as self-centred as soojin is, she would give Jungkook her whole entire world, she'd give up anything and everything for him if he'd ask. chloe, as a petite as she is, would move mountains if it meant getting into his heart. maya, as confident as she is would change her way of living if it meant pleasing him. actually every single old love interest in his life would orbit around his axis if he wanted them to. but they were not really love interests to Jungkook. no, they were merely distractions. distractions from the woman who could own him in any way possible. the one woman he longs for with such desperation. the woman he's obsessed with in a way he should understand is unhealthy.

you. his beautiful, smart, sexy, perfect woman. you're not officially his yet, but he needs you to be or else he'll probably lose his mind.

Jungkook's life would be so euphoric if only you felt the same way he did. but you don't and just thinking about it is enough to depress Jungkook. he has it all – the looks, the confidence, the figure, the money. so why can't you just like him as much as he likes you? not to say he doesn't work for your love. he does. he works so fucking hard for it, without trying to embarrass himself too much, of course.

he does various things, trying to prove it to you, obvious actions that practically sing about how much he wants you. but you just can't seem to get the hint, can you? or maybe Jungkook's current worst fear is true. you know how he feels but you just don't care. that thought causes Jungkook's heart to tighten in his chest. he likes the first option, so that is the one he chooses to believe. as ignorant as Jungkook is, the intellectual part of him questions it. how can you not know how he feels for you when he does everything a guy in love would do? for a few examples, he cares for your likes and ambitions, he changes his busy schedules just to accommodate yours, he takes care of you when you're sick, he's constantly checking up on you when you aren't with him, he buys you flowers and chocolates. he makes the best love* to you, just like he is right now…

Jungkook grunts through gritted teeth as he thrusts as deep as humanly possible into you, hitting the perfect spot inside you that makes you let out a breathless, high moan of his name. the sweet sound you've made under him only motivates him to do it again and again. Jungkook thrusts his massive cock into your pussy, keeping his pace fast, hard and a little rough – just as you like it. your nails dig into his broad shoulders and rake down his back, causing it to sting. Jungkook groans at that, knowing it's going to leave marks on him. Jungkook loves any form of possession you show over him, he loves when you leave marks on him or tell him that he's yours. it's as if you know the power you have over him and you can see how badly you affect him.

Jungkook is one strong man, yet you have the ability to make him the weakest and most pathetic on earth. before you walked into his life, things were normal. he had gotten into short situationships, he fucked whoever he wanted, he could do whatever he wanted without you being in his every thought. but after he understood the depth of his feelings for you, things had become complicated and absurd. after a while, Jungkook could no longer live his life the way he used to. he couldn't fuck anybody else, he couldn't touch anybody else, he couldn't even bring himself to look at a woman who wasn't you. it would feel like he's cheating, cheating on you and cheating on himself – cheating on himself because you're a part of him, a big crucial necessity in his life. it shouldn't make sense, but it does to him. you're the other half of his soul, you just don't feel it like he does, as yet.

at the thought of his seemingly unrequited romantic feelings, Jungkook thrusts into you even harder than before, earning him a sweet gasp from you. he hums at the sound before watching you, your eyes are almost rolling to the back of your head and you look so heavily cock-drunk. well of course you'd be, this is the sixth? seventh round? Jungkook's hands that had been on either side of your head now move – one grips your hip, feeling your soft skin and the other goes to the back of your neck to guide your face to his, to meet him in a kiss. His kiss immediately starts off passionate, wet and filthy. you eagerly kiss him back, moaning into his mouth when his tongue slides into yours. you kiss him with equal fervour as he pounds into you so good.

you break away from the kiss, a string of saliva joining your lips to his. you keep your eyes open and on his, gazing up at him. he's sweaty and staring down at you with dark, hungry, heavy-lidded eyes. he looks so fucking hot, you're so grateful to have this beautiful man fucking the living daylights out of you, looking at you with such need. but beneath all the lust, you think that you notice something else. it looks so sincere, so precious. you think hard what it is you see there. you might have an idea, but that's just preposterous. right?

you don't dwell on that forbidden thought, since your seventh orgasm of the night is approaching. your moans become louder and you start clenching around Jungkook's cock. he thrusts become sloppy but he still keeps the animalistic pace, wanting to make sure your approaching orgasm is as good as the previous ones – maybe even better.

"f-fuck," he groans. "you feel too good, baby. always feel too good."

his praises always have your head spinning and pussy throbbing. your nails dig into his back as you mumble incoherent nonsense. you're on cloud nine, just as you usually are when Jungkook fucks you. he's the best you've ever had in bed, you wish you could be full of his cock every day and night.

"k–kook," you gasp.

"hmm?" he hums, looking at your parted lips and hazy eyes.

"gonna come." you mutter shakily.

Jungkook grips your thighs with both his hands and lifts you up a little. he finds the angle that's even deeper, making you whimper and arch up, throwing your head back into the pillows.

"yeah?" he asks before leaning down to lick your now exposed neck. "me too, baby."

you're so gone and drunk on his cock, Jungkook thinks you might finally agree to what he's been wanting to do for the longest time now – to come inside you. oh fuck, the thought of it makes Jungkook want to bust immediately. he imagines filling you up with his release, fucking it back into you, watching it drip out of your pussy. he hopes you'll finally allow it. he's feeling lucky tonight, perhaps you'll allow it since your walls are clenching so hard around his pulsing cock.

"want me to come inside, hmm?" please say yes, please say yes.

"no." you say, panting.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, feeling bummed. but rest be assured, he will release inside you one day.

you release first, crying out his name. he thrusts inside you a few more times before pulling out and releasing over your belly with a groan. he looks at your belly messed with his come, it's not where he wishes it was but it's still so fucking hot. after he reels from his high, he collapses beside you, staring up at the ceiling for a long while. your chest heaves and your eyes threaten to close. despite your body feeling like jelly, you decide that you really have to shower. you turn toward Jungkook, placing your hand on his chest, over his racing heart and throwing your thigh over his hip. Jungkook feels warmth spread through his body at the contact. he turns to you as well, placing a hand on your hip to tug you closer.

"can we take a shower, kook?" you ask, so soft and tired.

Jungkook smiles at how cute you sound. he'll obviously take a shower with you, he's more than happy to do that.

"yeah, baby." he says before gently kissing your forehead. "we'll go soon. I'm too comfortable to move right now."

"Jungkook the sheets are wet and i have your come on me." you state, threading your fingers through his soft hair. "let's go now and we'll come back and cuddle."

Jungkook nods, happy with that deal. he helps you out of bed and picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom since you're drained and walking on very weak legs – it's understandable, he's done a number on you. inside the shower, he steps behind you and turns on the water, setting the temperature to exactly how you like it. you lean against Jungkook and sigh in contentment as the hot water washes over your sore body. the both of you spend a long time in the bathroom – washing up thoroughly and sharing heated kisses. Jungkook initiates more intimacy by reaching between your thighs, but you smack his hand away with a little laugh, telling him that any more of this would leave you rotting in bed due to the inability to walk. he pouts but respects your decision of course.

after the shower, you both change into sleep wear and cuddle just as you've said. Jungkook brings you right against his chest, holding you tightly against him while breathing you in. he feels so full of everything nice at this moment. you're where you're meant to be, safe in his arms. he wishes that all of his nights could be like this, instead of a few nights only. he does appreciate what you do give him. after all you are the woman he loves with all his heart. he yearns for you in a way that borders on madness, so he needs all of you entirely.

You’ve been here two weeks and the place still smells like fresh paint and the green iced tea you keep in the fridge—extra lemon, always, because anything less feels like a betrayal.

You’re left-handed, so the smudges on the canvas propped against the living-room wall are exactly where they should be. It’s a half-finished night scene: streetlights blurred by rain, the kind of nostalgic blur you chase when the hospital pager isn’t screaming. You hum along to an old Olivia Dean track playing low from your phone, the one that always makes you feel a little too much. I could be the twist, the one to make you stop…

Your eyes are heavy. The kind of sleepy that comes after a twelve-hour shift and too much chocolate from the corner store. You love that sleepy feeling—it’s honest. You used to be louder, brighter, a little chaotic when happiness hit. Now you’re calmer, steadier. But when the rare free evening stretches out and the music is right, that old crazy-happy version of you still peeks out, dancing alone in socks across the wooden floor like no one’s watching.

You’re wiping a streak of blue from your left thumb when the knock comes.

Not the polite daytime knock, no this one is urgent, three sharp raps that cut straight through the rain and the song.

You glance at the clock—12:17 a.m. Your hair is twisted up in a messy knot, paint on your oversized sweater, bare feet cold on the floor. You open the door anyway.

The man standing there is tall, shoulders filling the frame, black hoodie damp from the rain. Raindrops cling to dark hair that falls across his forehead. His arms are crossed tight like he’s holding something back, and the ink peeking from his sleeves—full sleeves, bold lines, no hesitation—catches the hallway light. He looks strong. Solid. Nothing like the boy you remember from seven years ago.

But his eyes.

Those eyes hit you first. Wide, dark, frantic.

“Hi,” he says, voice low and rough. “I’m sorry—it’s late. I wouldn’t… I heard rumors. The new neighbor in 5D is a kids’ doctor?”

You nod once, professional even at midnight. “Pediatric resident, yeah. What’s wrong?”

He exhales like the words have been choking him. “My daughter. Ellie. She’s two and a half. The fever started fast—really fast. She’s burning up, coughing and won’t settle. I gave her the usual stuff but it’s not coming down and I—” His jaw flexes. “I’m across the landing. 5C. I know it’s late but I didn’t know who else—”

Something in the way he says Ellie tugs at a memory you can’t quite place yet. You grab your bag from the hook by the door—stethoscope, thermometer, the small kit you always keep ready. “Let me get shoes. Two minutes.”

He waits in the hallway, shifting his weight, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. You notice the tattoos again—delicate script on one wrist, something bolder climbing toward his elbow. Strong. Changed. Not the lanky twenty-year-old who used to laugh quietly at your bad jokes.

You step out, lock the door, and follow him across the landing. The hallway light flickers once.

Inside 5C the apartment is warm but tense. A small night-light shaped like a cloud glows in the corner. Toys are scattered in neat baskets—someone keeps order even when the world tilts. On the couch, under a soft blanket, is Ellie.

She’s tiny, cheeks flushed bright red, dark lashes fluttering against fevered skin. Her breathing is too fast, a little raspy. She clutches a stuffed bear like it’s the only steady thing left.

You kneel beside her immediately, left hand gentle on her forehead. Hot. Too hot. “Hey, sweet girl,” you murmur, voice soft the way it always gets with little patients. “I’m here to help, okay?”

Ellie’s eyes open—big, glassy, the same shape as the man hovering behind you. She doesn’t cry. Just watches you with that quiet toddler trust that breaks hearts.

You work fast but calm: temperature, ears, throat, lungs. “103.8. Sounds like an ear infection brewing on top of a virus. We need to bring this fever down safely.” You glance up at him. “Do you have children’s ibuprofen? Cool cloths? I can walk you through—”

He’s already moving, handing you the medicine bottle like he’s been holding it ready for hours. His hands are steady but his eyes are raw. “She’s never been this sick before. Not like this.”

You dose her carefully, help him cool her with damp cloths. Ellie leans into your touch without hesitation, small fingers curling around your left wrist like she’s claiming it. The calm version of you stays in control, but something warmer flickers underneath— that old crazy-happy spark, quiet for now, but awake.

Ten minutes later the fever starts its slow drop. Ellie’s breathing evens out. She drifts, still holding your wrist.

Only then do you really look at him again.

He’s crouched on the other side of the couch, elbows on knees, watching you both. The tattoos, the broader chest, the jawline sharpened by years—you tilt your head.

Something clicks. Slow. Like a song you haven’t heard since you were eighteen.

“Wait…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Jungkook?”

His eyes meet yours and the relief in them is immediate, almost painful. He knew the second he saw you in the doorway. “Yeah,” he says, quiet. “It’s me.”

You sit back on your heels. The boy you dated for one soft, sunlit year at the very end of your teens—the one who used to trace invisible patterns on your palm and say he was always calculating how to make you smile—is now this man. Inked. Strong. Carrying the weight of a sick toddler and a life that clearly didn’t go easy.

He rubs a hand over his face. “I recognized you the day you moved in. The way you hum when you’re unlocking your door... I didn’t say anything because… well, it’s been seven years. And Ellie was already sick yesterday. I figured I’d just… stay out of your way.” A small, tired smile. “Then tonight happened.”

Ellie makes a soft sound in her sleep, fingers tightening on your wrist.

You swallow. Nostalgia hits like the rain outside, steady, impossible to ignore. “You look… different. Good different. Stronger.”

He shrugs one shoulder, but his gaze stays on you. “Life does that. You look the same. Still sleepy-eyed. Still beautiful.” The last part slips out like he couldn’t stop it. He clears his throat. “Thank you. For coming. I didn’t know who else—”

“You don’t have to explain,” you say, calm again, but your heart is doing something complicated. “I’m glad I was here.”

The rain keeps tapping. Olivia Dean is still playing faintly from your apartment across the landing, the chorus drifting through the cracked door you left open. ’Cause I make it so easy to fall in love…

Jungkook hears it too. His eyes flick toward the sound, then back to you. Something soft and wondering crosses his face.

You close your apartment door behind you with a soft click that sounds way too loud in the quiet hallway. The rain is still going, softer now, like it’s decided to mind its own business. Your sweater smells faintly like Jungkook’s apartment—warm laundry and that faint baby-powder scent that clings to sick toddlers. You lean your back against the wood for a second, bag sliding down your arm to the floor with a dull thud.

“What the hell just happened?” you mutter to the empty room.

Your voice comes out half-laugh, half-groan. You drag a hand down your face, left thumb still smudged with blue paint, and shuffle straight to the fridge. The green iced tea is waiting—extra lemon, the slices floating like little life rafts. You take a long sip straight from the bottle because glasses feel like too much effort right now. The cold hits your teeth and wakes you up just enough to laugh again, this time properly.

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. With tattoos. And shoulders. And a daughter.

You sink onto the couch, the half-finished canvas staring at you like it knows you’re distracted. Seven years. You were eighteen and he was twenty, the kind of young where love felt like staying up until 3 a.m. sharing earbuds and laughing at nothing. Gentle. Easy in that teenage-end-of-adulthood way. It ended because life pulled you in different directions,your scholarship, his family stuff, both of you too soft and too scared to fight for it. No drama, no scars. Just… faded.

And now he has a kid.

Ellie.

You stare at the ceiling, tea bottle cold against your chest. “He has a daughter now,” you say out loud, testing how it sounds. It sounds ridiculous. And kind of… nice? No. Weird. Definitely weird. “Guess he got married. Or… something. People do that. Grow up. Have babies. Get tattoos that look really good—wait, no, brain, stop.”

A snort escapes you. You’re tired, nostalgic, and a little bit giddy in that confusing post-midnight way. The calm version of you wants to file this away neatly: helpful neighbor moment, done. The old crazy-happy part—the one that used to blast music and dance in socks—is already replaying the way his voice dropped when he said “You look the same. Still beautiful.”

You groan and reach for the half-eaten chocolate bar on the coffee table. Dark chocolate with caramel swirls. “You win some and you lose some,” you tell the chocolate like it’s your therapist. “He’s probably married. Or has a partner. Hot single dad with a sick kid at midnight? That’s someone’s whole fantasy. Not mine. I have shifts and paint and this tea that cost too much. Moving on.”

