HE IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HE IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JUNGKOOK IS COMING!!!!!!!

ella i am on my period and this shit makes me so hard to fight against tears lol. the dances & bridge scenes make me cry for almost eternity, no cap. althought i am a sensitive woman by nature these hurt so good 🥹

see? i knew he wanted to propose. babe was just asking the universe for the right timing. i think he doesn’t have to blame himself for choosing his career over his relationship? is it really a selfish decision? think i will do the same.

oh and ? You can break my heart again.

arghhh i am really not okay

When the End Comes | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: clueless kid, mention of Jungkook's accident, trouble eating, panic attack, mention of blood, alcohol, Jungkook is stubborn, curse words, Jungkook's leg hurts a little bit, explicit content: degradation, oral sex (female and male receiving), hair pulling, fingering, breast/nipple play, jerking off, mouth fucking, pain kink (Jungkook), balls squeezing, unprotected sex

☆word count: 17.6k (damn my bad HAHA)

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: so this is for the WWH folks out there!! @daechwitatamic's babies are finally getting married, and their vows were written by Jo herself <3

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me as I wrote this story, you're amazinnng <3

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, September 2nd

                The day starts early. Too early for you, but Jo has a tight schedule that you have to respect. Though the ceremony is only in the afternoon, you have to go get ready.

Not that you’re a bridesmaid – her bridesmaids are Kiko and Bridget, and the rest of you aren’t technically part of the wedding party. It almost was enough to convince you not to go, when you thought about it in the last few days but then…

But then again there was the perspective of seeing him, and that sits right with you. It shouldn’t, but it does, and you find you are excited to see him. To see with your own two eyes that, though you’re grieving, he’s still standing and alive and surviving.

You’re selfish, inherently so, and it makes you anxious. Hateful, with yourself and your decision to come to the wedding in the first place. Because you know he’ll suffer – you know you’ll suffer. In the never-ending cycle of you and him, only pain is left.

You sigh as you make your way to the hairdresser Jo suggested, only to meet Jiho and Chaeyeon there. You hug Jiho tight, and she offers you a kind smile as you pull away.

You know exactly what she’s thinking without her having to say it. It’s been written on everybody’s face ever since you got to the hotel last night. And you get it – you and Jungkook were together for almost seven years. It’s understandable that the friends you have in common are… apprehensive at the idea of you and him seeing each other again.

Or at least you think it’s apprehension. Because you don’t want it to be something else, don’t want to think that they in fact don’t care about it.

Like the universe. You thought the universe would care, after the breakup, but it never did. Only laughed at you during all of your sleepless nights, only made the end replay in your head on a dizzying loop that you’ve yet to escape from.

You sigh, pushing the thought away as the hairdresser works on you, creating a simple style that leaves most of your hair flowing freely. You then switch to a makeup artist, and you let yourself be pampered. Let the lady apply the makeup as if it’ll be able to hide the sorrow that’s settled deep within your gaze.

When you’re ready, you return to the hotel so that you can put your dress on, time flowing in a weird stretch that leaves you feeling uneasy. As if it’s slowed yet accelerated, and you feel like the chronology will snap by the end of the day.

You’re going insane with the thought of seeing him again. You’re aware that it’s that – as much as you’re looking forward to it, you’re also dreading it, dreading the instant that your eyes will find him, that he will meet your gaze.

Jiho must have noticed, because she makes sure to keep you busy. Talks to you about Lisa and Charles and about work. Mentions how Hobi’s dance studio has been doing better than ever, how you should come by sometimes so that you can dance again, just for the fun of it.

What she doesn’t know is that dance means him too much.

And then, like he’s been summoned out of your darkest thoughts, Jungkook appears. You’re at the venue for the ceremony and reception, waiting outside with the other guests on a deck overlooking the chairs where you’ll sit for the ceremony. You’ve mostly been sticking to Jiho’s side the whole time, and then he appears, looking pristine in the light suit he’s wearing. It’s hugging his frame perfectly, clinging to the muscles of his arms as if they’ll tear through the fabric if he moves too quickly.

You’re hit with the thought that he probably got bigger, after the tailoring. And you can only imagine why – clearly, Jungkook has spent too much time at the gym ever since the last time you saw him.

Is that his way to cope? You reckon, it’s better than what you’ve been doing. Better than all the wallowing and sleepless nights. If he finds comfort in the act of working out, then so be it.

He doesn’t notice you. Or he ignores you professionally, and before you’ve had a chance to really breathe he’s disappeared inside, probably going wherever it is that Taehyung is getting ready at.

Of course he’s Taehyung’s best man. Yes, their friendship was suffering when you first started dating Jungkook, but through the years it’s only improved. And you’re glad for it – at least Jungkook has Taehyung.

When he disappears, you feel all the ache hitting you at once. Ceasing your heart, squeezing it until your gaze drops to the ground and you’re forced to take a few steadying breaths. They barely do anything to ease the pain, and Jiho kindly takes a hold of your hand, pressing your fingers to offer support. It’s short-lived – Lisa comes running towards her mother, and Jiho lets go of you to bend and tell her daughter just how pretty she is.

And she is. She’s wearing a light pink gauzy dress that’s making her look like a princess, and she rattles on and on about how she’s excited to be the flower girl. You’re proud of her – at her age, you would have been terrified to have so much attention on you.

But that isn’t Lisa. Lisa basks in the attention, and you can’t help but think she has a bright future ahead of her.

“Dad said Jungkook is here!” Lisa says as she pulls on your hand.

You raise your head to briefly connect gaze with Hobi, who mouths an apology.

“Oh, is he?” you tell her as you bend, hoping she’ll be immune to the torture she’s conjured in your chest. Immune to the sheen of your eyes, and to the pain that accompanies every beat of your heart.

Lisa hums as she nods her head forcefully. “You should find him!”

“Lisa,” Jiho says sternly. “I told you not to…”

Your eyes trail to Jiho before she finishes her sentence, and she stops at the sight of the look on your face. You don’t know what you look like – can she feel the wrath against the universe that your mind holds?

“Maybe I can find him later,” you kindly tell Lisa as your gaze settles back on her. “But first you have to be the best flower girl!”

She giggles, and before she can say anything else you’re all asked to move to the seats down on the lawn. You sit with Hobi and Charles, saving a chair for Jiho as she went inside with Lisa to make sure that the little girl will be okay. Then it’s just a sense of dread that takes over you, because he’s soon going to be here again.

Soon going to stand at the end of the aisle, where he would have stood for you had distance not existed. The thought undoes you, and you’re forced to look down at your knees as the wedding party arrives.

As he arrives, and stands where he’s supposed to, big doe eyes scanning the crowd. You think you feel the moment they find you – the ache relents inside of you, allowing you to breathe.

Yet you’re still too much of a coward to meet his gaze.

*****

                Jungkook stands still, where he’s been told he has to. Though he’s at the front of the crowd, he knows the eyes aren’t on him. He knows they’re all on Taehyung as he waits for Jo at the end of the aisle, and it helps ease Jungkook’s nerves somehow.

Barely. Because you’re there, in the crowd. He didn’t see you before – you both managed to avoid the other, by chance or not, ever since you all arrived at the hotel two days ago. Or maybe you just arrived yesterday, since you didn’t have the rehearsal to attend.

He shakes the thought out of his head and forces himself to listen to the ceremony. To watch Taehyung’s eyes fill with tears as Jo, beautiful as ever, appears at the end of the aisle. It makes him emotional too, and of course his treacherous gaze moves to you again.

He catches you looking. You don’t look away, and he thinks he knows why. Because he can’t look away either, can’t even blink as he senses the distance between you and him. As he feels his heart slowing in his chest, coming to a stop as if to tell him, ‘That’s it, this is where it ends’. He can barely hear the song Jo chose to walk down the aisle too. Can’t even breathe as he notices the sorrow in your eyes, a perfect reflection of the one in his.

And suddenly, his chest burns with hate for you, for what you did to him and you, to the pair that you formed. It’s then that he looks away, taken aback by the fierceness of the emotion as it breaks down something in him. He wants to hold onto it, but by the time Jo is standing in front of Taehyung, it leaves him empty. Leaves his heart in charred remnants, and the pain settles back in.

It’s hard to focus on the ceremony. To hear the officiant speak about love as tears pool in his eyes, and he blinks them away frustratingly. He has a feeling that he’ll fight against his emotions many times today, and it’s confirmed when he inadvertently looks towards you again, just to find you with a trembling smile as you hold tears in too.

Your eyes are trailed on Jo and Taehyung though, and Jungkook doesn’t know if you’re crying for him or for your friends. It doesn’t matter – it takes the charred remnants of his heart and throws them in acid.

He swallows the lump in his throat as he returns his attention to the ceremony, and does his best to remain there, in the moment, up until the vows begin. They begin as Jo scrapes her throat, and then her gentle voice surrounds him.

“So… if you know me at all, you know I like themes.” Jungkook doesn’t miss the fond look gracing Taehyung’s features as the crowd chuckles, and he lets his gaze drop to the floor. “Taehyung, if we had to put a theme to our partnership, at least from my side, it would be learning.”

“I have learned so much from you, from day one. The first night we met, you were trying to teach me to play beer pong – even though I was already better than you.”

As Jo laughs, Jungkook glances her way again. Taehyung is smiling as per always when it comes to Jo and he rolls his eyes playfully, fondness guiding the movement. It tastes sour to Jungkook – you used to roll your eyes like that with him too, once upon a time of you and him together.

“As time went on I learned so much just from watching you,” Jo continues. “You taught me not to be so fast to judge, to admit to mistakes… You taught me how to forgive – others, and myself. You taught me how to say what I need… You taught me about patience, and grace… You taught me my own worth just by standing by me while I figured it out. Our years together have taught me that just loving someone doesn’t guarantee you anything, but the work to keep a partnership strong is so worth it.”

The words echo around Jungkook, like a million tiny voices taunting him, stabbing him through the chest. He doesn’t want to look at you, but still he can’t resist, and the sadness that’s clouding your features makes him wish he was blind. So Jungkook forces himself to look towards Jo again, right as she turns to the crowd.

