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jessikahathaway

2 years ago

YAAASSSS ELLA!

Be prepared yall, Ella’s back baby 👀

When the End Comes | jjk (teaser)

☆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: I will be posting individual warnings for each chapter, so watch out for that! In this teaser: reference to Jungkook's accident (car wreck), angst (a recurring warning in this fic let me tell you)

☆word count: 65.8k

☆series masterpost (it's not ready yet but give me like a day and it'll be out lmao)

☆a/n: Gosh this whole piece makes me so so so emotional. I think it's by far the most angsty thing I've ever written, and I hope you all will enjoy it!! I'm sorry for the tears and emotional toll tho :') Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, I'm so thankful for you <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 by Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

“Kook…”

He says your name, a loving plea that could have changed the ending, if the months hadn’t passed.

“We need to talk,” you breathe against his neck.

You think you hear his heart breaking. Like a car wreck: it’s so loud you don’t think you’ll make it out of the crash. Only, he did get out of it once – you can only hope he’ll get out again.

He runs his hand on your back, loses it in your hair. He’s gentle, infinitely so, tracing your body to remember you by when you’re gone. At least that’s what you think it is.

“Yeah?” he lets out with a small, quivering voice.

A tear spills from your eye, falling onto the soft skin of his neck.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

He holds you tighter, turning his face so that he can press a kiss to the side of your head. It’s a desperate move – it holds the weight of the universe.

“I…”

He never finishes the sentence. His words are lost to him, and you steel yourself for the glimpse you’ll give him. And when you do, you see his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I can’t do the distance anymore,” you tell him.

He nods once. “I’m staying until November.”

He blurs behind your tears, and they roll down your cheeks freely. You don’t try to dry them, and neither does he.

“But then you’ll go again.”

He doesn’t need to say anything to that, because you both know it to be the truth. His reply is physical: his arms let go of you, falling on the bed on each side of him.

You move to sit next to him, instinctively grabbing a blanket to hide yourself. Jungkook shuts his eyes before pressing the heel of his palms against his eyelids. As if that’ll stop him from crying, from shattering into thousands of little shards that will go by the wind.

The end has come. It’s upon you, right this instant in time. You think you’ll forever hate this moment – will you ever recover?

☆☆☆☆☆

Chapter one will be out Friday September 8, 2023!

Tags :

when the end comes moots my bb ella

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jessikahathaway

2 years ago

THIS FIC YALL. Pls support my bb Ella she worked so hard on this story and it is incredible. You won’t be disappointed!

When the End Comes | ch 1 (jjk)

☆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: angst, like. Just angst. Curse words, Jungkook's car, mentions of Jungkook's accident, mention of reader getting kicked out in TFS, explicit content: breast/nipple play, hickey, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, hair pulling, jerking off, squirting, praise, pain kink (Jungkook), balls squeezing (lmao), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

☆word count: 9.4k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: First chapter is here and it's time to CRY (I apologize in advance for the therapy bills) :') Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆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

☆☆☆☆☆

Wednesday, April 19th

The setting sun turns the living room into liquid gold, bathing you in golden warmth that traces your features delicately from where you sit on the couch. Spring is upon you – outside, you can hear birds singing, and the gentle wind of spring carries the smell of melted snow, of wet soil and of early leaves.

You sigh. Your phone has been dead silent all day, as it’s been for weeks now, and the loneliness of it keeps the winter cold close. Always.

Jungkook said he would call. He often says it, often promises he wants to go to sleep with your voice at his ear, since he can’t sleep with you in his arms. Years ago, when he first started his job in Europe, he did, calling you every night when you got home from work and he went to sleep in a European city too far from you.

He usually leaves for a few months at a time. Never more than three, and he usually stays for a month after that before leaving again. He’s been photographing for museums all over Europe, and his latest job at the Louvres in Paris seems to have been keeping him more occupied than the others.

You’d think it’d make sense – the Louvres is the Louvres. But you miss Jungkook. Miss the early years of your relationship, when you spent almost every day together. When he moved in with you in your first apartment, the one he had found for you while you weren’t even dating yet.

A deep ache has settled inside of you this time around. Because, even if he says he’ll try, even if he promised it wouldn’t be like the last time he was away, this time is worse. Far worse. You’ve only spoken to him on the phone once since he left half a month ago, and he texts you sparingly throughout the week.

You never thought there would come a day when your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t be what it was at the beginning. Hell, the honeymoon phase lasted for almost three years, and then you had another year before he started working overseas. The first months he had spent away had rekindled the flame, passion and desire burning through you the moment you laid your eyes on him again the day he had come back.

But distance is difficult. Distance can tame even the wildest flame, and you’re starting to believe it has tamed the flame between you and Jungkook. You hate it – every night for a week you’ve fallen asleep with a heart so heavy it felt as if you weren’t going to wake up. And every day you’ve woken up feeling even worse, and you don’t know what’s going to help anymore.

You turn your head, catching sight of the frames on the shelves by the window. They too bathe in setting sunlight, shining like the glass is made of gold. From where you’re sitting, you can’t really see the pictures, but you know them by heart.

There are the pictures from his first photo exhibit, when you were still in college. Pictures of you, of him falling in love with you and you falling in love with him. Then there are pictures of that first Christmas, and of the first time you celebrated your birthday with him. Pictures of you, of him holding you, and of his hand in yours. Pictures from when Jiho gave birth to her first child Lisa, and then a picture with you two on a camping trip with Lisa and her younger brother Charles. That trip happened two summers ago, replacing your usual annual visit to a cabin in the woods, the year after the dance crew retired. Because as much as you and your friends loved that cabin in the woods, loved the dance crew, you eventually grew out of it.

There are pictures from Heather and Bridget’s wedding last fall, pictures of your story with Jungkook as it unfolded through the years.

No new pictures have been added since that last picture in the fall, because nothing worth taking pictures of happened since then. Jungkook has been gone most of the time, and when he’s here he’s too tired to do anything, preferring staying in and cuddling on the couch as you watch hours of Netflix without ever speaking.

You see the doom. It’s been coming for you, tightening around you like a scourge. Nothing you’ve been trying to do has helped – not even the nice lingerie pictures you sent him two nights ago. Not even the letter you wrote for him, though he did have flowers delivered to you at the firm.

Your coworker Harrison made fun of you for the flowers, teasing you like he’s taken to teasing you whenever something related to Jungkook happens. Which, as much as you hate admitting, is not much anymore.

Sometimes, when he’s away, you think he’s a ghost in your life. You wish you could turn back time and go back to the night where it all started between you. The July night of years ago, or perhaps the night of the hotel roof in Chicago. You struggle to pinpoint where you’d go back, but you do believe that anything would be better than the now.

You blink away the blurriness in your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady the aching beats of your heart. You glance at your phone – your empty notification screen stares back at you, a reminder that for all he says, he’s stopped trying this time around.

You figure you could call him. Could make the effort, but you’re tired. Tired of trying when it seems like it doesn’t work anymore. And so your aching heart keeps beating in your chest, and you put your phone away to cook dinner when it’s become clear that he won’t call.

And when you go to bed, after having taken the dog out one last time, your phone still lies empty, the picture of you and him that you have as a background taunting you, haunting you until troubled sleep finds you in its hold.

Friday, May 5th

Jungkook hates himself. Hates how every time he says he’ll call you, he ends up falling asleep. He doesn’t know why; it’s like his heart fights against his body. But tonight, he’s determined to call. He’s been meaning to show you the lights of the Eiffel tower, when the clock strikes midnight, and he promised he will tonight.

You haven’t replied to his text. He’s been feeling you slipping through his fingers for a few weeks. You barely reply when he talks to you anymore, sending one-worded answers most of the time. Maybe that is the reason why he’s been struggling to call – there’s an impending doom lingering around your relationship, and he wants to avoid it for as long as he can.

He’s been replaying your fight earlier last week on repeat since it happened. You, screaming that he said he was going to change, was going to try to call more and make more effort before he went to Paris. Him, telling you that you should be understanding, that he’s doing his best and that most nights he goes to bed before you’ve even finished work. You’d told him sometimes you wished you could hate him, as it’d be easier than loving him from afar. The words struck harder than a physical blow could have, and since then the doom has been clearer in the distance, as if it’s getting closer.

Just thinking about it hurts too much. He can’t wait for his contract with the Louvres to be done. Can’t wait to be home, and to tell you in person just how much he loves you.

He thinks his love has just been growing stronger. Through all the years, it’s just been growing inside of him, making him into a better person with every beat of his heart. The thought brings a smile to his lips, strangely enough, even though there’s still pain in his heart.

He still remembers when you first got Bam. He thinks that day is the one that made his love grow the most, until he thought his heart was going to burst in his chest. It fortunately never did, and he looks at his phone’s background quickly, needing to see you.

There you are, in all your glory. Hair a mess as you hold a tiny puppy in your arm, with your eyes sparkling like they’re holding the light of the universe. Of his universe, and it hasn’t changed. Still, today he knows if he were to see you, you still would hold the light of his universe.

After all, it started a July night seven years ago, and it’s never going to go away.

Thirteen days until he’s going to be home. And he decided to take a longer break this time around – he doesn’t have another contract yet. He’s been approached by the Victoria and Albert museum in London, but he’s told them that he likely won’t be able to go until late October.

They said they’ll be happy to have him whenever his schedule allows.

He’s yet to tell you – it’s a surprise, and he reckons your relationship terribly needs it. And he’s excited, as it means months that he’ll get to spend with you.

He’s going to take some small photography jobs back home until then, and spend the rest of his time with you, whenever you’re not at the firm. He reckons he can always meet you there for lunch – he used to do that when you first got the job at the firm where your father used to work.

Jungkook sighs, and he glances at the time on his phone. It’s almost time to call, and he’s proud he’s been able to stay up, sitting on the balcony of his Airbnb, watching the Eiffel tower in the distance.

The Louvres is paying for the Airbnb, and they really chose one of the best in the city. The view of the tower is beautiful, night and day, the architecture of it satisfying in ways he can barely comprehend. He took pictures of it through the different weathers, and he’s excited to show you when he’ll be back.

Five minutes before the clock strikes midnight, Jungkook lets out a long yawn as he goes to your profile, hitting the Facetime button. He’s told you he would call, up to the very minute, and he doesn’t want to disappoint this time around.

He watches his face on the screen as it rings. It rings and rings, and yet you don’t pick up. Something unsettling grows in his gut, and he pulls at his lip piercing in worry as he calls again when the call claims it failed to connect.

He tries four times more, until the Eiffel tower is sparkling in the distance, and your form still has yet to appear. So he looks up, watches the show and then heads to bed, each of his step feeling heavier than the last.

The next morning, he wakes up to some texts of yours.

[04:21 am] bby <3: sorry, i was out for dinner with friends from work [04:22 am] bby <3: I assume u’re asleep now? [04:41 am] bby <3: good night

For some reason, he can’t bring himself to reply.

Thursday, May 18th

It’s been raining all week. The world, crying as if it’s coming to an end. It’s unsettling, and you miss the sunrays. Miss the warmth that they carry, because now the world seems void of any.

You’re not looking forward to going home. It’s the first time that the thought of seeing Jungkook is scaring you – you have a feeling the distance between you is more than just physical, and you’re afraid to see him.

Afraid to be faced with the fact that everything changed irreparably.

You’ve slept in his clothes every night of May. It hasn’t made you feel closer to him, has only made you feel like he’s drifting further away, like a piece of wood lost at sea, pulled away by the current. And as much as you long for his return, you fear he’s crossed a threshold now.

You fear you’re not into it anymore.

The thought has made you cry countless times. You never thought you’d get to a moment in life when splitting with Jungkook seemed to be an option. You thought you were made of forever, of an eternity built just for you. You thought he’d always be enough for you, and that you’d always be enough for him too. But when Taehyung and Jo got engaged and said that they’d marry the first weekend of September, you realized that you want that for yourself too.

You want to start growing with your partner, you want them to be around. And Jungkook just isn’t.

You’ve spoken to Jiho about it. A haunting conversation, that you’ve been replaying in your mind constantly since it happened a week and a half ago.

She came over, only to find you cradling the picture of the July night sky, the one Jungkook had given you after his exposition. She sat next to you, tired eyes surveying your profile. When you started crying, she pulled you in a hug, and held you against her chest as you sobbed.

When you calmed down, she ran a soothing hand on your back. She waited for you to patiently find your words, and when you had, they spilled from your mouth, with no dam to stop them anymore.

“I think I’m going to break up with him,” you told her. It had you chasing more tears away, hating the weakness of your heart as it broke in your chest. “I can’t do the distance anymore. I want something like you and Hobi have, like Jo and Taehyung have. I want someone to wake up to every day and… I don’t… I don’t think loving him is enough anymore.”

She offered you a sad smile, her features sober as she nodded once. “Will you regret it?”

A lone tear spilled on your cheek, holding all the answers she needed. You let it roll down your cheek, let it fall in your lap. Jiho nodded once again, understanding, and added, “I’ll be there for you.”

Your decision was made that day. You don’t think you’ll change your mind, but you’re afraid to see him. Afraid to be faced with the reality of it.

The worst part is, you think you already started getting adjusted to living without him. Hell, the distance has been a good training, so you think you’ll be okay after. It’s just the during that scares you, because you know that when he breaks, you break too.

You know how much you broke for him once. You know you’ll break again, know the first days are going to be hell, but you know that in the long term, it’s the right decision.

At least you hope so.

Jungkook texted you that he got home in the middle of the afternoon, and that he was going to take a nap. He said he couldn’t wait to see you, and you’ve had to swallow countless lumps in your throat whenever you’ve thought of the words.

You take a deep steadying breath as your shift ends, leaving you with no choice but to head home. Harrison notices your fallen features, and he offers you a kind smile.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises.

You want to tell him he’s a liar, but all you do is offer him a tight-lipped smile in return.

*****

The apartment in soundless when you finally reach home. Outside, the wind plays in the leaves, splashing water against the windows. It makes for a relaxing sound, yet it does nothing to relax you.

You take off your shoes by the door and drop your purse on the small table just a few steps in as Bam comes to greet you. You pet the dog mindlessly, scanning your surroundings to see if Jungkook is coming too, but it seems he fell asleep. You stop by the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water as you survey the world outside the window, hoping it holds any kind of solace. It doesn’t – the world is crying, and you think by the end of the night there’s a high chance you will be crying too.

You sigh, try to swallow around the lump in your throat but it doesn’t work. You choke on a sip of water, and startle when Jungkook asks if you’re okay.

You didn’t hear him sneaking up on you.

You turn around, the sense of impending doom growing tenfold at the thought that he’s going to be right there, in the flesh, when you set your eyes on him. And he is – a sleepy Jungkook is standing in the door of the kitchen, leaning against the frame as he offers you a small, tired smile.

You’re not sure what to do at first, and when he opens up his arms for you you rush towards him, leaving the glass of water on the counter.

His embrace is familiar, warm. If he wasn’t gone for so long, you think it’d be enough to keep you here, forever. You both remain silent, and your heart beats achingly in your chest as you try to hold him closer, as if you can be one.

As if that’ll make him stay.

“Hey,” he says, voice choked with emotion.

You only hold him tighter, and tears burn behind your closed eyelids as you hide your face in his neck. He smells familiar, like home. He smells like the clothes you’ve been wearing in an attempt to gather the courage to break up with him.

You hate yourself deeply, then. You think about the years, and aren’t they enough? Isn’t the love enough?

He grabs your shoulders, delicately, to push you away. And then his hands move to your cheeks, and he’s tilting your head back to press his soft, pink lips against yours. It’s barely just a peck, and it hurts so much you think you’ll die.

“How was work?” he asks when he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours.

You breathe in slowly, and then out, your breath mingling with his in the space between you. “Long,” you answer, because it’s the truth.

“I’ll cook you dinner,” he says.

If he notices you holding your breath as your heart keeps on breaking, he doesn’t say. Instead, he pulls away, leaves you standing by the door as he moves in the room proper. You’re not sure you’ll survive a dinner with him, not when the inevitability of what you’re going to do is looming over you, like a sword of Damocles ready to cut the link between you and him.

“Okay,” you breathe out.

You sit at the table as he fishes ingredients out of the fridge – stuff you clearly didn’t buy. Which means he went grocery shopping, and you just ache so fiercely the air turns to poison in your lungs.

“Do you want to chop the vegetables?” he asks.

You gulp before nodding curtly. “Sure.”

You move closer to him as he puts said vegetables on the counter, and you grab a knife as he hands you a cutting board. It’s familiar, domestic, and it helps lessen the pain somehow. To have this moment, with him, even though your decision is made.

“You’re silent,” Jungkook comments as you finish dicing an onion.

You purse your lips, head hanging low as you reply, “I’m tired, sorry.”

He turns on the stove, placing a pan on top of it. As he’s putting oil in it, he glances at you. You barely notice from the corner of your eyes, but you still can tell he’s trying to figure how to reach you, in the dark place where your mind has gone.

“Something happened?”

No. Nothing happened. Nothing happened when it should have. Was distance really enough to kill your relationship with him?

Needing the conversation to move away from the current subject, you reply, “Not really.” Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you add, “How was Paris?”

“It sucked,” Jungkook is quick to answer. “It was a lot of work and I barely had time to explore the city.”

“Mmh,” you hum, nodding your head.

You freeze as he moves closer, taking the knife out of your hands. He forces you to turn towards him, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I took some pictures of the Eiffel tower for you,” he admits. “It was pretty at night. Made me think of you.”

You shut your eyes tight, and for once you win against the tears that were threatening to spill. “You did?” you let out when your eyelids finally flutter open again. “You can show me over dinner.”

“I’d rather just spend time with you for now,” he says, softly, and you hate that his big, doe eyes feel like heaven. “I… I missed you.”

You think he knows. You both know what’s coming. But you want this last moment with him, so you say, “I missed you too. Way too much.”

“You’ve been sleeping in my clothes,” he teases, but it’s lacking the usual lilt to his voice that makes you roll your eyes playfully.

“Yeah.”

He pulls at his piercing, and you focus on that because his eyes are going to read every little treacherous thought in your head, and you don’t think you’d survive that.

He doesn’t say anything else before he busies himself with putting the onion you diced in the pan. You lean on the counter to watch him cook, handing him the ingredients that you know he’ll need.

You’ve cooked together a thousand times before, and never you would have thought that there’d be a last time. You clench your jaw against the pain, and though you don’t feel hungry, you sit at the kitchen table with him to eat.

You manage to get some food down. Jungkook is an amazing cook, and you’ve always loved his food. It’s something you know you’re likely to miss, when he won’t be around anymore.

Fuck.

After dinner, you do the dishes while Jungkook brings Bam outside, as he usually does when he’s here. He’s back before you’re done, and you focus on finishing to clean the dishes, trying to ignore him.

He’s been silent through the meal, and you’ve avoided the glances he’s sent your way. But when he grabs your wrist, gently, you meet his gaze.

His eyes shine. It takes you a few seconds to register that it’s because tears are welling up in his innocent gaze, and you wish you’d die right on the spot.

“Why is it awkward?” he asks.

You purse your lips and then bite the tip of your tongue, as if it’ll help. “Can we go to bed early?”

You don’t know why you asked that question. You convinced yourself to break up right away, but then again you think you need a last time.

You need a goodbye.

He nods, blinking the tears away. His hand moves until it’s wrapped around yours, and he pulls you to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, but before he’s taken his shirt off you step in front of him, fist closing around a handful of fabric so you can pull him close.

There’s urgency in the kiss, along with yearning. It’s quick, it’s heated and desperate. You wonder if he can taste the goodbye on your tongue – does it taste bitter for him too?

Though he seemed startled from the sudden kiss, he’s quick to kiss you back, to grab your waist and pull you closer, as if that’ll make you stay. And while you kiss your mind runs with the memories – the first time you’d kissed, in that hot tub. The kiss on the hotel roof, the kiss after he’d helped you move in your first apartment.

More than that, it’s a memory from four years ago that resurfaces the most. It takes the centerpiece of the stage of your mind, and you find yourself back in your old apartment, the first one you’d ever had. The day wasn’t a special one – just a random Sunday, one Jungkook convinced you to spend in bed. He’d held you all morning, littering small kisses on the top of your head. At some point, you’d made love, slowly, lazily, as if you had all the time in the world. Halfway through it, Jungkook had stopped, resting his forehead on yours. Against your lips, he’d whispered, “Will you still love me when I’m old and grey and grumpy?”

Back then you’d laughed, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. After, you’d replied, “You know I’ll never stop loving you.”

And as you’re kissing him right now, you hope he knows that you’ll never stop loving him.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, seeking to deepen the kiss, and you let him in. Taste the dinner in his mouth, like he’s sure to taste it in yours too. It eases the bitterness somehow, and when his large hands move to your ass, you let out a breathy sound.

He swallows it as if it’s the ambrosia of the gods, and then he pushes you back towards the counter next to the sink. The shower runs in the background as he pulls you on the counter, large hands guiding you. You instinctively spread your thighs to allow him to step closer, and then you wrap your legs around him. His hands find your cheeks again, and he kisses you fervently, hungrily, yet his touch remains gentle on your cheeks, thumbs swiping back and forth.

When oxygen becomes needed, both for you and him, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You think we can wait after the shower?” he teases, and this time it has a little bit of the usual bite.

It only hurts, because now you’re not so sure he’s aware of what’s to come. He probably only thought that it was awkward because of the distance – physical. Not because the end is coming. So you let him believe it, agree to take a shower.

You let him wash your hair, a thing he’s taken to doing six years ago whenever you take a shower together. Something about him liking the scent of your shampoo. After that, you let him wash your back, but you can’t bring yourself to do it for him. To your relief, he admits he took a shower before he napped, to wash away the airplane vibes off him. So it mostly goes unnoticed, and then you’re getting out of the shower. You barely have time to dry yourself before he’s pulling you to your room, to your shared bed.

To the bed where you’ve cried yourself to sleep every night since you’ve made your decision.

He sits you on the bed, thumbs swiping on your cheeks gently when he bends down to peck your lips once.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

You watch him leave, thinking you should find it funny that he’s butt-naked, as you are. Yet you don’t laugh, just put a hand over your aching heart as you wait for him to come back. It hurts even more when he comes back with your heating pad, a tentative smile on his lips.

“I thought this might help,” he says as he walks over to you, offering it to you.

You look at it, not knowing what to do. “Why?”

“Aren’t you…” he trails off, motioning towards you. “I don’t know, you’ve been weird. Thought you might be on your period, or having cramps?”

He’s too sweet. Too caring. Why can’t he be like this when he’s away too?

“Oh,” you let out. “I’m not.”

He looks puzzled, and his eyes drop to the heating pad in his hands. “Oh. Do you…” He gestures with the heating pad, but you shake your head no. He looks disappointed, and he puts it on the dresser before coming to sit next to you.

There’s a moment of silence, and you glance at the TV on the wall. The black screen reflects the grey light from the rainy world outside, and you turn to look out the window next. The rain is still relentless, and the trees outside look greener, darker, though that might be because the sun set behind the clouds, and night is slowly taking over the world.

Being with Jungkook has never been awkward before, and you hate that it is right now. You’d wish for one last moment, for a memory to treasure, but now you think you might have just been selfish.

He glances at you, pulling at his piercing. “Did something happen with your mother?”

He’s trying. So hard. Doesn’t he feel the distance between you and him?

“No,” you reply.

As a matter of fact, you only talk to your mother three times a year now. Without fault, she calls on Christmas and your birthday, and five years ago you’ve started calling on hers too. Other than that, you barely even text.

“Then…” he trails off before shrugging. “Whatever. Do you want to sleep or should we watch something?”

“Can we watch a studio Ghibli movie?”

Jungkook glances at the Totoro plushie, nestled in the pillows at the head of the bed right next to Appa. “My neighbor Totoro?” You nod once. He offers you a smile, nodding his head too. “Sure. As long as I get to hold you.”

You worry at your lip, though you still say, “Yes.”

A minute later you’re nestled in his embrace, and he’s starting the movie on the TV. You barely can focus though, mind zeroing in on his naked skin against yours. You want to ask him to stop with his overseas job, to come home permanently, to build a future with you here, without distance between you and him. You want to tell him you love him so much it hurts, want to tell him the months away from him are killing you.

All you do is watch the movie as if in a daze, and halfway through it, you tilt your head to look up at him. He sees you looking, and his tongue darts to his piercing as he glances down.

Your eyes go to his lips, and you reach to steal a kiss on them. This time, it’s incredibly slow, painfully so, and his arm tightens around you as his breath gets caught up in his throat.

You rest a hand on his cheek, before sliding it to the nape of his neck to keep him as close as you possibly can. He turns his head to deepen the kiss, and you turn the other way as you push your tongue in his mouth. You gently tug at the hair on the back of his neck, appreciating its silky softness.

Committing it to memory. Remembering when it was so long he could tie it back in a small ponytail, remembering when he cut it shorter for the first time. You’d teased him saying that he was a stranger, and you reckon you’d take that stranger back again.

You’d take the sweet innocence of the third year of your relationship again over what it now is.

Once, you thought you’d always want to see the end. To be able to glance back on the past, to swim in the nostalgia of the memories that it holds. Today, as the end comes, you realize you were wrong.

There’s no beauty in the ending.

Jungkook moves until he’s hovering over you, between your legs. You wrap them around his dainty waist, and you pull him inevitably closer as your hands run in his hair, while his hold him up on each side of your face. It takes him a few seconds, but soon he leans on his elbow, and one of his hands lands on the top of your head while the other moves to cup your breast.

He squeezes gently, fingers expertly pinching your nipple the way he knows that you like it. You moan softly, desperately, and he does it harder as his tongue meets yours.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” he says as he pulls away, and then he’s littering hot kisses on your jaw, and on your neck. He sucks a hickey on the spot that connects your shoulder to your neck, and then laps at it to ease the sting. He’s still pinching your nipple, and though it hurts you just want more.

He doesn’t disappoint. His kisses move lower, until he’s sucking on your other breast, tongue circling your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He flicks it once, make sure it’s perched nicely on your chest before he moves to the other one, repeating the action.

Your core heats up with need, but even this demonstration of the passion between you and him doesn’t do anything against the ache of your heart. The pain wins, and you shut your eyes tightly in an attempt to focus on the sensations. To focus on him as he moves lower, slowly, pressing wet kisses on your stomach, down to your pelvis, and then on the inside of your thigh as he pushes your leg on his shoulder.

“I want you,” he murmurs between your legs, as if he’s speaking the words directly to your pussy.

“I want you too.”

That much isn’t a lie. You do want him, all of him, even though you’re aware it’s going to be the last time. So you try to disconnect mind and body, and the moment he sucks on your clit you think you succeed.

You lose your hand in the strands of his hair, tugging as his tongue starts a hellish rhythm on your clit, never once faltering as you squirm under the ministrations. When your juice is coating his chin – which you reckon doesn’t take long – he moves lower, dipping his tongue inside of you.

“So sweet,” he praises once he pulls away, just enough for you to feel his lips moving as he speaks.

“Kook…”

The nickname barely crosses the threshold of your lips, yet the grip he has on your waist, where his hands have found a home, tightens. The only indication that somewhere behind his lustful gaze, Jungkook is aching too.

“Baby…” he says back, and then he returns to press figure-eight on your clit, though this time he pushes a finger inside of you.

It curls to hit the right spot inside of you, and he slowly rubs against it, before he decides better and starts to finger you, slowly. Digit moving in and out, keeping that right arch to make you see stars in no time.

When he adds a second finger, you tug on his hair, hard. Mostly by reflex, but when he meets your gaze as you look down at him, you pull harder. His fingers remain deep inside of you as he meets your lips for a heated kiss that tastes like you, and your hand blindly aims for his dick.

He’s rock hard, as he always is when you fuck for the first time after he’s been away. You sigh in satisfaction, thumb collecting precum on his tip that you spread on his dick. Instinctively, he bucks his hips as you start jerking him off, with the tight grip you know he likes, and you make sure to flick your wrist when you go back up.

He grunts against your lips, and his fingers start to move inside of you again. You don’t know when they stopped, but you know that he’s grown impatient now, and he’s unforgiving. When he pushes his thumb against your clit so that he can rub it at the same time, you moan unashamedly loud, another sound that he swallows like a man starved while his lips move against yours.

You time your ministration on his dick to those of his fingers on you, and soon enough a knot forms at the pit of your stomach. It grows impossibly tight impossibly quickly, and when Jungkook moans in your mouth you lose it, the knot uncoiling as your orgasm finds you.

He fucks you with his fingers through the high, through every wave of your orgasm, your legs shaking as he keeps going until you squirt.

“Good girl,” he praises as you cry out his name, your grip on his dick growing tighter. It has to hurt, but obviously Jungkook likes pain, so he only bucks his hips, seeking for friction.

It brings you back to the present, to this bed, and you return to jerking him off as his fingers leave you empty. He brings them to your mouth, makes you lick them clean until he’s satisfied and pulls them away. He kisses you, languidly, and your tongue dance with his as he grunts from a particularly skilled flick of your wrist.

“I want to suck you,” you say in between kisses, and he doesn’t let you do it for a time.

He’s too focused on your mouth, and you reckon you want him to keep going at it. To trap you in this moment with him, so that it may never end.

So that you may never have to break up with him.

“Can I fuck you first?” he asks, bucking his hips once more. “I want to feel your tight pussy swallowing my cock.”

“I want to suck you,” you insist as he’s sucking a new hickey on your neck.

He pulls away, meets your gaze with a lazy smile on his lips. “Well then of course.”

In another world his comment would have made you laugh, but the only thing it does is make you push him until he’s lying on his back and you’re kneeling next to him.

You look down at his dick. It’s just as pretty as you’ve always thought it was, with the brownish base to the tip that’s currently flushed red with arousal. Precum makes it glisten in the dim light from the world outside, and you let a blob of spit fall on it to add some lubrication to your jerking off.

When you feel ready, you bend down to lick a stripe along his dick, from base to top, following the thick vein. He groans, and he puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail so he can watch as you swirl your tongue around his tip.

The taste of his salty precum fills your mouth, and you hum in contentment. You wrap your lips around his tip, sucking hard once before teasing his frenulum with your tongue. Your free hand moves between his legs, and you grab his balls, massaging them gently.

They’re already tight, and you know he’ll come if you suck him for too long. You still can’t resist, and you take him as far as you can, swallowing around him so he can feel your throat constricting on him. It makes him moan out your name, which in turns makes you moan against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he lets out.

You move up until almost just his tip is in your mouth, before going all the way in once more. And then you start bobbing you head up and down in a quicker fashion as you drool on your chin, your spit coating his dick.

You squeeze his balls once, not daring to do it for longer than a few seconds. You don’t want him to come, so you let go soon after, hand moving to his thigh. You find the hard knot of his scar, and you lightly trace it with your fingers, almost instinctively.

Another part of him that you want to commit to memory. His scars – they made him into the person that was right for you. You hate that distance undid it, wish you could turn back time but alas it’s impossible.

So you focus on his dick, moving your hand away from the scars. He doesn’t let you suck him for a lot longer. Soon, he pulls you away by the hair, bringing you to his mouth instead. You kiss him as you climb on top of him, and right as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, you grab his dick to align it with your entrance.

Even though he fingered you before, he still stretches you as you sink on him, and you let out a broken moan as you dig your nails in his shoulder, where your other hand has been holding you up since you climbed on him.

You sink down until he’s fully imbedded inside of you, and then you rest your hands flatly on his chest, feeling the muscles of his pecs under your palms. You meet his gaze, hating how he’s looking at you carefully. For a moment, you both don’t move, taking the other in, and you’re struck with the realization that maybe he does know. Because his eyes are infinitely sad, infinitely pained, but when he blinks you think you might have imagined it.

You’re going crazy. You used to be able to read him like the back of your hand, but it seems the pain in your heart is keeping you from doing so, from picking up the book where you left off. Perhaps because you’ve gone blind, or maybe you forgot how to read altogether.

Jungkook feels like a stranger.

“Baby,” he lets out.

“Jungkook…”

He wets his lips, and then brings you closer. Forces you to bend down until he’s wrapped his arms around your waist. He starts moving, incredibly slow, and says, “I just want you close.”

It hurts too bad, and you hide your face in his neck. He tightens his grip around you, and after that all that can be heard in the room is your heavy breathing, mingling with the sound of the TV.

He feels healing, as much as he’s breaking you. Or you’re breaking yourself, you don’t know anymore. You wish to stop time, to interrupt the chronology of it, until all that’s left is this moment in time.

You know you can’t.

Jungkook doesn’t stop moving for a long time, as you let out breathy sounds against his neck. He’s not grunting anymore – you don’t think you or he are enjoying this, right now.

“I really want to suck your dick,” you murmur against his neck, lips tickling him.

“You’re not into this.”

Of course he’d sense it. You wrap your arms around his neck as he slips out of you, and you refuse to move for a little eternity.

“I’m okay,” you lie.

“Stop saying that you are,” Jungkook answers, and his voice has taken a cold tone. Maybe because he’s freezing – you don’t think he’d purposefully speak to you like that. “I know you aren’t.”

“Kook…”

He says your name, a loving plea that could have changed the ending, if the months hadn’t passed.

“We need to talk,” you breathe against his neck.

He runs his hand on your back, loses it in your hair. He’s gentle, infinitely so, tracing your body to remember you by when you’re gone. At least that’s what you think it is.

“Yeah?” he lets out with a small, quivering voice.

A tear spills from your eye, falling onto the soft skin of his neck.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

He holds you tighter, turning his face so that he can press a kiss to the side of your head. It’s a desperate move – it holds the weight of the universe.

“I…”

He never finishes the sentence. His words are lost to him, and you steel yourself for the glimpse you’ll give him. And when you do, you see his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I can’t do the distance anymore,” you tell him.

He nods once. “I’m staying until November.”

He blurs behind your tears, and they roll down your cheeks freely. You don’t try to dry them, and neither does he.

“But then you’ll go again.”

He doesn’t need to say anything to that, because you both know it to be the truth. His reply is physical: his arms let go of you, falling on the bed on each side of him.

The end has come. It’s upon you, it’s right this instant in time. You think you’ll forever hate this moment – will you ever recover?

“It’s just better for both of us,” you say, your voice breaking into a sob on the last words. You wish you could be stronger, but you break too hard for him. “It’s been so hard and… we both don’t try anymore.”

“I’m staying until November,” he repeats. He sounds choked, and when he pushes himself up, allowing you a glimpse of his face again, you see that he too is crying. “Please.”

“Kook…”

“No but…” he stops, laughs a laugh that turns into a sob. “I tried.”

“You didn’t.”

Maybe he did. Maybe to him he did, but it wasn’t what you needed.

“You don’t get to tell me I didn’t,” he says and he scoffs, pain laced with his next words. “When I tried, you were the one that was unavailable.”

Because you were already done then, you realize. It’s a startling realization, and you wish it wasn’t real. But it is, as real as the rain lashing at the window, as the agony in Jungkook’s gaze.

His doe eyes are pained, tormented, and you wish you could ease it. Comfort him, but you’re the source of the torture now.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to say.

He looks at you for a time, holds your crying eyes, and then he loses it, hiding his face in his hands as sobs rock through him. You’re shaking like a leaf where you’re sitting, and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“We can make it work,” he tries.

You’re shaking your head no, sobs racking through you too, when he glances at you. “We can’t. We tried, Kook. We tried and it didn’t work.”

“It’s the distance,” he says. He dries his cheeks, sniffles hard. “What if I drop the job?”

“It’s your dream,” you remind him. “Don’t.”

“I don’t give a shit about this dream if it means losing you,” he insists.

Your expression is apologetic, and suddenly your eyes clear up. Too much – the clarity in your mind feels dizzying.

“It’s too late.”

The words fall like a meteorite – you think they hit harder than the one that killed the dinosaurs, millions of years ago. They hit him so hard you think they disperse the pieces of his heart to the four corners of the Earth.

You want to be selfish, you want to keep a piece of him for yourself, to remember him by, but you let him go. You have to, if you want to make it out alive.

“Come on,” he pleads. “We’ve been through so much…”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I know.”

There’s finality in your voice, and he hears it just as well as you do. You think he’ll fight more – Jungkook never backs down from a challenge – but to your surprise he goes incredibly still.

“Nothing I can do or say will make you stay, huh?”

You shut your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He goes cold then – like hell. Empty, freezing over, and he steps out of bed to grab some clothes in his luggage that he’s yet to unpack. You watch him, watch the last tears on his cheeks falling as he bends down. No new ones join them – he’s retracted somewhere inside of himself, probably in an attempt to protect himself. You’re not sure he’s aware of the coping mechanism, but you can recognize it.

He was in that same place when you met him again the year after his accident, before you started dating. Once, he told you that you were the one to rescue him from it.

Who will rescue him now?

You start crying again, and you force yourself to get out of bed. To grab some clothes as he’s zipping his luggage after getting dressed.

“Stop,” you tell him. “I already have plans to go stay with Bridget and Heather.”

He stops moving, and then slowly gets up. He glances at the door of the bedroom. Bam is looking through the small gap, and he gently pushes on the door to open it wider.

“What about the dog?” Jungkook asks, sounding so detached you can barely recognize him.

It breaks you even more. You’re selfish – you wish he’d fight more. You wish he’d convince you to stay, but now he looks like he doesn’t even care anymore.

You probably deserve it.

“You can keep him,” you say, as you struggle to put your clothes on, hands trembling so much it makes you lose your fine motricity. “When you-“ A sob breaks the sentence. “When you leave again I can take him in.”

Jungkook nods, and then he glances towards the television. The movie is still playing, yet it’s nearing the end now.