You take a big bite. The caramel sticks to your teeth. Nostalgia hits harder than expected—memories of him tracing patterns on your palm, calling you “lefty” in that soft voice, the way he used to hum along to whatever song you played even if he didn’t know the words. He looked different tonight. Stronger. Like life had pressed on him and he pressed back. The tattoos suited him. Made him look… safe. Capable. The kind of man who’d knock on a stranger’s door at midnight because his baby was sick.

You shake your head, laughing quietly at yourself. “Get it together. You’re a doctor. You helped a kid. That’s it. Tomorrow you’ll probably never see him again except awkward hallway nods.”

But your left wrist still feels warm where Ellie held it. And the song from earlier is stuck in your head, you hum a few bars, off-key on purpose, then switch to something louder and sillier just to shake the feeling. You end up dancing a little in the middle of the living room, socks slipping on the floor, chocolate in one hand, iced tea in the other, laughing because this is ridiculous and your heart is doing stupid fluttery things it has no business doing.

Eventually you collapse into bed, paint still on your hands, mind a messy swirl of fever checks, dark eyes, and the quiet fear in Jungkook’s voice when he talked about Ellie. Sleep comes fast, but it’s full of half-dreams: small hands, rain on windows, and a man who used to be a boy looking at you like seven years hadn’t happened at all.

The next day is a long shift—crying babies, worried parents, the usual chaos that keeps your hands busy and your mind mostly focused. Mostly. Every quiet moment your brain wanders back to 5C. Ellie’s flushed cheeks. Jungkook’s tired shoulders. The way he said your name like it still fit in his mouth.

By the time you get home it’s past nine at night. Your feet hurt. Your scrubs smell like hospital. You stopped at the 24-hour pharmacy on the way, picking up a bottle of children’s fever medicine, the good kind, the one with the little syringe for accurate dosing. You also grabbed a small pack of those honey-lemon cough drops that are gentle on tiny throats. Practical. Neighborly. Not because you couldn’t stop thinking about them. Definitely not.

You stand in front of 5C for a long minute, bag in hand, debating. Just leave it. Knock? No knock. Knocking feels like opening a door you’re not sure you want open. Leaving it feels… safe. Polite.

You crouch down, left hand steady, and set the small paper bag right against his door. A quick note on the back of a pharmacy receipt: For Ellie — fever reducer + gentle cough drops. Dose is on the box. Hope she’s feeling better. — 5D

You straighten up, brush your hands on your scrubs, and whisper to the door like an idiot, “Night, little one. Get better.”

Then you slip back into your apt, lock the door, and immediately go for the chocolate again. One square. Two. The green iced tea joins you on the couch while you put on the same song, volume low. You stare at the half-finished painting and try not to smile at how your heart feels lighter than it should after a twelve-hour shift.

“He has a daughter,” you remind yourself again, softer this time. “Probably married. Or dating someone really lucky. You’re just the nice doctor neighbor now.”

But the thought doesn’t land as heavy as it did last night. Instead it feels… curious and warm.

Two days slip by in a quiet haze of shifts, half-finished canvases, and the familiar comfort of green iced tea. You keep the volume low while you paint, the lyrics wrapping around thoughts you refuse to examine too closely.

You don’t see them. You tell yourself that’s fine. Normal, even.

Until the afternoon you decide you need new painting supplies.

The little art store two blocks from the building is your happy place—shelves of brushes, tubes of color that smell like possibility, the kind of calm that makes the hospital feel far away. You load your basket with cadmium yellow, a new set of brushes, and a heavy pad of thick watercolor paper that costs more than it should. By the time you step outside, the bag is digging into your left shoulder, your right hand balancing another smaller one. The sky is gray but not raining yet. Your stomach growls once, reminding you that skipping meals for extra sleep or a long bath is a habit that’s catching up to you.

You’re adjusting the strap when a voice comes from behind, low and familiar.

“Here—let me take that before it snaps your arm off.”

A hand reaches past you, gentle but sure, lifting the heavy bag from your shoulder. You turn, startled, and there he is.

Jungkook.

He looks different in daylight—black t-shirt stretched across broader shoulders, tattoos fully visible now, curling up both arms in bold, deliberate lines. A small silver chain rests against his collarbone. His hair is slightly messy, like he ran his hands through it too many times. In his other hand he holds a small shopping bag of his own—probably something for Ellie.

He offers a small, almost shy smile. “Hey. 5D.”

You blink, the weight gone from your shoulder leaving you oddly lighter. “Jungkook. Hi.”

“I saw you from across the street. That bag looked like it was winning.” He nods toward the art store. “Painting stuff?”

“Yeah. Watercolors. I… paint a little when I have time. Which isn’t often.” You rub your left shoulder absently, still processing how easily he just stepped in. “Thanks for the rescue. I always overestimate how much I can carry when I’m in there.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and low, nothing like the frantic tone from two nights ago. “No problem. Least I can do after you showed up at midnight like some kind of miracle doctor.” His eyes meet yours, direct and sincere. “Ellie’s doing a lot better. The medicine you left helped bring the fever down faster. She slept through the night. I… I can’t thank you enough. Really.”

You feel heat creep up your neck, a mix of professional pride and something softer. “I’m glad. Ear infections can sneak up fast on little ones. How’s she been since?”

“Grumpy but eating again. She keeps asking for the ‘nice lady with cold hands.’” He shifts the heavy bag to his other hand like it weighs nothing. “She’s two and a half going on thirty. Already has opinions about everything.”

You laugh despite yourself, the sound lighter than you expected. “Sounds about right for that age. They’re tiny dictators with the best hearts.”

There’s a small pause, comfortable but charged. People walk past on the sidewalk, carrying their own bags, living their own afternoons. Jungkook glances toward a restaurant just down the block—a cozy place with big windows and outdoor tables, the kind that always smells like fresh bread and herbs. The sign says “Luna’s Table” and you’ve heard coworkers rave about their food being stupidly good.

He clears his throat. “Look, I know it’s sudden, but… would you let me buy you lunch? As a proper thank you. They have crazy good pasta and salads here. Nothing fancy, but it’s honest food. My treat. You helped my daughter when I was losing my mind, It’s the least I can do.”

You hesitate, mouth opening on instinct to say no. You’re one of those people who would rather sink into a hot bath with music playing or steal an extra hour of sleep than sit down for a proper meal when time is tight. Your shift starts in a couple of hours. You already planned to skip lunch, maybe grab something quick later if you remembered.

But then Ellie’s voice cuts through the moment.

From behind Jungkook’s leg, a small head peeks out. She must have been standing there quietly the whole time, holding onto his jeans with one hand, her stuffed bear dangling from the other. Her cheeks are still a little pink from the leftover fever, but her eyes are bright and focused—on you.

“Nice lady,” she says, clear and serious for such a tiny person. She tugs Jungkook’s hand once. “Lunch. With nice lady.”

Jungkook looks down at her, surprised but softening instantly. “Ellie-ya, we don’t have to—”

She nods like the decision is already made, then looks straight at you with those big, trusting eyes. “Please? Appa says you make fevers go away. You come eat too.”

The words hit like a gentle nudge from the universe. You glance at the time on your phone. You do need to eat something real before the shift or you’ll be running on fumes and chocolate again. Saying no to a sick toddler who just asked so politely feels… impossible. Like it was written that you’d end up here.

You exhale a soft laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity and the warmth blooming in your chest. “Well… if Ellie’s asking, how can I say no? Lunch sounds good. But only if it’s quick—I have a shift starting soon and I’m terrible at remembering to eat when I get busy.”

Jungkook’s face lights up with quiet relief, the kind that makes the tattoos and the strong frame seem less intimidating and more… human. “Quick it is. Promise. And thank you. Again.”

The three of you walk the short distance to Luna’s Table. Jungkook carries your heavy bag without complaint, Ellie holding his free hand and occasionally glancing back at you like she’s making sure you’re still there. Inside, the restaurant is warm and inviting—wooden tables, soft lighting, the smell of garlic and fresh basil wrapping around you like a hug.

You slide into a booth across from him. Ellie climbs up beside her dad, bear in her lap, watching you with open curiosity.

Jungkook hands you a menu. “Their carbonara is ridiculous. Or the lemon chicken if you want something lighter. Whatever you want.”

You order the lemon chicken—something bright and easy—while he gets pasta for himself and a small kid’s portion of plain noodles with butter for Ellie. Conversation starts slow but flows easier than you expected.

“So… painting,” he says, nodding toward the bag he set beside the table. “You always had that creative side. I remember you doodling on napkins during lectures.”

You smile, a nostalgic flicker warming your cheeks. “Still do. It’s my way of unwinding. Hospital days can get heavy. What about you? Those tattoos are new. They suit you.”

He glances down at his arms, flexing one hand almost self-consciously. “Got them over the last few years. Each one means something. Life… got complicated after we lost touch. But they remind me I can carry things and still keep going.”

You nod, understanding more than you let on. The food arrives quickly. Ellie pokes at her noodles with a fork that’s too big for her, but she eats steadily, occasionally offering a piece of buttered noodle to her bear.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, then says quietly, “I didn’t expect to run into you like this. Or at all. But I’m glad. Really glad.”

You take a bite of the lemon chicken, and feel that pull again. The mature version of whatever you once had. Not the light teenage rush. Something deeper. Steadier. Like two adults who know how heavy life can get, but sitting here makes it feel lighter.

Ellie suddenly pushes a noodle toward you on her fork. “Try. Good.”

You lean in and take the bite she offers, making an exaggerated happy sound that makes her giggle. The sound is small but bright, cutting through the restaurant noise.

Jungkook’s eyes soften as he watches the exchange. “She doesn’t do that with just anyone.”

The meal passes too quickly—easy talk about shifts, his work from home in tech, how Ellie loves watching rain on the window.

When it’s time to go, Jungkook insists on paying, then carries your supplies all the way back to the building. Ellie waves at you with both hands as they head toward 5C.

You step into 5D, heart doing that confusing, fluttering thing again. Lunch. With your ex from seven years ago and his daughter. Because a toddler asked.

You laugh to yourself, already reaching for the iced tea, again.“This is getting ridiculous.”

But the smile stays longer than it should.

And for the first time in a long while, skipping a relaxing bath doesn’t feel like a sacrifice.

The lunch lingers in your mind longer than it should.

Not the food—though the lemon chicken really was stupidly good—but the way Jungkook carried your heavy supplies without making a big deal out of it. The easy way he listened when you mentioned a tough case from your shift last week. How Ellie kept sneaking glances at you over her noodles, like she was quietly adding you to her small list of important things.

You tell yourself it’s just nostalgia doing its thing, justlike... like old connections resurfacing because of a midnight fever scare and a random sidewalk meeting. Nothing more.

But two evenings later, you’re proven wrong again.

You come home from your shift exhausted, the kind of tired that makes your hand feel clumsy when you try to unlock your door, and all you want is a long, hot bath with music playing low and maybe one square of chocolate before sleep claims you. You’re already picturing it—steam, JVKE humming through the speaker, the calm version of you finally winning the day.

Then you hear it.

Soft crying from across the landing. is not dramatic, just the small, hiccuping sound of a toddler who’s had enough.

You pause, key halfway in the lock. The crying stops for a second, then starts again, quieter. A man’s voice murmurs something soothing—Jungkook. You can’t make out the words, but the tone is tired, patient, edged with worry.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you cross the landing and knock lightly on 5C.

The door opens almost immediately. Jungkook looks wrecked in the softest way—hair messy, t-shirt rumpled, one shoulder of it stained with what might be spit-up or tears. Ellie is in his arms, face buried in his neck, her small body still shaking with leftover sobs. Her eyes are puffy, nose running, and she’s clutching her bear like it’s the only thing keeping her together.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough. “Sorry if we’re loud. She’s been… off since the fever. Teething on top of everything, I think. Nothing’s working tonight.”

You don’t hesitate. “Can I come in for a minute?”

He steps aside without question.

Inside, the apartment is dimly lit, the cloud night-light glowing again. You set your bag down and wash your hands quickly in the kitchen sink out of habit. Ellie peeks at you from Jungkook’s shoulder, her crying slowing to sniffles when she recognizes you.

“Nice lady,” she mumbles, reaching one small hand toward you.

Your chest does something complicated. You take her hand gently, left thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Hi, Ellie. Rough night?”

She nods solemnly, then holds her bear out to you like an offering. “Bori sad too.”

You take the bear with both hands—your left one steady as always—and press a soft kiss to its worn head, the way you’ve learned little kids sometimes need. “There. Bori feels better now. See?”

Ellie watches with wide eyes, then leans forward, arms out. Jungkook transfers her to you without a word, and suddenly you’re holding a warm, sniffly toddler who tucks her face into your neck like she belongs there. She smells like baby shampoo and faint medicine.

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck, watching the two of you. “You’re good at this. Really good. I’ve read every book and I still feel like I’m guessing half the time.”

You sway gently with Ellie, the motion automatic from years of pediatric work. “Books help, but sometimes they just need to feel safe. She’s had a lot this week—fever, new teeth, new neighbor showing up at midnight.” You smile softly. “She’s allowed to be overwhelmed.”

He exhales a quiet laugh. “Yeah. We both are.”

Ellie’s sobs taper off completely as you hum a low, wordless tune—the same melody that’s been stuck in your head for days. She relaxes against you, small fingers playing with the collar of your scrubs. The calm version of you stays steady, but that old spark of crazy-happy flickers again, quiet joy at how easily she trusts.

Jungkook leans against the counter, arms crossed, tattoos shifting with the movement. “I keep thinking about that lunch. How you said yes even though you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else. Ellie basically guilted you into it.”

“She’s very persuasive,” you say, still swaying. “And the food was worth it. I usually skip meals when I’m tired—prefer a bath or sleep. But… it was nice. Really nice.”

His eyes linger on you a beat longer than necessary. “It was. For me too.” A pause. “Listen, I know you just got home and you’re probably dead on your feet. But if you’re not in a hurry… stay for a bit? I can make you that green iced tea you seem to live on. Extra lemon. I noticed the slices when you were here the other night.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised. “You noticed that?”

“I notice a lot of things,” he says simply, no flirtation, just honest.

The words land soft but heavy. Mature. Like he’s not playing games anymore—he’s a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say the small truths out loud. The way life hit him hard enough to leave tattoos and tired eyes. The way you’ve both changed but somehow still fit in the quiet moments.

Ellie makes a small, contented sound against your neck, her breathing slowing.

You nod. “Tea sounds good. Just for a little while. Then I really should soak in the tub before I pass out.”

He moves around the kitchen with quiet efficiency, slicing lemons with the kind of care that says he’s used to doing things precisely. You settle on the couch with Ellie, who has gone almost completely limp, trusting you to hold her while her dad works.

When he brings the glass over—perfectly sweetened, extra lemon floating on top—he sits on the other end of the couch, giving you space but not distance. The tea is exactly right. Cold and refreshing in a way that cuts through your exhaustion.

“Thank you,” you murmur after the first sip. “For this.”

Jungkook watches you over the rim of his own water glass. and glances at Ellie, then back at you, voice lower. “I thought about you a lot after you moved in. Before the fever night. Wondered if you’d remember me. If you’d want to.”

You take another sip, the tart lemon waking you up just enough. “I did remember. Eventually. You look… different. Stronger. Like you’ve carried a lot and came out the other side.”

