22 HOURS AND 45 MINUTES BEFORE THE WEDDING.

The universe used to deceive, toy with — or any similar synonym for the previously mentioned words — people; in books, it was seen and welcomed as part of development, character growth, and no one could predict whether it was something good or bad, you simply had to finish reading. — It was inviting, provoking a desire to discover the ending.

In real life — specifically, in your reality — fate could change moods in the blink of an eye, like a grumpy teacher who suddenly becomes the kindest person alive; then, just as quickly, their true “face” returns, and there stood the same old green grouch. — Fate enjoyed playing tricks, putting on little spectacles for you; shows that genuinely caught you by surprise.

It was like any old black-and-white French film, ancient yet somehow rated four and a half stars; not to mention the critical reviews endlessly referenced by the audience. — Good things happened, but without you even noticing, a massive storm was beginning to form, and there was neither an umbrella nor an open store nearby to shelter in.

Alright, maybe — a miserable and terribly suspicious maybe — you could be exaggerating; adding an unnecessary dramatization, something considered “intriguing” for a reader. It was ridiculous, strange to think about, but you refused to blame yourself for it; on the contrary, the blame belonged to the alcohol from the drinks you had tasted.

No, the blame was Chisa’s; she had invited you, along with Juria, to sample the drinks she requested for the after-wedding party. — There were countless beverages, including your favorites, which you practically begged them to serve; you weren’t drunk, but the familiar dizziness brought on by alcohol refused to leave you alone. The bride was getting her bridesmaids tipsy before the wedding — what a catastrophe!

“If the marriage depends on this one…” — Your voice was low, unable to hide the exaggerated amusement caused by the alcoholic drinks you had consumed earlier. You were referring to the newest cocktail on the menu. — “I regret to inform you, but you two are getting divorced in six months.”

Juria nearly spat out her drink; Chisa opened her mouth in theatrical shock but quickly burst into laughter, lightly shoving your arm as she joined in on the joke.

“Shut up! Namjoon spent half an hour choosing that flavor.”

Again, you weren’t drunk; stepping away from the warm little bar — somewhat minimalist, considering it wasn’t the actual wedding bar space; it was painfully obvious it had been put together at the last minute. Typical Chisa idea. — without stumbling, though dangerously close to wandering somewhere you weren’t supposed to be or allowed to enter.

No one would want to have their sleep interrupted — or anything else, really, you never know — by a stranger at this hour. Actually, what time was it? — In any case, you would hate to act like Hoseok at Jin’s wedding; according to your friends’ retellings, he had tried to break down one of the apartment doors in his building because he thought the lock was broken.

Yeah, you definitely did not want to reach that point.

Silently thanking yourself for not choosing tight shoes for a simple outing with your friends, you followed the path back to your room. The hallway of the hotel chosen and reserved by the couple for their guests to stay in — you couldn’t deny that it resembled a small, dazzling private village; surrounding the resort were countless places and attractions worth visiting. — was empty, wrapped in a silence that was hardly bothersome; it was comforting, leaving only the sound of your footsteps echoing softly.

Despite the noises made by the wedding planners and organizing staff somewhere in the distance — far enough that no one could complain or protest against the sound — occasionally drifting through the halls, nothing bothered you.

From all indications, you were about to have one of the best nights of sleep in your life; well, at least that was what you hoped, mentally crossing your fingers that anxiety and slight desperation over the wedding would not keep you awake all night. — Placing your bridesmaid dress beside you on the bed, wondering whether there was any possibility you might catch the bouquet and what exactly you would do if you did, whether Taehyung would truly go through with the speech he kept promising to make.

Would you even be a good bridesmaid? It was your first time. What if your dress suddenly didn’t fit you anymore?

Be honest, especially with yourself; none of the things mentioned truly disturbed you — aside from the speech your friend claimed he would deliver at Namjoon’s wedding, specifically — none of it could genuinely irritate or destabilize you. They were trivial events, things that might worry you in a ridiculous way, but that could easily be solved after taking a deep breath. They were refutable concerns.

“He’s going to be Nam’s best man. Don’t make that face, you’re adults.” — Chisa had warned you days, weeks earlier, almost casually, as though she hadn’t just dropped one of mankind’s greatest catastrophes into your lap.

There was no need to mention his name to know exactly who the bride was talking about; wow, wonderful.

Adults, sure. — Adults who had broken up two years and two months ago — specifically, two years and two months — and who, for some contradictory and painfully lingering reason, had never truly drifted apart or cut contact; it didn’t make sense, honestly, it was almost shameless. — You never blocked each other on social media, never deleted each other’s phone numbers; though that did not mean you texted or called one another.

Sometimes, in rare moments, you would receive a notification that he had liked a photo, viewed a story, or simply clicked on a music link you had shared with your followers; it would be foolish to claim you never returned the gesture. You liked his photos too, videos of Bam.

Small things, insignificant enough to satisfy the both of you, pretending they meant nothing. And maybe they truly meant nothing.

