rush of energy surged back into your limbs, restless and insistent. Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him with you as you stepped back, guiding him toward the bed. His lips never left yours—not for a second—as you stumbled back onto the mattress, the soft dip of it catching you both. A quiet breath escaped you, swallowed instantly as he moved over you, bracing himself just enough to keep his weight from crushing you. The world outside faded, the distant hum of the city, the noise beyond your window, all of it drowned out by the steady rhythm building between you.

Your hands moved again, gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling at it impatiently. The material bunched under your fingers as you tugged, needing to feel more of him, needing to close whatever distance still remained.

He pulled away, breath uneven, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. His forehead rested against yours. “Do you have a condom?” he asked, his voice low, quieter now.

You nodded, lifting a hand to point toward the bedside table. “Bottom drawer.”

For a second, neither of you moved. Your gaze followed him without meaning to, taking in every small movement, every shift in his posture as he fished through your bottom drawer. When he stood in front of you, pulling down his pants and briefs, your eyes settled on his huge cock. It was mesmerizing, your eyes glued to it, your mouth watered. You have never seen a prettier-looking penis. You were sure there was no such thing as a pretty cock, but of course, Jungkook has it.

Like iron to a magnet, you were already on your all fours, crawling to the foot of your bed. Your hands reached out and took the foil packet from him, trembling fingers brushing against his warm hands, teeth already working on tearing the packet. Lips turning up in a smirk as he watched you take charge.

"I don't think I've ever been this hard." You chuckled at the confession. Sure enough, when you touched his cock was throbbing, solid as a rock against your palm, the thick veins on it matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. You looked him deep in his eyes as you licked your palm, and now it was his turn to let out a whimper that had to be impossible for such a big man. You watch as the man turns to putty in your hands when you give him a stroke. One. Two. Three. "Fuck, Bubbles."

"And you said I wasn't a good girl. Would a brat do this?" You asked before leaning down and giving the tip a few kitten licks.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where'd you learn that?"

"You think you're the only one with a list of names?" Your lips, plump from kissing him the whole evening, now wrapped around his cock, tasting the warm, salty precum. A strong, veiny hand wrapped around your hair, pulling at it and pushing your head at the same time. His head fell back, basking in the warm, cushy feeling of your mouth.

"Stop before I start fucking your throat."

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Don't you wanna talk for the next week?"

"I thought you hate when I talked."

"I do. But I also loved when you were screaming-" the words died, replaced by his own groans when you took him a few inches deeper. He was so big that you had him lodged in your throat and still had enough to wrap your hand around. However, you could only have him in your mouth for a short time because he yanked you by your hair and smashed your lips against his. "Your mouth is pretty and all, but I really wanna fuck that pussy, Princess." You couldn't help but giggle at his desperation. hands finally taking out the slippery rubber from the packet and rolling it on him. You both laughed when the condom didn't cover his whole cock, a sliver of skin sticking out at the bottom. "Who have you been fucking? Frodo."

"Ha Ha. I'll have you know, Frodo is better than you."

"No chance." As though to prove, he picked you up with one hand and threw you on the bed, knocking the air out of you. "Let's see if you still say that in the morning." Your top and bra were ripped from your body the next second, big Bambi eyes drinking in your chest before a warm pair of lips wrapped around one. "How are you so perfect everywhere?" You can never imagine yourself blushing for a man, but here you are, flushed as you take each of his compliments.

His hand took hold of his cock as he slowly guided it inside, examining your face for any kind of discomfort. You gave him an assuring nod, encouraging him to keep going. Once he was deep enough, you stopped him with a hand to his chest. You are not sure if it's possible, but you can feel him in every single organ inside your body. Like he had taken shelter inside you. You were not two bodies anymore, you were one. One big mess of sweat and cum. You could feel that sweet burn when his cock stretched your pussy to the maximum. You were sure that a little more, and you would tear apart, but that didn't stop you from wanting more. You wanted so much more.

"You're so huge." You cried out.

"Do you want me to stop?" His hunger from before has faded just slightly.

"No, no, no. Please don't stop."

"You sure, Princess?" All you could offer was a desperate nod, and with one swift motion, he was inside you to the hilt. A loud scream left your mouth, you don't even know at this point if you called his name or god's. The line seemed to have blurred anyway.