Everything comes to an end.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses loudly, and he moves to the bed, grabbing the remote so he can turn the TV off. He then looks at the bed. “You’re leaving with those?”

“Jungkook…”

“You’re fucking leaving with them?”

He’s motioning to Totoro and Appa, and you cry some more as you nod. “Okay. Yes. I’ll come back later for the rest.”

“Okay.”

There’s an immense silence then, as you finish putting your clothes on. As you go to the closet, where you’ve already packed a duffel bag with stuff for a week. Jungkook scoffs when he sees it, and it almost makes your legs give out under you.

“You weren’t going to give me a chance, were you?” he asks bitterly, reproachfully.

“My decision was made,” you answer with a small voice. “I just… it’s too hard.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

You know Jungkook often hurts others when he himself is in pain. It’s something he said he didn’t want to do anymore, a side of him he told you he hates. You’re not surprised to see it come to the surface right now – you don’t think he’s ever gotten his heart broken like this before.

So you’re not surprised when he adds, “We should have broken up when we fought on the phone. Because why was I so fucking stupid to think you still loved me?”

Your heart breaks. It’s been breaking, but now it’s different. Burning, throbbing pain takes over the beating organ, and you struggle to breathe. The air is boiling in your lungs, and it’s so fierce you feel it in every inch of your body.

“I do,” you tell him. “It’s not because I don’t love you…”

He laughs. He bursts out laughing, and it’s a little crazed, a little scary. “Right. Yeah. Tell that to yourself.”

In that instant, you remember when you’d told him you loved him for the first time. At his art exhibit, choked on emotions you thought you’d always know. You don’t know them anymore, but he’s wrong.

You’ll always love him.

“Kook…”

“Will you fucking stop calling me that?” he asks, and he finally meets your gaze again.

“Sorry…”

He sighs loudly, tongue poking at his cheek. “Are you leaving now?”

It’s weird – the way he says it reminds you of your mother when she kicked you out years ago. It reminds you of the early days with Jungkook and you don’t think you can move. You’re stuck in the spot where you’re standing, watching him as he watches you.

When his gaze breaks and he lets out, “Please”, you finally start moving.

First to the bed, to grab Appa and Totoro, and then towards the door.

You push the door open, and Bam wags his tail as you walk out. You’re crying again – you’re not sure you ever stopped – but the sight of the dog makes everything worse. Because it’s not only Jungkook you’re losing, it’s Bam too.

It’s your life. You’re losing everything that matters to you, in an attempt to save yourself. In an attempt to find something better for yourself, something that won’t ache for months at a time like being with Jungkook now does.

“Hey, Bamie,” you say, and you hold the plush toys away as he tries to bite into Appa’s paw. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You bend, and you let the dog lap at your cheek, as if he can dry your tears. When he stops to look at you curiously, head tilted to the side, you press a kiss to the top of his head. You can’t move for a time and, as if sensing it, Bam remains entirely still too.

He only moves when you stretch, and it’s to press his body against your legs, as if trying to stop you from leaving. Tears cascade down your face, and you tell him you’re sorry, too. You repeat that you’ll see him soon again, hoping that it’ll help, and then you’re walking around him. Walking towards the door, walking towards the crying world outside.

Jungkook follows behind, silent as ever, hands lost in the pockets of his sweatpants, eyes lost in the void. You put down your stuff by the door, put on a light coat and grab your keys. You store them in your coat pocket, and then head to the door, to put on your shoes.

Every step feels like lead, like death, and you just keep crying. It only stops when you meet Jungkook’s gaze, when you’re ready to leave.

Or as ready as you’ll ever be.

“So that’s it?” he asks.

“That’s it,” you agree, and you wish you didn’t. Wish those weren’t the words you said.

He nods once, looking like he’s burdened with a great fatigue. “Alright.”

You want to scream at him to say more, but he doesn’t. Only stays silent as he looks at you, doe eyes so big. His waterline is wet again, and he’s got red splotches all over his face. He’s fighting the tears this time around and you wish you’d give him a reprieve, wish you’d be able to leave but, once again, you’re rooted in your spot.

Maybe because you still have more to say.

“Thank you for…” You pause, take a deep, shaking breath in. “Thank you for the years. I had a lot of fun with you.”

“Please go.”

You nod once, and then you turn around. It occurs to you that your hands are full, and you look at the doorknob as if it’s foreign. Jungkook must have noticed, because he steps forward, his hand reaching for it.

He stills halfway there, with his arm right next to you. And then you hear him choke on a sob, and you drop what you’re holding to face him, to pull him into a hug.

You don’t know how long you cry, holding onto each other like this. Because the moment you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist, Jungkook wrapped his around your shoulders, and he hid his face in your hair.

You cry and cry, together. The last thing you’ll ever do together, you reckon. You wish it wasn’t the case, wish the ending was still at the end a very long road, but it’s come short tonight and it’s too late to stop now.

You break against him, holding him. He’s shaking in your arms, as much as you’re shaking in his. Both of you trembling leaves in the wake of your end. And then you fall to your demise, carried away by the wind.

You don’t know when you let go of him. Only come to your senses when you’re in bed, sometime between dusk and dawn, away from him.

You’re never going to hold him again.

Teaser | Next

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Pain. I'm crying again from rereading one last time before posting. Please don't hate me oop- let me know what you think of the fic! Did we like it, even though it hurts? All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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when the end comes when the end comes ch 1 jungkook angst jungkook smut jungkook x reader my bb ella moots

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jessikahathaway

2 years ago

When the End Comes | ch 2 (jjk)

☆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: moving, curses, alochol, explicit content: female and male masturbation, pain kink (Jungkook), mentions of blowjob and penetrative sex

☆word count: 8.7k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: I don't even know what to say about this chapter, just that I FEEL their pain so much :'( justice for my babies

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3

☆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!)

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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

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Thursday, July 6th

Days and weeks have passed. Apparently, even months have. Jungkook hasn’t really noticed – he’s been stuck in a daze, stuck replaying your breakup over and over again. Wishing he’d begged you to stay, though he could tell that nothing would have been fruitful.

You had made your decision already.

He hasn’t done anything since you left. Hasn’t left your apartment except for looking for a new one, when Yoongi forced him to go. Because alone, he can’t afford the one you had together. And it’s too filled with memories anyway.

All the pictures on the shelves by the window, turned towards the wall the night you left. The echo of your laugh, in every room he steps in. The ghost of you, just a silhouette he can’t ever reach when it’s dark and his mind is playing tricks on him.

The night you left, he thought it was a joke. A sick, twisted prank, and he believed you’d come back. When hours passed and dawn approached, he got up from the spot where he was sitting in, near the door, and turned the pictures towards the wall before heading to bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, and he’d slept with Bam directly on the floor.

A few nights later he’d made an actual bed with blankets on the floor, and he’s been sleeping there since then. But not tonight – tonight he’ll try sleeping in bed, in his new apartment.

A space that shouldn’t remind him of you too much.

He’s packed almost everything before today. He had nothing else to do, and it served to keep his mind busy during the long hours of the day. At night he usually has nothing to keep his mind from going to you, and he thinks he’s stuck in the moment when you left.

It’s a looped film in his mind, a horror movie that will forever haunt him.

The boys are helping. They brought most of the boxes he’s packed to his new place already, a small studio in the same building as Yoongi and Kiko. It’s on the other side of town, far from where he built a life with you, and he really hopes your ghost won’t follow.

Though he doubts he’ll ever escape it.

Everyone is currently doing a trip to the other apartment, except Jungkook and Yoongi. Mostly because Jungkook has been standing in the empty living room, save for the pictures on the shelves.

You left with the couch and the dinner table, telling him to keep the TV even though you were the one to buy it years ago. And that day you came to pick up your stuff…

Another haunting moment to add to the long list that’s been tormenting him since you broke up.

He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching as the familiar ache takes over his heart. He doesn’t want to cry today – at least not before he’s alone in his new place. Because he hates how his friends are concerned, hates that he can’t just stay home alone.

None of them understand the sorrow that’s been plaguing him – hell, all of them except Jimin are happily dating. A dirty, ugly part of him hates them for it, and he’s been trying to distance himself.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, startling him.

Jungkook’s hand falls to his side, and he forces his eyes open. Yoongi is next to him, an eyebrow cocked in question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to put these in a box?” Yoongi enquires, and Jungkook clenches his fist as Yoongi’s pointing to the pictures.

“I can take care of it.”

It takes him a few seconds before he does get in motion, and he heads to the shelves. There’s already a box waiting for the frames, one Taehyung put there earlier before Jungkook told him not to touch anything.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi asks carefully.

Jungkook steels himself as he grabs the first picture. He already knows which it is, from its placement on the shelf. It’s one of his exhibit’s pictures. The one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. It’s the sunset from the living room of the apartment he’d found for you.

Seeing it hurts, but he barely pays attention to it, carefully putting it in the box before grabbing the next one. There you are, cheeks red and smile bright in the snow of December, and he feels like dying as he remembers the name of that one.

‘Where I learned to love again’. It feels like it’s laughing at him right now, like life is having a good laugh at his expense. He wants to throw it away, to burn and watch your beautiful form crumbling into ashes.

Instead, he puts it away, before moving to the next one. He thinks he goes blind – he doesn’t see the next pictures. Doesn’t focus on any of them, and lets the ache take over his action, over his heart. When he’s done, he realizes that the apartment is once again filled with voices – none of them being the right one, and he wishes to be alone.

Wishes to be allowed to crumble, to let himself be carried by the wind.

The rest of the day is a blur. He barely remembers getting to his new place, riding shotgun next to Jimin while Taehyung and Namjoon talked about something on the backseat. Jimin was silent, respecting Jungkook’s need to not speak, and maybe it’s for that reason that Jungkook says yes when Jimin asks if he wants some company when the others finally start filing out at the end of the day.

They all hug him tight, tell him that they love him and hope he’ll like his new place. With everything placed, Jungkook knows that he’ll always hate it, because it lacks the only thing that he truly wants – you.

And he’ll never have that again.

“Want to order something?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook is sitting on a kitchen chair, watching the condensation on his glass of water when Jimin speaks. He raises his head – his friend is scrolling on his phone, and he shoots Jungkook a look as he remains silent.

“Sure,” Jungkook finally answers. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Jimin nods. “There’s this great dumpling place nearby, and they deliver.”

“Oh.”

If Jimin notices Jungkook’s lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t mention. Because Jimin is a good friend – he’s been one of Jungkook’s closest friends for years for a reason after all.

“Pork and green onion works for you?” Jimin asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ll get the marinated cucumbers too.” Jimin pouts at his phone as he focuses, and then his gaze darts once to Jungkook. “Anything else you want? They got bobas too.”

Just thinking about drinking boba makes Jungkook feel nauseated, so he shakes his head no. Jimin purses his lips, nods curtly and then says the food is on its way.

His statement is followed by silence, until the front door opens as Yoongi returns with Bam, as promised. Kiko was taking care of him all day, since she and Yoongi live in the same building. Yoongi promises that Bam was a good boy, and then he leaves again, nodding his head at Jimin.

As if to say ‘thank you for being here’. Jungkook hates the gesture, hates that he let Jimin stay, but he figures he can always just ask him to leave when they’re done with the food.

He had to eat anyway, right?

Needless to say, his appetite has been off, since the day you left. He’s been working out more though, something to keep his mind busy, but he’s been unable to eat like before. Jimin forces him to eat half the dumplings though, and Jungkook reckons that even after everything, dumplings still slap.

Not a lot of things in life still slap without you around.

One thing that does suck is, Jimin tries to make conversation through dinner. He asks Jungkook if he has any project coming up, if he ever plans on returning to Europe. The answer is easy, and Jungkook gives it without an ounce of hesitation.

“No.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, as if surprised by his answer. “Why?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but offers no answers. He thinks it’s obvious – he’s been hating the European continent ever since the night you left because he can’t bring himself to hate you instead. So he directed it to the place that took you from him, and so far it’s been keeping him going.

“You know…” Jimin carefully says. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about it. But how are you even doing, bro? Every time I see you it’s just…”

Worse. He’s convinced that’s what Jimin was going to say, and he doesn’t blame him. It’s worse every time because he has been getting worse. As if adding another mark on the calendar equals to adding another on his heart, and the wounds haven’t had time to heal.

He doesn’t think there’s enough time in a lifetime to heal from losing you.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook lies easily.

Bam offers him salvation, barking by the door. As he rarely does, Jungkook gets up, a frown moving on his features. Jimin lets him go, even as Jungkook mumbles he’ll take the dog outside. His friend remains silent, and Jungkook is able to slip into the evening without Jimin pressing him about the lie.

As Jungkook had assumed, Bam just needed to pee, and probably barked because of the unfamiliar environment. Jungkook debates taking him on a walk, hoping Jimin would be gone by the time he comes back, but it feels too cowardly, even for him.

So he takes Bam in right away – the walk would have been hell anyway.

Jimin hasn’t moved while he was gone, and Jungkook tries to avoid the conversation by cleaning the table, putting away the empty dumpling container in the recycling bin after he’s rinsed it thoroughly. He feels Jimin’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but he does his best to ignore it.

“You shouldn’t drop your job in Europe,” Jimin suddenly says.

Jungkook whips around from his spot by the counter under which the recycling bin is. “What?”

“Isn’t it…” Jimin winces, shaking his head slightly. “Listen, this will be tough love, but isn’t it losing everything if you just… drop it too?”

Jungkook sees red. “Get the fuck out.”

“Bro.”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jimin says carefully, still not moving from where he’s sitting.

Jungkook has half a thought that he could carry his friend out if he wanted to, but surprisingly enough his heart breaks in his chest, tears blinding his vision.

“I just can’t go, okay?” he chokes out, and his nails dig in the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists hard. “I just can’t.”

Jimin watches him carefully, before sighing deeply. “Okay. It’s okay. There’s plenty of stuff you can do here too.”

Jungkook gulps, blinking the tears away until Jimin is clear in front of him again. “Can I…”

He stops, because he knows he shouldn’t ask. Knows he shouldn’t care, yet he can’t help himself. Jimin doesn’t press, waits for him to be able to speak. It takes longer than Jungkook thought possible, and he has to shut his eyes and lean against the counter before he finds words again.

“Can I ask how she has been doing?” he voices, words falling softly, almost soundlessly, in the space between them.

“Jungkook…”

“Just,” Jungkook lets out, eyes shooting open. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Jimin’s silence is telling enough – you must be going through it too. It fills Jungkook with bitterness, with something vile and disgusting that tastes like bile on his tongue. Because you don’t get to be suffering, you don’t get to have made this decision and suffer from it.

Why the fuck did you make that decision then?

“You know,” Jimin starts carefully. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why did she do this?”

And then the tears are moving freely, and Jimin quickly gets up to hug him. Jungkook rests his forehead against his friend’s shoulder as he breaks in the embrace, like he’s been doing for weeks now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimin promises when the tears recede and Jungkook stops trembling, as if his body, too, is too tired to keep on breaking.

Strangely, he gets the feeling there’s nothing left to break anyway.

“How?”

Jimin remains silent for a while, as if searching for the exact right words to say. Jungkook doubts they exist – how can someone repair a broken heart such as his?

“Life finds a way,” Jimin eventually chooses to say. He pulls away from the hug, though he still holds onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Life always finds a way.”

Saturday, July 15th

You’re tired. Have been tired. Think you’ll forever be tired. A relentless exhaustion has settled over you like a mantle of snow settles on the land during the months of winter. With it comes an unshakable cold, and even though it’s summer you’ve been cradling your hoodie to your frame, draping yourself with it as if it’ll chase the cold away.

The cold is never going to leave. You think your heart turned to ice in your chest, and it pumps freezing blood into your veins. You’ve been trying to warm up, but heat is a mirage to you, an illusion you can’t reach.

Heather and Bridget are hosting a dinner at their apartment today. You’d wanted to avoid it, but considering they offered you a room for a few weeks before you found a new apartment, you couldn’t say no. Yet you dread the moment you’ll be faced with the other girls, some of them your friends because they are dating… his friends.

You’ve been trying not to think about him too much. It’s hard – he’s lurking at the back of your mind, a reminder of your failures. Of the places where you went wrong, the mistakes you committed. Not that the breakup was a mistake – you think you made the right decision, or at least you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have.

But you didn’t lie to him – you love him. Still do, though now it’s more like grief. Though, what is grief if not the next step in the eternal timeline of love?

You worry at your lips, bury your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. You fumble with your keys as you wait in front of the door, as you try to knock but find you’re unable to. Because it means talking to them, it means pretending that you have been able to eat or sleep for weeks.

You reckon Heather and Bridget know, to a certain extent. Saw you wither like a flower when autumn comes, though you think now you’re settled in deep winter.

You think it’ll pass. You doubt a pain like this can last – no soul can withstand it forever. But that would be admitting that he was your soulmate, and you aren’t stupid.

Soulmates don’t exist. Because if he was, why then was the distance enough to break you up?

You sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of your feet. You take a steadying breath – it does nothing to help.

You’re a coward. You’ve become a coward, and you think it might be because you put all of your courage in that night weeks ago. It broke you, broke the steel you used to be able to drape yourself with.

Now you’re stuck in the never-ending winter, withered and lifeless.

“Y/n!” Jo says, and you startle.

You turn your head to the side to see Jo as she’s walking around the corner, and she smiles at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply as your throat goes dry.

If he has a best friend, or at least a female one, you think it’d be her. They’ve been friends since before you reconnected with him, since before you even knew her. Seeing her feels like it’s wrong, but then again everything has been feeling wrong lately.

“Did you already ring?” Jo asks as she stops next to you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head no. “Huh,” you let out. “I was about to.”

Jo nods, and you think she immediately senses your unease. She’s a good person though, and an even better friend. She doesn’t say anything, and she rings the door for you.

You don’t know what to tell her. All that you can think of is, if someone has news about him, it would be her. She’s the only one you believe there’s a chance he’s been honest to.

Before you can say anything, the door opens and Bridget ushers you inside. You realize that you’re the last ones to get there – you usually never are. Usually always make sure to be the first, only so that you can help the hosts.

It seems losing him changed that.

You greet everyone half-heartedly, quickly moving towards Jiho. Jiho hugs you, tells you she’s happy you came. You can’t return the sentiment, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile as Heather announces that dinner is ready.

Their chatter is lively. You feel like you’re watching the scene through a frosted window. Like you’re stuck in a blizzard, watching people reveling in the warmth of the other side, wishing somehow that they’d share it with you. And it’s not that they don’t try; multiple times throughout dinner the other girls try to talk to you.

You reply, you always do, but there is just so little to say, so little words your brain can conjure up. It’s like your thoughts are slower – you’ve been that way at work too. You’re lucky, you haven’t been working on anything big in the last few weeks. But next week you will be, and you don’t even know if you’ll be able to do it.

At least Harrison is on the case with you. As one of the most talented junior partners of the firm, you think he’ll be able to manage the case even with you at his side.

You eat what you can, though you’ve run out of appetite before you even broke up. You force yourself, mostly because you don’t like how Kiko’s looking at you. How you notice her leaning to speak in Jo’s ear more than once during the meal.

You’re aware that they’re speaking of you – do they hate you as much as you hate yourself?

You doubt they can.

When dinner is over, you offer to clean the dishes. Jo ends up on washing duty with you, and you work in silence, water sloshing around as you rub the plates clean while she dries.

You’re cleaning a wine glass when she says, “How have you been?”

The question is a simple one. The truth isn’t so, and you wonder if you should lie. You think it’d be a mistake. Jo’s perceptive, she’d see right through the lie.

“I’ve been better,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders as if it doesn’t matter.

That much is a lie, because everything about him mattered.

“I can understand.”

Heavy silence follows, and you pass the glass to her. You hope she won’t speak more, hope she’ll offer you kindness and let you dwell on your mistakes, but you know it’s unlike her.

Indeed, she speaks up after a minute. “You know…” She pauses, and you glance once at her to find her features troubled. “I was wondering… what brought you to this decision?”

You freeze, hands in the water. It’s hot enough that your skin is turning scarlet, yet you barely even feel it. “What?”

“If you don’t want to speak about it it’s fine,” she gently says. “But I’m just concerned about you.”

“Did he ask you to ask me this?” you enquire, accusingly. You frown at the tone of your voice, and apologize as you resume washing the glass you’re holding.

“No,” she answers. “He hasn’t really been talking to anyone.”

You shudder, with horror and compulsion at the person that you were weeks ago, the one that caused him to isolate himself.

“Oh.”

Jo waits a moment, but when it’s clear that you aren’t going to speak again, she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t prod.”

You wet your lips, swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s okay.”

Perhaps that’s also a lie. Perhaps you believe nothing is okay, nothing will be okay again. But you don’t voice it – it’s all your fault anyway.

“It’s okay if it isn’t okay, you know,” Jo gently says as you hand her a glass.

Your vision blurs, but no tears fall. No tears are left – you cry them to sleep every night already.

“Long distance is a bitch,” is what you eventually say. “You think you can make it through everything, and then long distance happens.”

You want to clench your hand around the third glass, want to feel the shards of it cutting through your palm like the shards of him have been stabbing through your heart. You force your grip to remain loose, lest you stain the sink with blood.

“Like for real, without it we would have been fine.”

You’ve told Jiho the same thing. You think you’ve told him the same thing, but you barely even remember the breakup. Just remember holding onto him at the end, and then winter seeping in through the crevices in your soul.

“I’m sorry.” Jo looks at you kindly when you glance her way. She offers you a sad smile that you want to hate, yet it just makes you want to break. “I’m really sorry it came between the two of you.”

You take a deep breath to tame the aching in your chest, nodding once. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not.”

She’s right, so you remain silent. Choose to seek solace in a wordless moment, one you spend finishing the dishes. And when you’re done, and she’s wiping the last one, you find yourself asking, “How has he been doing?”

She stops moving, meets your gaze before letting her gaze drop to her hands. “As I said, he doesn’t really speak to anyone.”

“Which means he hasn’t been great.”

You know him enough to know that. She does too – she nods, before shrugging her shoulders. “Jimin and Tae have been making sure he’s okay though. Surviving.”

Because sometimes all there is to do is survive.

You’re relieved that his friends are there for him. It lessens the pain somehow, to know he’s not alone. You aren’t either – Jimin is your friend too and, even though she’s a mom of two, Jiho has been there for you ever since the breakup.

The first time Lisa asked you where Jungkook was though… felt like heartbreak uttered in an innocent sentence. Like the universe had gone wrong, like left and right were interchanged. You were lost then, and you still are today.

All at your expense.

“Good,” you answer.

She looks conflicted, pained – you understand why when she asks, “What about you?”

You clench your jaw out of reflex, as if it’s an accusation. As if admitting that you’re going through frozen hell is wrong of you, somehow. You think it is. After all, this is supposed to be better than the distance.

“I’ve got Jimin too, and Jiho,” you reply, voice strained. “Bridget and Heather too. They’ve been helping.”

Jo nods. “Good. Don’t isolate yourself.” There’s a pause, and her features turn pensive. “And you know, you got me too. You have all of us.”

Tears blur your vision, but like your soul they turn to ice before rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

Smile apologetic, she nods again, as if her job here is done. And it must be – Kiko and Bridget walk into the kitchen, and they clearly don’t sense the atmosphere that’s clinging to you. They strike conversation with Jo, happily, and her stance switches to one that’s more relaxed.

You decide to leave them alone, because these three have always been a little closer to each other than you to them, and you return to the other room, where Chaeyoung, Valeria, Jiho and Heather are lounging on the couches. You debate leaving, debate claiming that you have to work early in the morning, but somehow you choose not to.

Is it a sign that you’re moving on? You don’t know.

When you do leave, later that night, at the same time as Jo and Chaeyoung do, you find yourself walking next to Jo as you head to your respective cars. Lance is picking Chaeyoung up, and she waves you two goodbye as you walk away.

You stuff your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie, as if the air outside is remotely cold. It is not – there’s been a heatwave around for a few days. Luckily enough for you, a freezing heart seems to be a good remedy for the heat, and you still seek the comfort of your hoodie.

“I was wondering,” Jo says as you near where your car is parked. “Are you still planning on coming to the wedding?”

The forsaken wedding. The thing that set everything in motion – the spark that caught fire on years of your relationship.

You purse your lips, shrug your shoulders. “I think so,” you voice. “Yeah. You two are my friends, even if…”

If you’re closer to him. You don’t say as much, but it’s needless. Jo nods, understanding as ever, and she tells you that you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.

You think she’s a fool for believing that you wouldn’t want to go. Because… what’s wrong with wanting to make sure he’s okay with your own two eyes? What’s wrong with needing to see him in another context than this never-ending winter?

That night, you lie awake for hours. Picturing him behind your closed eyelids, only to find emptiness where he should be. The blankets are cold, the fan overhead not needed, yet you can’t bring yourself to turn it off.

Can’t chase the feeling of his absence from your heart.

You seek solace in memories of him, in the thought of his lips on yours. Of the featherlight kisses you used to exchange in the dead of night, when sleep was evading you or him. You must be half asleep – because suddenly you can almost see him here. Can almost hear his voice as he’d call you baby, mouthing the word against your neck before he’d suck on it.

Your heartrate picks up with the memory – they’re flooding in. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the inebriating sweetness of his kisses. You remember the weight of him on you, the press of his knee between your legs.

And then you seek solace with a hand between your thighs, trying to remember how he touched you. How his long fingers always dragged you to a land of pleasure, how he’d managed to keep you there until you were insane with his taste.

You breathe out his name, a soft moan, though it’s almost a plea. A plea for him to appear, for him to never have been gone.

For you to never have pushed him away.

When you come down from the high that finds you in your memories, you lie on your side, holding one of your plushies to your chest. They don’t replace him; they never have.

You end up crying yourself to sleep over the memories, over the July night sky and the dance crew and every night you took for granted, believing that he’d be yours forever.

You cry for your decision, no matter how right it was. Because you know it’ll always feel wrong.

Friday, July 28th

There’s something about work that’s been setting you on edge. That’s been making you want to pull your hair out of your head – if only that was possible. It’s strange; you’ve been thinking about the breakup less now that you’re neck deep in work.

Now that you spend hours upon hours at work, after the usual closing time.

Luckily enough, you’re almost never alone. Harrison accompanies all of those late evenings as you work through the case, as he tells you what to do and you tell him you don’t need his help. He laughs at that – Harrison has an easy laugh. It makes its way to his lips whenever you speak, and it’s been like a ray of light in the otherwise dark land of your heart.

He’s a good coworker. Someone that’s noticed just how bad you are, but that’s decided to not treat you differently. To let you nurse your heart in peace, while he offers you the normalcy of what work should be.

Today, at lunch break, he suggested going out for dinner and drinks, along with the rest of the team that’s been working on the case. Mostly because you’re finally closing in on something that is clearly going to be good, and he believes it’s important to celebrate. You don’t have it in you to say no, and that’s how you find yourself squeezed between him and Anna, the paralegal that you’ve worked with the most, in the booth of a nice pub near the firm.

You’ve been sharing a nacho plate with Harrison and Ian, another one of the junior partners of the firm, and you’re sipping on a glass of the pitcher of sangria that Anna ordered for you and her. The buzzing of chatter and laughter makes the pub into a lively place, and you reckon you like the atmosphere.

You like the plants that cascade from their pots on shelves in the walls, like the hanging lights that shine brightly onto the tables, like the brick wall that gives the pub a nice industrial vibe. It just feels right, different than your usual.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the crew is different. That you aren’t with people that inevitably remind you of Jungkook, even though they shouldn’t.

Harrison’s English accent catches your attention as he says something to Ian – something about leaving work related conversation to the firm. As you turn your head towards the man at your side, he offers you a glance.

Harrison has clear blue eyes. Pale, like they hold the Caribbean sea in them. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, and you offer him a smile.

He’s quick to smile back, and then he continues his conversation with Ian, who’s decided to speak about sports instead. You decide to join in, even though you know practically nothing about sports, and the two men tease you for it.

There’s no bite to it, yet it feels familiar. Reminds you of someone that used to tease you all the time, and with the sangria coursing through your veins, you decide to jump on the occasion. To let the past be the past, and live in this moment, for once.

Perhaps it holds some sort of salvation for you.

“It’s not my fault if football is boring!” you insist. “It’s just dudes throwing a ball. Who cares about that?”

Harrison nudges you with his elbow. “Hey come on,” he says. “They don’t only throw a ball, sometimes they kick it too.”

He’s got a teasing smile on his lips, and to your surprise you find yourself rolling your eyes. “And the point system? Stupid.”

“It isn’t!” Harrison says, faking offense. “You wound me.”

You cock an eyebrow as Ian laughs, before turning to speak to Sam next to him as the guy asks him a question.

“Aren’t you British anyway?” you ask him. “Why do you watch football?”

“Because I like dudes that throw balls,” he jokes, before realizing that his sentence sounded wrong as you burst out laughing. “Well, not like that.”

“No, of course not,” you tease back.

“It’s just a fun sport,” he insists. “Used to watch it with my step-dad when I was younger.”

Now, the revelation eases the teasing mood that you’ve been diving into, and you offer him a small smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Because you can get that. You can understand the need to love something because someone you loved introduced you to it – dance was that for you, once upon a time. When your mother had introduced you to it, when you were too young to realize that to her, you dancing was just going to be an accomplishment.

Until it became a curse, as you chose to not pursue ballet the way she wanted you to. But that’s old history – even though you still don’t talk to your mother all that much, the hatred you’ve held for her for years after she’s kicked you out is lesser now. Practically non-existent, and you have your therapist to thank for that.

Years of therapy really did help, eventually.

You realize, tonight, how you haven’t really been living since you broke up. You’ve been a mere ghost, a mere winter wind, but tonight you think the air warms up. It warms up into a tentative spring breeze, and you cling to it.

You say yes when Harrison suggests heading to a club after, a VIP one where he’s a member along with Ian. Say yes to the shots offered to you, and you ignore the texts in the group chat with the girls saying that they want to meet up for lunch tomorrow. You focus on the now, focus on the fact that he’s not all you’re thinking of.

No, his big, doe eyes barely exist in your mind right now, replaced by ocean blue and an English accent. At least that’s what you tell yourself as Harrison says he’s a shit dancer, and you admit you were on a dance crew for years.

He cocks an eyebrow, says you’re full of shit, and that’s how you find yourself pulling him to the dance floor, not caring that his hair is paler than your usual, that his smile rings different.

Harrison is not a good dancer. He’s awkward, clumsy, and he steps on your feet more than once as you dance face to face, swaying to the beat of the club music. The flashing lights feel like a haven, like you don’t have to hide in the darkness left by Jungkook’s disappearance from your life.

You let Harrison put his hands on your waist, let him pull you closer, until he’s resting his forehead on yours. Your eyes shut from the proximity, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Somehow, that’s what makes you remember – not the dancing, but the intimacy of the position. It makes you crave another, makes you need to forget, and you’re the one that closes the gap.

You’re the one who kisses him first, and he kisses you back all wrong. There’s something missing – the piercing, perhaps – but you don’t let it deter you. Focus on the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, and you sigh as you let him in.

But Jungkook is there, in your mind. When Harrison’s hands tighten on your waist, it’s in Jungkook’s hair that you want to thread your fingers through. When he groans softly in the kiss, as you bite his lower lip, it’s Jungkook’s lips that you want to be sucking on.

And you think it’ll always be Jungkook. He’ll haunt you forever – a reminder of your weakness, when it came to the distance. A reminder that, after everything, you’re the one that ruined it.

You’re the one that put an end to what was supposed to be forever.

It aches, coldly. You think your heart barely knows how to beat anymore. It’s erratic, painful, and when Harrison pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes finding yours, you think his irises are made of ice.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Hey,” is all you can think to reply.

If he sees the torment in your eyes, he ignores it. Guides you back to the table, where he leaves you with Ian and the rest claiming that he’ll get a water for you. And he does – he comes back with two bottles of water, and he hands you one as he sits next to you.

You think that’s what undoes you. That’s what breaks you, spills the content of your aching soul right there on the club’s floor. You don’t know who’ll pick up the mess – the one it belongs to is far away from these flashing lights. Far, yet closer than he was when the ending came. Somewhere in the city, you believe, because you don’t think he’s gone back to Europe yet.

Would he answer, if you were to call him? Would he pick up right where you left off, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if you haven’t destroyed his beating organ?

You hate it. Hate how, weeks later, the torture hasn’t diminished. Hate how you believed it’d be just a few rough days, when it’s been weeks and months and winter hasn’t changed.

So you do what you do best. You escape. Tell the table that you have to go, and make it outside before Harrison catches up to you. He asks if he can walk you home, which makes sense because you live in the same complex anyway. Not the same building, but Harrison lives in the one across the small square-like courtyard between the three condo towers where you’ve found a place to rent after Jungkook.

Up above, stars twinkle in the sky. They seem unaware that, after that cataclysm of a July night, the story came to an end. Like the universe never meant it, when it put you and him together. Or maybe it’s you – maybe you created a new cataclysm. Wrote your own fate, and all that crap.

You’re getting dizzy. Both with alcohol and spinning thoughts, but luckily enough the walk is short. Harrison grants you silence, sensing that you need it, probably. Because he’s gentlemanly. Not that Jungkook wasn’t – it’s just different.

And you shouldn’t be comparing him to Jungkook, but it’s far too easy. Especially as your treacherous little mouth asks him if he wants to share a drink in your apartment, as you tell him that you feel better now that you’ve breathed some air.

He says yes, though he seems unsure. He seems unsure all the way up to your floor, and even more so as you pull him in a kiss when the door closes behind you and him. Especially as you breathe against his lips, “Do you think you can make me forget?”

After everything is done, and you lie awake next to his naked form, both of you staring up at the ceiling in silence, you know the answer to that question.

And it’s quite simple – no. Because no one will ever be able to make you forget the one you were supposed to be with until you turned to stardust. Until all that would have been left of the two of you was etchings on a stone, and memories in the space between this life and the next.

Harrison is kind – he tells you that he senses you shouldn’t have done it, gently. Tells you that the only person that can make you forget is yourself, and time. And when he leaves, he tells you not to worry about anything. That he can be a friend, if you need it, but that he doubts you want anything more.

He’s right, and you cry yourself to sleep holding onto Totoro and Appa, hoping weeks ago you would have listened to Jungkook when he’d said not to break up. Hoping to turn back time, cursing the linearity of it. Remembering the punctuate events of you and him, wondering how the distance was enough to undo your timeline.

The sun winks at you when it rises, mocking you as night ends, with no answer for you. The what-ifs shine as brightly as the rays of the morning, all of them piercing through your darkened heart.

You shiver and hide your face in Totoro, hoping one day you’ll be able to evade winter.

Friday, August 18th

Jungkook’s first thought when he steps into the restaurant is that it’s too loud. Too bright, with happy couples and smiling families sharing a meal as if life’s never ended, three months and ten days ago. He feels like an imposter – he hasn’t smiled since you left, and hasn’t laughed since before that.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, when Taehyung suggested it. Maybe because Taehyung and Jimin can be firmly persuasive, when they decide they’ll do something. Though, this time around, they’re not doing anything.

Anything other than having set this blind date with one of Taehyung’s coworkers.

Jungkook decides to find solace in his thoughts. Away from the bustling crowd of the restaurant, into the cool darkness where he’s been evading since he moved to his new apartment. Somewhere where the pain is lesser, where he doesn’t cry all the time.

That’s where she finds him. A shy smile, rosy cheeks as she voices, “Jungkook?”

He meets her gaze, finds her long lashes as she looks up at him innocently. He’s struck – she’s way out of his league. But so were you, and he’s got a whole story to tell about you now. He looks around as if to make sure the girl was speaking to him, as if she didn’t say his name, before he answers, “I assume you’re Emma.”

Another shy smile, and Emma nods her head. “The one and only.”

Jungkook wets his lips, and when the server comes to bring them to a table, he lets his gaze drop to the ground as he follows behind Emma.

He sits in front of her, feeling odd as she blushes and looks through the menu. Her shyness makes him feel awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say.

With you, he always knew what to say.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and then lets his eyelids flutter open so that he can look through the menu too. He thinks, he just has to make it through the evening. Doesn’t have to see the girl again, even though her shy smiles are cute.

She is cute, but she’s not you. No one will ever compare to you.

He takes a deep breath once more, tries to push you out of his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, it’s not as hard. Maybe because his awkwardness is winning over, making him all too aware of every glance the girl throws his way.

They order, barely exchanging a word, until the girl throws him a lifeline. She asks about his photography, admits Taehyung told her about it, and Jungkook settles in his comfort space as he tells her about it, as he answers her question.

It’s impersonal, almost professional, but at least it keeps the pain at bay for a while. He even thinks he’s enjoying himself – by the time they’re eating and he’s drank half of his beer, he does feel lighter. Like he can finally breathe, like the hand clutching his heart in his chest has loosened.

Or maybe he’s just been getting too good at burrowing his feelings deep inside of him. Still, he barely smiles, barely laughs. And he knows none of his smiles quite reach his eyes, and he knows the girl must have noticed. She doesn’t say anything though, focuses on telling him what she does for work, and then goes on to tell him about what it was like for her growing up.

He zones out, nods when he figures he has to, tries to smile when there’s a lull in the conversation. He’s clearly not good at that – he’s never really gone on dates before. Except with Laura, before you, but even that barely counted as a date. Perhaps because he already knew Laura, and he’s struck thinking that the girl in front of him is a stranger. A stranger, yes, but she’s kind. So when she suggests sharing a bottle of wine, claiming that it’s her favourite and that she’s wanted to drink it in a long time, Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to say no.

Even though they’re already done with eating. She does order dessert, and he watches her eat as he nurses his glass of wine, taking sips from it once in a while.

