#table 3

His alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m., the sound cutting through the silence of the room. at first, you stir in confusion, instinctively nuzzling deeper into Jungkook's body, ready to complain. ready to scold him for setting an alarm so damn early.

but then it all comes to you, and the realization slams into you like a gut punch.

Ur breath catches, and before you can stop it, a sob claws up your throat, except this time, you bite it back.

No. You refuse to cry again. Not now atleast.

You've already wasted too much of the time you have left with him crying, and you won't let yourself waste any more.

Jungkook still doesn't wake up, even though the alarm is blaring. He looks so peaceful like this, his face softened, lips slightly parted, eyelashes fluttering faintly in his sleep.

You could be selfish and could lay here a little longer, press yourself closer, pretend time isn't moving the way it is.

But you know you can't, you know what the right thing to do is. So you take a breath, steady yourself, and reach for him. Your fingers brush through his hair, gentle, and you whisper, "Jungkook, wake up."

He stirs when you call his name, eyebrows furrowing like he's already sensing something is wrong. For a second, you hesitate, genuinely considering not waking him, just a little longer. Just a few more minutes where it can all still be a dream.

But then his eyes open.

And immediately, they're sad. He doesn't even try to hide it. But still. he forces the smallest, softest smile for you before pulling you right back into his arms. He tucks you into him, wraps you up like he's trying to make sure you don't slip away, like if he holds tight enough, maybe time will stop.

He just cuddles you. For what feels like hours.

Your face is pressed into his bare chest, feeling the rise and fall of every shaky breath he takes, and you can't even say anything for a while. you just hold him back.

Until, eventually, you whisper against him, "It's time."

His arms tense, but he just gives a soft nod, wordless behind you, pressing his nose into your hair like he's memorizing every single part of you.

And neither of you moves, not yet. because you both know that once you do, it's really happening.

So you just hold each other.

For as long as you possibly can.

———

You both finally pull yourselves out of bed, and without saying much, you drift into the bathroom. The water is hot, but not scalding, just enough to lull you both into this fragile, quiet state where neither of you dares to speak. Jungkook scrubs your hair gently, presses soft kisses to your shoulders, and you trace lazy shapes into his back, knowing this is the last time you'll do this for a while.

The shower feels like it lasts forever and yet not long enough. and maybe you should've gotten dressed right after, but you don't. You don't even make it past the bathroom door before you both find yourselves tangled up again, back in bed, desperately clinging to each other, crying again because it's all too much.

He doesn’t say a word when he shifts above you, doesn’t ask, doesn’t tease. he just looks at you like he’s memorising the way you fall apart. Like he wants to remember the exact way your eyes flutter shut when he presses into you slowly, so slowly, like he’s scared to break you.

Your legs wrap around him before you even think to do it, pulling him closer, deeper, like you’re trying to keep him inside you. Like if you hold him like this, time will stop,

It doesn’t.

His forehead drops to yours, and you feel his breath stutter, his body trembling as he moves with a softness that feels more like pleading.

His hands are everywhere. your waist, your face, your chest. touchign like he’s desperate to memorize the feel of your skin under his palms. And you let him. You give him everything.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, anchoring him, grounding him, your mouth brushing his cheek, his jaw, his shoulder. like you’re trying to kiss every piece of him you’ll miss, even though itd be impossible to show that.

ur both crying. not loudly, not messily. just quiet tears slipping between breaths, between gasps, between the slow rise and fall of your bodies pressed together in, painful rhythm.

when you come, you do it silently, mouth parted against his shoulder, nails digging into his back like maybe that’ll make him stay.

He follows not long after, chest pressed flush to yours, teeth gritted, whispering your name like a prayer he can’t say out loud.

And when it’s over, when the air is still and your bodies are tangled in sweat and tears, he doesn’t pull away. He just holds you.

Like if he stays inside you long enough, maybe the time won’t come.

By the time you both come back to reality, it's already 6:30. The sun is barely peeking through the curtains, but it's unforgiving. it's really happening.

You slip out of bed, and Jungkook pulls on a pair of sweatpants alongside his shirt, rubbing at his tired eyes before quietly making his way to your kitchen. Like it's routine. Like it's any other morning.

He makes you pancakes, just like always, even stacking a few extra on a small plate off to the side. just in case you want to eat them later when you're alone. You don't have to ask. You know that's why he did it.

When you're halfway through eating, he surprises you by pulling his shirt over his head and holding it out to you. "Have this," he says softly.

You blink at him. "Really?"

He nods, like it's obvious. "Mhm."

You take it, pulling it into your arms while he puts on a sweatshirt, burying your face into the fabric. It smells like him, fresh and warm. Like him.

“Thank you."

his eyes soften completely before he crosses the small space between you, kissing you once, twice, three times, like he can't help himself.

He gathers up the few things he's left in your apartment, taking his time, scanning the space like he's burning it into memory. And then, when he's ready, he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

"Let's go," he says quietly.

And you both drive to his apartment, together.

the whole entire car ride is silent.Jungkook's hand is in yours, warm and steady, but he doesn't say a word. Neither do you. There's nothing left to say that hasn't already been said.

You try to look out the window, try to focus on the blurred streets and streetlights slowly fading as the sun climbs higher, but it's impossible to ignore the way your chest feels tight, like you can't even take a full breath. Tears are already slipping down your cheeks, and you don't even bother wiping them away this time.

Jungkook knows you're crying. He knows without having to glance over. He just keeps driving, thumb rubbing soft, steady circles against the back of your hand like it's the only thing keeping you grounded. Maybe it is. Maybe it always has been.

Every so often, you steal glances at him, and every time you do, it makes it worse. He's biting the inside of his cheek, eyes focused on the road, but you can see it, the glassiness, the quiet shake in his exhale, the way he's working so hard to keep it together because if he breaks now, you both will.

The streets look so normal, the city sounds so normal, but nothing about this is normal. It's the last car ride you'll have with him for a while. Maybe longer.

And the worst part? He looks so much like home.

You tighten your grip on his hand without thinking. He tightens his back instantly Still silent. still steady.

but when the stoplight turns red, and he's forced to pause, he finally turns to you. His voice is rough, barely there. "Baby..."

You meet his eyes, and you don't realize how fast the tears come until you're gasping for air.

Jungkook leans over the center console and just presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight, hand still clutching yours like letting go would be the end of the world.

And maybe it is.

The light turns green.

You go down the familiar route. the streets you've traced a thousand times, the turns Jungkook always takes, the little corner store you two would pass on late nights when he insisted on snacks, the shortcut he figured out when you were running late once. It all passes by outside the window like some cruel, silent reminder.

You didn't even realize how familiar it had become to you until now.

And when you pull up, it's there. the spot outside his apartment building. The same one you stood in front of that first night when he walked you home, when you thought he was just some cocky stranger, not knowing you'd see this place so many more times after. Not knowing it would become his.

Yours.

He doesn't wait. His hand finds yours the second the car is parked, as if every second from here on out counts more than it ever did before. His grip is tighter now, like he's scared you might slip away first.

The steps up to his apartment feel different too. Slower. hes not rushing this time, not tugging you along like usual, and you're both too quiet, like the words you need are stuck. You trail behind slightly, your eyes trying to capture every detail, the cracks in the staircase, the peeling paint on the railing, the way the light flickers just before you reach his floor.

you never even noticed the light flickered.

When you finally step inside, it hits you so hard you nearly stumble. It's the same apartment you've been in a hundred times. Same scent, same soft clutter of Jungkook's things, same framed photos on the shelf you teased him about when you first saw them. But everything feels... fragile now.

You don't rush to the couch like you usually do. You don't toe off your shoes and make some dumb joke. You just stand there for a second, swallowing the lump in your throat as your eyes scan everything really see everything.

The way his shoes are messily tossed by the door. The cup on the counter that still has tea in it. The dent in the couch cushion where you two always sit, too close, knees always brushing.

You took all of it for granted.

And Jungkook watches you the whole time. Watches you take it all in like he knows exactly what you're doing. Like he's doing the same thing.

Then, quietly, so quietly you almost miss it, he says, "Come here."

And you do. Without question.

He pulls you deeper into the apartment, fingers weaving between yours, leading you like it's your first time all over again, except this time, you both know it might be your last for a while. he lets you soak it all in. Lets you look at every little thing you'd always overlooked.

Because maybe, deep down, he's doing it too.

You step into Jungkook's bedroom, and it hits you like a punch in the chest.

It was always boring. you always told him that. Teased him for having such a modern space. White walls, plain furniture, everything in its place. You'd always poke fun at him for it, curling into his side and whispering that it looked like a showroom more than a home.

But now... now you realize it wasn't boring at all.

Now, with most of it packed away, you notice how his it really was. The little things scattered around the edges that made it soft, the signs that he'd actually made it his own without you even noticing. the corner where he'd shoved spare guitar picks, the tiny crack in the floorboard near the window, the pile of manga on his nightstand that you always rolled your eyes at but secretly loved seeing there.

And then there's him.

He's standing in the middle of the room, staring down at his luggage like it's the most daunting thing in the world. His shoulders are trembling, eyes glassy, but he's trying so hard to hold it together. His hands fumble as he folds one of his shirts and sets it down too carefully, like if he does it right, none of this will actually happen.

You swallow the lump in your throat and cross the room, wordlessly picking up another shirt to help.

"I'll do it," he says, voice barely there, cracking slightly.

"Let me," you whisper back.

And he does. He lets you. so you fold beside him, both of you in silence except for the soft sniffs and shaky breaths. He only has one luggage and a big backpack. that's it. Months together, and yet everything he's taking with him fits into two bags. It makes your stomach twist.

While sorting through his things, you pull out a soft yellow hoodie you swear you've never seen before. Your brows furrow.

"Wait... this is nice," you mumble, holding it up. "Why have I never seen you wear this?"

His head dips, cheeks coloring even as his tears threaten to spill. He rubs at his nose and shrugs.

"I... I don't know. I saw it and thought of you. So I got it."

You choke out a small, watery laugh, eyes brimming. "You're such an idiot," you murmur affectionately, wiping at your face.

Then your eyes catch on something tucked away near the corner of the closet.

It's the little flower plushie.

The one you gave him ages ago when you joked about him needing something to hug on his bed when you weren't around. The one with the little stitched face, all crooked because you'd gotten it from one of those claw machines, and you weren't sure if it was cute or cursed. He still kept it.

You stare at it for a second too long.

Jungkook notices, swallowing hard, eyes glossing over as he murmurs, "I wasn't gonna leave it."

———

The room is empty now.

Jungkook stands there, staring at it like it's foreign, like it's never belonged to him.

And you... you're just sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the packed bags, swallowing down the ache in your throat that hasn't left since the moment you woke up.

He sees you like that. quiet, trembling, tears still falling even though you haven't spoken. and something in him just gives. He shoves the bags out into the hallway, kicks the door shut, and crosses the room without hesitation.

He takes your hand. "C'mere," he murmurs.

You don't resist as he pulls you back into the bed, into the covers you've both hidden under countless times. He tucks you against his chest, arms wrapped around you like he can shield you from time itself. Like maybe, if he just holds you tight enough, he won't have to go.

You cry harder into him, and he presses soft, slow kisses to the top of your head, the back of your hand, your temple. anywhere he can reach.

And then, quietly, like he needs you to hear it again to believe it himself, he whispers, "I promise I'll be back."

Your hand clutches the fabric of his shirt, desperate, like you could keep him here just by holding on tighter. But you nod, shaky and wet-eyed, whispering back, "I know."

And then, you pull back just slightly, eyes searching his. "I promise I'll be here."

And he knows. He knows you don't just mean when he visits, when the holidays come around. You mean when it's over. when he's finished completely, when he's free.

He just nods, blinking quickly to stop himself from crying again. He won't. Not yet.

So the two of you just sit there, huddled together in silence, staring at the now-empty room like it's something you'll never see again. And maybe you won't. Not like this. Not as it was.

After what feels like half an hour, you're the one to break the silence, voice small but steady, even if your eyes are still glassy. "Let... let me see your uniform."

He knows why you're asking. It's time. He's got an hour left.

Without a word, he stands, changing right in front of you, shameless like always. but there's a weight to it this time. He fixes his hair with trembling hands, smooths out the dark fabric, adjusts his collar, and tugs you by the hand into the living room where the morning light barely filters through.

You step closer ndrun your hands over the material carefully, like you're memorizing the feel of it. Your fingers trace his name tag slowly, eyes following every thread like it matters more than anything.

You adjust his collar for him, smoothing it down gently. The action feels so intimate, so final, it almost takes your breath away.

And Jungkook? That's when he breaks.

Soft sobs escape him, no matter how tightly he bites his lip. He crumples just a little, eyes squeezing shut as tears stream freely down his cheeks. You're right there, running your fingers through his hair, whispering, "Handsome. I knew you'd look good in it."

And he's just sobbing now, leaning into your touch like he's desperate for it, for you

Like he always will be.

When you walk to the kitchen together to kill time, Jungkook eats a light snack even though you can tell he doesn't want to. His uniform looks too perfect, too official, against the normalcy of hks apartment. the sunlight casting soft lines across his face as he takes slow bites of a banana.

You don't eat. You can't. You just sit there, watching him, holding the mug in your hands like it's the only thing grounding you.

And he knows. He knows you can't bring yourself to drink, but he also knows you're trying to memorize every second of this. Of him. Of this stupid breakfast.

When he finishes, he takes a shaky breath, wipes his mouth, and glances at you. "You wanna help me with the bags?"

You nod, trying to be useful, but the moment you grab the handle, you realize. it's too heavy.

"Shit," you mumble under your breath, trying to lift it anyway. Jungkook lets out the smallest laugh, walking over and easily lifting it for you.

"You tried," he teases gently, trying,desperately to lighten the mood. But neither of you can hold onto the humor for long.

You bring the rest of the bags to the door together, setting them down before sinking onto the couch. And that's where you stay.

Wrapped up in each other like you'll never get to do this again.

His arms are tight around you. One hand smoothing circles into your back, the other cradling the back of your head like you might fall apart if he lets go. And you probably will.

Your fingers grip at his uniform like it might just melt away if you don't.

Neither of you say much. There's nothing left to say. Just holding. Just breathing. Just feeling.

You trace the side of his face with your trembling fingers, memorizing it for the hundredth time this morning alone. He leans into it, eyes fluttering shut, letting out a shaky exhale against your palm.

And then—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The both of you stiffen. Jungkook turns his head just enough to glance at the clock. 7:50.

You feel your heart physically sink.

You both already knew the knock was coming, but knowing doesn't make hearing it any easier.

He pulls back slightly, enough to look at you fully. His lip quivers. His eyes beg you not to cry. but he's crying too.

And you swallow hard, feeling the sharp burn rise in your throat as reality hits harder than it has all morning.

It's time.

He swallows hard, wiping at his eyes, but it's no use he's already crying again.

so, Jungkook pushes himself to stand, glancing at the door like it might just disappear if he stares long enough. He takes a step, then another, but you don't move. You're frozen, watching him. He watches you right back.

And just before he reaches for the handle, he turns around.

Without a word, he pulls you into the tightest hug you've ever felt in your life. His arms wrap around you like you're the last thing keeping him upright.

He presses his lips to your forehead and holds them there, breathing you in, like he's trying to burn you into his memory.

"You'll be okay," he whispers, voice cracking, "I promise."

You shake your head against him, already sobbing, gripping the fabric of his uniform tight.

"No, no I—“

"Yes." He pulls back only enough to press his forehead to yours, his hands cupping your face, thumbs catching your tears. "You'll be okay. I need you to be okay."

He kisses you, soft and trembling, like he's scared he might break you, or himself. You taste his tears.

"I promise you," he breathes against your lips, "always."

"I love you so much," you whisper, but it comes out as a sob.

His face crumples. "I love you so much too. So much."

And when he pulls away, you don't let him go.

Your hand stays wrapped around his arm, desperate, as if you're silently begging him not to open the door. His eyes soften, and you see it. that split second where he almost doesn't.

Instead, Jungkook lets out a shaky breath and decides. he turns fully back to you and just... hugs you again. Tight, tighter than before, swaying you gently side to side like it'll somehow make this feel less brutal.

You just cry into each other.

And when he finally lets go. only because he has to, he opens the door. Standing there is his manager and one of the other staff. They both immediately notice the state of you both, but neither says anything.

"You ready?" his manager asks, voice quiet.

Jungkook blinks through the tears. Nods. Swallows.

"Are you sure she can't come?" he asks, voice breaking again as he glances back at you.

The manager looks guilty. "I'm sorry."

He just nods again. Quiet. Accepting.

The staff member steps in and helps him with his backpack. Jungkook shrugs it on without a word, but his eyes never leave you.

And then he's standing in front of you again.

He kisses you. He hugs you.

He sways you side to side like he always does when he doesn't want to say goodbye. "You're strong baby, you'll be okay," he tells you, trying to convince himself too.

You sniffle, wiping your eyes, glaring at him softly through the tears. "I'll miss you so much."

"I love you," you add, voice trembling.

"I love you too." He smooths his thumb over your cheek.

