#jkfanfics

“Wow… he’s finally out,” you murmur, too casually for something that tugs a little deeper than you’d like to admit.

You scroll again, and then you see him.

The video loads—him in uniform, posture straight, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Park Jimin stands beside him, close, familiar. Cameras flash. People shout. He bows slightly, polite, controlled.

You watch it once.

Then again.

And again.

Same expression. Same careful distance in his eyes. Same way he avoids lingering on the cameras for too long.

Still him.

Your thumb pauses mid-air before moving again, almost unconsciously. Instagram opens.

Not his main account—you unfollowed that a long time ago.

Instead, you go to the one you never left.

The second account. The quiet one.

There it is.

A selfie. Still in uniform. Bare-faced, a little tired, but unmistakably him.

finally done.

That’s it.

Short. Like him.

You stare longer than you mean to.

Your fingers hover over the screen.

Hesitate.

Then—before you can overthink it—you tap.

Message box opens.

You type:

yn : congrats kook!!! proud of you :)

You hit send.

The message delivers instantly, sitting there beneath his name like it’s always belonged.

For a second, you just stare at it—heart quieter than it should be, or maybe louder. You can’t tell.

Then—

your phone lights up.

A reply.

jk : thank you yn

Simple. Straightforward. Very him.

Your thumb hovers again, uncertainty creeping in—but before you can decide what to say—

Another message comes in.

jk : how have you been? :)))

You exhale softly, almost a laugh, but not quite.

Of course he’d ask that.

Like two years is something you can summarize in a sentence. Like nothing in between ever got complicated.

Your gaze lingers on his messages, but your mind drifts somewhere else entirely.

Back then, you and Jeon Jungkook used to be something else entirely.

Not lovers. Not almost-lovers.

Just… close. Best friends? Maybe…

The kind of close people don’t question out loud—but always notice.

And then there was Kim Mingyu—the third piece that made everything feel balanced. The three of you moved like a unit, slipping into routines without ever needing to talk about them.

That year you spent in Korea doesn’t feel real anymore.

It’s all fragments now—late-night meals that turned into early mornings, quiet walks with no destination, convenience store runs at 2 a.m., laughter that didn’t need explaining.

You saw each other almost every day.

Almost. It felt almost surreal if you think about it. But eventually life goes in the way.

You left Korea. He enlisted. Mingyu got tangled in his busy schedule.

No fight. No closure. No goodbyes.

And now—

his message sits there, simple and harmless, but it pulls everything back it never really left.

You type something safe at first. A quick update. Work. Life. Nothing too personal.

yn: i’ve been good… kinda busy with work lately

He replies.

jk : let me guess, you opened a fashion line?

You blink, a small frown forming.

yn: how do you knoww

The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Then comes back again.

jk: you never shut up about it

Something soft hits your chest.

yn: you remember that? 😭

jk: i remember lots of things

The conversation stretches longer than it should. Easier than it should. Like your fingers remember him better than your mind does.

One reply turns into another. Then another. The conversation keeps going, stretching past what makes sense, past what you planned—like two people who haven’t spoken in years suddenly trying to make up for all of it at once.

And surprisingly—he matches your pace.

No hesitation. No awkward pauses.

Everything just felt in place. Like he’s been waiting for this. Like he just got his best friend back.

yn: how was the military?

jk: long

yn: that’s it? 😭

jk: i missed normal things

yn: like what

jk: late night walks

jk: convenience store runs

jk: just… being able to go out

yn: …yeah

jk: you remember those?

yn: of course i do

You keep texting each other.

Not constantly. Not the kind that demands instant replies.

There are gaps—hours, sometimes more. Work, schedules, different lives pulling you in different directions.

But somehow—

whenever there’s a moment, a pause, a second to breathe—

you find your way back to him.

And he does the same.

yn: sorry just saw this 😭busy with work all day

jk: it’s okay i just woke up anyway

yn: of course you did

jk: don’t start

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks into months.

Three months—and it becomes a habit.

Small updates. Random thoughts. Late-night conversations that stretch longer than they should.

And some nights—

he calls.

Not often. But enough.

jk: you awake

yn: yeah

A second later your phone lights up.