“You all knew I would talk too much up here, right?” The crowd chuckles again, and Jungkook wishes he could join in. Knows his friends deserve as much, but he can’t even bring a smile to his lips. “I’m almost done, I promise.”  She looks back to Taehyung. “Taehyung, with you, I’ve been learning about you… about the world… about myself since the day I met you. You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever known and I never want to stop learning from you. I hope I’m still learning from you sixty years from now.”  

In a quieter voice, uttering words probably meant just for Taehyung, she finishes, “I love you. So much. Let’s grow old together.”

 There’s a small pause, and Jungkook braces himself for what is to follow. Somehow, he’s more scared about what Taehyung will have to say, and his heart reaches an erratic beat in his chest as his friend finally starts, looking over the crowd.

“I begged her to let me go first.” The crowd laughs, and Taehyung waits a moment before he continues. “Well, the bad news is that mine won’t be as good as hers… the good news is it won’t be as long.”

At that the crowd laughs again, and Jungkook looks up at the sky, wondering if counting the clouds up above would help. He sees Jo swatting Taehyung’s arm from the corner of his eye, but her laugh is a clear indication that she’s not annoyed with Taehyung, who takes a breath, trying to get serious, before looking at her again.

“As you can imagine, I had a hard time writing these.” Jungkook is not surprised, and perhaps that is why his eyes trail to his friend quick enough to see Taehyung shaking his head as he pauses. “I know how I feel about you – how I’ve always felt about you – but I’m not very eloquent.”

Jo whispers “vocab”, and the reminder of the complicity between his two friends undoes Jungkook, especially as Taehyung laughs. He finds himself taking a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut so that he can focus on not breaking down.

Somehow, Taehyung manages to push on seriously as he continues, “I finally did what I always do when I have a problem - I asked Jimin-hyung for help.” Once again, the crowd laughs – are you laughing along with them? “His advice was to keep it simple and just tell you what I want you to know. So… what I have to say is: Thank you. Thank you for choosing me, thank you for loving me. Thank you for fighting for me, for overcoming obstacles with me. Thank you for staying by my side these last seven years. Thank you for supporting me through every hard time and making every good time so much better.”

If Jungkook counts the beats of his heart, will he win the fight against his tears?

“I love you,” Taehyung adds. “Thank you for agreeing to be my wife. I promise to try every day to make sure it’s… well, to make sure it’s worth it.”

When Taehyung finishes, Jungkook knows he can’t hold the tears anymore. Because it should have been you and him too, eventually. Somewhere down the line, he was convinced he was going to ask you to marry him, and had even planned it. But he was too late – or maybe he just didn’t want it enough.

When he meets your gaze then, he notices the tears on your cheeks. Notices them like they are glistening jewels – they do nothing to take your beauty away from you. Especially not as you offer him a tight-lipped smile. You look like a weeping goddess, and he wishes you didn’t.

Wishes he’d be free of this pain, of the knowledge that he had you and then lost you.

Deep ache settles on him, escaping the confines of his soul to wreck his physical body until it’s hard to breathe. It’s equally as hard to be – he wishes he wasn’t anymore, wishes he could just stop for a time.

He’s not offered salvation. Instead, he has to play his role in the ceremony, has to act as if he hasn’t hit a wall, in the metaphorical sense of it.

Strangely, the ceremony ends without him collapsing, without him entirely losing it. The pictures pass, the setting sun providing a beautiful golden glow to them. The photographer in him can’t help but appreciate the moment – if he’d still take pictures, he’d be picturing this moment, right now.

But photography lost its appeal some night a few months ago, and he hasn’t been able to touch a camera since then.

He makes it to the reception hall, beautifully decorated with white fabric and plants as the centerpiece of the tables. Flowers – purple and blue – decorate the whole room, along with fairy lights that create a soft ambiance. One he recognizes and hates too deeply. Because you’d always preferred the light of fairy lights, claiming that it’d been your favourite since the day he hung some at your first apartment.

He hates it, though it casts a gentle atmosphere on the room, makes it less harsh to his bleeding heart. And then it’s like he’s lost in a daze – he can’t focus, can barely speak when he’s directly addressed. He barely eats, eyes solely focused on his plate because he knows if he looks up, he’ll find you again. And he can’t help but wonder, are you just as distressed as him?

Is this killing you just as much as it’s killing him?

He wishes the anger would come back, wishes he’d be able to be mad at you so that it’d replace the ache, but all he’s left with is burned ashes, remnants of something that once was great.

When the time comes for the speeches, Jungkook knows he can’t escape. Knows it is his duty as best man, and also as Taehyung’s best friend, to speak and say what’s on his mind. And he’s worked on it a lot, in the last few weeks. It gave him a sense of purpose when he couldn’t sleep at night, other than that of taking care of Bam.

Bam, who’s being babysat by his nice elderly neighbour, who claimed she’d always wanted to have a dog like Bam. Jungkook knew the dog would be safe in her hands, yet leaving him behind had felt wrong.

Perhaps because Bam is also a piece of you, somehow.

Jungkook takes a sip of the glass of wine he’s been nursing since the beginning of the meal. He hopes nobody sees his too-full plate as he gets up, feeling the weight of eyes on him. He’s been handed a mic – he doesn’t even remember when or by who – and he scrapes his throat with the mic too close from his mouth.

He winces at the too-loud sound of his voice, right as the chatter in the room dims until it’s entirely gone. Except for the occasional clink of utensil on a dish, the room is fully silent, entirely focused on him.

“Hey,” he lets out, feeling as awkward as ever. It doubles up as he finally lifts his eyes from the plate in front of him, and scans the room once.

Thankfully, you’re seated far away. Yet, his eyes stop on you, tearing his chest apart, and he gulps.

You offer him a smile. The tiniest of smiles – if he didn’t know you like the back of his hand, he wouldn’t notice. But he knows you, far too well, and knows that the curve of your lips is meant for him.

Because even though you ended, he reckons you’ll always support him. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking – maybe the love he holds for you gives him strength even after the end.

“Today we’re reunited to celebrate these two,” Jungkook says, pointing to Jo and Taehyung as he finally finds words to say. “Years ago, when they first started dating, I’d never imagine Jo would weave her way into Taehyung’s life the way that she has. Yet, now…” His voice wavers, and he glances your way, hoping to find courage again. He does. He fucking does, and then his voice holds strong as he continues, “Now when I think of Taehyung, I think of Jo too. These two are inseparable, if you guys didn’t know.” Chuckles move through the room, another thing that gives him unexpected strength.

Because right now, it isn’t about you and him anymore. And he loves his friends; they deserve the best he has to offer.

“I still remember their early days. Taehyung became weirdly interested in a school project when he never gave two fucks about college before.” He winces at the swear word, and mouths an apology to Taehyung’s parents where they are sitting. “A project about The Ghost Sonata too! I still don’t know how they could fall in love over that, but somehow they did, and it makes so much sense.”

He pauses, turning to meet Taehyung’s gaze. “Tae, you’ve been one of my closest friends my whole life. I am so, so thankful to have you in my life, and to be here with you all today.” At that, his eyes glaze over, as Taehyung’s do too. Because he means the accident, he means the night that almost took his life.

Had it ended differently, he knows Taehyung would have never forgiven himself for it.

“It’s thanks to you that I’m still here,” Jungkook continues, his voice rough. “I love you bro.”

Taehyung raises his glass, a tearful smile on his lips. Before he can embarrass himself further, Jungkook slides his gaze to Jo. He clears his throat again, even more so at the sight of her wet gaze.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be crying today,” he teases her. She rolls her eyes, as people laugh around the room. “Today’s about how you managed to make this dick –“ he points to Taehyung “– settle down. I don’t know how you did it, but even after all these years, he’s still lovesick when it comes to you. It’s almost disgusting.”

Jo laughs as she shakes her head.

“Even after all these years,” Jungkook continues, and trouble finds him. It grabs him in his clutch, makes his eyes slide to where you are sitting. Where you’re watching, with so much pain and regret on your face that it renders him speechless.

Because even after all these years you were supposed to be together. You weren’t supposed to end.

Ever.

“Even…” Jungkook tries again, but he finds himself wordless. It feels as if the room is spinning, and he sees the concerned gazes on him as he stands there, mouth open, heart bleeding as he looks at you. “Even after all the years,” he finally manages to say. “You made it. You held on strong, and now you’re husband and wife. Congratulations to you two.”

As the room erupts in claps, Jungkook finally looks at Taehyung and Jo again. They both offer him an apologetic smile – they know exactly what lane his mind visited. After all, he’s been revisiting the same lane since the night you left, because he got stuck then.

He’s yet to escape, but tonight you’re here. You’ve escaped, you’ve been freed from him, but you’re still here.

He does really hate you for it.

It takes a moment for the attention to move away from Jungkook, as he passes the mic to Bridget and Kiko. He excuses himself in a whisper, says he just needs some air and then he’s walking away. Trying to put space between you, trying to forget that the stars once shone for you and him.

And tonight, they still shine. They shine for his loss, for his sorrowful soul. He never thought he was a hopeless romantic until he met you, and now he realizes he’s just a lost soul. He wishes to find his way home again, but home has burned down.

Home will never be home again.

Outside, the night bugs shrill on and on, crickets and the likes making for a melody. The chairs where the ceremony took place earlier aren’t on the lawn anymore, and it’s barely lit by the lights from inside. Stars do shine up above, though the glow of the moon hides the faintest of them, as if with you close, the stars can’t shine like before.

Maybe they can’t. Because, once they shone for you and him, and now you’re undone.

He fights tears as he leans against the railing of the patio, fists clenched tightly. He swallows around a sob, breathes in the fresh evening air.

“Jungkook,” a voice says behind him.

It’s Jimin. Of course it’s Jimin – it’s not like you’d come.

“I just need some air,” Jungkook says, voice strained by the lump in his throat.