"Always text me, okay? Whatever you can. Whenever you can."

He nods instantly. "I promise."

You can barely see him anymore through the tears, but you still reach up and gently fix his collar again, like you've done it a hundred times before.

He tries to smile for you, even through the tears.

And when he steps back this time, you know.

This is it.

He'll be back. He promised.

But this part is nearly over.

You don't let go of his hand, not even when he tries to gently step back, not even when the manager quietly clears his throat behind him.

Jungkook laces his fingers tighter with yours, and you walk him down his hallway, side by side, neither of you saying anything.

The silence says enough. Your tears fall freely now, unchecked. His do too, slipping down his flushed cheeks as he grips your hand like a lifeline.

When you reach the elevator, you both hesitate.

The doors slide open, and neither of you moves. It's like stepping inside will make it too real.

But he steps in, just barely, and you stay rooted to the ground, still holding his hand.

He gives you a tiny, devastated smile. "You'll be okay."

You shake your head, crying harder. "I don't want to be okay."

He chokes on a sob, pulling you into another hug right there in the elevator doorway.

Then, "Wait!"

Both your heads snap around.

Nari comes flying down the hallway, barefoot, hair a mess, in her pajamas, looking like she just sprinted from bed.

"I'm fucking late!" she pants, looking horrified, but then sees your face and freezes. "Oh. Oh, baby—"

She rushes over, immediately wiping at your tears like she's your mom instead of your best friend.

"You're leaving?" she asks Jungkook, turning to him.

Jungkook gives a wet laugh, eyes red. "Yeah."

Nari rolls her eyes through her own tears. "I knew you two would be like this. Should've bet money on it."

Jungkook sniffles, managing a soft chuckle. "Nari... thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." She waves him off, biting her lip. "Honestly, you annoyed me half the time, but you're alright." She jokes, and then she hugs him, warm and friendly.

You're barely breathing, watching them, grateful without words. She just bought you time.

The manager looks like he might keel over in the corner, rubbing his temples.

Nari pulls back. "Okay, okay. I'm stepping aside. Go do the whole tragic movie thing." She gives you both space.

And just like that, it's the final goodbye.

Jungkook turns to you fully. His eyes are glassy, lips trembling, but he's smiling, soft and real.

He steps back into your arms, holding you so tightly you swear he might never let go.

"You'll be okay," he whispers again. "I promise you’ll be okay."

You barely manage to nod. "I'll miss you so much. I love you."

"I love you." His voice shakes.

You feel his hand slip into the pocket of your hoodie. You're too overwhelmed to register it fully.

Jungkook kisses you one last time, slow, aching, like a promise sealed and he pulls back, his thumb wipes away the new tears that instantly replacing the old ones.

"You've got this," he says softly, before swaying you side to side like he always does, desperate to keep you close just a second longer.

You cling to him. "Always text me."

"Always," he whispers, resting his forehead to yours. "I swear."

Another deep breath. He pulls back. You don't let go until you absolutely have to.

He steps into the elevator, eyes never leaving you.

And when the doors finally slide shut, it feels like your heart leaves with him.

And for a second, you just stand there, frozen, staring at your own reflection in the metal, like maybe if you look long enough, it’ll open again. Like maybe this isn’t really happening.

Then it hits you.

All of it.

You crumble before you make it two steps, knees hitting the floor in his hallway, sobs tearing out of you before you can stop them. Ugly, broken sounds that echo off the walls.

Nari’s there in seconds, barefoot and frantic, trying to pull you into her arms, whispering something like, “I know, I know, baby, I know—”

But you can’t hear her.

Everything’s muffled. Blurred. Drenched in the sound of your own heartbreak. You’re shaking so hard it feels like your body doesn’t belong to you anymore.

You don’t know how long you stay there, curled into yourself like maybe you can disappear.

You don’t know what Nari’s saying.

You don’t know how the door gets closed again or when the hallway goes quiet.

And you haven't even noticed yet, a note is still tucked safely in your pocket.

A/N: babies… 😭 thank you so so so so much for reading the first-ever series i actually started (apart from magic, which is… a disaster. we don’t talk about her). but anyways. i finished her. i actually finished her. can you believe it???thank you for being patient with me when i disappeared for weeks at a time like a deadbeat fic parent. life got busy, my brain was loud, but you guys stuck around and i’m so, so grateful for that. 🫂

how do we feel about the ending?? be honest. i was going insane finishing this because i couldn’t tell if it was hitting or not, but i figured it’d be worse to keep you waiting any longer. so here she is. raw and fragile and crybaby-coded. i hope she hurts in all the right ways, for some reason shes not as sad as i expected?? idk but maybe its cs ive read over this like 300 times lollll, also, this is the end… but not the end end there will be an epilogue. when he comes back. which is, um. next week.

jungkoook is coming back in a week. i repeat: ONE. WEEK. i am unwell.

i love you all so much. thank you again for everything — your comments, your support, your love for this messy little forbidden romance. i hope it was worth it </3

cry with me in the replies pls

the drive to back is quiet in a way that feels heavy yet peaceful, the soft hum of his radio’s blending with the rhythmic sounds of the road beneath you. every now and then, he glances at you, his free hand drumming absentmindedly against the steering wheel, but he doesn't say much.

when he pulls up in front of your apartment, he checks the time, its already 6:15 p.m.

His jaw tenses for a second before he brushes it off, locking his phone. Just as he does, another notification pops up, his manager, letting him know that his uniform has been dropped off at his place.

"hm." he reads it again before turning to you. "i think, my uniform's here."

ur face lights up. "im excited to see it."

Jungkook frowns, clearly confused. "You're excited?"

you unbuckle your seatbelt with a shrug. "Yeah. I've never seen you in a uniform before. Is that weird?"

Jungkook lets out a short laugh. "A little."

By the time you're walking up to your apartment, he's still laughing under his breath, watching you out of the corner of his eye. Then, suddenly, "You're excited to see me leave?" he teases, grinning as he bumps his shoulder into yours.

You gasp dramatically. "Yes. God, I can't wait."

He bursts into giggles, loud and unfiltered, his head tilting back slightly. The sound lingers even as you step into your apartment.

he toes off his shoes lazily at the door while you head straight for the couch, plopping down with a sigh. But he doesn't join you. Instead, he crouches by your plant corner, fingers brushing over the stems of the daisies sitting in one of your vases.

He tilts his head slightly. "They're growing well."

You hum, watching as he carefully fixes them, adjusting the angle of one that had drooped slightly.

"Do you remember when I got you these?" he asks, eyes still focused on the flowers.

You sit up, glancing over. "Of course, I do."

Your voice is softer now, and Jungkook finally looks at you.

You motion toward the small, single flower sitting on your TV stand. "This was the very first one. The one you gave me at the diner."

Jungkook's gaze softens.

"And then this one," you continue, nodding toward the next vase, where a bouquet sits. "That was after."

"When I picked you up from work," he murmurs.

You hum in agreement, pointing to another bouquet, the one he got you after taking you to the beach. Then, finally, the massive arrangement he gave you this morning.

Jungkook stares at it for a moment before shifting his attention to your wall, the place where he already knows you've been carefully pressing and taping up each one. His throat bobs slightly.

"I like that you keep them," he says after a beat.

You smile. "I like that you keep giving them to me."

He huffs out a quiet laugh, glancing at you with something so full, so warm in his eyes, you feel it in your chest.

And then, he just listens. taking in your words, the flowers, the way this place has slowly become filled with pieces of him.

and hes is still crouched by your plants when you stand up, stretching your arms above your head with a small yawn.

"I should start getting ready," you say, already heading toward your room.

Jungkook follows without a word, but when you glance over your shoulder, he's undoing the top button of his shirt, tugging it off effortlessly as he makes his way toward his bag.

"Make yourself comfortable, I guess," you tease, laughing when he just flashes you a grin.

By the time you start doing your makeup, Jungkook has already stripped out of his casual clothes and is pulling on his slacks, still careful to keep his new hair hidden beneath a cap. You sit in front of your mirror, your makeup bag spread out in front of you, while Jungkook takes a seat on the edge of your bed, tying his shoelaces.

"You really won't show me your hair?" you ask, catching his gaze in the mirror as you swipe concealer under your eyes.

Jungkook smirks. "Later. I promise."

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can press further, he leans forward slightly, tilting his head.

"What's that?" He nods toward the product in your hand.

You blink. "Concealer."

He hums, watching as you blend it out. "That's the one that brightens, right?"

You pause. "Yeah... you know about concealer?"

Jungkook snorts. "I get my makeup done all the time."

"True." You nod, reaching for the next step. "This is powder."

"Sets everything in place?"

You flash him a grin. "Exactly."

and just like that, the two of you fall into an easy conversation as you talk him through each product, him occasionally throwing in little comments or ovservations that make it clear he actually knows what he's talking about. He watches you the entire time, arms crossed as he leans back on his hands, eyes warm with amusement and something softer that he doesn't bother hiding.

When you finish, you tilt your head at him through the mirror. "So? Thoughts?"

Jungkook grins. "Beautiful, as expected."

You roll your eyes but laugh anyway, turning around in your seat. "Okay, time for me to pick out an outfit. What do I wear?"

Jungkook doesn't hesitate. "Something fancy."

You nod. "Alright. Get out."

His brows shoot up. "Oh?"

"It's a surprise—!" you say, waving him toward the door.

Jungkook laughs but stands up, holding his hands up in surrender as he heads for the hallway. "Alright, alright. I'll be waiting."

And with that, he disappears, leaving you grinning to yourself as you turn back to your closet.

——

You run your fingers through your hair one last time, smoothing it down before stepping back to take in your reflection.

its a silk slip dress, it drapes over your figure perfectly, the soft yellow catching the light in a way that makes it look almost golden. It's long, elegant yet simple. exactly how you'd want Jungkook to remember this night.

to remember you.

Grabbing your phone, you snap a quick mirror selfie and send it to Nari.

You: Approve?

her response is literally— immediate.

Nari: BITCHHHHHHHHHH OMG WTF YOU LOOK SO FUCKING HOT HELLO??????

Nari: OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Nari: IM BARKING. IM SCREAMING. IM THROWING UP.

Nari: JUNGKOOK IS GOING TO LITERALLY DIE. YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM.

you giggle, slipping on your white heels and grabbing a little bag before heading out to the living room where hes is waiting. He's leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone, his brows slightly furrowed in focus.

And then he looks up. His eyes widen instantly.

Jungkook stiffens, his phone lowering slightly in his hands as he just... stares. His lips part, his jaw tensing like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. His gaze sweeps over you, taking in every detail, the silk, the way it clings to your frame, the delicate yellow against your skin, the way you stand there watching him, just waiting.

His throat bobs as he swallows.

"..whoa."

Jungkook pushes off the counter, walking toward you with that same intense stare, so unwavering that you have to glance away. Your fingers tighten around your bag, your heart hammering as he stops right in front of you.

"Is this... good?" you ask shyly, voice quieter than you intended.

His hands find your waist, warm and firm, grounding you in the moment. "It's perfect." His voice is low, almost reverent.

Your cheeks burn instantly. pushing lightly at his chest.

But that only makes him grin, and it gives you an excuse to take in his outfit, dressy pants, a sleek black silk button-up that fits him unfairly well, sleeves slightly rolled to show off his tattooed forearm. Your fingers smooth over the expensive fabric of his shirt, admiring the way it drapes over his frame.

"We look hot," you smirk.

Jungkook chuckles, his hands still resting against your waist. "Totally," he agrees. Then, he snorts. "But the beanie kinda ruins it."

You laugh, reaching up to tug at the edge of it. "No, it's nice."

"Yeah?" he murmurs, tilting his head.

And then, he hesitates for just a moment.

Because he wasn't supposed to give this to you yet, not until the very end of the night, right before he leaves. But looking at you now, glowing in soft yellow, looking at him with that teasing grin, he just... can't help himself.

Jungkook reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing over the small box before he pulls it out and holds it toward you.

You blink, confused. "What's this?"

And then you open it.

A delicate gold chain, thin and dainty, catches the light. Hanging from it is a tiny handcrafted daisy charm, its petals wired with soft yellow crystals. It's breathtaking.

Your breath catches in your throat. "Jungkook..." Your fingers tremble slightly as you lift it from the box, your voice unsteady. "Is this what you were doing earlier?"

He nods, watching your reaction carefully. "Yeah." A pause. "Do you like it?"

You swallow hard, staring down at the necklace, overwhelmed. "Jungkook, I love it." Then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, quiet but certain.

"I love you."

Your fingers tighten around the delicate chain as you look up at him, eyes still wide with awe. "Help me put it on?" you ask softly, already turning around.

Jungkook swallows, his throat bobbing. "Yeah," he murmurs, almost to himself.

You lift your hair out of the way, exposing the curve of your neck. There's a beat of silence, and then you feel his fingers, warm, gentle, brushing over your skin as he gathers your hair to one side. His touch is featherlight, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

Then, he leans in.

His lips press to your shoulder, soft and lingering. The kiss is barely there, but it sears into your skin like a quiet confession.

Your breath stutters.

Behind you, Jungkook exhales slowly, steadying himself before he focuses on the necklace. His large hands fumble slightly with the tiny clasp, careful not to tug too hard. The contrast between his broad fingers and the delicate gold makes your heart clench painfull, because it's so intimate, so deliberate, like he's putting a piece of himself on you.

finaly, he hooks it in place, his fingertips grazing the nape of your neck as he lets the chain settle against your collarbones.

"There," he murmurs, voice low and affectionate. "Perfect."

You turn back around, looking up at him, but Jungkook is already gazing at you like you hung the stars.

Jungkook shifts on his feet, like he's debating something, and then,like he just can't help himself anymore, he reaches into his pocket again.

"I, uh—" He pulls out a small, crocheted plushie, a tiny yellow blob with stubby little arms and the cutest embroidered face. "Here."

Your eyes widen instantly. "Oh my god. You got it?!"

Jungkook smirks, arms crossing over his chest, clearly pleased with himself. "Don't think I didn't see you eyeing it down earlier."

You take it from him, cradling it in your palms like it's the most precious thing in the world. It's soft, hand-stitched, and so ridiculously adorable. "Jungkook," you whisper, looking up at him, "this is the cutest thing ever."

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but the tips of his ears are pink. "Yeah, well," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "Figured you'd like it."

You do.

Without thinking, you hug it to your chest and then,because it's not enough,you step closer and wrap your arms around him too. His body tenses for just a second before he melts, instantly pulling you in, arms locking around your waist.

And standing there, pressed against him, with the tiny plush squished between you. Jungkook holds you tighter.

Jungkook takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as he tugs you toward the door. "Let's go."

You plop the plushie down on the counter, giving it one last squeeze before slipping on your bag. Meanwhile, Jungkook grabs his shoes, sliding them on with ease before reaching for your hand again, leading you outside.

The moment the cold air hits you, regret slams into your chest. The dress? Immediate mistake.

A gust of wind rushes past, sending chills up your spine and whipping your hair into your face. The silky fabric of your dress is absolutely no help, fluttering wildly around your legs.

Jungkook bursts out laughing.

You, on the other hand, are struggling—heels wobbling, arms instinctively crossing over yourself for warmth. "Stop laughing!" you whine, shivering as you try to keep your dress from flying up.

"C'mon, let's warm up," he grins, tugging you forward.

And then, without warning, he takes off running toward the car, still holding your hand.

"Jungkook, I'm in heels!" you shout, struggling to keep up, but he just laughs, pulling you along anyway.

You're both half-running, half-stumbling through the cold, giggling like kids as you finally make it to the car. When you reach the door, Jungkook quickly unlocks it, ushering you inside first before sliding in after you.

The second the doors shut, you both exhale, breathless and laughing, cheeks pink from the cold.

Jungkook shakes his head, grinning at you. "That was cute."

You roll your eyes, still shivering. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe." He turns on the heater, rubbing his hands together for warmth before reaching over and grabbing your hands, bringing them to his lips to blow warm air over your fingers.

"What is your thing with getting me to do these strenuous ass activities? You're the one enlisting, not me."

Jungkook just grins, turning in his seat to face you fully. "Maybe you just have shit stamina."

Your breath catches.

The double meaning is immediate, and your entire face heats up before you can stop it. "Oh my god," you mutter, looking away, but it's already too late.

Jungkook notices instantly. His eyes widen, and then his grin turns downright mischievous. "Wait—" He leans in slightly, inspecting your reaction. "I didn't mean it like— wait, ARE YOU BLUSHING?"

His giggle bursts out, full and bright, and he nudges you playfully while you groan, covering your face with your hands.

"Stop laughing," you whine, mortified.

"I can't," he wheezes, barely containing himself. "That was so unintentional, but now I can't unsee it."

"Jungkook," you glare at him through your fingers, "Youre annoying."

"No, you are," he teases, still giggling, eyes sparkling with pure amusement. "And apparently, you love when I talk about your stamina too."

You shove his shoulder. "Oh my god—drive."

But he just laughs again, shaking his head as he finally puts the car into gear, looking way too pleased with himself.