Incoming call.

“Hello?”

There’s a small pause on the other end. Then his voice—lower than you remember, rough around the edges in a way that doesn’t feel unfamiliar.

“Hey.”

“You sound tired,” he says after a moment.

“You sound the same,” you reply.

A soft huff of laughter. “I’ll take that as a good thing.”

Some nights, you talk about nothing important. 

Work. His schedules. Random things that don’t matter—but somehow do.

And other nights—you don’t say much at all.

“You sleepy?” he asks.

“A little.”

“Mm.”

There’s a soft rustle, then—

the call switches.

Your screen lights up with his face.

Dim lighting. Slightly messy hair. Barefaced. Real.

For a second, neither of you says anything.

You adjust your phone, pulling the blanket up as you settle in, your face half-hidden. He shifts too, resting against his pillow, camera angled just enough.

You can see him blink slowly, eyes heavier than before. 

“You can sleep, you know,” you mumble, voice softer now.

“Yeah… you too.”

But neither of you moves to end the call.

Minutes pass.

Your eyes start to close, opening only halfway now.

“y/n..”

“Yeah?”

“Dont hang up.”

You smiled, keeping your eyes closed. “I won’t”

And neither of you does. 

Somewhere between the silence and the distance—

you found your way back to each other.

And neither of you is ready to let go again.

—

It’s somewhere in the fourth month that things begin to change.

His replies take longer. Conversations that used to stretch now come in shorter pieces. Still there—but not as constant.

jk: things are getting a bit busy here

yn: yeah?

jk: we’re planning a comeback

jk: probably around march

You stare at the screen for a second.

Of course.

It makes sense.

yn: that’s big

yn: you must be excited

jk: yeah

jk: nervous too

yn: you’ll do fine

yn: you always do

jk: you say that like you’ve seen it before

yn: i have

His texts grow shorter. Less frequent.

But no matter how busy he gets—no matter how quiet the days become—

at night, he still calls.

“Long day?” you ask once.

“Yeah.”

“You sound tired.”

“I am.”

A quiet pause.

Then softer—

“But I wanted to call you.”

You don’t get the chance to respond.

Your phone buzzes.

A notification.

You frown slightly, pulling it away from your ear just enough to check—

A ticket.

Concert. March. Goyang.

Your breath catches.

Then another message comes in.

“…what?” you mumble, more to yourself than to him.

There’s a quiet pause on the other end—like he’s waiting for you to notice.

“I sent you something,” he says.

You stare at your screen, still trying to process it.

“What the hell, Kook?”

A soft laugh.

“Surprise.”

“You sent me a concert ticket?” you sit up now, fully awake. “Are you serious?”

“You’re coming, right?”

He says it so casually. Like it’s obvious.

Like there’s no version of this where you don’t.

“I can’t,” you say quickly, almost instinctively. “I have work and—”

“Oh, c’mon,” he cuts in, voice a little more awake now. “I’ll pay for the whole expenses, your flight and hotel.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he keeps going.

“Please?”

A beat.

“It’s our first comeback since the military.”

You let out a quiet huff, leaning back against your pillow.

“Someone’s eager to see me,” you say, voice laced with sarcasm.

There’s a pause.

“…maybe,” he says.

Soft. Almost careless.

You blink, caught off guard by how easily he says it.

“Wow,” you mutter, trying to brush it off. “Didn’t think you’d admit that.”

A quiet chuckle.

“Don’t get used to it.”

You hesitate, staring at the ticket still glowing on your screen.

“I can squeeze a week off… I guess.”

There’s a split second of silence—

then—

“Only a week?!”

You pull the phone away slightly, wincing at his tone.

“I have work, Kook,” you say, half-defensive, half-amused. “I can’t just disappear.”

A quiet exhale on the other end. Not annoyed—just… dissatisfied.

“That’s too short.”

You let out a small laugh. “It’s already a lot.”

Another pause.

Then, softer—

“I haven’t seen you in two years.”

That lands.

“Fine… we’ll see about that, okay?”

A pause.

Then you add, half-joking, half-not—

“Or I’ll just buy a one-way ticket to Korea.”