“I have,” he admits quietly. “Ellie’s mom—my brother’s wife—passed with him in an accident. I became her guardian overnight. It changed everything. Made me grow up fast. The tattoos… some are for them. Some are for her. Reminders that I can keep going.”

The confession sits between you, honest and raw but not heavy in a way that demands fixing. You reach over and squeeze his hand once—left hand, paint still faintly under your nails. “You’re doing it. She’s lucky to have you.”

He turns his palm up, fingers brushing yours. The touch is simple. Steady. “And now you’re here. Across the landing. Making fevers go away and letting my daughter guilt you into lunch.” A small smile. “It feels… easy. In a way I didn’t expect. Like it doesn’t have to be complicated this time.”

Your heart does a slow, deliberate flip. Not the giddy teenage rush. Something deeper. Warmer. The kind of mature pull where two people who know life isn’t always gentle still make the hard parts softer just by existing in the same space.

Ellie stirs slightly, murmuring “nice lady” in her sleep before settling again.

You don’t pull your hand away.

The tea is cold by the time you finish it. The bath can wait a little longer tonight.

Because right now, sitting on his couch with a sleeping toddler in your arms and the man you once loved looking at you like you make everything simpler, falling feels less like a risk and more like the most natural thing in the world.

Weeks pass in the gentle rhythm that only new routines can create.

Mornings start to feel different. You still wake up to the soft hum of your alarm, still reach for the green iced tea first thing—extra lemon slices always ready in the fridge—but now there’s the occasional sound of small footsteps and a low, patient voice from across the landing. Ellie has taken to “patrolling” the hallway some mornings, her bear tucked under one arm, calling out “nice lady?” in her tiny, determined voice if your door opens even a crack.

Jungkook always apologizes when he catches her, but his eyes smile more than his mouth does these days.

One Saturday morning, three weeks after the midnight fever night, you’re painting in the living room with the window cracked open. The canvas is finally coming together—a rainy street scene with warm window lights bleeding into the gray. Your left hand moves steadily, smudging just enough to feel right. Olivia plays low in the background, the same songs looping because it matches the quiet ache in your chest you can’t quite name yet.

A knock interrupts the brushstrokes.

You open the door to find Jungkook holding two paper cups and Ellie standing beside him in a bright yellow sweater, bear dangling from her fingers.

“Delivery,” he says, lifting one cup. “Green iced tea. Extra lemon. I asked the café guy to make it exactly how you like it—told him it was for the doctor who saved my daughter from a meltdown.”

Ellie holds up her own small cup with both hands. “Juice. For me.”

You laugh, the sound lighter than it’s been in days, and step aside to let them in. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Jungkook replies simply. He sets the cups on your table, careful not to disturb the paint supplies. “Also, Ellie insisted we check if you were painting today. She’s been talking about ‘colors on paper’ since the art store.”

Ellie toddles straight to your canvas, stopping a safe distance away like she knows not to touch. She points with one small finger. “Pretty rain. Like outside.”

You crouch beside her, left hand still holding the brush. “Yeah, baby. It’s supposed to feel like the rain we had last week. Want to see how I mix the gray?”

She nods solemnly. You let her watch as you blend colors on the palette, explaining in simple words. Jungkook leans against the wall, arms crossed, tattoos shifting as he watches the two of you. There’s something soft and wondering in his expression—like he’s still getting used to how naturally you fit into their mornings.

Later, while Ellie sits on the floor carefully arranging your spare brushes by size (her new favorite game), Jungkook helps you clean a few palettes in the sink. His shoulder brushes yours once, warm and solid.

“You’re calmer than I remember,” he says quietly, not looking at you. “Back then you were all bright chaos—dancing in the dorm kitchen at 2 a.m., dragging me to late-night food stalls. Now… you seem settled. In a good way.”

You rinse a brush under the water, left hand steady. “Life taught me to slow down. Long shifts do that. But the crazy-happy part still comes out when I have time. I danced around the living room last week after a good painting session. Almost knocked over the tea.”

He smiles, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I’d like to see that sometime.”

The words hang between you, easy and heavy at the same time.

The weeks keep unfolding like that—small, overlapping moments that build without anyone forcing them.

Some evenings Jungkook knocks with leftovers because “I made too much again.” Ellie always brings her bear and insists on sitting next to you on the couch. You start keeping extra chocolate in a bowl on the table because she’s discovered she likes the caramel kind “a little bit.”

One Thursday night after your shift, you come home to find a small package outside your door: new lemon slices pre-cut in a container and a note in Jungkook’s neat handwriting. For your iced tea stash. Ellie helped pick the lemons. — 5C

You stand in the hallway smiling like an idiot, the calm version of you melting into something warmer.

Another afternoon, you run into them at the small park nearby. Ellie is on the swings, Jungkook pushing her gently. When she spots you, she demands “push with Appa!” so you end up on one side, Jungkook on the other, both of you laughing as Ellie squeals with delight. Her laughter is small and bright, cutting through the autumn air like the best kind of song.

Later, sitting on a bench while Ellie collects leaves, Jungkook leans back, stretching his inked arms along the backrest.

“I think about you a lot,” he admits, voice low enough that only you can hear. “Not just because you’re across the landing. Because you make things feel… easier. I’ve been carrying a lot since my brother and his wife—Ellie’s parents—were gone. The guilt, the fear I’m not enough for her. But when you’re here, even just for tea or a walk, it feels lighter. Like I can breathe.”

You look at him, really look—the strong line of his jaw, the tattoos that tell stories he hasn’t fully shared yet, the quiet strength in how he watches his daughter. “You are enough, Jungkook. She knows it. I see it every time she reaches for you.”

He turns his head, eyes meeting yours. “And you? Do you know how easy it is to fall with you? Not the young, messy way we were before. This feels… mature. Real. Like two people who’ve seen harder days still choosing the soft ones together.”

“I feel it too,” you say softly. “It’s scary how easy it is. But good scary.”

Ellie runs back then, arms full of colorful leaves, demanding you both admire her collection. The moment breaks, but the warmth stays.

That night, after they’ve gone back to 5C and you’re alone with your canvas and iced tea, you put on Olivia Dean again. The lyrics feel different now, less like a memory and more like a promise.

You dance a little in the living room, socks sliding, that old crazy-happy spark flaring brighter. Laughing at yourself because this—neighbor knocks, toddler leaf collections, quiet confessions on park benches—is becoming your new normal.

The weeks had settled into something quietly beautiful, but one Thursday evening cracked it open wider.

You had come home from a long shift, the kind that left your shoulders tight and your mind replaying tiny patients’ faces. Instead of heading straight for the bath like usual, you found yourself knocking on 5C after hearing Ellie’s soft giggles mixed with Jungkook’s low laughter drifting into the hallway. The door opened to warm light and the smell of something simple cooking—ramen with extra vegetables, probably.

Ellie spotted you first and ran over on unsteady legs, arms up. You scooped her up without thinking, left hand supporting her back as she tucked her face into your neck like it was the most natural place in the world.

Jungkook stood by the stove, wooden spoon in hand, watching the two of you with that soft, wondering look that had become more frequent lately. “Perfect timing. We were just about to eat. Stay?”

You did.

After dinner—Ellie proudly feeding her bear a single noodle—Jungkook put her to bed while you cleared the table. When he came back, the apartment felt quieter, the cloud night-light casting gentle shadows. He grabbed two glasses of your favorite green iced tea (he’d started keeping lemons just for you) and nodded toward the couch.

“Sit with me?” His voice was lower than usual, almost hesitant. “There’s… stuff I’ve been wanting to tell you. About the years since we lost touch. About how I ended up here. With her.”

You settled beside him, close enough that your knee brushed his. The calm version of you stayed steady, but your heart picked up pace. “Only if you want to. No pressure.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, tattoos shifting with the movement. For a moment he looked exactly like the shy twenty-year-old you once knew—eyes down, shoulders slightly rounded—before he straightened and met your gaze.

“We broke up… it was gentle. You went off for your scholarship, I was figuring out my own path. I thought we’d both just grow into different people and that was okay. But life didn’t stay simple.”

He took a slow breath, fingers tracing the rim of his glass.

“My brother—Seojun—and his wife Jiyoon… they were everything to me. They had Ellie when she was just a baby. I was there the day she was born. Held her when she was ten minutes old and she grabbed my finger like she already knew me. I became ‘Appa’s brother’ to her. The fun uncle who showed up with silly gifts and helped with night feeds when they needed a break.”

His voice caught for a second. You reached over and rested your left hand on his arm, quiet support. He covered it with his own without looking away.

“Fourteen months ago… there was an accident. Car crash on the highway. They didn’t make it. I got the call while I was in the middle of a work meeting. One minute I was reviewing code, the next I was Ellie’s only family. Their will was clear—they wanted me to raise her. No hesitation on paper. But in real life?”

He let out a shaky laugh that didn’t quite hide the pain. “I was terrified. Twenty-seven years old, single, running a small tech company from home, still figuring out how to be an adult myself. I spent the first week after the funeral sitting on the floor of their apartment with Ellie in my lap, both of us crying, and I didn’t know how to explain they weren’t coming back. I called lawyers. Looked into other options. Thought maybe my parents or a more stable family could do it better.”

You squeezed his arm gently. “That’s human, Jungkook. Anyone would doubt themselves.”

“Yeah… but I couldn’t do it. The second I tried to imagine handing her over, something in me broke. She was already mine in every way that mattered. From that first hospital day. From every time Seojun called me at 3 a.m. saying ‘Jungkook-ah, come meet your niece.’ I looked at her tiny face—those eyes that are exactly my brother’s—and I knew. I had to grow up right then. No more shy kid calculating risks from the sidelines, and I became her dad. Officially. Legally. Every single day since.”

He paused, voice dropping softer. “It changed me. I got the tattoos—some for Seojun and Jiyoon, some for Ellie, reminders that I can carry heavy things and still keep moving. I learned how to do night feeds, doctor visits, toddler tantrums. I read every parenting book I could find. But some days… I still feel like that shy teenager you knew. The one who got nervous holding your hand because he didn’t want to mess it up. When Ellie reaches for me and calls me Appa, part of me still panics that I’m not enough. That I’m faking this whole ‘strong dad’ thing.”

You turned toward him fully, your left hand sliding up to cup his cheek. The touch was gentle, paint still faintly under your nails from earlier that day. “You’re not faking it. I see you with her. The way you carry her when she’s tired, the way you notice every little thing she needs. That’s real maturity, Jungkook. Not perfect, but real. And the shy part? It’s still there because you’re still you. I like both versions.”

He leaned into your palm, eyes closing for a moment like the words were something he’d been waiting to hear. When he opened them again, they were brighter, more open.

“Meeting you again—right across the landing—felt like the universe giving me a second chance at something soft. I recognized you the first day you moved in. The way you hum when you’re unlocking your door, that left-handed grip on your bags. I didn’t say anything because I was scared. Scared I’d complicate your life with a ready-made family and all my baggage. But then Ellie got sick and you showed up at midnight like it was nothing. And every week since… you make it feel easy. Being a dad. Being around someone who sees the shy parts and the strong parts and doesn’t run.”

The air between you felt thicker now, charged with years and new honesty. Not the light, teenage love from before—this was heavier, deeper, two adults who had been shaped by loss and responsibility choosing each other anyway.

You smiled softly, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “You make it easy too, you know. Coming home to knocks and tea and a little girl who thinks I’m magic because I made her fever go away. I used to skip meals for baths or sleep, but lately I find myself looking forward to these moments more than the quiet ones alone.”

Ellie made a small sleep sound from her room, the monitor on the table crackling softly. Jungkook glanced toward it, then back at you, his hand still over yours.

“I’m not rushing anything,” he said quietly. “But I needed you to know the whole story. How I became her father. How I grew up overnight even though sometimes I still feel like that nervous kid who liked you too much to say it right the first time.”

You leaned in, resting your forehead against his for a brief moment. The touch was simple. Warm. Full of the mature kind of promise.

“Thank you for telling me,” you whispered. “I’m glad it was you across the landing. Both versions of you.”

The moment stretched, heavy with everything he had shared and everything still unspoken. Then his hand came up slowly, fingers sliding into your hair at the nape of your neck, careful, like he was asking permission with every touch.

“Can I…?” he whispered, voice rough and low, the shy teenager peeking through the strong man he had become.

You answered by closing the small distance.

The first kiss was soft. Tentative in the way only something truly wanted can be. His lips brushed yours once, testing, then pressed again with quiet certainty. There was no rush, no explosion of young passion like the hurried kisses you once shared at twenty and eighteen. This was slower, deeper—two people who had carried years of life pressing their mouths together like they were finally allowing themselves to breathe the same air again.

He tasted like green tea and something warmer underneath. His hand stayed gentle in your hair while the other found your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer on the couch. You melted into it, left hand sliding from his cheek to the back of his neck, fingers brushing the short hairs there. The kiss lingered, turning from sweet to something more intent, mouths moving in a rhythm that felt both brand new and achingly familiar.

When you finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, your foreheads touched again. His eyes were dark, lashes low, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the night you showed up for Ellie,” he admitted quietly. “Maybe since the day you moved in. But I kept telling myself not to complicate things.”

You let out a soft laugh, the crazy-happy spark flickering warmly in your chest. “You’re not complicating anything. You’re… making it feel right.”

He kissed you once more, quick and soft this time, like he couldn’t help himself, then settled back against the couch, keeping your hand in his. The silence was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need filling right away.

After a moment, you squeezed his fingers. “Since you told me your story… I should tell you mine. The parts after we lost touch. It wasn’t all smooth for me either.”

Jungkook turned toward you fully, giving you his complete attention the way he always did—focused, patient, like nothing else in the world mattered right now. “I want to hear it. All of it.”

You took a breath, staring at your joined hands. Your left thumb traced one of his tattoos absentmindedly.

“College… it broke me for a while. I thought leaving was the right decision. The scholarship felt like this big, bright future. But the program was brutal. I was eighteen, away from home, surrounded by people who seemed so much more prepared than me. The first two years I questioned everything. There were nights I cried in the dorm bathroom because I was convinced I had made the worst decision of my life. That I wasn’t smart enough, strong enough.”

You paused, the memories still sharp even years later. “Then came the surgical rotation. We had to work with real cadavers—cutting open actual flesh, seeing everything up close. I threw up after the first class. Actually threw up in the sink while the professor was still talking. I locked myself in a stall and thought, ‘This is it. I’m not made for medicine. I should quit and do something easier.’ I felt so weak. So unprepared for how heavy real life was going to be.”

Jungkook’s thumb stroked the back of your hand, steady and warm. He didn’t interrupt, just listened with those dark eyes that made you feel seen.

“But then… pediatrics happened. I got placed in the children’s ward during my third year. The first time I helped a young mother on the street—her baby was choking on something small, right outside the hospital. I ran over, did the maneuvers I’d only practiced on dummies, and the baby started breathing again. The mom hugged me so tight she was crying. That moment… it clicked. This was where I belonged. Helping the smallest patients, the ones who couldn’t speak for themselves yet.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as happier memories surfaced. “There was this one baby, maybe six months old, who had the tiniest toothless smile. I was having the worst day—another sleepless night, doubting everything again. I picked him up for a check-up and he just grinned at me with those gummy gums, like the sun had come out. That smile fixed something in me. I walked out of that room knowing I was on the right path again. Pediatrics wasn’t just a rotation. It became my home. The place where the hard parts felt worth it because the little wins were so pure.”