You had broken up — there was no betrayal, no screaming match, no catastrophic fight that left both of you wounded; the feeling of loss and distance had slowly built itself into the relationship, fueled by financial responsibilities and the executive position he inherited from his father in the family company located in another city. No one stopped it, no one asked the other to fight against it; a terrible mistake, and not one made by you. — yet the door between you remained slightly open; neither of you brave enough to fully open it, nor courageous enough to finally shut it.

“I spent months planning my wedding and, honestly? My greatest entertainment is still watching you two pretend it’s completely over.”

Jesus Christ, what monumental stupidity.

“Shit, did i lose…?” — you muttered, feeling suffocated while searching through your small purse for the card. The tiny object — the key to entering your room — was probably right beneath your nose, yet somehow impossible to find. — “Don’t tell me i’ll have to…” — “sleep with Juria,” You would have finished saying had you not finally spotted the card tucked between your wallet.

A sweet sense of peace awaited you; grabbing your phone, you noticed several message notifications from the girls, along with someone requesting to follow you. You could worry about that later. — The clock read 9:25 P.M; honestly, you thought it was much later.

Before sliding the access card into the door, you heard another door close, the sound echoing through the hallway. Naturally, you were not going to check or look at whoever had stepped out of their room, but there was a strange urge compelling you to see who it was; another regret to add to your list.

Lifting your heavy, sleepy eyes, your shoulders stiffened, frozen in place. Under different circumstances, you might have dropped your purse onto the floor or simply opened your door and thrown yourself inside the room in the purest act of desperation.

Jungkook was there, only a few feet away from you.

He was leaving the room almost right beside yours, with only two rooms separating them — like some cruel and malicious joke played by fate itself; you wished you could feel surprised, or at least fake the shock, but you had grown accustomed to fate’s particular behavior toward you. — Well, it wasn’t as though you hadn’t been warned.

His hand still rested on the doorknob, as if he had forgotten what he was about to do, where he was going, or whether he had left something behind in the room but felt too embarrassed to go back for it; classic Jungkook behavior, from what you remembered.

He was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing his tattooed arm; the first few buttons were undone, and his hair sat in a soft, slightly messy style. — It was a new haircut; the last time Jungkook had posted a picture of himself, his hair had been a little longer. It was a simple image, ordinary, nothing overly elegant, yet enough to make your stomach twist; that familiar tightness forming like a knot inside you. Funny — and painfully vulnerable — how your body could remember the damn man before your mind even had the chance to react.

No, the alcohol was to blame.

Jungkook’s lips, along with the piercing — he had removed the labret, you noticed while shamelessly staring at him — curled into a small, inviting smile; he looked like someone who had never hurt a miserable fly in his entire life.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

“I wasn’t hiding.” — Your response came out too quickly, sharper than necessary against his low, amused tone, clearly attempting to break the tension; it was desperation, nervousness, and irritation at having to explain yourself to your ex-boyfriend. Because it was true, you were not hiding; merely avoiding running into Jungkook anywhere in this hotel.

You hadn’t seen him since arriving, despite knowing he would obviously be attending the wedding. It wasn’t your fault that you had spent practically the entire day avoiding common areas where the two of you might cross paths, occupying yourself with every microscopic detail of the wedding planning or anything your best friend might need. — You were pretending Jungkook didn’t exist, that he was merely a character inserted to “fill a gap” in the story.

But apparently, that strategy had not worked very well.

“Seriously?” — he asked, arching an eyebrow. That gesture was ridiculously irritating and familiar. Back when you were together, it had been even worse; whenever he frowned, his lips would form a pout and the labret only enhanced the offended, childish expression. — “All this time since i got here, and i only manage to see you now?”

The keycard remained in your hand, and the idea of leaving him there without giving any explanation sounded incredibly tempting. Looking away — unfortunately — your eyes landed on the tattoos covering his arm; Jungkook had countless tattoos, and now that you noticed more carefully, some had been covered with new designs. There was barely any empty space left for more.

Running a hand through your hair, unable to suppress the annoyance and exhaustion growing beneath the tension between you and Jungkook, you finally turned toward him.

“Well, i’ve been busy.” — You tried to sound casual. Jungkook was still smiling at you, and after releasing the doorknob, he took a few small steps closer. God, you wanted to throw your purse directly at that pretty face. — “Just like you…?”

“Namjoon needed help with a few things.”

“Of course.” — You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head. — “You’re always helping everyone.” — The words came out more bitter than intended, completely by accident; both of you noticed immediately. Jungkook’s smile faded slightly, though it never fully disappeared.

Your name left his lips softly, as though it were something delicate, something meant to be handled with care; you would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed hearing him say your name like that. You swallowed hard, a knot threatening to form in your throat.

“Jungkook…” — He was leaning against the wall beside your door, close to you, arms crossed over his chest; his biceps were practically begging for your attention, and you were trapped in a dead end. — “I can tell when you’re trying to annoy me.”

“And i can tell it still works, doesn’t it?”