Silence.

Not the empty kind.

The kind where you can feel him reacting.

“…don’t joke about that,” he says, voice quieter now.

You blink. “Why?”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

“Because I might take you seriously.”

You let out a small laugh to break it.

“Relax. I have a life here, you know.”

“Still. One week isn’t enough.” he adds.

You let out a small breath, something between a sigh and a laugh.

“We’ll just see.”

—

Some night, Jungkook ends up in Itaewon.

Music low, lights dim, conversations blending into background noise. It’s supposed to be a break—just hanging out, nothing serious.

But he’s barely present.

Phone in hand. Screen lighting up every few minutes.

Typing. Pausing. Reading again.

Across the table, Kim Mingyu notices.

Of course he does.

He leans back slightly, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Who are you texting?”

Jungkook doesn’t even look up.

“Y/N.”

That’s enough to get his full attention.

Mingyu lets out a short scoff, leaning forward now.

“She’s coming this March. For our comeback.”

Jungkook finally glances up, just for a second.

Mingyu blinks.

Then frowns.

“And that brat didn’t even bother telling me?”

There’s a hint of disbelief—mixed with something else.

Before Jungkook can respond, Mingyu reaches for his drink, shaking his head.

“Call her. Now.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

A beat.

Then, more insistent—

“I haven’t heard from her in forever.”

He gestures toward the phone in Jungkook's hand.

“Call.”

And then—

your phone rings.

Its Jungkook.

“…Hello?”

There’s noise on the other end—music, voices, laughter layered together.

He’s not alone.

“Y/N.”

His voice cuts through it. Clear. Familiar.

“Yeah?”

A pause.

Like he’s about to say something—

but then another voice breaks in.

Louder. Closer.

“YAH—”

You freeze.

That voice—

“No way. Give me that.”

There’s some shuffling, a brief protest—

“Ming—”

“Shut up.”

And then—

“Y/N?!”

You pull the phone slightly away from your ear, eyes widening.

“…Mingyu?”

“Finally,” he groans. “You’re alive?”

You let out a breath, half-laughing.

“I could say the same about you.”

“You’re coming to Korea and you didn’t tell me?”

You blink.

“What—how do you—”

“I just found out,” he cuts you off, dramatically offended

You can practically hear the glare being thrown.

“That’s crazy,” he continues. “You're not gonna say anything?”

You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it.

“No, because you’re just going to annoy me every day.”

A beat—

then a loud scoff.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you say, fighting a smile now.

“That’s insane,” he shoots back. “I’m a delight.”

You laugh under your breath. “Yeah, sure.”

“Wow,” he mutters, offended. “I see how it is.”

There’s a pause—but it’s lighter now. Familiar.

“I’ll still come see you even if you don’t like it,” he adds.

You roll your eyes, smile tugging anyway.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t ‘yeah, yeah’ me,” he grumbles.

“Then don’t be annoying.”

“I’m not annoying.”

“You are.”

A short silence—

then a quiet huff.

Just as you’re about to end the call—

“Hey, Y/N?”

You pause.

“What?”

There’s a brief shift on the other end, like he leaned closer just to say it.

“I missed you.”

Your expression softens without you realizing.

A small smile tugs at your lips.

“I miss you too, asshole.”

A quiet laugh lingers on the line.

“All right… see you in March.”

“Yeah,” you murmur.

The call ends. Mingyu’s eyes shifted to Jungkook. Giving him a glare.

“Since when?”

Jungkook glances up. “What?”

“Since when did you start talking to Y/N again?”

There’s no teasing in his tone this time.

Just curiosity.

Jungkook leans back slightly, thumb brushing against the edge of his phone.

“…a few months.”

Mingyu raises a brow.

“And you didn’t think to mention it?”

A small shrug.

“It just happened.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is.”

Mingyu studies him for a second longer.

Then exhales, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable.”

But there’s no real frustration there.

Just… interest.

“So,” he adds, leaning forward again, “you two just picked up like nothing happened?”

JK doesn’t answer immediately.

His gaze drops briefly—to his phone, still in his hand.

“…yeah.”

A beat.

“Something like that.”