"Fuck, I love your pussy." You looked down where you both connected. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, the good kind. Your lips looked puffier and flushed, wrapped around him. A visible bulge had formed on your lower belly. Once he was sure that you had adjusted to his size, he started thrusting, slow at first before picking up the pace. His mouth found your tits again, sucking at the bud that was almost as hard as his cock, tongue slipping out now and then. When he pulled away, your nipple was wet and shiny from his saliva, taking the other one in his mouth to give it equal torture. "Can't get enough of these tits. Gonna fuck them one day?" If you were in the correct state of mind, you would have questioned his statement. One day? But without even talking, he seemed to have read your mind. "Bet you a million this isn't the last time we are fucking."

"Do you always talk this much during sex?" You manage to say between the fog that is in your mind.

"Surprisingly, No." He dared to pull out all the way. You gave him a warning look. "Chill, Bubbles. Just wanna look at that ass." Before you could register what he was saying, he had pulled you up like a rag doll and spun you around, tugging your ass up in the air. Face shoved into the pillow, you heard the loud sound before you felt the sharp smack on your raw skin. Then again, and surprisingly, instead of crying out in pain, you were moaning in pleasure. The pain was a catalyst.

The man didn't waste much time before he was pushing into you once again, the new angle giving him space to move more smoothly. The squelching sound that your cunt made was so loud and vulgar that it should be embarrassing, but all it did was push you closer to your high. Jungkook's one hand snaked under you and started rubbing your clit in fast circles, pace matching the one of his hips.

If you thought it felt good before, it was nothing compared to what you feel now. The way his full length glided inside you so smoothly. His hips are making slapping sounds loudly against your ass every time he comes back. "Oh, ey oo, it fee oo"

"What did you say?" Jungkook asked and locked both of your arms with one hand, pulling you up against his chest.

"It feels so good." You cried out again.

"It does, doesn't it?" His lips found the neck again, sucking and biting at the skin, his one hand rubbing away at your clit while the other kept squeezing your tits. You felt so much pleasure and stimulation at one time that you thought you were about to explode. And you did, without any warning to the man behind you, the dams inside you opened, making you come around the cock still thursting inside you.

"Oh, my god. I'm coming. I'm coming." Jungkook helped you through your orgasm, magical hands, magical lips, and magical cock all working together until you were completely drained.

"That's it, baby. That's it. Just a little more." You nodded even though you felt so spent that if Jungkook wasn't holding you against him, you would have fallen down into the mattress and slipped right into dreamland. A minute later, he pulled out, hissing at the loss of contact. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside me." You tempted him just a little, eyes looking at him, challenging.

"Don't tempt me, Baby." He said, taking off the latex wrapped around him, and started pumping himself.

"Here." You said, finding enough vigor to turn around on your knees and offering yourself to him. Hands pushing your tits together and tongue sticking out, waiting for his hot, wide liquid.

"Fuck. Such a slut." He groaned as he gave a few more pumps before spraying all over your boobs and mouth. The sight before him was mystical; he wanted to take out his phone and capture it forever. So that he can look at it every single night. It was certain that you had ruined every other girl for him. He has just fucked you one time, and he cannot imagine fucking anyone else ever. "So fucking gorgeous." His lips wrapped around your, not caring for the white residue still lingering there. The two of you smiled into the messy kiss, tongues licking away the cum and spit.

When Jungkook finally lay you down on the bed, you drifted away quickly, exhausted from the workout you'd just had. You only felt a faint kiss before the bed dipped and he got out. You thought he had left, but you were so sleepy that you didn't get the chance to ask him to stay, even if you wanted to. Then you felt him in the room again, the quietest sounds of feet shuffling, and then a wet cloth wiping you, your face and chest, and your still sensitive pussy. When he lay down beside you, and you were sure he wouldn't leave, you finally allowed sleep to take you away. Wrapped in his strong arms, so secure.

When you woke up, there was no sign of Jungkook in your bedroom. Your head was still foggy from your sleep and all the events that led to it. You looked down at your body, which wasn't naked anymore, instead covered with the big black t-shirt he was wearing not more than a few hours ago. You looked around for your phone and found it on the bedside table, plugged into your charger. You don't remember any of it, charging your phone or putting on his shirt, which only meant one thing. Jungkook did it for you. The thought put a smile on your face.

Everything came crashing down on you all at once—you had sex with Jeon Jungkook. The Jeon Jungkook. The boy you swore to your friends you hated. The boy you spent so long pretending you didn’t want. You checked your phone. A little past one in the morning. You didn’t remember when you fell asleep, but it had been deep, heavy—the kind of sleep that left your body loose and your mind quiet. What pulled you out of it was the dull, insistent urge to pee. You pushed yourself up, legs a little unsteady, a soft, lingering soreness settling between them as you made your way to the bathroom. When you were done, you padded out of your room, still half-dazed, heading toward the kitchen in search of something to calm your growling stomach.