He hasn’t drunk in a long time, and the effects start to be felt faster than usual. Or maybe the beer he drank before the wine was strong. Either way, his head starts swimming with alcohol before they’re out of the restaurant, and he relishes in the feeling.

Revels in Emma’s suggestion to take a walk to clear their head, along the small river near the restaurant. The evening air is fresh, though clouds hide the stars from view. It smells of rain – there are leftover puddles from earlier today – but it doesn’t seem like the sky will cry again tonight.

A soft breeze plays in Jungkook’s hair. He hasn’t cut it in a while. It used to be a lot longer, but he’s not used to it anymore, so it feels weird whenever strands of his hair pass in front of his eyes. He tries to push them back but to no avail: the strands stubbornly always fall in front of his eyes again, and he ends up giving up after a moment.

Turns out Emma is a gamer. She suggests playing some games together the next time they hang out, and Jungkook doesn’t have it in himself to tell her that they, as a matter of fact, won’t see each other ever again. Not because she isn’t sweet – she’s just not what he wants. And he doesn’t even want the distraction.

He did that once, and it didn’t serve him good. Even if he managed to have you in the end.

“What’s your favourite game?” Emma asks as she stops next to some railing overlooking the water. She leans against it, forearms resting on it as she looks at the water, eyes following the ripples in the river.

“I don’t game as much anymore,” he admits. He shrugs, tries to ignore the way his lungs burn.

Because he used to game with you next to him, and he doesn’t need reminders of you.

“Mine is Valorant,” she says, and she smiles at him as if she expected that to make him happy.

“Oh,” he lets out. He offers her a tight-lipped smile, and feels bad when her face falls a little. So he quickly adds, “I took you more for a Sims girl.”

She fakes offense. “What? Why?”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and he’s struck silent as he watches it. She seems to take that as a cue for something else, because she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He thinks he’s frozen on his spot when she tilts her head back, tiptoes, and presses a featherlike kiss on his lips. Eyes wide opened, he watches her, until he figures he should be kissing her back.

So he does, hesitantly, as lead forms in his stomach, making him think that he’s going to be sick. Because she kisses him all wrong. Tastes all wrong too, and suddenly you’re burning in his mind, bright magma that moves in his veins until pain suffocates his lungs.

He takes a step back, and Emma’s eyes shoot open, as if startled. They stare at each other for a time, and then she gulps.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t care for her apology. Doesn’t care about anything other than the fact that he feels disgusted with himself. And for what? It’s not like he owes you anything anymore. As a matter of fact, he should be enjoying this. Should be enjoying that even though he was his most awkward self, he still was able to get the girl to kiss him.

Instead, he burns and he chokes on his saliva as he tries to swallow. He wonders why his vision is blurry, and he furiously blinks his eyes trying to keep Emma in focus.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “Gosh, I read this all wrong. I…” she pauses, shaking her head slightly, and it seems she’s been wearing a mask all evening, because it crumples into nothingness. “I just got out of a long relationship, Tae said you too and I just… Fuck I just assumed we could comfort each other?” When he remains silent, she continues, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She’s rambling, and Jungkook just hears his blood pumping in his ears. When he still doesn’t speak, she apologizes once more, and then tells him that she should go.

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t even look as she walks away, head hung low in what he assumes is shame. All he feels is the deep burning sensation, as it settles under his skin. Like a sunburn – he wants to scratch at it, wants to rip it from his skin, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re gone, and this ache is all that’s left of you. It’s all that’s left, so he clings to it. Tries to keep it close to his heart, where you belong. Picks at the scab, at the wound, until he’s bleeding all over again, breaking out in the city, where anyone can see that he’s lost you.

He doesn’t know how he makes it home. All that he knows is that he’s in the shower, later, head pressed against the tiles as cold water runs on his back. It mingles with the tears streaking down his cheeks, mixes with the saltiness of heartbreak.

It doesn’t cool the sunburn ache, doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. And you’re everywhere then – in the cracks on the wall, he believes he can see you. Believes he can reach out for you, though what he ends up doing is cranking the temperature of the shower up, until it’s not cold anymore.

Though he reckons he barely can feel it anymore.

So he forces his eyes shut, chases memories of you like a dog chases its tail – round in round, in a circle, because he thinks he’ll always circle back to you anyway. He imagines you, in all your glory. Imagines you’ve never left, imagines you’d still run your hands on his back, still dig your nails in his skin.

He doesn’t even know how his hand finds its way to the base of his dick. Doesn’t even know why he’s horny, why the pain makes him crave you more. Why it makes him touch himself, imagining it’s your touch. And with his eyes squeezed shut, you’re everywhere. The goddess of the land of his mind, and he can almost believe you’re still here.

He grunts, perhaps in pain, and picks up the pace on his dick. He remembers words whispered on your skin, your spit on his dick as you’d swallow around the tip. He remembers your tight walls, clutching him, holding him in as you’d ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He remembers a hot tub and the night that followed, remembers breaking and healing with you. Remembers the darkness of the accident, and the light you’d shine on him. The light is gone now, and only darkness remains. It’s not the same – it’s lonelier, somehow. Because he had everything, and now remains nothing. Just the ghost of what once was, and he wishes he could be taken back to the night on the hotel rooftop, wishes you’d never left.

And when he comes, it’s your name that he moans. Like a blessing, though now you’re a curse. A curse to him, and he wishes the pain would go away, wishes it would stay. Wishes it would bring you back, yet knowing he’d push you away. Because he doesn’t think there is pain as great as what you caused him, and then he curses himself for the thought.

That night, he lies awake in sheets cold as winter, weakened by his broken heart as he chases sleep that never comes.

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when the end comes ch 2 when the end comes jungkook angst jungkook smut moots <3 my bb ella

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jessikahathaway

2 years ago

THIS CHAPTER YALL I SWEAR-Ella always outdoes herself, this couple just makes me 🥺🥺🥺

When the End Comes | ch 3 (jjk)

☆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

☆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!)

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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

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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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when the end comes ch 3 when the end comes my bb ella

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jessikahathaway

2 years ago

🥲 y’all I cried reading this chapter but it’s so good.

When the End Comes | ch 4 (jjk)

☆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: fear of getting stood up, alcohol, pet names, curses, Jungkook's scars, angst, stubborn Jungkook, pessimism, depressive episode, cliffhanger at the end I'm sorry, explicit content: jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), Jungkook taking pictures of them during (I apologize, I have sinned), balls sucking/fondling, pain kink (Jungkook), deep throating, mouth fucking, unprotected sex, hickey, clit play, degradation, fingering, cum play (ish?)

☆word count: 14.3k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Rereading each chapter to edit is a challenge bc I just be sobbing the whole time :') I hope you enjoy this one, though it does really hurt oop

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆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!)

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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

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, September 8th

You clutch the gift bag in your hand. It feels strange to be meeting Jungkook again, after last weekend. And even after last weekend, you’re not sure where you’re standing.

Did he spend his whole week thinking about you the way that you were thinking about him?

You texted a little, over the week. Each time a notification from him popped up on your phone, you felt like you’d gone back in time. Like maybe, maybe you took a time machine to a past of better days last weekend. It’s bittersweet in a way, because you feel like there is still so much left unsaid between you and him.

But he’s willing to try. Even if you broke him, even if you’ve been wondering if there’s anything salvageable after all, he’s willing to try. Willing to meet you at a Korean barbecue restaurant halfway between his place and yours.

You check the time, anxiety flooding your veins. He’s running late, though he texted you to tell you he was almost there. A part of you wonders if he’s going to stand you up – you think you’d deserve it. Because you’re not sure you deserve this chance, yet you don’t want to lose it, don’t want to let it go.

You look down at the bag. You bought the gift on a whim this week, and you have no idea if he’ll still want it. It’s a lens he was looking to buy months ago, before he left for Paris, and there’s a high chance that he’ll have bought it for himself since then…

You just couldn’t think about anything other than that to gift him. Even though his work was your demise, you know Jungkook loves photography. Always will, no matter where you two will end up. And since it was his birthday last weekend – before you’d reconnected – you thought why not? Why not get a gift and show him that you still care, that you remember?

Because you’d never forget, when it comes to him. You think, if you had dementia, he’d be the last thing you’d lose, if at all.

You worry at your lip, glancing around. Luckily enough for you, there is a bench outside of the restaurant, though you can only sit on a corner of it as the rest is still wet from the rain earlier. It was raining when you left work, but it fortunately stopped as you were getting ready for the date.

You sigh, looking down at your phone again. Twenty minutes late seems like a long time, considering that Jungkook’s not one to be late usually. A sense of dread takes ahold of your heart, and you already feel tears forming in your eyes.

You were foolish, stupid. Idiotic, if you thought there was a way things could be set right.

You get up, looking towards the door of the restaurant. A couple are waiting in the hall, arms around each other as they hug with not a care in the world. It aches deeply, makes you crave the physical intimacy last Saturday held and you gulp as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Still you stay rooted in your spot. There’s a light tremor that starts taking a hold of you, and you regret not putting a jacket on even though it isn’t remotely freezing today. Your eyes fall to the gift bag, and you think about May. About the moment you’d let him go – has he gotten too far for you to reach him now?

A tear wins. Or perhaps it’s the gravity, growing ten times stronger as your heart breaks again. As the hope gets lost to you, replaced by that same deep sorrow you’ve become accustomed to. You sigh, the breath of air trembling on the way out.

And then you almost let out a scream as someone touches your arm.

Jungkook startles just as much as you, taking a step back, his big, doe eyes widening even more as he meets your gaze. Your mouth remains open, yet no words come out. You just take him in, take his appearance in – his piercings, the beanie he’s wearing, his flushed cheeks. He looks like he was running, and you think maybe he was.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you.

At that your eyes drop to the bright pink bouquet of flowers he’s holding, and something inside of you heals, as if you’ve found a cure to the disease.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you let out. You meet his gaze again. “You didn’t have to.”

He pulls at his piercings, shrugging sheepishly. “I wanted to.”

It’s warm. Whatever is blossoming in your chest is warm, a stark contrast to the winter you’ve been stuck in since the night you lost him.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and you blink away the tears in your eyes.

You freeze when he wipes the one that’s already rolled on your cheek, frowning slightly at the sight.

“The florist I wanted to go to first was closed,” he says as an explanation. “I had to run around to find another one.”

You offer him a small smile, and his features immediately smooth out into a soft expression too.

“I was scared you were…” you trail off, wetting your lips as you refuse to voice your fear.

Refuse to admit you didn’t have faith in him.

“I thought you would,” he answers carefully. “Hence why I ran.”

You nod. “I…” You look down at the gift bag, holding it up. “I got you a birthday gift.”

His smile is teary when you look at it next, and you take a moment to delve into the depths of his gaze. There’s a small twinkle there, though it is faint, barely even noticeable. If you didn’t know him like the sun knows the moon, you wouldn’t recognize it.

He’s hopeful. It’s strange – there was no hope in Jungkook’s gaze last weekend. Or there had been, for a fraction of a moment, until it had been blown away by the wind. You can only hope that this time it will hold on strong.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, though the curve of his pink lips tells you he appreciates the thought.

He grabs the gift bag, not looking through it right away. Instead, he hands you the flowers, and you delicately take them, bringing them close to your nose so that you can inhale the fragrance. Your eyelids flutter shut, and a content smile moves on your lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you meet his gaze again. “And…” You motion towards the gift. “You deserved it. I think you’ll like it.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, as Jungkook looks down at the bag. He offers you a tight-lipped smile, and you cock an eyebrow.

“What?” he lets out.

“Aren’t you going to…” you vaguely answer. “Open it?”

“Oh, now?” He chuckles awkwardly, glancing around before pointing towards the restaurant. “Shouldn’t we go in to give our names?”

He’s got a point. Especially considering that it’s a Friday evening. So you do just that, giving your phone number to the hostess as she tells you there will be a thirty minutes wait. You and Jungkook move back outside after that, and he guides you towards his car, a few streets down.

“How was work this week?” he asks on the way.

“Better,” you admit, remembering how you’d told him that you didn’t like the new department in which you worked.

And it’s true – it has been better. Maybe because the excitement of receiving texts from him through the days made it easier to handle. Or maybe it’s because you haven’t been so damned cold since last weekend. All in all, work has been easier, even if it isn’t as interesting as it used to be.

“I’m glad,” he says, offering you a smile.

Silence surrounds the two of you, only interrupted by a car honking in the street. You startle a little, and Jungkook chuckles.

You’re struck. His chuckles have healing properties, you’re convinced of it. They spark hope into you, so bright you think you’ll be blinded, retina forever burned. Yet your eyes don’t lose focus on him, even as his lips return to a neutral expression.

“What about you?” you ask as your heart picks up in your chest. “What were you up to this week?”

A small crease appears between his brows, but it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it. “I’ve been going to the gym,” he answers. “And looking around for some jobs.”

His last sentence turns the hope into a firework show inside of you. “Yeah? Any luck so far?”

You reach his car, and as he always does, he opens the door for you. You blush, something you haven’t really done with Jungkook in forever, and you’re struck thinking that this feels new.

Perhaps this will be a new chapter in your relationship with Jeon Jungkook after all.

“Thank you,” you mutter as your cheeks burn. You sit in, and he closes the door before moving around the car to get in. You watch him do so, and he sits next to you, turning the car on just long enough so that you can roll the windows down.

“Now,” he lets out, eyeing the bag. “What’s this?”

For some reason, it makes you chuckle, and he shoots you a dumb smile that makes you think you’ve delved right into the heat of summer, warmth spreading through you. It erases the winter, replaces it with blooming flowers and bright sun rays, golden sunsets and the feeling of a soft breeze threading through your hair.

Needless to say, you want to cling to it before winter comes again.

“Open and you’ll see,” you answer, your heart racing as you glance at the bag, before going back to his smile.

He nods, and he opens the bag, taking out the paper first. Your heartbeat increases tenfold because, what if he doesn’t like it?

What if he takes it as an affront that you’ve given him something photography related?

But then he sees it. Sees the lens you bought for him, and his features turn somber, but not in a bad way. They settle into a calm expression, with a softer smile that barely even tugs at the corners of his lips. He takes a deep breath, and then looks towards you again.

Teary eyes find yours, and you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is where the end will find you. Lost in the swirling depth of his gaze, in the forgotten space of you and him.

He whispers your name, emotion making it heavier than the whole world. You nod once, as no sentences take shape in your mind to reply to him. You’re not sure you have to say something – he sees in your eyes the emotions you can’t quite voice.

“You really didn’t have to,” he adds, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. “Fuck.”

He looks down at the lens, takes it out of the bag so that he can examine it thoroughly. You observe him as he does so, as if you’re watching a show. And you think, maybe he is a show – a movie meant for you to admire on and on until you go old and blindness seeps into your gaze.

“I wanted to,” you reply.

He shoots you a quick look, just as teary as the initial one. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And then he laughs, a small vulnerable laugh that has you blinking back the wetness building up on your waterline. You echo it with one of yours, though it comes unexpectedly to you. But then again, you reckon you share the same feelings.

You always have, haven’t you? Your soul is in sync with his, has always been, no matter if distance put an end to the story of you and him. Or tried to, because he’s here today.

So are you, and if he allows it, you’ll never leave again.

“I’ve wanted this lens in forever,” he says, voice small as he turns it in his hands, looking at it in every possible angle. “You…” he trails off, meets your gaze and smiles again. “You remembered.”

You nod. “How could I forget?” You worry at your lips, shy away from his gaze to watch your wriggling fingers in your lap. “There isn’t a day I didn’t think of you.”

The revelation seems out of place, in a parked car on the side of a busy street. Yet it comes naturally to you, and meets him just as naturally. Because he nods, and then reaches for you. Grabs your jaw, gently, so that he can turn your head towards him. There’s a moment when you think the whole world holds his breath, and then he leans forward, brushes a soft kiss on your lips.

“I missed you,” he admits as he pulls away, letting go of your jaw reluctantly.

A tear slips on your cheek, and you quickly dry it. “I missed you too.”

And though the moment is heavy with emotion, you don’t want to run away from it. When you were younger, you would have fled like a deer hearing a branch crack in the woods. But today, today you want the weight of this emotion to rest upon you, like a weighted blanket that reminds you you’re alive.

The emotion lingers, past this moment and into the next. As you get the text that a table is ready for you and him, and you move back to the Korean restaurant. As you sit in front of him, watch him smile and laugh in time with you at the stupid jokes that you make.

You and him make more sense than you realized. Or maybe you forgot. Maybe the distance made you forget, but right now you think you know he’ll always be the one. And if you lose him again, he’ll be the one that got away, and you’ll search for him through every connection with temporary people.

Because there can’t be permanent people after him. He’s permanently inked into your heart, carved into your bones.

“How has your family been?” he asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, though you know he means your father, Isabel and Louis.

You know he’d never talk about your mother as part of your family.

“They’ve been great,” you answer. “Dad’s been looking to retire, or at least to have a lesser charge at work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows, but says nothing as he puts some meat on the grill between you and him. You observe him as he does so, wincing when flames erupt and he pulls his hand away – quickly enough, thankfully.

“How old is he again?” Jungkook asks after that, meeting your gaze again.

“Fifty-nine,” you reply. “But I don’t think it’s about his age. He just wants to spend more time with Louis.”

The softness that takes over his doe eyes makes you want to curl up in him, against him. Makes you want to listen to his beating heart until the day that it ceases, decades away from now. It’s a strong feeling, and you’re forced to blink away tears again.

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook gently says, and he reaches to pat your cheek.

It makes you laugh. Of course it does, and he offers you a dumb smile again. For the first time that night, you notice that yes, it does reach his eyes. The smile lights up his gaze, though there’s wariness, etched in the lines of his face.

It’s not that you missed it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it. But right in this instant, it’s all you can see, and it makes his smile fall until his eyes follow, moving to the grill. He turns the meat as you busy yourself with eating japchae.

And you don’t like this silence. You don’t like the ache that it carries, so you force yourself to try. To try and fight for him and prove that, after everything, he really is where the end will be, when it comes for you.

“What about your family?” you ask, throwing him a lifeline in the storm you’re sure he’s been plagued with too.

“They’ve been great,” he answers. “My brother’s wife is pregnant again.”

For a moment you forget about the torment between you and him as your mind zeroes in on the fact. “That’s amazing!” you let out, and your smile comes easily. “They must be so happy.”

Jungkook looks at your smile, taking a deep breath. It seems he takes a decision then, because his lips curve up, and some of the wariness fades away. He looks softer like this, younger, and your heart shines under his light.

“It really is,” he says. “I was thinking on going to Korea to see the baby when Yuri gives birth.”

In another world, you would have said you’ll go with him, but right now you don’t think you can. So, instead, you reply, “That’s a good idea. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

He nods, and then he puts some meat in your bowl, taking the two other stripes for himself. You mindlessly pick one of the pieces up, mixing it in ssamjang before eating it. You wince as you burn your tongue a little, and quickly eat the meat so that you can take a long gulp of water.

Jungkook must have expected you to burn yourself, because he laughs at your expense as he refills your glass. “You good?”

You nod. “Sorry, just burned myself.”

“Don’t apologize.”

So you don’t. For the rest of the evening, you try not to apologize. And you think you succeed – you both speak as if distance wasn’t a thing between you. As if time hasn’t come to pass between you too – as if you’ve never been apart. As if, seven years ago, the stars told the truth as they sparkled in the July night sky.

You finish eating while chatting like this, while sharing thoughts about movies you’ve seen. As he tells you about working out, about Bam and the songs he’s been listening to. He drinks a beer as you speak, and you once again take a moment to admire him.

You’d never admit it, but the beanie makes him look good. Comfortable and soft – as does the jean jacket, you reckon. But then again you know Jungkook would look good in anything, one of the advantages of him being gifted with pretty privilege.

And when he clinks his glass with yours, claiming you have to finish drinking even though you’ve only been drinking water, you still laugh with him, still down your glass as he chugs the beer. And you wonder, how long will it take to erase the distance?

Will it take more than this moment in time, to undo the distance and rebuild the closeness?

And you think, maybe it just needs now. Because as you walk out, bellies full and minds buzzing with a slight tinge of alcohol, you accept Jungkook’s extended hand. You let him guide you to his car, even though yours is parked on the other side of the restaurant. He opens the door for you again, but you hesitate for a moment.

Long enough to step closer to him instead, and pull him down so you can peck his lips. He looks surprised, and his features fall serious as you share a long look.

“Can I come over tonight?” you whisper.

He nods. “I thought it was a given.”

Of course he would. And you’re not even mad that he would. You’re rather relieved, and you can’t help yourself. You can’t help pulling him down in a more heated kiss, even though you hate public displays of affection. There are just words your lips can’t say any other way than this, and he gets it. He’ll always get you. He always will, and he kisses you with the same intensity, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other presses on the small of your back, resting flat as he pulls you in. You hold his delicate waist, sighing in the kiss as your thumbs draw idle lines on his sides.

Jungkook pulls away to press a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a small eternity that leads to you wrapping your arms around his waist. He lets you do it, and you wonder if his soul has found yours. You hope it has, for there are things your soul can say even better than your mouth can.

Apologies don’t mean much when they are shaped in words. But you think your soul could show him, and maybe, maybe tonight he’ll allow you to show him.

“Are you parked somewhere you can leave your car overnight?” he asks softly, lips moving against your forehead.

You nod. “I am.”

“Then let’s go home.”

*****

It comes as a surprise, when you realize Jungkook has moved in the same building as Kiko and Yoongi. Even more so as they run into you on the way in, knowing smiles on their lips as Jungkook holds your hand tight. They don’t really say a lot – both of them aren’t man and woman of words, except when they pour them into the lyrics of a song.

But Kiko does hug you. Does whisper in your ear that she wishes everything will be set right for the two of you, and when you pull away to meet Jungkook’s gaze, you think it already is. Especially as you’re clutching the flowers he got for you, and their sweet fragrance surrounds you.

And then they walk away, as they were leaving to go on a late walk, and you and Jungkook walk in the building, making your way to the elevator. Jungkook presses the call button, and then pulls you close to his chest so that he can press a kiss on the top of your head.

“Well, that was awkward,” he says.

You chuckle. “It wasn’t really.”

His grip tightens around you before he lets you go so that you can enter the elevator. He follows you in, and he intertwines your fingers as he presses on the fourth floor. As the elevator starts moving, you pull him closer, tilting your head back as you pout slightly.

“What?” he asks.

“Kiss me?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He immediately dives in, and you’re surprised with the strength of the kiss. As if he’s pouring his entire soul in it, and you think maybe he is. After all, you kiss him back with all the fire in you, and it’s burning brighter than it ever has.

Unfortunately, the moment is short-lived as you reach his floor and the doors slide open. He pulls away, presses a kiss on your forehead as if he wasn’t sucking on your tongue a moment ago, and then he pulls you behind him as he walks towards his door.

It’s further down the hall, and you wait excitedly as he unlocks. Though you’re a little worried about seeing Bam again – what if he doesn’t recognize you?

Which, you reckon was a stupid thought, because the dog comes barging out, tail wagging wildly, when Jungkook manages to get the door open.

“Bamie!” you exclaim, and Jungkook carefully takes the bouquet of flowers from your hand to allow you to bend down and pet the dog.

He licks at your face, whimpering as if he thought he’d lost you. It brings tears to your eyes, and you giggle like a kid as you pet him, rubbing his short fur as he keeps running all around you.

“I think he’s happy to see you,” Jungkook deadpans, and you burst out laughing.

You look up to try and look at Jungkook, but Bam jumps in your vision, which makes you giggle again. And then, something magical happens. Something you didn’t think you’d hear again – Jungkook laughs that childish laugh of his, the one that usually only comes forth when he’s really happy.

You act by pure instinct. You stand up, wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck. His giggle dies against your lips, but he’s quick to kiss you back as he snakes his inked arm around your back. You let out a breathy sound, and then burst into a fit of giggles as Bam jumps on you.

“I think he demands attention,” you state and Jungkook nods as you part, though he keeps his arm close to you.

“We should take him on a walk,” he says, and you notice his cheeks are flushed red. You reckon yours probably are too, but there’s something about seeing the effect that you have on him, even after everything, that makes you come undone.

“I’m so happy to be with you right now,” you murmur.

He gulps, eyes shining suddenly. “Me too.” He adds your name softly, before repeating, “Me too.”

You walk in his apartment after that, to put the flowers in a large glass of water since Jungkook doesn’t own any vase. Meanwhile, he disappears in what you assume is the bedroom, only to reappear with his camera. To your surprise, he’s already fitted the new lens on it.

It’s endearing. There’s something so incredibly endearing at the thought that your gift is loved already, that Jungkook already wants to use it. It makes a line of silver appear in your eyes, and you don’t even blink it away as Jungkook angles the camera towards you to take a picture.

“Huh,” he lets out as he looks at the picture. He adjusts some settings, and before he’s had time to take another picture of you, Bam comes up to you, jumping up. His two paws rest on your waist as you laugh, and that’s when Jungkook snaps the picture.

You glance his way to see him smiling softly, and then he nods appreciatively. “I’m going to use this lens way too much,” he comments.

It makes you laugh. “I’m glad.”

And then you’re going outside with the dog. Jungkook brings the camera, and he snaps pictures of the surroundings, of you and Bam. He even takes one of the three of you, though you reckon the angle is clearly unflattering.

It doesn’t feel like it matters. Because you’re struck realizing that this, this moment matters. It matters enough for him to want to commit it to memory, and you wonder if he’s going to add it to all the frames you left behind.

But then again, did he even put them up in his new apartment? From what you could see when you were in, there was no picture visible.

It aches, but then he tells you to smile and you do. You immediately do, because there’s nothing easier than smiling when you’re with him like this. The wariness still clings to him, but it’s barely visible, like a mirage that’s about to fade in the distance.

“Stop taking pictures of me,” you say as he takes another one.

He lets out a noncommittal sound, shrugging his shoulder. “Why?”

You pout as blush creeps on your cheek. “You haven’t taken this many pictures of me since… Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “I took more pictures on our first trip to Korea.”

A beautiful trip, where you’d met his family for the first time. You had gotten along with everyone well, even though your Korean was poor. You got better through the years, but you still have a long way before you can speak in Korean without feeling like everyone is going to judge you.

“That’s beside the point,” you mumble. You motion towards Bam, who’s patiently sitting next to you. “I’m pretty sure he’s done.”

Jungkook pouts, and butterflies take flight in your stomach. “Sorry,” he apologizes.

You’re not quite sure why.

“I just…” he adds, and then shadows cloud over his features. They resemble the sorrow that was surrounding him last weekend, and just like that you think summer has ended. “I haven’t used my camera since…”

You don’t need for him to say it, because you know exactly what he was going to say. Still, it hurts, and your gaze drops to the ground.

“Gosh,” you whisper. You let out a strangled sound. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just grabs your hand, raising it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“We said we’d try,” he reminds you, or maybe he’s trying to remind himself. “Let’s try. For real. So no more apologies.”

“I feel like you deserve thousands of apologies and more,” you admit.

He kisses your forehead, and it’s against your skin that he whispers, “I just want us to move on from what happened.”

You nod, wrapping an arm around his waist to loosely hug him. Unfortunately, Bam pulls on his leash, and you have to let go of Jungkook far too quickly. Still, you meet his gaze, nodding your head again.

“I want to move on too,” you tell him. “If I could, I’d erase everything but…”

He holds out his hand for you to interlace your fingers with his. “But it’s in the past.”

He’s right, yet you see the wariness. It’s still there, though you think soon the mist will dissipate with the rays of the sun. So you follow him in, let him feed Bam before he shows you around his small apartment. It feels like him, in ways you can’t really describe, and you want to stay. You think, if he’d ask you’d never leave again.

“I like it,” you tell him as he finishes the tour in his bedroom, which is only occupied by an unmade bed with white sheet and a small night table with his pair of glasses on top. You notice the LED lights, and a smile moves to your lips. “Please tell me these still shine purple like they did at the house with the boys.”

Jungkook nods, offering you a grin. “Yeah. I thought it’d be great to have a… reminder of a simpler time.”

He turns them on, and you get it. You get it so much you grab the lapels of his jean jacket, pulling him closer to you. His lips are upon yours in an instant, hungry, insistent, ravishing a kiss that makes you light-headed. Especially as he grabs your face, holds on to it like it’s a life buoy in a storm. The piercings push into your bottom lip, their colder temperature making your tongue dart to them, as if to warm them.

Jungkook groans, and then kicks the door of his bedroom shut. He’s had to stop kissing you for that, but he’s kissing you again half a second later, and it’s even more intense, more desperate.

You let go of his jacket, hands blindly moving to his belt as he pushes his tongue in your mouth. You suck on it, moan lightly when he groans again. You fumble with the buckle, but soon enough you get it undone, and you move on to the button of his jeans.

You just want him. Need to feel his body against you, in you. And clearly he needs the same thing, as he pulls away from the hug to take your shirt off. Right as you get the button undone, and then unzip his jeans. You slip your hand in, letting out a breathy sound as you find him already hard. He sits heavy in your hand, and you squeeze him unabashedly.

“Fuck,” he curses, head thrown back as his eyes close. “Baby.”

The pet name has you drop to your knees, and you pull his pants down just enough for his dick to spring free. He doesn’t try to stop you, and you admire him for a time. Admire the brown base of his tip, the veins that run along his length. A bead of precum appears on his slit as you look, and you’re quick to lick it clean. The salty taste fills your mouth, and you look up at him, to see him watching down on you, strands of hair falling in his eyes where they’ve escaped the confines of his beanie.

“Suck it, mmh?” he says.

You grab him, jerking him off loosely. “Yeah?”

His eyes darken behind the strands of hair. He bites at his piercings, cocking his head to the side. And then he’s glancing away and to your surprise, he asks, “Can I take pictures of you while you suck my dick?”

You swirl your tongue around his tip, and he bucks his hips forward. In answer, you sit back on your heels, looking up at him innocently. “Right now?” He nods. “You want to take pictures of me while I suck your dick?”

“If you want to,” he answers. “If you don’t want to it’s fine.”

You close your lips around his tip, sucking once. “You’ll keep the pictures to yourself?”

You don’t know why you’re agreeing. Only know that the lust in Jungkook’s gaze is making you forget everything about common sense. But then again, you highly doubt that Jungkook would ever do anything to harm you.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open as he was about to answer, but when you take his dick as far as you can, he’s silenced. And he’s hard in your mouth, a rod of steel you’ve missed since last week.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes out.

You sit back on your heels. “Then it’s fine.”

He smirks, nodding his head as he finishes taking off his jeans and underwear. “Wait here.”

You purse your lips as he walks away, and you watch him leaving his room to head to where he left his camera. You patiently wait, feeling shy even though you have nothing to be shy about. This is just Jungkook – it’s not like he hasn’t seen you half-naked and on your knees for him before.

It takes him a moment to come back, but when he does, it’s to sit on bed. He’s still hard, and he leans back on a hand as you move closer.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?” he gently says as you run a hand along his thighs.

You glance at his scar, the familiar knot of skin giving you more confidence than you expected. “You’re going to jerk off to these pictures, mmh?”

He gulps, angling his camera towards you as you lean closer to his dick. You lick at it, and the shutter goes off.

It has you dripping in your panties, unexpectedly.

“So what if I do?” he asks as you grab his dick, stroking him.

The question is rhetorical, and your answer is to wrap your lips around his cock as your eyes flutter shut. You swirl your tongue around the tip and hollow your cheeks as you go down. You hold the gag reflex in as he hits the back of your throat, and you can’t help but moan as you hear his camera again.

You flick your tongue at his frenulum on the way out, and then you stroke his dick as you sit back. You move one hand to his balls, squeezing gently before thinking better of it and leaning forward, sucking on one. He grunts, and you keep your eyes locked on the camera as you jerk him off faster.

Another picture added to the list. And you’re dripping wet. Already you want to sink on his dick, want him to be so deep inside of you that you’re just one.

“Kook…” you murmur, and then you’re back to sucking on his dick, though this time you make sure to squeeze his balls too, the way that he likes it. Hard, but not too hard, and you’re choking around his dick in no time as he starts fucking up in your mouth, clearly forgetting about the pictures.

It goes like this for a while, with his dick growing impossibly hard. Your jaw aches by the time he pushes down on your head, hand lost in your hair. You gag, and he moans loudly. You think he’s coming, but he somehow manages to keep it in before pulling you off.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.” He breathes for a moment, as you wipe your mouth and chin from the drool.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. You glance at the camera. “Any good pics?”

That brings him back to the land of lust and passion, and he offers you a smirk. “We can look at them after. I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, because you know you’ve barely started. Know you’re likely to be unable to walk tomorrow. Because the lust in his gaze hasn’t shone so bright in years, yes, but also because you almost lost each other.

Or maybe you have, and this too is just a dip in the past.

You stand up, hands snaking to your back so that you can unclasp your bra. Jungkook watches you carefully, before taking a picture as you massage your breasts. It makes you bite at your lower lip, and you look at his hard dick where it rests on his stomach.

“Can I ride you?” you ask breathlessly.

He smirks. “You don’t want me to finger you first?”

Instead of replying, you finish undressing, taking off your pants and panties at the same time. You then push on his jean jacket, and he takes that as a cue to remove it. You motion to the shirt too as he was about to lean back on his hand and he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. When you nod, he takes it off too, and it makes his beanie fall.

His hair is a mess, and you can’t resist but step forward so that you can push it back, though you think the jet black strands are currently untamable. You give up after a few seconds, pushing on his chest so that he lies back.

His eyes are on you as you climb on his lap, and you grind along his length, coating it with your juices.

“Shit,” he lets out again. “You’re fucking dripping.”

You nod, moving up just enough so that you can grab the base of his dick. His tip prods your entrance, and he pulls at his piercings as you wait there, teasing him with a corner smile on your lips.

“Fucking tease,” he growls.

It undoes something in you. Because yes, you wanted to tease him. You wanted him to beg you to fuck him, but now you sink down on him, until he reaches your cervix. Even the pain of him hitting the back of your pussy doesn’t make you move, and your walls clench around his dick as he grunts out a curse, followed by your name.

“Kook,” you purr. “Fuck me good.”

He chuckles as you circle your hips, and his free hand rests on your hip as he angles his camera to take a picture of you again. “You can’t do the work?”

He says it condescendingly, and you find enough challenge in you to start bouncing up and down. It shuts him up, and the following moment is spent with you fucking yourself on him as he groans under you, your breathy moans filling his room. Soon enough he stops taking pictures, putting his camera down next to him so that he can hold your hips with his two hands.

And then he’s fucking up in you, and you cry out as you lean forward, wrapping an arm around his neck while your other hand holds on to his shoulder.

You’re a mess, yet your heart clenches in your chest as he fucks you like this. As you remember a land of winter, that somehow doesn’t feel as distant as it should. Maybe because of Jungkook’s wariness tonight, or maybe because you know all good things come to an end.

The thought douses your arousal, until Jungkook stills deep inside of you and whispers, “I want to be with you, like this, forever.”

You nuzzle your face in his neck and suck a mark on his skin. “Me too.”

And then he’s fucking you again, hard and quick. He holds you close, grunts in your ear as you lick at his neck. It’s an abundance of sensation, and your brain focuses on the way he hits your clit whenever he pushes up. Whenever his hips snap against you, and soon there’s an orgasm in the distance.

It finds you when he lets you sit up so that you can fuck yourself on him again, and his thumb finds your clit to press expert circles on it. It finds you hard, and your pussy spasms repeatedly on his dick. He helps you through the high, and when you finally come down, a dumb smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Fuck,” you let out.

“Felt good?” he asks with a teasing tone to his voice, the one you know he only reserves for you.

To hear it right now makes you love him so much you think you’ll die on the spot. Because yes, tonight has been great. Yes, it’s almost been like before, but what if he doesn’t take you back?

What if, in the end, this was just an extended moment meant to be closure for you and him?

“Yes,” you still reply.

Because no matter how much your heart aches in your chest, you’ll never lie to him.

“Good,” he says. He sits up, wraps an arm around your waist to steady you as he brings his mouth to yours.

You go in for the kiss. Meet him halfway, and you moan against him as he moves under you, albeit clumsily from the position.

His lips will make you drunk. Make you dumb, make you forget that there’s a world outside the door. That, in that world, you might not belong to him anymore. But then again, you think you do. To you, you always will.

“Lie on your side,” he says after a moment, lips moving against yours.

Jungkook pecks your lips one last time before you move, and then he kneels behind you. His dick prods your entrance again, and he grabs his camera to snap another picture.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praises as he pushes the tip in, taking another picture. “Such a good little fucking slut.”

And then he pushes all the way in, until all of him is embedded in you. You grip the sheets as a broken moan escapes your lips. He holds your hip with one hand, fingers digging in the supple skin as he fucks you hard, chasing his own orgasm.

He looks good doing it. Long hair sticking to the sweat on his face, eyes narrowed in pleasure, mouth open as soft grunts echo through the room. The purple light makes his honey skin glow somehow, and you feel another orgasm reaching for you, though it doesn’t hit right away. It just feels so good – as he always does – and you can’t help but clench your walls against him.

That’s what undoes him. He comes, ropes of white painting your insides, as he swears and says your name in a litany that almost makes you go over the edge too.

“Baby,” he says at the end.

It feels like a confirmation. Like a confirmation that, maybe, maybe you will work this time around. That maybe distance won’t destroy you again – maybe you’ll grow old and gray by his side.

“You came so much,” you say as you feel his hot cum sitting deep inside of you.

He pulls at his piercing, nodding once. And then he pulls out, and he takes a picture of the cum dripping out of you. He decides to push it back in, curling a finger inside of you, and your walls clench as you moan.

“Touch your clit,” he tells you.