You looked up at him, voice softer. “So yeah… I had my breakdowns. The throwing up after surgery, the nights I wanted to quit. But I found my way back. Just like you did with Ellie. We both grew up the hard way, but we ended up here.”

Jungkook lifted your joined hands and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, right over the faint paint smudge that never quite washed away. “I’m proud of you. For staying when it was ugly. For finding the toothless smiles that kept you going.” His voice dropped, warm and certain. “And I’m really glad those paths brought you back across the landing from me.”

The kiss that followed was slower, deeper than the first. Less tentative, more sure. His hand cupped your jaw while yours rested against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was the kind of kiss that said “I see all of you, the hard parts and the soft ones, and I’m still here.”

When you pulled apart this time, you were both smiling, a little breathless, the crazy-happy spark in you dancing brighter.

Ellie’s monitor let out a small murmur. Jungkook glanced at it, then back at you with a quiet laugh. “She has perfect timing.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, the weight comfortable and right. “She really does.”

The night stretched on with more quiet talk and a few more soft kisses, the kind that felt like promises rather than endings. Outside, the city hummed its usual song. Inside 5C, two people who had once been young and uncertain were finding each other again—this time as the adults they had fought to become.

Jungkook started texting you in the mornings, short messages about Ellie’s latest discovery (a new word for “bird” or how she tried to feed her bear cereal). You replied with photos of your half-finished canvases or quick updates from your shift breaks. Just steady threads pulling you closer across the landing.

One Tuesday evening you came home to find him waiting outside your door with a small container of soup. “Ellie made me cook extra. She kept saying ‘for the nice lady.’” You invited him in. You ate together at your tiny table while music played softly in the background. He asked about the songs you loved lately; you asked about the tech projects that kept him working from home. Conversation wandered easily from silly childhood stories to the small frustrations of adult life. When he left, he brushed a soft kiss against your cheek at the door — nothing more, but it lingered.

The next weekend Ellie dragged both of you to the park again. She insisted on holding one of your hands and one of his, swinging between you like a tiny bridge. Jungkook caught your eye over her head and smiled — that slow, warm smile that made your stomach flip. Later, while Ellie chased leaves, the two of you sat on the bench talking about favorite movies from years ago. He remembered the ones you used to quote; you remembered how he used to hum along even when he didn’t know the words. When Ellie got tired, he carried her home on his shoulders and you walked beside them, the three of you moving like it was the most natural thing.

Some nights he knocked with whatever he had cooked that day, and you ended up on his couch watching whatever cartoon Ellie demanded before bed. She always crawled into your lap halfway through, falling asleep against your chest while Jungkook watched the two of you with quiet eyes. You started staying longer after she was tucked in — just talking, sharing small pieces of your days, letting kisses happen naturally when the moment felt right. Soft presses at first, then deeper ones that left you both a little breathless and smiling against each other’s mouths.

One rainy Thursday you had a rare afternoon off. Jungkook suggested a short walk to the nearby market because Ellie wanted “pretty fruits.” You went along, ending up carrying bags while he kept one arm loosely around your shoulders to shield you from the drizzle. At home you helped chop vegetables for dinner, shoulders brushing as you worked side by side in his kitchen. Ellie “helped” by stacking blocks on the floor and announcing each one’s name. When dinner was ready the three of you ate together like it had always been this way — easy laughter, Ellie stealing bites from your plate, Jungkook’s foot gently nudging yours under the table.

He began walking you to your door after evenings together, stealing one last kiss that tasted like the dessert you had shared. You started leaving small notes on his doorstep when your shifts ran late — silly drawings or reminders to rest. He replied with photos of Ellie’s latest artwork dedicated “to nice lady.”

One evening after putting Ellie to bed, you stayed on his couch longer than usual. The conversation turned quieter, more intimate. He told you about a tough work call that day; you shared a story about a little patient who had made you laugh until you cried. The space between you disappeared slowly until you were curled against his side, his arm around you, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder.

When he kissed you that night it felt different — slower, more intentional. His hands framed your face like you were something precious he was still learning how to hold. You kissed him back with the same care, exploring the way his breath hitched when you tugged gently at his hair, the way his body relaxed under your touch. There was heat building, but no rush. Just the steady discovery of each other again — the man he had become and the woman you were now.

Afterward you stayed tangled together on the couch, trading soft words and quieter kisses until the monitor crackled with Ellie’s sleepy murmur. He walked you across the landing with his hand in yours, pressing one final kiss to your forehead before you slipped inside your own apartment.

The next morning he sent a photo of Ellie holding up a drawing of three stick figures holding hands. The message simply read: She says this is us.

You smiled at your phone for a long minute, heart full in a way that felt brand new and deeply familiar at the same time.

You weren’t calling it dating. You weren’t labeling anything.

But every shared meal, every walk with Ellie between you, every kiss that grew longer and surer, every quiet night talking until the hours slipped away — it was building something real. Something steady. Something that made coming home feel like the best part of the day.

The call came on a quiet Wednesday afternoon when you were off shift and halfway through sketching a new canvas.

Jungkook’s voice on the phone sounded tight, the kind of controlled panic that only parents learn. “Hey… I’m really sorry to ask this, but my biggest client just moved our meeting up by three hours and it’s in-person downtown. My usual sitter is out sick and my mom can’t get here in time. Ellie’s been fine all morning but she’s still a little clingy. Would you… could you watch her for a couple of hours? I’ll be back before dinner.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Of course. Bring her over.”

Ten minutes later he appeared at your door with Ellie on his hip, a small backpack slung over his shoulder, and gratitude written all over his face. Ellie reached for you immediately, bear clutched in one fist.

“You sure this is okay?” he asked, setting the bag down. “I know it’s last minute.”

“It’s more than okay,” you said, taking Ellie from him. She settled against you like she belonged there, small head resting on your shoulder. “Go handle your meeting. We’ll be fine.”

He lingered for a second longer than necessary, eyes moving between you and his daughter. Then he leaned in, pressed a quick, soft kiss to your temple, and another to Ellie’s hair. “Thank you. Text me if anything comes up. I’ll hurry back.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and suddenly it was just you and Ellie in your apartment.

She wasn’t difficult. She was curious.

For the first hour she followed you around like a tiny shadow while you finished your sketch, pointing at colors and demanding names for each one. You let her sit on your lap at the table and “help” by handing you crayons, her serious little face concentrating hard on every movement. When she got bored of that, you pulled out paper and let her scribble her own pictures — mostly circles and wobbly lines she proudly declared were “birds and appa and you.”

Lunch was simple: chopped fruit and the yogurt she liked. She fed herself with surprising focus, occasionally offering a strawberry to you or her bear. Afterward you read her two books on the couch, doing all the voices until she giggled so hard she nearly fell off your lap.

Then came the part that undid you both a little.

Ellie started rubbing her eyes, the clinginess from earlier returning. Instead of fighting it, you carried her to the couch, wrapped her in the soft throw blanket you kept there, and hummed the same low tune you’d used the night of her fever. She curled into your side, bear tucked under her chin, one small hand fisting the front of your shirt like she was making sure you wouldn’t disappear.

You stayed there, stroking her back in slow circles, watching her lashes flutter and finally still as she drifted off. The apartment was quiet except for her soft breathing and the distant sound of rain starting again outside.

That was when Jungkook came back.

He let himself in with the spare key you’d given him the week before (just in case, you’d both said). You looked up from the couch and caught the exact moment his expression changed.

He stopped in the doorway, bag still in hand, eyes softening as he took in the scene: you on the couch with his daughter asleep against your chest, her tiny fist still curled in your shirt, your hand gently resting on her back. The half-finished drawings scattered on the table. The blanket you’d pulled over both of you. The way the afternoon light came through the window and painted everything golden and soft.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there watching, something raw and wondering crossing his face — like he was seeing a version of life he had quietly imagined in the hardest months after becoming Ellie’s dad, but never fully let himself believe could happen.

A life with someone who didn’t just help, but fit.

Someone who made the ordinary afternoons feel like they belonged to all three of you.

You offered him a small, gentle smile over Ellie’s head. He crossed the room quietly and knelt beside the couch, one hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from his daughter’s cheek. His fingers lingered, then moved to rest lightly over yours where they lay on Ellie’s back.

“She went down easy?” he whispered.

“After stories and strawberries,” you murmured back. “She drew you a bird. It’s on the table.”

He glanced at the drawings, then back at you. His eyes were bright, a little glassy at the edges. “You look good like this,” he said, voice so low it barely carried. “Holding her. Being here. It makes me think about… all the nights I stayed up wondering if I was doing this right. If she would ever have someone else who just… knew how to be with her like this.”

You turned your hand palm-up under his, lacing your fingers together. “She has you. And right now she has both of us. That’s enough.”

He leaned in and kissed you — slow, grateful, the kind of kiss that carried weeks of building closeness and the weight of everything he wasn’t saying yet. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, Ellie sleeping peacefully between you.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your lips. “For today. For all the days lately.”

You kissed him once more, softer this time, then glanced down at the little girl who had somehow become the center of everything.

“She’s out cold,” you said with a small smile. “Want to move her to the bed so we can sit properly?”

He nodded, carefully lifting Ellie into his arms. You followed him to your bedroom, watching as he laid her down and tucked the blanket around her with practiced care. When he straightened, he pulled you close again, arms wrapping around your waist, chin resting on top of your head.

Jungkook held you like he was afraid the moment might slip away if he let go. The wordless thing you had been building felt less like something happening to you and more like something you were both choosing — one shared afternoon, one sleepy toddler, one steady kiss at a time

The following Saturday afternoon found the three of you in Jungkook’s apartment again, the kind of lazy weekend where time moved slower.

Ellie had been playing on the living room floor with her blocks, building lopsided towers and knocking them down with delighted squeals. You were sitting cross-legged nearby, helping her stack the bright blue ones while Jungkook worked on his laptop at the table, occasionally glancing over with a soft smile. The rain from earlier had cleared, leaving golden light spilling through the windows.

When Ellie’s tower finally collapsed for the fifth time, she let out a dramatic little huff and toddled straight toward you instead of her father.

“Up,” she demanded, arms raised.

You opened your arms without thinking and lifted her onto your lap. She settled immediately, tiny hands grabbing fistfuls of your shirt like she was anchoring herself there. Her fingers twisted the fabric tight, refusing to loosen even when Jungkook stood up and walked over, crouching in front of you both with an amused grin.

“Hey, Ellie-ya,” he said gently, holding his own arms out. “Come to Appa? Let’s build another tower together.”

Ellie shook her head once, burying her face against your chest. Her grip on your shirt only tightened, small knuckles turning white. “No. Stay.”

Jungkook laughed softly, the sound warm and light, but you caught the way his eyes flickered — something deeper flashing across his face before he masked it with another chuckle. “Alright, guess she’s made her choice today.”

He sat down beside you on the floor instead, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. Ellie peeked out from your shirt just long enough to give him a triumphant little smile, then went right back to clutching you, her whole small body relaxing like this was exactly where she wanted to be.

You rubbed slow circles on her back, murmuring nonsense about the colors of the blocks. Ellie listened for a moment, then lifted her head, looked straight at you with those big dark eyes, and said clearly:

“Y/N.”

Your breath caught.

She had never used your name before — always “nice lady” or nothing at all. Now it came out simple and certain, like she had been practicing it in her head and decided it fit.

“Y/N,” she repeated, patting your chest with one hand while the other stayed firmly twisted in your shirt. “Stay.”

Jungkook went very still beside you. The laugh he let out this time was quieter, almost breathless. “Well… that’s new.”

You felt warmth bloom across your cheeks, but you didn’t pull away. Instead you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Ellie’s head. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m staying right here.”

From that moment something shifted inside you without you fully realizing it.

You started doing little things naturally, the way you had once imagined you might if you ever became a mother someday. Small adjustments you didn’t even notice you were making.

When Ellie got fussy later that evening, you instinctively rocked her in the exact rhythm that always calmed the babies at the hospital. You hummed the same soft tune while preparing her snack, cutting the fruit into the tiny pieces she liked best. You wiped her hands and face with the warm cloth Jungkook handed you, but you did it with the gentle thoroughness you used on your tiniest patients — careful, patient, full of quiet affection.

You didn’t think about it. It just felt right.

But Jungkook noticed everything.

He watched from the kitchen while you helped Ellie wash her hands at the sink, your body angled protectively so she wouldn’t slip. He saw the way you automatically checked her forehead with the back of your fingers when she yawned, the same way you’d done the night of her fever. He caught how you rearranged the cushions on the couch so she could lean against them comfortably while you read her a story, your voice soft and engaged like nothing else in the world mattered more than this moment.

Each small thing undid him in a way he hadn’t known was possible.

He had spent so long being the strong one — the one who had to figure everything out alone after the accident, the one who carried the weight of becoming a father overnight. He thought he had accepted that this was his life now: just him and Ellie against the world.

But seeing you slip so effortlessly into the role — not forcing it, not performing it, just being there with that natural care — hit him somewhere deep and tender he hadn’t let himself feel before. It wasn’t just attraction anymore. It was devotion, sudden and strong, the kind that made his chest ache in the best possible way.

Later, after Ellie had finally fallen asleep in her bed (still clutching the corner of the blanket you had tucked around her), Jungkook pulled you into the hallway just outside her room. He backed you gently against the wall, hands framing your face as he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion. “Watching you with her today… the way she reached for you first. The way she said your name like it was already hers. And then you just… you took care of her like you’ve been doing it forever.”

He kissed you then — deeper than usual, more intense, like he was pouring every unspoken feeling into it. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he needed to feel you there, solid and real.

When he pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours. “I’m falling so hard for you. Harder than I thought I could. You make this feel possible — all of it. Being her dad, being with someone, having this kind of life. I didn’t know I could want it this much until I saw you with her today.”

You smiled against his lips, fingers threading through his hair. “She chose me today. I think I’m choosing both of you right back.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, full of that new layer of devotion that made every touch feel heavier with meaning. His hands stayed on you like he couldn’t bear to let go, like he was already promising silently to hold onto this — onto you — with everything he had.

Jungkook was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching the two of you with that soft look that had become constant lately. “There’s a little parents’ event at Ellie’s daycare this Friday. It’s just a short show — the toddlers do a simple dance and sing a couple songs. Nothing fancy, but… she’s been practicing the moves every day. Would you come with us?”

Ellie immediately dropped her block and clapped her hands. “Y/N come! Dance with me!”

You laughed, heart doing a silly little flip at how naturally she said your name now. “I’d love to.”

The daycare parents’ event turned out to be a little bigger than Jungkook had first described.

“It’s not just the toddlers dancing,” he explained the night before while you were both sitting on his couch after Ellie went to bed. “There’s a small reception afterward with photos and snacks. A few parents dress up a bit — nothing crazy, but nicer than everyday clothes. I was thinking… maybe we could too? For Ellie.”

You agreed without overthinking it.

Friday afternoon you came straight from your shift and changed into something a step above your usual post-work comfort. A soft cream-colored blouse with delicate buttons, tucked into high-waisted dark jeans that made your legs look longer. You added a simple gold necklace and light makeup — just enough to feel put-together. When you stepped across the landing, Jungkook opened the door already dressed.

He looked good. Really good.

A charcoal button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled once to show a hint of his tattoos, paired with well-fitted black trousers and polished shoes. The shirt hugged his shoulders in a way that reminded you exactly how strong he had become over the years. His hair was styled neatly, a little effort put in, and he smelled faintly of the cologne he saved for important days.