“Well, good thing I wanted some air too.”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but doesn’t say anything as Jimin joins him where he’s leaning against the railing. They remain silent for a moment, until they can hear the claps inside, indicating that Bridget and Kiko’s speech is done.

“That was a nice speech,” Jimin says a moment later, when the buzzing of chatter has returned inside.

“Huh?”

“What you said,” Jimin adds. “Didn’t think you were such a well-spoken dude.”

Somehow, Jimin’s statement cuts through the ache in Jungkook’s chest, making him frown. “What?”

“You failed English how many times?” Jimin asks, reminiscing their high school days. “And you’re a photographer, didn’t think you were good with words.”

“Did you come here to insult me?” Jungkook bursts, shooting a glare towards his friend. The teasing smile on Jimin’s lips takes him by surprise, and his next words die in his throat.

“No, for real,” Jimin says. “I’m proud of you.”

The confusion increases tenfold. “Why?”

“To be here.” Jimin motions towards the reception hall, where music has started playing. “I know it has to be hard for you.”

Jungkook’s eyes fill with tears, and he stubbornly looks away. “What would you know about that?”

“I once was in a relationship within this group of friends too,” Jimin reminds him carefully. “When Scottie and I broke up, I too had to suffer seeing him all the time whenever I hung out with you guys.”

“This isn’t the same thing,” Jungkook says, venom dripping from his tone. “You didn’t even date for a year.”

“And Scottie broke up and moved on in a month,” Jimin says. There’s an old ache in his friend’s voice, and it puts Jungkook’s own pain on pause for an instant, no matter how ephemeral it may be. “And then I had to see him loving someone else for years, before they moved to New York.”

There’s a silence, and Jungkook realizes that his burden is shared. Because even though Scottie and Jimin didn’t last, he knows Jimin did love him.

“And it was shit for a long time,” Jimin continues, and his voice sounds a little strained. As if reminiscing that time brings him great pain, and Jungkook can only assume that it does. “But one day, I woke up and I was fine. I told you, life finds a way. It’ll find a way for you and Y/n too.”

“How?” Jungkook can’t help but ask. “How did you move on?”

“I didn’t,” Jimin admits. “I never moved on per say. The love I had for him once just morphed into something else.”

Jungkook sucks on his new piercing. The one he got the day he had agreed for the date, hoping the pain would help.

“What did it turn into?”

Jimin sighs deeply, and he pushes up from the railing to dig his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “Into the knowledge that I had the chance to live a great story.” He shrugs his shoulders, as if he doesn’t care, but Jungkook knows that he still does. “I’m lucky I’ve lived it, but I know there’s more out there for me.”

“You’ve never dated after him,” Jungkook points out, and he immediately feels bad for it. Because Jimin looks defeated as he purses his lips and shrugs again.

“I haven’t dated seriously, no,” he agrees. “But I’m happy alone. I’m happy with the life that I live right now. You deserve that too.”

Jungkook feels a lump forming in his throat again, and he quickly swallows it. “It’s only been like what? Three and a half months?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, nodding his head. “It took me three years and a few months. But I got here. You’ll get here too.”

Jungkook can’t fight the pain now. It takes over him, and he bends down, rests his head on his closed fist. Jimin pats his back a few times, before switching to soothingly rubbing.

“What if I don’t want to get there?” Jungkook asks, voicing a wish he’d never even dared think through since you left.

Jimin understands. Of course Jimin understands.

“Then you have tonight,” he states. “You have one chance to set things right for the two of you.”

The pain erupts in his soul, and it burns fiercely. Not like the hate did earlier. No, this is cleansing, like a forest fire to the soil. “What if she moved on?”

Jimin chuckles. “She almost ran out after you. I told her not to.”

Jungkook straightens so fast he thinks he gets whiplash. “Fuck off.”

Another laugh echoes in the night, and Jungkook feels like punching his friend. Feels like pushing him over the railing.

Because it could be you, with him right now.

“I thought you might need to talk first,” Jimin admits. “Correct me if I was wrong though.”

He wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t, but Jungkook isn’t going to tell him that. Instead, he blinks tears away as he glances towards the reception hall, feeling like a distant witness to a happiness he never should have lost.

“What should I do?”

“Ask her to dance during the couple’s dance.”

Would you say yes? Jungkook highly doubts so. Because it was your decision. Why would you want him back? He doesn’t know, yet he offers himself this sliver of hope. A silver lining that, maybe, maybe the story wasn’t really over months ago.

“And if she says no?”

“Then you’ll have your answer.”

He sure would, wouldn’t he?

*****

                Ever since Jungkook went out in the night, you’ve been fiddling with a paper napkin. Tearing parts of it, rolling them into little spheres that you then abandon in your plate, aiming for the next small torn bit. Jiho is too busy taking care of Lisa, Hobi having gone to the bathroom with Charles, to realize that you’re going through an existential crisis.

You wish you didn’t listen to Jimin, when he told you to stay inside. Because the need to run out after Jungkook was visceral, and it’s been eating at you.

You sigh out shakily, wetting your lips with a dart of your tongue before pulling on a dry part. It rips a little, and you taste metal in your mouth. Of course you’ve made yourself bleed.

You lick the blood clean until you can’t taste it anymore before taking a long sip of white wine. You don’t like the taste – it makes you wince a little as the aftertaste rolls on your tongue, but you manage to take another sip before putting the glass down.

Your hands are shaking – you haven’t been so anxious since the night you broke things off with him. Because you could see the ravage that you caused to him – he’s been going through hell, far more than you have.

It makes you feel guilty. It’s all your fault, and you’re too aware of it. Too guilty, blaming yourself for thoroughly breaking the one that you love, telling yourself that yes, Jimin was right.

You don’t deserve to be the one comforting Jungkook anymore.

The thought hits like a wrecking ball, and you sit back in your chair as you fight a wave of tears. Maybe Jiho noticed, because she pushes Lisa your way.

“Tell Auntie about your new hobby!”

You furrow your brows, hurriedly blinking the tears away as Lisa starts talking about the choir she joined. She’s way too enthusiastic for you, but you still manage to follow, noticing from the corner of your eyes that Hobi and Charles have returned. Jiho sits her son on her as Hobi claims the seat next to her, and they share a sweet kiss that has your eyes slide back to Lisa.

“I want to be the lead singer!” Lisa concludes. “Dad says I can if I want.”

“You’ll have to be the best singer,” you tell her.

She narrows her eyes, putting her small fists on her hips. “I am the best singer!” she insists as she stomps the ground, and it makes you laugh.

“I know you are,” you tell her, ruffling her hair.

She shrieks, and she ducks away before moving to her father, at the same time as a couple’s dance is announced. It was family dances before, and you danced in the first one with Lisa, as she’s your goddaughter. She was ecstatic, and it was your first time realizing that she has her father and mother’s talent when it comes to dance.

If she wants, Lisa can be much more than just the lead singer of a choir.

“I’ll let you guys go,” you tell Jiho and Hobi. “I’ll take care of the kids.”

You catch Jiho’s gaze as it goes fully round, her mouth falling open. You cock an eyebrow in question, but then Lisa screams, “Uncle Jungkook!” and everything makes sense.

As if time has slowed, you glance over your shoulder to see Jungkook standing behind you. He bends down as Lisa stops in front of him, pulling at the lapels of his suit jacket. He picks her up effortlessly, seemingly unbothered that he’s standing closer to you than he has since the day you came to pick up your stuff at the apartment.

“If it isn’t my favourite niece,” he says, and Lisa coos and giggles as Jungkook pinches her cheek. He then continues, as if unaffected by the weight of the world, “But I’m here to speak to your aunt.”

Your throat goes dry, especially as he puts Lisa down. Jimin calls her, and the little girl saunters away as Jimin asks her to dance with him.

Jungkook’s gaze finds yours. It’s like earlier – his eyes are filled with soul-deep sorrow, yet you also see a glimmer in there.

A light you thought had gone out the night you broke up with him.

He takes a step closer to you, and the distance is even smaller now. If he reached out, he’d be able to touch you. He’s close yet so far, and the cold seeps back in. You didn’t even notice it was gone until winter settles like a thick blanket over you again. Or you’d just gotten used to it, and Jungkook’s proximity reminds you of it now.

“Hey,” he says.

A simple word, yet it conveys so much emotion you find yourself choking around the lump in your throat. His brows furrow in concern, but you quickly take another sip of wine to help ease it. You almost expect Jungkook to be gone by the time you turn back around, but he’s still there, waiting patiently for you to settle your gaze back on him.

“Hey,” you finally manage to reply.

He tentatively smiles, though it dies as he glances at Hobi and Jiho. They’re watching intently, and you wonder if they know how is it that Jungkook is so close, all of a sudden.

“I wanted to ask…” Jungkook starts, and you return your attention to him.

His hair is longer. Not as long as it was when you first started dating, but you know he hasn’t had it so long in a long time. He’s styled it for the wedding, giving him a princely look in his pale suit that has your mind forgetting how to breathe.

Or maybe his next words are the cause.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks. “With me?”

Because it’d always be with him. He’s asked you this question countless times before – even distance can’t undo the natural answer to it. You know it deep in your heart, and you think the universe knows it too.

The cataclysm of you and him still has its repercussions in the tapestry of the universe, doesn’t it?

“Yes.”

Hope. It’s hope in his eyes. You know it, and it burns brighter as he extends a hand for you to take. The moment your clammy hand finds his, his fingers close around yours, ever so gently. You feel it deep within you – you think you even hear thunder in the distance, a sound that reverberates through your soul. And as he leads you to the dancefloor, tugging you behind him, you think all eyes are on you.

It does feel like it, as if you’re the main characters to the story, and not Taehyung and Jo. And right in this moment, you allow yourself to think that you are.

To think that this dance means more than just a dance. But then again, you know that dancing will always mean more to you and Jungkook than just that.

The song is slow. A ballad that forces couples closer, and the warmth of Jungkook’s body engulfs you as he stands close in front of you, his large hands claiming your waist as yours instinctively rest on his shoulders. You don’t move for a moment – your gazes connect as you stand there, and it’s an embrace sweeter than honey.