“Good night, Jungkook.” — It was your attempt to end the conversation, or whatever this thing between you could even be called; you assumed he would simply return the greeting and leave you alone. Of course, Jungkook only bit down on his lip to suppress a sly smile and failed miserably. — “My God, you haven’t changed at all.”

“You expected me to change?” — There was a clever sort of curiosity in Jungkook’s voice, as though he expected a convincing answer, perhaps something slightly egotistical; maybe he simply was not in the mood tonight.

“I expected you to mature.” — The hurt still lived inside your chest, endlessly circulating there, and you hated being unable to disguise it, to hide it away; the feeling only seemed to grow stronger, especially considering you had never completely cut contact with Jeon and now, at this very moment, had run directly into him. — “That’s all.”

“Because we break up?” — The bitterness hit you all over again; your jaw tightened, your body growing tense once more and… sad? Seriousness and composure had settled over Jungkook’s expression. — “How predictable.”

“Once again, good night, Jungkook.” — Sliding the card into the slot to unlock the door, your room finally opened before you, silently inviting you inside to rest for as long as necessary. You lifted your head toward the older, still leaning lazily against the wall, and gifted him a polite smile.

You made no effort to hide the fact that his words had hurt you; discomfort mixed with embarrassment in the stiffness of your posture. Right now — and preferably until the end of the wedding — you wanted no more conversations, no more teasing remarks from Jeon. It was enough.

“Good night.” — He said your name slowly while watching you step fully inside the room. You did not look back, which was probably for the best, and shut the door directly in Jungkook’s face; from the moment you entered your room, he no longer existed.

At least, that was what you tried to convince yourself was true.

taehyung (9:56 P.M.): guys

taehyung (9:56 P.M.): i lost the speech copy. i think i accidentally deleted it..

yoongi (9:59 P.M.): congratulations

9 HOURS AND 45 MINUTES BEFORE THE WEDDING.

“So…” — Juria scrolled through her phone, busy posting a picture of the beautifully arranged breakfast table; the hotel’s reception area was impeccably stunning. Wondering how much the couple had spent felt both inevitable and slightly rude. — “You texted me at two in the morning and then disappeared.” — She didn’t even look up at you, completely focused on her post. — “Like, ‘something happened’ and then nothing?”

“I ran into Jungkook in the hallway last night.” — You took a sip of your coffee while waiting for your friend’s reaction; Juria froze, lowering her phone and placing it beside her cup.

“What?” — Her eyes widened in shock. — “I knew this was going to happen!” — She declared with such confidence that it immediately made you roll your eyes.

“Before you ask anything, nothing happened.” — Juria raised an eyebrow, clearly refusing to believe a single word coming out of your mouth; she knew perfectly well that you and Jungkook did not simply “run into each other” and leave it at that.

“Nothing?” — She repeated suspiciously. — “Judging by your face, and by how well I know you, that’s a lie.” — You let out an annoyed sigh, crossing your arms. — “How long are you two going to keep doing this?”

“Juria, please…” — You pressed your fingers against the side of your head, already unable to tolerate your friend’s comments. — “He just… appeared out of nowhere! And he kept acting like nothing had happened between us, like it was casual, normal for us to meet in that hallway.”

Deep down, you knew it had been casual; in the end, it meant nothing.

“And here we go again.” — She muttered, bringing a glass of pineapple juice to her lips while slowly shaking her head as she listened to you. The group of friends you and Jungkook shared still found endless entertainment in this old story.

You would never bet against them; especially not when they probably believed something could happen between you and Jeon during this wedding. — To make matters worse, the bride herself was likely encouraging it.

“Sweetheart…” — Juria softly said your name. — “Our best friend’s wedding is in less than ten hours. Forget about him, at least until the party’s over.” — The woman rested her hand gently over yours. — “I hate seeing you make that face instead of enjoying a place like this.”

Juria shrugged; she knew she was right and hated the emotional mess that man had left inside you. But she also knew there was still a small spark burning in your chest whenever it came to Jungkook. She knew you better than anyone — knew how much his presence could both disturb you and feel painfully absent at the same time.

“You have every right to still be upset, he hurt you.” — she continued. — “But the two of you still keep contact in every possible way. That’s basically like leaving the wound open and pouring alcohol on it.”

You stayed quiet; you hated when Juria’s lectures actually made sense and left you feeling embarrassed. — Sighing, you lifted your eyes to meet her face and offered a soft smile, silently signaling that you understood the message she was trying to give you; suddenly, Juria’s eyes widened.

“Don’t look behind you.”

“What?” — you asked, frowning in confusion at your friend’s reaction.

“Jungkook’s coming this way right now.” — The second you heard his name, you shot up from your chair and let go of Juria’s hand; reacting in pure panic, like a child caught doing something wrong. A second later, Juria burst into laughter. — “Oh my God, you actually fell for that?”

“Fuck you, Juria.”