Ellie was dressed in her favorite yellow sun shirt, but Jungkook had added a soft tulle skirt over her leggings and tiny white shoes that made her look like a proper little performer. She twirled the second she saw you, skirt flaring out.

“You both look nice,” you said, unable to hide your smile.

Jungkook’s eyes swept over you appreciatively. “So do you. Ready?”

The three of you arrived at the daycare looking every bit the picture of a young family. Jungkook carried Ellie on his hip at first, then set her down so she could walk between you, holding one of your hands and one of his. You had brought a small bag with extra wipes and a spare shirt for her, just in case. Jungkook had remembered her favorite snack and a water bottle.

The gymnasium was decorated with more balloons and fairy lights than last time. Parents were dressed up in their own versions of “nice but realistic” — button-downs, pretty blouses, dresses that weren’t too formal. No one was in a full suit or gown, but everyone had made an effort.

Ellie’s class performed again, the same adorable chaotic dance. She kept glancing at you and Jungkook in the front row, waving every time the music paused. When the song ended and the kids ran to their families, Ellie sprinted straight to you again.

This time she didn’t just reach for you — she launched herself.

You caught her, laughing as her tiny hands grabbed your blouse. The fabric wrinkled under her grip, but you didn’t care. She buried her face in your neck, legs wrapping around your waist.

A couple standing nearby smiled warmly.

“Oh, she’s so attached to her mom,” the woman said. “Look at that hug! You two must be so proud of how far she’s come since starting here.”

Jungkook didn’t miss a beat.

“We are,” he said smoothly, stepping closer so his arm could slide around your waist, hand resting just above where Ellie’s legs were wrapped. “She’s been practicing every single day at home. Couldn’t be prouder.”

You opened your mouth to gently correct the assumption, but Jungkook’s fingers gave a light squeeze on your side — a silent let it be. His touch was warm through your blouse, steady and reassuring.

The fluffy feeling hit you again, harder this time.

Oh my God. He just called us “we” like it’s the most natural thing.

This man — tattoos, strong shoulders, button-down that fits him way too well — is standing here in nice trousers, arm around me, while our… while Ellie clings to my blouse like I’m hers.

People are looking at us like we’re a real little family. Me. In my slightly-fancy blouse. Him looking like he stepped out of a responsible-dad catalog.

Jesus Christ, is this my life now? I went from throwing up after cadaver class to this?

Fluffy doesn’t even cover it. My chest feels like someone stuffed it with warm cotton and fairy lights. I might actually melt into the floor if he keeps his hand there.

You adjusted Ellie on your hip, pressing a kiss to her temple while your mind kept its ridiculous

The daycare parents’ event turned out to be a little bigger than Jungkook had first described.

“It’s not just the toddlers dancing,” he explained the night before while you were both sitting on his couch after Ellie went to bed. “There’s a small reception afterward with photos and snacks. A few parents dress up a bit — nothing crazy, but nicer than everyday clothes. I was thinking… maybe we could too? For Ellie.”

You agreed without overthinking it.

Friday afternoon you came straight from your shift and changed into something a step above your usual post-work comfort. A soft cream-colored blouse with delicate buttons, tucked into high-waisted dark jeans that made your legs look longer. You added a simple gold necklace and light makeup — just enough to feel put-together. When you stepped across the landing, Jungkook opened the door already dressed.

He looked good. Really good.

A charcoal button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled once to show a hint of his tattoos, paired with well-fitted black trousers and polished shoes. The shirt hugged his shoulders in a way that reminded you exactly how strong he had become over the years. His hair was styled neatly, a little effort put in, and he smelled faintly of the cologne he saved for important days.

Ellie was dressed in her favorite yellow sun shirt, but Jungkook had added a soft tulle skirt over her leggings and tiny white shoes that made her look like a proper little performer. She twirled the second she saw you, skirt flaring out.

“You both look nice,” you said, unable to hide your smile.

Jungkook’s eyes swept over you appreciatively. “So do you. Ready?”

The three of you arrived at the daycare looking every bit the picture of a young family. Jungkook carried Ellie on his hip at first, then set her down so she could walk between you, holding one of your hands and one of his. You had brought a small bag with extra wipes and a spare shirt for her, just in case. Jungkook had remembered her favorite snack and a water bottle.

The gymnasium was decorated with more balloons and fairy lights than last time. Parents were dressed up in their own versions of “nice but realistic” — button-downs, pretty blouses, dresses that weren’t too formal. No one was in a full suit or gown, but everyone had made an effort.

Ellie’s class performed again, the same adorable chaotic dance. She kept glancing at you and Jungkook in the front row, waving every time the music paused. When the song ended and the kids ran to their families, Ellie sprinted straight to you again.

This time she didn’t just reach for you — she launched herself.

You caught her, laughing as her tiny hands grabbed your blouse. The fabric wrinkled under her grip, but you didn’t care. She buried her face in your neck, legs wrapping around your waist.

A couple standing nearby smiled warmly.

“Oh, she’s so attached to her mom,” the woman said. “Look at that hug! You two must be so proud of how far she’s come since starting here.”

Jungkook didn’t miss a beat.

“We are,” he said smoothly, stepping closer so his arm could slide around your waist, hand resting just above where Ellie’s legs were wrapped. “She’s been practicing every single day at home. Couldn’t be prouder.”

You opened your mouth to gently correct the assumption, but Jungkook’s fingers gave a light squeeze on your side — a silent let it be. His touch was warm through your blouse, steady and reassuring.

The fluffy feeling hit you again, harder this time.

Oh my God. He just called us “we” like it’s the most natural thing.

This man — tattoos, strong shoulders, button-down that fits him way too well — is standing here in nice trousers, arm around me, while our… while Ellie clings to my blouse like I’m hers.

People are looking at us like we’re a real little family. Me. In my slightly-fancy blouse. Him looking like he stepped out of a responsible-dad catalog.

Jesus Christ, is this my life now? I went from throwing up after cadaver class to this?

Fluffy doesn’t even cover it. My chest feels like someone stuffed it with warm cotton and fairy lights. I might actually melt into the floor if he keeps his hand there.

You adjusted Ellie on your hip, pressing a kiss to her temple while your mind kept its ridiculous, monologue running..

Okay, brain, breathe. You’re a pediatric doctor. You’ve handled actual emergencies. You can handle being mistaken for a mom while wearing a blouse that cost more than your usual scrubs.

But look at him. Sleeves rolled just enough to show some ink. Standing there like he belongs in this picture. Like he wants people to think we’re together. Like he wants me here as more than just the nice neighbor.

This is dangerous. This is the kind of dangerous that makes me want to keep wearing blouses and showing up to toddler dance shows forever.

The reception continued with snacks and group photos. Several more parents stopped to compliment Ellie’s performance and casually referred to you as her mother. Each time, Jungkook simply smiled and thanked them, never correcting, his arm staying around you like it was the most normal place in the world.

You felt yourself leaning into him more as the afternoon went on. Ellie refused to be put down, content to stay in your arms while she nibbled on a cookie, occasionally offering you a piece with her sticky fingers.

When it was time for the official parent photo, the teacher waved the three of you over. Jungkook positioned himself behind you, one hand on your waist, the other steadying Ellie on your hip. The camera clicked.

You looked every bit the real parents — him in his charcoal shirt, you in your cream blouse, Ellie bright and happy between you.

On the drive home, Ellie fell asleep in her car seat, exhausted from all the excitement. Jungkook reached over and took your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“You looked beautiful today,” he said quietly. “Holding her like that. Standing there with us.”

You squeezed his hand, the fluffy warmth still swirling in your chest. “You looked pretty good yourself. All dressed up like a proper dad.”

He laughed softly, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Felt good. Having you there. Having people see us like that.”

You didn’t say anything else for a moment, just let the quiet settle. Your internal voice was still chattering happily in the background.

This man just let an entire room of parents think I’m Ellie’s mom and he didn’t blink. He wanted it. He’s holding my hand like he never wants to let go.

If someone told eighteen-year-old me that one day I’d be dressed up in a blouse, carrying a toddler who calls me by name, while her ridiculously attractive father looks at me like I’m the missing piece… I would have laughed until I cried.

But here we are.

Back at the building, you carried a sleepy Ellie up the stairs while Jungkook held the doors. She stirred just enough to mumble “Y/N pretty” before tucking her face into your neck again.

Jungkook watched the whole thing with that look that had grown even stronger since— like every time he saw you with her, something inside him clicked more firmly into place, he closed the bedroom door with a gentle click and turned to you. The golden light from the small lamp made everything feel softer, warmer. His eyes moved over you slowly — the cream blouse you’d worn for the daycare event, now slightly wrinkled from Ellie’s hands, the way your hair had loosened throughout the day. He stepped closer, hands coming up to frame your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he whispered, thumb brushing your lower lip. “Not just tonight. Every time I saw you with her. Every time you stayed a little longer. Every time you looked at me like I still matter.”

You leaned into his touch, heart beating steady and heavy. “You do matter. You always did.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep, like he was savoring every second after years of being apart. His lips moved against yours with quiet certainty, tongue tracing the seam of your mouth until you opened for him. The kiss tasted like the punch from the reception and something sweeter underneath — like coming home after a long time away.

Your hands slid up his chest, fingers working open the buttons of his charcoal shirt one by one. When the fabric parted you pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Your palms explored the warm skin beneath, tracing the lines of muscle he’d built over the years, the tattoos that told stories you were only beginning to learn. He shivered under your touch but didn’t hurry you.

Jungkook took his time undressing you too. He unbuttoned your blouse slowly, kissing every new inch of skin he revealed — your collarbone, the swell of your breasts above your bra, the soft skin of your stomach. When he reached the waistband of your jeans he knelt, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your hip as he slid the denim down your legs. Your bra and panties followed with the same patient care, until you stood completely bare in front of him.

He rose to his feet and looked at you for a long moment, eyes dark with want but full of something deeper. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “Even more than I remembered.”

He guided you back onto the bed, laying you down gently against the pillows. His body covered yours, warm and solid, but he kept most of his weight on his forearms so he could look at your face. The kiss that followed was slower, more sensual — tongues sliding together, lips pulling and sucking softly. His hand roamed your body with reverence, cupping your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it tightened under his touch. You arched into him, a quiet moan slipping out.

Jungkook kissed down your neck, taking his time at the sensitive spot just below your ear that made your breath hitch. He moved lower, mouth closing around one nipple while his hand teased the other. The wet heat of his tongue, the gentle scrape of his teeth — it sent slow waves of pleasure through you, building steadily rather than rushing.

When he finally settled between your thighs, he looked up at you with dark, devoted eyes. “Let me taste you.”

He licked a long, slow stripe up your center, savoring you like he had all the time in the world. His tongue circled your clit with deliberate pressure, then flattened to lick broad strokes that had your hips rolling against his mouth. Two fingers slid inside you easily, curling gently to find that perfect spot while his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked softly.

You gasped his name, fingers threading through his hair. The pleasure built gradually, deep and rolling, until it crested in a long, shuddering orgasm that left you trembling beneath him. He stayed with you through every wave, licking you gently until you were oversensitive and breathing hard.

Jungkook kissed his way back up your body, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he reached your mouth. “I missed this,” he whispered against your lips. “Missed feeling you like this. Missed making you feel good.”

You reached between you, wrapping your hand around his cock. He was hard and thick, pulsing in your palm as you stroked him slowly. He groaned low in his throat, hips pushing into your touch.

“Condom?” you asked softly.

He nodded, reaching into the nightstand. You watched him roll it on with steady hands, then pulled him back down. He settled between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging your entrance.

“Look at me,” he said gently.

Your eyes met his as he pushed in — slow, sure, inch by inch. The stretch was perfect, filling you completely until he was buried to the hilt. He stayed still for a long moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing the same air.

“God… you feel like home,” he whispered.

Then he started moving — deep, unhurried thrusts that rocked you both together. Every stroke was deliberate, sensual, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm that built the pleasure gradually. You wrapped your legs around him, hands sliding over his back, feeling the muscles shift under your palms with every thrust.

He kissed you through it all — soft, romantic kisses that turned dirtier as the heat grew. “You’re so tight,” he murmured against your mouth. “Taking me so well. Been dreaming about being inside you again… just like this.”

His pace stayed steady but grew a little firmer, the angle shifting until he was hitting that spot deep inside you with every thrust. One hand slipped between your bodies, fingers circling your clit in slow, perfect strokes.

You moaned softly, nails digging into his shoulders. “Jungkook… feels so good…”

“I know, baby,” he breathed, voice rough with restraint. “I’ve got you. Let it build. I want to feel you come around me.”

The orgasm rose slowly this time — a deep, rolling wave that started in your core and spread outward until your whole body was trembling. You came with a quiet, broken cry, clenching tight around him. Jungkook groaned your name, hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge, burying himself deep while he pulsed inside the condom.

He stayed inside you for a long moment afterward, kissing you softly — your lips, your cheeks, your closed eyelids. When he finally pulled out he took care of the condom quickly, then returned to pull you into his arms.

You curled against his chest, one leg draped over his, his hand stroking slow patterns along your spine. The room was quiet, warm, filled with the sound of your slowing breaths.

“I love this,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Being with you like this. Slow. Real. After all this time.”

You smiled against his skin, heart full and steady. “Me too.”

He held you closer, the devotion in every touch even stronger now. In the quiet of his bedroom, with Ellie sleeping peacefully down the hall, the two of you lay tangled together — skin warm, hearts closer than they had been in years.

The first light of morning filtered softly through the curtains when Ellie woke up.

You felt it before you heard anything — a small shift in the air, the faint sound of tiny feet padding down the hallway. Jungkook was still asleep beside you, one arm draped heavily over your waist, his breathing deep and even. Your bodies were tangled under the sheets, skin warm from the night before. The memory of slow kisses, deep thrusts, and whispered words made heat bloom low in your belly even now.

Then came the soft creak of the bedroom door.

Ellie stood in the doorway in her yellow sun pajamas, hair messy from sleep, bear clutched under one arm. She rubbed her eyes with her fist, blinking at the sight of you both in bed together.

For a second she just stared, processing. Then her face lit up with the biggest, sleepiest smile you had ever seen.

“Y/N,” she said happily, voice still raspy from sleep. She didn’t hesitate — she toddled straight to the bed and climbed up with surprising determination, using the edge of the mattress to pull herself onto it. Her small body wriggled between the two of you, bear squished against your chest as she settled in like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Jungkook stirred awake at the movement, eyes blinking open. When he registered Ellie curled up between you, one tiny hand fisting the front of your shirt (the same one from yesterday, now completely wrinkled and discarded on the floor last night — you were wearing one of his t-shirts now), a slow, warm smile spread across his face.

“Morning, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. He reached over to brush her hair back, but his eyes stayed on you the whole time, full of that quiet devotion that had only grown stronger after last night.

Ellie snuggled closer to you, pressing her face into your neck. “Y/N stay. Warm.”

You laughed softly, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The fluffy feeling from the daycare event returned tenfold, mixed with the intimate glow of the night you’d shared with Jungkook. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

Jungkook shifted closer, his hand finding yours under the blanket while Ellie wiggled happily between you. The three of you lay there for a long moment — warm, sleepy, tangled together in the soft morning light. His thumb stroked the back of your hand in slow circles, the same gentle rhythm he’d used on your skin last night when he was moving inside you, slow and deep and sure.

Ellie sighed contentedly, her small fingers still gripping your shirt. “Appa. Y/N. Bed.”