You don’t need to be told twice. You quickly move your fingers to the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing quick circles on it as he pushes another digit inside of you, fingering you until the second orgasm finally finds you.

You cry out his name, a broken plea that doesn’t really make any sense as your vision turns white. And it stays that way for a long time, blinding you until ecstasy is swimming in your blood. And when you come down from the high, all that you can think is how much you missed him.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

“Baby…”

He puts the camera away, and then bends to press a kiss on your lips. It’s soft, and you grab his face to hold him in place, not even wincing as a bead of his sweat rolls on your cheek. You kiss him with a heart heavy with emotions, trying to show him that you’re never going to leave again. When he pulls away, you notice his teary gaze.

“Can we be together again?” he asks, and you watch in horror as a tear rolls on his cheek. You sit up, drying it with your thumb.

And you don’t care if it was too quick. Don’t care that there’s a high chance it won’t last. You still answer, “Yes, Kook. Yes we can.”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Let’s take a shower. I want to hold you tonight.”

You want to cry from the statement, want to tell him that you wish he could hold you forever, but the words get lodged in your throat. Instead, you follow him as he gets up, interlacing your fingers with his as he leads you to the bathroom, uncaring that his seed is rolling down your inner thighs.

He turns the shower on, and soon enough you’re standing under the hot water. He watches you carefully, presses a kiss on your forehead when you stand in front of him. You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him as close as you physically can. Even then it’s not enough – you want him under your skin, or to be under his.

You don’t think you’d survive being parted from him again. Maybe that’s why you let him fuck you again when you return to his room, slower this time, lips entwined in a never-ending embrace. Love flows between you and him, and it’s etched in the way your bodies move together, in the way you’ve been molded perfectly for him, and him for you.

You wonder if outside, the stars are shining. And you’re struck thinking that tonight, tonight they’ve aligned for you and him again, the universe agreeing for this second chance between you and him.

So you hold him close, and pray that this time around, forever is waiting for you.

Saturday, September 9th

Jungkook wakes up slowly. Softly, the same way waves hit the shore at low tide. He’s unusually warm, and he frowns as he shifts, trying to turn on his side. Then, he realizes his arm is stuck under something. His very dead arm, and he cracks an eye open.

That’s when he remembers that it’s you. You’re the one sleeping next to him, mouth slightly agape as you breathe softly. You’re also the one crushing his arm, and he tentatively clenches and unclenches his fist to try to get the blood circulation back on track. It doesn’t really work, so then he stops, figuring he’s going to have to make you move somehow.

But you look peaceful, in the light of the rising sun. Serene, like there’s never been anything wrong in this world. This morning, Jungkook wants to believe it. Wants to believe that happiness is all he’s ever known – that accidents, heartbreak and pain are all constructs of his imagination.

He’s too realistic for that. Or perhaps the breakup has made him pessimistic. Because the peace of the moment doesn’t really linger, and he’s stuck reliving the moment you left, that night in May. Stuck reliving the wait for you to come back, only you never did.

Or maybe you did, months later. Maybe you really are back, and this time you’ll stay.

You mumble something in your sleep, startling him. It takes him a few seconds to realize you’re still deep asleep, but when you move he quickly does too, pulling his arm from under your head. You frown, lick your lips, and then your features smooth out as you return to your peaceful slumber.

He turns on his side, watching you carefully. He’s aware that watching you sleep is creepy, but he can’t help it. Not when his bed has been empty for months.

He stays like this for a while, unable to fall back asleep. Because, what if you’re gone when he wakes up again? He doesn’t want to risk it.

Unable to help himself, he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. You sigh, and he’s afraid he’s woken you up. When a small smile appears on your lips, his heart skips a beat, yet you don’t show any other sign that you’re awake. He assumes you aren’t, and then decide to take a picture of this moment.

He feels like he’s going to need it. Like all the pictures he took yesterday – he was desperate to commit to memory as much of you as he possibly could. He feels bad – he said he’d give you a chance, he is giving you a chance, but some part of him is just waiting for it to blow up in his face.

Maybe if he expects it it will hurt less.

He carefully grabs his camera where he left it on his night table. He doesn’t dare take a look at the pictures you took yesterday, a little ashamed that he asked you to do that in the first place. Silently, he takes a picture of you, and then puts the camera away.

Only, the reminder of the kind of pictures he’d find in the camera was enough to make his blood stir, and he picks it back up almost immediately.

And then there you are, in all your glory. Beautiful as ever, pussy filled to the brim with his cum, with his cock. Tits squeezed in your hands, in his, and his dick goes rock hard as blood leaves his head.

He wants you again, and he wants you now. He doesn’t care that it’s early morning, that he never liked waking up early. All he can do is put the camera down and slide closer to you. He pulls you back into his embrace, and you sigh softly as he wraps his arms around you.

Jungkook holds you tighter, nuzzling his face in your hair. The inebriating scent of your shampoo fills his nose, and his dick twitches in his underwear.

You hum, and he holds you tighter. “Morning,” he says, voice low and gravelly.

You make another sound that can pass as a hum, but you move against him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his middle. There’s a moment where silence reigns again, and Jungkook is afraid you’ve fallen back asleep, but then you say, “Morning.”

He smiles. “Slept well?” he asks, kissing the top of your head.

He’s convinced you’re smiling against him as you say, “Want to sleep more.”

He whines, which earns him a chuckle from you that makes the wariness settle back in, even as his heart feels full in his chest.

It never felt full without you. Another reason why he needs to be ready for the blow, whenever it comes.

“I want you,” he admits. “Can’t sleep.”

You hum again, and your hand slides down his back. You squeeze his ass, and then move the hand back up. “You’re going to have to try.”

He whines, lips jutting out in a pout. “Boring.”

At that you laugh, pushing him slightly until you’re able to look him in the eye. He keeps the pout on, knowing that it always worked with you before.

“It’s not even morning,” you point out.

“The sun is up.”

You roll your eyes, though your lips are curved upwards, your gaze beaming as you hold his. “We fucked twice last night.”

He shrugs, rolling on his back so that he can stare up at the ceiling. He pulls at his piercing, the new one, and then turns his head towards you again. “Yeah, and?”

“Surely you don’t need to fuck right now,” you tease.

He frowns, looking away again. “Not my fault if I haven’t fucked since… May. Last weekend doesn’t count.”

“I’m pretty sure it does,” you say, laughing lightly. You prop yourself up on an elbow, blinking away the tiredness as you meet his gaze again. “And besides,” you pause, features turning confused as a crease appears between your brows. “Haven’t you fucked while we were…” you trail off, motioning vaguely around you.

And then something occurs to Jungkook. Something bad – maybe the explosion was closer than he expected it to be. Maybe he’s been standing in the radius of impact, waiting for the bomb to go off. And maybe your sleep deprived brain forgot the measure of protection, maybe it forgot he was standing there.

Because your eyes go round with fear, right as a drop of lead solidifies in Jungkook’s stomach.

“What?” he lets out.

What a stupid question to ask. He wants to beat himself up, because he knows.

He knows now that you’ve been with someone else. Why else would you be surprised that he hasn’t?

“I’m just saying…” you try, but it’s too late.

The bomb has gone off, and all that’s left is rumbles.

“Get out,” Jungkook says, and somehow it’s lacking bite. It’s lacking anger, lacking any signs that he cares for you.

It surprises even himself – doesn’t he care? Or is there nothing left of him in the aftermath of the explosion?

“Kook.”

“You’ve fucked someone else,” he states. When you don’t say anything, just watch him in horror, he sits up in bed. “Get out.”

“Come on,” you let out this time, following him up. You wrap yourself in the blanket, his blanket, and he wants to rip it from your body. Doesn’t want anything that’s his to be in contact with you anymore. “It didn’t mean anything,” you say, and you’re suddenly blinking back tears. “It was just one-time.”

“Frankly, I don’t want to know,” Jungkook says, and he really doesn’t. Doesn’t want to think about another man’s hand on you, or he’ll break.

He’s done breaking for you.

You don’t fight the tears, as you understand that the end really has come. At least that’s what he thinks happens – you just sit there, gaze heavy with tears until they fall, little droplets that carry a world of regret.

After all, the distance really was enough to break you up, wasn’t it?

Jungkook watches you, surprised that his heart is not clenching in his chest. No, he feels nothing as he watches you – he’s already cried enough for you.

“We were broken up,” you murmur, holding his gaze. “It’s not like I cheated.”

At that he laughs, shaking his head. If you can’t understand that he’s done, that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore, then he’ll do it the harsh way.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he says. “I couldn’t be with someone else. I tried, and you were all I could think of. And…”

“You tried!” you interject. “You tried and you’re giving me shit for it?”

He gets up, trying to put distance between you and him, as if that’ll make the fight easier.

“I still chose not to do it,” he coldly states. “The girl was willing, she even kissed me and…”

“You kissed someone else?”

He laughs again, the absurdity of the situation dawning upon him. “Yeah? Tae set me up on a date, and the girl kissed me at the end and I told her I couldn’t. I didn’t fuck someone else.”

The way he’s throwing the blame at you feels selfish, especially as more tears join those already sliding down your cheeks.

“How is that fair, that you’re mad at me when you literally went on a date with someone else?” You pause, choking on a sob as you try to dry your cheeks. “Come on, Kook, it meant nothing.”

“Who did you fuck anyway?” he asks.

For a reason unknown, your tears stop. Entirely, there a moment and gone the next. “Why do you want to know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t fucking want to know, and he scoffs as he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. “Get out,” he says again, still as stern and void of emotion.

“It was Harrison,” you still say. “I switched departments because I didn’t want to see him again after that.”

Now, there’s an inkling of pain tickling the carcass of his dead heart. As if there was still more, for him to feel, even after everything. As if pain is but a constant of his life now, and he thinks maybe it is.

“Your colleague?” he repeats, dumbfounded.

He’s met Harrison a couple of times, throughout your relationship. He’s always thought the guy was decent, but now something very ugly settles deep in his core. Something that tells him, ‘Hey, maybe he’s only ever wanted to fuck her, maybe he was waiting for his chance’.

The words are on a loop in his head, and he doesn’t even think he can see you anymore. All that he sees is Harrison with his hands on you, in his ever-too creative mind.

He startles as you put a hand on his arm. He shrugs your grip off, steps away from you. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Kook, I swear, please listen to me,” you beg, and now you’re crying again.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to.” At that he shuts his eyes, runs a hand on his forehead and then through his hair. “I really don’t want to. I don’t want you to be here anymore.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” you say, an echo of something you said earlier. Though this time you say it differently, as if you too sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever want you to be around anymore. He was stupid to give you a chance after you broke his heart – you chose to break up, months ago. Why would it be different this time around?

“It doesn’t matter,” he tells you, as softly as he can. Because he knows you’ll break even more, and some dark, twisted part of him is satisfied that this time, this time he’s the one with all the power over you. “I’m done, Y/n.”

The words sound like thunder, in all their calmness. In all their softness – or maybe that was the sound of your heart breaking. Whatever it was, Jungkook really is done. He wants you gone, wants to be able to break in the quiet peace of his home.

A home you aren’t a part of anymore.

You nod. He expects you to fight more, but you nod. Choke out a sob, turn around, and start putting your clothes on. He figures he should dress too, so he does, picking up discarded items of clothing on the floor, not caring that they probably aren’t clean. All that he cares about is to get you out of his apartment, out of his sight.

And when you’re ready, he walks you to the front door. Lets you say goodbye to Bam, a crushing parallel to the time you’ve said goodbye in May. Bam still looks confused, and Jungkook feels bad, for a moment. Because you were the dog’s mother – he’s been looking for you ever since May. Jungkook can only hope that, this time around, Bam understands that it’s farewell.

When you straighten, you mutter an apology. Jungkook ignores it, holds your gaze expecting something to hurt, but he’s just empty. Empty and tired, and all he wants is to go back to sleep and to never wake up again.

“I can’t let you go,” you let out, voice stark with pain.

He shrugs. “You should have realized that in May.”

You close your eyes, and you look so fragile. Like glass – it never survives the shockwave of an explosion, doesn’t it?

“Please,” you beg. “Let me make it up to you.”

He laughs bitterly. “How? You’re going to go back in time and not get fucked by him? You’re going to go back in time and not break up?”

You look like you want to curse him, and he almost wants you to. He wants you to fight, wants you to make him feel something other than this emptiness. Instead, you shake even more, sobs racking through you.

“I wish I could.”

“Leave.”

“Jungkook, I swear,” you insist. “Let’s not lose each other over this.”

He wets his lips, tongue pushing in the inside of his cheek next. “We’ve lost each other already. It’s time we realize that we have.”

And that does it. You fall silent, defeat washing over you like a tsunami wave – there’s nothing left after its passage, and you look tired, sick, standing there right next to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize again.

He shrugs. “It’s whatever. The past is the past.”

You look like you want to say something else, but somehow you remain silent. Somehow you look at him for a time, bloodshot eyes taking in his features as if it’s the last time you’ll ever see him again. He surprises himself by doing it too, mostly by instinct. Because right now, looking at you makes him want to be sick, but he knows that it won’t last.

He knows that the echo of pain in the distance is a good indicator that he still has it in him to break for you. That he’ll break for you forever, perhaps. Because he doesn’t think that there’s an end to you and him. It’s always going to be a cycle, and it’ll never end well.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you murmur.

He offers you a tight-lipped smile. “Goodbye.”

All he can do is hope you know it means farewell.

Thursday, October 5th

You used to love fall. The cooler weather, the long walks that smell like soil and fallen leaves and pumpkins. Nowadays, you hate fall.

You hate it because he loved it, and every reminder of him is poison to you. And though the season is still early, the days are getting shorter, and the longer the night, the more you drown in thoughts.

You haven’t slept in weeks. Have barely eaten too, and you’ve been off from work for a week. It’s allowed you to stay in, to just sit and try to breathe, hoping that it’ll help.

That it’ll fix something that’s never going to be fixed.

You’re lost. Lost in a town that used to be your home, lost in memories that used to be beauty brought to life – now, you’re seeing the ugliness in beauty. Because beauty is temporary, and like all temporary things in life it doesn’t last long enough. Beauty, and the ending temporality of it, leaves nothing when it goes but a bitter taste in mouth.

Perhaps that’s why you haven’t been able to eat properly.

You haven’t spoken to anyone, since the early morning he asked you to leave. Yet for some reason, you’ve felt the need to go outside today. To walk around, aimlessly perhaps, but you couldn’t stay inside a second longer. Too many tears were shed in your apartment, and you hoped the cool weather would help you feel better.

It does, a little. Because you feel like you’re breathing him in every time you inhale, and then carry him out on an exhale. You feel close to him, in a distant way that’s bound to only make you break harder tonight, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. You do hate the reminders of him, but you need them. Viscerally, as he was the oxygen in your lungs for so long.

You’re going to have to learn how to live without him, one step at a time.

So you take another step, let your instinct carry you where you have to go. Maybe it knows how to heal.

The sun is descending in the sky, and the absence of clouds lead to a sea of azure you’d swim in if you could. You’d soar up high, so high that there isn’t oxygen anymore, and maybe then the pain would cease. You’d ride a sunray into the night, where you’d finally be able to fall into a well-deserved slumber.

As you look up, a tiny bird flies across the sky, a small speck of brown that goes so fast you think you imagine it. Like the years with him – they went by so quickly, the crushing wheel of time spinning down the slope towards the end.

Seven years ago, almost to the day, you kissed him on a hotel roof lost in Chicago, under clouds painted with fire. Who knew seven years later you’d be trying to live without him, clearly failing at it.

You sigh, pushing the thought away as you reach a crossing. You wait for the light to turn green, then follow the parallel white lines across the road. You avoid a pile of leaves, though a strong gust of wind makes some of them swirl around you, spinning like Mother Nature’s tiny dancers.

The foliage in the trees along the street is golden and red, bright colours that look out of place in the bleakness of your heart. You follow them, wonder if they know that they are about to die. The answer is one you’ll never have, and so you walk under the trees, the autumn breeze playing with your hair.

You don’t know where your steps have been carrying you. You’ve long gone past the places you usually go to, heading towards the middle of the city. The no man’s land between you and Jungkook, spread wide in a maze of streets you want to get lost in.

So you do. You press on, walk until the sun becomes a ball of melted gold nearing the horizon, and it’s on the corner of a street that a glint in a vitrine catches your eyes.

You eye the rings, crafted by an expert hand. Bands of gold, with diamonds and emeralds and gems you don’t know the name of. They look expensive, elegant, and you wonder if you would have had a ring on your finger one day, bought by him.

Recklessly, you walk into the shop, wishing to peruse its vitrines, hoping they’ll offer you dreams to survive the night. And you can almost see it – a ring on your finger, a proposal under a star-sprinkled sky, an intimate wedding for you and him. A dance, always and forever, of love shared like a secret in the night. Your secret, as the end would have one day come for you and him, an eternity of life later. You would have been old and grey, yet your love would have been young and eternal.

In this dream, he would have never taken the job overseas. You’d have stayed here, together, growing old by his side. You would have gotten more dogs, maybe even a cat, and you’d have lived happily ever after.

You wonder if, in a parallel universe to yours, the dream is unfolding. If parallel-universe you has the chance to experience it, and you think she does. You think she does, and the love is so strong it’s shaking through universes, picking you up like you’re just a leaf in an autumn wind.

Because why else, then, do you find yourself buying a gold band? Too big for you, masculine in its simplicity. Something you think he would have worn, had you been in that other universe.

You sit on a bench outside, after, as the last of the sunlight finally fades away, replaced by a blue dusk that matches your mood far better than the sun ever could. You have no idea where you are in the city, no will to brave the trek back home – you’ve been out for hours at this point.

You grab your phone, long forgotten in your purse. You haven’t touched it all day, and to your surprise you’ve received a couple of texts while you were walking, all by the same person.

[04:37 pm] Jimin: hey, this is going to sound crazy [04:37 pm] Jimin: and I’m really sorry to be telling u this [04:37 pm] Jimin: can u go check on JK? [04:38 pm] Jimin: he’s been unreachable for days and at this point I think he’ll only talk to u

You want to text him back to fuck off, to leave you alone, yet you hold on tighter to the velvety box in which the gold band hides. After all, even if you’ve received the texts hours ago, you’re realizing perhaps that that’s where your steps have been leading you anyway.

It’s stupid – he asked you to leave. Hasn’t contacted you once since then, and it’s like the wedding and the week after never happened. Like you’ve been broken up for months, like you barely know him anymore. He’s a stranger now, in your life, something you’d never thought he’d become someday.

And why would he talk to you? Why would he want you in his vicinity, when he made it clear as spring water that he was done, that the end had come to pass between you and him?

But if the end has come, why is that you’ve been feeling like you’re surrounded by him, today? Like you’ll always be – just a drop of water in the sea of him. Perhaps you are weak, to feel for him the way that you do, but seven years ago, the cataclysm that started you and him shook you, and its repercussions are still felt today. Will be felt until your dying breath, until all that’s left of you is stardust.

So you let your feet carry you, weightless in the way that you’re moving forward. Like you are once again but a leaf carried by the wind, and you can only hope that it’ll let you land in the right place.

You don’t really know how you make it to his building. Perhaps you were closer than you initially thought you were – all that you know is that you recognize the building, and that you sense his proximity through the walls.

Your heart reaches for him, longs for him in a way you can’t ignore anymore. Because you’ve been dead, without him. Just a shell of what you should be, of what you want to be. Because yes, you could learn to live without him. After everything that you’ve been through, you know well enough that you are strong enough to do it.

But you don’t want it. You want that dream you’ve found in the jewelry shop, want to make it possible. Want to prove that, no matter who would ever get close to you, he’ll always be the owner of your heart.

So you walk in. Reach the elevator, press on the call button. Then on the fourth floor, reminiscing the night you rode the elevator in his company, right before the fall. The new fall, a harshest one that made you reach those low levels of hell that living without him are consisted of.

You awaken when you are standing in front of his door. You think you can almost hear him inside, moving around through his home. You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat, where you’re standing. If he too can tell that you’re nearby once again, even though you shouldn’t have been.

Even though farewells have come to pass between you and him.

You don’t knock. You don’t have to. To your surprise, the door opens in front of you, slowly, before you’ve even managed to raise your arm to knock. Then his voice fills your ear, as he tells Bam to wait. You just stand there, dumbfounded, and then his eyes move from the floor to your face, and his mouth falls open.

Bam jumps on you, tail wagging wildly as you take a step back from the force of impact. You pet him on the head, pushing him back to the floor as you try to focus on Jungkook.

And then it dawns upon you that you have no clue what to tell him. You reckon you maybe should have prepared something in advance, because you’re wordless standing in front of him.

“Hey,” you eventually say, and you think the world has time to revolve around the sun three times before you manage to say something else. “How are you?”

His mouth slowly shuts, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He pulls on Bam’s leash, tells the dog to sit, before he finally addresses you. Just your name, and the way he says it make it sound formal, like you’re just a stranger.

“What are you doing here?” he asks after another moment.

You look down at your hands. At the box you’re holding, and his eyes follow after you. “I was thinking of you, today,” you admit.

He sighs, and his eyes shut. “You were?”

You nod as he meets your gaze again. “When am I not?” Your comment doesn’t ask for a response, and he doesn’t offer you one either. “Jimin told me you’ve been unreachable.”

“Yeah,” he lets out. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh.” You try to look behind him, as if you’ll find his reason to be busy there. “Can I talk to you?”

He says your name, this time like an apology. “I told you we were done.”

You shrug. “I know.” You gulp, fingers playing with the velvet box as if it’ll help ground you. “Can I walk Bam with you, then?”

He looks conflicted but he gives in. Says yes in a defeated way that rips your heart from your chest, in a way that makes you cling to the ring box even more, hoping that it’ll offer you salvation.

Being outside in the early fall evening with him feels like the Earth has finally returned to its normal axis. You don’t say anything, unable to find the words, and he remains silent too. You just enjoy his company, watching over Bam as he sniffs at plants before peeing on a pole.

Stars are twinkling in the sky up above. The breeze is still soft tonight, caressing your features in a gentle embrace that resembles the one he’d used to offer you, though it’s far colder than his. You spare a glance at him – he’s already looking, and he doesn’t look away as your gazes connect.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again.

You wet your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“How is that an explanation?” A shrug of your shoulders is all the answer he gets. He scoffs, shakes his head slightly, and then his head turns toward the door of his building. “I have hot chocolate inside,” he tells you, once again sounding defeated. “Do you want a cup?”

Turns out salvation wasn’t to be found in the velvet box you’re holding, but in the gentle angles of Jungkook’s features, behind his big doe eyes that will forever feel like home to you.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you tell him, voice soft. “I just wanted to… talk.”

“Then let’s talk over a cup of hot chocolate,” he says.

Which is what you do. You follow him in, feeling like you’re out of place in his life. Like he’s only giving this to you because of what you used to be to one another. Yet you don’t care. You’re slowly finding words, your brain shaping them into sentences to change an ending you can’t come to terms with.

Jungkook prepares the hot chocolate in silence, as you sit at his small dinner table. You play with Bam as he does so, a game of tug-of-war that you’re bound to lose as the dog is far stronger than you. Yet you still indulge, as you’ve missed Bam far more than you even thought possible.

The game is only interrupted when Jungkook rests a cup of steaming hot chocolate on the table next to you. You let Bam go, and the dog trots away to go play somewhere else, you can only assume.

“What did you want to talk about?”

You’ve left the ring box on the table. You’ve noticed Jungkook glancing at it repeatedly since you’ve put it there, and you worry at your bottom lip.

“I wanted to apologize again, for what it’s worth,” you answer. “I felt horrible when it happened, and just wanted to forget all about it.”

His features turn harsh, and his eyes drop into the cup of hot chocolate he’s nursing for himself. It reminds you of a café, of a conversation you had years ago, that led to you opening up to him, and to him opening up to you.

“I love you,” you continue. “I haven’t stopped loving you, and if I’d known that breaking up would hurt so much, I would’ve fought harder. I wish I had, and I wish I’d never let you go.”

“But you did…” he says when you remain silent for a few seconds.

“But I did. And I understand if you hate me for it. If you don’t want to ever see me again. But shit, you’re the only thing that I’ve been able to think about. Just you, and everything that could have been, had I been stronger.”

You grab the cup of hot chocolate, the warmth of it slowly seeping through your cold fingers. For the next few minutes, you don’t say anything, and neither does he. You just drink the hot chocolate, hoping you’ll find more words to say at the bottom of the cup.

“The distance was hard,” Jungkook eventually says. “I don’t blame you for wanting to end things over it.”

It surprises you. Makes your brain go entirely empty, and you just watch him with wide eyes for a few seconds.

He shrugs as you don’t say anything. “What?” He looks down, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. “I’ve been thinking about everything too.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I over-reacted, when you told me you had sex with Harrison,” he admits.

Totally not expecting the conversation to take this turn, you’re stunned silent.

“I was shocked, and needed time to process,” he continues. “You were right, the fact that I went on a full-on date is just as bad, differently. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything.”

As much as it pains you to agree, you still do, nodding your head. “We didn’t.”

He purses his lips, holds your gaze for a few seconds before glancing down at his cup. The silence is more comfortable now, as you think maybe, maybe then the dream you’ve dreamed about isn’t just a distant mirage of what could have once been. It’s foolish, but you can’t help it.

You think your heart is beating for the first time since you left that morning weeks ago.

“Did you want to speak about anything else?” he asks after he’s taken a long sip of his hot chocolate.

You take a deep breath, and somehow courage finds you on the long exhale. “I don’t want us to be over.”

You think you hear him gulp. “You don’t?”

Blinking away a few tears, you shake your head no. “I really don’t. I walked around all day today, and all I could think about was you. All I could think of was all the years between us, from when we met to a few weeks ago. And I don’t know, I refuse to accept that the end has come.”

“When does it come, then?” he asks.

“When the end comes?”

He nods.

“After years and years,” you say, allowing yourself to voice your dream. “Hopefully after we’ve had years to live together. After we’ve gotten married, and maybe even after we’ve had kids. Not that I want some.” You pause, and you look down at the table, unable to carry the weight of his gaze anymore. “Or maybe after we’ve had plenty of dogs, a cat or two. After we’ve had a house with a white picket fence, after we’ve danced under a thousand different night skies.” A tear rolls on your cheek, and you do nothing to stop it. “After we’ve travelled the world together, after we’ve had a chance to live, together.”

“And what happens after we’ve lived together?” he presses.

You shrug. “Then we die together. Then we turn into stardust and memories. I don’t care. As long as it’s with you, I don’t care what happens to me.”

Blurry behind the wall of tears in your eyes, you see Jungkook run a hand through his hair. “You don’t?”

“I don’t,” you echo. “I just want to get to love you.”

At that you do cry. And not just a little bit. Your heart longs and yearns for him, reaching in the space between you, trying to find a beat to sync with. You wipe your cheeks dry with trembling hands, before pressing the heel of your palms on your eyes, hoping to stop the cascade at the source.

“It’s a nice dream,” Jungkook says after the few minutes it takes you to collect yourself, your hands falling to the table.

“Is it?”

He nods. “Yeah. I don’t think we’d do a white picket fence though. I’ve always found cedar trees make a better fence.”

Something stirs inside of you, and you want to take a hold of him, and to never let go. “Yeah?”

He sits back in the chair, looks up to the ceiling as he blinks away the silver in his own gaze. You wonder if he’s crying because he saw you cry, as the sympathetic crier that he is, or because he shares the emotions in your heart.

“Where would you want to get married?” he asks then.

You push the velvet box towards him. “This is for you.”

He doesn’t acknowledge this, instead repeating the question.

“Somewhere in the countryside,” you answer. “Maybe the cottage where it all started.” You think about Julys of a world ago. “Under the night sky.”

“People don’t usually get married when it’s already dark.”

“Right,” you let out. “Then we’d have a ceremony for just us two when it’s dark outside.”

At that he grabs the box, opening it. You reckon he must have known what the content was, because he doesn’t say anything as he takes it out. As he tries to put it on his finger, though it doesn’t fit. It’s too tight, and it makes him chuckle, a sad sound that almost kills you on the spot.

“Do you think we’d dance under the stars?” he asks as he turns the gold band in his fingers, and light glimmers on it.

“Yes,” you say, nodding your head. “We always would.”

“So you came all the way here to tell me this?”

He meets your gaze again, for the first time in a while. He looks struck with emotion, much like you feel – the depths of his eyes are swirling with love and ache and yearning. You fall forward, fall in his eyes, trying to find home again.

“I came here to ask you to marry me,” you finally say, as it dawns upon you that, yes, your steps were leading you to this all along. “Jungkook, will you marry me?”

He smiles, a world of sadness etched in the sweet curve of his lips. “Can it be this easy?”

You shut your eyes. “It can. Please. Let’s not lose what we have again.”

“When would you like to get married?” he asks.

“Are you saying yes?”

He plays with his piercing, takes a deep breath as he chases tears away from his gaze but to no avail. You watch the two drops as they slowly roll down his face. “When would you like to get married?”

“In July,” you answer easily.

“Next year?”

You nod.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds more, then looks at the gold band again. His fist closes around it, slowly, as if he’ll be able to crush it in his hold. For what you don’t know. All that you know is that his features grow tortured, pained. It doesn’t last long – another deep breath later the expression is gone.

“I need to tell you something,” he says then, his voice so small you can barely hear it.

You prepare yourself. As well as you can, expecting the blow before it comes. You sense it – in the eternity it takes for him to speak again, you see every moment of you and him before this day, your life flashing before your eyes as if you’re about to die.

And then he says it a first time. At first you don’t even understand the words, as if he’s speaking a foreign language. So you let out, “What?”, hoping that it will change the cruelty that this world holds.

But nothing can, after the end has come. Nothing, especially not as he repeats the words, softly, their meaning tainting the dream you’ve just painted with him, until all that’s left of it is a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I’m permanently moving to South Korea.”

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I'm sorry for the angst, for the cliffhanger, for them to be so stubborn and for how life is working against them now. I hope you don't hate me too much after this :') let me know what you think of this chapter!

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when the end comes ch 4 when the end comes jungkook smut jungkook my bb ella

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jessikahathaway

2 years ago

YALL ITS HERE!! When I tell you Ella brought me to tears I’m not kidding-this couple is *chefs kiss*. Please give her lots of love on this chapter~

When the End Comes | ch 5 (jjk)

☆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: curses, mention of alcohol, a lot of sappiness, mention of Jungkook's injury, explicit content: hickey, grinding, jealous!Jungkook (yes it is explicit content), breast play, praise, unprotected sex (don't be stupid), clit play, hair pulling, rough sex, degradation, ass slapping, oral sex (male receiving), deep throating, jerking off, balls sucking, videocall sex, sex toy (vibrator), mention of anal plug, female and male masturbation, brat!Jungkook (ish?)

☆word count: 15.8k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Last one, and finally we are arriving at the end of the angst with a big A. I hope this one heals each and everyone of you <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 with this project, you are amazinnng

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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

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Thursday, October 5th

“I’m permanently moving to South Korea.”

Jungkook’s words echo in your mind, repeatedly. As if your mind is but an empty cavern, and he screamed them at the top of his lungs. You watch him, telling yourself that it’s a joke. That he cannot be serious, that you can’t let him go again.

But you will have to, won’t you?

For a moment, you want to go back to the night you met Jungkook. The very first night, when you were just a teenage girl joining a dance crew because her best friend suggested it. The moment you’d seen Jungkook and his then insufferable big eyes, accompanied by a shy smile that soon turned into a mocking smirk, you’d hated him.

You wish you could go back then and tell yourself to run. To run before feelings for him arose in you, before you became a part of him the same way that he became part of you. And you’re struck – for years, you had all of him. Then after the breakup there was nothing, and then some. And now, now to think that he would just become a Jungkook-shaped hole in your life? An ever-lingering ghost, something forever out of reach but always hiding in your heart?

You aren’t sure you’d survive that. And though things haven’t been what they used to be even as you reconnected with him a few weeks ago, you can’t let him go. Yet you wonder, was Jungkook just a mistake in your life, this time around?

Was going back to him a mistake?

From the darkest corners of your heart, an answer arises. It sings from where it hides, speaks to him. And you hope he can hear. You hope he can hear the voice as it begs him, begs him to be your mistake this time around, and for the rest of your life too. Because, what is life if not a series of mistakes?

If he can be the series of yours, then you’ll die a happy woman.

Just like that conviction fills every inch of your soul. It’s calm yet firm, and it overtakes the pain. Fills your brain with thoughts, with plans and ideas as to what you can do. Only one thing seems possible – one outcome for you and him. An outcome of an eternity of you by his side, and him by your side. So you voice it, you tell him, with that gentle conviction that’s taken over you.

“I’ll move with you.”

His eyes widen, as if he didn’t think that a possibility. His mouth falls open, ever so slightly, pink lips parted as he searches for words. He searches for them in your eyes, clearly trying to see if you’re being serious. If, after everything, the stars told the story of you that July night years ago, a story that will never end.

“How?” he lets out, with a tiny vulnerable voice.

You shrug. “We’ll figure it out. I can find a job at the American embassy.” You nod, wetting your lips as your eyes glaze over with tears. “Fuck, I’d even get a master’s degree at the University of Seoul if that allows me to work in a firm over there.”

He murmurs your name, like he too knows that the suffering is finally coming to an end.

“I promise,” you answer. “I promise we’ll find a way. I won’t let you go again.”

A tear rolls on his cheek, lonely for a second before a few others meet it on their way down his face. “Please don’t ever let me go again.”

And just like that you’re getting up from your spot at his small kitchen table, walking around it with a quiet determination that, every path in your life always led to him. None could have put you astray, because he’s the answer. He’s the answer to all the questions you’ve ever had.

“Kook,” you breathe out as he welcomes you in his embrace. Pulls you on his lap, and he hides his face in your neck. His warm breath tickles your skin as your hands get lost in his hair, before your arms wrap around his head to hold him tightly against you. “I promise,” you repeat.

“I can’t lose you again,” he says, and he’s suddenly shaking.

You shake with him, as winter ends and is replaced by spring. You can see the first flowers blooming through the thin blanket of the snow leftovers. They blossom for you and him, a proof that you were always going to make it.

After winter, spring comes. It sweeps in slowly, softly, on a warm breeze that runs gentle hands on people’s face, telling them that they survived. You survived, and with him by your side, you reckon you’ll always survive.

“I love you so much,” you tell him. An intimate sentence, meant only for him to hear, that makes your heart feel full of him.

He nods. “I love you too.” His grip around you tightens, so much so you think he’ll crush you. You don’t even care – you think that would be a good way to go. “I love you so fucking much.”

You laugh. It bubbles from the most unexpected places, and grows tenfold as Jungkook repeats the words, laughing along with you.

“You’re mine,” he says at the end.

You pull away, gently tapping his shoulder. “Hey, I’m no one’s property.”

He pouts, big doe eyes still shining with tears. His button nose is red, and the quiver in his lips makes you come undone, your heart crashing into his, syncing until all they know is the same melody. “You’re mine,” he repeats, softer this time.

“I’m yours,” you agree, because frankly you really are. “And you’re mine.”

The smile that takes over his features is entirely worth it. You think it holds all the light in the galaxy. “I sure am.”

And then he’s kissing you. It tastes of tears and of heartbreak and longing, and mostly it’s healing. It’s you and him finally making it, it’s the knowledge that the pain is finally over for the two of you.

You survived, and with him by your side, you’ll always survive,

The kiss is slow, sweet. It holds so much love you think you’ll drown in it, and you lose your hands in his hair. His rest flatly on the small of your back, and his thumbs rub soothing lines over your shirt. You tilt your head, and he sighs as his tongue swipes out at your bottom lip.

You let out a breathy sound that makes his thumbs still on your back.

“Fuck,” he whispers against you. “Baby…”

It’s a plea if you’ve ever seen one, and your mouth crashes on his, unforgivingly. There’s no room for air in that kiss – you’ve had plenty of air in the last few weeks. All that you want right now is him, in all the ways that you can have him. You want to feel his skin against yours, to know you’re going to be feeling him again and again.

Forever. You were always made of forever anyway, weren’t you?

Jungkook shifts, and you feel the start of his erection as you suck on his tongue. He hisses, pulls away for just a second before he’s littering wet kisses along your jaw. You didn’t expect him to be ready to go so quickly, yet you still moan softly, pushing your hair over your shoulder to give him access to your neck. He’s quick to suck on your skin, gently, not hard enough to leave a hickey, but hard enough to have your insides go molten for him, the same way that they always have.

It’s desperate. Maybe this moment is desperate, made of the terror these last few weeks held. Maybe it’s made of the weeks spent apart, and of those thinking you’d lost him, after having him again for such a short time. It’s so desperate you think you’ll combust.

And you know he’ll burn with you. The brightest pyre, bright enough to light up a thousand worlds. Your own star, blazing longingly in your chest the same way that it burns in his. The fusion of what makes him him, and you you – it’s so bright you reckon you’ll be blinded by the end of the night.

But you don’t care. You’ve stopped caring the moment you decided you’ll go with him. Yes, it’ll be hard, but he’s worth it.

He’s so fucking worth it.

“Kook,” you breathe out as he lets go of your neck, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. His gaze is swimming with the same emotions as yours, and you dive in. You want to get lost in him tonight, until you don’t know what’s you and what’s him.

“You and me in Korea, uh?” he answers.

You laugh lightly, nodding your head. “You and me in Korea.” You wet your lips, before pulling at some dry skin. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to go.”

It isn’t even doubt. Just a statement, and he shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll be waiting for you. However long it takes.”

That makes your heart squeeze in your chest somehow. “When are you going?”