2 HOURS AND 39 MINUTES AFTER THE WEDDING.

Two hours and nearly forty minutes after the ceremony — which, without any exaggeration on your part, had been magnificent and deeply emotional; a heavy warmth filled your chest while watching one of your best friends get married. It had been impossible to hold back tears and, for the first time, you genuinely did not care whether your makeup got ruined. — Chisa and Namjoon’s wedding had evolved from an elegant and highly praised event into a gathering of dangerously excited friends with unlimited access to alcohol and music.

The ballroom was euphoric, chaotic in the best way possible. The decorations remained impeccable, of course, flowers covering every corner while songs played one after another; the guests danced and celebrated as if nobody in that room had responsibilities or a life waiting for them the next day. — And honestly, everyone was right to do so. It was a moment worth celebrating.

Actually, making a mental note to yourself, you needed to congratulate Namjoon on the DJ choice; there was truly nothing to complain about when it came to the flawless summer electrohits playlist.

At the table closest to the bar and slightly near the dance floor, the situation had become amusing — something classic and painfully typical of “bridesmaids and groomsmen at a wedding.” The group of friends had gathered to gossip, judge, and relive everything that had happened during the ceremony and beyond; apparently, not everyone forgot certain moments so easily in this life. Maybe the newlyweds were somewhere wondering how much fun they could have been having with all of you instead.

Half the group was visibly drunk; the other half was pretending they weren’t.

Sitting between Yoongi and Jimin, you were holding what you believed to be your fourth drink of the evening; and frankly, it was incredibly rude to ask a woman how many drinks she had consumed. While listening — or at least attempting to — to Taehyung and Hoseok’s conversation, the topic centered around the damn speech Taehyung had lost from his phone notes and somehow managed to rewrite in less than twenty-four hours. — Which was honestly impressive.

“So that’s why you woke up so late?” — Juria asked, seated beside Hoseok while grabbing one of the little desserts a waiter had placed on the table. — “You spent the entire night rewriting it?”

“I swear i don’t even know how i deleted that shit.” — Taehyung covered his face with both hands. — “It was bizarre! One second i looked and it was there, then the next second, POOF…” — He gestured dramatically, mimicking a magic trick to demonstrate the disappearance of the text. — “gone.”

“Want to bet he probably archived the folder and just didn’t notice?” — Yoongi whispered in your ear; he seemed far more sober than everyone else sitting at the table. In response, you laughed softly and nodded in agreement.

The conversations changed every two minutes, always ending in loud laughter and childish threats. Clearly, no one was in any condition to continue a responsible topic; you felt a slight amount of pity for the other guests seated near your table.

“One of Namjoon’s aunts flirted with me.” — Jimin loosened his tie before taking a sip of whiskey; he said it as though it were the most ordinary thing that had happened all night. — “I swear on my life i saw her wink at me."

“Which one? The one in the green dress or the light blue one?” — Juria asked.

“The green dress.” — Hoseok, unable to contain his laughter, let out a loud, “That’s amazing.” — “It’s not! I’m thirty years old, and she’s like… sixty-two?” — he said uncertainly.

“Love has no age.” — Yoongi shrugged, finishing his drink.

“Shut up, Yoongi.”

Before Jimin could point accusingly at Yoongi, two familiar presences approached the table. Instead of the bride and groom, it was Jin and Jungkook returning; a few minutes earlier, they had gone in search of food — more specifically, more desserts. Judging by the plate Jin was carrying, they had successfully satisfied whatever cravings had possessed them. — The plate was filled with tiny sweets of different sizes, all of them irresistible.

Jin dragged over a chair from an empty nearby table and sat down at the end of yours; Taehyung did not even wait for his friend to settle before stealing one of the desserts from the plate.

“What did we miss?” — Jin asked.

“Jimin almost becoming part of Namjoon’s family.” — Yoongi summarized the entire situation, which immediately caused another wave of chaos at the table.

Shifting your attention elsewhere — and choosing to disguise any possible exchange of glances — your eyes drifted toward Jungkook. It was a fleeting moment, stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye. He remained standing, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other held a champagne glass, quietly observing everyone at the table with a polite, warm smile. — Enjoying the company of old friends he no longer saw very often; well, some of them.

Until his eyes landed on you for slightly longer than they should have.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his head subtly turning in your direction. You did not know how much longer you would be able to resist, whether eventually you would look back and allow your eyes to meet his; part of you wanted to.

It didn’t take long before Jungkook pulled over a chair, just like Jin had done, positioning himself at the table to join the mediocre yet affectionate “meeting.” — To make the situation even worse, your ex-boyfriend sat directly across from you.

“I believe it.” — Jin, already thoroughly entertained, continued the conversation while pointing at Jungkook. — “One of the aunts asked if Jungkook was single.” — At the mention of the situation, Jungkook tilted his head back dramatically, unwilling to relive the memory; everyone at the table — including you — burst into laughter at Jin’s story.

And automatically, Jungkook lifted his head again, straightening his posture toward you; as though hearing your laugh among all the others had awakened something inside him. — It always did, even after two years and a few months. — Pushing past the embarrassment, he smiled while watching you enjoy yourself; missing seeing you like this.