Especially in this cold winter.

“Hey,” he repeats, softer this time.

His eyes are shining. He doesn’t blink it away, and you smile up at him. “Hey.”

He then starts moving, finding the beat almost right away. You follow him, even though you’re just as much of a dancer as him, even though you might be a little out of practice, compared to the early days of you and him. You don’t think it matters – his gaze still holds yours, and you wish the dance will stretch into eternity.

You don’t want to go back to reality.

“How have you been?” he asks.

It’s a treacherous question. He knows the answer just as well as you, but you still allow it to him.

“I’ve been…” you trail off, slightly shrugging. “Surviving.”

You see him gulp as he nods once. He doesn’t say anything, and you move in a circle before you ask him the same question.

His gaze burns fiercely for a second, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by the same hope. You don’t want to interpret the burning – it resembles something ugly you didn’t think still exists in Jungkook when it comes to you.

“I’ve had better days,” he answers, and it’s a little flat.

Your heart aches, knowing that this wasn’t all he wanted to say. Because of you. The words are unsaid, well you still hear them clear as day. They ring through you, echo in the vast emptiness of your heart that he once occupied.

His hands tighten on your waist, almost unnoticeably. Yet you’re too in sync with his actions, even today. You feel it as it burns through your skin, and you move your hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck.

“You’ve let your hair grow out,” you point out as some of it tickles the back of your hands.

“Yeah,” he says. His big doe eyes hold yours, bore into yours. You wonder if he can see your cracked soul underneath the surface. “You too.”

You didn’t even notice. “Did I?”

His gaze scans your features, and then one of his hands lets go of your waist. He grabs a strand of hair, swirls it around his finger before letting it fall so that he can reclaim the spot on your waist.

“You did.”

The conversation is awkward, pointless. You don’t think you or he cares about that. But somehow you don’t find anything else to say. You just revel in this instant of you and him together, again. Indulge in it, because you know it isn’t bound to last.

“How’s work?” he asks, and he pulls at his piercing.

It’s only then that you notice the new one – you don’t know how you could have missed it. “You got a new piercing?”

His eyes trail down, before finding your gaze again. “I did. Do you like it?”

You do, sort of. It suits him well. “Yeah.”

He gulps, nodding his head before repeating his question about work.

And what a good question it is. Because you asked to change departments after what happened with Harrison, and you haven’t been enjoying it as much as you did your first position in the firm. Which then makes you think that the last man’s embrace you felt wasn’t Jungkook’s. It was Harrison’s, in a moment of weakness that you’ve been regretting since it happened.

But you can’t take it back. You and Jungkook are over.

“I’ve changed departments,” you admit. “It’s not as fun as before.”

He purses his lips. “Why then did you change?”

“I needed some change,” you answer truthfully.

It casts shadows in his doe eyes, shadows that you push away as you run a hand through the hair at the back of his head, almost instinctively. He looks unsure for a second, before a slight frown moves back to his features. Not one of contempt or anger – he’s trying to appear strong, but it only makes him look sorrowful.

“I hope it worked.”

You gulp. “Thanks, Kook.”

His eyes shut, and he hangs his head low, pain casted on his features. He’s defeated – you’re the winner, claiming the victory of the battle of you and him.

You wish you could take it back.

“What about you?” you ask.

He shakes his head slightly. “Do you even care?”

Tears blur your gaze, and blinking them away proves to be fruitless.

“You know that I do,” you tell him.

He rests his forehead against yours, and your eyes flutter shut. You’re barely dancing now, and you’ve stopped hearing the music a moment ago. All there is is you and him, in a pocket space outside of this world.

In that forgotten space that always belonged to you and him. A space you had forgotten indeed, yet it finds you like you think it always will.

“I hate it,” he murmurs, and you think he didn’t mean to say it aloud. The words fall in the space between you, float to your ears until they’ve slipped in your mind, infecting it with pain that trickles down to your heart.

He sighs, and he tugs you a little closer. You allow it, allow him to wrap his arms around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. He starts swaying you to the music again, and it’s somehow awkward. Maybe because of the proximity, or maybe because you both don’t care for the dance right now. There’s just the embrace, the proximity of two souls who never should have lost each other.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. You hear the tremolo of your voice, know that it means the tears are about to win.

He chuckles bitterly. “Are you really?”

You try to pull away to look up at him, but he doesn’t let you do it. “Can we just have this moment?”

He rests his cheek on top of your head, and you feel his body shake as he tightens his grip on you. “Do you even want that?”

This time, when you try to pull away he allows it. Your gazes meet, though your vision is so blurry you have trouble making out his features. And it’s a good question. Do you want to be with him right now, in this moment, when it’s bound to end far too soon?

Are you selfish enough to break his heart all over again?

Would you break his heart all over again?

“Yes, I do want it,” you admit.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. He stops the swaying, and his arms loosen around you. “Fuck.”

“Kook…”

You feel the panic as it rises in him. He grows stiff next to you, his gaze widens as if he realized he’s making a mistake. His waterline turns wet, and he doesn’t blink it away. Lets the first tear roll down his cheek, and surprisingly it isn’t met by others.

“This is stupid,” he says. He laughs, and he sounds crazed and pained as he slightly shakes his head. “I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.”

“Jungkook.”

“No, for real?” he lets out. “I can’t do this.”

And then he’s slipping through your fingers, like sand on the beach. You can’t hold onto him – you were lucky to have been able to hold on to him for seven years. But he is that – immortal in the way that he’ll always slip through your fingers.

You watch him go. Feel the soul-shattering angst of watching your lover go, again. This time it’s his choice – would he have walked away someday if you hadn’t broken up with him first?

Would he have walked down that road by himself, or did he need the nudge forward?

You blink back the tears, but it really is fruitless. They slip on your cheeks, and you hold in a sob, knowing that you can’t ruin tonight. Taehyung and Jo deserve happiness, joy and beauty, today.

And there’s no beauty in heartbreak.

You let your feet carry you. Know that they’re following the same path he just took. Know that your friends are watching you, some apologetically, others disapprovingly, yet you can’t stop.

You follow him out into the night, though your eyes take too long to adjust. You’re blinded outside – darkness seeps into your gaze, and you can’t see where he’s gone.

All you know is that you have to find him. Have to tell him that you love him because yes, you’re selfish. You haven’t stopped loving him, and if you can have tonight, you’ll have it.

Then perhaps the past will be erased and you’ll have tomorrow too.        

As your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness of the world outside, you can’t help but glance up. It isn’t as dark as you initially thought – the moon shines ever so brightly in the sky above, and stars shy away from her glow.

Without seeing where Jungkook went, you still decide to walk down the deck to the lawn. You curse yourself as your heels dig in the grass like they were doing earlier during the ceremony, and you take them off.

The cool sensation of dew on your skin makes a shiver move up your spine, and you scan your surroundings, holding your heels in one hand. He’s nowhere to be seen, and for a moment you’re left wondering, was he a ghost after all?

Did you imagine him today, craving his proximity too much?

But then you push away the dramatic thoughts. He was right there, in the flesh. You felt his warmth against you, a beacon in the cold winter of your soul. So you trust your instinct. Let your feet carry you towards the small bridge, on the other side of a bosquet of trees. You took pictures there earlier today, trying not to look towards him where he stood to the side with Jimin and the other boys waiting for their turn.

You make it to the clearing behind the bosquet, and you see the bridge in the distance. The silvery light of the night shines softly here, and you almost feel like you’ve stepped into a parallel universe, where magic could mend you and him.

Can magic erase distance?

You see him, on the bridge. He’s leaning on the railing, and if he hears you approaching he doesn’t show it. He just looks down at the water, and you see little gems of silver on his cheeks, leaving damp trails behind.

You stop before the bridge, allowing him distance, feeling like he’s on the other side of the world, yet so close you can almost touch.

“I can’t,” he says, adding your name in a plea that almost makes your knees give out under you. “I really can’t.”

“Can I come next to you?”

He doesn’t reply at first. He does turn his head towards you, and the sight of his anguish hits you like a punch to your gut. You want to reach out, to run to him and hold him tight until all the pieces of him have healed, but you know it’s impossible.

Not when you were the one to break him, and you in the process.

“Yeah…”

You didn’t want to expect his answer, but then again you knew he’d say yes. Because you doubt Jungkook would ever say no to you. So you step closer, and put your heels back on when you reach the bridge, for a reason unknown.

Jungkook watches you do it, and when you’re finally ready, you move closer to him. You stand close enough that your whole body relaxes, as if knowing that it’s home.

“It’s been hell for me too,” you say as you look over the pond. The moon reflects in the still water, and somewhere in the distance crickets sing the song of their people. “But you know, that’s how distance felt, too.”

He laughs, and it breaks into a sob as he puts his head on his forearm. “Fuck off.”

“Jungkook, I’m serious,” you insist. “It was hard and I’m not doing any better now.”

“You…” he starts as he looks up, and his features are casted in that same devastating hatred you’ve glimpsed at earlier. “You fucking broke up with me. You fucking decided to end it. You don’t get to come here and tell me you’ve been feeling like shit when this is all your fault.”

“All my fault!” you burst. “All my fault, Jungkook? Who couldn’t even call me when he was away? Who kept telling me empty promises? Who chose to leave time and time again?”

“It was my fucking job!”

He’s borderline yelling now, and you reckon you should stop. You reckon this is not the reason why you followed him in the first place, but like a wheel that’s started rolling down a hill, you can’t stop.

“And you chose it over our relationship,” you grind out. “And it’s fine! It’s fucking fine but you couldn’t just take me for granted.”

“I didn’t choose anything,” he says, and you notice his clenched fists at his side. A muscle ticks under his skin as he clenches his jaw too. “You forced it upon me. I would have dropped the job.”

“I didn’t want to take your dream away from you. Surely you can’t blame me for that?”

He hangs his head again, runs his hand through his hair, tugging so hard you almost expect him to rip it from his scalp. “You took everything. You fucking took everything.”