One of his hands moves from your back to your cheek. It gently holds you in place, before he presses the softest kiss on your lips. It’s void of the lust that was there a moment ago, yet feels so much more. It feels complete.

“I’m leaving in November,” he admits. “But I’ll call you every day. I’ll call you so much I’ll get on your nerves.”

You don’t know what to answer, as a familiar fear settles in you. It isn’t as strong as it was then, but it’s present nonetheless. He notices it, and he kisses you again.

And another time when you make to pull away, until you’ve melted into his embrace.

“I promise,” he says after that. “I promise I’ll call. This time we’ll make it through.” He pecks your nose, as a smile grows on your lips. You can’t help it – he fills you with so much love after all. “It’s going to be weird with the time zones but we’ll talk every day.”

“Will we now?”

He nods. “Yeah. We’ll talk so much you’ll get bored of my voice.

You playfully roll your eyes, pecking his lips once. “I’d never get tired of your voice. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his features turn serious, and he observes you carefully. He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, and then gently grazes your cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “How?”

You can’t help the blush taking over your cheeks. Because, even after all the years, having Jungkook looking at you this way will always make you feel as if you aren’t enough. It’s lingering insecurities, perhaps, because he’s proven you countless times that you’re plenty enough for him.

“I eat my veggies,” you deadpan, finding courage to overcome the insecurities in the depths of his eyes.

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “You’re stupid.”

“Hey!”

“And I love you so fucking much,” he says ignoring your outburst.

When he kisses you this time, you know exactly where it’s going to lead. There’s no way to ignore the growing bulge on which you’re perched, especially not as he grunts, grinding his hips up into you.

You moan against his lips, and one of his hands finds your hair. Grip the back of your head, forces your head away until he’s bent down and sucked a deep purple mark on your skin, just over the neck of your shirt.

If one day you knew how to speak, you sure don’t now. All you know is him, and you crash your mouth against his, not caring that your teeth clash. You roll your hips, grind on him, searching for the delicious friction only he can provide.

And he does. He provides, fucking up into you, though fabric separates you from him, and him from you. He seems to realize it quite at the same time that you do, because he pulls away from the kiss, just long enough to take your shirt off. You expect him to come back to your lips right away, but he freezes, head tilting to the side as he pulls on his piercing.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praises. “Every time, baby. Every time you’re just fucking hotter.”

You gulp, mouth slightly agape. He smirks, and then chuckles darkly.

He knows the effect that he has on you.

“You know what I’m going to do tonight?” he asks, features falling serious as his lustful gaze burns in yours. You shake your head no, afraid of what’d you say if you could speak. “I’m going to make you forget that dickhead ever laid a finger on you, mmh?”

And you know he will. If the way that he kisses you next as if trying to put a brand on you isn’t enough of an explanation, the way he rips your bra when he tries to unclasp it is.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologizes, breaking out of character for half a second before he wets his lips and adds, “I’ll buy you a new one.”

He cups your breasts, massaging them lightly as he leans back in the chair, taking a good look at you. It makes you feel as if he’s about to devour you, as if you’re not the one on top of him.

As if you can’t take control if you want. Not that you think you would – your legs feel like jelly the more he touches you, and you just want to feel all of him.

Jungkook pinches your nipples, a satisfied smile growing on his lips as you whimper. “Good girl, mmh? You’ll be my good fucking girl tonight?”

Feeling bold, you answer, “Every fucking night, Kook.”

He grabs your jaw, pulling you closer to him so that he can kiss you again. “Damn right,” he whispers against you after.

And then it’s a mess of lips and hands and clothing until you’re both entirely naked, still sitting on his kitchen chair. He’s hard like a rod, and you’re dripping wet – you know you don’t need any foreplay to take him in. So you sink on his dick, wincing slightly as the stretch burns. He holds you close until he’s fully embedded in you, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

Your wrap an arm around his neck, your other hand gripping at the jet black strand of hair as you start fucking yourself on him, slowly.

“Baby,” he whispers. “I want to be the one fucking you.”

“But I’m so wet for you,” you say, voice whiny as you start going faster.

Jungkook throws his head back, resting it on the back of the chair as you find a rhythm you know will drive him insane. So you lean forward, sucking on his Adam’s apple as you ride him, trying to remind him that, yes, he’s the only one you can think of.

He grabs onto your hips, makes you move faster as you bounce up and down, your pussy juice coating his dick. You moan his name as your walls clench around him, and he grunts, thrusting up.

He hits your cervix, and you let out a broken sound as you fall forward, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks, running a hand on your back.

You nod against him. “Yeah.” You kiss his skin, and then pull at it with your teeth. Not quite biting, and clearly not hard enough to hurt, but it still spurs him into action, and he starts fucking you, far quicker than what you were doing.

Because he knows you like quick. Especially as he manages to get a hand between you and him, and he finds your clit after a few seconds. He rubs soft circles on it, and you moan as you roll your hips, seeking for more friction.

“Already?” he says, surprised.

You nod once more. “I think I’m going to come.”

It surprises both him and you, especially as he groans and murmurs your name, and a litany of curses falls from his mouth the moment your walls start spasming around his dick, your orgasm hitting you there in the middle of his kitchen.

He rides you through your high, making sure he’s milked every last drop of it before he pulls on your hair, just enough so that he can see your face.

“Can we move to the bedroom?” he asks then.

“Don’t you want to fuck me on the table?” you answer, wicked smile moving on your lips even through the blissed-out expression your orgasm is sure to have given you.

He steals a kiss on your lips, sucking on the bottom one until you’re hissing in pain. “Baby, I’ll fuck you on every surface of this apartment. I want it to smell like you.”

You suck on his piercings, flicking them with your tongue. “Well, better get started then.”

So you do. He makes you stand up, and he follows you up to lock your lips in a ravishing kiss that leaves you breathless. After that, he bends you over on the table, and he fucks you from behind, holding your face in place against the table. All you can see is his cup of hot chocolate, long forgotten by then, and the liquid that sloshes around, splashing on the table with every swipe of his hips.

Right when you think you’re going to come again, Jungkook grabs the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to straighten. The angle makes him hit a whole new spot, and you moan loudly.

It breaks in a whimper as Jungkook says, “You’re such a fucking slut.”

And then you’re coming. Legs shaking so much he has to hold you up, and he stills inside of you, knowing that you’re probably going to be oversensitive from the two orgasms. He lets you come down from your high, his dick still embedded deep inside of you, and then he pulls out, slapping your ass gently.

“Now, let’s go to the bed,” he says.

You turn around, dropping to your knees. He widens his eyes, but you suck on his tip before he has a chance to say anything else. And you suck him dry, tasting all of yourself on him. He’s a panting mess as you take him all the way, throat muscles working around the head of his cock. You pull away, just enough to move to his balls instead, and you suck on one as you jerk him off quickly, looking up at him.

He’s got his head thrown back, and he curses loudly before looking down at you.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, and it’s lacking the lust that there was before.

There’s just love, and somehow it makes sense. Because it’ll always make sense when it comes to him.

You sit back on your heels, as you keep stroking his dick. “Shit, Kook,” you purr. “You’re so fucking hard.”

He holds your gaze, his pretty swollen lips glistening with a mix of your spit and his from the kiss earlier. “I just missed you so much.”

That makes you stop, even though you’ve barely started sucking his dick. Instead, you get up to pull him down in another kiss. This one is slow and sweet, and you think you hear the stars sighing in relief outside.

Finally, everything has been set right with the world. With your world, your own little universe.

After that, Jungkook brings you to his room. He shuts the door behind him, even though Bam has been sleeping the whole time, claiming that he doesn’t want any interruptions. And then he lies you down on his bed, the purple LED lights shining softly on you and him. They make him look ethereal, as they always have, and the next kiss you exchange is languid, filled with so much love you think you’re going to forget the pain in its entirety.

All that you’ll remember is that, at the end of the day, he’s still holding you. He’s still slowly fucking into you, hips keeping a constant rhythm as your legs wrap around his waist, holding him close to you. He feels heavenly – he is heavenly – and you can’t wait for you both to be in Seoul.

Because then you won’t have any reason to be apart anymore.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you too, Kook.”

You feel him smile against you, and then he picks up his pace, right as it grows unfocused. He stills when his dick starts twitching, moaning softly, and you hold him impossibly closer as his cum fills you up, warming up your cunt.

Even after he’s done you still hold him, as he holds you too. You both don’t want to let go, and frankly you don’t think you have to. You could fall asleep in his embrace, and you know he would too. Because after all, home is the safest place on Earth, isn’t it?

His arms will forever be home to you. You hope he knows it, and knows that your heart will forever be home to him. That no matter the heartbreak, you still love him just as much. You even think you love him more – now you know just how much he matters.

And he matters, so so much. More than the air in your lungs, Jungkook matters. So you whisper it to him, later that night, after he’s made love to you again. You tell him about the love in your heart, hoping it’ll ease the pain of the breakup. Hoping it’ll prove him that this time around, nothing will break you.

After all, your fate was decided years ago, when you danced under a blanket of twinkling constellations.

Tuesday, April 16th

Jungkook looks over Seoul as it glistens in the morning sun, bright blue sky promising of a beautiful day. From the window of his small apartment, cherry blossom trees are visible down in the street, and their branches sway gently in a soft breeze that’s also blowing through his curtains, making them move like gentle ghosts.

He breathes in, and that same sense of home that’s been with him since he moved here in November flows through him. It’s an easy comfort, something he’s come to love about South Korea more than he ever thought he would.

He checks the time on his phone. The call is running a little late, but he’s not worried - he knows you’ll call soon enough. You smile at him from his phone’s lock screen, and his heart feels full, warmer than he thought it ever would again when it comes to you.

The evening you came to see him changed everything. He’d already told himself that if you were ever going to reappear in his life, he wasn’t going to let you go again. So the moment you had appeared on his doorstep, like summoned from his deepest, darkest desires, he’d known to never let you go.

The weeks without you, after he’d asked you to leave were the worst of his life, in retrospect. Yes, those were the weeks where he found his job here in Seoul, but the belief that you were forever going to be gone, and that he’d have to finally grieve you, for real, hadn’t sat right with him.

When he’d seen you on his doorstep, he’d felt at ease, at home. He knew it would be complicated, especially now that he was moving to Seoul, but he knew he had to at least try to make it work with you. Somehow, at first, he’d believed it wouldn’t work. Maybe that’s why he let you tell him all that you did. If only you could have been in his head…

The words that you told him, sentences shaped in the most beautiful dream, they had made his heart swell in his chest. Like the sails of a boat when a strong gush of wind catches. And he’d known then that you felt the same way. That, no matter how much he had come to hate you, it was only because he loved you too much. Too strong, to be able to live without you. For a while he’d believed it was too much for him to be with you too, but then he had understood how stupid that had been.

Nothing could ever be too much for him to be with you.

He hadn’t said yes, when you’d asked him to marry you. He wanted to, he really did, but he just wanted to be sure that you could make it work. And he’d believed telling you about Seoul would undo your speech, would send you running into the night…

Only, you had told him you’d move with him. You’d find a new job over here, or maybe first get a masters at the university of Seoul so that you could work after. Luckily enough, with your father’s connections you were able to get an interview at the American embassy. The process has been slow since then, but you’ll be coming here when you can, and that’s all that matters.

You’re coming here to build a home with him, in his home country. He thinks, maybe he’ll ask you to marry him soon.

A soft smile grows on his lips, even as some far part of his heart still aches. He reckons the ache will probably stick around for a long time - he’s lost you for a while, and that is sure to leave a scar on his beating organ. But like the scars on his knee and lower stomach, he knows it’ll heal. He’ll probably always feel it, like he feels those down there, but it won’t forever hurt.

Perhaps it’ll stop hurting the moment he can hold you again.

This is the longest you’ve spent apart, but this time around it’s different. Because your forever is awaiting, and it will soon take you in its embrace. You’ve been waiting to know if you got the job, as you’ve gone through the whole process, and you’re supposed to get the answer in the next few days.

His phone starts ringing, dragging him out of his thoughts. He immediately picks up, far too excited to see your face on the other side of the line. Because of course you facetimed him - you’ve been doing that every day since he left.

Your face appears, and lead forms in his stomach at the sight of tears streaming down your cheeks. He feels his dreams crumple, slowly, crashing down into a never-ending hole - but then you laugh. You laugh, wiping your cheeks dry.

“I got it,” you tell him.

Even though he was just thinking about that, it takes a moment for him to be able to connect the dots. But then he does, and it feels like everything is finally set right. Like the trials are finally over, and he starts crying too.

“You got it?” he repeats, choking around the lump in his throat.

“I did,” you say. “I fucking did.” You laugh again, the most healing sound he’s ever come to hear. “I’m starting next week.”

“Next week?” he bursts out. “What? How?”

“They offered me a bonus if I could start next week. And since I’ve already told the firm I was leaving, I figured like it wasn’t giving up on them too much. I’ll still have to finish stuff for an account here, but I’m coming.”

“You’re coming,” he echoes. “Baby…”

“Kook…”

The echo of the nicknames sets off a chain reaction in him, and Jungkook wants you here right now. Wants to be able to touch you through the screen, to remind you of just how much he loves you. But he knows he can’t, not until you get here.

“When will you get here?” he asks then.

You look away from the screen, letting out a small giggle. And then you flip the camera, so that he can see the plane tickets you’ve just bought. “I should get there on Saturday evening.”

Jungkook cries as you flip the camera back to you. He cries, wanting to hug you tight to his chest. “Saturday…”

“Yes.”

He wipes his cheeks, laughing lightly. “Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“I’ll clean the whole place for you. And I’ll get some food you’re going to love. And shit, I’m going to have to get a new pillow before then.”

“You only have one pillow?” you ask, surprised.

He pouts. “Yeah.”

That makes you roll your eyes, and the familiarity of the action has Jungkook’s heart squeezing in his chest. It’s been doing that a lot when it comes to you now. Whenever he doesn’t really pay attention, his feelings sneak up on him, and he wonders how it is possible that they managed to grow so much, when he was away from you.

Was it the fear of losing you? Of having to let the one get away? It’s unclear. All that he knows is, since you told him you’d move to South Korea with him, Jungkook’s only been loving you more and more. As if his heart is a furnace, and you’ve been feeding coal to it so much it might burst someday.

He knows that it won’t. It can’t, not when you’re going to be here in just a few days.

You talk some more, and Jungkook moves back to his mattress as you do so. He puts you down on the night table, laughs as you comment how good his shirtless chest looks from that angle, and then he lies on his side facing you as he wraps himself in a blanket. You do the same on your side – it’s your little ritual, something that’s been helping with the distance this time around.

Sometimes, Jungkook wonders if doing that before would have saved you both the heartbreak. Would have saved you from breaking up, and the thought oftentimes makes him spiral into feelings he’d rather not feel again. So today he pushes it away, focuses on the fact that you made it through the hurdles.

You’re coming here. He hardly can believe it, yet it feels like it’s just a mundane act of normalcy, of life and of you and him. He reckons the whole world must know it, the whole world must be as excited as him, because he can barely contain the emotions in his chest.

“I think I’m going to hold you for five days straight when you get here,” he says when there’s a lull in the conversation.

You snort. “We’re going to be busy for a few weeks. I need a Korean bank account and all that shit.”

“Party pooper,” he mutters, which earns him a laugh.

“I’m excited to see you,” you murmur when your laugh fades away, replaced by a small smile.

Jungkook pulls at his piercings, warmth blossoming like a flower in his heart. It softens the beats, and he believes he might even melt if you keep looking at him like you are.

It brings him back to those few weeks before he left, when you’d gotten back together. You hadn’t seen anyone but the other most of the time, the relationship turning far more carnal than it ever was between you and him. You’d spent sleepless nights entwined with the other, promises of forever and searing kisses exchanged in the dark. Passion was renewed, and Jungkook believes the flame of it is still burning bright. Because the way you wet your lips, sighing deeply, makes a drop of magma roll down his spine until it settles forward in his core.

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he replies, voice low.

You hold his gaze, and he sees the moment that lust takes over your features. Your lids grow heavier, your lips slightly part, and you take a soft inhale.

“Yeah?” you let out.

He nods. “So fucking much. The things I’ll do to you…”

You bite your lip. “Like what?”

Jungkook gulps, right as the drop of magma flows until it reaches his dick. Blood rushes after it, and he feels himself hardening as you await his reply.

“First I’ll kiss you,” he answers. “Cause you deserve to be kissed, mmh?”

You nod in approval.

“Then I’ll kiss your neck,” he continues. “You better bring good concealer because I’ll suck hickeys on you. Everyone in Korea is going to know you’re mine.”

“Kook,” you whine, and he chuckles.

“You’re mine, no?”

You nod your head, wetting your lips. “I am.”

“Good girl.” You let out a breathy sound that makes him cock an eyebrow. “Already getting worked up?”

You roll your eyes at the condescending tone of his voice, and he offers you a dumb grin as you settle your attention back on him. “You know it doesn’t take me a lot to get turned on by you, Jungkook.”

The way you say his name makes his dick strain against his underwear. He grabs his phone, turning on his back as he looks up at you.

“Then get your vibrator, mmh? Show me that I’m making you feel good.”

You narrow your eyes, clearly debating if you want to do it, but Jungkook knows that you will – he’s made you come over the phone plenty of time since he left.

You move out of the frame, and Jungkook listens to the rustle of the sheets as you crawl to where you keep your sex toys. You don’t have many – two vibrators and an anal plug you’ve tried once and didn’t like. You come back with the vibrator you prefer, a bright pink toy that Jungkook used on you countless times before, in your long relationship.

Needless to say, in the few weeks you had together before he left, he didn’t have to use it. You both were craving each other way too much, and just a soft touch from his fingers would send you flying over the edge.

He just knows it’s going to be the same when he’ll get to touch you again. Saturday…

“Turn it on,” he tells you as you look at him, offering him big, round eyes as if trying to appear innocent.

You bite your lip, chuckling lightly. “I’m fully dressed.”

Jungkook groans, and he palms himself through his joggers.

“Did I stutter?” he asks you.

You lose the smirk that graced your mouth, eyes clouding with lust again. Without saying anything else, you turn on the vibrator, and it’s familiar buzz reaches Jungkook’s ear.

“Put it on your clit,” he orders.

“Over my underwear?” you ask, and you already sound breathless.

You’ll come in no time at all.

Jungkook doesn’t reply at first, busying himself with removing his clothes. You patiently wait, lips shining sinfully when you wet them. Jungkook wishes he could feel them on his dick, but for now his hand will have to suffice. He wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself lazily.

“Over the clothes, yes,” he finally answers.

You slightly nod, and the vibrator disappears from Jungkook’s view as you press it against your clit. Your eyelids flutter shut as your mouth falls open, and Jungkook moves faster.

“Feels good?” enquires.

“Fuck,” you say. “Yes. Are you touching yourself too?”

“You know I’m touching myself for my good girl.”

You moan softly, and Jungkook watches you for a time. Watches the way your features are hungry for him, thirsty for what he can’t give you right now. He’d want to take a picture of your face right now, your lustful expression sure to spur him on when you’re not around, but he knows it to be unnecessary.

He already has a gallery full of sinful pictures of you, and he knows your gallery has plenty of pictures of him too. It seemed unfair that you had none, so he made sure to take nice pictures for you to use when you need it, and you’ve sent him videos of you touching yourself to those pictures.

His dick twitches in his hand at the memory, right as his balls start to tighten.

“Want to feel it without the fabric?” he asks, scolding himself for sounding so breathless so quickly.

“I want to see you,” you reply, voice shy even though you’ve done that plenty of time.

“You want to see my cock?” he teases. “Want to see me paint my stomach white ‘cause I can’t come in you right now?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Fuck, Kook.”

“Take off your clothes,” he orders then, not giving in to what you want. The way he says it is stern, and he knows you always obey him when he speaks like that.

You do, taking off your shirt first. Jungkook jerks himself off faster at the sight of your perked up nipples, and his mouth salivates as he imagines sucking on them, pinching them until you’re a writhing mess under him.

“Keep the panties on,” he reminds you.

Because there’s just something about you spoiling your panties when you come that drives him insane. Makes him go batshit crazy, until he’s rammed into you so hard he’s rearranged your guts. Not that he’ll get to do it today, but he still wants to give in to his fantasy, even through the distance.

Even though it’s night for you, and day for him.

“Always,” you reply once you’ve laid down again. “I know you.”

You do. You really fucking do, and he loves you so much for it.

“Push your panties to the side and put the vibrator on it,” he orders.

You moan softly as you do so, and a shift from you makes your phone fall to reveal your ceiling. Jungkook huffs out frustratingly, though the next moan you let out makes him pick up his pace even more, as he starts squeezing his dick harder. He looks down at himself – he’s got a bead of pre-cum on his slit, and he knows your wicked tongue would lick it clean if you were here.

It’s enough to make him curse as he throws his head back against his pillow.

“I want to see you,” you ask again. “Please.”

“I can’t even see you anymore, baby,” he scolds you. “Put your phone where I can see your pretty pussy.”

You obey right away. At first all he can see is your palm, and he mindlessly slows his ministrations on his dick as you move your phone. Soon enough the palm disappears, and is replaced by the view of your soaked panties, pushed aside with your vibrator pushing the lips apart, pressing on your swollen bud.

Just the sight is almost enough to make Jungkook come. “Shit, baby,” he says, and he flips his camera around as he returns to the initial fast-paced stroking. “See how hard you make me?”

“Kook, you whine.

“Put it in,” he tells you.

You moan, and you move your vibrator up and down your folds a few times, collecting the juice. It glistens in the dim light of your room, and Jungkook imagines your juice coating his dick instead. He imagines slowly thrusting inside of you, pushing his tip between your folds until you beg him to fuck you.

He’d fuck you so hard right now, if only he could. He would only stop once you’d cream his dick, once you’d squirt all over his lower stomach.

He grunts loudly. “Fuck,” he curses, right at the same time as you finally push your vibrator in.

You moan out his name, and his balls are so tight and heavy with cum he knows it won’t take him much longer. But he wants you to come first, so he slows down and focuses on watching you.

“Touch your clit too, baby,” he tells you. “Don’t be shy.”

You chuckle breathlessly, and then you’re drawing circles on your clit, as you push your vibrator in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“Tell me how that feels,” he says.

“Feels so fucking good,” you answer, and then you choke on a moan. “I wish it was your dick instead.”

“Soon,” he reminds you. “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk into work on Monday.”

You let out a breathy sound, and you pick up your pace on yourself. Jungkook feels entranced by the sight, and he loses his train of thoughts for a few seconds. He holds his cum in, reigns his desire in as best as he can before he finally finds words again.

“You’re going to come for me, mmh?” he says. “Show me how good you feel, baby. I want to see your walls clench on your vibrator the same way that they clench on my dick.”

You lose it. Your back arches as you moan loudly. Your fingers on your clit keep moving, slower now, but you’ve stopped moving the vibrator altogether. And you come for a while, wailing his name every time a wave of orgasm catches you.

Only then does Jungkook allow himself to stroke his dick the way he knows will make him come. He holds it tighter, makes sure to twist his wrist the right way every time he comes up, and he curses your name.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he praises you breathlessly. “You’re going to make me come.”

“Come for me,” you beg then, voice strained from the ecstasy swimming through you.

And Jungkook does. His orgasm hits strong, and the spurts of his cum fall on his abdomen, covering his fist at the same time. He comes hard, and he keeps stroking his dick, using his cum as lubrication to milk his orgasm out of himself. He knows you’ve watched attentively because, when he opens his eyes – when did he close them? – your face is looking back at him from the screen of his phone, teeth digging in your lower lip.

“That was hot,” you say, as if you haven’t seen him come like this almost every day since he left.

Jungkook chuckles, mind swirling in too much ecstasy right now for him to reply anything. You probably know that, because you too remain silent for a while as you both come down from your highs.

When Jungkook finally can think a coherent thought, he grabs tissues from his bedside table to wipe his hand, and then poorly wipes his abdomen. He judges that it does no good, grabs a few more tissues and then does a proper job at it, going to put them away in the bin in the bathroom when he’s done. He lies back down after that, wrapping himself up in his blanket, happy that he doesn’t have to work until the evening.

Because he took a permanent job as a studio photographer for a big agency over here, and for some reason a lot of entertainment companies like the services to be offered in the evening.

You yawn, which attracts his attention back to you. You’re lying on your side in a similar position as he, and he notices then that you look tired as all hell. Perhaps because of the orgasm, yes, but also because it’s night for you.

“Are you excited?” he asks gently, right as his heartrate picks up in his chest.

You nod. “Fuck, yes I am. I can’t wait to sleep in the same bed as you. To see Bam again.”

Jungkook looks around, almost expecting the dog to be somewhere near, but Bam has taken to lie down in the sun coming in from the sliding doors of the balcony every morning, so he can only assume that that’s where the dog is.

“It’s going to be awesome,” Jungkook voices, and then his lips break into a large smile. “I can’t wait to kiss your stupid face.”

You fake-offense. “Stupid?”

At that he laughs, shrugging his shoulders – awkwardly so from the position. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes, though a smile curves your lips. And it stays there as you continue to speak for a little while longer, even if you have an early morning tomorrow. You claim it doesn’t matter, but Jungkook notices your eyelids progressively getting heavier. It’s adorable, and he watches as you slowly fall asleep. Soon enough your breathing evens out, and your eyelids flutter as you do fall asleep. It’s endearing to him, and his heart grows warm even though he knows he should hang up.

He still indulges a little. Still watches you for a time, thinking about the fact that, in just a few days, he’ll watch you sleep right here, in this bed. His sheets will take on the smell of you, his walls will echo with your laugh, with your voice. He’ll get to hold you on his couch as you watch shows together, get to hold your hand in the streets of Seoul.

He’ll get to love you, as he always has. Even when you were broken up he knows he loved you. He’s loved you for so long now that he knows he always will. Like the leaves love the sun – you’ve given him life more than you know you have. Maybe that’s why losing you hurt so bad – he was but a leaf in the fall, slowly dying.

But now you’re coming here, and you’re going to shine your light on him again.

For the first time that night, the wariness he still had doesn’t show up. It finally leaves him in peace, to be replaced by the thrill that you’re going to be reunited soon. Because yes, he was wary. He could hardly believe that you and he would work it out, eventually. He’d always believed, in the corner of his mind, that you’d call and tell him it’d be over someday.

But you never did, and now you’re coming here. Permanently, to spend the years by his side. No wariness can invade his mind tonight, and his heart beats softly, warmly, as he holds onto a pillow he’s just bought, imagining that it’s you.

He can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

Saturday, April 20th

Flying to Seoul is an adventure. And not in a good sense – you’ve never really liked airplanes, and it’s the first time you’ve had to fly for so long all alone, without Jungkook by your side. It’s not that airplanes scare you; mostly, you just can’t sleep, and long flights are a struggle as they suck out all of your energy, turning you into a zombie as you finally step out of the plane, on South Korean soil.

You stretch, blinking away the tiredness, and then your thoughts turn to Jungkook. To him as he’s waiting somewhere in this airport, ready to bring you home.

Home. You think home would be by his side, wherever in the world. As a matter of fact, you know it is – the fact that being away from him, in the emotional sense of it, killed you a little more every day was proof enough of it.

He’s your home, and will always be. You’ve been thinking about him a lot lately – when have you not? Thinking about the years, the distance, the moment you’ll get to hold him. The moment you’ll smell his distinct clean scent, the moment you’ll watch his lips spread in his wide bunny smile…

You’ve been craving him far too much.

You walk behind the trail of travelers, heading towards him. Finally – after months of distance, you’ll finally be reunited. And forever at that. And perhaps your tiredness is a blessing in disguise – it makes you disconnect with your surroundings, as you make your way through the airport. Through the border, and then towards the baggage claim.

You glance at a screen, making sure you’re heading towards the right one, and then you turn your head to your right, squinting your eyes as you try to see if the baggage claim is in that direction.

That’s when you see him. In all his comfortable glory – oversized black t-shirt on, along with black cargo pants. He’s holding flowers, and everything else blurs as you sprint towards him, newfound energy filling your entire being at the sight of him.

He’s solid like a wall when you jump in his arms, and he lets out a small giggle as he spins you around. You wrap your arms around his neck, hold him as tight as you dare to, and you hide your face in his neck.

He does smell as good as you expected he would – there’s a hint of sandalwood on his skin, probably from the remnants of the cologne he wore. You pull your face away from his neck, trying to finally get a good look at his face.

He looks as pretty as ever. Ethereal, his big doe eyes shining with unshed tears as your gazes connect as if they are but two adjacent dots on a connect-the-dots drawing. He’s wearing his glasses, and from so close you can see a small speck of a fingerprint on the corner of them. It’s a weird thing to notice, and it makes you laugh, though it gets out as more of a strangled sound than anything else.

His pink lips finally stretch into that bunny smile you love so much, and everything is set right in the world. You think, for a fleeting moment all atrocities stop, peace and love winning over hate and war. All that’s left is that powerful love between you and him, the kind of love that could move mountains.

And it’s moved mountains, for you and him. Mountains of hardships and heartbreaks and broken trust, leading you back to this moment in time, where you’re finally held by him again.

“Hey you,” he chokes out, and you giggle as you hide your face in his neck again.

You feel some eyes on you. You’re not surprised – South Korea isn’t big on public displays of affection the same way that America is. And you don’t care. Don’t care that people are watching, don’t care that you once broke his heart.

All you want in this instant is to feel his lips against yours. It seems it’s his desire too: he meets you halfway, and the softness of his lips makes you melt against him, until you think you’re but a mere puddle at his feet.

The kiss entirely destroys you. It wipes out the entirety of your being, and fills it with him until all that you know is him. All that you know are his big hands supporting your weight, his soft hair as it tickles your hands, his gentle lips as they dance with yours. All you know is the shaky breath he lets out when you rest your forehead against his, and for a small eternity of this moment in time, you breathe the same air.

“Hey,” you finally reply.

He squeezes you tighter, and then finally lets you down. Your feet touch the ground slowly, and he still holds you close to him as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into yet another hug. You sniffle, hiding your face in his shirt, inhaling more of his familiar scent.

Something seems different with it – is it the detergent? The question goes unanswered, especially as he pulls away, just enough to hand you the bouquet of flowers. They’re a little squashed now, but their petals still shine with a pinkish glow that gives them a fairytale look, and their sweet scent floats to your nose as you inhale deeply.

“So pretty,” you murmur, and he laughs as you finally take the flowers.

“Not as pretty as you.”

You roll your eyes as you snort. “Cheesy.”

“For you?” he lets out, wrapping his arms around you again. “Always.”

And then one of his hands finds the side of your face, and his thumb swipes at your cheek once before you’re tilting your head back, welcoming his lips home. It’s slow and sweet, the very essence of you and him, and you sigh in content as your free hand fists at the fabric of his shirt.

He moves slowly against you, tracing his love into you in a language only you and he know. It’s gentle, raising warmth in your heart the same way that the sun rises every morning. You’re surprised the warmth is still there, is still so potent.

You’d think that after nearly eight years together, the warmth would fade away. But it doesn’t – it never has, not with you and him. Because, after all, you really are made of stuff that lasts. Yes, the distance tried to break you, but you bounced back.

After months of pain you bounced back, and now you’ll never be separated again.

Jungkook pulls away, and he gently taps your cheek as you offer him a wide smile, your nose scrunching up from the happiness you can barely contain.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he whispers, and then he pecks your forehead. He takes a step back, offers you his tattooed hand to hold, and you let out a small, happy sound as you entwine your fingers with his. “Adorable, really.”

You laugh, and you let him pull you towards your baggage claim, where your three registered bags will be waiting for you. You also have a small backpack with you, though it only contained a book, your laptop and Jungkook’s Switch, that he let you keep while he was away for a reason you don’t really understand.

“I missed you,” you say, your voice taking on a vulnerable tone.

And you have. You’ve missed him terribly, and it’s led to long conversations with your friends as you tried to get him out of your mind, even though you knew that you couldn’t possibly do so. Jimin helped, and you still remember the last time you hung out with him.

Jimin is one of your closest friends now. Even more so than Jiho, mostly because he too was alone. By choice – he hasn’t dated anyone after Scottie broke his heart. And to this day you still wonder how he survived. You know he loved Scottie dearly, and you saw the parallels between his relationship with your old friend and your own relationship with Jungkook. Only, Jimin never got his happy ending.

The last time you hung out with him, he’d held you tight, for a few seconds. He’d told you that he couldn’t wait for you and Jungkook to be happy again, that you were giving him hope. You’d told him to keep his head high, and had him promise that he wasn’t going to keep everyone at arm’s length anymore.

He’d joked and said that you should find him a nice girl to date, here in Korea, and that he’ll move over here too. You know he wasn’t entirely joking – ghosts of him and Scottie still haunt him back home. So you promised him that you’d do your best, and then you’d finally let go.

You rarely see him cry, but tears brimmed his gaze then, and you’d gently wiped the one that spilled on his cheek. To this day, you still wondered what exactly had made him cry. Even at the zenith of his heartbreak, he’d barely cried about Scottie.

You hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t offered an explanation. Instead, you’d returned to the goodbye celebration that Taehyung and Jo were hosting, and the moment between you and Jimin had passed.

Jungkook pulls you from your train of thoughts as he finally replies to you. “I’ve missed you too,” he says, and his fingers clutches yours just a little tighter for a few seconds before they relax again. “And I got the apartment all ready for you.”

You chuckle, eyes going to the conveyor belt where your suitcases are supposedly awaiting you. They haven’t started letting the ones from your flight out, and Jungkook and you stand to the side as you tell him about the flight, and about the celebration with your friends. You keep the moment with Jimin out of the conversation, though you know that he’s just as close to Jimin as you are.

“Why are these so heavy?” Jungkook whines as he grabs your third and final bag from the belt.

You playfully punch him in the shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be big and strong?”

The side eye he offers you makes you snort, and he can’t help the smile that grows on his lips too. It’s frequent around you – he has the same effect on you, so you can’t blame him.

“I’m big and strong but you’re the one that decided to bring fucking bricks here,” he complains. You know he’s faking it though, because a second later the annoyance drips away from his tone, replaced by endearment as he says, “Shall we head home, then?”

You scrunch up your nose in happiness again. “Please. I’m excited to see the pillow you picked out for me.”

He huffs a laugh as you grab one of the bags, while he takes care of the other two. “Oh, trust me, it’s the best pillow one could hope for.”

You roll your eyes playfully, as you slowly make your way through the airport, heading towards the garage where Jungkook parked his car as he waited for you. It’s a small walk, and you spend it chatting about his latest work, as he admits he’s supposed to be keeping everything silent.

As if signing a NDA would keep him from telling you about his job.

“Enhypen?” you repeat after him.

He nods forcefully. “Yeah! They’re the hype in the K-pop industry right now.”

You have no idea who they are, but Jungkook’s enthusiasm is contagious. You never thought he’d be one to enjoy that type of music, but when he puts a song on the moment you’re sitting in his car, you can see what he means.

As he drives, Jungkook chatters on and on about the different groups he’s taken pictures of now. You listen with your head turned towards him, focus solely on him. It’s like everything else is blurry, and even he seems blurry at the edges. As if you’re dreaming, and you mindlessly have to pinch your arm, to remind you that this is real.

You’re finally here, with him.

“To think I didn’t like picturing people before,” Jungkook lets out as you’re stopped at a red light. He looks over at you, offering you a small smile. “I can’t believe that it’s my job now.”

“You’ve always liked taking pictures of me,” you point out, brows slightly bunched together.

It’s not that you don’t believe he doesn’t like taking pictures of people, or didn’t like before. You have a vague memory of him mentioning that to you years ago.

“It’s different with you.” His smile grows bigger, and he quickly leans forward to peck your lips, which brings forth a curve upwards to your mouth too. “But I think I’ve started enjoying this because of you. Because, yes.” He pauses as he has to start focusing on the road again. “Yes people change, and the picture might just be a fleeting moment, and yes that can be scary, but at the same time…” He shrugs. “At the same time there’s a high value in a memory of who you once were in time.”

“Wouldn’t you like to be a wedding photographer then?” you suggest. “I hardly can see a more valuable memory to immortalize.”

He chuckles. “Every memory deserves to be immortalized. The good and the bad. How else would we know who we are?”

“Wow.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re just really hot when you speak philosophy like that.”

He smirks, grabbing your hand to bring it to his lips. He presses a petal-soft peck to your knuckles before saying, “Honey, I’m always hot.”

You look up to the sky as you burst out laughing. “Of course you are.”

You hear the pout in Jungkook’s voice as he whines, “You don’t think I am?”

“Maybe a little bit?”

He lets go of your hand, faking an offended sound. “Alright, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

You love this, with him. The easy banter, that reminds you why you fell in love with him in the first place. And maybe, maybe the distance made you feel like the banter had perished, like the flame of a candle in a strong gust of wind.

Now you know that it just strengthened the bond.

You keep bickering like that all the way home, teasing each other until you’re just two laughing mess. Jungkook’s energy is contagious, just as much as his enthusiasm is, and you almost forget that you haven’t slept in nearly 24 hours by the time you get home.

Home. A place for you and him, here, on the other side of the world. You think it befits your relationship and it really does – nothing makes more sense than you and him building yourself a home in a foreign country.

Though it isn’t quite foreign to him, is it?

Your apartment is in a newer building in a nice neighbourhood. You’re struck that, despite the thousands of miles between here and America, it eerily looks similar, like there’s a piece of the past here with you, other than the man next to you. And maybe that sense of familiarity is because of him. He leads you inside, refusing to bring your bags in at first, claiming that he’ll bring them right in for you later on. You want to scold him – it’s already dark here – but Jungkook insists, and God knows you can’t say no to him.