Jungkook missed you.

“Just wait until Namjoon finds out about this…” — you said between laughs, wiping at the corners of your eyes where tiny tears had almost formed. Taking a deep breath, you lightly smacked Jimin’s thigh with your hand. — “I’m going to get some air.” — you announced.

“Don’t tell me you’re running away?” — Jimin whispered into your ear, narrowing his eyes suspiciously; honestly, you were surprised Juria hadn’t been the one to say it first.

“I’d call it survival.” — You answered while standing up from your seat, carefully lifting your dress to avoid tripping; besides already feeling slightly affected by the alcohol, the last thing you wanted was to publicly embarrass yourself. Jimin mocked your voice in a higher pitch, and you responded by flipping him off.

Crossing through the ballroom, politely refusing a few waiters offering champagne along the way, the music slowly became more distant, just like the guests surrounding it. Your slightly clumsy steps guided you toward the hotel’s outdoor balcony; the cool breeze gently moved your hair while the sound of the party became muffled in the background. — You truly needed a brief escape; not because your friends’ company was unpleasant. — Only because one particular person did not belong on that list.

Resting your hands against the balcony railing, you took a deep breath to fully enjoy the atmosphere; flowers still dominated every corner, filling the space with color and life. It resembled a garden. It was beautiful.

“Still running away from me?”

Your eyes shut immediately — tightly enough that it almost hurt; you wished you had a glass in your hand just so you could down whatever was inside in one go. God, you could throw yourself off that balcony.

Of course he had followed you. — Turning around slowly, you found Jungkook standing there with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants, his tie gone; his hair was still perfectly styled, and his eyes were completely fixed on you. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek — a habit of his.

“You think you’re very important.” — You tried to challenge his ego, which only made him smile. Jungkook took three steps closer. — “Don’t you ever get tired of this?” — You threw him an ironic smile.

“And don’t you get tired of being angry at me after all this time?” — he shot back.

“Don’t tell me you want to talk about this on the day of our friends’ wedding.” — The sarcastic smile faded from your lips, your amusement disappearing completely.

“You act like i ruined your life.” — Frustration flickered across Jungkook’s face as he pulled his hands from his pockets to gesture properly. — “Is this really fucking necessary?” — Instead of that familiar spark that always drew people in, there was only confused sadness in his eyes now. — “Acting like i left because i wanted to.”

The words struck painfully against your chest; sadness overtook the happiness you had carried throughout the ceremony and party, if only for a moment. Maybe you had underestimated how much this would hurt; you always knew you would have to face Jungkook eventually, there was no escaping it — even though you had tried. — The wound from the breakup had never healed, not for you and not for Jungkook. — Years of longing, resentment, pride; an unbearable mixture buried inside both of you.

Jungkook did not dare look away from your face. He wanted to catch every movement, every tiny reaction, even the smallest twitch of a nerve; perhaps this would be the first and last time he cornered you with everything left unsaid between you. — If you no longer wanted to see him, if you wanted to finally put an end to this cruel hurt or cut your ties with him forever, this was the opportunity.

“I have every right to still be hurt, Jungkook.” — It was the only thing you managed to say to him; and he agreed, you were right. Step by step, your ex-boyfriend moved until he was only inches away from you. — “God, i became pathetic.” — Your words refused to come out the way you wanted; you stumbled over them, nervous with him standing so close.

“Fuck…” — His rough voice startled you. — “It was hell trying not to think about you all the time. Sitting through meeting after meeting, trying to keep that company from falling apart, I kept thinking about you.” — Your heart was racing violently now, the sensation unbearable; at that exact moment, chills spread through your body while your legs threatened to weaken beneath you.

You looked away; you could not handle it anymore. Jungkook, however, kept his dark eyes locked on you.

“I never moved on.” — Jungkook’s voice dropped lower after saying your name; rougher, heavier. He was closer now than he had been a minute ago, his cologne surrounding you completely.

The silence between you was miserable, unbearably heavy. You could hear Jungkook breathing, trying to steady himself, and beneath it you sensed anger mixing with something far worse — desire. You still wanted him. — Years of unresolved desire, suffocated and buried alive. — Fuck, you were remembering every single thing you had tried so hard to forget, everything you pretended you had already overcome.

“Jungkook…” — Everything happened too quickly. Jungkook held your face the same way he used to and kissed you with overwhelming hunger, a force he had been restraining ever since he saw you in that hallway. The two of you had been holding this back for far too long.

You should have pushed him away, you really should have. But instead, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him even closer. The feeling of his piercing brushing against your lips was painfully nostalgic; apparently, you had missed the labret after all. — There was no gentleness, no patience, no softness to it; the kiss carried anger, traces of resentment, and desperation. — You were pouring every buried feeling from the past years into it.

Jungkook’s hand slid down to your waist, gripping tightly enough to probably wrinkle the fabric of your dress; the hold was firm, daring. He pulled your body flush against his. — A sigh, dangerously close to a moan, escaped your lips mid-kiss, making Jungkook’s mouth curl into a sinful, devastating smile. — He kissed you again immediately, maintaining the same desperate rhythm, kissing you deeply, almost consuming you; biting your lower lip the same way he used to.