“I did not,” you insist. “I let you have Bam, I let you have the apartment, I removed myself to make it as easy as possible for you.”

“Fuck you,” he growls. “Who knew you were so easy to hate?”

Something akin to memory takes shape in your mind. The memory of your early days, the years before you even ended up together. When insults were common between you, when hate was prominent in your relationship.

Who knew you’d circle back to it one day?

“Hate me, then,” you challenge him. “Hate me, Jungkook. Hate me until you’re not crying over me anymore. Hate me until you’ve moved on and started loving someone else.”

He doesn’t answer anything. He just holds your gaze, unyielding, hatred and hurt and longing swirling in his eyes in a melting pot you can’t quite follow.

And then you realize that this is why you followed him. Closure, for him perhaps. Because you want him to hate you just as much as you hate yourself.

At least then you can still have something in common with him.

“Please,” you beg, voice wavering as tears find your gaze again, turning it silver in the light of the moon.

The moment he grabs your face and crashes his lips on yours, you come undone. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you clutch his blazer, grip so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if the fabric tore.

And you kiss him back. You kiss him back with so much pain, trying to remember what it was to fall in love with him back then.

It was natural. Like the sun rises every morning, or like the stars shine at night. Falling in love with Jeon Jungkook was as natural as breathing. It was as natural as his hands leaving a fiery mark on the skin of your face.

You break harder then, but you let yourself break. Let yourself taste his tears and yours on his mouth, let yourself indulge in Jeon Jungkook like you always should have been doing. You kiss him languidly, lap at his piercings as he deepens the kiss, turning his head to the side.

The dance of his lips on yours is a song to your soul, no matter if it’s born from hatred. Because still, as one of his hands drops to your waist to pull you flush against him, you wish he’ll hate you.

Maybe then you’ll be able to move on too.

Your heart reaches for him, in the space between you. You wonder if it finds what remains of his. You don’t think you’ll ever get the answer, because he pulls away and takes a step back, leaving you flustered and breathing raggedly.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” he asks.

The hot tub. As if you’d ever forget that.

“What?”

“Do you?”

“Jungkook…”

He scoffs, shakes his head. “Do you remember?”

“How can I forget?”

He gulps, audibly so, the only indication that he’s still on the verge of breaking down. “Do you remember when we danced?” He looks up, motions to the sky and then drops his gaze to you again. “I knew I was in love with you then.”

You’re crying. You can’t help it, because you know that’s when you fell in love with him too.

“I know,” you say, voice heavy with the emotions.

“Do you remember the hotel roof? And the night after that?”

“What are you trying to say?” you ask, pleadingly as you try not to break too hard.

“Do you remember?” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

You nod.

“Do you remember the first time I told you I love you? At my art exhibit?”

Now you do break. Your knees, far too weak, don’t support your weight anymore, and you crouch before falling in a kneeling position. You hide your face behind your hands, hoping to find salvation.

“Do you remember?” he asks, his voice sounding distant from above.

“I do.”

“You remember the pictures, huh? You remember the poem I wrote?”

“Stop,” you say between two sobs.

“You remember, yeah?” he insists as he bends, pulling your hands away from your face.

His grip on your wrists is tight. It hurts and you flinch as you see the anger burning on his features. You recognize him as the man that succumbed to his demons, after his accident.

It seems his demons have caught up to him again.

“Yes.”

He laughs then. Almost maniacally, and he lets go of your wrist. “Then how can you fucking ask me to hate you?” He scoffs, but then he’s crying again, and he falls to his knees in front of you too. “How can you fucking ask that of me?”

“I just want you to be okay,” you answer truthfully. “I don’t want you to hurt.”

He chuckles bitterly. “How can I be okay when I lost you?”

“You have to be,” you insist. For what you don’t know. You just want one of you to be okay, and you know it can’t be you.

“Why?” he asks. “Have you been able to move on?”

“No.”

“Then why do I have to be okay without you?” he enquires, and he breaks down. It’s not pretty, and you move closer so that you can pull him in your embrace. He sobs against your chest, his tears wetting the fabric of your dress. You don’t care – you pull him closer, hiding your face in the top of his head, smelling the familiar scent of his shampoo.

“I’m so sorry,” you cry in his hair, and his arms snake around you to hold you close too. You rub his back, shake as if winter has won over your freezing corpse – even his proximity doesn’t warm you anymore.

He breaks for a long time, in time with you. You break together again, always, and you just hope you could go back. Go back and erase and let him quit his job. Would that have been selfish? Maybe.

Maybe, but you’re now realizing you should have been selfish.

“Can we be together, tonight?” he asks after an eternity.

You nod against him. “Yes.”

He pulls away, and you instinctively reach to dry his damp cheeks. His big doe eyes survey you carefully, and when you’re done, head falling again, he gently lifts it with a finger under your chin.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” he breathes. “Maybe I’ll hate you then.”

*****

                It’s hard to believe you’re right next to him, walking with him back to where his car is parked. Jungkook is embarrassed of the conversation on the bridge, but most of it he needed to tell you.

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you he already hates you. He’s pretty sure it’s the first time he’s lied to you, and most likely the last too.

He doesn’t think you would survive if he told you he hates you. Because how can he love you like before when you broke his heart like you did? How can he trust you? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t think the stars above know either.

Because if they knew, he’s pretty sure they would have whispered the answer to him already. But then again, he’s struck thinking that most of the distant astral lights have perished a long time ago – of course they aren’t aligning for you and him.

He needs tonight. That much he’s sure of. Indeed, no matter what you said, no matter that you begged on your knees, he doesn’t want to hate you. So maybe tonight will be about closure – he’s unsure.

All that he knows is that his heart is beating steadier in his chest than it has in weeks at the thought of spending one last night with you.

You’d gone back inside to explain why you were leaving. Well, Jungkook spoke to Jo, and she said that she understood. That both she and Taehyung would never hold it against you and him if you left. Meanwhile, you’d been trying to calm Lisa down from a breakdown she was having, which seemed to be successful because by the time Jungkook met you again, Lisa was a giggly mess.

And now his car is right in front of you and him. He unlocks it, can’t help himself and opens the door for you, and the brush of your arm against his as you move to get in makes his heart cease in his chest.

Touching you feels like he’s struck with lightning. It hasn’t felt that way in forever, and it reminds him of dance practices, of hotel roofs and of hot tubs some lost night years ago. It really does, and he’s swimming in memories of you as he walks around the car to sit in the driver’s seat.

He’s turning the keys in the engine when you lightly touch his arm, gaining his undivided attention.

“Didn’t you drink?” you ask, voice so soft he barely hears it.

He pulls at his piercing. “Only one glass over dinner.”

There’s one streetlamp in the parking lot. If it wasn’t for the bright moon above, Jungkook wouldn’t be able to see your features. But he can, and he sees as they cloud over from his statement. It’s hard to tell why – perhaps because during dinner, you hadn’t known you’d have tonight together.

Hell, he was convinced he was going to die by the end of the night. Frankly, he still thinks so. He can’t survive losing you again, he’s aware of it. The first time nearly killed him, deconstructed all the progress he’s made on himself through the years, brought him back to the days of darkness surrounding his accident.

When he’d turned in a version of him he’s come to hate, looking back. Mostly because it impacted his friendship with Taehyung, but also because it made him quit dance. Made him ghost all of you, only for you to reappear like a light at the end of a tunnel at a random bar on a Thursday evening.

He still remembers that night. The moment he’d seen you, he’d immediately known the night was going to be a disaster. So he’d done what he used to do best – he’d teased you until breaking point, and felt victorious when you’d grown aggressive.

Yet, when he’d seen you dance on that damned dance floor, he’d been struck. He’d watched you, feeling like it was his first time ever seeing you, and then you’d walked over to him to give him shit for it.

He can’t help the tug upwards of the corners of his lips at the memories. Until he remembers what had happened after – you flirting with Jimin, that is.

He shakes the memories away, focuses on driving to the hotel where you’re staying, trying not to glance your way. Ignoring the weight of your gaze on him, lest anger take a hold of him again.

He doesn’t want to be angry, not right now. He wants to find a way to enjoy this moment, yet he knows he needs to lock his heart far away, needs to throw the key even farther away. Not that there’s something left of his heart – you irreversibly shattered it, unforgivingly poured gasoline on it and set it to fire.

Because hating you is wrong, yet it is the only thing he seems to be able to do, as his thoughts circle back to how you broke him. How you could drop seven years of a relationship just like that..

The car is silent. He’s turned off the radio as he started driving, and you’ve been stubbornly silent too. As if you don’t know what to say, and he reckons he doesn’t know either. Because yes, there is this moment. A crack in the timeline of the rest of your lives – a dip in the past. But there can’t be more. He can’t let it be more.

He mindlessly drums his thumb on the wheel as he drives, pulling at his new piercing anxiously. You’re nearing the hotel – in a second you’ll be parked outside. Then he’ll bring you up to his room, hope that it won’t make everything worse to be with you.

He knows it will. He’s just a damned fool, isn’t he?

“Are you okay?” you ask, words piercing through the tension in the car.

Jungkook hums an answer that clearly means nothing, because you repeat the question with that no-bullshit tone you used whenever he said something stupid.

“I’m fine,” he lies. “Just…”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Of course you understand. He wonders if you feel the same way to a certain extent. If there’s hatred boiling in your heart too. If you hate him for risking your relationship so much by forcing the distance on it, until it made it implode. He wonders if you hate him for not fighting for you more when he should have. He wouldn’t blame you if you did – there’s a certain beauty in knowing that you might share the same emotion as him. Makes him feel less guilty, though he knows it’s just a matter of time before the guilt catches up to him.

“What is?” he asks.

“Being together,” you say, and he sees you shrugging from the corner of his eyes. “Though I’m really happy I get to be with you right now.”

It’s like a knife that slices across his throat. He almost tastes blood in his mouth – wouldn’t be surprised to see it spill on his pale suit, ruining the fabric. Yet it remains unspoiled, and he forces the ache down. Puts it where his heart is, until all that’s left is a vast emptiness he’s been growing accustomed to.