So you follow him in, laughing like you’re just a young couple in love, which you reckon is exactly what you are. You wonder if to the outside eye, people can tell that almost a year ago, you lost each other.

Do they know the months of heartbreak between you, or can they just see the love?

The answer doesn’t matter. Because you’ve never really cared about what anyone else thinks and, to you, the only important thing is that you get to share your life with him, even after the hurdles.

“Bam will surely go crazy,” Jungkook warns as you finally near the door to your home.

You laugh as he dials a code in, and then the lock whirs as it moves. A second later Jungkook is pulling the door open, to finally reveal the apartment you’ll get to live in now.

The first thing that you notice is the bouquet of red roses on the kitchen island, that you can see from where you’re still standing outside in the hall. You look down at the flowers you brought in from the car, pushing them towards Jungkook until he takes a hold of them.

“Are you planning to become a florist?” you tease him.

He chuckles, though a light pink tint flushes his cheeks. “I know you like flowers.”

“So you got two bouquets?”

You barely see his nod as Bam comes barreling towards you, and you bend down to greet the dog properly. He licks at your cheeks as he lets out a long string of whines, and it breaks you heart to see him like this.

You wonder who’s missed you the most – Jungkook, or Bam?

You push Bam inside, cooing him gently as you pet him, blinking away tears as the strength of everything hits you head on.

Maybe you didn’t realize before, but seeing Bam hits you with a reality that is scary, far more than anything else you’ve ever experienced, yet you dive in headfirst. You dive into this life with Jungkook, dive into everything that it means for you and him.

There is no regret in this moment, and nor are there any in the following, as he shows you your shared living space.

The living room is spacious, more than you expected it to be. On Facetime it looked smaller than this, but the sliding glass doors leading to a balcony make it look larger, as if you’ve got the entire city to your feet. It’s not even that the apartment is on the higher levels – it’s just positioned in a way that offers a great view of Seoul, with the Namsan tower in the distance.

Right now it shines green, an indicator that the air quality outside is average. It’s something you remember from one of your previous trips, when it shone red the whole time, the air quality being so bad it was recommended to stay inside.

After the living room, Jungkook shows you the bathroom, and you sigh in relief at the sight of the real shower. You’d often been in Airbnb’s that only had a shower head attached to the sink, and though you hadn’t minded it for shorter trips, you reckon you’ll appreciate the shower in your regular life. And the bathroom is neat – the floor is composed of pale grey ceramic tiles, that climb the walls of the shower too. The glass door of it is slightly stained with dry water marks, and a towel hangs on it, probably from when Jungkook showered before he came to pick you up.

Your eyes slide to the mirror next, where you see your reflection for the first time since you’ve landed in Seoul. You wince at your sight, scrunching your nose up in disgust.

“You could have told me I look like shit.”

Jungkook chuckles, wrapping his arm around your middle as he kisses the top of your head. “You look beautiful to me.”

“Thank you,” you let out, “but no.”

At that he lets out a throaty laugh, one you can’t resist but join it as you wiggle in his arms until he lets you turn around. You rest your chin on his chest after your laugh died down, looking up at him as he looks down at you. His pink lips are slightly stretched into a soft smile, the one you know he reserves only for you, and your heart syncs with his.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His arms move, and a second later he’s holding your face, ever so gently. “I love you too.” He adds your name, a gentle plea that makes you melt for him. “I love you so much.”

The kiss you exchange after that is sweet, just a reminder that you’ve got an entire life in front of you, together with him. It lasts for a small eternity, and when he pulls away you feel like you’ve aged since the first day you’ve kissed him, all these years ago. In a hot tub, thinking that you were committing a grave mistake.

Little did you know that it was the best decision of your life.

“Want to see the bedroom?” he asks.

You nod, and a yawn surprises you as he grips your hand to pull you towards the bedroom, Bam trotting behind you.

The bedroom is familiar. Probably because you’ve spent a lot of time visiting it virtually, and the sight of the unmade bed has exhaustion crashing into you like a train. You mindlessly rub at your face as you yawn again, and Jungkook chuckles next to you.

“Why don’t you take a shower and rest up?” he suggests. “I’ll cook you something while you sleep.”

You smile tiredly, wrapping your arms around his dainty waist. “I want to lie with you though.”

“Later,” he promises, kissing your forehead in a loud peck that makes you giggle as you hide your face in his chest. “Have to make sure you eat something good before you sleep.”

“I’m not that hungry,” you murmur, sighing as he runs a soothing hand on your back.

“Don’t care, you’ll eat.”

At that you laugh, pulling away to push him playfully. “You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

You pout. “I do.”

He brings his hand to your face, thumb gently smoothing your pout. “Get in the shower,” he tells you. “You can grab one of my shirts and I’ll go get your bags.”

You sigh, already feeling exhausted at the idea of having to shower, yet you know it’s necessary. So you let him go, heading to his dresser to pull out an oversized Calvin Klein t-shirt. You then move to the bathroom, Bam still hot on your heels, and you turn on the shower as Bam lies down underneath the sink, crawling to fit there. You laugh, patting the dog’s head before you undress and move to the shower.

Once you’re done, you quickly dry yourself before putting Jungkook’s shirt on, sighing contentedly as his familiar scent fills your nose. The fabric of the shirt is soft, and so are the sheets of the bed. It’s no wonder you fall asleep in a few minutes, to the sounds of Jungkook in the kitchen. You’d think the clatter of utensils would keep you awake, but you’re dead asleep when he comes in with a steaming bowl of food on a platter, and he shakes you awake.

You grumble, but then the smell hits your nose, and your stomach rumbles as it demands for food.

“What did you cook?” you mutter as you crack an eye open to see the food he’s put down next to you.

“Some noodles,” he tells you. “With buldak sauce and some seaweed flakes.”

You stretch, pushing yourself up so that you’re in a sitting position. “You’re not eating?” you ask as you pull the platter closer to you.

He shrugs sheepishly. “I already ate. I just wanted to let you sleep for longer.”

You send a scolding look his way, though you say nothing as you grab the chopsticks and the bowl. You eat, and the flavours explode in your mouth, making you shut your eyes in delight.

“I missed your food so bad,” you tell him.

“Just my food?” he teases.

“Everything about you,” you answer, more serious than you even meant to be.

His features soften, big doe eyes filling with emotion. “I missed you too. Even the farts you let out when you sleep.”

“I’m sorry, what!” you burst out, and he guffaws next to you.

“Yah, you know it’s true!”

You roll your eyes, cheek flaming both from the spice of the food and Jungkook’s comment. “I’ll kill you in your sleep,” you threaten him.

He presses a wet peck on your cheek. “Can’t wait.”

At that you can’t stop the smile that grows on your lips, and then you finish eating, as Jungkook plays the Switch next to you. It casts a soft glow on his features, and you admire him as you eat.

He’s dreamy. The man of your dreams, really, and you can’t believe you’re finally here. To think that months ago you’d promised you’d move with him, though it had been an unclear future.

Now it’s clear as spring water, and you think it’s the most beautiful thing in life.

Later, once you’re done eating and Jungkook’s taken Bam outside, you cuddle in bed, your head resting on his chest as his tattooed arm is wrapped around you. You’re tracing idle lines on his skin, watching the goosebumps forming on his skin wherever your fingers pass.

You sigh, nuzzling your face further into him. “I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too, baby,” he replies, and his arm tightens around you for a few seconds. “So so much.”

“We’re going to have so much fun,” you add, voice even lower as sleep threatens to take you, his heartbeat a soft melody that’s always made you fall asleep in no time.

“Always,” he promises, kissing the top of your head.

And you know it’s a promise you’ll both fulfill.

“And Jungkook?” you add, even though your mind isn’t even fully there anymore.

“Mmh?”

“You never said yes when I asked you to marry me.”

He chuckles softly, kissing your head again. “I do want to marry you, but you’re going to have to be patient for just a little longer.

If you were more awake, you’d probably figure out that he’s planning something. But you’re not, Morpheus having claimed you as his for the night.

“M’kay,” you breathe out, and a second later you’re asleep.

And even though you can’t hear, Jungkook adds, “I can’t wait to get to call you my wife someday.”

Saturday, May 18

Settling down in Seoul proved to take longer than you expected. It’s been weeks and you’re not even sure everything is done – there’s always something new that you realize you have to do, some papers you have to fill for the government and for your job.

But you don’t mind it, as you do it all in the company of the one that you love.

Jungkook has been glowing, since you got here. Smiles wide as he holds your hand, swinging it between you two as you take walks alongside the Han river. Eyes shining as he looks at you while fucking into you slowly, love so stark in his gaze that you wonder if you’ll be consumed by it one day. You think his love is the purest thing in the world – purer than the heartbeat of a newborn child, Jungkook loves like you’re the only thing in the universe.

Years ago, you never would have believed he’d love you so much someday. Sometimes, you even think he loves you more than you love him, in an unconditional way that stems from the softest corners of his heart. But then again you know your love for him knows no boundaries, so you doubt he’d be able to love you more.

But is love between you a competition, or a partnership? You reckon it’s the latter. Because some days when you’re too tired to give him your 100%, he pitches in and gives 150%. When he’s sick and doesn’t want to leave the bed, you’re the one that gives him 150%, and you think that’s why you and him work so well.

Proximity makes you grow closer. Makes it so that you are understanding each other even more than before, something you hadn’t thought possible until you’d realized your souls resonate to the same frequency now. As if they’re just one, and you think maybe they are.

Maybe they’ve been for longer than you think too.

The hour is late. You’ve had to work on a project all day, even though it’s the weekend. Jungkook is away to photograph a wedding, so you’ve been alone with Bam tonight, something that rarely happens.

Indeed, Jungkook has been good at coordinating his schedule so that you can spend as much time together as possible. Sometimes you’re afraid he’s going to get tired of you, but in the web of possibilities this world holds, you think the thread that’d lead to him being tired of you doesn’t exist.

It’s just a mere remnant of insecurities brought on by the fact that you were broken up for a few months.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes as you glance at the world outside. Seoul glistens in the late hour, and you yawn as you watch a plane flying by, its flashing lights guiding it across the sky. You reckon you should head to bed – you know Jungkook wouldn’t mind – but then again you want to wait for him to get home.

And you’re glad you have, because the moment you hear him dialing the code at the door, a spike of energy bursts through you and you’re jumping up to your feet.

Jungkook opens the door, and you run to him, throwing yourself at him. He takes a step back, laughing as you wrap your arms around his neck to hold him tight.

“Hello there,” he says through his laugh, putting down his camera bag next to you.

“Hello,” you mutter against him, the word muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“Still working?” Jungkook asks, and you assume he’s glanced towards the table, where your laptop waits for you.

You nod, pulling away so that you can look up at him. “Unfortunately.”

He kisses your forehead, and your eyelids flutter shut as you sigh in content. “Are you hungry?”

“Mmh.”

He chuckles. “That means yes?”

You crack an eye open to meet his gaze. “Maybe?”

Jungkook detangles himself from your arms, kicking off his shoes and putting slippers on before heading in. You pout as he leaves, but then you decide to follow him, right as he disappears in the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

He’s digging in a drawer for some underwear when he answers, “I’m going to take a quick shower while you finish working.” He pauses for a few seconds, and when he finally straightens, a pair of boxers in hands, he turns to face you. “And then we can head to the convenience store?”

Your features must have lit up at the idea because once again he bursts out laughing, nodding his head. You wish him a good shower before hurrying back to your laptop, renewed energy filling your entire being at Jungkook’s idea.

You’ve been doing that once a week, since you got here. Impromptu convenience store dates in the middle of the night, to go eat ramen whenever you have a craving. It’s been helping with settling in, lessening the expectations of always having to cook whenever you get hungry.

Though you don’t cook as much as you did back home, because Jungkook is keen on cooking most meals. You won’t complain – his cooking has always been far better than yours, and you’d rather clean the dishes over having to prepare a meal anyway.

You’ve been good at living together. It helps that you’ve lived together for years before, but some tiny, dark part of you was afraid that, with you being together a lot more, you’d struggle with getting along. But then again you’ve never really fought with Jungkook in your relationship before, except when it came to long distance. You both know that sometimes the other just needs a little space, and you’re both good at giving it to the other.

You’ve yet to make friends here in Seoul. Jungkook met another photographer – a certain Kim Mingyu you haven’t met – and he’s been going out to grab a beer with the guy once a week since you’ve been here, mostly after they’ve photographed together for a day. You’re supposed to meet the guy next week, as Jungkook suggested inviting him over, and you’ve been excited.

You’ve been excited to be a part of Jungkook’s life here in Seoul. And though it does take a lot of adjustment, especially with your Korean not being the best, being here with him has been a blessing.

You finish what you had to do, fingers dancing on the keyboard as you type the report you had to write for Monday morning. Jungkook is already out of the shower by the time you’re done, and he lounges on the couch while waiting for you, scrolling through his phone as Bam settles down between his legs, always one to cuddle with Jungkook whenever he gets the opportunity.

Without Jungkook noticing, you snap a picture of him. He looks comfy, like this. Like you were always meant to make your way to the other side of the world with him, so that you can admire his glow under this different sun.

The picture is sweet. You don’t hesitate before putting it as your phone background, and then you turn off your computer, stretching before getting up. Jungkook watches you carefully, and he pushes himself up once you’ve taken a few steps towards him. Bam sighs deeply, a clear indication that he’s annoyed he’s been moved, but then he settles in a roll on the corner of the couch, eyes fluttering shut as soon as he’s readjusted his position.

“You look beautiful,” Jungkook compliments you as you stop between his legs.

He grabs the back of your thighs to pull you closer, and you gently rest your hands on his shoulders as he tilts his head back.

“Thank you,” you whisper, cheeks turning pink. “You look good too.”

“Just good?”

You don’t miss the hint of teasing in his voice, but you don’t bite. “Yeah, just good.”

He frowns, letting go of your thighs, right as you burst out laughing. You smooth the lines of his frown with the pad of your thumbs, and then you lean down to press a soft kiss on his lips.

“You look heavenly,” you whisper against him.

If only he knew that you’re not even kidding. Because to you Jungkook is an angel fallen to Earth, meant to guide you to your salvation. He’s always felt like that, even when you were young and dumb and struggling to figure out what love is.

Now you know that love is the twinkle shining in his big doe eyes, and the curve of his lips as he smiles at you.

“That’s better.”

You roll your eyes, patting his cheek as you pull away. “Let’s go.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He springs to his feet, big hand immediately finding yours so that he can tug you towards the door. You let him do it, appreciating the warmth of his palm in yours. And even when you finally make your way outside, the soft breeze of the night makes you step just a little closer to him, so that his body heat can keep you warm.

You glance at him. In the gentle glow of the streetlights, Jungkook looks ethereal, like he really is an angel. You wouldn’t even be surprised if he’d grow wings and start flying, yet the thought makes you giggle.

Jungkook furrows his brow, glancing at you. “What’s got you laughing?”

You shrug. “Nothing.”

He pouts, though doesn’t press you for more. Instead, he tilts his head towards the sky, sighing softly. “The moon is pretty tonight.”

She indeed is. Full and bright, the moon shines through the clouds up above, endlessly. Like the love between you and him – endless, in the way that it’ll always shine, even in the darkest of nights. Even in the nights apart it shone, never-ending.

“It is,” you agree.

He pulls you closer, and your steps falter as he rests his free hand on your hip. “Can I kiss you?”

You don’t have time to reply before he’s leaning down, pressing his pink lips against yours. You smile in the kiss, let him dip you down as his lips grow firmer against you, and then he straightens and pulls away to leave a peck on your forehead.

“What was that for?” you ask, though you’re not complaining.

“I just love you so damn much,” he says as an explanation.

And, truly, there’s no better explanation in the world. Especially not tonight.

You reach the stairs that lead to the convenience store, and you mentally prepare yourself for the trek. It’s something you’ve been doing quite a lot, here in Seoul, as the city if full of winding staircases that leave you fighting for your life. You once told Jungkook that you don’t need to go to the gym anymore, because clearly just a walk is enough to keep you healthy.

He told you you’re adorable before kissing the top of your head, and that was that.

“Ready?” he asks.

You purse your lips. “Carry me?”

One of his eyebrows raises in a perfect arch. “You’re entirely capable of walking up there yourself.”

“Please?”

He lets go of your hand before starting the trek alone. “No.”

You curse under your breath, though you quickly jog to meet him on the stairs. “You’re boring.”

“I’m the one with a fucked-up leg,” he deadpans, side-eyeing you.

Your eyes go wide as your mouth falls open, and Jungkook bursts out laughing. “That was low.”

“But it’s true.”

You roll your eyes, though you don’t say anything else as you’re starting to get winded from the stairs. Instead, you look up, and you want to cry as you see you’re barely halfway there.

As if he sensed your unease, Jungkook grabs your hand in his again and, just like that, you feel like you could climb a thousand staircases, as long as it’s by his side.

Jungkook gently guides you to the convenience store when you reach the top, letting you sit down while he goes around to prepare the ramen for you and him. He knows the one you like, and to your surprise he comes back with a banana flavoured frozen drink too, that he claims is for sharing.

“Sharing, huh?” you tease as he takes a long sip.

He narrows his eyes. “If you chug it before I come back I’m not cooking ramen for you anymore.”

“As if that’s even hard to do!” you say in his back as he walks away so that he can prepare his own ramen cup. He flips you off over his shoulder, which just makes you burst out laughing.

You’re lucky you’re mostly alone in the convenience store, because you’re pretty sure you’d get weird glances right now. Though you don’t really care about that – people have already been staring a lot just because you are a foreigner. It’s not something you mind usually, especially not when Jungkook is with you.

“You could have started without me,” Jungkook scolds you as he sits next to you, a couple of minutes later.

“Just wanted to wait for you.” You shrug your shoulders. “And I just took a tiny sip of the drink.”

“Good girl,” Jungkook teases, and you push him playfully before you both start eating, falling in a comfortable silence.

The convenience store is an oasis of light in the night. You look outside as you eat, and apart from the leaves in the trees out front, nothing moves. It feels as if you’ve stepped in an entire other universe – your forgotten space – along with Jungkook, and it feels right.

Everything is right in the world tonight, you can’t help to think.

“How was the shoot?” you ask him as he’s munching on a kimbap.

He swallows, glancing towards you before he replies, “It went well. Mingyu got better shots than I did though.”

“I’m sure yours were good too.”

He shrugs his shoulders, taking another bite. “My pictures are always good.”

You laugh lightly, shaking your head as you eat. “Ever so the humble one, are you?”

He nods forcefully, a dumb grin gracing his lips. “Always.”

The conversation doesn’t go further, as you finish eating while looking at the world outside. You watch the leaves dance, and the sight is invigorating as it is, so much so that, the moment you step outside, you grab Jungkook’s hand to force him to a halt.

“What?” he asks.

“Do you want to dance?”

His eyes fill with warmth, galaxies of swirling emotions as he faces you fully. He doesn’t even answer, instead grabbing your other hand to place it on his shoulder. You gaze up at him, observe the calm infinity of his eyes as he does the same with your own gaze. You’re locked together like this, like you often are, and the soft breeze of the night is a gentle caress on your features as Jungkook leads you in a slow dance.

“I’m so happy to be here,” you whisper.

He leans closer, resting his forehead against yours. “It feels like a dream come true.”

Eyes fluttering shut, you precise, “It is a dream coming true.”

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling, mostly because you are smiling too. A soft curve of your lips that’s meant just for him, that just his heart would ever be able to understand.

Up above, constellations shy away from the glow of the moon. But they look down at you, sighing gently at the entwine lovers dancing on a lost street of a big city, unaware of the world around them.

And you truly feel unaware. You just slowly dance with Jungkook, heartbeats in sync, uncaring that the world could end. Because, if the end was to come now, you’d die happy.

The eternity of this moment stretches, as you breathe the same air as Jungkook. His warm breath fans your features lightly, and when he pulls away just enough to kiss the top of your head, you melt against him. Wrap your arms around his waist, hold him so close to you that you fuse into just one.

Jungkook’s heart is beating fast in his chest when you rest your ear against him, and you tilt your head back, eyebrow cocked in question.

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” you ask.

You notice the anxious pull of his piercing from the corner of your eye. “Because I’m with you.”

You pull away enough to be able to look at his features properly. In the silver glow of the moon and the neon light of the streetlights, he looks as if his skin is made of starlight. He’s shining, for you, and his eyes gently dance on your features before he takes a step back.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

The moment he drops down on one knee, your eyes go wide and fill with tears.

“We’ve had a lot of hurdles, especially in the last few years,” he starts. “But all along my love for you has just been growing, and it’s grown so much that sometimes I think you’re the reason why my heart even beats.”

A small jewelry box appears in his hand, and for some reason you just now notice that he’s wearing on his ring finger the gold band you bought for him last year. You have no idea when he’s got it adjusted, only know that he had been wearing it on a chain around his neck this whole time.

He wasn’t wearing it this morning.

“When you asked me to marry you, I said it was better to wait,” he continues. “To wait until we’d proven to each other that we were into this for life, and frankly I think we’ve proven that eight years ago. Because that first night I saw you again, at the bar?” He waits for you to nod before he continues, “I think I already knew. I already knew that you were the one I was going to spend the rest of my life with, but I was just too stupid to realize.”

He’s choking up on emotions. A tear rolls on his cheek, at the same time as one escapes the confines of your eye. You laugh a choking sound from the lump in your throat, stepping closer to him so that you can wipe his cheek dry.

“I love you,” he adds. “So, so much. More than I’ve ever loved anything in the world.” He pauses, holds your gaze for your small eternity, and then concludes, “Y/n, will you marry me?”

You nod your head forcefully, laughing wildly as tears start falling freely on your cheeks. You don’t trust your words to answer, but he understands.

Of course he does.

So he gets up, laughing too, his shaking fingers gently pulling the ring out of the box so that he can put it on your finger. The size fits you perfectly, and you take a moment to admire the ring. The gem shines softly in the light, and you bring your hand closer to your face to observe it through your tears. You recognize an opal, and you let out a small laugh as you notice the band in and of itself is rose gold, a colour you’d told Jungkook you loved years ago. And then your brows furrow, because the ring is similar. You feel like you’ve seen it somewhere, but you can’t quite pinpoint where.

That’s when Jungkook continues.

“I’ve bought this ring in the fourth year of our relationship,” he says. “You showed it to me, saying that you didn’t want a conventional ring if we ever got married, and I bought it the next day. I carried it with me for a long time after, but then with the long distance starting…” He doesn’t have to finish this sentence for you to understand. “I’ve been carrying it again since the day you said you’d come to Seoul with me, and I was just waiting for the perfect occasion to propose.”

“I can’t wait to marry you,” you say then, finally finding words. “I can’t wait to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. To grow old and grey and grumpy with you.” At that he laughs. “I can’t wait for every single day I’ll get to spend with you. For every time we’ll dance in the dead of night, for every time I’ll see your eyes and remember what it is to love and to be loved.” You pause, heart swelling in your chest with all the feelings for him. “I love you so much,” you murmur, a conclusion to the story that started years ago.

He laughs, and then grabs your face to pull you into an emotional kiss, that tastes both of your tears and his, and of the love shared. It’s sweeter than honey, and it holds the weight of all the years between you and him, though they are light. Light as feathers, each of them gracing the wings of your love for him in just the right way.

“I love you too,” he says. “I love you more than the stars.”

You kiss him again. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

With a shrug, he holds you close to him. “Ask them. I think the stars have always known that we were meant to be together.”

Up above, a shooting star crosses the sky, winking at the two of you, in confirmation that yes, the heavenly night sky always knew. It always knew where the end was for you and Jungkook.

And it still knows that you’ve got years and years ahead of you, before the end takes you in its gentle hold of eternity. Before you go forgotten, to only be remembered by the wind and the twinkle of the stars at night.

The cataclysm that started years ago eases, and the universe sighs in relief, as two souls finally meld into one, the way that they were always supposed to. One day, they’ll be stardust, but for now… For now all that’s left for them to do is love.

☆☆☆☆☆

Am I crying, finishing this? Yes I am. Happy tears, obvi, and I hope you guys have a lot of happy tears for this couple as well :') tell me what you thought of the chapter! Was it good, when the end came for these two? Do we like where they ended up? I think it befits them so well <3

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when the end comes ch 5 when the end comes my bb ella

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jessikahathaway

1 year ago

Ahhhhh I’m so excited to read this!!! Everyone, please go give my bb Ella some love on her new chapter 🤍✨

Sinful Lust | ch 4 (myg & jjk)

☆summary: Jungkook has been living his life like he's riding a car, and he sees a wall looming closer. Will he hit, or will he find a way to avoid the collision?

☆pairing: bisexual boyfriend!Yoongi x female!reader x Jungkook

☆rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

☆genre: mostly smut, angst, snippets of life!au

☆warnings: cursing, jealousy, a flashback to how it all started five years ago, alcohol, mention of social anxiety, some sort of cheating?, explicit content: unprotected sex, jerking off, tied hands/bondage ish?, oral sex (male and female receiving, male on male, male on female), face riding, mouth fucking, choking, hair pulling, anal sex, cumshot, protected sex, sexting, nudes, a side of degradation?, facetime sex, ass slapping, guided sex, creampie

☆word count: 8.6k

☆a/n: Jungkook pov time babyyy! I hope you will love it <3 Thank you @moonleeai as always for beta-ing this fic <3

☆a/n pt2: I do not own BTS or any of the members. I do not know what they are like irl (I do not claim to know their personalities, sexual orientations, beliefs, etc.). This fic is just a work of fiction, so please keep that in mind while reading

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

Each time he’s with you and Yoongi, Jungkook has a hard time figuring out why, or how. Especially right now, as he lies under you while you fuck yourself on him.

He watches your breasts as they bounce on your chest, watches the light sheen on your skin from your sweat. Yoongi is jerking off next to Jungkook, and he can’t help but glance at that too – Yoongi’s frowning, mouth slightly open as he grips his cock hard, pumping fast.

Your walls clench around Jungkook’s dick, and he returns his attention to you as he grunts and you let out a moan, bending forward to rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage. Jungkook lets you do it, though he tugs at his restraints, his cock twitching as his hands are held back in place.

It was Yoongi’s idea to tie him up. At the mischief lighting up your gaze, Jungkook hadn’t been able to say no, and frankly, he doesn’t think he regrets his decision.

It started with Yoongi sucking his dick while you sat on his face, and Jungkook can still taste your sleek juice in his mouth. It’s inebriating, and he thinks he’s drunk – or perhaps he’s just swimming in ecstasy. Even if Yoongi fucked his mouth after that.

Jungkook doesn’t particularly enjoy the bisexual action he’s been partaking in with you and Yoongi. He doesn’t dislike it, but he doesn’t feel any sexual attraction to it. He doesn’t think he would touch Yoongi if it wasn’t for your begging eyes. But whenever you look at him, whenever you tell him to do something, Jungkook folds, unable to tell you no.

He’s convinced Yoongi’s caught up to it, yet it seems you’re still lost in the fog of oblivion. Or maybe the three of you are just too good at pretending that it’s not there, that he didn’t say yes to this whole ordeal just because he gets to fuck you.

You clench again, this time moaning his name, and Jungkook has the visceral need to pull you flush to his chest so that he can thrust into you just like he likes. Tugging at the restraints proves to be useless, and he lets out a frustrated groan even as you pick up your pace, visibly chasing your orgasm.

It’s hot. It’s fucking hot and Jungkook feels his balls tighten, though he reins it in – he’s not going to come yet.

Your right hand shifts to his neck, and then you’re choking him, though your up-and-down motion grows sloppy, as if you have trouble focusing. And you barely choke him – you were just looking for leverage, he assumes.

“Bend down,” he tells you. “Fucking bend down, I’ll make you come.”

At his words Yoongi grabs a handful of Jungkook’s hair, forcing his head back. But you do bend down, and Jungkook braces his feet on the mattress so that he can fuck into you. He sets a relentless pace, meeting Yoongi’s gaze as you moan into his neck.

Perhaps that will be enough to make him come after all. Because he knows your Yoongi’s. Knows he’ll never have you any other way. But when you cling to him like you are doing right now, Jungkook likes to believe that you’re his, too.

He knows you’re coming the moment your orgasm crashes into you, and he doesn’t relent, doesn’t slow down. You moan against his skin, and Yoongi pulls on his hair harder, and Jungkook thinks maybe he’s coming too.

He keeps it in at the last second, his balls hurting from the denied orgasm. But he doesn’t want to come in such a subdued position – he’ll fucking ride you until you cry from the pleasure before.

He slows down, and you slump against him, your sweaty skin feeling like heaven against his. He’s still looking at Yoongi, who’s still pumping his cock hard, though he finally lets go of Jungkook’s hair. Nothing happens for a moment, until you raise your head from his neck, and then Jungkook meets your gaze.

Your cheeks are flushed red, your pupils are blown wide and you look so fucked out he feels his dick twitch inside of you. At that you moan again, and the pain in his balls increases even more because fucking hell does he need to come soon.

You smirk. You smirk and Jungkook thinks he’ll go insane. Especially as you push up from him, and then his dick leaves your velvety walls as you move to the side. You grab his cock, jerking him slowly, and Jungkook looks down at himself.

He’s covered in your juice. You came on him – a lot – and now you’re using it as lubrication to jerk him off and he doesn’t know right from left and up from down anymore. He’s insane – you’ve brought him right to the land of insanity.

“Gosh,” you let out, and he focuses on your face again, though you go in and out of focus as his orgasm is still so close. “I’ve soaked your dick so much you could fuck Yoons like that.”

The orgasm recedes, and Jungkook remembers that he’s not alone with you. That Yoongi is here, and he’s been deprived of attention for a while. Jungkook does feel bad about it a little, but then again, your hand on his dick just feels too good.

Yoongi murmurs your name, adding, “Don’t push his boundaries.”

You bite your lips, holding Jungkook’s gaze with a searing look in your eyes. “Would you fuck his ass if I ride your face again?”

Jungkook is at a loss for words. Especially as you bend down and spit on his dick, adding lubrication to his already soaked cock.

He thinks you’re jerking Yoongi off too now, because Yoongi groans and you let out a small laugh.

“I fucking love having the two of you for myself,” you say.

And that’s when Jungkook knows he’ll say yes. He doesn’t even care that it’s Yoongi’s ass as Yoongi sinks on him a minute later. All he’s looking at is you, and Yoongi’s ass is so fucking tight Jungkook thinks he might not get to fuck you into oblivion after all.

Yoongi moves up and down, slowly, and Jungkook grunts as you wrap your hand around his neck, choking him again. And then you force him to look at Yoongi, who’s got his head thrown back and dick so hard Jungkook feels like Yoongi’s going to come on him in just a few strokes.

You’re the one that reaches out to grab Yoongi’s dick, and you start jerking your boyfriend off as he keeps fucking himself on Jungkook. Jungkook watches, unable to do anything else, and when Yoongi’s ass clenches on his dick Jungkook closes his eyes.

He doesn’t want to see Yoongi coming on him. Doesn’t want to think about the fact he’s got a man on his dick right now, and not you. He just wants to feel how fucking tight it is, and how the drag on his dick is so sinful he knows he will come.

He’s turned on. He’s so fucking turned on by the tightness of Yoongi’s ass that he pulls at the restraints, once again trying to take control. But he can’t. He can’t, yet Yoongi bends forward somehow, and Jungkook’s mind fills with so much ecstasy from the new angle that all he can think to do is to start hammering his hips into his friend.

He comes first. He comes as he’s fucking Yoongi so hard everything hurts, and then Yoongi is coming on him, while you praise the two of them. Jungkook almost forgot that you were there, but then when he opens his eyes, it’s you that he sees first.

Perhaps because Yoongi’s hiding his face in his neck, just like you were doing earlier. And seeing you so close makes Jungkook’s orgasm linger, his dick twitching in Yoongi.

You bend down, catching Jungkook’s mouth in a languid kiss, and he kisses you back with everything in his chest, not caring that he emptied his balls in your boyfriend just a moment ago. Not when you kiss him like that – like every swipe of your tongue on his is a hidden message, of feelings shared even though they shouldn’t be.

Yoongi moves away from Jungkook as you’re still kissing him, and Jungkook tries to hold you, to cup your cheeks, but his hands still don’t move from where Yoongi tied them up. He pushes his tongue in your mouth still, lapping you up, and right when he thinks he’ll die from the lack of oxygen, you pull away from the kiss.

It takes Jungkook a moment to realize that Yoongi is gone. You’re looking towards the door, and Jungkook is still just watching you, and something hurts in his chest. He clears his throat to push it away, which gains him your attention again.

“Can you untie me?” he asks, voice still a little scrappy from when Yoongi fucked his mouth earlier.

You nod, and he notices you gulping. Something’s wrong. Something definitely is wrong between you and Yoongi, and Jungkook feels sick and twisted for it.

“Sorry,” you apologize as he mindlessly massages his shoulders, which started to ache a while ago from staying in that position for so long.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook tells you, and then he glances at his stomach. At his dick, that’s softening on his pelvis.

He’s covered in cum. Both his and Yoongi’s, and even yours from before all that. The sight nearly makes him gag, and he motions to the box of tissues on the night table.

“Can you pass me these?” he asks.

You don’t answer, though you grab a handful of tissues. Jungkook makes to grab them from your hands, but you start cleaning him up. He almost gulps from the attention, from the care in each of your motions, but he focuses on looking towards the door.

He doesn’t even know if he wants Yoongi to come back. Just that it feels weird that Yoongi left so quickly.

“Is something wrong?” you ask him, and he frowns, looking back towards you.

“No,” he answers. And though he doesn’t want to pry, he returns the question to you.

You finish cleaning his stomach before you move to his dick, and it feels a little strange to have a serious conversation with you while you’re cleaning up his dick, but then again, his entire relationship with you is weird.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I guess.” You shrug. “He doesn’t tell me how he feels anymore.”

You look so sad saying the words that Jungkook feels his heart breaking in his chest. He’s been expecting this since the very first time he had sex with you though. The moment when it’d create a wedge between you and Yoongi, or between Yoongi and him.

“Oh,” he lets out. He chews on his lower lip, tongue darting out to play with his piercing. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders again. “Don’t be.” You fall silent, eyes trailing to the doorway. You take a deep breath, and then softly let it out, shaking your head slightly. “Let me just go talk to him.”

Jungkook remains silent as you get up, and he looks away from you as you put on your clothes. And he feels far too awkward staying in your bed without you and Yoongi, so he gets up too, grabbing his clothes. He puts them on quickly, feeling the need to leave as fast as he can.

He’ll hate himself if your relationship goes to hell because of him.

So he puts everything on and then tiptoes to the front door. He curses himself when he has one of his shoes on – he left his motorcycle helmet in the kitchen. He glances in that direction – is that where you and Yoongi are?

He doesn’t want to interrupt a conversation between his friend and you.

But he needs the helmet. Can’t drive his motorcycle without it. So he kicks off his shoe, before walking towards the kitchen, slowly, even though it is entirely silent. He passes in front of the bathroom on the way, and there, he hears voices from behind the closed door. Muffled and low, clearly meant for you and Yoongi only, so Jungkook moves away, towards his helmet that he can now see on the counter.

He grabs it, spins on his heels to head back to the door, but he startles at the sight of Yoongi standing there.

“Oh, hyung,” is all Jungkook can think to say.

“You’re leaving?” Yoongi asks.

Jungkook’s gaze widens, not really knowing how to reply. “Uh…” He gulps. “I figured it would be better to leave you and Y/n alone…”

Yoongi nods, sighing, and his eyes close momentarily before he looks at Jungkook again. “Sorry about this.”

“About what?” Jungkook asks, and he feels stupid for the question, but it just slipped out on its own.

“Making things awkward,” Yoongi explains. “I guess… I guess I should have asked that you guys don’t…” He stops speaking again, and this time he scratches the back of his head. Jungkook remains silent, giving Yoongi space to collect his thoughts. When he finally does, Yoongi says, “I don’t like you guys kissing like that? I told Y/n, and we’re going to add it to the ground rules.”

Jungkook’s heart squeezes in his chest, yet he still nods, not wanting to hurt his older friend. Especially considering that Jungkook is the guest in this whole scenario, and not Yoongi.

“That sounds good to me,” Jungkook answers, even if every word pains him. “I’ll stop.”

“And the pet names too,” Yoongi adds. “Don’t call her baby.”

There’s possessiveness in Yoongi’s tone, and Jungkook bristles a little, though he forces himself to nod. “Sure. I’m…” he trails off, eyes falling to a spot on the floor between him and Yoongi. “I’m sorry.”

And he does feel apologetic. Guilty, even. But you’ve become a drug that he can’t get enough of, and if he has to stop doing these things to be able to still get a taste of you, then he will.

“Don’t be,” Yoongi says, and he sounds reassuring. Far more than Jungkook expected him to be in the situation. “Don’t ever feel sorry. We invited you in our relationship. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me for not setting my boundaries more clearly.”

At that Jungkook feels jealousy taking shape inside of him. Because Yoongi will get to kiss you, to hold you, to be yours when Jungkook will always just be the guest. But the kisses and pet names allowed him to pretend that, for just a short period of time, you were his. And now he has to let them go, to let the feeling of your lips against his be just a memory. It hurts somehow, which he reckons is stupid.

He doesn’t usually get attached to the women he fucks. But you’re different.

You’ve been different since the day he met you.

“If you want to stay for the night, you can,” Yoongi says in the silence that was stretching to the point of awkwardness. “Guest room is yours, as always.”

And though he usually always stays the night, Jungkook feels the need to be alone. To ride his bike, to eat the road and feel the wind and forget about his thoughts for a moment. So he declines the offer, feeling strange as Yoongi walks him to the door.