God, you had missed this so much. Missed him so much.

“Still mad at me?” — Jungkook rested his forehead against yours while trying to steady his breathing. That old smug tone of his; you could not decide whether or not you had missed it too.

“Shut up.” — He laughed softly. Jungkook’s other hand moved to your cheek, caressing it gently; his thumb brushed along your chin and lips. His dark, shining eyes looked at you with warmth now, relaxed in a way they had not been all night.

“You’re really going to ruin me.” — Whispering the words against your lips, Jungkook carefully removed your hands from the collar of his shirt, intertwining his fingers with yours instead; then he guided you away from the balcony and back inside the hotel — only toward somewhere else entirely.

And you knew exactly where Jungkook was taking the two of you.

3 HOURS AND 36 MINUTES AFTER THE WEDDING.

The walk to Jungkook’s room had been… peculiar, to say the least — aside from the fact that you had left your purse, along with your room keycard, back at the table with Juria — with the two of you clinging to each other, kissing against walls like reckless teenagers left unsupervised; whoever had been monitoring the security cameras had certainly been given quite a show. — It was horrifying to think about that fact for too long.

Surprisingly, Jungkook’s room keycard was already in his pocket, meaning there was nothing standing in the way of your privacy. — And everything about this felt urgent, desperate; completely beyond either of your control.

Across Jungkook’s room — especially scattered over the floor — lay discarded dress shoes and high heels alongside your beautiful, ridiculously expensive dress and the remaining pieces of Jungkook’s suit, not to mention your undergarments; the contrast was strangely fascinating to witness. — If his tie had been there too, it would have completed the picture perfectly. — Neither of you wanted to waste time; every second felt precious, even with the entire night stretching ahead of you.

After all, no one was going to notice your absence.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” — His words brushed against your skin, warm and intoxicating, followed by wet kisses and lingering pecks; Jungkook’s lips traveled across your collarbone, occasionally dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin. You squirmed slightly beneath him, tiny laughs escaping between your breaths from the ticklish sensation. — “Fuck, i missed you so damn much.” — Jungkook buried his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume; you could feel the cool metal of his piercing brushing your skin.

“Ggukie…” — He kissed and nipped at your neck while one of his hands slowly traced over your stomach before sliding upward toward your chest; Jungkook’s long, tattooed fingers brushed over one of your nipples, already sensitive beneath his touch. The slow movement of his thumb and forefinger drew soft, breathless sounds from your lips.

He remembered your weak spot. Jungkook recalled, for countless nights, the times you managed to orgasm just from him touching and rubbing your boobs; he lost count of how many times he masturbated, trying to relieve himself as much as possible, remembering this. — Unfortunately, he didn't want to admit that he knew the exact count; Jeon wasn't proud of the aforementioned feats.

He also wasn't proud of keeping an old piece of your lingerie for so long; well, he didn't steal it, actually, he doesn't remember how the black piece had appeared in your suitcase among your clothes when you were moving to Busan. — Jungkook really couldn't explain it but he never complained; and he didn't think it would be a good idea to inform you of what he had already done with it.

"How cute." — Surprising you, you felt your ex-boyfriend's teeth biting your neck with enough force that you scratched his chest in defense; it was just a little scratch for Jungkook. — "Still with that nickname." — He wasn't complaining. Removing himself from your neck, Jungkook's face was now face to face with yours; the older's dark eyes stared at your lips, then at your eyes. He was impeccable, almost irritatingly so. — That damned man could beg you for anything, and he'd receive it instantly; and vice versa.

Leaving a trail of kisses on your lips, Jungkook moved down to your breasts; specifically, to your left nipple. He didn't have the patience he wished he had, he didn't wait to bite your nipple, making no attempt to hide his hunger. His tongue snaked across the erect nipple, teasing it with desire and running his teeth over it, just to provoke you. — Your moans and whimpers stood out in the room and reached Jungkook's ears; you writhed on the bed, euphoric. Pleasure heated your boobs, almost making you explode. — Thinking of relieving the excitement, she tried to guide your hand towards your pussy, running it over your body and Jungkook's, but he interrupted you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly.

"No, no…" — He said between wet smacks; Jungkook sucked and pulled your nipple with his mouth. — "Don't touch that pussy." — It was an order, his voice was authoritative and very hoarse, it seemed dry.

It seemed that, at the moment, Jungkook didn't have time for foreplay. — Even with his mouth on your boobs, he wanted to satisfy a hunger that had been consuming him for a long time; the obsession with your boobs never left him.

Releasing your hand, you positioned it on the nape of his neck; lightly running her nails over the area and sometimes down to Jeon's broad, robust back. — With a wet and loud "plop," Jungkook's mouth released your nipple, and there was a line of saliva connecting his mouth and your nipple; adjusting his posture, the older's hard penis pressed against your thigh. The wet, throbbing sensation made you salivate at the thought; it was lewd, immoral. — Jungkook noticed it too.