The car hums softly as Jungkook drives, the city lights stretching into golden blurs against the window. Your legs are crossed, hands tucked under your thighs for warmth, when he suddenly picks up his phone at a red light and scrolls through something. A second later, a melody plays through the car speakers—soft, raw, and hauntingly stunning

It's his voice.

Your brows knit together as you listen, the delicate notes filling the space between you. "Is this yours?" you ask quietly, turning to him.

Jungkook swallows, his fingers tightening around the wheel. "Yeah," he murmurs, glancing at you quickly before looking back at the road. "It's called Decalcomania."

Your lips part slightly as he hums along with the intro, his voice lower than usual, almost nervous. And then the first line comes.

"When I see you smile in the screen

You're good at everything

You're just perfect

Feels like I've never been you."

Something shifts inside your chest.

You blink, watching him carefully now. His knuckles are tense around the wheel, jaw clenched ever so slightly, but he's not saying anything—just waiting.

"Do you even see me?

Do you know who I am?

Or how do I look now?

You don't like me like that."

A lump forms in your throat.

Your mind flashes through the past few months, all the moments you had with him—the teasing, the tension, the way his eyes always softened when he looked at you. But this—this—is different.

"Come and tell me so much, you beautiful heart

Oh, I'm gonna listen to you

Please."

his voice in the song is desperate, aching, yearning.

Your breath stutters.

All the numbers too big

Can't get out of your game

Oh I want to paint it like you

Please

And when he finally risks a glance at you, his eyes filled with a quiet, vulnerable kind of intensity, you know.

It's about you.

He wrote this about you.

I want to be your decalcomania

I want you

I want to be your decalcomania

I want...

I want you

A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. Then another.

Jungkook notices immediately. "Baby—"

You sniffle, covering your mouth with your hand. "Oh my god, Jungkook."

His foot eases off the gas a little as he reaches over, thumb swiping under your eye, catching the tear before it falls further. "Why are you crying?" he whispers, his own voice thick with emotion.

"You wrote this thinking about me?" Your voice wobbles.

He nods, throat bobbing. "Of course I did."

Your eyes squeeze shut as another tear spills over. "I love you," you whisper, voice cracking under the weight of it all.

Jungkook exhales shakily, like he's been holding his breath this entire time. "I love you," he echoes, his fingers squeezing yours over the center console.

You've seriously never been more in love in your entire life.

The drive is quiet after that. soft and, lingering. You don't say much, but you don't need to. Jungkook's hand stays on your thigh, warm and grounding, his thumb tracing slow circles into your skin.

The city lights blur past the window as he takes the highway, then the roads start getting quieter, more secluded. You glance at the clock once, but then decide against it, time doesn't really matter right now.

Eventually, Jungkook pulls into a private driveway, the car gliding smoothly to a stop. Your eyes widen as you take in the restaurant in front of you. It's not just fancy—it's insanely private, the kind of place where the exterior alone looks like a piece of art. There are only a handful of tables inside, and from what you can tell, not a single other soul is here.

"Jungkook," you say slowly, "where is this?"

He turns off the engine, looking at you with that same soft intensity that's been there all night. "A date," he answers simply, lips quirking.

You blink. "But there's literally no one else here."

Jungkook unbuckles his seatbelt and shrugs, like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Yeah. I booked it out for us."

Your jaw drops. "You didn't."

He grins, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I did. Just us."

Your heart clenches so tight it hurts. "Oh my god, stop. This is so beautiful," you whisper, voice barely above a breath.

Jungkook just smiles, squeezing your hand before stepping out of the car. You follow, the cold air biting at your skin again, but you barely register it now. Because as you step inside, the warmth of the restaurant surrounds you, and it's stunning.

It's fancy, but not overly modern. The lighting is soft and golden, flickering from the candles that sit on each polished table. The decor is elegant. earthy, intimate, and with hints of wood and deep, rich tones. It's the kind of place that feels timeless.

"You like it?" Jungkook asks, watching your reaction closely.

You turn to him, eyes shining. "I love it."

And the way he smiles at you then, like you're the only thing in the world that matters, makes you feel like you could cry all over again.

The moment you step inside, a well-dressed waiter greets you with a polite smile. He's young, probably around your age, and smooth with his words, his eyes lingering on you just a second longer than necessary.

Jungkook clocks it immediately.

"Right this way," the waiter says, leading you toward your table. You follow easily, completely oblivious to the way Jungkook's entire posture shifts. His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing slightly, and before you can take another step, his hand finds your waist.

Notjust resting there—gripping.

You barely notice, too focused on admiring the restaurant, but Jungkook does it with purpose. His fingers press firmly against the silk of your dress, thumb brushing against your side, holding you close as if to remind both you and the waiter exactly who you're here with.

When you reach the table, the waiter pulls out a chair for you, flashing another easygoing smile. "Can I get you anything to drink?" he asks, and again, his eyes flicker over you, lingering.

You don't think much of it, you're used to people being friendly, especially after working at the diner for so long. You just return the smile politely. "Oh, um—"

"A bottle of red," Jungkook cuts in smoothly before you can even decide. His voice is casual, but there's an unmistakable edge to it. "Something good."

The waiter glances at Jungkook then, as if only now acknowledging his presence. "Of course," he says, before turning to leave.

As soon as he's gone, Jungkook exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

"What?" you ask, glancing at him curiously.

"Nothing." He leans back in his chair, eyes still subtly following the waiter's retreating figure. Then, he scoffs under his breath, muttering, "Do guys always flirt with you like that?"

You blink. "Flirt? Jungkook, he was just being nice.*"

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. "Nice?" He tilts his head. "Baby, he was two seconds away from asking for your number."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, please. I deal with worse at the diner."

Jungkook looks personally offended by that. "Worse?" His hand finds your knee under the table, gripping gently. "And you just let that happen?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Jungkook, it's not that serious."

"It is to me," he murmurs, eyes dark and unreadable. His fingers tighten just slightly, his thumb tracing warm, lazy circles over your skin.

Your breath catches, heat crawling up your spine.

Yeah. He's definitely not over it.

The moment the waiter returns, Jungkook already looks annoyed. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched, his fingers drumming against the table like he's barely holding back from saying something.

And then, just as the waiter places the wine bottle down, he subtly slides a neatly folded napkin toward you.

Jungkook sees it immediately.

"do you serve all your bottles of wine with that?" he deadpans, his voice sharp enough to cut through glass.

The waiter visibly stiffens, eyes darting between you and Jungkook, suddenly realizing he might've made a very big mistake.

You, on the other hand, have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

Because Jungkook? Oh, he's pissed.

The poor guy turns red, clearing his throat awkwardly before hurriedly snatching the napkin back. "Enjoy your wine," he mutters, practically fleeing from the table.

You round on Jungkook the second he's gone. "What the fuck was that?"

Jungkook blinks, feigning innocence. "What? He left you his number, idiot."

"And?" you scoff. "That's exactly what you did when we met."

"Yeah, I know," Jungkook admits shamelessly, leaning back in his chair. Then, after a beat, he adds, "But it worked when I did it."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a sigh. "Jungkook, it's just you."

His smirk falters slightly. "What?"

You look at him then, really look at him, and squeeze his hand gently. "It's just you."

For a moment, Jungkook just stares. His lips part slightly, eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory.

he smiles. not a cocky smirk, not a teasing grin, but something real. Something soft.

And just like that, all his jealousy melts away.

The food arrives, plated so beautifully that for a second, you just admire it, until you realize how tiny the portions are.

Jungkook immediately gives you a look, like, Yeah, of course.

"This is the type of expensive where the menu doesn't even have prices," you mumble, cutting into your meal. "Scary."

Jungkook smirks, pouring you more wine. "Good thing you don't have to worry about it, huh?"

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your heart flutters at how effortless he makes all of this.

By the time he's ordered his third steak, you're full, but he's definitely not. You can tell by the way he keeps side-eyeing your plate.

"Jungkook," you deadpan, nudging it toward him.

"What?" he feigns innocence, but he's already cutting into your steak with a little too much enthusiasm.

You sigh, deciding to mess with him. Instead of using your knife, you stab a piece with your fork, not at all elegantly, and hold it up.

Jungkook snorts. "You're really about to feed me like this?"

"Take it or leave it," you tease, wiggling the fork in front of his face.

He laughs, loud, carefree, before dramatically leaning forward and biting into it straight from the fork. His teeth chomp down exaggeratedly, and you nearly lose it when a couple of waiters glance over, looking mildly horrified.

"Oh my god," you whisper, covering your mouth. "They're staring."

Jungkook just chews smugly, completely unbothered. "They've clearly never seen fine dining before."

Jungkook polishes off the last bite from your plate like a man on a mission, but then, all of a sudden, his face shifts, his expression faltering for just a second.

You catch it immediately. "Wait... was it too much?"

"No," he says quickly, though the way he exhales after is not very convincing. "I'm just…. I'm just stirring."

Your eyebrows knit together. "You're stirring?"

"Yeah, like—like the food is just settling," he says, trying to play it off.

It takes all of two seconds for you to connect the dots. "Oh my god, you totally ate too much."

"I'm fine."

"You're totally not…" You lean forward, grinning at him. "This is what happens when you eat three steaks."

"Hey, they only served me half each time, so technically it was just one and a half," he argues.

"Whatever you say."

You shake your head in amusement and check your phone absentmindedly when a notification lights up the screen. The time catches your eye. 9:30 PM.

You quickly set your phone down, shaking your head slightly. You don't even say anything, but Jungkook picks up on it instantly. His fingers tighten slightly around yours on the table, and when you glance at him, there's understanding in his eyes.

He doesn't say anything about it. Just gives your hand a little squeeze before suddenly inhaling like he's made a decision.

"Ihave something to tell you," he says.

You tilt your head, watching him. "What?"

Jungkook shifts in his seat, his thumb running circles over the back of your hand. "I love you."

You blink. "You already told me this a million times."

Jungkook shakes his head. "No, I don't think I ever really told you properly."

That makes you pause. You straighten up, sensing the sincerity behind his words. "You did. At the beach."

He exhales a soft laugh, then laces his fingers fully with yours. "I love you so much. I think I've confessed about four times, but I can't help myself. But take this as my proper one."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh, so you just wanted to do it in a fancy restaurant?"

"No." His lips curve, eyes warm as he watches you. "I wanted to do it now. Because it felt right."

His voice drops slightly, a raw honesty slipping through. "You know, I always say I love you because it just feels so easy to say. But it's more than that."

Your breath stills as he leans forward, his gaze holding you in place.

"I love the way you wake up in the morning, all groggy and confused."

"I love how you get excited over the smallest things—like your little weird…pastel yellow plushie obsession."

"I love how simple you are. Not in a bad way—just... you don't need much to be happy, and that's one of the most beautiful things about you."

His voice softens even more. "I love how fun you are. I love how you look, your eyes, your nose, your lips, your hair."

"I love how you talk, the way you articulate things. The way you move through the world. The way you smile. The way you laugh. The way you get mad at me."

His lips curl into a smirk. "That one's kinda hot, by the way."

You gasp and smack his arm. "Don't ruin the moment."

Jungkook chuckles, but his grip on your hand tightens slightly, grounding you. "I love every single part of you. And I want you to know that."

His touch lingers. His eyes search yours.

Your throat tightens as the weight of his confession settles over you.

"Jungkook..." You barely get his name out, your voice whispery, breath shaky.

He doesn't rush you. He just watches, his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand, letting you find your words.

And when you finally do, your eyes are glassy, your grip on him tightening. "I love you so much. I don't... know what I'll do when you're gone."

Jungkook's lips part slightly, his expression shifting into something softer, something deeper.

Your breath wavers. "I love everything about you. I love Jungkook—the idol. The one everyone sees. I love how much you love your fans, how much passion you put into your work. How you once told me you wanted to be an artist, and yet you're already the most artistic person I've ever seen."

He swallows thickly, his eyes not once leaving you.

"You capture things in a way no one else does. With your music. With your stupid, big-ass camera." You let out a breathy laugh, wiping at your cheek before looking back at him. "You always say you're just trying things out, but you don't even realize how talented you are."

Jungkook exhales, shaking his head slightly, but you don't let him deflect.

"But I also love you—you. The person behind jungkook. The person who smiles at me when he thinks I'm not looking. The person who hums under his breath when he's happy. The person who—" You pause, a small grin forming, "—has the cutest little moles."

Jungkook blinks, caught off guard. "My moles?"

You nod, eyes twinkling through your tears. "Yeah. You have a really cute one right here."

Your fingers brush gently under his chin, right over the tiny mole there. His skin burns under your touch, a soft pink rising to his cheeks.

Before he can say anything, you lean over the table awkwardly, pressing a delicate kiss to the spot.

His breath stutters, his entire face now a deep shade of red. "Stop," he murmurs, utterly flustered.

You grin. "You're like a chocolate chip cookie."

Jungkook groans, hiding his face in his hands. "Oh my god, shut up."

You giggle, squeezing his fingers between yours. "Anyway."

He peeks at you through his hands, still completely red, but he's smiling.

And you continue.

"I love your eyes, your nose, your lips—" Your voice softens, "I love your voice. God, I love your voice. I love when you hum, when you sing, when you talk to me about the most random things."

Jungkook watches you like you've just knocked the wind out of him.

"I love the way you treat me. I love that, even though the world sees you as this extravagant, larger-than-life person, I know you're just as simple as I am." You give his hand one last squeeze. "Just a boy who loves music. Just a boy who loves steak way too much."

Jungkook laughs, his eyes shining, his grip on you unwavering.

"Just a boy who I love. So, so much."

Jungkook is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Like you're the only thing that matters.

And for a long moment, neither of you speak. You just sit there, fingers interlocked across the table, your thumbs brushing over each other's skin, your hearts beating in sync.

It's comfortable. It's warm. It's everything.

Until the moment is rudely shattered by the waiter clearing his throat beside the table.

Jungkook scoffs, visibly annoyed, and you quickly recognize the waiter. it's the same one who had been flirting with you earlier.

The poor guy is now shakily reaching for the plates, avoiding Jungkook's stare entirely, but before he can clear the table—

"Did we say we were done?" Jungkook deadpans, one brow raised.

Your eyes widen. "Jungkook," you whisper, kicking him under the table.

He immediately glares at you, but you flash an apologetic smile to the waiter. "Sorry. Do you mind waiting just a little longer?"

The waiter, still looking a little pale, nods quickly. "Of course! My apologies." He scurries off, leaving Jungkook still grumbling under his breath.

You turn back to him, barely holding back a giggle. "Hey, stop. You're literally a kid."

Jungkook huffs. "I don't care. You're mine."

Your face heats up, but you roll your eyes, nudging his foot under the table again. "Oh, shut up."

But then an idea pops into your head, and your grin widens. "Wanna get shitty ice cream again?"

Jungkook freezes. "Oh my god, absolutely not. We are not driving two hours for ice cream again."

You laugh. "Not two hours! I know a place near the diner where you can get it."

He eyes you suspiciously before exhaling. "Fine. Yeah, sure." Then, his lips curl up. "And after that? The field?"

You nod. "The field."

Jungkook grins, and before you can say anything else, you're both getting up.

You run ahead, giggling, and Jungkook follows. his hand immediately finding yours again as soon as you're outside.

You slide into the car with a sigh, already feeling the ache in your feet from the heels you've been wearing all night. Without hesitation, you reach down and slip them off, letting out a small hum of relief.

"Finally," you mutter, stretching out your legs.

Jungkook barely glances at you as he starts the car, but the moment you prop your legs up on his dashboard, he does a double take.

"Hey—!" His brows furrow, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other swats at your ankles. "Get your stinky feet off my car."

You gasp dramatically. "Excuse me?! My feet are not stinky!"

"Debatable."

Narrowing your eyes, you smirk. "Oh, yeah?" And before he can react, you wiggle your toes dangerously close to his face, nudging his cheek playfully.

"*Oh my god—" Jungkook groans, jerking away, but he's laughing. "Stop!"

"Nope." You push them closer, grinning when he lets out a dramatic sigh—until suddenly—

He bites you.

"Jungkook—!" You shriek, jerking your foot back in absolute horror. "*What the fuck?!"

Jungkook is already cackling, his shoulders shaking as he reaches out, catching your ankles before you can pull them away completely. "Sorry," He doesn't sound sorry at all. "Couldn't resist."

You glare at him, crossing your arms, but then he does something that makes your breath hitch.

Instead of letting go, he settles your feet into his lap, his fingers idly tracing the skin where he bit you. His touch is warm, barely there, his thumb skimming slow circles along your ankle.

Your body suddenly feels too hot.

The car hums around you as he pulls onto the road, one hand steady on the wheel, the other still resting lazily on your shin. You lean against the door, your temple pressed to the cool glass, but your focus is entirely on the feeling of Jungkook's fingers drifting absentmindedly over your legs.

His touch is light anf casual but the warmth of his palm sends a shiver up your spine. And, he looks good like this. One hand gripping the steering wheel, his jaw flexing as he shifts gears, the dim glow of the streetlights casting sharp shadows over his face.

you don't think your heart has ever beat this fast in your life.