You finally reach the hotel, and Jungkook turns into the parking lot, not replying anything. Mostly because he doesn’t think he can speak right now – he doesn’t want to burst into tears again, and at least that way you know that there’s just now.

Hopefully at the end of the night, he won’t fold and let you break him again.

“Your room or my room?” Jungkook asks, and it’s rhetorical. He already knows he’ll bring you to his – he doesn’t want to sleep in sheets that smell like you, though he’s pretty sure his will have taken your scent after he’s done with you.

“We can go to yours,” you thankfully answer. “Just have to stop by mine to get clothes and my makeup remover.”

He nods, slides his gaze to you as he takes the keys out of the ignition. You look pained, and he immediately looks away, not wanting to let it shatter his resolve. He’s pretty sure he hears you gulp, but you’re strong. That much he admires of you – he knows that if you decide not to break again tonight, nothing will hurt you. Nothing will make you crumble, not even him. He’s not even sure he has that power over you anymore, the way that you have it over him. There’s just you – only you can break yourself.

As the silence prolongs, you heave out a sigh before deciding to get out of the car. He follows you, locking the doors over his shoulder as you beeline for the hotel’s hall. You walk in, barely acknowledging the receptionist. Jungkook nods to her, offers her a tight-lipped smile that she returns with cheeks turning red. It makes him want to roll his eyes, but he refrains from doing so, focusing on the back of your head instead. You stop at the elevator, punch on the button to call it. Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, realizing now that you’re frustrated.

Clearly, you’ve sensed that he’s grown cold, and you don’t like it. It makes him feel powerful, and his lips stretch in a corner smile that you gaze at, before slightly shaking your head as you look away. Then it’s silent in the elevator, though it grows tense. It’s different than in the car – Jungkook pictures himself turning your around, bending you over until he can fuck you into oblivion.

He takes a sharp inhale as his blood heats up in his veins, and he thinks you feel the shift in the atmosphere. Because where you seemed frustrated just a moment ago, you now seem shy, embarrassed. You pull at some dry skin on your lower lip, something he knows you do when you’re anxious. You fold your arms on your chest, shift from one foot to the other.

He’s about to push you against the wall of the elevator when the doors slide open, and he reluctantly follows you as you head towards your room. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to make it to his. His arousal has been growing steadily, and his dick is already semi-hard.

It must have clouded his senses, because it’s when you slide your magnetic key in the lock that he realizes you have the room right across from his, in a weird twist of fate. It makes him chuckle, which attracts your attention.

“What?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow as you push the door open.

He motions over his shoulder. “I’m in the room right across the hall.”

Your gaze widens, but then you turn away and your features disappear from his view. He follows you in, waiting by the door as you move in the room proper. You’d left a light on when you left, so he sees you well, takes his time to admire you.

Something he hasn’t done today, fearing what his gaze on you would do to him. But now that he’s looking, he’s realizing just how attractive you look. The dress you chose for the wedding emphasizes your curves perfectly, as it’s tight in all the right places. The dark blue color also goes along with your skin tone well, making it look like you’re glowing, standing there.

And then you’re bending, rummaging through the suitcase you’ve left on the couch, and the fabric stretches on your ass, leaving little to the imagination. His throat goes dry with need, and he pulls at his piercing hard, trying to get a grip of himself.

He reckons it doesn’t work. He reckons the moment you’ll be in his room, he’ll pin you against the wall. He’ll make you see what you missed for those few months – what he missed – and maybe then he’ll hate you less.

You straighten, holding a pair of baby blue shorts and a black t-shirt, clearly oversized. You barely glance at him before disappearing into the bathroom, yet his brows furrow.

Was that his shirt?

It’s confirmed when you step out of the bathroom, your cleanser and makeup remover stacked on top of the clothes. He just looks at it – he knows it’s his, though he thought he’d lost it a long time ago. Something shakes deep within him – like a volcano about to erupt, the grounds of his soul shake. He ignores the feeling, pushing it to the far back of his conscience, until it is but a mere speck in his mind.

You make your way back to him, having found everything that you needed. You also have a toothbrush in your hands, but no toothpaste. You’re probably just going to use his. There’s domesticity in the thought, and Jungkook strengthens his resolve even more. How, he doesn’t know, but as he holds your gaze he forces himself to not feel anything.

Anything but the arousal that’s making his dick twitch in his pants as he dips his gaze in the low cleavage of your dress. You don’t miss it, and when his eyes find yours again, he can see the lust slowly taking over you too.

You don’t exchange a word. Don’t say anything as you cross the hall and enter his own room. Contrary to what he wanted to do at first, he doesn’t pin you against the wall right away. He lets you put your stuff down on the dresser a few steps in as he kicks off his dress shoes. Lets you gaze at the discarded items of clothing from yesterday that he’s kicked in a ball at the foot of it. You don’t say anything about it, only turn to look at him again as he walks over to you.

Like a predator stalking his prey. At least that’s how he feels in the moment, because you take a step back. It makes him raise an eyebrow arrogantly as he cocks his head to the side.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and he takes another step forward.

Like an echo, you take a step back. “What?”

He wets his lips before moving his tongue to his piercing. Holding your gaze, he removes the blazer of his suit, throwing it on the bed. Your eyes follow his moves, and you look slightly scared.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

He scoffs, bitterly. “Stop asking questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

And then he’s upon you. Hands holding your face in place as he ravishes a kiss on your lips, as he pushes you against the dresser until he’s forced you to sit on it. The fabric of your dress bunches up at your waist, and his hands drop to it so that they can slide under, feeling your soft skin.

You hesitantly wrap your legs around his waist before pulling him flush against you. His dick strains against his pants, and he rocks his hips forward in search for friction. Immediately you moan, and he sucks on your lower lip before pulling away.

Because he needs to see you. Needs to see your flushed cheeks, your parted lips as you breathe raggedly. Your round eyes hold his gaze, looking so innocently sinful.

How could you break his heart?

He doesn’t want to know. So he crashes his lips against yours again, swallows your moans as they come, runs his hands on your warm skin. It’s as soft as he remembered – like a flower petal – and he wonders if it’ll wither someday. If someday you’ll be old and grey, and he won’t recognize you anymore. He doubts it, believes his soul would always know you. And it hurts thoroughly. Hurts so much he pulls away from the kiss, grabs a handful of your hair to force you to tilt your head to the side so that he can suck a hickey on your skin.

A deep purple mark that proves one day you were his, and the next you weren’t.

“Kook,” you moan as he licks at the mark, and he meets your gaze for a second, grinding his hips into you again.

“What?”

“Fuck me,” you say. “Please fuck me.”

He shakes his head, taking a step away from you. You look confused, but keep your pretty thighs parted for him, clearly hoping he’ll come back. He can’t resist but kneel between your legs, and he unbuttons his pants so that he can position his dick in a way that doesn’t hurt. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, a goddess fallen to hell as you await the sins.

“Why would I?” he asks as he’s kneeling there. “You think you deserve it?”

And even though his words make it seem like he won’t, he still touches you. Cups your pussy, dick twitching as he finds it soaking wet through your panties. You don’t answer, instead arching your back as he rubs against your clit with his thumb.

“What a fucking whore,” he mutters, more to himself.

As a couple, you’ve never been really big on degradation. Yes, you both enjoyed it from time to time, but he’s never said the words like that – like he means it. The reaction is worth it. You moan his name, a breathless plea that makes him dive between your legs, pushing your panties to the side so that he can taste your juice.

You taste just as good as he remembers. Sweet like honey, with an inebriating side that reminds him of alcohol, and he knows he’ll be drunk by the time you come all over his chin. So he laps you up, pushes his tongue in to feel your tight walls against his wet muscle. He holds your gaze, though you soon throw your head back in pleasure, breaking eye contact.

He fucks you with his tongue, drinks you up until his head swims with your taste, and then he pulls away. Sits back on his heels, wipes his chin with the back of his hand as he tilts his head to the side.

“Feels good?” he asks.

You nod. “Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, meeting his gaze again.

You look dizzy, drunk, pupils blown wide with lust and something else he doesn’t want to interpret. So he ignores it, leans forward to flick the sensitive nub of your clit. Your thighs clench around his head, and he forces them open before sitting back on his heels again.

“You want me to make you come?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow arrogantly.

“Please.”

The nerves on you. He hates you even more now, because why the fuck do you think you deserve it? You threw him away, threw your relationship away as if it meant nothing – as if seven years were just a moment, now painted into a past that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

So he scoffs. Shakes his head, though he still leans forward again. Sucks on your clit, gently, and flicks the nub again and again like it’s a lollipop. You moan loud and clear, his name a sinful melody carried by your beautiful voice, and he forces his eyes shut because he doesn’t need to see this.

Doesn’t need to see the pleasure he creates in you, doesn’t need to see something he’s come to miss far more than he should, and that he knows he’ll miss even more after tonight.

One of your hands drops to his head, and he freezes for a second as you gently run your hand through the strands. But when you tug, hard, he sucks, drawing circles on your clit as you grind into his face.

One large hand finds your waist, and he forces you to still as he slides his other hand between your legs. A second later he’s curling a finger inside of you, and your tight walls clench around the digit as he finds your g-spot.

“Kook, fuck,” you moan.

He can’t resist. No matter how insane it’ll make him, he can’t resist opening his eyes. Can’t resist watching you as you near your high, as you palm your breast through the dress, finding your hardened nipple to pinch it. Your cheeks and neck are flushed red, beads of sweat are rolling down your temple even though you’ve been making no effort, and that most of all tells him that you’re close.

So he flicks your clit again, before resting his tongue flat against it to move the wet muscle from side to side, right as he pushes a second finger inside of you. He fucks you like that, pushing the digits knuckles deep before rubbing at your sweet spot, adding scissoring motions when your walls clench too hard.

And he watches. He watches as your orgasm finds you, and you cry out his name in a series of moans that make him go crazy, that make him want more of you, all of you, until he’s forgotten that he ever lost you.