"Love, princess…" — He mumbled, as if lamenting or trying to apologize for something, nonsense. Jungkook frowned, starting a poorly formed pout on his lips. — "I promised i could eat you later, but i need…" — God, this man of hers was ridiculous. — "I need to be inside you."

Placing your hands around Jungkook's face, your fingers caressed the boy's cheeks and soon, joining your lips again for a long kiss: leaving a little kiss on the mole below Jungkook's lips, it was your favorite.

"I missed you too," — You murmured, actually whispered to Jungkook. For the first time that night, you confessed to him and didn't regret it, of course not.

Even with the poor lighting, only the bedside lamp was on, the gleam in Jungkook's dark eyes was more radiant than ever; funny how that was possible. The dynamic, its contrast, could change in the blink of an eye; it was completely admirable. — Running his hands down to your thighs, holding you more securely and firmly, Jungkook kissed you once more, more delicately but continuing with voluptuousness, desire; your tongue was caressed, sucked, and came into contact with the man's teeth, unintentionally.

Between your legs, your… ex-boyfriend encountered no obstacle to his accommodation; his large, heavy penis brushed against your thigh, and sometimes involuntarily made contact with your folds, which, even so, left you anxious. Jungkook noticed. — Opening your legs slightly, Jeon held his penis and positioned it at your pussy; in an up-and-down motion between your wet folds. He was stimulating you.

During the kiss, you bit Jungkook's lower lip as you felt him penetrate you all at once, accompanied by a cry of your name. — Damn it, it had been so long and your pussy had gotten used to that emptiness, and only he could fill it. — He only gave one thrust, but hadn't fully penetrated you: a few centimeters were still missing.

Damn, you were fucked; literally.

"Take a deep breath, my love." — Jungkook whispered through his teeth, sucking on the jewel in his mouth. It had been a long time, your pussy needed to get used to that familiar size. — You obey him, inhaling deeply, feeling Jeon's hips press even harder against you; more loud moans and whimpers echoed through the room. — "Relax." — He licked your lips, then licked the corner of your mouth, where a small trickle of saliva ran down.

"Jung…" — You moaned wildly. Jungkook kissed your chin, biting and growling as he pushed your hips away and thrust forward, pounding into you. The sensation was delicious, pleasure burned through her body and every neuron in your head.

"So good, damn it." — He groaned, squeezing your thighs and probably leaving finger marks on your skin. The wet noises, which had been timid before, began to crackle between your bodies. You were so full. — "Fuck, fuck."

The sounds, wet noises mixed with moans, growls — as well as the headboard against the wall — were deafeningly fucking, echoing through the room. His large, heavy penis stretched your again, the way you had dreamed, longed for, and missed so much; you felt the tip of his head hit the most sensitive and vulnerable spot inside you.

Jungkook's name, and several variations of barely spellable nicknames, repeatedly escaped your lips; only he was on your mind.

"I've spent nights dreaming about this, ugh, you know…?" — He said between moans, becoming more wild and abrupt. Jungkook was covered in sweat, his body trembling; your nails scratched his biceps, leaving a reddish trail across his skin. — "Are you listening, Jagiya?" — Then he called your name authoritatively, wanting an answer.

"Ggkie, yes…" — You repeated to please him; you licked Jungkook's lips, you was out of your mind. — "Oh, Ggkie… please, please." — You didn't even remember what you was begging him for.

Jungkook's teeth attacked your shoulder; his hips were out of control, penetrating you with such force and desire. Your velvety, warm walls tightened around his cock, and he would have loved to admire your pussy devouring him, but he wanted to savor the moment. — He could contemplate the sight later. — Jeon knew he was close, he knew you were too, he recognized your signals.

God, your body went into shock, your felt yourself trembling unbearably; there was no trace of consciousness in her mind, she didn't care about anything else around you. The only thing that mattered was Jungkook. — Your Jungkook. — You felt him all over your body; he was trapped inside you. Damn, experiencing the bulge, the size of Jungkook's cock again drove you crazy.

"I'm going to, fuck…" — He growled in her ear, his breathing was defiant, completely unbalanced; it felt so good. With each thrust, Jungkook growled, cried out her name. — "I'm going to cum inside you." — Followed by several curse words. The wave of ecstasy, that knot in your stomach, was closer than you thought; your nails scratched the boy's back, bringing unbearable pain but covered in pure excitement. — "Did you hear, love?"

The final impact, bringing a last thrust, made Jungkook fill you with his sperm; your walls, full of your pleasure, continued to warm his cock. The damned man moved his hips forward, almost merging with you, so that nothing would be wasted. — While your body remained in post-orgasm shock, the sensation was delicious, you could say; it had been a long time since the last time you managed to come so well. — Well, it wouldn't be necessary to say who the last time was with…?