——

you arrive near the diner, parking a little further away, right outside a small convenience store. The moment Jungkook spots the freezer outside, identical to the one from that little village, he groans, hes so dramatic.

"God, I already know this is gonna be terrible," he complains, shaking his head.

"Look, they have soo many flavors," you counter, tugging on his sleeve. "Come on, let's go."

You reach down to grab your heels from where you discarded them earlier, but before you can even think about slipping them back on, Jungkook beats you to it. He walks around to your side, opens the door like a total gentleman, and then, kneels down. On the actual pavement.

ur breath catches as he carefully slides the heels onto your feet, his fingers brushing against your ankles. And then,he presses a kiss to the top of your foot like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Fucking hell.

You don't even have time to process it because he just takes your hand and starts walking toward the store like nothing just happened. And what's worse? He doesn't seem to care about any of the people who might be watching. It's late, so the streets near the diner aren't too busy, but still. The risk is there. You just don't say anything about it.

the second you reach the freezer, you grab the same strawberry ice cream from last time, earning a scoff from Jungkook. "You're not even gonna try another flavor?" he teases.

"Nuh uh. The strawberry one was so good last time, I have to get it again."

He huffs but then softens. "I'll buy you a million of them."

Your face heats up, and you mumble something about turning pink from the ice cream, brushing it off with a laugh. Jungkook, meanwhile, initially picks vanilla, calling it the "safest flavor," before something catches his eye.

A banana ice cream.

The vanilla is abandoned so fast that you actually burst out laughing as he grabs the banana one instead.

of course, he pays. obviously.

Back in the car, you take a bite of your ice cream immediately, humming in delight.

Jungkook eyes his own ice cream warily “…im scared to try this."

He finally takes a bite, and immediately gags. "Oh, fucking gross. It's gross."

you laugh at the sheer pout on his face. "I thought it would taste good because it's banana," he grumbles.

"Let me try."

You take a bite, and it's actually really fucking good. Before you know it, you've got both ice creams in your hands, switching between them like some kind of dessert thief. Jungkook just chuckles, shaking his head at you.

"You literally just stole my ice cream."

You shush him, laughing it off before he puts the car in drive, throwing your legs onto his lap.

You know it's slightly inconvenient for him because of the gear shift, or whatever it's called—the car stick thing—but he doesn't complain. He just awkwardly reaches over when he needs to, his hand brushing against your thigh each time. You catch the slight press of his lips, the way his fingers flex on the wheel like he's concentrating a little harder than necessary, but he doesn't say a word. And you? You're too comfortable to move.

You watch the city lights blur past, ice cream melting against your tongue, time slipping away faster than you can hold onto it.

And then, just like that, you're pulling up to the field.

Your heart sinks.

Because this was it. The last thing you'd planned for the night. The final stop before what? Before reality? Before something shifts again?

You check the time. 10:30, maybe closer to 11. You blink at your phone screen. It feels impossible. Like the hours had been slipping through your fingers like sand, faster and faster, and now, suddenly, you're running out.

You shake it off before it settles too deep in your chest. No use in mourning something that hasn't ended yet.

The two of you just sit there for a while, staring at the sign ahead, the sky yawning wide and dark above you. Jungkook exhales, leans his head back against the seat.

"remembere how I told you this was where I came to cool off?" His voice is soft, thoughtful.

You nod. “The day you found out I was leaving," he continues, fingers tapping absentmindedly on your shin, "I actually came here."

Your breath stills.

Jungkook turns his head slightly, eyes locked on the field ahead. "From that day, I knew this place would never be the same again. Not without you."

And just like that, the night air feels heavier. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken things. You don't know what to say, so you don't.

You just let it play out.

Eventually, you both decide to actually walk to the field.

It's almost instinct, the way your bodies move, the way your feet find the familiar path without needing to think. jungkook knows it way better than you, he always has, but still, you walk side by side, like you've done so many times before.

The night air is cool against your skin, the quiet hum of crickets filling the space between your words, or lack thereof. And when you finally reach your spot, you notice the subtle changes.

The patches of grass where you've sat before are slightly worn, flattened from past nights spent here. the lights, the ones you strung up together ages ago, are still there, tangled and weathered but intact.

Jungkook steps ahead, reaching for them. He flicks the switch, and somehow they still work.

the glow isn't as bright as it once was, flickering in some places, dimmer in others, but it's enough.

jungkook lets out a small, satisfied breath before turning back to you, taking a seat on the ground. Without thinking, you do the same, not caring in the slightest that your dress is getting ruined in the process.

Jungkook notices, though.

He huffs, shaking his head as he shrugs off his leather jacket, the one he'd grabbed from the car earlier, and lays it down on the grass. Then he looks at you, expectant. "Sit on this."

You scoff. "It's fine."

"No, sit."

"Jungkook—"

"Yeah." He says it like that's the end of the conversation, nodding once like you don't have a choice.

And maybe you don't, because with the way he's looking at you, the way he's already patting the space beside him, you just roll your eyes and sit back down.

And the night goes on.

The night is dark. so much darker than you remember. The fairy lights barely make a difference anymore, their glow faint and flickering, swallowed whole by the vast, empty field.

Silence sits between you, thick and heavy, but it's never been uncomfortable with Jungkook. Except now now, there's something different.

u feel it before you see it. The way his body shakes more than usual, the uneven rise and fall of his chest, the way his breath hitches every few seconds.

And when you look up, you see the tears.

He's covering his face, trying to wipe them away quickly, his fingers pressing into his eyes like he can stop them by force. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, voice strained and broken. "I don't wanna ruin it. Just—just ignore me."

You don't.

Instead, you reach for his wrists, gently pulling them away from his face. He's always comforted you so its your turn now. You've had enough of him apologizing, of pretending he's okay when he's clearly falling apart.

His hands tremble in yours, but you don't let go. You guide them down to his lap, and then you're cupping his face, tilting it toward you.

Jungkook sniffles, blinking rapidly, and before he can say anything, before he can tell you again that he's fine, you press your lips to his.

It's not desperate, not rushed. It's slow, soft, steady. But more than that, it's warm. Safe. You let your lips brush against the tear tracks on his cheeks, wiping them away with every kiss, like you can kiss away his sadness if you try hard enough.

And he sobs into your mouth.

His body shakes even harder, his fingers curling into the fabric of your dress, gripping onto you like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

"You're okay," you whisper against his lips, not sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

But he isn't. Not really. Because the next thing you know, he's breaking all over again, sobbing into your shoulder like he did this morning—like a child, raw and unfiltered.

"I don't wanna leave," he chokes out. "I don't want this to end."

His words come out rushed, jumbled together between his gasping breaths. "I don't wanna leave you, I don't wanna leave my family, I don't wanna leave anyone—"

And that's when you realize.

It's bigger than you, bigger than this moment, bigger than anything you can fix with a simple kiss.

So you don't try.

You just hold him,

You let him bury his face into your chest, let him soak your dress in tears, let him fall apart completely. And when his breathing gets too ragged, when he starts to spiral, you cup his face again, guiding his teary eyes to yours.

"Breathe," you tell him softly.

And he does. Slowly, shakily, he does.

Jungkook sits beside you, knees drawn up, forearms resting on them as he stares out into the horizon. He hasn't said much since he stopped cdying, but you don't push him.

Not yet.

"I don't think I've ever really had friends."

You turn to look at him, your brows furrowing at the sudden confession. His gaze stays locked on the horizon, but there's something distant in his eyes, something lost in the past.

"I mean, I've had people around me my whole life," he continues, his voice low, careful. "My members, my fans... they're everything to me. But I never really had the time to—" He pauses, exhaling sharply through his nose. "I never got to just... be a kid. You know? Goof off with friends after school, sneak out late, fall in love in a normal way."

Your heart clenches.

He finally turns to you then, a small, almost apologetic smile on his lips. "That's probably why I'm so bad at this. At us." His fingers toy with the loose thread on his sleeve. "I've never done this before. Not like this."

There's a quiet ache in his voice that makes your throat tighten.

You don't even think, your arms move on their own, pulling him in gently, and to your surprise, he lets you. He leans into you, head resting against your chest, his ear right over your heartbeat. His breath is warm against your skin, and when he exhales, it's shaky.

"I feel bad for my mom and dad, too," he murmurs after a moment. "I know they're proud of me. But I feel like I was gone before they even had the chance to hold on. Like I ran out of time with them before I even realized what I was missing."

You run your fingers through his hair, slow, comforting. He presses closer.

"I guess that's why I've always been so attached to my fans," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It sounds stupid, but I really do believe they're my friends. It's the closest thing I've ever had to that kind of connection." His thumb strokes mindless patterns against your wrist. "That's why I go live so much. Why I try to talk to them whenever I can. It makes the loneliness feel a little less... heavy."

Your chest tightens at his words.

You've always known Jungkook as the golden boy, the superstar, the performer, the one who shines effortlessly on stage. But here, like this, in your arms, he's just a boy who never got the chance to live the way he wanted. A boy who's spent his whole life giving himself to the world, never knowing what it felt like to have someone to fall back on.

And now, for the first time, he does.

You.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, feeling the way his body relaxes against you, the weight of his emotions finally settling. He lets out a deep breath, like he's been holding it in for too long.

"You're not alone, Jungkook," you whisper, your chin resting against his hair. "Not anymore."

He doesn't say anything right away, but his fingers tighten around yours, holding on like he believes you.

Like he finally has something to hold on to.

"But you..." He finally turns to face you, and the way he's looking at you makes your breath hitch. His eyes are dark, glassy, filled with something too big for words. "You're different. This—" He gestures vaguely between you. "I've never had this before. I don't even know if I'm doing it right."

He laughs, but it's hollow.

"I probably messed everything up, didn't I?" His voice cracks, and suddenly, he's folding in on himself, elbows digging into his knees, hands running down his face. "I should have told you sooner. I should have—I don't know. I don't even know what I should have done, I just—"

His breath shudders, and that's when you realize—he's crying again.

It starts off quiet, just a few shaky exhales, but then it breaks. His shoulders tremble, his hands curl into fists, and suddenly he's sobbing, everything he's held in for so long spilling out all at once.

"I always run out of time." His voice is raw, wrecked. "With everything. With everyone. And now I finally have something that feels—" He squeezes his eyes shut. "I finally have you and I—" His breath stutters. "I'm leaving."

You don't say anything. You just watch him.

Because this isn't something you can fix.

He needs to feel this.

His hands are shaking, so you reach out slowly, carefull, nd take them in yours. Thread your fingers through his. Squeeze. Not to tell him it's okay, not to tell him to stop crying, just to let him know you're here.

And that's when he breaks completely, his whole body shudders, and before you can even process it, he's leaning into you, forehead pressing against your shoulder, hands gripping your waist like you're the only thing keeping him from falling apart entirely.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice muffled against you. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And then, quieter, like it's something he isn't supposed to say. something he knows he shouldn't say, "Please don't leave me."

Your breath catches.

"I know it's selfish." His voice is shaking, hands gripping you tighter. "It's so fucking selfish of me to ask you to wait. To make you wait. To make everyone wait. My family, my fans, you—"

His voice breaks.

"But I—" A sharp inhale. "I don't want to do this and come back to nothing. To no one."

The words tear out of him, raw and desperate.

"I know I don't deserve to ask you this. I just—" He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head like he hates himself for saying it. "Please."

And then, so quietly you almost don't hear it:

He exhales, voice shaking.

"I thought it was just... part of who I am, you know? That I'd always feel a little bit empty, always be searching for something I couldn't name."

He swallows, eyes flickering up to meet yours, wet and shining under the moonlight.

"I never thought it would be a person. I never thought you—" He lets out a weak laugh, shaking his head, like he can't believe it. "—would fill it so effortlessly."

Your chest tightens.

Because it's not a confession. Not in the traditional sense. It's bigger than that.

"I'll be here."

Jungkook stills.

For a moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Then, slowly, his grip on you tightens, and his body sags against yours, like something inside him has given up.

You don't tell him that when he actually leaves, when he's actually gone, that's when you'll break.

You don't tell him how hard it'll be to wake up in the morning knowing he won't be around to tease you, to text you, to steal your food or show up unannounced just to see you.

You don't tell him how much this already hurts.

You just let him hold you. Because you know. And he knows. And for tonight, that has to be enough.

The stars are scattered like quiet secrets above you, and the moon hangs full and heavy in the sky, bathing the world in silver.

Jungkook tilts his head back, eyes tracing the constellations, his beanie pulled low over his ears. He hasnt even fidgeted or hummed like he usually does. He just sits there, looking, like he's trying to memorize the sky before he has to go.

You want to memorize him.

So you do the only thing you can tk save the moment, you pull out your phone, angling it carefully, making sure the screen's brightness is low, and press the shutter. The soft click of the camera is barely audible, but Jungkook still shifts, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

His brows furrow. "Did you just—"

"No," you lie, tucking your phone away.

His lips twitch, like he wants to argue, but instead, he sighs. Then, slowly, he reaches up and pulls off his beanie.

And your chest tightens.

His hair is so much shorter now, it's buzzed, not enough to fall over his forehead, the dark strands shaped close to his head. He runs a hand over it, almost self-consciously, his jaw flexing before he glances at you.

"Looks weird, huh?"

You shake your head before he can even finish the thought.

"No."

His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, like he doesn't quite believe you. Like this is another thing he has to grapple with, another piece of himself he has to let go of.

So you shift closer, reaching for him before he can shrink away. Your palms are warm against his jaw, thumbs brushing over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. He stills.

"You're perfect to me."

The words are so soft, barely a whisper between you.

You trace the space where his lip ring used to be, your fingertips ghosting over the smooth skin. Then up, over his cupid's bow, over the slope of his nose, the arch of his brows, the sharp edges and soft curves that make up him.

Jungkook swallows hard, eyes searching yours, dark and wide. His hands hover at your waist, like he doesn't know what to do with them, like he's bracing himself.

"You know how blind people recognize the people they love?" you murmur, running your fingers over his face like you're memorizing him.

His brows knit together slightly. "What?"

"They touch them. They trace their features with their fingers." Your thumb skims over his cheekbone, down to the sharp cut of his jaw. "If I went blind, I think I'd still know you."

His breath hitches.

He doesn't say anything.

Doesn't have to say anything.

Because the way he looks at you, like you just shattered him and put him back together in the same breath, is enough.

you feel shudder in his breath. The way his shoulders tremble just slightly. The quiet sniffle he tries to suppress but fails.

"Don't ever apologize for this," you finally say, your voice quiet but firm, the weight of it settling between you. "None of this is your fault. You didn't choose this. You didn't ask to be put under a microscope your whole life, to have to give up so much just to do what you love. You didn't ask to leave the people you care about for nearly two years, to put your life on pause while everything else keeps moving. So don't—don't say sorry. Not for this."

You swallow hard, feeling the sting at the back of your throat, but you don't let it break you. Not yet.

"I'll miss you so much" you admit, softer now, fingers tightening slightly where they rest against his arm. "I already miss you, and you haven't even left yet. And I know it's going to be hard. I know there are going to be days where it's unbearable, where I won't know what to do with myself, where I'll hear something stupid on the news or see some ridiculous article, and I won't be able to just text you and ask if you're okay. I know there will be days where you feel alone, where you're frustrated, where you wish you could turn back time or make it go faster. And I hate that. I hate that for you, for me, for all of it."

You exhale shakily, blinking away the heat behind your eyes.

"But you're worth waiting for."

The words slip out easily, as natural as breathing.

"You are worth every single second, every single day, every moment in between. And when you come back, whenever that is, I'll still be here. I don't care how much time passes, I don't care what people say, I don't care if it's selfish or unrealistic or whatever else. You're worth it. And I'd wait a hundred years if I had to."

Your voice wavers slightly on the last word, and you bite your lip, tilting your head back slightly, forcing yourself to breathe through it. You won't cry. Not now. Not yet.

Instead, you look at him, really look at him. At the unshed tears clinging to his lashes, the way his breath stutters unevenly in his chest, the way he clings to you like you're the only thing keeping him grounded.

"So don't—don't waste your energy feeling guilty. Just... be okay, Jungkook. Take care of yourself. Get through this. And when you come back—" your voice catches just slightly, but you push through it, offering the faintest smile, "—I'll be right here.

And then, without another word, Jungkook leans in. it's slow, deep. each movement carries the weight of everything he hasn't been able to say. His hands come up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing along your jaw, feeling the contours of you just like you did, as if he's memorisijg the moment. It's almost like time stops, everything around you blurring away.

when you pull apart, there's no awkwardness, just a heavy silence that hangs between you both. You both know what's coming, but neither of you is ready to say it yet.

Without breaking the quiet, you tug gently on the hem of his hoodie, nudging him down beside you. He doesn't hesitate, just follows you, the pull of the moment too strong to resist.

You lie down together on the cool grass, the sky above slowly darkening into a blanket of stars. The silence isn't uncomfortable, it's the kind of quiet where you both understand everything without having to speak. Your head turns slightly to look at him, and you feel his gaze on you, even if you're not sure if he's looking at the sky, or at you.

A soft laugh escapes him. "You're gonna get your dress all dirty, you know."