Jungkook chuckled quietly, leaning over Ellie to press a soft kiss to your lips — quick and sweet, but full of promise. “Yeah,” he whispered against your mouth. “This feels right.”

You felt your heart swell in that ridiculous, human way again.

Oh my God. I just spent the night with him— and now his daughter is cuddling between us like she planned this all along. She literally climbed into bed and claimed her spot. I’m wearing his t-shirt. He’s looking at me like last night meant everything. And I… I don’t want to leave this bed.

This is so domestic it should be illegal. I went from neighbor to… whatever this is… in what feels like five minutes and a thousand years at the same time.

Ellie lifted her head, looking between the two of you with those big, serious eyes. “Breakfast?”

Jungkook smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before sitting up. “Yeah, let’s make breakfast. Pancakes?”

Ellie nodded enthusiastically and tried to climb over you to get to him, but ended up flopping back down with her head on your chest instead. She patted your shirt once, content. “Y/N help.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Of course I’ll help.”

The three of you eventually made it to the kitchen — Ellie on Jungkook’s hip at first, then demanding to be carried by you while he started mixing the batter. She “helped” by handing you the spoon with both hands, her bear sitting on the counter watching everything with solemn dignity.

Jungkook kept stealing glances at you the whole time — soft, heated looks that reminded you exactly how his hands had felt on your body last night, how his voice had sounded when he groaned your name. Every time your eyes met, the corner of his mouth would lift in that private smile meant only for you.

Breakfast was messy and perfect. Ellie sat in your lap at the table, eating tiny pieces of pancake you cut for her while occasionally feeding some to her bear. Jungkook’s foot nudged yours under the table, a silent reminder of the night you’d shared.

When Ellie finished and started getting sleepy again (toddler crashes after big days were real), Jungkook took her to the living room for some quiet cartoons. You followed, and the three of you ended up on the couch — Ellie curled in your lap, Jungkook’s arm around both of you.

He leaned in close while Ellie was distracted by the screen, lips brushing your ear. “Last night was… everything,” he whispered. “Slow. Real. You and me, finally getting it right.”

You turned your head just enough to kiss him softly, careful not to disturb Ellie. “It was perfect.”

The morning continued like that — calm, warm, domestic in the best way. No rush to define anything. Just the three of you existing together, the memory of slow, sensual lovemaking from the night before lingering in every shared glance and gentle touch.

You stepped out of the hospital doors feeling that familiar post-work haze — the kind where your body wanted a long bath and your mind wanted to replay every small moment from last night and this morning. Jungkook had texted earlier that he would pick you up in his car so you didn’t have to take the bus. Ellie was with his mom for a few hours, giving the two of you a rare pocket of just-adult time.

You smiled at the thought as you walked toward the usual pickup spot near the side entrance. The cream blouse from yesterday was back in your bag; today you were in simple scrubs again, hair pulled up, but the memory of his hands on your skin still lingered like a secret.

Then you saw him.

Not Jungkook.

Yeonjun.

He was leaning against a car a few spaces away, hands in his pockets, looking exactly the same as the last time you’d seen him — warm eyes, easy smile, the kind of steady presence that had once felt safe. He straightened when he spotted you, lifting a hand in a small wave.

“Y/N,” he called, voice gentle. “Hey. I was hoping I’d catch you before you left.”

You stopped a few feet away, surprised but not upset. “Yeonjun… what are you doing here?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the same nervous habit from years ago. “I’ve been back in Seoul for a couple of weeks. Work brought me here. I heard from a mutual friend that you moved into a new place, started at this hospital. I just… wanted to see how you’re doing. Maybe grab coffee? Talk?”

The words were soft, no pressure on the surface, but you could hear the undercurrent. The same one he’d had when he texted last month. He wasn’t aggressive. He never had been. That was the problem — he was kind. The breakup two years ago had been quiet, mutual, born from clashing schedules and two people who cared but couldn’t make the timing work. No fights. No betrayal. Just life pulling in opposite directions.

You opened your mouth to answer, but your brain was already spinning its own quiet monologue.

Oh… this is awkward in the softest way possible. He looks good. Still the same gentle guy who used to bring me soup when I pulled double shifts. But my chest doesn’t do that little flip anymore. It feels… nostalgic. Like looking at a photo from a chapter I already finished reading.

Last night I was in Jungkook’s bed, his voice in my ear calling me beautiful while he moved inside me like we had all the time in the world. This morning his daughter climbed between us and called my name like it belonged to her. And now here’s Yeonjun, standing here like he’s offering me a door back to something simpler.

God, why does life do this? Throw the past right in front of the present when everything finally feels like it’s clicking?

Before you could find the right words, a familiar black car pulled up to the curb. Jungkook.

He parked smoothly, engine still humming, and stepped out. The moment his eyes landed on Yeonjun standing there with you, something shifted in his expression — a flicker of recognition, then quiet tension. He knew exactly who this was. Old mutual friends had kept him updated over the years; he’d heard the story of the gentle breakup, the busy schedules, the fact that Yeonjun had never been the villain.

Jungkook walked over anyway, calm on the outside, but you could see the way his jaw tightened just a fraction.

“Hey,” he said, voice even as he reached you. His hand found the small of your back naturally, warm and steady. “Ready to go?”

Yeonjun’s eyes moved between the two of you, taking in the easy touch, the way Jungkook positioned himself beside you like it was the most natural place in the world. He smiled, small and genuine. “Jungkook, right? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answered, polite but short. “It has.”

You felt the air thicken for a second, just heavy with history and the unspoken. Yeonjun glanced at you one more time. “If you ever want that coffee… no pressure. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

He gave a small nod to both of you and walked back to his car.

The drive home was quiet at first. Ellie wasn’t in the backseat today, so it was just the two of you. Jungkook’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, but you could feel the thoughts turning in his head.

You reached over and rested your hand on his thigh. “He was just saying hi. It’s nothing.”

“I know,” he said softly. Then, after a long breath, he kept talking — more to himself than to you, voice low and truthful, like he needed to get the words out while they were still honest.

“I don’t blame him for wanting you back. I really don’t. He’s actually a nice guy… always was. From what I heard through friends back then, you two ended things clean. Just life and schedules getting in the way. He probably looks at you now and sees the same girl he fell for — smart, kind, the one who makes everything feel steady. And he’s right. You are a keeper. The kind of person someone would be stupid to let slip away twice.”

He glanced at you for a second, eyes soft but serious, before looking back at the road.

“But I’m sorry, brother… I know she’s a keeper. I let her go once — back when we were young and didn’t know how to fight for the soft things. I watched her walk away because I thought we’d both be fine on our own. I won’t make that same mistake again. Not now. Not when I’ve seen what it looks like to have her in my bed, whispering my name like it still fits. Not when I’ve watched her hold my daughter like she was always meant to be there. Not when Ellie climbs into bed between us and says Y/N’s name like it’s already hers.”

He let out a quiet, almost self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head.

“I’m not mad at him. I get it. I’d fight for you too if I were in his shoes. But you are here now. With me. With us. And I’m not letting go this time. Not for anything.”

The car filled with a comfortable quiet after that. You squeezed his thigh gently, heart full in a way that felt both new and deeply rooted.

You didn’t need to say anything right away. The words he’d spoken hung between you like a promise

When he parked in front of the building, he turned to you, leaning across the console to kiss you slow and sure, the same unhurried way he had last night.

“Home?” he asked against your lips.

You smiled, fingers brushing his jaw. “Home.”

And as you walked inside together, the past fading behind you like the afternoon light, you felt it settle even deeper — this life that was quietly, steadily becoming yours.

Ellie had come home from her grandmother’s full of stories and sleepy hugs, eaten her dinner, and gone down without a fight. Jungkook had tucked her in while you cleaned the kitchen, the two of you moving around each other with the easy familiarity that had grown so quickly. After she was asleep he pulled you into his room, kissed you slow and deep like he was still tasting the morning, and fell asleep with his arm around your waist and his face tucked against your neck.

You couldn’t sleep.

Not because anything felt wrong — the opposite. Everything felt so right that your mind wouldn’t stop turning.

You lay there in the dark, staring at the faint glow of the cloud night-light that spilled in from the hallway, and let yourself think about Yeonjun for the first time since the hospital parking lot.

What if I had said yes to coffee?

The question floated up quietly, not with longing, but with honest curiosity.

You tried to picture it — going back to the version of life you had with him two years ago. The comfortable routines. The gentle good mornings. The way he always planned dates around things he thought you’d like: nice cafés with perfect lattes, quiet dinners where the conversation never got too heavy. He was steady. Kind. The kind of man who remembered your favorite playlists and never raised his voice.

But the more you let the pictures form, the more they felt… off.

He always asked to take me for coffee. Every single time. “Let’s get coffee and talk,” like that was the answer to everything. I don’t even like coffee. I told him that once and he laughed and said he’d get me tea instead, but he never stopped suggesting coffee first. Like it was the default setting for us.

You turned your head slightly, looking at Jungkook’s sleeping face — the strong line of his jaw, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks, the small scar on his eyebrow you’d traced with your fingertip last night while he moved inside you slow and sure.

With Yeonjun everything was… easy. Too easy. The kind of easy that feels like friendship wearing love’s clothes. We never fought, never burned, never stayed up talking until the sun came up because we couldn’t stop. It was comfortable. Safe. But safe in the way a favorite sweater is safe — warm, familiar, but you don’t miss it when it’s in the drawer.

He was different from Jungkook in every way that matters. Jungkook sees me. Really sees me. The way I hum when I’m tired, the way I cut fruit into tiny pieces without thinking, the way I need slow mornings and extra lemon in my tea and someone who understands why I sometimes skip dinner just to paint or sleep. Yeonjun never noticed those things. He tried, but it never quite landed. Like we were speaking two different quiet languages.

You exhaled softly, careful not to wake the man beside you.

I don’t even know how we dated, looking back. It just… happened. Schedules lined up for a while, we liked the same movies, the sex was fine. But it never felt like this. Never felt like my whole chest lights up when he walks into a room. Never felt like I’m choosing him every single day, even when life gets heavy. Never felt like a toddler climbing into bed between us and saying my name like it belongs to her.

The comparison settled in your bones, clear and calm.

Yeonjun is a good person. A friend. Someone I genuinely hope finds someone who loves coffee and gentle routines the way he does. But he’s not for me. Not anymore. Maybe he never really was. It was easy in the way friendship is easy — no sparks, no ache, no fear of losing something because you never risked enough to have it.

You turned onto your side, facing Jungkook fully. In the low light his tattoos looked softer, his shoulders broader, the arm around you heavy with sleep and devotion.

This… this is the kind of easy that scares me because it matters. Slow mornings. Ellie reaching for me first. Him letting the whole world think I’m her mom and not correcting them. Slow, deep nights where he takes his time like he’s learning me all over again after years apart. This is the kind of easy that feels like love, not like settling.

You pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart, and felt him stir just enough to pull you closer in his sleep.

Sorry, Yeonjun. You’re a nice guy. But I’m not going back to easy-that-doesn’t-feel-like-love.

A month ago, there was never a doubt about whether Jeon Jungkook would be at a party. He seemed to be the party itself, everywhere all at once, doing everything with everyone, just good vibes all around.

It was where he had met you after all.

When you, the newcomer, had suddenly taken his crown of ping-pong king, he had been enthralled. You'd come out of nowhere and sunk every ball into  Jungkook's cups while only conceding one drink yourself.

Who was this girl, in a navy sweater three sizes too big, who beat him and everybody else brave enough to face her in all of the party games?

The rest of the night, he had subconsciously kept you in his peripheral, fascinated by you and watching your every move even when he was occupied with other people.

When he had seen you shotgun a beer with a kind of grace one shouldn't possess when doing so, he almost fell to his knees.

He prayed to everything he believed in that you would stay longer when people were starting to

trickle out, and imagine the smile on his face when you planted yourself on the couch right across from him.

With the only people left at the party started settling on the two couches on the back patio, it was natural that the cliche games came out.

First it was never-have-I-ever, where Jungkook had learnt you'd never been eaten out, a crime punishable by death in his eyes, but you have had a threesome before, with who he hopes he never finds out.

By the time the game changed to 7 minutes in heaven, some people were past the brink of drunkenness, yet you seemed only a little tipsy.

After Tae and the girl who Jungkook assumed was your friend were the first to be paired off, Jungkook stared down the green bottle in his hand, praying it's mouth would point at the girl he had been captivated by all night.

Everyone watched intently as the bottle spun, yet Jungkook was watching you. You who bit your lip in anticipation as it spun antagonisingly long. You whose eyes snapped up to Jungkook when it finally landed on yourself. You who only smiled before standing, leaving Jungkook to follow you into the house hurriedly like a lost puppy.

Despite the aura you radiated all night, and the confidence you had carried yourself with during the games and while walking in here, Jungkook eyed the slight twitching of your fingers.

You were nervous.

That little fact did something to him that he couldn't explain, and suddenly he was clueless on what to do.

You found a closet in one of the bedrooms and closed yourselves in. The darkness made you clumsy, and you jumped when you accidentally brush Jungkook's thigh as you moved yourself to lean on the back wall.

You felt Jungkook do the same, feeling his warmth excruciatingly close to your side.

He knew neither of you were inexperienced, yet Jungkook suddenly felt like a virgin being in the presence of a pretty girl.

"Uh, we don't have to-"

He'd only just uttered the words out when you slid into his lap, legs on either side of his thighs, your warmth and sweet smell now all up in Jungkook's space.

He couldn't find it in himself to complain.

"You want this?" you had asked, using the alcohol in your veins to fuel your courage.

"Yes. So bad."

Jungkook said the words almost painfully and you found yourself giggling.

He was about to ask if he could kiss you when you literally crashed your lips onto his. You had underestimated how close you already were in the dark, and when you'd surged forward to kiss him, you'd found him much earlier than anticipated, your foreheads banging together.

"Fuck. Sorry."

Jungkook only laughed, settling his hands on your waist before, carefully, finding your lips again.

The groan that left you had Jungkook impossibly hard, though he suspected he had already been the second you planted your warm thighs on his lap.

Your soft hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss, and when your tongue fought against his, it was Jungkook's turn to groan.

Unfortunately for the two of you, your time had run out before you got past making out, interrupted by Namjoon opening the closet door with a blaring flashlight in hand.

Both you and Jungkook were still fully dressed, yet he had brought you against his chest to protect you, a sudden new instinct of his. You'd smiled into his neck, inhaling his scent and wishing you never had to leave his arms.

Though Jungkook had practically begged for your number and the chance to take you out, little had he known, you would've given him your number without much hesitation.

That first night had bloomed something new and exciting and you couldn't get enough of each other.

Jungkook lived and breathed you, and he bore the title of 'certified YN bottom' proudly.

He was utterly and absolutely whipped for you.

As fate would have it, you actually shared two classes and upon learning that fact, Jungkook made sure to walk with you to your lectures and linger when they ended so he could walk you to your next.

He took you to lunch whenever he could, and came over for movie nights on weekends. His favourite thing to do, other

Everything had been going smoothly. Almost too smoothly.

At another party like the rest, one you'd come to with Jungkook himself, your heart had sunk to your stomach when you'd walked into the kitchen, looking for a beer and the man you were starting to care about too much for your sanity, just to see him with another girls lips pressed against his own.

They pulled apart at the gasp of shock you let out, and when Jungkook saw you standing in the doorway, betrayal all over your face, he'd frozen. The girl who had just kissed him only smirked, venom in her smile as she looked at you while trailing a manicured hand over Jungkook's chest before leaving.