Mingyu leans forward again, resting his elbows on the table.

“How long she’s staying?”

“A week.”

“That’s it?” Mingyu frowns. “That’s short.”

“I know.”

Then Mingyu smirks slightly.

“Good. I get her for at least half that time.”

Jungkook finally looks up at that.

“Half?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu shrugs. “She’s not just your friend.”

Jungkook smiles.

Mingyu watches him for a second, then grins, lighter now.

“Damn. It’s been a while.”

Another pause settles—but this one feels easier.

“March’s gonna be fun,” Mingyu adds, leaning back again.

Jungkook nods once, gaze drifting for a second.

“Yeah.”

—

It’s a week before your flight to Korea.

Time has been slipping through your fingers lately—too fast, too quiet. Maybe that’s what happens when you keep yourself busy enough not to think.

Now you’re back in your room, sitting by the window. The late afternoon light spills in softly, brushing against the mess on your floor—your suitcase, still half-packed, clothes scattered like you couldn’t quite decide which version of yourself you’re bringing with you.

Your phone lights up.

jk: check your email

You frown slightly, thumb hovering over the screen.

yn: why

A few seconds pass.

jk: just check

Seoul.

Your name. Your details.

First class.

Paid.

You immediately call him. “Hello?”

“Kook?”

 “Yeah.”

You glance back at your screen, at the itinerary still open like proof.

“You booked me a first class flight?”

“Yeah.”

Your brows knit together.

“Kook, that’s not necessary.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you add, softer this time. “Economy is fine, I would’ve—”

“I know.”

He cuts you off gently.

Another pause.

“I wanted to.”

You exhale, leaning back against your chair.

“It’s too much.”

“No, it’s not.”

The way he says it—quiet, but firm—makes your chest tighten.

“It’s just a flight,” he adds.

You shake your head, even though he can’t see it.

“It’s not just that.”

Silence stretches between you.

You can hear faint movement on his side—maybe he’s pacing, maybe just shifting.

Then—

“It’s a long flight,” he says, voice softer now.

“I wanted you to be comfortable.”

Your grip on the phone loosens slightly.

Because it’s never just about comfort.

Not with him.

“Kook…”

Another pause.

Then, quieter—

“Just take it.”

“I mean, you’re friends with a worldwide pop star… no way you’re flying economy.” he adds.

“Unbelievable.”

“Mm.”

There’s a pause. He realized you're being quiet.

“You’re still overthinking it, aren’t you?” he asks.

You glance at the open suitcase on your floor.

“…maybe.”

“I told you,” he says, voice quieter now, “just come.”

You take a long breath. “Fine.”

“…thank you,Kook .”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Are you going to pick me up at the airport?”

There’s a small pause on the other end.

“I don’t know,” he says, almost too casually. “I’ve got rehearsal that morning… might ask my manager to pick you up.”

You hum softly. “Oh. Okay.”

“…why?” he adds.

You shrug, even though he can’t see it. “No reason. Just asking.”

“I'll see you at the soundcheck kay?”

“Okay.”

—

The alarm goes off earlier than it should.

For a second, you don’t move.

Just lie there, staring at the ceiling, letting it sink in.

4:23 AM

You’re leaving today.

Your phone is already lighting up beside you.

jk: you awake

You let out a small breath, reaching for it.

yn: barely

Almost instantly—

jk: figures

jk: don’t miss your flight

You roll your eyes, sitting up slowly.

yn: wow thank you for the concern

jk: i’m serious

yn: i know

You scroll your chat and saw notification you somehow missed.

Mingyu.

You frown slightly, tapping it open.

mg: i’ll come by your hotel later, send me your room number

yn : dont bother coming

mg : i love you too

yn : ew

mg: seriously, send me your hotel and room number later

yn: um… no?? why are you trying to come to my room 😭

mg: why are you acting like i’m a criminal

yn: because you are

mg: okay then i’ll just see you later

yn : y

Seriously, he hasn't changed a bit. Still loud. Still pushy. Still exactly the same.

Somehow that just makes you feel relieved.

You wonder what it’ll feel like to see them again. And right now—

that step starts with getting on that plane.