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. "You're such a dork."

The teasing lightens the air, and for a moment, it feels like things are just as they should be. He glances up at the stars, but you can feel the shift. he's not looking at the sky anymore. His focus is on you.

"You know," you murmur quietly, "the stars don't look as pretty as they did the last time we were here."

He hums, a sound that vibrates deep in his chest. "Yeah... I think I know why," he says softly, though his eyes are still on you, tracing every little detail of your face.

Because you're prettier than any star in the sky could be, he thinks. he knows.

The air feels a little lighter now. The weight of Jungkook's earlier breakdown lingers, but it's softened by the warmth between you. by the laughter that's been spilling from your lips for the past five minutes over something so stupid.

You notice a patch of daisies nearby. You point toward it. "Is that where you pick them from?"

Jungkook follows your gaze, nodding with a small grin. "Yeah. I usually find the best ones there."

You hum in response before pushing yourself up to your feet.

Jungkook tilts his head. "Where are you going?"

You wave a hand at him. "No, stay."

He watches as you walk over, stepping carefully between the clusters of flowers before kneeling down. The grass is soft against your knees, the air cool against your skin, and as you reach forward to pluck a single daisy from the patch, Jungkook subtly lifts his phone.

The shutter clicks.

You don't hear it. You're too focused on standing back up, brushing your hands over your dress before making your way back to him.

Jungkook watches you, eyes warm, lips slightly parted. You're holding the daisy so delicately between your fingers, like it's something special.

And then you stop in front of him, extending it toward him with the sweetest little smile. "Since you always get me some, here's one for you."

Jungkook stares at it for a second, then at you. Then, his lips twist into a teasing pout. "Just one?"

You whine, shifting your weight. "Jungkook, I have a dress on."

He chuckles, reaching out to take the flower from you. "I'm joking. I love it."

And you can tell he does.

He twirls the stem between his fingers, then smooths his thumb over the petals, gentle. so incredibly gentle. His big, rough, tattooed hand contrasts starkly with the fragile daisy, and something about it is just so endearing to watch.

like he's holding something irreplaceable.

Jungkook twirls the daisy between his fingers a couple more times before he tucks it behind his ear, glancing at you with a playful tilt of his head.

"Do I look cute?"

You roll your eyes, but the way your fingers automatically thread through his hair betrays you. "You've always been cute."

Jungkook grins, leaning slightly into your touch before pulling back with a teasing squint. "You know," he starts, "I always pretend I hate it when you call me cute, but I secretly love it."

Your jaw drops. ", I knew it."

He bursts into giggles, eyes crinkling, bunny teeth showing, and god, he is cute. Like, ridiculously cute. But also hot. Like, really fucking hot. It's almost unfair. the way he can switch between the two so effortlessly.

The rough tattoos, the sharp jawline, the way his hands dwarf yours when they intertwine. all of it screams hot. But then he does this. sits there with a tiny daisy tucked behind his ear, giggling like an actual child, dimples deep, nose scrunching—and he's just... adorable.

The duality is insane.

And, honestly? It's been driving you insane too.

Jungkook is still grinning, twirling the daisy between his fingers when he suddenly goes, "You know, I got my schedule this morning."

You blink. "Oh—what is it?"

He pauses for dramatic effect, then sighs. "Well... I feel like we might be being a little bit dramatic."

Your heart stutters. "What?"

"I can visit." He bites back a smile. "Every few weekends."

You just stare at him. "...Seriously?"

He nods, lips quirking up. "I know, right? Like, when I saw it, I was expecting maybe a day off every month, but no—some weekends i don't have to be there." He shakes his head in disbelief. "And, like, some random weekdays too."

Your brain short-circuits. "Are you serious?"

Jungkook's grin widens. "Yeah."

You don't think. you just launch at him, arms flying around his neck as you knock him straight onto the ground. He lets out a surprised laugh as he lands flat on his back, and you're practically squealing, clinging onto him like you never want to let go.

"Jungkook, oh my god—oh my god!!"

He's laughing beneath you, hands coming up to hold your waist, grounding you. "I know."

You pull back just enough to see his face, his bright, shining eyes looking right at you, and you can't even think straight. You're so happy. So stupidly happy.

He's not disappearing.

Not completely.

“Jungkook—, we have to come back here, And—and we have to go to the diner, and then we have to go to another nice village, but obviously not like the last one—"

You're rambling, voice bubbling over with pure joy, listing off all the things you want to do together now that you can. Your heart feels light, your mind racing faster than you can even keep up with.

Jungkook doesn't say anything, just watches you with this impossibly soft look, his hands still steady on your waist, grounding you. He lets you go on, your voice filling the quiet night air, until,

he leans up and presses a quick, sudden kiss to your lips.

It's barely a second, a light peck, nothing deep or demanding—but it shuts you up instantly.

Your eyes widen

Jungkook pulls back, a lazy, satisfied grin curling at his lips. "You were talking too much."

Then, in the midst of it, Jungkook hums, tilting his head slightly. "Do you think I'll see Nari before I go?"

You blink, caught off guard by the shift in conversation. "I'm not sure... If you want, I can get her to come over in the morning?"

Jungkook nods. "Yeah. I just wanna thank her and say goodbye, you know? She's done a lot for me. And obviously, she does a lot for you. I just wanna acknowledge that."

Your heart clenches at that. It's so him—to think about Nari too, to want to express gratitude even in a moment like this.

"Honestly," you murmur, "I feel like I genuinely couldn't do this without her."

Jungkook smiles, rubbing soothing circles into your waist. "Me too. You wouldn't be sat here in front of me without Nari, so—"

"No." You cut him off before he can finish, shaking your head with a soft but sure look in your eyes. "Something would've brought us together anyway."

Jungkook stares at you for a beat, lips parting slightly like he's about to argue—but then he just exhales a small laugh, a little in awe, a little in love. "Yeah?"

You nod, unwavering. "Yeah."

And it's so cute—the way his gaze lingers, the way his lips twitch like he's fighting the urge to grin, like he wants to believe in fate just as much as you do.

At some point, Jungkook pulls out a cig, shifting you off his lap before he stands up. He doesn't say anything, just moves away slightly so you don't have to breathe it in. You watch as he lights it up, taking a slow drag before exhaling into the night air. The faint glow of the ember flickers in the dark, casting soft shadows over his face. He looks really fucking attractive like this—his sharp jawline, the furrow of his brows, the way his lips part ever so slightly as he exhales.

Something about it, about the way he looks right now, or maybe just the mood of the night.makes you feel a little….rebellious.

"Can I try?" you ask suddenly.

Jungkook scoffs, barely sparing you a glance as he takes another drag. "What?”

You pout. "Please? Just one hit."

"No. Why?" He turns to look at you now, eyes narrowed.

You huff, crossing your arms. "I just wanna try."

"Absolutely not."

You pull out the big guns then, jutting your lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Pleaaaase?"

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Fine. But just the tiniest hit."

You grin, stepping closer as he hands it to you. You take it between your fingers, bring it to your lips, and. immediately regret it. The second you inhale, your throat burns, and you start sputtering, coughing so hard you double over.

Jungkook laughs, taking the cigarette back effortlessly. "See? Told you."

You wave a hand in front of your face, still coughing. "No offense, but how the fuck do you smoke that?"

He shrugs, bringing it back to his lips. "Calms me down."

You wrinkle your nose, still feeling the sting in your throat.

Jungkook takes another slow drag, exhaling into the night before letting out a soft chuckle. "You know, I used to hate how my dad smoked. I promised myself I'd never do it." He shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips. "Look at me now, though."

You watch him quietly, the way the dim light flickers against his features. "To be fair, I don't do it regularly," he continues. "Only when I'm really stressed."

Your brows lift slightly. "Oh... do you feel stressed right now?"

Jungkook shakes his head, exhaling softly. "No, not really. I just don't know when I'm gonna be able to smoke again, to be honest. So I figured, one last smoke here."

You tilt your head. "Do your parents let you do all this? Like, tattoos, piercings, smoking?“

He smirks, turning toward you. "What happened to me being cute?"

You roll your eyes. "You know what I mean."

He laughs, dropping the cigarette to the ground and pressing it out with his shoe. "Nah, my parents never really cared about the tattoos or piercings. That was never a big deal to them. The smoking..." He winces slightly. "Yeah, my mom wasn't thrilled. But she knows I'm not stupid. I don't do it regularly, and she trusts me."

He runs a hand through his hair before letting out another short laugh. "Oh my god, but you should've seen the video that got leaked of me smoking one time. Some fan took a video of me outside a restaurant a long time ago."

"It was weird, 'cause everyone actually backed me up. Like, all the people who usually hate on me were defending me, saying I'm an adult and I can do what I want. It was... nice, for a change."

His voice drops slightly, and his fingers twitch at his sides. "I just wish it was like that for other things."

You know what he means. Relationships. Dating. You.

But you don't say anything.

Jungkook huffs, shaking his head. "I don't know, I just think they pick and choose when to be on my side."

He doesn't look at you when he says it, just stares out at the empty field, like the weight of it all is sinking in again.

Jungkook takes one last drag before flicking the cigarette against the tree, watching the ember flicker for a second before instinctively tossing it to the ground.

You frown. "Jungkook."

He looks at you, confused. "What?"

You just glare at him, arms crossed.

Realization dawns on his face, and he sighs, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Okay, okay," he mutters, bending down to pick it up. He flicks it into a nearby trash can before turning back to you with a teasing grin. "Sorry."

You roll your eyes, but before you can say anything, he steps closer, reaching out to cup your face gently. His fingers thread through your hair, then trail down your arms, gliding over your waist, mapping out every curve of your body in the softest way possible. It's not rushed, not anything more than pure, unfiltered affection. But then,

His hands rest on your hips for a second before giving your ass a… squeeze.

You let out a squeal, swatting at him. "What are you doing?"

Jungkook just grins, tilting his head at you. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

You groan, rolling your eyes. "Always. You always do."

But he just shakes his head, his expression softening. "No, seriously." His thumbs brush against your cheeks, his eyes locked onto yours with that deep, unwavering gaze. "You're so pretty, baby. You' got this simple beauty that just had me from day one."

Jungkook just chuckles, squeezing your waist lightly. "Ah, see? You always act all tough, but you get shy so easily."

As Jungkook turns around, you act purely on impulse. You swing your hand back and smack his own ass, meant to be playful, but the sound comes off way too loud.

Jungkook freezes. His back stiffens, his head snapping toward you with wide eyes and red cheeks. "What did you just do?"

You gasp, barely suppressing a giggle. "Oh, shit."

Without a second thought, you kick off your heels and run.

"Come here!" Jungkook shouts, already chasing after you. His voice is breathless, somewhere between a laugh and a threat.

You're giggling uncontrollably, dodging between trees, your heart pounding as you hear his footsteps thudding closer. He's fast—way too fast—and before you know it, strong arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you off the ground.

"Got you."

You squeal as he spins you slightly, nearly knocking both of you over in the process.

"Jungkook!" you gasp between laughs. "We need to go back, I left my heels and my phone—our stuff is all over the place!"

But instead of responding, he hushes you, his voice softer now. "Shh. Wait. Look."

Then, he physically turns you around, hands still firm on your waist.

Your breath catches.

In front of you, nestled deeper into the forest, is a small, untouched lake. The water reflects the moonlight, shimmering against the dark, creating a dreamlike glow. The surrounding trees cast gentle shadows across the surface, their branches swaying slightly in the night breeze.

What truly takes your breath away, though, are the flowers. Unlike the rest of the field, which was full of wildflowers and tall grass, this secluded spot is untouched—full of daisies, spreading out like a delicate, white blanket.

For a second, you almost shiver, realizing how quiet and dark it is out here. But the beauty of it outweighs everything else.

"Wow," you murmur, unable to look away.

Jungkook's arms tighten around you as he rests his chin on the top of your head, his voice soft. "I've never been here before."

You tilt your head slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah," he hums, his voice full of quiet wonder. "But it's really pretty."

You don't say anything, just lean back into him as you both take in the view. The lake, the daisies, the way the moonlight spills across everything—it's like a hidden world only the two of you have discovered. You stand there for what feels like forever, just breathing, just existing together in the quiet magic of the moment.

Then, you shift forward slightly.

And immediately yelp in pain.

"Shit—what happened?" Jungkook's hold on you disappears instantly as he moves to face you.

You groan, wobbling as you lift your foot. "I stepped on something—fuck—oh my god—"

Jungkook kneels down, his hands hovering over your ankle before he sees it—the small but nasty gash at the bottom of your foot. His jaw tightens. "You're bleeding."

You're too busy pouting to notice how concerned he looks.

Without hesitation, he sweeps you up into his arms, cradling you bridal-style.

"Jungkook—!"

He doesn't give you a choice, already jogging back toward your makeshift picnic spot. You don't even complain, too caught up in the stinging pain and the slight panic rising in your chest.

When he reaches the jacket , he kneels and sets you down gently, immediately crouching in front of you. His hands carefully lift your foot, his brows furrowing as he inspects the wound.

"Baby," he sighs, glancing up at you. "I've got plasters in the car. Let me go get them."

"No—" You shake your head quickly, gripping his wrist.

He frowns. "This will get infected if we don't—"

"Please," you cut him off, voice urgent now. Your fingers tighten around his wrist as you franticaly shake your head. "Let's just wait a little bit longer."

Jungkook stares at you for a moment, reading the desperation in your eyes. He exhales, lips pressing together like he's debating arguing with you, but then he sighs, squeezing your knee gently.

"Okay. Just a little longer."

You reach up absentmindedly, fingers toying with his ears. His earrings are out now, the small holes in his lobes visible under the moonlight. You brush your thumb over them before focusing back on the lip ring, twisting it slightly between your fingers.

"When are you taking this out?" you murmur.

Jungkook watches you, his lips parting slightly. "Tomorrow," he says, then sighs. "But, honestly? I really don't want to."

You pout. "I'll miss it." Then, after a beat, you add, "But... you know, it is kind of annoying when we kiss."

Jungkook jerks his head back, scandalized. "What?! I thought you liked it!"

You grin. "I'm joking! I do."

But you're not done.

A sudden rush of affection takes over you, and you start pressing kisses all over his face, his cheek, his temple, the corner of his mouth. You move down to his jaw, then his neck, giggling between each kiss as Jungkook groans in protest.

"Baby—" he laughs, trying to hold you back slightly, but you're relentless.

"Shhh," you hush, smothering him in more kisses.

Jungkook sighs dramatically, tilting his head back as if defeated. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

You grin against his skin. "I always do."

You suddenly get a very random idea, one so ridiculous you almost don't say it, but then you do.

"I have an idea," you say, a little shyly.

Jungkook looks at you warily, already bracing himself. "What. God, I'm scared."

You hesitate for a second before blurting, "Can I draw faces on your abs?"

He blinks. Once. Twice.

And then he bursts out laughing. "What, right now?"

You nod enthusiastically. "Yes??”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head with amusement, but still, he lifts his shirt a little, exposing his ridiculously toned stomach.

You immediately reach for your lip liner, leaning in as you begin drawing tiny little faces on each of his abs. A happy face, a sad one, a silly one, each one dumber than the last. Jungkook watches you, the occasional chuckle escaping his lips as you concentrate.

then, you pause, tilting your head. "You know, I never really counted before, but you actually have eight abs."

he smirks. "so I go to the gym every day for you not to notice?"

You roll your eyes. "I do notice. How could I not?"

He grins smugly, but before he can get another cocky remark in, you start squishing his abs lightly, pressing on the little faces you just drew. He groans but doesn't stop you, just watching you with an endeared expression.

"This should be your next tattoo," you tease, admiring your work.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "For sure."

But secretly, he's thinking... if you really asked him to, he just might.

He would. 100%.

after, time passes in such a blur that it physically hurts. Every second that ticks by feels like a stab to your chest, like you can actually feel the minutes slipping through your fingers. And as much as it hurts emotionally, your foot isn't doing any better either. The dull ache from before has turned into a pulsing pain, sharp and relentless.

Jungkook notices immediately. His gaze flickers to your foot, then back to your face, and without a word, he starts packing everything up. There's no hesitation, no protest from you, it's like you both silently agree that this is it.

He carries you back to the car, careful and gentle, setting you down in the passenger seat before reaching into the glove box. He pulls out a bandage, his movements quiet but efficient as he wraps it around your injury.

"We'll clean it properly when we get home," he murmurs, securing the wrap.

Home.

You stare at him. "We're going home?"

Jungkook exhales through his nose, not quite solemn, but something close to it. He just nods.

You don't say anything else, just watch as he hesitates before starting the car. He takes his time, gripping the wheel, almost like he doesn't want to turn the key, doesn't want to make the drive back. But then he glances at your foot again and realizes he doesn't have a choice.

The car hums to life, and the ride back is silent.

At some point, you glance at the clock. 1:00 a.m.

Your stomach drops.

Because now, there are only seven hours left.

You swear it was just yesterday that he had seven days. A whole week. But now, it's seven hours, and the weight of it crashes down on you like a tidal wave.