But you stopped in your tracks. So… he didn’t leave. Jungkook stood with his back to you, bare from the waist up, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips—low enough to reveal the dip of his ass. His shoulders shifted as he moved, focused on whatever he was making at the counter. Jungkook was standing on the kitchen counter. Cooking.

“You missed it again,” he said, tossing another tiny piece of what you assumed was carrot forward. Albert snapped his beak open, catching it this time. You blinked. He was… talking to your duck.

“He’s not a dog, you know,” you said, stepping closer, your voice still rough from sleep. Jungkook turned at the sound, and the moment his eyes landed on you, a smile spread across his face.

"You're up."

“And you seem to be getting along with my duck.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged lightly, glancing back at Albert. “We’ve come to peace. Turns out he’s not such a bad guy.” A quiet laugh slipped out of you, soft and unguarded. You were about to slip in another snarky remark, but you didn’t get the chance. He stepped closer, closing the distance in a second. His lips met yours. It wasn’t anything like last night. No urgency. No heat threatening to consume everything in its path. No desperation clawing its way to the surface. Just… a kiss. Slow. Warm. His hand brushed lightly against your waist, not pulling you closer, just holding you. And when he pulled away, it was unhurried. But it still left you standing there, breath uneven, wanting just a little more. "You know you have nothing in your pantry, how do you survive?"

"Kale smoothies," You started, but then settled for the truth, "That's a lie, actually, I eat ramen three times a week."

“Damn, what would the people say?” he asked, gasping dramatically.

“They’d never find out,” you replied, your voice dropping into threat.

"Understood." Seems like Jungkook had been cooking in your kitchen for a while now, because he was done 2 minutes later. Handing you a bowl full of egg fried rice. When he went to sit down at your dining table, you pulled on his arm, tugging him to your bedroom.

"My ass would not agree to sitting on a hard surface right now." Your statement put a smirk on his face, filled with pride. The two of you settled on your bed, eating your late dinner in peace. The first bite coaxed a moan out of you.

"Should I leave you two alone?"

"Yes, please. It's so good." It wasn't a daily occurrence for two of you to share a meal; however, it all felt so natural. The way he cooked for you, knowing you would wake up hungry; the way his hand reached out and thumb swiped at the corner of your mouth, gathering the remnant and licking it. It felt like you had been doing this for years. The silence felt so peaceful, no tension, no remarks.

Your thoughts travelled back to the day, to everything that went down. A question formed on your lips, contemplating whether you should voice it or not; after all, he doesn't owe you any explanation. Did you even want to know? If Jungkook did actually hook up with some other girl, would you want to know?

"Did you sleep with Olivia?" You asked, wanting to release your mind from this torment.

"With who?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Olivia, one of the dancers? Last Sunday?"

"I haven't hooked up with anyone since... I don't know its been a long time." He wasn't lying, you could tell. Because you have heard people lie, hell, you lie all the time. But Jungkook wasn't lying. "Why?"

"She said something about you kissing her."

"Wait, she said I kissed her?" Did she? You don't even remember the exact conversation that went down between the girls, but now that you try to remember, no, she didn't. She didn't say Jungkook kissed her. Oh God, what a fucking fool you were.

"No. not really... wait, so nothing happened between you two?"

"I gave her Jimin's number if that's what you mean." Oh god, oh god, you were such a fool. You acted like a bitch, and for absolutely no reason.

"I'm such an idiot," you sighed.

"Wait, is that why you were so mad last night?" Embarrassment, that's. all you felt as the heat rose up to your face. "Were you jealous, Bubbles?" He asked, taking the bowl from your hand and keeping it aside on the table.

"What? No... that's ridiculous, why would I be... why would I be jealous?" You faked a laugh. "I was not jealous."

"It's okay. It's hot." The next second, you were trapped under Jungkook once again. His hips slowly ground on your core. The only thing that was separating you was his sweatpants and your panties. "So fucking hot when you're jealous." His hand was pushing at your t-shirt until it was bunched up over your breast. Two mounds exposed to him, waiting for his attention, nipples perking up instantly as his lips found them.

He started sucking on one of them, you were growing wetter with each passing second. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, playing with your hard nub. His teeth bit on it, gently pulling at it until a loud moan escaped you. He let go of the nipple with a wet blop and started sucking on the other one, giving it equal attention.

You grabbed his hand, which was squeezing and playing with your tits, pulling it down and inside your panties, guiding his finger to rub at your sensitive clit. When he started rubbing hard and fast, you left his hand, your own going inside his sweatpants and pulling out his cock, which was hard once again. The room was filled with both of your moans as you came around his fingers, his lips found yours, and he drank away your moans.