The silence in the kitchen was louder than the

music blaring in the room next door as the two of you stared at each other. You were waiting, begging, for him to explain, to tell you it wasn't what it looked like, that it was a misunderstanding.

Yet Jungkook stayed silent.

He didn't mean to. The words were right there, and he knew you would understand, because he knew your character. And still, his mouth wouldn't open.

With any other girl, this wouldn't have been a problem. Jungkook had never been exclusive with anyone, so he could kiss whoever he wanted, even if it made him seem like an asshole.

Except you weren't any other girl. You were the closest thing to exclusive that Jungkook had ever had, and it threw him in the deep end to see the look in your eyes.

It made him realise how serious the two of you had been getting, not that he was opposed to it, but it had spooked him. How much you were starting to take up space in his life.

And he had screwed it up. Not only that, but he let you think that he had kissed that girl voluntarily by not explaining straight away.

It was only when you turned on your heel and bolted for the door that Jungkook snapped out of his stupor. He followed you, calling your name, only to be ignored as you pushed past sweaty bodies to the front door.

When a tipsy stranger knocked into you, Jungkook levelled them with a glare and reached a hand out to steady you.

You flinched from his touch as if he had burned you and Jungkook felt a fracture in his heart.

You rushed down the front steps of the house, uncaring that it was the middle of the night, ready to run home and collapse onto your bed cursing yourself for being so stupid.

When the front door opened behind you, you turned, ready to yell at the man who had played with your heart, only to find his friend instead.

"I'll take you home," Namjoon said nodding to over to his car. He didn't mention anything, but given that he was there instead of Jungkook, you figured he knew why you needed the ride home.

The ride back to your dorm was quiet and you stare out into the darkness and think about what a mistake it was to get involved with someone like Jungkook. You'd known that first night the kind of man he was, yet you'd stupidly allowed yourself to get close.

To fall for his smiles and the way he comes over and brings you food while you study. To fall for his jokes and the way he strokes your back when you fall asleep together. To fall for him.

Jungkook's texts had remained unanswered since that night, and when he'd seen you in class, a hopeful smile on his face as he willed you to look in his direction, you wouldn't even give him the time of day.

You'd stopped going to parties, and unbeknownst to you, Jungkook had as well.

Nothing seemed worth doing if you weren't there to laugh at him when he did something stupid or to kiss him silly just for the sake of it. His friends had never seen him so affected by something, let alone a girl, and to say they were concerned would be an understatement.

It was killing him inside, and unbeknownst to Jungkook, it was killing you as well.

You'd vowed to stay away from parties since your falling out with Jungkook, but after much begging and persuasion from your friends, you find yourself at the end of semester get together

You try to enjoy it for the sake of your friends, but everything reminds you of that first night with Jungkook.

The beer pong in the garden, the couches on the patio, the godforsaken closet upstairs.

Since it was the end of the semester, the party is one of the most crowded ones you've been to. Faces seem to blur together in the dim distance, yet one makes it out clear as day.

Jeon Jungkook is here.

He hasn't seen you yet, and you hope he doesn't.

You tell yourself you want nothing to do with him, his lies or his deceit.

But why does your chest hurt seeing him without his usual smile? Why do you frown seeing him turn down drinks and offers to play games from his friends? Why does it affect you so much seeing him on the couch across the garden, mirroring your gloomy mood.

You're both miserable.

You should want him to be, right? Maybe you should go and find another handsome man to dance with, get back at him and make him think you've moved on. You want him to suffer like you have... but you also want to give him a hug. You want to slap him in the face for hurting you and kiss it better afterward. You want to throw eggs at his house but you also want to sleep in on weekends with him.

Truth was, you missed him. Missed the way he made you feel and the person you were becoming because of him. Not to mention the wicked way he used his tongue and hands.

At the dirty thoughts that suddenly bombard your mind, you take another swig of your beer.

Not wanting to risk being seen by Jungkook, you enter the house, hoping to find a bathroom to hide in until you can beg your friends to go home. Unluckily for you, the line for the bathroom downstairs is about 8 people long and you don't even want to try the bathroom upstairs, if the sounds coming from behind the door are enough are any give-away.

You wander around the house looking for somewhere to hide hang around, but the living room is too crowded with people dancing, and kitchen is too cramped to not look like a creep lingering.

"There you are, YN! Come on, we're playing games outside."

You'd just accepted defeat and made your way back outside when your friend, Jihyo, had ambushed you. Beer in one hand, she uses the other to drag you over to the couches where the rest of your friends and a group of guys you know all too well have gathered.

"Here she is! Found her," Jihyo exclaims once you've neared, letting go of your hand to go and sit by Taehyung, who puts a casual arm around her shoulders.

Jungkook looks up then and when your gazes clash, you feel a pang in your chest. He looks shocked to see you here, though before either of you can exchange what you assume will be the most awkward greeting in history, Jimin kicks off the games.

In a twenty minute game of two-truths-and-a-lie, you learn that Jungkook has never been in a long term relationship but he does want two kids in the future one day.

You can tell that Jungkook isn't really present in the games, giving answers when he has to, but pretty detached otherwise.

It's only when a bottle is brought out that the unspoken tension seems to heighten. When it's Jungkook's turn to spin, you pray to everything it doesn't land on you. Yet, the thought of him going into a closet with another girl is somehow worse.

You almost laugh when the bottle lands on you, the sick twisted irony of it all. Eyes look every which way, yet you don't say anything as you stand, heading inside the house.

You'd rather get it over and done with than make a big deal out of it. You're not sure if Jungkook is even following you until you're up the stairs and he mumbles something about a free bedroom down the hall.

When the closet door submerges you in darkness, you finally take notice of your pounding heartbeat. You will yourself to get a grip, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"We can just sit here until it's over," Jungkook says from somewhere to your left.

"Sounds great."

Your hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but you don't tell him that.

The silence is suffocating, knowing he's here somewhere in the dark, yet neither of you are speaking.

"I know it's too late now, but I'm sorry."

You almost think you've imagined the words before Jungkook speaks again.

"When that girl kissed me... I wanted to throw up because she wasn't you, and even though we weren't together I was already yours in every way it counted."

Your heart is pounding in your chest again as he continues.

"When I saw you in the doorway, I knew I'd ruined everything, and you would never see me as anything more than a fuck-boy anymore... I could have explained right then and there, to save you the hurt, but I couldn't open my fucking mouth. The first girl I'm falling in love with and I ruined it before we even got to start."

Jungkook isn't sure what compelled him to spew his feelings out in one go, perhaps it's the safety of the darkness, or he felt that it was time for the explanation you deserved weeks ago, but he feels a weight off his chest now that it's out in the open.

When you don't say anything for a while, he thinks that you're past the brink of hatred toward him.

"You said falling, not fell..." you murmur out loud.

"As in you still are?" It's a stupid question, obviously he meant the past tense... right?.

"Trust me, I tried to get over you. I didn't deserve you, but you still take up most of the space in my thoughts."

When the door way opens, and Jimin's face appears against the light, Jungkook's face drops. He expects you to walk out without a backwards glance, but instead you tell Jimin you'll be down soon before slamming the door shut.

Your feelings are all a mess and before either of you leave this closet, you want Jungkook to know exactly how you feel too. Relieved that he hadn't kissed that girl voluntarily, irritated at all the miscommunication, happy that he had been and is still falling in love with you.

"I hate you for hurting me," you grumble.

"I know," Jungkook replies.

"I shouldn't do this," you grumble again.

"Shouldn't do what?-"

And then you're smashing your lips to his. Jungkook doesn't even care that you might have just broken his nose, all he cares is that he's kissing you again. Your lips are as soft as he's remembered, and when you settle on his lap, he relishes in the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

He almost growls when you break away.

"I'm falling in love with you too, asshole."

Jimin doesn't mention anything when the two of you come back downstairs, half an hour later, and no one seems to bat an eye when you sit beside each other looking much cosier than you had been before being locked in that closet together.

As more people start to head home for the night, the games make way for idle chatter on the couches, and you're content to lay your head against Jungkook's chest, his arm around you, as you listen to the conversations around you.

After talking and making up (and out), you realised that what you had with Jungkook was worth the trouble, and even if something happened that threatened your relationship again, he would always be yours, and you his.

Coming to this party, you weren't sure whether you were going to curse him out or take him back to your house.

One thing was for sure, you were gonna get him back.

anybody still here? LOL... hope you liked this little drabble please reblog if you do<333 it's also 4am help

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@moonstar127

Total works: 11

    Your eyes opened slowly, taking in the darkness of your room. A warm weight was pressed into the curve of your hips and soft snores could be heard near the base of your neck. 

You craned your head to get a glimpse of the sleeping figure behind you. Jungkook, your boyfriend of almost 2 years, slept peacefully. 

Shifting slowly, you turned around and lightly traced the strong lines of his jaw. He twitched at the your feather-light touches but remained deep in sleep. 

You smiled at the pure domesticity of your current position. It was a Sunday morning and the both of you had a rare off day. 

As you stroked Jungkook’s dark hair, you heard your phone chime from across the room.

You moved to detangle your legs from his. He groaned in protest and pulled your waist closer to his body. 

“Babyyy”, Jungkook whined, his raspy morning voice sent shivers down your spine. 

“I’m sorry, love. I just need to grab my phone. I’ll come right back, I promise”, you whisper into the crook of his neck. 

He gives a noncommittal sound but lightly released his iron grip on your waist. 

As you slowly and groggily made your way to your continuously buzzing phone, your boyfriend let out an irritated groan. 

“Good god, who the fuck won’t stop texting you?”, Jungkook sighed as he slowly positioned himself up into a sitting position. 

5 NEW MESSAGES FROM *DO NOT ENGAGE* [10:22 AM] 

Your eyes widened. What did he want? Is he back? 

“Baby?”, Jungkook asked curiously whilst wiping tiredness from his eyes, his observant eyes picking up on your mannerisms, “Is everything alright?” 

“Y-y-yeah”, you manage to stutter. “I’m going to the washroom” 

You quickly grab your phone and run to the washroom. 

Jungkook eyes narrow, as the gears in his mind started to turn. Something was wrong, who was texting you and why were you so spooked by them? 

Whilst Jungkook pondered about who texted you, you were practically on the verge of tears reading the text messages from your ex. 

- I miss you, y/n

- I know that you hate me but please meet with me one last time. 

- I’m going back home in a week and I want to clear everything up with you. 

- Please y/n, if you ever loved me, let me try to make things right. 

- I know you’re reading this. Meet me at Marie’s Bakery across the street from our old apartment at 3:00 PM on Saturday, i’ll wait for you. 

Bile started to form at the base of your throat and your heart started thumping violently. All the memories of you and Suho from back then came flooding into your mind. 

All the nights that the two of you spent dancing and all the morning that you two laid wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

However, the sweet memories lasted for a brief moment until all the sour and bitter moments started to flow in as well. 

Those nights where he would drink mindlessly, yelling and throwing everything in his sight. The days where he would ignore you because he saw you ‘whoring yourself out’ when you engaged in an conversation with a male colleague. 

More than anything, you remember how he ruined you; your pride, your confidence and your independence as a woman. And, how Jungkook had been the one who helped pick up the pieces of your soul that Suho mindlessly broke.

Suddenly, just the mere thought of Jungkook’s name woke you up from your trance, almost as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on you. 

You looked in the mirror, frantically fixing your messy hair and trying to wash out the redness in the rims of your eyes. 

You took one deep breath and placed a smile on your face, walking out of the washroom. 

Jungkook still sat upright on the bed, shirtless. He was leant against the headboard of the bedframe and stared out the large window. 

Morning sunlight fell on his features, accentuating his doe eyes and his heart-shaped lips.  

It was a beautiful sight, almost picturesque. However, the expression on his face was what ruined the masterpiece. 

He looked anguished, almost on the verge of tears. His breathing was uneven and he seemed so hurt. 

He was so engaged in his thoughts that he didn’t even hear you crawl into the bed next to him. 

However, when you pressed your head into the crook of his neck and slid your cool hands across his torso, he jolted. 

He looked down at you, his eyes searching your face frantically, almost as if he were looking for something. 

“Baby...”, he started, taking your face in between his hands.

“I’m fine, my love. Don’t worry so much, okay?”, you whispered, kissing the tips of his calloused fingers. 

Jungkook opened his mouth, on the verge of asking all the horrible questions that had been brewing his head whilst you were gone but he decided against it. 

After all, he was the one who held you in his arms not anybody else, right?

The day passed by, with the two of you cuddled up against each other. You sat in his lap, a random TV show playing in the background. 

You felt a pair of strong hands move towards your waist, as you felt him pull you closer into his broad chest. 

Jungkook nuzzled into your hair and sighed. “I love you Y/N”, he said, dazedly. 

“I love you more Kook. You-”, you replied before bursting into a fit of loud giggles as Jungkook started tickling you. 

Everything was so blissful and happy. Until, you heard your phone ring. 

Jungkook’s eyes met yours, as you begrudgingly got up. He watched your timid form pick up the phone. 

Your breath quickened once you read the name of the caller, it was Suho. You quickly declined the call and slammed the phone down. 

You walked back to Jungkook and pulled him into your chest. Turning up the TV volume, you ignored the look of concern and worry that he sent you. 

By some cruel turn of fate, your voice messaging system must have been connected to one of the speaker’s in your home. Not even a minute had passed, until you heard the slurred words of your ex-boyfriend echo through your and Jungkook’s home. 

“Y/NNNN.. you didn’t respond to my texts. That offended me babyyy... I know you read my texts, how dare you not respond? I know how much you miss me baby. I miss you more. I saw you the other day, at the coffee shop that we used to go to all the time. You still wear the scarf that I gave you on our third anniversary, don’t you my love? That stupid buffoon of a boyfriend will never compare to me. Look, even now, 3 years after we broke up, you still have elements in your life that belong to me. Anyways, just wanted to let you know that I love you and I will make sure to remind you of how much better I am than your new boyfriend on Saturday”

Jungkook stiffened and his grip on you grew slack. His eyes frantically darted between your frame and the speaker. 

You refused to meet his eyes, as you felt tears start to pool. 

“Y/N?”, Jungkook’s wavering voice was the first one to break the almost pin-drop silence that enveloped your entire room, “What is he talking about?”

Your eyes widened. “Babe, Suho recently messaged me. He’s in town and wanted to meet up but I didn’t respond or anything”, you said quickly, reaching for his hand. 

He pulled his arm away as if you had burned him. He quickly stood up, his eyes flared with anger. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that he texted you?”, he asked with an accusing tone. 

“Excuse me? Jungkook, please baby... This is nothing, I didn’t tell you because this wasn’t important”, you tried to reason. 

“Not important?!”, he asked incredulously, “Your ex-boyfriend of almost 3 years, asks you on a date and you don’t tell shit to your current boyfriend?”

“Kook, please.. You’re overreacting babe” 

“Overreacting? God Y/N! Were you ever going to tell me that he texted? Or where you going to keep hiding shit from me? I bet you were gonna meet him on Saturday, I should’ve known that you still loved him. What was I thinking, of course you’d pick him over me”, he rambled. 

You got up from the couch in an attempt to reach for him. 

“Stop it Y/N! I swear you always leave me in the dark. Answer my questions, if I hadn’t heard this message, were you going to tell me that Suho texted? Were you going to meet him?”, he asked. 