He wishes you’d come say goodbye, but you’re in the shower from the sounds of it. He feels guilty for leaving like this, but then again, the night sky and the streetlights are awaiting outside, and it’s going to be much needed therapy.

“Thanks for the invitation,” Jungkook says once his shoes are on and he’s checked his pockets to make sure he has everything.

“Of course,” Yoongi answers, flashing a strained smile.

Jungkook wants to ask if his friend is okay. If he wants to stop this madness altogether, but he can’t bring himself to ask.

It’s like he’s watching a car crash into a wall, or the moments before the accident. He knows it’s about to happen, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“We’ll let you know when we want to see you again,” Yoongi adds when Jungkook just stays standing there.

The dismissal is clear, and Jungkook nods his head once before wishing good night to his friend. Yoongi tells him to drive safe and text him when he’ll get home, which Jungkook knows he won’t do.

Perhaps because he knows he won’t go home for a while still.

And he doesn’t. He rides in the night, aimlessly, going out of the city with only the moon high above as company. His bike roars like a beast under him, eating mile after mile until trees replace concrete, until he has to stop at a small gas station that looks straight out of a horror movie to fill the tank. The weather outside has been growing warmer, but the night is cold, and the moon has been lowering on the horizon, replaced by a sea of distant stars, each of them sparkling with all the might of their own little world.

If only you knew what you mean to him. But you’re like the stars up above – out of reach, for the eternity of life. And though he’d wished to be an astronaut when he was a kid, Jungkook knows he’ll never get to sail in the sky above, to meet you in outer space meant to belong to you and him. Not to you and Yoongi.

The thought has him climbing on his bike again, and it roars back to life as he turns the key in the engine. A second later he’s back on the road, and he doesn’t even care about where he’s going. Doesn’t even care that he might get lost, because he’s felt lost for weeks anyway.

With the wind and the stars as his lone companions, Jungkook rides through the night, seeking salvation. Seeking to forget he ever said yes, to forget that the second he felt you on his dick, he knew no one else would ever compare to you.

But he’s always felt this way. The night sky is too pretty to dwell in memories though, and Jungkook stops where the road meets the sea, only to listen to the waves hitting the shore like they’re keen on forming their own melody. It’s different than the one of wind in his ear, yet it’s peaceful.

Everything but his heart seems peaceful in the night. So he breathes the saline air in, lets the mist from the waves hitting the rocks cool his features, and with eyes shut Jungkook takes everything in.

And when peace finally finds his heart too, somewhere between his inhales and exhales, Jungkook climbs back on the motorcycle and heads home.

*****

If there’s someone Jungkook knows he can talk to, it’s Namjoon. His older friend, brother, a calm presence in his life whom he’s sought the help of countless times in the past. Whenever his blood ran cold or hot from fights he won or lost in the past, whenever things don’t quite work out the way he’d hoped them too, Jungkook always knows Namjoon will be there for him.

So when Namjoon invites him over to his art gallery for a small gala he’s hosting for charity, Jungkook says yes. Because he knows he’ll likely be the only one of the friend group invited, mostly because he is some sort of a celebrity to begin with. And though he doesn’t mind people knowing him for his boxing career, he also doesn’t want to just be seen as this brute that only knows how to punch other people.

Namjoon knows it, and understands it all too well. Perhaps because he was a boxer once too before he turned into an artist.

So Jungkook dons a nice outfit, a black all-denim jean and jacket combo that he was given while shooting for Calvin Klein again a couple of weeks ago. He knows he’s going to stand out in the crowd of nicely-dressed art enthusiasts, but he doesn’t care.

Maybe if he stands out enough, he’s going to attract the attention of someone that can make him forget you riding his dick like you only have one night left on this Earth.

As soon as he gets to the gallery, Jungkook heads in, motorcycle helmet in hand. He aims for Namjoon’s office, which he knows the lock password of, and he leaves his helmet there before heading into the gallery proper.

He assesses the room for a moment, anxiety spiking in his blood at the sight of so many people crowded in a place that seems like it’s about to burst. He’s not surprised – Namjoon is a renowned painter now, and rich people flock to him like moths to a flame hoping that they would get the chance to buy one of his pieces.

Jungkook stays by the door, hands in the pockets of his jeans as he scans the gallery, trying to figure out if anyone would be worth his attention. He notices a woman that looks about his age, if not a little older. She’s wearing a red dress that enhances her curves beautifully, and her long hair cascades down her back as she turns towards him, a knowing smile on her lips. Jungkook returns the smile and he’s about to head her way when Namjoon comes into his vision.

“JK!” Namjoon lets out, happily clasping his shoulder. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Jungkook watches the girl as she winces, but then she turns away, walking towards where a group of rich sons are speaking. Maybe she’s here as the date of one of them. Jungkook reckons he doesn’t care because, frankly, even donned in that expensive dress she doesn’t look half as good as you look wearing just a t-shirt.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook returns, forcing his disappointment away, along with the feelings you always bring up in him. “This place is about to burst.”

“I didn’t expect so many people to show up for the charity,” Namjoon admits as he too scans the room. “But it’s all for the better!” He grabs two glasses of champagne from a server passing by, handing one to Jungkook. “We better drink before it starts because it promises to be long.”

Jungkook nods, clinking his glass with Namjoon’s before taking a long sip. The golden liquid bubbles in his mouth, and though Jungkook prefers whiskey, he does enjoy the taste as it slips in his throat.

“Got a lot of pieces on auction tonight?” he enquires as his friend knocks back the whole glass, never one to entertain a glass of champagne for more than a few seconds.

Namjoon wipes his mouth with the back of a hand, nodding curtly. “Five. The rest were provided by promising artists from the community.”

Before they can say more, a group of people approaches them, and Jungkook forces himself to participate in the conversation, offering them smiles and nods and a word here and there. It goes like this for a while, until someone ushers the room into silence so that the charity can properly start.

Jungkook slides to the back of the room, fishing a flask from an inner pocket of his jacket. He takes a swig of it, the strong taste of whiskey washing away the taste from the champagne he drank before. It’s a thankful respite, and Jungkook finds an empty wall to lean against as the auction starts.

It takes all of six minutes before the red-dress girl heads his way, meeting him away from the rest of the crowd.

“You’re not going to auction?” she asks as an introduction.

Jungkook shrugs, flashing her a smile. “Are you?”

She chuckles, and it lights up her eyes prettily. “I don’t think I’m here for this kind of prize.”

And just like that Jungkook knows exactly in what category she belongs. It might be harsh of him, but he recognizes her for what she is – someone that’s only trying to climb the social ladder, hoping that being a socialite might bring happiness into her life.

He might not have a lot of money to offer her, but for a night…

They’re fucking in the bathroom before he’s actually had the time to think this through. The condom on his dick feels like hell, keeping most of the sensations away, and she doesn’t feel quite as tight as you always do. As Yoongi’s ass did… Yet Jungkook only pushes her head down in the sink, watching how she’s grasping onto the edges of it, moaning unabashedly loud. The bathroom is far enough from the auction that Jungkook isn’t afraid to be heard, but he still puts his hand on her mouth, stifling her sounds.

And though he does find release, he realizes that it’s more of the haunting kind. As if his balls are still full, the ecstasy shying away from him. It only leaves him with a bitter aftertaste in mouth, and he declines the girl’s invitation to a hotel nearby.

As he watches her leave, he realizes that he doesn’t even know her name. And he doesn’t care for it. All that he cares for is to return to the auction, which thankfully is almost over. He listens to it in a daze, hoping that people can’t tell he just fucked someone, hoping that they can’t see the ghosts haunting him.

Namjoon sees them the moment the auction ends, and Jungkook tries to slip away in the night. Indeed, his older friend catches him in the office as he goes to retrieve his helmet, much like Yoongi had caught him that night when he’d established new boundaries.

“I hope you’re not leaving right away,” Namjoon says as he heads to a decanter on a small table by a bookshelf. “Just sold a piece for a billion won, and I need someone to celebrate with me.”

“This is hardly the first time you’ve sold a piece for that amount of money,” Jungkook reminds his friend, but he still puts the helmet down, heading for the leather seat on one side of the desk.

Namjoon pours whiskey in two crystal glasses, handing one to Jungkook before he sits on the other side. “I still never get used to it. Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course, man,” Jungkook answers.

He takes a sip of the whiskey, a much more expensive one than the one that’s hidden in the flask in the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Something’s been troubling you,” Namjoon comments after a small silence of both of them appreciating the whiskey. Jungkook remains silent, not knowing what to say. After a while, Namjoon says, “I invited Taehyung and Seokjin, but they were caught up at the restaurant.”

Seokjin’s restaurant. Where Taehyung and his jazz band play every now and then, offering live music to the patrons, and helping Taehyung get a good amount of listens on Spotify. Because Taehyung’s voice is smooth velvet, and Jungkook already can see his friend climbing the ladder to success.

“What about Hobi?” he can’t help but ask.

“His girlfriend was super sick, and he asked if I minded him staying with her.”

Jungkook thinks about Ryunah, and he makes a mental note to send a text to Hoseok later to make sure that the girl is okay. Because she’s his friend too – Hoseok has been dating her for so long that she’s become an integral part of the friend group too.

“And Yoongi said it was going to be too many people,” Namjoon adds.

Jungkook immediately bristles at the mention of Yoongi, and Namjoon cocks an eyebrow, never one to miss anything. Jungkook tries to play it cool by taking a swig of whiskey, but he highly doubts that it works.

“Yoongi is an introvert,” he says carefully.

Namjoon purses his lips, nodding once. “Are you still…”

He’s told Namjoon after the first time it happened. In a situation much like this one, though a lot more alcohol had been involved. So much that Jungkook had ended up spending the night on the couch of Namjoon’s loft, which lies on the third floor of this building.

“Once in a while,” Jungkook says, and he hates how his voice is clipped.

He knows he wears his emotions on his sleeve for all to see, and fuck he hates it.

“How has that been going?” Namjoon carefully asks.

Jungkook winces. He knows he can’t escape the truth, especially not when he’s speaking to Namjoon. “It’s fun. It really is, but I think it’s driving Yoongi and Y/n apart.”

“And what about you and Yoongi?”

Jungkook gulps, eyes falling to the desk between him and his friend. He doesn’t really know how to answer that question: he’s always seen Yoongi like a reliable older brother, someone that offers a helping hand when he needs it, but now he doesn’t feel like Yoongi would be inclined to help him all that much anymore.

Then again perhaps that’s not giving his friend enough credit. Because Yoongi knows about Jungkook’s crush on you, has known since the very first day, and he’s still been a good friend to Jungkook. Even if that very first night, Jungkook believed that you were meant to be his.

Some foolish, stupid part of him will always believe it.

*****

Five years ago

The bar is filled to the brim with people who’d come to watch the Olympics on the big screens. Jungkook is squeezed in one corner, Namjoon sitting so close to him he’s been trying to mold himself into the wall to try to get some air. It’s not Namjoon’s fault – the bar really is too crowded, and they’ve been lucky that they’ve found a place to sit amidst the chaos.

Yoongi is seated across from Jungkook, Taehyung next to him, and Seokjin and Hoseok went to get a new pitcher of beer at the bar. Jungkook glances in that direction, trying to see his friends. They aren’t there, probably headed to the toilet first, yet Jungkook’s gaze catches on something. Or rather on someone.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone as beautiful as you. Maybe he’s still concussed from his latest fight, though he was the one to come out of it as the victor. Had been the one to win every fight for a while, he reckons.

But you’re an angel brought to life. Beautiful hair framing your face, big eyes taking in the bar as if you’re waiting for someone. From the distance it’s hard to tell the color of your eyes, yet Jungkook thinks they are boring right through his soul as you meet his gaze.

The corners of your lips stretch in a mindless smile, as if it’s a reaction, and Jungkook thinks he’s been brought down to his knees. It hits harder than an uppercut to the jaw, and he can’t help but smile back, though he feels clumsy and young and stupid.

You look away, and he thinks he stumbles forwards, thinks he’s sprawled on the floor when Yoongi says, “Should we go get that fucking pitcher ourselves? I think Jin and Hobi went for a smoke.”

Jungkook meets Yoongi’s gaze, eyes slightly widened. Yoongi cocks an eyebrow in question, immediately noticing Jungkook’s state.

“Wh- what?” Jungkook lets out.

“What’s got you stuttering?” Yoongi asks, laughing. “Got hit too hard last time?”

Jungkook frowns, though he glances over his shoulder towards you again. “There’s a girl at the bar.”

As if he understood everything by that simple sentence, Yoongi says, “So you’re looking to fuck?” It’s teasing. It really is, so Jungkook doesn’t take it as an insult when Yoongi continues, “I thought tonight was for the boys.”

Jungkook feels his cheeks burning. “No I… She looks like she’s waiting for someone.”

Yoongi moves to the side, trying to catch sight of you. He nods when he does, before looking towards Jungkook again.

“She does.”

“Would it be stupid to ask for her number?”

“Whose number?” Namjoon jumps in.

Yoongi motions towards you. “That girl.”

“She’s hot,” Taehyung answers.

“Fuck, guys stop it,” Jungkook begs, embarrassment swirling in his blood. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Just ask her for her number,” Taehyung insists.

Jungkook shakes his head, scrunching up his nose. “No, all good. Yoongi’s right, tonight is for the boys.”

“I can ask for you,” Yoongi suggests, clearly feeling a little guilty for bringing the other guys into the conversation.

“Bruh, he’s a boxer, pretty sure he can ask a girl out himself,” Taehyung jokes.

Jungkook loves Taehyung to bits, but sometimes he hates him too. Right now is one of those times. “Fuck off, Tae.”

Taehyung just grins from ear to ear, eyes bright with laughter. “Love you too.”

“Let’s just go get that pitcher,” Yoongi then says.

Taehyung whines as Yoongi pushes him, but they soon slide out of the booth. Namjoon doesn’t budge, and Jungkook watches the two other guys as they head to the bar. Taehyung says something in Yoongi’s ear, and Yoongi looks back towards them as he answers.

Though he’s far enough, Jungkook can read the ‘fuck off’ on Yoongi’s lips that makes Taehyung burst out laughing. Taehyung seems to insist, and Yoongi folds, catching Jungkook’s gaze once before nodding his head.

And then Jungkook watches them as they approach you. He’s never seen Yoongi flirt with anyone before, and he watches in horror or maybe awe as Yoongi leans against the bar next to you, saying something that prompts you to laugh, while Taehyung stands behind him to talk to the barman.

Even though the bar is crowded, Jungkook thinks he hears your laugh. It’s crystal clear, soft, and he wishes he could be in Yoongi’s spot. But he’s a shit flirter, usually only hitting on girls to fuck them. It’s always been easy to him, that part, but something about the way you carry yourself tells him that it wouldn’t work with you.

He forces himself to look away, letting out a groan. Namjoon turns his head towards him, a contemplative look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Yoongi is speaking to her,” Jungkook says, motioning over his shoulder.

Namjoon looks in that direction, and says, “And they are looking this way.”

Jungkook glances over his shoulder right away, an anxious thrill moving through his body. He catches your gaze again, though you look away immediately. He’s pretty sure you’re blushing, though you shake your head no.

Jungkook looks away, feeling disappointed because you looked embarrassed. As if him wanting to have your number is an embarrassing thing. Or maybe he’s just overthinking everything, and Yoongi didn’t even mention him.

Taehyung comes back a few minutes later with a full pitcher. “Yoongi’s still talking to that girl,” he complains as he sits down. “She said no to give you her number, by the way.”

It’s the way Taehyung says the word, as if he doesn’t give a shit about it, that prompts Jungkook to look over his shoulder again.

Indeed, you’re still speaking to Yoongi. And you look like you’re enjoying yourself, laughing and smiling as Yoongi also sports that same comfortable attitude. It’s so rare to see Yoongi like this that Jungkook feels guilty for mentioning you, for acting as if he was entitled to you earlier.

When you rest a hand on Yoongi’s forearm where it’s resting on the counter Jungkook knows that he lost this fight. Not that it was a fight to begin with, but he still feels like he lost when Yoongi doesn’t come back for a while still, only coming back to them after Seokjin and Hoseok returned too, both smelling of cigarettes.

Yoongi sits at the head of the table, and Jungkook meets his gaze. He has a piece of paper in his hand and he hands it to Jungkook, causing silence to fall at the table.

“I got it,” Yoongi says, a smile gracing his lips.

Jungkook thinks that it’s the same smile Yoongi was offering you earlier, as if it’s lingering around.

“Ah, keep it,” Jungkook replies. “You two were clearly getting along.”

Yoongi frowns slightly. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want…” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s all good,” Jungkook insists. “We never see you getting along with women, just keep it.”

“It’s because he prefers dick,” Taehyung jokes, and the table is a mixture of rolling eyes and loud laughs for a few seconds.

“Shut the fuck up,” Yoongi tells Taehyung, though his features are soft as he safely puts away your number in his wallet.

Jungkook watches the piece of paper as it disappears from view, and all he can do is just hope that he won’t regret his decision later on.

*****

The usual pain of his knuckles hitting the punching bag, of the recoil in his whole arm, is grounding. Jungkook goes through his usual routine, mind zeroing on the motions of his body, like the waves relentlessly hitting the shore. He’s just the vessel on this ocean, and each thump of his fists against the punching bag is satisfying, in ways words can’t explain.

It’s late. The world outside has gone dark, and Jungkook can see his reflection on the windows. From the corner of his eyes, he sees how precise each of his movements are, how fluid he is. Like a wave – never fully stopping, never lowering his guard. He knows this dance more than he knows how to breathe.

He started boxing when he got bullied so rough that going to school had started being dangerous to him, almost twenty years ago. Then, his small fists had barely been able to make the punching bag sway, but today he has to be careful not to let his strength go unchecked.

Yet he keeps going. The motions carry him, the 1-2-2-1 in his head a litany, like it’s a prayer to a religion only he knows. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, doesn’t slow down, a machine more than a human being.

It’s the best way to evade his feelings. To find a place of cool calm where he can just be, he can just exist, instead of having to think and feel. Because lately he’s been feeling too much.

It’s been weeks since Namjoon’s gallery show. Since Namjoon asked if a wedge was created between Yoongi and Jungkook. And though Jungkook answered with the negative, the follow-up question Namjoon asked was haunting, and he doesn’t want to think about it.

So he goes faster, hits harder. Maybe if his punches are loud enough they’ll cover the sound of his thoughts. Or maybe he should have put some music on – the sound of his clipped breathing and grunts is haunting even to his own ears.

Frustration spikes in him, and Jungkook stops, grabbing the punching bag to keep it from swinging aimlessly. He leans his forehead against it, not caring that he’s covered in sweat and that his hair is clinging to it. He takes a few long breaths, focuses on the hammering of his heart in his chest, of the blood pumping in his veins.

And then he thinks of you, he thinks of Yoongi, and he’s right where he started this evening. Under you, under Yoongi, pleasuring the both of you while he was incapable of finding his own pleasure.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did Yoongi, or Jungkook. All of you pretended that it didn’t happen. That Jungkook hasn’t come in weeks now.

He’s just unable to do it with you now. Not that he doesn’t want to – he really does, but not being able to kiss you has been playing games on his mind, and most of the time he loses his erection before he’s been able to come.

He still feels pleasure. A lot of it. Far more than he’s felt in any sexual encounters before, but he just isn’t able to reach completion anymore. He thinks, when it’ll find him, maybe he’ll thank the God above, if there’s even one.

Or maybe he should be thanking the one in hell.

He sighs as his breathing slowly returns to normal, and then pushes away from the punching bag to head to where he left his water bottle and shirt. Indeed, he’s shirtless, and he watches his reflection in the windows as he takes off his gloves, and then gulps down the water. He isn’t as ripped as he was before he retired from boxing, but he’s still toned, defined muscles creating a play of shadows and lights on his chest and stomach. He’s proud of his body – proud of the way you look at him. Proud of the way Yoongi looks at him, with lust and attraction and a side of envy. Or at least Jungkook likes to tell himself so, because he looks at Yoongi with far too much envy for it to be healthy.

He empties the water bottle, before bending down to grab his shirt. Even though he’s sweaty, Jungkook puts it on, knowing he’ll throw it in the washing machine the minute he gets home. And then he heads to his locker, where he left his motorcycle helmet and keys, switching those with the gloves he always leaves here, and a second later he’s turning off the lights to the gym, before heading outside.

He locks the door, breathing in the fresh air of early spring, and then he walks over to where his bike is parked. He’s quick to mount the motorcycle, to push the key in the ignition, and his bike purrs to life. The vibration shakes through his entire body, and then Jungkook is shooting out of the parking lot, heading home.

The streets are empty at this time of night, and Jungkook enjoys the ride, even though it’s short-lived. First thing he does when he gets home is put everything he’s wearing in the washing machine, and then he takes a really long and hot shower, hoping to erase the feeling of you and Yoongi on him.

It doesn’t work. It never fully works, and here, alone in his shower, Jungkook can’t help the lust that takes over him. Can’t help the tightening of his balls and the hardening of his dick, but he ignores it, not caring that something aches in his lower stomach from the repetitive denied orgasms.

He steps out of the shower once the water has turned cold, grabbing a towel to dry out his hair before wrapping it around his hips. He’s about to step into his walk-in, which is connected to his bedroom, when he sees his phone lighting up where he left it next to the sink.

He frowns – who would text him at this hour? – before heading to the device. His heart sinks in his chest when he sees your name, mostly because you never text him so late.

Did something happen with Yoongi?

Apparently not, Jungkook thinks. Not as he reads,

[4:57 am] You: I’m sorry about tonight

Jungkook doesn’t know what you’re apologizing for. You’re always good, so good to him. His heart has just been playing with his mind.

[4:58 am] Jungkook: why? [4:58 am] Jungkook: don’t be sorry, you were great

It doesn’t take you long to reply. Or at least to start typing a reply. Jungkook watches the three dots appearing and disappearing for almost a whole minute before your text finally comes in.

[4:59 am] You: you didn’t cum [4:59 am] Jungkook: don’t worry about it

Maybe you’re drunk, or maybe the late hour has been getting to your head much like it’s been getting to his. Because your reply makes him so hard he thinks he might actually be able to bust tonight.

[5:00 am] You: i miss feeling you cum in me

Jungkook shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose as if that would change your reply. When he opens his eyes again, he sees that it hasn’t, that you really did say that. He doesn’t really know what to make of it. So he heads to his bed, takes off the towel and lies down, fully naked and skin still wet from the shower, right in the middle of the mattress.

[5:01 am] Jungkook: you’re filthy [5:01 am] You: only for you

He’s going insane.

[5:02 am] Jungkook: are you sure you should be texting me this shit rn? [5:03 am] You: honestly Idk. yoons is sleeping next to me

Jungkook oh so wishes it was him next to you. Him that would get to fall asleep in your bed, him that would get to fuck you in the middle of the night whenever you can’t sleep.

[5:03 am] Jungkook: I don’t think you should be telling me this when he’s not with us [5:04 am] You: I know [5:04 am] You: I agree [5:04 am] You: but I haven’t been able to sleep bc I’ve been thinking about you filling me up, and it feels wrong to wake yoons up for this [5:05 am] Jungkook: maybe u should wake him up. Maybe you can ride him with your eyes closed thinking that it’s me

Jungkook starts jerking off right then and there. He feels like what he’s doing is wrong, far too wrong, but somehow, he’s aroused by the thought of you unable to sleep because of him, because you want him so desperately.

You don’t reply for a while. And he doesn’t think he deserves a reply. He knows he’ll hate himself as soon as his lust passes, if it ever does.

So he shuts his eyes. Remembers the first time he felt your walls clenching around his dick, and he squeezes himself harder to try to reproduce the feeling. Nothing compares, but you’re there, printed behind his closed eyelids, and he thinks maybe he’ll finally be able to come.

His phone vibrates, and like an addict in need of a hit he quickly grabs it where he left it on his mattress. And when he sees what you sent, he goes into a frenzy he’ll only later describe as the stupidest moment of his life.

You sent him a nude. He can’t see your face, but your lips are on full display, your breasts the centerpiece of the picture. Your nipples are perked prettily, as if just begging for him to suck on them, and he squeezes his dick so hard it actually fucking hurts.

He doesn’t hesitate. He takes a picture of himself that he sends to you, the tip of his dick leaking with precum.

[5:09 am] Jungkook: I’m so fkg hard for you [5:10 am] You: just fucking cum, jk, it shouldn’t be that hard

The degradation in the sentence sends him flying over the edge, and he grunts loudly as he does come on his stomach. He picks up his pace, milks his orgasm as it runs through him, alighting every single one of his nerves with pleasure. He’s shaking when he’s done, feeling weak and blissed and like he’s just committed something unforgivable. He wonders if you feel the same, lying in bed next to Yoongi.

Something breaks. Something physically breaks in him and he hates it. Hates every moment that led him to do this, to do the irreparable to one of his friends. He reckons, if Yoongi hates him forever, he’ll deserve it. Because he knows he won’t be able to hide this from his friend, knows that…

His phone rings, breaking him out of his train of thoughts. To his surprise, and mostly fear, it’s Yoongi calling on Facetime. Jungkook swallows a lump in his throat as he answers, the camera obviously angled towards his face.

Yoongi appears a few seconds later, looking half asleep. “So you’re sending nudes to my girlfriend now?”

Jungkook feels tears burning in his eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

Yoongi laughs, and it breaks into a moan that makes the tears still in Jungkook’s eyes.

“She wanted me to…” Yoongi grunts. “Call you to show you what you’ve done to her.”

And then the camera flips, and it’s your ass on display as you ride Yoongi in reverse cowgirl. Every thought eddies out of Jungkook’s head, and he just watches, entirely forgetting that he’s covered in his own cum when you moan.

Yoongi’s cock glistens in the dim light of the lamp on your night table. You’re so wet Jungkook can hear it through the phone, and his arousal spikes, waking something in him.

“Why don’t you slap her ass?” he tells Yoongi, voice low and dark. “To punish her for what she did tonight.”

Yoongi doesn’t even hesitate. And he slaps so hard Jungkook can see his imprint slowly forming on your skin. It’s sinful, and he does feel bad because the sound you let out is slightly pained, until Yoongi massages your ass and you moan.

Then Jungkook disconnects from reality. Or maybe he dissociates. He knows he tells Yoongi what to do. Knows he tells Yoongi to fuck you in doggy style, to pull at your hair and mark your back with his nails. He guides his friend through the whole thing until his own dick is aching again, ready to go even though he already came. So he jerks himself off, the pain in his chest increasing yet he’s unable to pay attention to it. Unable to do anything other than watch you and Yoongi fuck like animals, until Yoongi comes and pulls out to let Jungkook see his cum dripping out of your cunt.

Jungkook comes at the sight. Not as much as he did earlier, but he still grunts and moans and curses as new cum meets the one that was already on his stomach. He feels even more disgusting, but you and Yoongi don’t seem to notice. Indeed, you invite Jungkook over the next day, and maybe he’s just a little too distracted to notice the shadows in Yoongi’s gaze.

Jungkook accepts the invitation, knowing that he’ll never be able to say no to you. And when you finally hang up, after having spoken for a few minutes, Jungkook barely has the strength to drag himself to the shower to clean up.

Once he’s lying back in bed, he feels like he’s spinning. Like the Earth has sped up, or maybe like he’s a mere sock getting tossed around in the dryer. It’s sickening, just like that feeling that’s clutching at his guts, and that’s been clutching at his guts for a while now.

Because his bed is empty, cold. His bed is always empty and cold. He doesn’t have you by his side, doesn’t have someone to warm up the covers. Hasn’t had anyone to warm up his covers in what feels like forever now.

And so his heart breaks, even more. It aches like acid was poured on it, and no amount of breathing techniques he’d used to get in the game before his boxing matches help. No, the tears win, and though he feels weak for it, he lets them free. Lets them be testaments of his feelings for you, of the loneliness that’s been creeping on him every fucking day since he felt you on his dick for the first time.

The car looms closer to the wall and tonight, Jungkook thinks it may very well meet its end sooner than expected.

☆☆☆☆☆

*chuckles* we're in danger. What did you guys think about this one? I'm so afraid you won't like the direction this fic is taking :') let me know what you think!

Taglist (add yourself to the taglist here) (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you):

Tags :

sinful lust ch 4 yoongi smut jungkook smut yoonkook smut moots my bb ella

418 notes View Post

jessikahathaway

1 year ago

Y’all, okay. When I tell you this was the most perfect ending for this couple???? I kid you not. My bb Ella worked so hard on it and I am absolutely in love. Especially if you know the struggles this couple went through. Like-perfect icing on the beautiful cake that is this couple. I don’t want to spoil too much, but you all should know that Ella is a phenomenal writer and give her lots of love because wow. She went in on this for us.

Thank you for sharing this fic with us babes!

When the End Comes | epilogue (jjk)

☆summary: when the weather seems to work against you and Jungkook for your wedding day, you decide to change plans last minute. In any other situation, it would have made you freak out - but how can you freak out, when you're getting married to the love of your life?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

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

☆genre: marriage!au, fluff, smut

☆warnings: cursing, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, mentions of Jungkook's injury, mentions of breakups, Jungkook's scars, explicit content: wedding night sex, nipple play, a tie around OC's neck, jerking off, oral sex (male and female receiving), mouth fucking, fingering, dirty talking, squirting, ball fondling, shower sex, unprotected sex (they're married give them a break haha)

☆word count: 12.1k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Finally finished the epilogue for you guys! I hope you love it just as much as I loved writing it :') it's going to be hard to say goodbye to this couple, but I hope you love their ending <3 Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆☆☆☆☆

My heart is going onto you So be the heart that I'm choosing, heart that I'm choosing Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, July 6th

The rising sun turns your bedroom into liquid gold, slowly dragging you out of sleep. You bask in the gentle warmth, instinctively turning around to cuddle closer to Jungkook.

In his sleep, Jungkook wraps an arm around you, pulling you ever so closer until your head is pressed to his chest. His heartbeat sings in your ear and you listen to the melody, wishing it would make you fall back asleep.

Alas, your thoughts trot to tomorrow, and like a kid on Christmas morning, too excited to fall back asleep, sleep evades you. So you just enjoy Jungkook’s proximity, sighing softly as he brushes a kiss on the top of your head.

You smile against him, kissing the skin of his chest against which your face is pressed. Jungkook shifts a little bit, his breathing growing slightly uneven, the only indication that he’s waking up as well.

“Morning,” he whispers, voice gruff with sleep.

“Morning,” you echo, and you try to pull back to take a look at his face, but he holds you tighter.

You chuckle, and you snake an arm around his waist, gently caressing the skin of his back. The moment is peaceful, serene, the kind of moments you never want to step away from. They have been frequent, since you moved in with him in Seoul. Life with him has been perfect, like it was at the very beginning of your relationship. Now, no long distance can ever create a wedge between the two of you - every decision you make together, for the both of you.

You’ve been falling in love with him more every day.

“Let’s stay here until tomorrow,” Jungkook whispers, his hold on you momentarily tightening.

You peck his chest again. “I wish we could.”

He whines, a sound that vibrates in his ribcage, and this time you laugh. “Please?”

“You don’t want to get married anymore?” you ask, faking offense as you try to push away from him again.

He doesn’t let you go, though you fight against him for a little longer this time around.

“On the contrary,” he replies. “I kind of wish we’d get married faster.”

It’s a struggle, but you manage to raise your head to look at him. From this angle, all you can see is his sharp jawline and the mole on his neck.

“Why?”

“Because I love you?”

His words make your heart race in your chest, like they always do. Because no amount of declaration of love will ever be enough to stop the uprising of butterflies, to slow down the organ that beats for him.

That has been beating for him since a July night eight years ago. Still, when you were apart, it kept on beating for him, and you know that it will keep on beating for him until you draw your very last breath, at the end of the long road still ahead of the two of you.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

“I know.”

A comfortable silence settles around the two of you again, and you believe you might be able to fall back asleep after all. Unfortunately for you, Bam heard the two of you, and his wagging tail bangs against the dresser as the dog walks over to Jungkook’s side of the bed, propping his front paws on the mattress so that he can reach for Jungkook.

Jungkook shrieks, sitting up, and you burst out laughing, rolling on your back as he lets go of you.

“He licked me,” Jungkook complains, his familiar pout on display.

You sit up, pressing a gentle kiss on his soft lips. “Maybe I should lick you too.”

His pout melts into a devilish smirk. “I’ve got ideas of where you could lick, mmh.”

You laugh as he tackles you, pushing you back down on the bed. Bam takes that as a cue to jump on the bed, and the next five minutes are spent in giggles and laughs and shrieks, a tangled mess of your own little family. When you all finally calm down, Jungkook slips out of bed with the dog in tow so that he can feed him, and you enjoy a few more minutes of peace before you follow them.

When you walk into the kitchen, Jungkook is busying himself with plating the soy eggs you’ve been eating for breakfast, and he offers you a grin over his shoulder. You think the grin would be enough to make you fly, and you smile in return as you walk over to him, loosely wrapping your arms around his dainty waist.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Mmh.”

He laughs, gently patting your arm. “You’ll get your food soon enough, fear not.”

You hum again, pressing a kiss on his soft skin. His muscles flex as he moves, and you let go of him, heading to the table. Bam trots to you, and you pet the dog as Jungkook finishes with breakfast, carrying it to you. He sits next to you, pecking your cheek as he puts down a plate in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say, immediately diving into the food. It makes Jungkook laugh, even as he follows suit.

As you eat, Jungkook grabs his phone from his pocket, scrolling on Instagram. You look at the screen as he does so, resting your head on his shoulder when you’re done with the eggs. It’s something you also often do - looking at memes and the likes together, spending time in silence, together.

“I hope the forecast has changed for tomorrow,” Jungkook says through a yawn as he switches to the weather app.

It hasn’t. The forecast still announces a rainstorm, and you hide your face in his neck as you groan.

“What are we supposed to do?” you ask. “We can’t have everyone sit in the rain.”

“The reception hall said we can be there early,” Jungkook reminds you. “We can just have the ceremony there instead.”

You pout, not replying. Because you had planned to have the ceremony outside - you’d even wanted to have it happen at night, under a blanket of stars. But it wasn’t possible, so you’d settled for a ceremony outside in a field. Unlike traditional Korean weddings, you’d also decided to have a reception after, so Jungkook has a point.

But you really don’t feel like getting married indoors.

“We should just cancel everything,” you whine. “Let’s wait until we can have our perfect wedding.”

Jungkook leans his head on top of yours. “It’s sunny today.” His voice holds mischief, and you sit back to look at him. His eyes twinkle like stars in the night sky, and for a moment, you just want to get lost in his gaze.

Until an idea sparks in your mind.

“Can we move everything to today?” you ask.

He purses his lips. “Jimin, Bridget and Heather are landing today,” he reminds you. “I thought you wanted to introduce Jimin and Somi.”

Somi. A friend you met during your spinning classes. She’s been a gift here in Korea, helping you adjust in ways that Jungkook couldn’t. More than that, Somi is a hopeless romantic, and something about the way she carries herself makes you think that Jimin would like her.

Maybe she’s what Jimin needs to finally move on from Scottie.

“Right,” you let out. “Fuck.”

Jungkook shrugs. “We could get married and then still have the reception tomorrow.”

Your gaze widens. “You think your dad would accept?”

Indeed, Jungkook’s father is your officiant, since your own father wouldn’t have any legal right to marry you in South Korea. It was still an easy decision though - Jungkook’s family has been treating you like you’ve always been a part of them ever since you’ve met them, all those years ago.

“Definitely,” Jungkook affirms. “I can call him right now.”

“What about the witnesses?” you ask.

“Ask your dad to come, and my mother or my brother can sign for me.”

It seems so simple. You do feel a little guilty thinking about all of your friends who came all the way here to see you get married, but then again, you think they would understand.

They all know that you and Jungkook have always been a little more on the secretive side, even when you were young and dumb college students. So you don’t think any of them would hold it against you…

“Jungkook…”

“Yes?”

“Should we really?”

Even as you ask the question, you already know you want to. Because declaring your love in a room full of people feels like a lot of pressure, even though all of them are already aware of that same love. But to you, it feels impersonal, and you’d rather just do it alone with Jungkook and a few key people.

Maybe it’s the reason why the forecast has been battling against you. Like a sign that you aren’t supposed to get married in that field anyway.

“Do you want to?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head to the side as his features grow serious.

You nod once. “I think it’s a good idea…” you trail off, wetting your lips. “Especially considering the rain.”

“And then I’d get to call you wife today,” he says, smiling softly.

“And I’d get to call you husband.”

His smile slowly widens. “Then let’s do it.”

“What about everyone else though? What do we say?”

Jungkook flicks your nose, winking at you. “They don’t need to know.”

“And the hairstylist and makeup artist?”

“You can still get glammed up for the reception.”

“And Mingyu?”

“I’ll tell him to come today.”

You hold his big doe eyes for a moment, pursing your lips. Your heart syncs with his, warmth filling your soul. It feels like that July night sky, like his lips on yours and a reunion after months apart. Time stretches, and for a moment, you see all of your life in front of you, and all the love and the happiness and joy that it will hold.

Eyes slowly lining with silver, you finally say, “Let’s do it.”

*****

The field is lined with wildflowers, swimming in the breeze. Their fragrance floats in the air, and bees flutter from flower to flower, collecting the pollen. Fat clouds roll in the sky above, plump and white, and the sun shines, endlessly.

The arch where you were supposed to get married tomorrow is already there, a beautiful contraption of entwined vines. White and lilac balloons were supposed to be added to it, but the lack of them doesn’t deter you.

Not when the man you love is waiting for you, right under it. Eyes shining with unshed tears, as your hand tightens on your father’s arm.

“Let’s do it,” your father whispers for just you to hear.