You tried to recover, to regulate your breathing. — Jungkook was still inside you — Jeon moved away from your neck, after leaving a small bite on your sweaty skin, to look at you with his sleepy and delighted eyes; Even covered in sweat, with extremely messy hair and traces of drool, you remained impeccable to him. — And you were still smiling, shyly. My god, he was begging to deserve you again.

Jungkook loved you so much. He never stopped loving you.

"Gongjunim," — The old petname, the affectionate way of calling you, came out softly and carefully; Jeon swore he felt your pussy throb, tighten around his cock, but he tried to control himself. He chuckled nasally, touching noses. Neither of you regretted it, that was clear.

The comfort you always dreamed of having back in his arms; that affection, the feeling of home and love. Spending time pretending you hated him, that you wanted him out of your life; you admitted you were lying, regrettably, to survive all the pain.

You had never stopped loving that man.

"I think i can beat you in a fight."

Perhaps — a small, harmless perhaps — you might have regretted those words; in the heat of the moment, seeking a little diversion from the enormous wave of boredom coursing through your head, you should have thought twice.

But, of course, only after the fact does one begin to think about the consequences; that, if given the chance, you would go back in time and pretend nothing had happened. — That you weren't trapped in Jungkook's arms because you doubted his strength; and, look, it was a joke.

The problem is that your boyfriend was a little competitive; really, a "little."

"What did you say?" — He slowly looked up from his phone to pay attention to the words that came out of your mouth; funny, at first, you didn't know if Jungkook was being ironic or if he really hadn't heard. — "I didn't understand, Jagiya." — Yeah, it was the second option.

"I said that…" — Since you were in bed, it didn't take much for you to come face to face with your boyfriend. — "I can beat you in a fight." — There wasn't much confidence in your voice; Jungkook arched an eyebrow with a disbelieving expression, his lips trembling as if he wanted to laugh.

"My dear…" — He shook his head, biting his lip and piercing while stifling a short laugh; it was that proud Jungkook who hated losing, even in such banal and childish things — like RUN! BTS or playing "whoever blinks loses" with some child in the family — he began to shout for freedom. — "Are you serious?" — He rubbed his eyes.

Well, you're his girlfriend; you might have some advantage, or Jungkook would have the conscience to let you win. — You could earn another star on the "nice boyfriend" chart.

Jungkook put his phone aside — to your surprise, and as he had shown you earlier, he was editing a video he was going to post later — genuinely entertained by what you were up to. He should have been resting, he knows this, but he took advantage of the short "break" from the tour to spend time with you.

To make matters worse for you, and better for Jungkook, he suggested: "Want to try?" and hesitating for three seconds, but your pride got the better of you, you accepted the offer; the wicked lips of that man curved into a dangerous smile in that instant. — It didn't matter if you had lunged at your boyfriend's large, robust body in the most clumsy way possible; he found it amusing.

Or grabbing him by the shoulders, trying to muster nonexistent strength and holding his large, tattooed hands to the mattress; not to mention your weight on the older's legs, since you was in his lap. — Nothing moved on Jungkook, but he let — do whatever you wanted.

"I did it!" — You said with admirable confidence, breathless but trying to control your breathing, your hair falling to the side and almost interrupting your speech. — "See?"

Yes, he was seeing. — Before you could breathe another second of your glory, Jungkook turned your body suddenly, surprising you; he picked her up as if you weighed absolutely nothing, like a feather. — Letting out a cry of surprise, and from the shock, as you felt your back hit the soft mattress with the scattered pillows; Jungkook was on top, holding your wrists above her head with only one hand.

As always, that cheeky, completely shameless little smile was stuck on his lips; as were his eyes, which shone with amusement as they stared at your. — Which indicated, and knowing your boyfriend very well, that this amusement could turn into something else in the blink of an eye.

He teased your, laughing at the way you tried to get out of that situation; rubbing your body, trying to find some opening but knowing it wouldn't work, however, you didn't want to give your boyfriend that satisfaction. — Even though she didn't need to, after all, he was watching her every move.

Jungkook wasn't making any effort, which made you even more embarrassed; it was completely ridiculous.

"Let me go." — You exhausted voice came out low, almost without conviction, and about to actually raise the white flag for a war you yourself had created.

"Are you giving up, my love?" — Jungkook's knee pressed even harder against your legs, intending to slide between them. The grip of his hand began to intensify, while his other hand, which was on your stomach, moved down to your hip. Jungkook's face was so close to hers that it could be considered, dramatically, a crime.

"Ggkuie…" — You wanted to reprimand him but couldn't in the way you wished. You felt your face heat up, you knew your cheeks were red from the pressure of the older's body on top of you and from the situation that was unfolding. — "Hey, hey…"

Or when you felt a certain familiar bulge poking between your legs; the warm and pleasant sensation made you want to escape your thoughts. — Jungkook and his classic habit of not wearing underwear sometimes.

"I can beat you in a fight." — He mimicked your voice, trying to mock you; the bitter taste of regret settled on your palate. Jungkook frowned, then widened his eyes as you tried to bite his chin. — "You're the one who said that."

"I hate you."