He’ll remember soon again, but tonight… Tonight he’ll allow himself to forget.

To forget the ache and the pain and the distance and the fact that, seven years ago, he should have known. Should have known that you weren’t made of the stuff that lasts.

The stars were liars, in that July night sky.

You come for a long time, juice dripping from his chin to his thighs. He feels it, every drop of it, and when he finally pulls away and looks down at himself, he sees the stains. They look more beautiful than the stains that you’ve left on his soul, and if that’s all that he’ll have of you, then he’ll gladly take it.

He gets up, slowly, and your eyes flutter open to watch him do so. Your chest is moving up and down rapidly, and you look fucked out, sitting there on that dresser. He’s proud of himself, for having that effect on you, even more so when your eyes shut and you sigh in content, a smile curling your lips upwards.

“That felt good,” you murmur.

His heart aches momentarily, and he shoves it away as he nods, even though you can’t see it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then you’re straightening, opening your eyes to meet his gaze again. He helps you to stand up, though you wobble on your feet for an instant. When you’re able to stand alone, he lets you go, and he sucks at his piercing as the taste of you still coats his mouth.

“Can I suck your dick?” you ask, and you rest a hand flat on the imprint of his dick, rubbing along the length.

He cocks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “You want me in your mouth?”

You nod, biting at your lower lip.

“Lie down on the bed.”

You throw him an inquisitive gaze, and he motions to the bed. You glance that way, before nodding once and making your way to it. You sit on the edge, looking so unsure he decides to step forward.

“Want to get out of your dress first?” he asks gently, and he hates that he’s still gentle with you.

Though he’s not going to be gentle all night.

“Yes,” you agree, and you immediately spring up again, which makes you chuckle as you wobble once more.

He steadies you with hands on your waist, always ready to catch you, and he can’t help the small laugh that falls from his mouth. You freeze, looking up at him with your sweet, innocent eyes again, as if you didn’t expect him to laugh with you tonight.

He reckons he didn’t expect it either, and perhaps if it wasn’t for the amnesia he’s allowing on himself, it wouldn’t have happened. Yet it did, and as always it felt natural. That’s when the hate creeps in again, and he sees the way your features fall as his harden.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, so softly he’s not even sure you said anything.

He ignores it. Makes you turn around so that he can unlace the dress, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. He takes his time, but soon enough the fabric of your dress pools around your ankles, and you’re standing in nothing but your underwear.

He grabs your ass with one large hand, palms at the meat of it, before he makes you turn around again. “On the bed,” he orders.

There’s a moment of tortured incomprehension, yet you must have found it in you to let tonight be tonight, because you obey him. You lie down, looking pretty as ever, your hair a crown around your head.

“Face the other way,” he says, and he palms himself as recognition lights up your gaze once you finally understand what’s going to happen.

He’s going to fuck your mouth. He doesn’t even want you to try to make him feel good; he doesn’t need the addiction. So instead he’ll use you to please himself, and maybe then, maybe he’ll hate you less.

When you’re positioned, head hanging from the bed just slightly, Jungkook finally takes off his pants. He pushes his boxers down at the same time, and his dick springs free. You eye it hungrily, and he almost thinks you’re already drooling, especially as you wet your lips and then meet his gaze.

You’ve dragged him to hell and he’ll never escape.

So he brings his dick forward, jerks it off a couple of times as he taps your lips for you to open up for him. He also pulls his shirt up, bunching it in one hand so that he can see everything. You open your mouth wide as you wait for him to push his cock in, and he watches you for a moment. Commits it to memory, and then gives in to his desires as he puts his tip in. You immediately close your lips around him, and he almost comes undone.

“Let me fuck your pretty mouth, mmh?” he tells you, and there’s an edge to his voice.

You don’t miss the edge, and maybe that’s why you obey right away. And then he watches as he slides his dick in, watches your throat as it moves to allow him in. He doesn’t push all the way in – slowly, he pulls almost all the way out, observing the spit that now coats his dick.

It makes it glisten in the dim light of the hotel room, and that most of all throws the rest of his restraint down the drain. He fucks your mouth, as deep as your throat allows, and he rests his hands on each side of you to find an angle that feels better. You’re making sounds every time he pushes in, moans and grunts that reverberate through his dick, sending him into a frenzy.

He barely leaves you time to breathe. Trusts you to stop him if you want him to stop, and soon he feels your drool as it rolls down his balls. It makes them tighten, and they sit heavy with the cum he’ll shoot down your throat. But he doesn’t want to come yet, wants to fuck your mouth until he’s erased all the stupid fucking words you said that night.

So he shuts his eyes, grunts loudly as the ghost of pain in his left leg awakens from his movements. It’s not nearly as intense as it used to be, and even then he never really let it stop him. As always, he just keeps on going, and some twisted, wicked part of him is even spurred on by the pain.

Even more so as you grip his forearms, and your nails dig in the skin. This time he moans, and he pushes all the way in, stopping there. He watches the imprint of his dick in your neck, feels you swallow around him.

He almost goes over the edge, but the tap of one of your hands on his arm brings him back to reality. He pulls out to the sight of spit connecting his dick and your mouth, and you cough as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Shit,” you curse, voice hoarse from his ministrations.    

He can’t help it. He can’t help the concern he’ll always have for you when he says, “Was that okay?”

There’s not enough blood in his brain for him to say more. Especially not as you turn and your mouth is on his dick again. And you don’t let him think, don’t give him the benefit of being gentle. You’re rough in your actions, and one of your hands is squeezing his balls by the time he’s realized you’ve taken the lead.

It’s too late for him to do anything – you know his body too well. So he lets one of his hands wander to your hair, puts it in a makeshift ponytail to watch you work on him. He doesn’t resist from cursing when you take him all the way in, and he can feel your throat constrict around his head as you swallow.

He’s so hard he thinks he’ll explode. You don’t relent, moving quickly, sloppily, with so much of your spit coating his dick he feels it on his balls again. And then you squeeze his balls, hard, and an explosion of white light blinds Jungkook.

It takes him a moment to understand he came. The orgasm takes him in its hold and doesn’t let go, forcing him to ride the wave as you milk it from him, as you drink his cum every time he spurts in your mouth. And even when he’s done, you still suck, forcing him to push you away as he cringes from oversensitivity.

“I didn’t want to come in your mouth,” is the only intelligent thing he manages to say as you sit up.

Something deep within him shakes as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer so you can rest your forehead on his lower stomach.

“It’s okay,” you murmur against his skin.

He puts his hands on your shoulders, shutting his eyes and he tries to calm the racing of his heart. But it’s gone wild – he doesn’t think he has it in himself to calm down. All there is is you, holding him, an anchor that finally found him in the storm of the last few months.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, voice tiny in a vulnerable way that he hates, that he’ll always hate. Because you weren’t supposed to make him vulnerable like this – like broken glass, barely repaired and forever scarred.

You tilt your head back, and he opens his eyes to meet your gaze. Tears twinkle in your eyes, making your gaze shine with the anguish you’ve clearly been through too.

And right in this instant, he can’t bring himself to hate you for it.

“We should take a shower,” you say, and you blink the tears away. A stubborn one wins against your eyelids, and he gently dries it with a finger.

“We should.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. Doesn’t see himself stepping back right now, stepping away. You’ve entranced him, with your mouth and with your pretty eyes. He wishes you were blind, wishes you couldn’t look at him the way that you are right now, because you’re bringing him back.

Pulling back all the emotions he’s been pushing away all night. Forcing him to drown in them, to drown in the torment, in the yearning and in the love, in the acidic burn of rage and hate that will soon overtake everything else.

But then you press a small kiss on his stomach, and the acidic burn meets the base, forcing it to reach neutral ground. It leaves him vulnerable, yes, but his head is far too clear.

You only have tonight.

“We should,” he repeats, nodding his head.

He grabs your wrists behind his back, forces you to let go of him. Gazes still connected, he pulls you up to your feet, and it feels as if he’s jumping right in the depths of your eyes, some place in which he knows he’s not welcomed anymore.

It’s hard to remember who pulled away first. Who guided the other towards the shower. The only thing Jungkook remembers next is you standing under the hot shower, and him with his arms wrapped around your middle. He rests his forehead on your shoulder, and you trace idle lines on his forearm, eliciting goosebumps in the wake of your fingers.

He doesn’t want to let you go. He will – when the sun rises he’ll let you go again, but all this hate has left him empty. So he holds you, lets you fill the hole in his soul.

It’s shaped like you anyway.

“How has Bam been doing?” you ask, catching him by surprise.

“He’s great,” he replies truthfully, and he presses a kiss on your shoulder. He’s purely acting by instinct right now, and he knows it’ll come to bite him in the ass sooner than later.

“I miss him…” you murmur, vulnerable too in the way your fingers still on his arm as your head hangs low. “I miss you two.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. A stupid, foolish part of him wants to beg you to come home, but what’s home now? He doesn’t even know. His apartment is foreign to you, and he has no idea where you live.

“I’ll wash your hair,” he says instead.

He does, using his bottle of shampoo, which coincidentally is the same that you use. Because after seven years, he got used to using it anyway, and after you, the scent was comforting, somehow. You sigh as he massages your scalp, and then you stand in the hot water, washing the soap away.

The foam goes down the drain, and Jungkook watches it go. Hopes it can carry the hate away too, though when he meets your gaze again, he wonders if the hate is preservation, for him.

You’d only break him again.

You look sad, infinitely so. Heartbroken, yet your beauty is still unmatched. He stands in awe, in a land of longing that will drive him crazy tomorrow, but that tastes sweet tonight. Like a poison – it’ll take a moment before the effects show up, but he knows this will make him sick to his stomach.

“Do you want to drink something?” you ask when you step out of the shower after you’ve finished washing up.

He ignores your gaze, instead focusing on the blurry shape of you in the fogged-up mirror. “I think there’s wine in the mini fridge.”

You nod, and the motion looks distorted in the mirror. Especially as you walk out of the bathroom, and you finally disappear, allowing him to breathe properly. It’s short-lived – you come back with a white wine bottle, and though you both don’t like the beverage, Jungkook knows that it will have to do.