You couldn’t meet his eyes as you felt your throat dry. 

His usually bright doe-eyes brimmed with tears at the lack of your answer. Loud sobs racked through his body, as he quivered. 

You wanted to comfort him, you wanted to wrap him in your arms and wipe his tears away. But you knew that you were the reason behind his tears and that hurt more than anything in the world, knowing that you were the reason why the man you loved was in pain. 

He looked up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths as he wiped away his tears. He started to grab his belonging and pack them into his backpack. 

His actions awoke you from your dazed trance. “Baby, please...”, you pleaded, “Let’s talk” 

“Y/N. I can’t even look at you, without hating you. I love you too much to be here right now. I don’t want to say something that I will regret. I think we both need time apart to realize what we want from each other”, he said in a stern tone, with his back to you. 

“Kook, all I want is you”, you cried harder, feeling wet streams of tears fall down your face. 

He stopped packing momentarily, recognizing your crying voice. He hated when you cried, because it made him feel like he was hurt too. 

He took a deep breath and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He briskly walked towards the door, not looking back once. 

As he opened the door, he stopped. 

“I love you, Y/N. I want you more than anything in the world. But I want you to choose what you want. If you want us to be together, you have to be all-in. You know what So-hee did to me, you know how much I hate deceit and lies. Until, you realize what you want, let’s not see each other. Please Y/N, we’re both hurting”, he said softly, “I hope to see you again, okay? As selfish and pathetic as it sounds, I want you to truely choose me”

You stayed silent, watching his retreating frame. 

You sniffed whilst wiping your eyes, it hurt your heart to let him leave. 

This couldn’t be the end, right?

As you trudged back into your and Jungkook’s shared bedroom, your mind kept wandering back to everything Jungkook had said earlier. 

Flashback (Start):

So-hee...

You remember So-hee and how much she hurt Jungkook. 

You and Jungkook used to be class-mates, sharing a single 8 am class. It was a stupid mistake on your behalf to take such an early morning class but you had forgotten to log on the portal earlier, thus leaving you with no choice but to take such an early class. 

So every morning at 8 am, you showed up to class looking like a total zombie. Coincidentally, next to you, was bright-eyed Jungkook, who happened to be an early bird. 

Taking pity on you, he brought you a coffee every morning and shared his notes with you. These little acts were the foundation of your friendship. 

Soon after, the two of you became close friends, with you beginning to develop a secret crush. 

However, this crush was suddenly halted when Jungkook introduced you to So-hee, his new girlfriend. 

So-hee was a beautiful woman, a year older than both of you and an active member of a sorority. She had voluminous caramel hair and plump lips that were always slathered in gloss. 

However, her external beauty did not match her personality, as her personality was shittier than a garbage truck. 

She was a literal bitch. 

She had a nasty attitude and shit-talked everybody, especially you. 

Obviously, poor oblivious Jungkook was too in love to realize how she was using him. 

Jungkook was so blinded by his love for So-hee, that when you confronted him about his girlfriend’s bitchy personality, he defended her. Thus, resulting in a halt in your friendship. 

During this time, you met Suho. Suho reminded you a lot of Jungkook; and being heartbroken and lonely, you did the only thing you could think of, sleep with him. 

Somehow, Suho charmed your broken heart and made you feel special. 

You blocked Jungkook on every app and pretended you didn’t know him out in public. You know that he tried contacting you and how he tried to apologize but was unsuccessful everytime 

For example, at a bar downtown, you and Suho had gone to party. Jungkook happened to be there with So-hee. Once he saw you, his eyes lit up. He tried to move through the crowd to get to you as you sat at the bar alone. Maybe it was fate, but the exact moment that he was about to tap your shoulder, you were whisked away towards the dance floor by Suho. 

Jungkook felt his heart clench as he watched you and Suho laugh together. Suho held you close to him, with his hands placed possessively over the handles of your hips. Whilst you draped your arms around his neck, bringing him down to your level. The two of you made out the entire night without realizing that Jungkook was watching with tears in his eyes.  

Jungkook heeded his defeat and stayed away from you. 

To this day, he will always say that this was his greatest mistake. Knowing that he loved you but not mustering up the courage to tell you. If only he was brave enough to tell the truth, he could’ve saved both you and him from a life-time worth of pain. 

Years went by, Suho became the only man in your life and all the empty spots left by Jungkook were filled up by Suho. You and Suho were like a dream, however, you eventually realized that all that glittered was not gold. 

Suho started to show his true colors; the possessive, manipulative and plain toxic version of himself. 

But by this time, you were in too deep. You loved him too much and you were too blinded. 

Maybe Suho’s behavior is what brought you closer to Jungkook. Because when you and Jungkook coincidentally met at Roma Café, you didn’t run away from him nor did you pretend that you didn’t know him.

You and him sat down and talked about life. Even though years went by since you two last talked, you told him all about Suho and the darkness that clouded your relationship. 

Jungkook eyes widened with pity, as he tried to tell you that this wasn’t love. But funnily enough, the tables turned and this time you were too blinded by love to realize that he was right. 

However, Jungkook loved you enough to stay by your side regardless of how much it hurt to see in such a toxic relationship with Suho. 

Within weeks after reconciling, Jungkook opened up his heart to you as well. Telling you about So-hee and how he found out that she had been actively cheating on him throughout their entire relationship. 

As he sobbed into your chest, you comforted him. You stroked his hair and whispered sweet nothings. Without even realizing it, you desperately wished that instead of returning home to Suho, you would return to Jungkook. 

These late nights with Jungkook did not go unnoticed by Suho. He grew angrier and angrier, day by day. Slut-shaming you, belittling you and even threatening you out of anger and spite. 

This was when you drew the line. One night after he finished his routine of calling you a ‘whore’ and storming out of the house, you packed up your stuff and left. 

You went to the only place you could and that was Jungkook’s apartment. 

When you showed up, rain soaked with 2 full suitcases, Jungkook said nothing and only opened his door wider to let you in. He wrapped you in his arms, the second you entered the threshold of his home, not caring that you were soaking his shirt. 

He comforted you, the same way you had done to him. He stroked your hair and whispered sweet nothings. He let you sleep in his bed and he pulled up the covers for you. He cooked warm meals for you and sat by you while you ate, encouraging you to eat more. He showered you in daily compliments and praises and urged you to block Suho on everything. And little by little with Jungkook’s support, you got over Suho and fell back in love with Jungkook. 

Flashback (End):

Your heart felt heavy. All you wanted right now, was to bury your head into Jungkook’s neck and cry. 

And that’s when it hit you, all you wanted right now was Jungkook. Not Suho, not anyone else, just Jungkook. 

You jumped out of bed and quickly grabbed a random hoodie from your closet (which happened to belong to Jungkook). 

You ran out of your apartment, heaving by the time you got to the entrance of the building. It was pouring and the sky was inky black. 

You didn’t know where he would go but you went with your gut. So within 7 minutes of sprinting in the rain, you arrived in front of Jimin’s house. 

You pressed the doorbell of his house, panting. Jimin opened the door cautiously, but upon seeing you and the state of your body, he quickly let you in. 

“Oh my god, Y/N! You’re drenched. Do you know what time it is?! It’s dangerous to be running outside so late at night. Take a seat and I’ll bring you a towel”, Jimin started, moving towards the bathroom to get you a towel. 

“Jimin, where is he?”, you muster out, voice cracking. 

“Y/N, please just dry off and I’ll tell you”, he says exasperatedly, “He’ll kill me if you get sick”

Within seconds, you dry off. Your mind was moving a mile a minute and the adrenaline from running was wearing off, leaving you sore, tired and cold.  

Jimin finally returned with a cup of steaming hot tea. He placed the mug on the table in front of you and took a seat opposite of you. 

“Jimin, please...”, you whispered. 

Jimin nodded, sighing deeply. 

“He’s in the room down the hall. Walk in quietly though, he probably fell asleep. Don’t mess up again, it took a lot of effort to get that big man-baby to stop crying. He loves you a lot, and I know you love him so please sort this out. I swear, I’m such an amazing friend to both of you. I deserve a raise, so you two better pay me back later”, Jimin said with a big teasing smile. 

You pushed his shoulder playfully and walked towards the door for Jungkook’s room. 

You took a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves, as you stood in front of the door. You contemplated on whether or not this was a good idea. However, the thought of seeing Jungkook again gave you the courage to finally twist the handle and walk into the room. 

The bedroom was dark and nothing felt familiar, other than the faint smell of Jungkook. 

The faint smell of familiar soap, was one that you automatically associated with Jungkook because it was a cologne that you bought him. He used it religiously, making your entire apartment smell like him and you came to the realization of how empty the apartment felt without Jungkook. 

As you stood at the doorway with a bated breathe, Jungkook stirred. You realized that you left the door open, the light from the hallway filtered into the dark room. You lightly shut the door when you heard Jungkook’s voice. 

“Y/N?”, he called out, groggily. 

Your eyes watered as you made your way to the edge of his bed. You kneeled near the head of his bed and clasped his hand in yours. You brought his hand up to your cheek and sobbed. 

“God, I’m so sorry. Jungkook. Baby, I love you so much and I am so sorry that I was stupid”, you choked out, your words were border-line incoherent. 

Upon hearing your sobs, Jungkook immediately broke out of his sleepy daze. He sat up and pulled into his lap, patting your back comfortingly. 

Your shoulders shook from the extent of your sobs as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, but your cries started to quiet as Jungkook soothed you. The simple action of being able to hold him close to you was enough to calm you down completely. 

Once you stopped crying, you moved up from his neck. You cupped his face in your hands and stared into his bright eyes. His hands firmly gripped your hips, as if he was scared you were going to run away. 

When he smiled his bunny-like smile at you, you smiled back. Overcome with nothing but hopeful bliss, you brought his lips up to yours and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. He responded immediately, kissing you back passionately. 

You kissed until you had to pull away to breathe. As you refilled you lungs with air, you caressed his jaw. Pushing away awry strands of hair, you giggle again. 

“I missed you, baby”, Jungkook whispers. 

“I missed you more. I’m sorry about what happened today. I should’ve told you about Suho but honestly I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to stress you out. I was just going to meet him to get closure. I want to cut him out of my life for good, Kook. I love you and only you, I want him out my life so I can love you more freely”, you explained. 

Jungkook nodded, “I understand, baby. I was in the wrong too. I should’ve trusted you and let you explain. But Y/N, you can tell me about these things, okay? I’m your boyfriend, and I want to know about these things in your life”

You smiled and pecked his lips as a sign of understanding. 

He smiled and pulled your head down to kiss you again. He rested his forehead against yours and sighed. “I was worried that you wouldn’t come. I couldn’t stop crying, I probably cried myself to sleep. I missed you so much, you know?”, Jungkook whispered, “I’m glad you’re here now though. Actually, hang on a second, how did you get here?” 

You laughed nervously and rubbed the back of your neck, “Uh- I ran here...” 

“In the rain?!”, Jungkook asked, “Baby, it’s pouring outside! Don’t tell me you got soaked in the rain” 

You laughed and pecked his nose, before attempting to slide off of him. 

“Nooo, babyyy. Stay on top of me. I missed you too much to let you go”, he whined childishly. 

“Kook, I’m not leaving. Just wanted to cuddle next to you, I’m too heavy for you, you’ll lose circulation to your thighs”, you laughed. 

“No, I won’t babe. I’ve been working out my thighs so that I can keep you on top of me forever” 

You laughed but still slid off of him and lay down on the pillow next to him. 

You felt him turn to you and wrap his arms around your waist, his face buried into your neck. 

He sighed happily. “I love you, baby”, he whispered drowsily. 

“I love you more, Kook”, you whispered back, listening to his breathes even out, a clear indication that he had fallen asleep. 

You sighed happily, tightening your hold on Jungkook’s hand and fell into deep slumber, wrapped in the embrace of a man who you loved more than anything in the world. 

------------------------------------------------------

A/N: WOW!! Congrats if you read all of that!! Thank you for taking the time to read my work. This fic is something that I had in my drafts for a while but due to school, I wasn’t able to work on. But thankfully, winter break is doing me a solid and giving me time to write. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Please make sure to leave a like, comment and let me know your thoughts. I’m trying to segue way back into writing again, so feel free to reblog and share this story with others (with proper credits ofc). Once again, I love you all and thank you so much for you support <333333 

The environment you're currently in would have been uncomfortable for you even a few months ago, but now you've gotten used to it. You'd not go as far as to say that you enjoy it, because you don't, but at least you don't hate being here. It is what it is. It's not like you have a choice anyway.

Working as a software programmer for FCS aka Felix Consultancy Services had its perks such as good pay, friendly co-workers and you were confident when it came to anything computer related, so the job was enjoyable.

What however was a con of your job, at least according to you, was attending these mid-year parties, which had a little bit of everything.

Your company isn't necessarily big but is a reliable one and the services it provides are used by more or less all big companies in the states. As a result of which, your company is always invited to these parties.

You don't have anything against it but you are not a fan of socializing with people, but, being the head of your department, talking to potential investors is inevitable.

Needless to say, that is tiring.

You head towards the bar, you cannot afford getting drunk but some temperance drink would do the job. Requesting your order, you sit near the bar waiting for your drink and give out a tired sigh. You take out your mobile for any messages or possible source of entertainment, only to freeze hearing a voice you surprisingly recognise even after all these years.

"Two piña colada please".

You don't know what to do, you cannot imagine having eye contact with him, but you know you also want to look just to be sure that you aren't hearing things, or someone doesn't have the exact same voice as that one person, you haven't allowed your mind to wonder about in years.

Hence you give yourself a chance to sneak a glance only to see him. He, however, isn't alone. He has his arms around a petite blonde, a gorgeous one at that. He thankfully doesn't notice you. He is busy giving his companion, what can only be referred to as "bedroom eyes" and you don't let yourself ponder about that. You wanted a glance to make sure if the voice belonged to him and you have already done that. You really do not wish to let him occupy your mind more than required.

However, you find yourself unwilling to make a single move to remove yourself from the spot. You are extremely scared of gaining attention, especially gaining his attention. You cannot risk that.

Hence you wait. Wait impatiently until he decides to leave. You have long forgotten about your drink order, all you can focus on is the blonde’s flirty giggles and some whispers from him which aren’t loud enough for you to figure out the words but loud enoigh for you to somehow hear his voice.

As soon as both of them leave the bar, you very quickly yet subtly check if the path is clear.

Not spotting any potential danger, you make a quick beeline towards the exit gate and book a cab.

You are paranoid even after stepping out. What if he comes out of the hall right now? What if he sees you? What if he wants to talk to you?

To say that you are grateful when you see the cab approaching, would be an understatement. You release a sigh of relief and let yourself relax for a minute only to realise you left the party abruptly. You know you aren’t going to get into any trouble because you hardly ever had any complaints against you and your boss is a very kind and considerate person, but you also understand the need to inform someone that you have left the party.

Deciding to send a quick text to your best friend and roommate Tae, you type out that you suddenly felt sick. Yeah, that should do.

You: Hey Tae, sorry I left the party. I’m already on my way to our place. I wasn’t feeling well. If anyone asks just let them know that. [8:38 PM]

Tae: you left the party??? [8:41 PM]

Tae: suddenly? [8:41PM]

Tae: you were fine [8:41 PM]

Tae: literally a few minutes ago when we talked [8:42 PM]

Tae: 😑😒 [8:43 PM]

Tae: you’re lying [8:43 PM]

Tae:what happened? [8:43 PM]