Your fingers twitch before reaching for his hand, gripping it tightly, desperately. Jungkook doesn't flinch. He just squeezes back, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, soothing strokes.

He doesn't need to say anything. He knows exactly what you're thinking.

And so, you drive back in silence.

When you arrive at your apartment building, you linger in the car for just a moment longer, trying to lighten the mood.

"So... what's the plan for tomorrow?" you ask, as if it's just another normal day. As if it's not the day.

Jungkook sees right through you. He knows you're just trying to drag out the moment, to stretch this car ride into something longer than it should be. But he humors you anyway.

"Well..." He exhales, eyes flickering toward the dashboard. "I have to leave at eight. I think they're picking me up from my apartment, so..." He pauses, then looks at you. "If you want, we can go to my place an hour before. I'll show you my uniform—try it on for you." He chuckles softly. "Somebody dropped it off earlier."

You nod, swallowing hard.

"Will I be able to... like, go with you? Drop you off at the place?"

Jungkook's lips press together before he shakes his head. "I dont think so..."

You nod again, this time slower, more understanding. Of course, that's something reserved for his family, his members. ppl who have been through every step of this journey with him. You wouldn't want to pry.

But still, it stings.

Jungkook squeezes your hand. "Let's go."

"Jungkook—"

He ignores you, opening the car door carrying you toward the building, but instead of heading to the elevator, he takes the stairs.

"Are you serious?" you groan, wrapping your arms around his neck. "The elevator was right there."

"What? I'm just showing off my strength," he says, playing it off with a smirk, but you know better. He's just trying to drag out time more, just like you did in the car.

You tease him about it all the way up, and he laughs, but neither of you acknowledge what this really is, one of the last walks up to your apartment together for a long time.

When you finally reach your door, you fumble with your keys, your hands slightly shaking from exhaustion, from nerves, from everything.

"Hurry up," Jungkook teases, standing behind you with a little grin.

"Don’t rush me," you huff, rolling your eyes.

and after a few more tries, you finally push the door open, stepping inside. Jungkook follows, setting you down gently on the couch. He places your heels neatly beside his boots, then walks straight into your kitchen like he owns the place.

You hear him rummaging through the cabinets. "Where do you keep your... uh, antiseptic? Disinfectant? Whatever it's called?"

You blink, watching him from the couch. "First-aid kit is under the sink."

He nods, grabbing it and walking back over to you, determined to take care of your foot before either of you can fully acknowledge the weight of the night.

———

"I can't believe it."

The tears come so suddenly, choking out of you in sharp little gasps, and even though there's already been so much crying today, this feels different—raw, desperate, like the reality is finally sinking in, finally sinking its claws into you.

"You're leaving today."

Jungkook exhales shakily, pressing his lips to your hair, his grip tightening around you. "I know," he murmurs, voice thick. "I'm sorry, I know."

But you don't stop. You can't stop.

"I can't believe it," you repeat, like saying it again will make it less real.

And then suddenly, it's like something inside you just snaps.

Your hands fist into his shirt, and before you can even process it, you're begging.

"Please, please, please—" You don't even know what you're asking for. You just need him. "Please, don't go."

Jungkook swears under his breath, voice cracking, and then he's shifting you—pulling you up, pressing you against him until you're completely draped over his body, legs folded around his waist, arms locked around his neck. He holds you like he's afraid to let go, like if he just holds tight enough, he won't have to.

He kisses your forehead first, slow and lingering.

Then your temple.

Then your cheek, your jaw, anywhere he can reach as he tries to soothe you, tries to lull you.

But you don't stop crying, don't stop pressing your face into his neck and sobbing, and the worst part ishe can't do anything.

There's nothing he can say.

Nothing that will fix this.

So he just holds you through it, rocking you slightly, letting you grip onto him like he's your only lifeline.

And then, after a long moment, he whispers, "I'll be back so fast, you won't even realize I was gone."

You sniff, lifting your head just slightly, eyes puffy, cheeks damp, and manage the softest, smallest smile through your tears.

"You better be."

Jungkook's breath catches, something breaking in his gaze, and then, he kisses you.

And it's not just any kiss. It's slow and deep, laced with everything you can't say. A long, long kiss, and then another. til neither of you can stop.

The warmth of his body is everywhere. his arms locked around you, his breath steady against your temple, your legs tangled in a way that makes it impossible to tell where you end and he begins. neither of you bothered to clean up, too exhausted, too drained, too desperate to let go of each other for even a second. he didn't even pull out, and you didn't want him to.

you fought so hard to stay awake, but sleep stole you both away in the end.

You fell asleep crying.

And so did he.

The diner is buzzing today, but you barely hear it.

The hum of conversation, the clatter of plates, the distant sizzle of something frying in the kitchen—it’s all just background noise to the thoughts spinning in your head.

Jungkook rushed out of Nari’s apartment hours ago, muttering something about a last-minute meeting, and you haven’t heard from him since. Not that it’s weird—he’s insanely busy these days, and you’re trying really hard not to let that little fact ruin your mood.

But there’s only three days left.

Three.

When Jungkook told you he had a week left, you didn’t think he meant he was leaving on Friday.

Friday.

And it’s already Tuesday.

And it’s like time is slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold onto it.

You push through your shift, doing your best to keep up with Nari’s usual antics—she’s thriving off your distracted state, making fun of you for staring into space one too many times—but it’s all so much.

Before you know it, the shift is over.

Nari drops you home, pulling up outside your apartment with a tired sigh. “You okay?” she asks, even though she knows the answer.

You nod. “Yeah.”

She squints at you. “Liar.”

You sniff, and she groans, already regretting asking. “Go call your stupid boyfriend.” She teases.

“He’s not my—”

“Shut up, yes, he is.”

You roll your eyes, shoving her playfully before stepping out of the car. And the second you’re inside, you call Jungkook.

It only rings twice before he picks up. “Hey, baby.”

The sound of his voice makes your heart ache. “I miss you.”

A pause. Then a quiet sigh. “I know. I miss you, too.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying so hard to keep your voice steady. “I can’t believe it’s so soon.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t be sorry,” you say quickly. “It’s just… I don’t know. Are you free right now?”

There’s a pause. “Right now?”

“Yeah, now.”

“Shit, baby, I wish—” He sighs again. “I have to be up early tomorrow. I’m seeing my family all day, so I don’t think—”

“You’re not gonna see me tomorrow?”

Jungkook hesitates. “I can drop by in the morning—”

And then— You wail.

Like, full-on dramatic sobbing.

“Noooooo,” you cry, clutching your pillow for emotional support. “Please, don’t gooo, please, Jungkook, I can’t do this—”

“What the fuck—” Jungkook panics. “Baby, stop—”

“Jungkook, I’m gonna diiiieeee,” you wail louder, rolling onto your back. “I can’t live without you for one night, pleaseee—”

“Oh, my fucking—”

“Jungkooooooook—”

“Fine!” he finally yells, defeated. “ Fine, fine, I’ll come, but only for a few hours, stop crying baby I-!”

You immediately stop sniffling. “Really?”

Jungkook squints at his phone. Suspicious.

“Yes, really, but I swear to god, if I show up and you’re asleep, I’ll kill you.”

You beam, wiping your totally fake tears. “Okay, hurry up.”

But then—guilt.

“Oh my god, wait, you don’t have to,” you say quickly. “I’m sorry, you’re probably exhausted, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s fine,” Jungkook interrupts. “Really. I wanna see you anyway. But seriously. Only a few hours, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I promise.”

You don’t.

But he doesn’t have to know that.

Just like you predicted, when Jungkook finally shows up, he looks exhausted.

His eyes are heavy, his shoulders slouched, and the second he steps inside, he lets out a long breath like he’s been waiting all day to finally be here.

And suddenly, you feel so guilty. “I’m sorry,” you say immediately, suddenly feeling small as you stand there in your hoodie. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, stop,” Jungkook interrupts, shaking his head as he pulls you in. His arms wrap tight around you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deep. “I love you, okay? We don’t have much time left, so I’m making the most of it.”

You soften. “Okay.”

“Let’s forget about it for now,” he murmurs against your skin before pulling back. “I’m only staying till twelve, so, three hours.”

You pout, already feeling the time slipping away. “That’s not enough.”

Jungkook sighs, brushing his fingers down your cheek. “I’ll stop by in the morning if you really want me to.”

Your eyes widen. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

You hold out your pinky, and Jungkook huffs a laugh before linking his with yours, pressing a kiss to the side of your hand for good measure.

And with that, you both settle into your bedroom, climbing onto your bed like it’s just another normal night. You talk about everything and nothing at the same time, just enjoying each other’s presence, fingers tangled together on the sheets.

At some point, you get curious. “So, what do you think you’ll get up to in the military?”

Jungkook hums, shifting onto his side to look at you. “I don’t know. I’m definitely not excited, but I guess it’ll be nice to have a break.”

You nod, listening intently as he sighs. “Unfortunately, I can’t be in one of the fancier units, though.”

“Why?”

“Visible tattoos,” he shrugs. “You can’t enlist in certain sectors if you have them. I’ll probably end up in something boring.”

Your brows furrow. “Wait—does that mean you’ll still be working out?”

Jungkook gives you a look. “Why do you sound excited?”

You sit up slightly. “Does this mean you’ll get bigger?”

He squints. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know—do you want me to?”

Your entire face lights up. “Yes, oh my god, yes—” You bounce on the bed, grinning. “Please!”

Jungkook laughs, grabbing your wrists to stop you from shaking the bed. “I’m already big!”

“But imagine— bigger!”

Jungkook groans, flopping onto his back dramatically. “Why do I feel like you’re gonna make me send you muscle updates when I’m there?”

“Oh, I am,” you confirm, grinning. “Get ready for me to demand flexing videos every week.”

He rolls over, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you down until you’re nose to nose. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters.

You grin.

A few minutes later, you’re perched on Jungkook’s lap, lips fused to his, hands in his hair, completely lost in him. It’s like you can’t help it—like there’s this unspoken rule now that you have to touch him, kiss him, hold onto him as much as possible while you still can.

Jungkook clearly has the same thought, because the second you try pulling back, he’s tugging you right back in, hands firm on your hips.

But you just giggle, pushing at his chest. “No, wait. I have an idea.”

Jungkook groans dramatically, head falling back against the headboard. “Baby, c’mon—”

You ignore him, scrambling for your nightstand until your fingers close around a tube of lipstick.

Jungkook eyes you warily. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, you pop the cap off and swipe the color across your lips. Then, before he can react, you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. Then another. And another.

“Y/N—!” He squirms, laughing as you attack his face, leaving imprints of your lips across his skin. “Stop, that tickles!”

“No,” you say simply, completely unbothered. “You’re cute.”

“Stop calling me cute.”

“You are cute.”

Jungkook groans in defeat, letting you assault his face with kisses while his hands absentmindedly squeeze at your waist.

You grab your Polaroid camera and snap a picture before he can react.

“Hey—!”

Too late. You’re already shaking it, grinning down at the image of his completely kiss-covered face. “Oh, this is going on the wall.”

Jungkook watches as you add it right next to the first-ever picture you took of him—the one where he was buried under your plushies.

The little collection is growing.

You turn back to him. “Okay, take your shirt off.”

Jungkook perks up. “Oh?” He doesn’t hesitate, tugging it over his head in one smooth motion.

You beam. “Good.” Then, you lean down and repeat the process—pressing kisses along his collarbones, his chest, each of his abs—until he’s laughing, trying to twist away from the ticklish sensation.

“Baby—stop, I can’t—”

“Nope.” You snap another picture of him, now covered in even more lipstick stains. “I win.”

Jungkook watches as you struggle to find more space on the wall, eventually just sticking them in random spots. One even goes into your phone case.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“You love it.”

He hums, and then, suddenly, “My turn.”

You blink. “What? No—”

Too late. He grabs the lipstick from your hand, rolling you onto your back in one swift motion. “Stay still,” he murmurs, straddling your waist.

“Jungkook—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, uncapping the lipstick. His touch is slow, careful as he smears the color across his lips. His fingers linger against your jaw, his eyes heavy-lidded as he takes you in.

You’re blushing, gripping at his arm for support.

Compared to how frantic you were before, Jungkook is slow.

Painfully, teasingly slow.

And when he finally leans down, he starts his attack—pressing deliberate kisses all over your cheeks, your jaw, your collarbone, your neck—taking his sweet time.

You squirm, flustered, but he just smirks. “What? You don’t like it when it’s you?”

You grab a pillow and whack him with it.

Jungkook cackles, reaching for your camera. “How do I use this thing?”

You scoff. “Oh, so you’re not a camera expert anymore?”

“I don’t know how to use your kiddie camera.”

You gasp, offended. “It’s not a kiddie camera! It’s a Polaroid, for your information.”

Jungkook grins. “I know how to use it—I just wanted you to teach me.”

You roll your eyes, guiding his hands over the camera. “Like this.”

Jungkook snaps a bunch of pictures of you, grinning at the results. But instead of giving them to you, he tucks a few into his pocket.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m keeping them.”

You pause, realizing. “Will you look at them when you’re gone?”

He shrugs, smiling softly. “Maybe.”

The mood shifts. You’re both curled up in bed now, Jungkook holding you close, rubbing small circles on your back. You feel him shift, checking the time.

“Babe, I have to leave soon.”

You tense. “I know.”

And then it hits you again.

An hour left until he has to go.

Three days left until he’s gone for real.

Jungkook knows you’re thinking about it—he sees it in your face. So he tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I promise I’ll come by tomorrow.”

You nod. “I know.”

“I’ll text you. I’ll update you about everything.”

“You don’t have to,” you murmur. “I know you’ll miss your family, too.”

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah. I will.”

And then you realize—it’s not just you he’s leaving.

It’s his family. His members. His fans.

It’s everyone.

And suddenly, you feel selfish.

Jungkook notices the shift in you immediately, his hand finding your cheek. “Hey. You’re okay. I promise.”

You don’t answer. But you do let yourself relax into him, nuzzling into his chest, letting his heartbeat soothe you. Eventually, you drift off—still covered in his kisses.

Jungkook waits until you’re fully asleep before gently rummaging through your nightstand, looking for wipes. He knows what it’s like to fall asleep with makeup on—it always makes him feel gross in the morning—so he carefully cleans the lipstick off your skin, making sure to be gentle as you unconsciously nuzzle into his touch.

When he’s done, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Then another. And another.

He doesn’t want to leave.

Not now. Not in three days.

He debates staying, but then you stir, your brows furrowing slightly, and he knows he can’t.

So instead, he whispers, “I love you so much.”

And even in your sleep, you mewl at the sound of it, your body immediately relaxing, like it’s enough for now.

Jungkook stands there for a moment, just watching you, before finally slipping out of bed.

He takes in the sight of your room—the little details, the chaos, the way it perfectly reflects you—and he finds himself smiling.

His eyes land on your Polaroid wall, at all the little moments captured there.

He debates taking down one of the pictures you took of him earlier, thinking he doesn’t look great in it, but in the end, he leaves it. And just before he leaves, he snaps one last picture of you—fast asleep, peaceful, his favorite sight in the world.

——

Jungkook drives home in silence.

The whole way there, his heart feels full—so much so that it’s almost enough to distract him from what’s coming. Almost.

But then, the second he steps into his apartment, the feeling changes. He goes through the motions—taking off his shoes, tossing his bag onto the couch, getting ready for bed—but it all feels too normal. Like it’s just another night. Like tomorrow won’t be another countdown to leaving.

And the second he touches his bed, it hits him all at once. The sob breaks out of him before he can even stop it. He curls in on himself, gripping his sheets, his chest aching in a way he can’t even describe.

He doesn’t want to go.

He doesn’t want to go.

And before he can even think about it, his fingers are already dialing your number.

It rings once.

Twice.

Three times. No answer.

You’re asleep.

He knows he shouldn’t wake you up, so he stops himself from calling again—but the loneliness is too much, the silence in his apartment is too loud, and before he knows it, he’s calling again.

But not you this time.

Namjoon answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

Jungkook chokes on a sob. “Hyung—”

“Jungkook? What’s wrong?”

And then it all comes out.

“I don’t want to go,” Jungkook cries, his chest heaving as he grips the phone like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His voice is raw, cracking under the weight of everything. “I don’t—I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to leave her—”

Namjoon sighs on the other end, the kind of sigh that carries years of understanding. The kind that says, I know this hurts.

“I know,” he says softly.

“I can’t do it,” Jungkook gasps, shaking his head even though Namjoon can’t see him. “I can’t—I can’t wake up tomorrow and pretend everything’s fine. It’s not fine. I just—” His voice breaks, and the silence that follows is filled with his quiet, shaking breaths.

“You have to,” Namjoon says after a beat, gentle but firm. “You knew this day would come. It’s not forever, Jungkook.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut. “It feels like forever.”

Namjoon hums, thoughtful. “She took you back, right?”

Jungkook nods through his tears, even though Namjoon isn’t there to see it. “Yeah.”

“Then she’ll wait for you.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens. He wants to believe that—he really does. But the fear is suffocating.