"Round two?" He asked, his eyes glinting with lust and mischief.

"Round two."

*******

The next time you woke up, you weren't alone; a muscular arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to a warm, firm chest. Reminding you of the man it was connected to. You didn't get much sleep last night, given the number of times Jungkook had made you come in such a short period of time. The thought made you blush out of character. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought you would be sleeping with Jeon Jungkook, let alone waking up next to him.

You turned around just in time to witness his eyelashes flutter open, a sleepy smile forming on his lips, pulling you closer to his warmth. "Morning." His voice was scruffy, still lingering with the traces of deep slumber.

"Morning." You replied, leaning in and planting a kiss on his mouth. It felt so intimate, even more so than the events of last night. "We should get up, gonna get late for practice."

"Let's just skip today."

"You don't skip."

"I will if you will," you laughed, dragging yourself out of the bed, pulling a loud, petulant groan from the man. You wobbled in the first two steps before you finally regained your balance. Jungkook wasn't far behind you when he pulled you back against his chest. "Jungkook," You started scolding him, but were distracted by his lips yet again. You can never get used to this man kissing you. He does it so easily, like the two of you have been doing it for years, when in reality, merely two months ago, you two were ready to kill each other over a silly argument. "You really need to go and get ready," you said, but your actions did not match your words. Neck leaning up, inviting his kisses. You were so engrossed in the way his kisses trailed all over your face that you were thrown off guard by the next question leaving his mouth.

"Date me?"

"What?" You asked, pulling away.

"Date me. Be my girlfriend. Let me be your boyfriend." You rolled your eyes at his explanation.

"I know what you mean, Jungkook. But why? Why all of a sudden?"

"Why? Is it not obvious already? It's not all of a sudden. Tell me you didn't feel this connection all along." You pulled away, unwrapping his arms from your waist.

"I did, but."

"But what?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why? We are so good together. And the sex? The sex is amazing."

"We can't just date because the sex is good, Jungkook. Look, what happened last night was amazing, but it was-"

"Don't say that."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I know. And it was not on a whim." He said, pulling you closer once again, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know that, don't lie to yourself. I like you, I think I do a little more than just like you. So please, think about this."

"I just... What if it doesn't work? I don't think I can go back to hating you, not after last night."

"If it doesn't work, then it doesn't. But what if it does? Aren't you just a little curious?" You nod, teeth biting into your lower lip, and you consider his offer. "Date me. Please. If it doesn't work, I will never show you my face again; you will not have to deal with me."

"Fine. I'll think about it," You answered, letting your body be lost in his arms. "But if it doesn't work, I might actually have to kill you."

"We'll see about that." He said before pulling you in for another kiss. You two ended up skipping college for real, creating suspicion among both of your friends. The whole day was spent on your bed, snuggling, kissing. The only time he left was to feed Bam, and he was back in less than 10 minutes. Jungkook made you squirt so many times that you actually had to drink some water so you wouldn't die of dehydration.

Right now, he was on his knees, face buried between your thighs as he lapped at you. You were trying to watch a movie together, which was nothing but background noise now. Your moans are echoing louder than the dialogue. The couch was sprayed white with his own cum just a few minutes ago.

"Oh fuck, Jungkook," You moaned as his tongue put just the right amount of pressure on your clit. The muscle stroking and flicking it. Tears running all over your face, not from anything but the overstimulation you felt between your legs. You felt so sore, and you were pretty sure your pussy was swollen and red by now. But Jungkook was a starved man, he was determined to make up for all the time you two wasted fighting and not kissing. After your nth orgasm of the night, he came up to you, lips pressing against yours in a sweet kiss. He pulled away just as quickly, only to trail kisses along your cheeks, licking away the tears.

Once you were down from your high, the blur in your eyes cleared, allowing you to see the beautiful man in front of you clearly. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you down to plant a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. His eyes held the entire galaxy, so big, round, and shiny. You have always been able to find solace in his eyes, no matter how hard you're fighting, when you were a kid, when you were a teenager, when you moved here, and now. His eyes always gave you this sense of familiarity that no one and nothing could ever provide.

Before you could word out your admiration, a loud quack pulled both of your attention. Albert was standing just beside the sofa, head tilted to one side, probably wondering why this man who had never before, yesterday, stepped into this apartment was now on top of you. He quacked again, making Jungkook burst out in laughter, followed by you, not even a beat later.

"Was he staring the whole time?"

"Probably."

"That duck is very weirdly obsessed with you, you know."

*******