Tonight is bitter anyway.

Dressed in his old t-shirt and your pair of baby blue shorts, you guide Jungkook on the balcony, claiming that the room feels too stuffy. He would have suggested cranking up the air-conditioning, but when he steps outside to see that the moon has finally dipped below the horizon, he knows better.

You belong to the blanket of stars in the sky.

He sits down on a chair, head turned towards the forest in the distance. It’s barely visible in the night, yet it cuts through the constellations, the same way your silhouette does where you’re standing by the railing. He watches you then, and he wonders how it is that you went wrong.

How could the universe allow it?

“The bottle is a twist-top,” you tell him over your shoulder.

He glances at it where you left it on the table. With a sigh, he reaches for it, opening it and taking a swig before handing it to you.

You grab it by the neck, and you take a longer sip than him, before coughing as you give it back to him.

“Shit, that’s not good wine.”

It makes him laugh. He thinks the stars, too, are laughing up above, celebrating his idiocy.

“It isn’t,” he agrees. “It’ll make do.”

You nod and then you turn back towards the horizon. “Do you think there are aliens out there?”

The question makes him frown in confusion, because his mind was nowhere near aliens. But now that you said it, he looks back to the twinkling lights in the sky, shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe.”

“Do you think they find us stupid?” you add. “Like, are we just ants to them, the way that ants are to us?”

“I think humanity has long lost the privilege of being interesting to alien civilization,” he says.

You laugh. “Damn.”

“What?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow quizzically.

You shrug, and you turn towards him, leaning against the railing. “That sounded really intelligent.”

“You think I’m not intelligent?”

You take a step toward him, and when he doesn’t flinch or move you decide to finish crossing the distance. He allows it as you sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around you as you cuddle into his chest.

“Never said that,” you murmur. “You’re a smart ass, I’ve always known that.”

“Is that a compliment?” he teases, and he hates himself for it.

He shouldn’t be teasing you. Shouldn’t be falling right back into habit with you, because you broke the wheel of habit a few months ago. And though tonight is a dive in the past, it’s only bound to end at some point.

“No.”

His mouth falls open, and he sits up straight, trying to push you away. “Excuse me?”

You giggle against him, and the sound is enough to erase everything in him, leaving him a blank canvas for you to stain again if you want.

“I’m just playing with you,” you say, and you shriek as he tickles your side. “Jungkook!”

“That was deserved,” he replies.

You look at him, and even in the dim light he can still see how you’ve narrowed your gaze. “M’kay.”

And then you’re settling back against his chest, claiming the wine bottle to take a sip. He takes one after you, and after, you sit in a comfortable silence, gazing at the stars. They watch like guardian angels, and when a shooting star crosses the heavens, Jungkook lets himself be foolish.

Lets himself wish that somehow you can mend everything. But deep down inside of him, the hate lingers, like an infection that’s not ready to heal. He knows it’ll come back, and that he’s comfortable with you right now only because of the afterglow of the orgasms you’ve pulled out of each other.

Still, he doesn’t voice his wish, hoping that superstition will win against the infection.

“What have you been up to?” you ask, voice sleepy.

Jungkook takes a sip of wine. “Not much,” he answers truthfully. “I’ve just been… taking care of myself. Taking care of Bam.”

“And work?”

He knew the question was coming, especially because earlier today, an entire world ago, you asked him. And he couldn’t answer – he hasn’t been working. Isn’t going to go back to Europe either.

“I’m taking a break,” he admits, choosing veracity over lies. “I don’t know if I’ll go back to Europe.”

And he hasn’t found anything here to replace it. Mostly because he doesn’t know if he wants to stay. Doesn’t know where to go if he doesn’t stay, but only knows that living in the same city as you, while not being with you, is not something he’s strong enough to do.

Maybe that’s why he’s been starting to look for jobs in Seoul. Not that he found one, but he thought maybe his salvation lies in his home country.

“Why not?” you ask him.

He takes a sip of wine, and you also drink before he replies. “The job lost its appeal.”

Because of you.

He doesn’t need to say it, yet the words hang in the air surrounding you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize.

As you have been doing all night, but this time he doesn’t let the words hurt him. Doesn’t let them make him feel anything, other than that sort of comfort he’s been enjoying since you’ve been sitting on the balcony.

“It’s fine,” he answers after a time. “I guess I needed some change too.”

An echo of what you said earlier. It kills the conversation, and Jungkook wraps his arms around you again to hold you close. You don’t speak for what feels like hours after that, drinking the wine until your minds have gone dizzy. The stars seem like they’re twirling above, dancing the same way he and you used to dance together.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks for the second time that night, though this time the setting is far more natural to the two of you.

“We’re tipsy,” you state, yet you still get up and hold out a hand for him.

“We’ve danced when we were a lot drunker than this,” he reminds you as he follows you up.

You wrap your arms around his neck, hands digging in his hair, while his find a home on your waist.

 You nod. “Like that time when we drank whiskey with my dad?”

Of course you would think about that time. His mind did wander there too, after the initial trip to a July night sky dotted with stars. It had been the beginning of the second year of your relationship, on your second trip to California together. Isabel and Louis had been out visiting some family, and your dad had suggested drinking some whiskey. You had, though he hadn’t been able to keep up with you and Jungkook, and had gone to bed around midnight while the two of you kept going until dawn had broken outside. You’d danced in the rising sun, two giggly messes as birds had sung around you, creating a melody you had claimed was too hard to follow.

You’d ended up falling asleep on the lawn, to be waken up by rain a few hours later.

“Exactly like that time,” he answers as you sway to the sounds of crickets this time. “Your dad didn’t even wake us up.”

“The pictures!” you let out, and you laugh. “Gosh, we looked so stupid.”

“You know I didn’t even do that in college.”

You look up at him, and he loses himself in your gaze. “Do what?”

“Fall asleep on the lawn at a party,” he explains. “Only that time with you.”

“And you think I have?” you say, tilting your head to the side.

He chuckles. “Nah, you weren’t enough of a party girl for it. Maybe if you’d been in a sorority though.”

You fake-gag. “Sorority life wasn’t for me.”

He laughs, and then a comfortable silence surrounds the two of you again, right in time for him to get lost in memories again. To get lost in the feeling of his steps in time with yours, of your hands in his hair and of his on your waist.

To drown in the warmth of your skin, and the comfort of your proximity. It mends some broken parts of him, but he doubts it fixes anything permanently. He doesn’t think his soul can be permanently fixed, not after losing you like that.

You dance under the stars, with the stars. You dance with the memories of the two of you, reminiscing the days when you were one against the world. When distance wasn’t even a possibility in your relationship, when Jungkook had thought he’d marry you someday.

He bought a ring, back then. Not that you know of. But back then he’d planned to ask you to marry him. But that was before the job offer in Europe, and he wanted to be done with that before he was to propose to you. He’d been foolish, though he reckons maybe that means he chose his dream over you a long time before you actually decided to quit the relationship.

“Jungkook,” you breathe after a small eternity.

He leans in, presses his lips on yours in a featherlight kiss that leaves his soul reaching for yours. He thinks they’ve found each other – you push him towards the room, and you walk in with your lips still connected. Jungkook struggles to get the door shut as you kiss, but somehow he doesn’t want to stop.

Doesn’t think he can.

And then you’re heading to the bed, discarding items of clothing on the way until it’s just your skin against his. He hovers over you, teeth grazing at your tongue as it darts in his mouth, which earns him a moan from you.

It spurs him into action, and he rubs his dick against your entrance, not surprised at all that he already finds you wet.

“Do you want to wear a condom?” you ask before he’s had time to push in.

He meets your gaze. “Should we?”

His question carries a deeper meaning, but he’s not sure you understood. Not sure he wants to know anyway, so when you say, “We don’t have to”, he lets it slide.

Instead, he straightens to a kneeling position between your legs, one hand wrapping around the base of his cock so that he can run it along your folds, collecting your juice. You let out a familiar breathy sound, and it breaks into a moan as he pushes his tip in.

He looks towards your face, only to find you staring at the place where your bodies are connected. He wishes you could see it from his point of view, wishes you could see your walls engulfing his dick until they’ve swallowed him whole. But that’s only for him to see, and so he pulls out, needing to see your juice glistening on him.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs.

You nod, meeting his gaze then. “Always for you.”

At that he pushes all the way in, soul vibrating at the feeling of your tight walls around him. You moan, and when he leans down you wrap your arms around his neck to hold him close. And he fucks you slowly, kisses you languidly, each one of his thrusts making him hate you less.

Making love settle back into him. He’s wary of it, but he can’t help it. It’s too natural for him – like the moon in the night sky, shining from the memory of the sun, he’ll always love you. Only a cataclysm could stop it, and it seems you breaking up with him wasn’t enough.

This is going to hurt, isn’t it?

He fucks you slowly. Takes his time with you, wanting to remember the drag of your pussy on him. Committing the feeling of your walls clenching around him to memory, taking a mental picture of your beautiful body under him. He wonders if it tastes like farewell for you too – he receives the answer that it doesn’t when he finally comes, and you hold him even closer to you.

“Can we try again?”

And as you’ll always have too much power over him, Jungkook doesn’t find it in himself to say no.

“We can,” he murmurs against the skin of your neck.

“Kook,” you breathe out, and it sounds choked. He knows why when he feels a tear on the side of his face. “I’m so sorry.”

And then he realizes why he hasn’t been able to hate you all night – your body against him is a drug, and it’s inhibited his emotions. And like every good addict, he only wants more. Another hit, which you’re offering to him on a silver platter.

“We can try again,” he replies, an echo of your previous words.

You can break my heart again.

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So? Do we think they'll make it? Man I'm so emotional over these two. Let me know what you think! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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bam kissed jungkook on the cheek 🥺 for @taeyungie ♡ (cr. @kimtaegis )

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he's so cool🥺

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HE'S INSANE

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230923 - vogue korea on instagram and twitter (4)

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