“What if she doesn’t?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “What if she moves on? What if—” His voice cracks again, and he bites his lip hard to keep it together. “I love her. I told her, properly this time. At the beach. And she—she looked at me like I was her whole world.”

Namjoon is quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “Then trust her, Jungkook.”

Jungkook sniffles. “But what if—”

Namjoon cuts him off, echoing his words from when he’d given him advice a long time ago, “Then that’s a risk you have to take.”

Jungkook hates that answer. Because it’s not the reassurance he wants. It’s not a guarantee. But he knows Namjoon is right.

His fingers loosen around his phone, exhausted, defeated. “I watched her fall asleep earlier,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “She was just… there. So warm. So peaceful. Like she knew she was safe with me.”

Namjoon hums again, quieter this time. “And you’ll have that again. Maybe not soon. Maybe not next month. But you will.”

Jungkook swallows down another sob. “I don’t want to do this without her.”

“You’re not doing this without her,” Namjoon corrects him. “She’s still with you. And if she’s the one, she’ll still be there when you come back.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply. He just breathes, listening to Namjoon’s steady presence on the other end. It’s quiet, the only sound their breathing, and somehow, that makes it easier.

Eventually, exhaustion wins.

Jungkook drifts off, his phone still in his hand, with Namjoon still on the line

——

When Jungkook wakes up, it’s to his alarm blaring at 5 AM.

His head is heavy, his throat is dry from crying, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it—he has to meet his family soon.

Without thinking, he reaches for his phone. His fingers type out a message before he can overthink it.

Jungkook [5:07 AM]: hi baby, im coming in like an hour. do you want anything?

No response. You’re probably still asleep.

He sighs, pushing himself out of bed, rubbing at his tired eyes. Then, he hops in the shower, letting the water wash away everything from the night before. There’s still some remnants on lipstick on his chest and his abdomen and he scrubs away even if it physically hurts him to.

When he steps out, he doesn’t check his phone right away. Because if you haven’t responded yet, he’s not sure if he can handle that feeling right now. Jungkook gets in his car, barely even processing the motion of turning the keys in the ignition. His mind is elsewhere.

Two days.

Two days is nothing.

Today and tomorrow.

He exhales sharply through his nose, gripping the steering wheel a little too tight as he pulls out onto the road. He knows today is supposed to be for his family. He’s not mad about it—he misses them, and he wants to see them before he goes.

But at the same time…

He’d rather be with you.

He shakes the thought away, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he focuses on driving. Not like it matters. He still has this morning, at least.

His stomach grumbles, but instead of stopping somewhere for himself, he takes a sharp turn, heading towards a tiny, shitty food truck that he knows has just opened for the morning. The kind of place that only locals know about, nothing fancy, nothing overhyped—just good, simple food.

You’d love it.

So he pulls up without hesitation, quickly placing an order for pancakes and waiting impatiently, checking the time on his phone every other second.

5:30 AM.

He still has time. It’s not enough, but it’ll have to be. His fingers tap against his thigh as he debates his next move.

The field.

His chest clenches at the thought.

Fuck it. By the time he gets his order, he’s already made up his mind. The drive to the field is second nature at this point, muscle memory guiding him as he turns onto the small, secluded road leading there.

When he finally parks, he steps out, stretching his arms with a sigh as the cool morning air washes over him. The sun isn’t fully up yet, but there’s a soft golden glow in the distance, and for a moment, Jungkook just stands there, taking it in.

He wonders if you’re awake yet.

He wonders if you’d be mad if you knew he was here without you.

But he doesn’t dwell on it for long—he steps forward, wandering into the field, eyes scanning for the small patches of daisies that always seem to grow in the same spots.

It takes a few minutes, but he finds them, crouching down and picking a few with careful hands, letting the scent of the fresh petals fill his nose.

And then, without wasting another second, he’s back in his car, pancakes in one hand, flowers in the other, driving straight to your apartment.

Jungkook knocks, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he glances down at the bag of pancakes in his hand and the small bunch of daisies in the other.

It’s almost six now.

It takes a bit longer than usual for you to answer, and he figures you’re probably still asleep. He doesn’t mind waiting.

And then, finally—

The door creaks open, and—

Oh.

His heart clenches so hard it almost fucking hurts.

You’re standing there, still groggy with sleep, wearing a t-shirt that barely covers the tops of your thighs, your hair messy from sleep, one eye squinted shut as you rub at it lazily. You let out a soft yawn, blinking at him like you’re still processing the fact that he’s even here.

And then—

Your eyes widen, fully waking up as you beam at him, and before he can even get a word out, you reach forward, tugging him inside by the sleeve of his hoodie and wrapping your arms around him.

Jungkook barely has time to react before he’s melting into you, inhaling the faint traces of your shampoo as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re so warm.

And it sucks.

It fucking sucks that he only has two days left with you.

But for now—for you, and for himself—he pretends that he’s not leaving at all.

Jungkook expects you to pull him into the kitchen like always, maybe tease him for being up so early, maybe sit across from him at the counter as you both eat.

Instead—

You take the bag from his hands, peeking inside curiously. “What’s this?”

He raises a brow. “Pancakes. And flowers. Duh.”

You smile, stepping closer to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, baby.”

His heart stutters.

But before he can say anything, you drop the bag on the counter and—

Take his hand.

And pull him toward your bedroom.

Jungkook blinks. Wait.

He’s confused for a second, expecting you to sit him down or do something—but you just stand there, looking a little sheepish, rubbing at your arm before mumbling—

“Can you just… hold me?”

His chest tightens.

For a second, all he can do is stare. And then, he tugs you in gently, leading you back to the bed without another word. You follow without hesitation, crawling under the sheets as he settles in beside you.

You snuggle into his side immediately, arms wrapped around his waist, face tucked into his chest, your breath warm against his skin. Jungkook exhales deeply, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his arms winding securely around you.

Two days.

He pretends it’s forever.

The room is quiet.

Neither of you really sleep. You just lay there, wrapped up in each other, lost in silence. Jungkook keeps his eyes on the ceiling, willing himself not to cry. He counts his breaths, focuses on the steady rhythm of your fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against his ribs. Every touch feels like a memory being burned into his skin.

He swallows.

Two days. And then, he feels it.

The slight tremble of your body against his. The way your breath starts to hitch. Jungkook’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head to look at you.

And that’s when he sees—

The tears slipping down your cheeks, soaking into his shirt.

His stomach drops.

“Baby…,” he whispers, heart clenching as he cups your cheek, trying to tilt your face toward his. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer. You just break.

“Please don’t go,” you sob, gripping his shirt in your fists like it’s the only thing keeping you together. “Jungkook, please, don’t—please—”

His chest caves in.

“Baby,” he whispers, his own voice shaking now, his throat burning as he tries to hold it together.

But he can’t. Not when you’re begging like this.

Not when he has no choice but to leave.

He tightens his grip around you, presses his face into your hair, kisses your temple between ragged breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Because what else is there to say?

You keep crying.

Jungkook just holds you tighter, like maybe if he holds you tight enough, neither of you will have to let go.

Jungkook exhales shakily, his forehead pressed against yours, his own tears mixing with yours. Your breath is uneven, your body trembling against his, and he doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to make this better.

So he kisses you.

Soft, at first. A silent plea, a desperate apology. His lips catch your cries, drinking them in like they’re the last thing he’ll ever have of you. He feels the way your hands fist into his shirt tighter, pulling him closer like you want to crawl into him, like you never want there to be space between you again.

And then you kiss him back.

It’s messy, wet from tears, but you don’t care. Your lips move against his with urgency, with something bordering on desperation, and Jungkook groans softly when you press closer, shifting in his lap, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you.

You break away for a moment, but he doesn’t let you go far. He chases after you, lips brushing yours as he breathes out, “Y/N—”

And then you’re kissing him again.

Harder, needier.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepens the kiss, one hand slipping under your shirt to press against the warm skin of your waist. His thumb traces over your hip bone, slow, teasing, grounding himself in the feel of you.

Because this—

This is what he wants to remember.

The way you taste, the way you sound when he swallows down another whimper, the way you need him like he needs you.

And when you shift again, rolling your hips against his, your hands slipping beneath his hoodie—

Jungkook loses himself completely.

Your hands tremble as they push his hoodie up, fingertips trailing over the warmth of his skin. You’re not just touching him—you’re memorizing him, pressing your palms flat against his stomach like you can carve the shape of him into your skin, like you can hold onto him in a way time won’t steal from you.

Jungkook shudders beneath your touch, a sharp breath stuttering against your lips. “Baby,” he whispers, voice wrecked, pleading, but he doesn’t know what for. For you to slow down? To never stop? To let him drown in you until he forgets he ever has to leave?

He doesn’t know.

But then you’re kissing him again—slower this time, softer. Like you’re trying to soothe the ache neither of you can put into words. Your lips are swollen, warm, and Jungkook melts into you when your fingers slide into his hair, pulling, tugging, grounding him.

His hands roam too—sweeping over your back, gripping at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. He feels the way your body moves with his, how perfectly you fit against him, and it makes something inside him snap.

“Please,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his. “Jungkook, please.”

And he knows what you’re asking for.

His hands shake as he peels your shirt off, as he presses reverent kisses down your throat, over your collarbones, his lips mapping out every inch of skin he can reach. His name leaves your lips in a breathless sigh when he takes one of your breasts into his mouth, his tongue slow and worshipful, hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to hold himself together.

But it’s useless.

Because you’re moving against him, rolling your hips in time with the soft sucks of his mouth, and his resolve is crumbling.

You tilt his face up, guiding him back to your lips, and when your thighs tighten around him, he knows he’s lost.

Your fingers tremble as they trace the shape of his face, committing every dip and curve to memory. The slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the sharp cut of his jawline. You look at him like you’ll never get to again, and the thought alone makes fresh tears sting your eyes.

Jungkook notices. Of course he does.

“Baby,” he whispers, voice thick, strained. He lifts a hand to wipe at your tears, but before he can, you’re leaning in—pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He stills beneath you.

He’s always the one giving you forehead kisses, tucking you close, making you feel safe, adored. They’re your favorite—always have been. But now, it’s you pressing one to his skin, letting your lips linger against the warmth of him, as if you can pour all your love into this one kiss.

Jungkook exhales sharply. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, like he’s trying to hold back something thick and uncontainable. But you don’t let him—don’t let him retreat into that quiet sadness.

Instead, you kiss him again. And again.

Soft, lingering presses of your lips along his temples, down to the curve of his cheekbone. Then his nose. His jaw.

“I love you,” you whisper between each kiss, voice trembling but sure. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Jungkook shatters.

His hands tighten on your waist, like he wants to pull you in, fuse you to him, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt. Just lets you continue, lets you map out every inch of his body with your mouth.

You kiss down his throat, feeling the way it vibrates as he exhales shakily, his pulse hammering against your lips. You don’t stop. Your fingers slide beneath the hem of his hoodie, peeling it away from his skin. The fabric lifts easily, exposing the smooth planes of his chest, and you waste no time pressing your mouth to the skin there, too.

His collarbones, his shoulders, the firm stretch of his arms—everywhere you can reach, you kiss. Slow, reverent. Worshipful.

By the time you’re tugging at his waistband, Jungkook is a mess beneath you—his chest rising and falling rapidly, his fingers digging into the sheets like they’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

And when you press a final, lingering kiss to the inside of his thigh, Jungkook exhales a shaky, wrecked, “Baby…”

Like he’s already breaking.

Like he doesn’t know how to survive this kind of love.

Jungkook’s hands tremble where they grip your waist, his breath ragged as you press kiss after kiss into his skin—his chest, his stomach, the sharp cut of his hip. You’re not thinking anymore, not planning. Just feeling. Memorizing.

Your fingers slide beneath his waistband, tugging. He lifts his hips instinctively, letting you strip away the last barrier between you, and you don’t waste a second. You straddle him, chest heaving, tears still streaking your cheeks as you take him in your hand, guiding him to where you need him most.

Jungkook stiffens. “Wait, baby, you need—”

You don’t let him finish.

You sink down in one motion, gasping as he fills you, as your body stretches to accommodate him, as he presses so deep it knocks the air from your lungs.

Jungkook’s head snaps back against the pillow. His mouth falls open, a choked groan breaking from his throat as his hands fly to your hips, gripping tight like he’s trying to ground himself, trying not to lose it completely.

“Fuck—” His voice is wrecked. “Baby, you—shit, you didn’t—”

You shake your head frantically, cutting him off, pressing a palm over his mouth as your whole body trembles. You don’t care. You don’t care. You just need him.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking, your nails digging into his chest. “Please don’t go.”

Jungkook’s entire body tenses beneath you.

Your hand falls from his mouth, sliding up to cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones as you lean in. Your lips ghost over his, but you don’t kiss him. Just breathe him in, feel the warmth of his skin, the way he’s shaking from the effort of holding himself together.

“What am I gonna do without you?” Your voice cracks. A fresh wave of tears spills over, dripping onto his cheeks. “I don’t know how to be without you, Jungkook.”

His jaw clenches, his brows furrowing in raw agony. He shakes his head, like he wants to say something, like he wants to comfort you, but he can’t. Because he doesn’t know how.

Because he doesn’t know how to be without you either.

And then you move.

You roll your hips, slow, deep, and Jungkook breaks.

A strangled groan rips from his throat, his hands flying to your ass, gripping hard, as if he can somehow press you closer, somehow keep you here. His head tilts back, exposing his throat, and you kiss him there, feeling the way he swallows thickly beneath your lips.

You lift yourself up and sink down again, choking on a sob as he fills you, as he stretches you so perfectly it hurts. But it’s good. It’s right. Like he belongs here.

Like he belongs with you.

Jungkook pants beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin, but he doesn’t rush you. Just lets you take what you need, lets you set the pace, lets you use him the way he wants to use you.

For comfort. For love. For something to hold onto when everything else is slipping away.

And when you look down at him, when your eyes meet his—

Jungkook looks ruined.

His bottom lip trembles, his dark eyes glassy, pleading, like he’s trying so fucking hard not to cry, trying so fucking hard to be strong.

And you can’t take it.

You bury your face in his shoulder, sobbing against his skin, whispering please, please, please between every ragged breath.

Jungkook presses a hand to the back of your head, cradling you close, his lips finding your temple.

“I love you,” he breathes, voice shaking. “I love you, I love you—”

And then his hands are gripping tighter, his hips rising to meet yours, and you know he’s losing himself, giving himself to you the same way you’re giving yourself to him.

Because there’s no tomorrow.

Not yet.

Right now, there’s only this.

You don’t know how you find the strength to do it.

To lift your head. To force your hands to loosen from their desperate clutch on his body. To just look at him.

Jungkook is barely holding himself together. His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, his lashes damp, his lips swollen and parted like he’s trying to catch the words before they escape him. But you see it in his eyes.

He’s breaking.

And you don’t have time for that.

You don’t have time for any of it.

So you do the only thing you can.

You push through it. You suck it up.

You exhale shakily, press your forehead to his, and whisper, “Jungkook.”

His eyes flutter shut for half a second, like he’s trying to memorize the way you say his name, the way your breath warms his lips, the way your voice trembles but still holds him.

And then you move.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding on like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart, your fingers slipping into his hair as you rock your hips against him, slow, deep, dragging him into you over and over and over again.

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his hands skimming up your back, gripping tight, his nails digging in just enough to ground himself.

And then he’s breathing it back.

“I love you.”

You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, pressing your lips to his jaw, his cheek, his temple.

“I love you, I love you so much—”

He gasps, his grip tightening, his head tilting back just slightly, enough for you to kiss down his throat, to feel the way he swallows against your lips, to hear the way his breath hitches.

“Please don’t go.”

Jungkook chokes on a sound that’s not quite a sob, not quite a moan, something raw and shattered and so fucking helpless.

And then his arms lock around you, crushing you against him, as he buries his face in your shoulder, his voice breaking completely.

“I don’t wanna go.”

Your entire body tenses. Your breath stutters in your throat.

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go—”

It’s the first time he’s said it. The first time he’s let it slip, the first time he’s let himself admit it—that he doesn’t want to leave you. That it’s killing him. That if he had a choice, if the world would just fucking let him—

He would stay.

Your nails sink into his skin, your hips grinding down harder, desperate, frantic, like you can somehow make him stay, like you can fuse yourself to him, like you can press him so deep inside you that he’ll never leave.

“Then stay,” you whisper.

Jungkook’s breath shudders against your skin, his fingers curling into your flesh like he wants to.

Like he wants to so fucking bad.

He doesn’t know what to do with this, with you, with the weight of everything pressing into his chest like a vice. He’s gripping onto you like you’ll slip through his fingers the second he lets go, like he’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll be nothing but a dream.

“Then stay.”

Your words echo in his skull, looping, endless, clawing at something deep inside him.

He can’t.

He wants to. But he can’t.

And so—he panics.

“Gonna miss this pussy so much,” he mutters, his voice strained, desperate, trying to ground himself in something, anything, trying to fill the unbearable silence that follows his own fucking admission. His hands skim down your back, gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

“Miss feeling you wrapped around me like this—”

You inhale sharply, body tensing, and—fuck.

No.

No, that’s not what you need.

Jungkook realizes it the second the words leave his mouth. The second he hears himself, hears how it sounds—like he’s trying to distract himself, like he’s trying to make this just about fucking when it’s so much more.

He hears the way your breath shakes, how your grip loosens ever so slightly, how you start to pull away—

And he panics again.

“Shit—baby—”

His body moves before his mind catches up.

He flips you over in one swift motion, pressing you into the mattress, his breath ragged, his heart pounding, something frantic and terrified behind his eyes as he cages you beneath him.

Your wide, tear-filled gaze meets his, your lip trembling, and Jungkook’s entire body locks up.

Fuck.

He nearly loses it right then and there. Nearly breaks. But instead—he just moves.

He doesn’t know how to make this better. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to fix the mess he’s made.

So he just— Kisses you.

Soft.

Deep.

He pours everything into it, every unspoken word, every apology, every ounce of guilt, every single part of him that belongs to you.

His hands trace up your sides, slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

Like he’s trying to hold on just a little longer.

Jungkook collapses against you.

All of his weight, all of his warmth, all of him—pressing you into the mattress, crushing you, suffocating you, swallowing you whole.

And you let him.

Because if he’s on you, if he’s in you, if he’s covering every inch of your body with his, then maybe—just maybe—you won’t have to face the sight of him leaving.

“Fuck—”

His breath stutters against your neck, his voice wrecked, helpless, and the only thing keeping him from fully melting into you is the slow, deep drag of his hips, the way he’s sinking into you like he never wants to leave.

Like he never wants to stop.

“Jungkook—”

His name leaves your lips in a desperate sob, your hands clawing at him, grasping, clutching, threading through his hair, pressing into his back, like you’re begging him to stay.

His jaw clenches, his fingers digging into the sheets on either side of your head, his entire body trembling with the weight of his own emotions.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice breaking, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I love you so much—please, please—”

Jungkook’s body locks up.

You feel the sharp, unsteady inhale against your throat, the way his hips slow, the way his entire frame shudders above you.

And then. He moves. Faster. Harder.

Like he’s trying to drown himself in you.

Like he’s trying to answer you in the only way he can.

“I don’t wanna go,” he chokes out, voice thick, breath ragged. His hands find yours, fisting them into the sheets, lacing your fingers together, grounding himself in the way you squeeze back. “Fuck, baby, I don’t wanna go—”

But he has to.

And you both know it.

You barely notice when Jungkook shifts, when he maneuvers you onto your side with him, pulling you flush against his chest, his body curving around yours like he’s shielding you from reality itself.

But you do notice the way he rolls his hips against you, slow, deliberate, grinding against your soaked, swollen folds like he’s trying to commit the sensation to memory.

And fuck—

Maybe he is.

“Jungkook—”

His name comes out in a breathy whimper, your head tipping back against his shoulder, your hand scrambling for purchase over the strong muscle of his forearm, his bicep—anything to keep you grounded.

Because his cock—hot, heavy, throbbing—keeps pressing against your entrance, sliding through the slick mess of your arousal, teasing, toying, like he wants to sink in but can’t bring himself to do it yet.

Like he isn’t ready.

“Shh, baby—” His voice is hoarse, thick with something unreadable. His lips press against your bare shoulder, dragging over your skin, his nose brushing along your throat as he breathes you in. “Just let me—”

His mouth trails lower.

And lower.

Until he reaches your chest.

His arm tightens around your waist as he dips his head, lips finding the curve of your breast, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there before his tongue flicks over your nipple.

And you swear—

It’s not even lustful.

It’s worship.

The way his mouth latches around the sensitive bud, the way his hand cups your other breast, kneading, memorizing, the way he hums against you, like he wants to take his time, like he wants to savor every inch of you.

“Jungkook, please—“

He shudders. You feel it against your spine, the way his breath stutters, the way his hips jerk forward, pressing his length right against where you need him.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, voice strained, mouth still pressing kisses over the swell of your chest, over your racing heart. “I know—”

And then he grabs your chin. Tilts your head back—forces you to look at him.

That’s his breaking point.

Because the second your glassy eyes meet his, the second he sees the devastation mirrored in them, the reality of it all crashes into him.

And he crumbles. “Fuck—”

A strangled sob rips from his throat as he buries his face in your neck, pressing impossibly closer, hips stuttering as he finally pushes inside.

And then—

You’re both crying.

Sobbing into each other’s skin, moaning between gasps of breath, holding onto one another like it’s the last time.

Because it is.

Jungkook’s hand slides under your neck, cradling it, supporting your head as he tilts your chin back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat to him. And then—

He pulls you closer.

Flush against him, like he wants to melt into you, fuse your bodies together until there’s nothing separating you anymore.

“Baby—” His voice is broken, wrecked, his breath hot against your skin as he presses his forehead into the back of your head, lips parting against your damp, heated flesh.

And then—

He opens you up.

His hand skims down, trembling fingers slipping between your thighs, urging them wider, needing to feel more of you, needing to bury himself so deep you’ll still feel him even after he’s gone.

And you let him.

You let him spread you open, let him take you, let him push in harder—

Until he’s slamming his hips against you in deep, desperate thrusts, shaking with the force of it, choking on every ragged breath, every shuddering gasp.

And god—

You’re both crying.

Crying into each other’s mouths, into each other’s skin, tears mixing with sweat as you claw at his arms, at the hand cradling your neck, clinging to him, needing him closer, harder, deeper.

“Jungkook—please—”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore.

To stay? To never stop? To love you forever?

But he does.

And it destroys him.

“I don’t wanna go—” he gasps, voice cracking, hips jerking forward as he buries his face in your neck, body shuddering against yours. “Fuck, baby, I don’t—I can’t—”

You feel his tears hot against your skin, feel the way his arms tighten around you like he’s afraid to let go, afraid to leave, and god—

You can’t stop touching him.

Your hands are everywhere—gripping his wrist where it holds your neck, clutching at his forearm, dragging over the sweat-slicked muscle of his thigh, his stomach, memorizing the hard planes of his body the way he’s trying to memorize you.

Because this—

This is all you have left.

Your hands come up—shaking, desperate—gripping his wrists, stopping him from moving.

And then—

You push him.

Jungkook barely has time to catch himself before he’s on his back, chest rising and falling in unsteady gasps as you hover above him, eyes wet, cheeks damp, tears slipping down your chin.

You sniffle, rubbing at them frantically, like if you just wipe them away, maybe this won’t feel so real.

But it is real.

He’s leaving.

And there’s nothing you can do about it.

A broken sob spills from your lips as you lower yourself back down, knees pressing into the mattress, hands trembling as you splay them over his chest—warm, solid, here.

And then—

You nuzzle into his neck.

Curl into him like you’re trying to disappear inside of him, like if you press yourself close enough, maybe you won’t have to let him go.

His hands find your hips, big and steady, guiding you gently—up, down, slow, like he’s trying to lull you, soothe you, even as his own breath shudders with restraint.

“Shh,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple, voice thick, aching.

But you can’t.

You can’t stop crying, can’t stop the way your fingers tangle in his hair, can’t stop the way your lips press to his forehead like you’re trying to imprint the words into him—

“I’ll miss you so much—”

A sharp inhale against your skin.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me—please, please don’t do this—”

His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, but it’s not enough.

It’ll never be enough.

You sniffle again, shaking your head, pressing your forehead against his, tears slipping between your lips as you whimper—

“I miss you—”

And Jungkook breaks. Because you say it like he’s already gone.

A strangled noise rips from his throat as his grip on your waist tightens, arms wrapping fully around you, locking you against him as he thrusts up, rolling his hips into yours, trying to chase something he doesn’t know how to hold onto.

“Baby, please—”

His voice cracks, raw, wrecked, and god—

He’s getting harder.

Because he can feel it—the grief, the desperation, the fucking longing—twisting into something unbearable, something that only makes him want you more, love you more, need you more.

“Please don’t say that,” he rasps, burying his face in your shoulder, breath hot, uneven. “I love you so much—so fucking much—”

And then—

He takes over.

Because your pace is faltering, your body trembling from the weight of it all, from the sheer, devastating force of what you’re about to lose.

And Jungkook—

Jungkook can’t let you bear it alone.

But then—

Jungkook pulls you back.

His hands come up—big, warm, trembling—and they cup your face, fingers pressing into the damp skin of your cheeks, thumbs catching stray tears that refuse to stop falling.

You resist.

You don’t want to look at him.

You can’t bear it.

But he won’t let you hide. “Baby—” His voice is a wreck, breathless and broken, and he forces your forehead against his, holds you there, his grip firm but careful, like he’s afraid you might shatter in his hands.

“I love you,” he murmurs, over and over, lips brushing yours with every shaky exhale. “I love you so fucking much, I’ll be back, I swear I’ll be back—”

And you just shake your head, tears slipping onto his skin, slipping between your lips as you sob.

“But you’ll be gone—”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

“You won’t be here—”

His chest is heaving, his entire body shuddering beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin as you whisper, “I’ll miss this. I’ll miss you.”

And then he breaks. “I know,” he chokes, voice cracking, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry—”

And then—

“Just—just let go for me.”

It’s not a command. It’s a plea.

Because it hurts—

It hurts to feel you like this, to hear you like this, to know that he’s about to leave you like this.

So you do. You let go. You both do.

You scream.

It’s not just pleasure.

It’s everything.

It’s grief and desperation and love and loss, and Jungkook takes it all, swallows it down as his own release rips through him, as he gasps into your mouth, as he lets go right alongside you.

And then—

Then he breathes.

He breathes into your mouth like it’s his only supply of air, like he’s trying to fill you with everything he has left to give.

Like if he breathes deep enough—

Maybe he can stay.

——

Jungkook is still moving inside you.

Barely.

Just these tiny, barely-there thrusts, like he’s trying to soothe you, like he’s trying to lull you down from everything, from the wreckage of it all.

Your sobs have quieted.

You’re just breathing now. Blank, staring past his shoulder, into the dark, your body heavy against him.

And Jungkook hates it.

He rubs a hand down your back, slow and steady, pressing you closer, whispering soft things against your temple—your name, baby, I love you, I’ve got you.

And then, gently— “Baby, can you lift yourself?”

You just shake your head. Barely make a sound, just this tiny, broken grunt that he feels more than hears.

And he laughs.

Sniffles, still recovering, his chest still shaking from the mess of it all, but he laughs—just a little, just enough.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, voice thick, and then—

He lifts you.

His cock bends in an uncomfortable way, and he hisses, but it slips out, and he doesn’t care—not about the sting, not about the way you’re leaking onto his stomach, not about anything except the way you nuzzle into his neck like you never want to leave.

And then—

“That was really fucking sad.” Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the words cut through the thick, heavy silence, and Jungkook laughs.

Like, actually laughs.

Because, fuck, it really was.

He keeps laughing for a second, shaking his head, still wiping at his face, still recovering, and then—

Then he softens. Then he looks at you, tucking the damp strands of hair away from your face, and says—

“I’m sorry.”

Soft, real.

And then he leans in, kisses your forehead the same way he always does—

The same way that makes your heart ache.

The same way that makes you feel loved.

And you breathe.

You breathe, and you whisper, “I know. I’m sorry for breaking down like that. I don’t know why—”

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head, firm. “No, you’re not the one who should be sorry right now. It’s me.”

And for a second, you don’t say anything.

You just look at him—his wet lashes, his swollen lips, the raw emotion still lingering in his eyes—

And then—

You press a kiss to his forehead.

Just soft. Just gentle.

And Jungkook freezes. Because you’ve never done that before.

His breath catches, his eyes flicker shut, and when he exhales, it’s shaky, but so, so full of warmth. Jungkook doesn’t say anything at first. He just breathes, coming down from the high of you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your bare hip, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin.

And then he sees the time.

Shit.

He doesn’t let you notice, though. He forces himself to stay in the moment for a little longer, brushing your hair back, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before he sits up, slipping out of bed.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You let him, let him help you into the bathroom, let him be gentle with you. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just wets a washcloth and runs it over your skin, his touch careful, reverent. He presses another kiss to your forehead before handing you a fresh pair of clothes.

“Go eat,” he says. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

You don’t argue, slipping into the kitchen while he gathers himself. When he finally comes out, you’re already halfway through your now cold pancakes, sitting on the counter, swinging your legs absentmindedly.

He watches you for a second, committing it to memory.

Then, finally, he checks the time.

Eight. He’s already late.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Baby, I gotta go.”

You pause mid-bite, your expression dropping just slightly before you school it into something neutral. “Oh,” you say. “Right.”

Jungkook steps between your legs, hands coming up to hold your face. You lean into his touch immediately, and something about it makes his chest ache.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheek.

You know he doesn’t just mean tonight.

You nod, forcing a small smile. “You’ll text me?”

“Of course.”

And then he kisses you, slow and lingering, like he’s trying to make it last. Like he wants you to remember.

You will.

Jungkook lingers in the doorway, looking at you like he doesn’t want to leave. Like he’s willing himself to step out, to break the moment before it breaks him.

“I love you,” he says, voice soft.

Your throat tightens. “I love you too.”

He presses one last kiss to your forehead, squeezing your waist before finally pulling away.

“Bye, baby,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. “Bye.”

And then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut, and you just… stare at it.

You don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the counter, breakfast forgotten, staring at the empty space where Jungkook just was.

It’s weird.

For the past few months, every single day has had him in it. Whether it was just a text or a call or him physically showing up, he was always there.

And now, in two days, he won’t be.

Your stomach twists, and just as the overwhelming realization starts sinking in—

Your ringtone blares from your bedroom.

You already know who it is before you even check.

You scramble for your phone, pressing it to your ear.

“Hey, bitch, you getting ready?”

You barely have time to answer before your voice wobbles. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause.

“You sound sad,” Nari says suspiciously. “What’s up?”

And then— The floodgates open.

“I don’t want him to go,” you wail, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Oh—”

“I don’t, Nari! I really, really don’t!”

There’s a shuffle on the other end, like she’s sitting up straighter. “Oh, babe…”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I just— We just—” You suck in a breath, chest aching. “It was so much. It was—” You shake your head, unable to find the words. “It wasn’t just sex, it was—God, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

“Like love?” Nari offers gently.

You let out a watery laugh. “Yeah. Like love.”

She sighs, softer this time. “I know.”

“I can’t believe he’s leaving,” you whisper, staring blankly at your reflection in the mirror. Your mascara is already smudged again. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to wake up and not have him here. I don’t want to go back to how it was before—”

“You won’t,” Nari interrupts. “Even if he’s gone for a while, it’s not the same as before. He’s yours now, isn’t he?”

You open your mouth, then close it. Because… is he?

You’ve never said it out loud. Never defined it. But it feels like he is. Right?

“…God, I don’t know anymore,” you groan, rubbing your hands down your face. “I hate him.”

“You don’t,” she says simply.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

You huff, frustrated. “That’s the problem!”

Nari laughs, and despite everything, you find yourself smiling weakly.

A beat of silence. Then, gently, “You’ll be okay, babe. I promise.”

You take a deep breath, trying to believe her. “I’ve had to redo my mascara, like, seven times.”

She groans. “And you’re gonna redo it an eighth if you keep crying. Now hurry up before our boss has another meltdown.”

You sigh, sniffing one last time. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“…No, I don’t.”

“That’s my girl. Love you, bye.”

You close your eyes. “Love you, bye.”

You hang up, taking another deep breath, shaking off the sadness.

Work. You just have to get through work.

You pick up your mascara again. Round eight.

Nari pulls up to your building, glancing at you with a smug grin. You really didn’t wanna get the bus today, so Nari had kindly offered to take you.

“You look pitiful,” she says.

You groan, throwing your head back against the seat. “I literally just was crying, that’s not my fault.”

“No, it’s Jungkook’s.”

You glare at her. “So are you driving me to work, or what?”

She hums, dragging it out, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of effort.”

“Nari.”

“Maybe if you beg.”

You groan. “Pleaseeee, oh my god, you know you were gonna take me anyway—”

She smirks, finally shifting gears. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

“You’re a demon,” you grumble, crossing your arms as she pulls out.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

Unfortunately.

The drive is short, and Nari makes sure to grab your face before you step out, inspecting you like a concerned mother.

“Okay, you look fine. Let’s go.”

You drag yourself inside, already dreading the day.

The morning is slow, as usual. The diner hums with the same familiar sounds—the coffee machines, the occasional chatter, the soft rustling of newspapers from the old man who sits in the corner every morning without fail.

You’re zoning out, trying to will yourself to get back into your normal routine when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Jungkook [9:14AM]: are you at work rn? you probably are. just checking in.

You bite your lip, quickly typing back.

You [9:15AM]: yeah, just started. slow morning. where are you now?

It doesn’t take him long to reply.

Jungkook [9:15AM]: im close to my parents house now. kinda excited actually. but i miss you.

Your chest tightens a little.

You [9:16AM]: i miss you too.

You keep texting back and forth for a bit—him telling you about his plans for the day, you filling him in on how your boss has already screamed about a missing bag of coffee beans. It feels normal. Comfortable. Like he’s still here.