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “What if it’s the wrong thing to do?”

You can’t help the anxiety. It isn’t even what you truly feel - just the anxiety of an important moment in your life, coming sooner than expected. Your question makes your father laugh.

“I’ve never seen a man loving a woman as much as the kid loves you,” he reassures you. “Put him out of his misery.”

You snort, though it sounds more like a sob, as a tear rolls on your cheek. “I love him so much, too.”

Your father pats your hand, and then starts walking you towards where Jungkook is waiting for you, his mother and brother next to him, his father behind him. All of them look at you with tears in their eyes, and you fight the next wave that threatens to spill on your cheeks.

Louis, Isabelle, Jungkook’s brother’s wife and their kids are standing on each side of the makeshift aisle, as the chairs weren’t delivered yet. Still, they also look at you. For a moment, you picture your friends - Jiho, Hobi, Somi, Heather, Bridget, Jo, Taehyung, Kiko, Yoongi, Jin, Valeria, Jimin, Lance and Chaeyeong… You picture all of them sharing this moment of love with you. You do feel bad for them - especially for Jiho and Heather, who were supposed to be your bridesmaids - but then again, you’ll see them tonight.

For your pretend bachelorette.

Everyone present right now promised to keep this instant secret, at least until the reception tomorrow. Just so that you can tell your friends yourself when the moment comes.

You take a step forward, and then another, the distance between you and Jungkook slowly diminishing until you’re standing right in front of him, close enough to see the scar on his left cheek and the mole under his bottom lip. You see everything and nothing at once, your tears blinding you until you blink them away.

Jungkook is not faring any better. Two tears are rolling down his right cheek, and he wipes them with the back of his hand, chuckling softly.

He looks beautiful in his tuxedo, the form tight to his body. He looks massive, strong, yet so delicate in the way his features soften as he looks at you. As he melts like ice in the sun, like you do as well. You melt like that winter of the months away from him never existed, like you never broke up for those terrible months. The memory of them left a scar on your heart, but as you look at him right now, you think the scar is disappearing, like maybe it really never existed.

You look down at yourself, at the white dress on your body. It’s tight to your frame, but the fabric is stretchy enough for it to remain comfortable. Its off-the-shoulder style is perfect for the warm temperature, and the lace that decorates it is beautiful, yet simple.

Jungkook takes you in, whispering, “You’re beautiful,”, as his father starts reciting the usual wedding speech. As much as you want to focus, to paint this moment in your memory, to be able to relive it again and again, it flashes before you until you finally reach the vows.

Jungkook scrapes his throat, then lets out a small, pained sob as new tears roll down his cheeks. You cry in time with him, laughing through it all, as you wipe the tears on his face.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath to calm down. “Wow. I…” he trails off, chuckling again, and his hands close around yours in the space between you. “I never believed we’d finally reach this day,” Jungkook finally says. “For years, I’ve known that you were the one. Hell, I knew the first day I saw you.” He chuckles, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. “I think that’s why you got on my nerves so much.” You swat his arm, laughing, and he winks at you. “I think then I was just scared, because I knew just how much I was going to love you someday, and it first scared me. But when I finally got to be with you, I realized there is nothing to be scared about when it comes to my love for you.” He pauses, blinking a few times. “Except when you get mad at me. That’s scary.”

Soft laughter surrounds you, that of the closest people in your life right now. Mingyu snaps pictures, and your brain zeroes in on the sound for a few seconds until Jungkook speaks again.

“And then I lost you.” You shut your eyes, the pain of the few months away awakening inside of you. “I hated myself for those few months, but even then, I think I knew it was always going to be us two. Whether in this life or another, I knew I’d find you again.” His voice, heavy with emotion, wavers on the last words, and it takes him a moment of breathing in and out before he’s able to continue. “I will forever be thankful that I found you again in this life. That I’ll get to spend every day of my life with you.”

The wind is gentle on your features, almost as gentle as Jungkook’s touch is. Your hands tighten on his fingers for a few seconds, to give him the strength to finish.

“That we’ll get to share the dance of our lives, until death does us part,” he finishes. “I love you, Y/n.”

That last bit was barely over a whisper, yet it clangs through you, vibrates in your soul beautifully. You laugh softly, whispering, “I love you too, Jungkook. So, so much.”

He laughs too, and then you both blink away tears, right as you take a few deep breaths, trying to get ready for your own vows.

You’ve prepared them a while ago. As a matter of fact, the days following his proposal you’d known what you were going to say. You’d almost suggested getting married right then and there, though you don’t regret anything.

Because today feels right. It feels right in ways you can’t comprehend, like it’s time for an entirely new cataclysm, but one that creates.

One that creates a life instead of destroying. That creates a world for just you and him, something you’ll share until the very end.

“Jungkook,” you start. “I’ve loved you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. Even when I didn’t know what love was, you were there in my heart, slowly making the place yours. When we danced under the stars eight years ago, I knew we would make it to this day. That we’d get married, that we’d always be partners. And I want us to be partners. I want us to make every important decision together, to love and hold each other. To dance under a thousand different night skies, to grow old and grumpy together. Every day, I will love you. I will look into your eyes and know that they were made for me.”

You pause, wiping tears on your cheeks. “I also want to thank you. Thank you for being patient with me, for welcoming me back into your life after those months last year. Thank you for still loving me, for still wanting me even though I broke your heart. And thank you, all those years ago, for being there for me, even though we were at an awkward place in life. The help you granted me when I got kicked out kept me going, and I really, really thank you for it. I just hope I can repay you properly through the years.”

“You already have,” Jungkook chokes out.

You want to wrap him in your arms, but you resist, instead holding his gaze with all the love in your heart. You think your souls are merging, though you reckon you’ve been one for far longer than this moment already.

You’ve been one since you first chose to love him, and he you.

“You can exchange the rings,” Jungkook’s father says, and he sounds just as choked on emotion as the two of you.

So you do, Jungkook gently pushing the ring on your finger. It’s pretty, delicate, similar to the engagement ring he’d gotten you. Though the wedding ring sports emeralds instead, shaped like leaves. It’s fairy-like, and you smile at its simple beauty before putting Jungkook’s ring on his finger.

He raises his hand to look at the ring, smiling brightly. As his father proclaims to kiss the bride, Jungkook’s hand shifts towards you, before gently grabbing your chin. He tilts your head back, and your eyes dip to his mouth as he wets his lips.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he says, and then he’s crashing his mouth on yours, ravishing a passionate kiss on your lips.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he dips you, unable to stop the smile that grows on your lips despite the intensity of the kiss. Jungkook is smiling too, and he straightens you as he pulls away before pecking your lips once more.

“I love you so fucking much too.”

*****

Lying to your friends has been feeling like a game you can play too well. Or maybe it’s only because you’re still reeling from getting married, though you have yet to call Jungkook your husband. You’re waiting until tomorrow, maybe to save something for your wedding night.

It’s hard to tell why you both refrained. Maybe you just really want something special for the wedding night, for the moment you’ll finally be embracing in your marital bed, limbs entwined until one can’t tell where you end and where he begins.

Your blood heats up at the thought. Earlier, when you were forced to part ways, you’d almost decided to stay. To stay and fuck him right then and there, to consummate this union between you and him. From the way he’d kissed you, driving his knee between your legs, you know he wanted it too.

But time ran out, and Jiho knocked on your door, stealing you away.

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind so that you can focus on your friends. On the dinner going on around you, with too much alcohol for it to be safe. When you told your friends that the ceremony was supposedly moved inside and later in the day, they’d decided that drinking more was the way to go.

So maybe you shake your head to clear your mind from the alcohol as you dive into the food. It’s delicious, and you eat and laugh and smile with your friends, loving how Somi fits right in despite the language barrier. Both Jiho and Chaeyeoung also speak Korean, so it’s been helping for sure, Somi chatting happily with them.

You sit back in your chair, looking over your group of friends. Heather, with her arm on the chair behind Bridget, smiling broadly at something Bridget is saying. Jiho, fast in a conversation with Somi and Chaeyeoung about a group Jungkook was photographing last week. Jo and Kiko, subtly trying to pour shots for the both of them, the latter’s cheeks already flushed red. Valeria watching them, eyes crinkled with happiness.

You love them so freaking much.

You wonder if Jungkook is sitting through a similar dinner with the rest of the friend group. You wonder if he, too, is thinking of you, imagining the moment you’ll finally be reunited. Imagining the moment you’ll be able to put the ring back on your finger so that everyone will know you’re his and he’s yours.

“Hey, are you planning to give some of that to the rest of us?” you ask Jo and Kiko, and Jo startles, spilling alcohol over the rim of her shot glass.

“Oh,” Jo lets out. “You guys want some?”

“Aren’t we partying tonight?” you remind her.

Jo smirks wickedly. “We sure are.”

And so she pours shots for everyone. You clink the glasses together, not caring for the spilled alcohol, and knock it back. The burn down your throat is devilish, and you know that tonight might just be the time of your life, in different ways than tomorrow night will be.

You notice Valeria looking at her still full shot glass before putting it down on the table. She finds you looking, and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Wait,” you let out, and everyone turns to look at you. “Are you…?”

Valeria chuckles, eyes filling with tears. “Yeah, I am.”

Everybody screams and shrieks in happiness, congratulating her. She beams under the attention, and you find yourself blinking back tears for her and Jin. They’d been trying for kids for a few years now, but they’d been unlucky so far. So you’re really happy for them, and you get up to hug your friend tight.

“I didn’t mean to steal your shine,” she whispers.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her as you pull away. “I’m just happy for you.”

She smiles, nodding her head. “Thank you.”

You pat her shoulder, walking back to your seat so that the other girls can hug and congratulate her. Questions about how far along she is and if she wants a girl or a boy are exchanged, and you watch the scene unfold with a teary-eyed smile on your lips.

Jiho, sitting next to you, leans closer to you. “What about you?” she asks.

You cock an eyebrow. “What?”

“You and Jungkook are planning to have any kids?”

The question makes your heart race. Years ago, you would have said no. Even last year, when you’d reconnected, you hadn’t been sure if kids were in your future. But the more time you spend with Jungkook, loving him, the more you realize that maybe it’s a future that would feel right for the both of you.

Because if there’s someone you would want to raise a kid with, it would have to be Jungkook.

“I’m not sure,” you truthfully reply. “Maybe one day?”

Jiho smiles, knowing what you mean. She’s been your closest friend all your life after all, and she already knows the ways of your brain. “You would be brilliant parents,” she tells you, her eyes shining with tears.

“I don’t know about that, but I would definitely do my best.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “The way you parent Lisa and Charles for me and Hobi sometimes tells me you’d be the best parents.”

“Stop,” you say, echoing her laugh as you shake your head. “We’ll see.”

“We sure will.”

After that, the conversation returns to a shared one around the table, one you gladly participate in. It’s not too long before you decide to hit the streets, heading to the club Somi chose for the evening. It’s one where you went twice with her before, though tonight you have access to the VIP section.

And so you drink and dance with your friends, careless, as if you’re back to your college days. As if none of you are adults with responsibilities, as if you can just live with no consequences. It feels liberating, yet you find yourself in a quiet corner in the early hours of the morning, seeking the man that you love.

[1:27 am] You: miss u

You’re not quite surprised when Jungkook replies almost right away.

[1:28 am] baby <3: miss u too [1:28 am] baby <3: how’s the party

You smile, heart warming up with your love for him.

[1:28 am] You: it’d be better with u here [1:29 am] baby <3: soon

And though it might just be a text sent in the early hours of the morning, you know that it’s a promise. A promise that you will soon be together again, never to be separated.

Saturday, July 7th

Jungkook looks out the window of the car, heartbeat racing like it’s seeking to win a Formula 1 Grand Prix. He doubts he’ll win - it rather feels like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest.

He doesn’t know why he’s so anxious. Hell, you’re already married, and he just can’t wait to see you again. Though it might be the fact that he’s been lying to everyone, and he hates lying.

He reckons Jimin is onto him. The moment they hugged for the first time, Jimin narrowed his gaze, tilting his head to the side as if to say ‘Something’s changed about you’. Jungkook wanted to admit everything, to reveal that you are already married, but he held on strong.

He’s excited to get to the reception hall and to say the truth. Mostly, he’s excited to have you close again, and he knows he’ll never be without you again. Especially considering how much of a mess he is after just a single day.

He’s yet to call you wife. He’s been trying to figure out a way to do it, something for just the two of you. Because it’s always been about the two of you anyway - ever since the very first day, ever since that dance under the night sky. Eight years ago to the day, Jungkook fell so deep in love, and every day he’s been falling more. And he knows he’ll keep on falling - it’s the most beautiful thing in life. His love for you, yes, but the act of it being shared by your pure heart.

You’ll have so much fun together.

Taehyung parks the car in the parking lot of the reception hall, shooting a look at Jungkook over his shoulder. Jungkook offers him a tight-lipped smile, and Taehyung nods once.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Jungkook says, smile softening.

Taehyung nods again, before turning back around to turn off the wipers and then the engine. The sound of the rain on the roof of the car is deafening, yet Jungkook thinks it’s a beautiful melody.

It allowed him to marry you yesterday after all.

Lance gets out of the car, carrying an umbrella around so that Jungkook won’t get wet. He wants to say it’s useless - you saw him already - but he refrains, instead thanking his friend as he gets out of the car, safe from the storm.

The car with Namjoon, Jin, Hobi, Yoongi and Mingyu arrives behind them, and they all quickly make their way inside, shaking off the water. The families are already here, and Jungkook watches as everyone mingles, bright smiles on their lips. Bridget and Heather come to see him, and he smiles widely as the couple stops in front of him.

“Excited?” Bridget asks.

His smile turns into a smirk. “More than ever. Especially for tonight.”

Heather rolls her eyes as Bridget wiggles her eyebrows, and then Jungkook’s father jogs to him, grabbing his arm.

“It’s time,” the older man says.

Jungkook feels a lump forming in his throat, as if it isn’t already done. As if you aren’t already united by the vows of marriage, until death does you apart. Yet, he still nods goodbye to his friends, and then follows his father to the little dais where the DJ will be playing later tonight.

People turn to look at him curiously, probably expecting him to go out of the room for the wedding processional. Instead, Jungkook grabs a mic, scraping his throat before bringing it closer to his mouth.

“Hey everyone,” he greets the crowd, and silence slowly falls on the room. “Thank you for coming today. It means a lot to me and Y/n, more than you can imagine.”

And then you walk out of the room where you were hiding with Jiho, Heather and Somi, and people gasp at the sight of you.

“The only thing is,” Jungkook continues, and he offers you his hand to hold. The moment your fingers touch he feels rejuvenated, like maybe he was just born this instant. And you look fabulous - did you get more beautiful in the day apart? “The only thing is,” Jungkook restarts. “We already got married.”

Wide gazes and shocked gasps now fill the room, and Jungkook hands you the mic, even as Jiho takes a step towards you, as if to stop you.

“We’d always dreamed to get married outside,” you say, and you motion to the rain splattering on the window panes. “Unfortunately, the weather was working against us. So we got married yesterday, with only our close family present.”

You meet Jungkook’s gaze, offering him a teary-eyed smile. He’s surprised to see the tears in your gaze, as if not expecting them, but they quickly make his gaze wet as well, and he chuckles softly, his heart feeling like he’s been embraced by all the love in the universe.

The world slows around you. Jungkook feels like he’s falling through the years, through the past, through every hurdle that stood in your path. All of them were worth it. So fucking worth it - he wouldn’t be standing next to you right now without them.

Your smile softens, if that is even possible. Eyes so full of love he thinks he’ll combust, like a firework exploding in colours and beauty. Because you’ve always brought out the best of him.

“So we did want to apologize to all of you who traveled all the way from the States,” you continue, and you look away from Jungkook.

He steps closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to press you against him. You easily melt in his touch, leaning your head on him.

“But we also wanted to thank you for coming, and we hope that tonight’s party is going to still be worth it.”

On that note, Jungkook gets the rings in his pocket, as you give the mic to a stunned Jiho. You face him again, and like yesterday, Jungkook gently puts your ring on your finger. It’s delicate, beautiful - everything that you are as well. His is simpler, yet still just as elegant, and its weight is a comfortable reminder of your love the second it’s on his finger.

Looking in your eyes, Jungkook wonders if he deserves your love. It’s a weird question to ask himself in the moment, and he knows he does. Or at least he’ll always work to make sure he deserves it, and he’ll offer you everything in his heart and soul. Because you’re the love of his life - he knew from the moment he met you.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Jungkook gently grabs your cheeks, the crowd slowly fading away. It’s like you’re alone in the universe, just you and him. In a world that is just yours - maybe that forgotten space where you’d first met. It’s a world of simple love, eternal. And in that world, Jungkook gently leans in, pressing his lips on yours, kissing you like he has all the time in the universe.

And he does. He does now.

Cheering brings him back to reality, and Jungkook pulls away, laughing along with you as you grab his hand, facing your friends and family. They are cheering and clapping, bright smiles welcoming you back to reality. You bow to them in tandem, and then Jungkook leads you down the dais so that you can receive the congratulations from everyone.

And though it might be a little exhausting, Jungkook knows that all of his burdens will now be shared with you. So with a heart lighter than the wind, Jungkook follows you around the room, and he follows you to your shared future.

*****

The reception has been fun. The food was perfect, the cake just as tasty, and to be surrounded with the people you love has been a dream. A beautiful dream - one you’ll forever spend with the love of your life.

Jungkook leads you to the dancefloor for the first dance. A dance for just the two of you, shared with your friends and family. The first of so many other dances, yet it’s hardly the first. You stop in front of him, and he puts one hand on your waist, the other gently closing around your fingers. You put your free hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

Before you even start dancing, Jungkook whispers, “Do you want to dance with me?” and your eyes fill with tears as a sob racks through you.

“Yes,” you whisper back. “Always.”

He smiles, a tear rolling on his cheek, and then the music starts. It’s a soft song, a gentle love song, by an artist you both came to love through the years. It’s one you’ve danced to a thousand times before, yet today it feels different. It feels like that July night eight years ago - the cataclysm of you and him, relived.

So you dance with him, eyes lost in the shine of his gaze, in the pure love it holds. You dance and dance, remembering the years. Remembering finding him again after his accident. Remembering the hate you’d arbored for him, that had always been love disguised. Remembering falling in love, yet pushing him away. Remembering Laura, and the day Jungkook had chosen you over her. Remembering Chicago, the dance crew, the parties you spent too busy getting lost in each other to partake in the reveling.

You remember everything - moving into your new apartment, him later moving in with you. Loving each other - the day Lisa was born, and Jungkook had held her with so many stars in his eyes you believed he’d turn into a galaxy. You remember the cottage, the camping trips, the long distance. The dreaded long distance - who would have thought it was leading you to this moment in time? You remember Harrison, remember falling back into Jungkook’s arms - the hotel balcony on Taehyung and Jo’s wedding. You remember everything, all at once - the day he proposed.

And the day he married you. The most important day of your life, forever.

As the dance slowly comes to an end, Jungkook kisses you again. Telling you that he, too, remembers everything. That it was all supposed to happen the way that it did, if only to lead you to the right place for you. On the other side of the world, together.

Always together.

After that first dance, everyone joins you on the dancefloor. Love in their hearts, your friends and family dance. Laughter and smiles and teary eyes reign on the world tonight, and you take it all in. Take all the love in, and redirect it to Jungkook.

So you kiss him, right there on the dance floor. You kiss him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. And he kisses you back, his arms snaking around your waist. You wonder if he can hear the wild beats of your heart - is his heart beating just as wildly?

You know it is. Because the love between you and him will forever be shared - it’s the kind people write poems about. And you feel like a poet tonight, like you’re experiencing the most beautiful moment of your life. Something you’ll always look back on with fondness and love and nostalgia.

When you’ll be old and grey and death will take you in its hold, you know today will be the movie in your mind, the moment you’ll relive before you go.

But for now, you need to experience it. To party with your friends, to enjoy this moment where you and Jungkook are celebrated. So you do. Even as Jiho scolds you for not telling her, even as your father makes a speech that ends up making everyone cry. You think you’re on top of a mountain, breathing in the fresh air, making you feel younger than you’ve ever been. New, untainted by the horrors of the world.

It’s just you and Jungkook tonight, and love. Love and love and love, as he leads you outside to get fresh air after the first hour of partying. If his leg is hurting him, he doesn’t let it show. Instead he leads you away from the light of the building, walking around the ponds left from the rain earlier.

It relented. It relented to let you see the moon and the stars, though clouds drift above, hiding most of the blanket of constellations that means so much to the two of you.

“How are you feeling?” Jungkook asks as he pulls your back flush to his chest, and you both tilt your heads back to look up to the night sky.

“Infinite,” you reply. “I feel like I love you even more than before.”

He kisses the top of your head. “So do I. Forever.”

“Forever,” you echo.

Because the end won’t ever come for you and him. Even in death, you know your soul will dance with his.

“Dance with me,” you tell him.

It’s a remix of your usual question, yet the answer doesn’t change. Jungkook turns you around, yet keeps you close to him, swaying you to the soft night breeze. He leans his forehead against yours, and you breathe in the same air as you dance gently, slowly.

“We’re married,” Jungkook murmurs.

“We are.”

“I love you so much,” he adds, his voice trembling with emotion.

Yours isn’t much better as you reply, “I love you so much too.”

*****

Jimin walks outside, needing fresh air. He stops in his tracks when he notices you and Jungkook, dancing the night away. He smiles - if only he’d be able to find love like that one day.

Though his heart aches, never fully healed from what happened with Scottie, Jimin is happy for the two of you. Happy that, through the hurdles, you and Jungkook made it.

You give him hope, more than he’d dare admit.

He looks at you for a few more seconds, before turning around to walk back inside. He startles at the sight of the pretty girl behind him, and he stops right before he was to run into her.

Somi. Right. The friend you told him about. And though Jimin is usually charming, flirty, all he can do when he looks down at the girl is shyly smile, cheeks burning.

“They’re adorable,” she says in Korean, looking behind him.

Jimin glances at you once more. “They really are. I can only hope to find love like that someday.”

He meets Somi’s gaze again, scolding himself for saying such a vulnerable thing to a stranger. Yet, her eyes twinkle with understanding, and she motions to the side.

“Do you want to walk with me?”

Jimin feels his throat go dry, yet he nods. “Sure.”

“It’s just…” she trails off. “I think we’re the only single people here,” she explains, as if she needed to.

Or as if he didn’t sound so sure.

“Even if we weren’t, I’d still walk with you,” Jimin says, voice low, finding some of his old charming self back.

It works. Damn it it works, and Somi takes it in stride, a gentle smile moving on her red-tinted lips. “Good. Because you’re the only one I’d want to walk with.”

He laughs, a clear laugh he hasn’t laughed in years. And then they walk with easy conversation, and Somi reveals more of her past. More of how she became friends with you, how she always wanted to meet everyone. To meet Jimin, she adds, a shy smile on her lips.

They walk to a small river, though the current is rushing from the rainstorm earlier. Yet the night takes the edge off the rush, making it seem like the most idyllic scene Jimin could have conjured up.

Or maybe that’s Somi and her soft smiles. Her big eyes shining brightly whenever she meets his gaze. He feels like he never truly breathed before this moment - like the night air is the most refreshing, rejuvenating.

It helps that the conversation is so easy. That Somi doesn’t know about Scottie, unlike the friend group. Unlike everyone, who’s always treated Jimin differently after the breakup. Somi doesn’t - she teases him, smiles with him, and when they walk back to the reception hall when Jimin notices her shivering, even though he’s given her his jacket, she dances with him.

Jimin feels new, raw. He laughs with her, smiles with her, and butterflies slowly come to life in his stomach. His heart feels warmer than it’s felt in years - Somi is healing him. Damn him, she’s healing him in ways he doesn’t comprehend, and he barely knows her yet.

But when the end of the night comes, and he presses a gentle kiss on her lips that she immediately reciprocates, Jimin knows he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to get to know her better.

So he lets Scottie go, and welcomes Somi in.

*****

“After you,” Jungkook says, opening the door of the hotel room you’ve rented for tonight.

Bam is being babysat with your father for the night, which you think is a relief. You’ll definitely be too busy to take care of a dog tonight.

You walk into the room, taking in the flower petals and the candles that were lit by the hotel staff before your return. The atmosphere is light, romantic - a dream come true after all the years of you and him. You spin on yourself, your wedding dress fluttering around you.

Jungkook has closed the door behind him, and he’s leaning against it, watching you twirl with a smile on his lips. When you stop to look at him, his smile slowly turns into a smirk, and he tilts his head to the side.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” he murmurs with a husky voice.

He slowly takes off his tie, and you patiently survey him, warmth spreading through you. Once the tie is off, Jungkook steps towards you, putting it around your neck.

He tugs on it, and you stumble forward in his embrace. He was ready to catch you - he crashes his mouth on yours, and you immediately kiss him back, fire blazing in your soul. Jungkook backs you towards the bed, sucking on your lower lip.

“Kook,” you breathe against his soft pink lips, and then he pushes you on the bed.

He towers over you, slowly shrugging off his blazer. He throws it towards the couch in one corner, and the flames of the candles flicker from the rush of air. Next is his dress shirt - he slowly unbuttons it, revealing more of his perfect, honey skin as he goes down.

You watch him, hungrily. Follow every movement of his fingers, imagining how they will soon feel on you. And when he’s done unbuttoning his shirt, you open it for him, caressing his abs with the tip of your fingers. Goosebumps trail in the wake of your fingers, and Jungkook sucks in a breath as you graze his scar.

The soft, flickering light of the candles lessen the harsh edges of the scar that disappears in his pants. You follow down the line until you reach the band of his pants, and then you lean forward to press a soft kiss on the spot.

“So beautiful,” you praise. “My husband.”

He grabs your face, forcing you to look up as he bends down to kiss you. It’s a gentle kiss, yet it quickly turns languid, his tongue pushing into your mouth. You meet it with your own, drinking him in, getting drunk on his taste. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks, lovingly, never-ending.

Because love will never end between you and him.

Your hands find his dainty waist, his skin warm against your palms. He shudders as you move up his flanks, and then you pull him down, moving back on the bed. Your lips never disconnect - like two adjacent puzzle pieces that have finally been joined. So Jungkook lies on top of you, the lapels of his dress shirt tickling your arms. You try to take it off him, but it’s unsuccessful. Until he kneels to help, and soon, your eyes fall to his perked brown nipples.

You pinch them playfully as Jungkook just watches you with his gaze full of swirling emotions, love on the surface of it all. You swim in his gaze, getting lost in him.

“I’m your husband,” he breathes.

You nod, eyes filling with unsuspected tears. “You are.”

“I’m so fucking lucky.”

And then he’s bending down again, stealing a searing kiss on your lips. You moan in his mouth, and he swallows it like he always does, with a grunt of his own. You run your hands on his back, up to his hair, and you tug at the soft strands on the back of his head.

He groans a little louder this time and then pulls away from the kiss. His gaze is dark, with desire and passion and love and everything that makes him the person that you want and will spend the rest of your life with.

“How do I get you out of this dress?” he asks as one of his hands runs up and down your arm.

You sigh. “I’m pretty sure I’d have to be standing.”

He pouts, yet he gets up, gently grabbing your small hands in his large ones so that he can help you up. Once you’re standing, he pecks your nose once, turning you around when he’s done. He brushes your hair over one shoulder before bending down to kiss the skin on the side of your neck.

“It’s a shame that I have to take it off,” he breathes right in your ear, and you shiver. “But I want to see all of you while I’m making you mine tonight.”

“I’m already yours,” you reply, breath hitching in your throat as he sucks on your skin.

“Oh, I know.” He kisses your neck again and then pulls away.

It takes him a few seconds to figure out how to get you out of your dress, but he soon finds the zipper. He slowly pulls it down, and you feel his gaze burning on every inch of skin revealed. When he’s done unzipping, Jungkook pushes the dress off down your arms, and it slowly falls to the floor, pooling around your ankles.

“You weren’t wearing any underwear?” Jungkook asks, sounding out of breath.

You step out of the dress, turning to look at him innocently. “I wasn’t. Should I have?”

You can tell it takes everything in him not to jump on you. Instead, he pulls you by his tie again - you forgot it was around your neck. When you step closer to him, he lets it go, and it falls between your breasts. You look down at yourself right as Jungkook pinches your nipples, and they perk under his fingers.

“So, so beautiful,” he praises again, and he bends down to suck on one of your nipples.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out a breathy sound as he cups your other breast, palming it softly. You lose your hands in his hair again, tugging gently to bring his mouth back to yours. You suck on his tongue the moment he pushes it in your mouth, and Jungkook grunts, especially as one of your hands falls in the space between you, palming his dick through his pants.

He’s already hard, sitting heavy in your hand, and you moan as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes out. “I’m so horny. I feel like I won’t last long.”

With a devilish smirk, you drop to your knees. “It’s okay,” you reassure him. “We can fuck all night long.”

You bite at his dick through the fabric, and he curses under his breath. Yet he doesn’t do anything, just watches you as you work on his belt. When it comes undone, you unbutton his pants, holding his half-lidded gaze.

“So you want me to come in your mouth first, mmh?” he asks. “You want to swallow every last drop?”

You unzip the pants, pushing it down his legs. “You’d like that?”

“Baby, I’d love it.”

You look down at his dick, straining against his boxers. You peck his length, before smiling up at him. “I love you.”

And then you push his boxers down as well, immediately taking the tip of his cock in your mouth.

“I love-” he moans, “you too.”

You suck on his tip before pulling away so that you can jerk him off. “So fuck my mouth, Kook. Come down my throat.”

His chest rapidly goes up and down from his quick breaths, and Jungkook nods. “Alright. Open up your throat for me, baby.”

You do, mouth falling open as you push your tongue out. You let go of his dick so that he can hold it instead, and he taps it twice on your tongue, a string of saliva connecting his slit to your mouth. It’s hot, sinful, yet all you focus on are his pretty eyes as they narrow, almost as if he’s in pain, or maybe angry. His brows are bunched together, and you know he’s about to ruin you.

You want him to ruin you. You want him to ruin you every single day of the rest of your life.

Getting tired of teasing, Jungkook pushes his dick in your mouth. You take him in, relaxing your throat as he pushes as far back as you can take him. You keep the gag reflex in, and Jungkook sighs as he slowly pulls out, pushing in once more just a second later. He lets go of his dick to hold your cheeks instead, thumbs swiping on your skin again.

“You tap my leg if it gets too much, yeah?” he asks.

You moan around him, offering him a thumbs-up. It makes him snort, and he pulls out of your mouth as you start laughing, too.

“I really fucking love you, wow,” he says. “The love of my life.”

You’d get sentimental if he didn’t push his dick in your mouth again. Instead, you moan softly, and Jungkook grunts in approval.

And then he unleashes himself. You hold on to his powerful thighs, appreciating the way his muscles shift under his skin, the way the jagged edges of his scar tickle your palm. Jungkook is a grunting and cursing mess over you, though praises of love for you are the most common. You moan for him, relaxing your throat, doing all you can to keep the gag reflex in. Jungkook wipes the tears that slip on your cheeks, always trusting you to stop him if it’s too much.

But it’s not too much. Ever. You want him to ruin you so bad you’ll never be able to say anything other than his name. And he seems like he wants it, too, as he keeps snapping his hips forward in quick, harsh thrusts. His dick is infinitely hard in your mouth, and you swallow around it, though it triggers your gag reflex.

Jungkook pulls out of your mouth, though he immediately starts jerking off. You recognize the signs that he’s about to come, and you quickly wrap your lips around his tip. He throws his head back, and his dick starts twitching, his warm cum spilling on your tongue.

The taste makes you go feral. Makes you take as much of him in as you can, and cum overflows on your chin. But you don’t care - you’re truly feral for him, forever.

Jungkook finishes unloading his load directly in your throat, and he’s shaking by the time you finally pull away, swallowing his cum. The heady taste and scent doesn’t make you gag, and you lick your lips clean as he looks down at you, chest flushed red.

“Fuck,” he curses, and then he chuckles, a smile growing on his lips. “I’m the luckiest guy alive.”

You laugh as you get up, wiping your chin. “And I’m the luckiest girl.”

“You sure are,” he says, eyes fondly looking down at you. They quickly darken again, and he motions to the bed. “Now let me return the favour to my beautiful love.”

You feel like rolling your eyes at his cheesiness, yet you only then realize that he hasn’t called you wife once. Somehow, it makes you anxious, yet you’re too drunk on the taste of him to be able to interpret anything. You only obey him, lying on your back. Jungkook kneels next to the bed, and he gently caresses your thighs before pulling you closer.

He bends down, breathing in the scent of you. “I think,” he starts, and then he pauses to push his tongue inside of you once. “We’ll fuck like animals tonight.”

“Plea-” you start, though the moment he sucks on your clit, it breaks into a moan. “Jungkook…”

He doesn’t reply. He immediately busies himself with lapping you up, with drinking you in. He moans against you, appreciatively, and you lose a hand in his hair again. He’s long dishevelled by now - there’s something terribly hot about it. Because this man is yours - your husband. From now until death does you apart.

He flicks your clit, and you moan out his name the instant he slides a finger inside of you. He curls it, searching for the sweetest spot inside of you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts rubbing on it.

“Kook,” you moan. “Fuck.”

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel,” he says, sitting back on his heels just long enough to push another finger inside of you. Scissor motions press against the tightening muscles of your pussy, and you rock your hips towards his face. He tuts. “A little impatient, are we?”

You groan in frustration as he blows on your clit, the sensitive organ flush with blood, hard, just waiting for the next swipe of his tongue so that you can explode. But Jungkook denies it - he kisses the inside of your thighs, tracing hickeys on your soft skin. Then he kisses your pelvis, ghosting on your clit. He licks your lips, red with your arousal. He teases and teases, and you whine.

“Please,” you beg, teary-eyed. “I’m so close.”

He gives in immediately. An expert motion on your clit sends you flying over the edge, and your thighs close around his face as you climax hard. Your voice breaks in a moan, and he just keeps on fingering you. You grind against his face, milking your orgasm from yourself, instinctively. He lets you do it, delighting in your taste, in your juice on his chin.

It takes you so long to come down from the high that you don’t realize he’s not fingering you anymore. That he moved - he disappeared from between your legs. Instead, Jungkook lies on the bed next to you, tracing circles around your navel.

You turn your head, looking at him through your blown-wide pupils. He’s fuzzy, beautiful.

And most of all, he’s your husband.

“Wow,” you let out, and you chuckle as he smiles devilishly.

“I know,” he replies. “You squirted at the same time.”

You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed, though you doubt there’s anything to be embarrassed about it. Instead, you only repeat, “Wow,” and he laughs with his bunny smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Your husband. This man is your husband now.

“I think you’re right,” you whisper, turning to face him.

He loses the smile, instead looking at you with an inquisitive look on his features, eyebrows raised in question. “About what?”

“We’re going to fuck like animals tonight.”

He bursts out laughing, high and clear, the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen in your life. You join him, and when the laughter subsides, and he rolls over you to kiss you again, you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close. He’s over you, caging you, protecting you from the big bad world and from the months last year where you’d broken apart from each other.

You’ll never be separated again.

“We should take a shower,” Jungkook suggests as he pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours once more, just content with breathing shared air. “I won’t be quite ready to go again for a few minutes.”

You whine, playfully pinching his side, which earns you a shriek from him as he rolls away from you. “You’re boring, Jeon.”

He looks at you, wide smile a little frozen, and then he tears up again. “You haven’t called me that since the beginning,” he reminisces.

“The beginning?” you echo.

He nods. “You know how infuriating it was to see you again for the first time after the accident?”

The mention of his accident makes your eyes drift towards his scars. They’re beautiful on his honey skin, and you mindlessly reach between you to massage the one on his knee.

“You called me Jeon, and you were so pissed to see me,” he remembers, sighing in nostalgia. An emotion you know far too well and that you’re way too happy to dive in with him. “And when you were flirting with Jimin, I could feel my heart sink so deep.”

“Gosh, poor Jimin,” you let out.

Though you both saw him with Somi. You saw the exchanged kiss - the hesitancy, the surprise, and the bright eyes as they’d left separately, yet promised to reach out on the morrow. You’re happy for Jimin and Somi - they both deserve the whole wide world. And though it might be too early to tell, you still cheer for them.

If only because it might bring one of your dearest friends here, and God knows how much you love your friends.

“You think he and Somi will figure shit out?” Jungkook asks, propping his head on his hand.

He looks pretty like that, candlelight still casting a play of shadow and light on his features. Unable to resist, you reach between you, gently tracing the shape of his face.

“I think both of them deserve happiness,” you answer. “If they can find it in each other, I will be very happy for them.”

Jungkook’s face slowly breaks into the softest smile, and then he leans forward to peck your lips once more. “Though I love Jimin, let’s not dwell on this too long. I still want to fuck you stupid.”

You laugh as he playfully pinches your side before getting up. You look at him from where you’re still lying on the bed - his extended hand offers a promise of forever, and it’s a forever you now know to be your future, your truth.

You smile, wind catching in the sails of your heart, and you grab his hands to allow him to help you up. You use the momentum to press your lips on the pillowy softness of his swollen mouth, and Jungkook is quick to kiss you back, to offer you all of his love on a silver platter.

And he doesn’t stop there. Jungkook keeps on kissing you as he leads you to the bathroom. He turns the shower on, only breaking away long enough to adjust the water temperature. He keeps celebrating his love for you in the form of his mouth dancing with yours, and you let him guide you under the warm, soothing water of the shower.

You break away to breathe then, holding each other. Him, with his arms wrapped around your middle. You, leaning back on his chest as you gently trace idle figures on his forearms - love between you is as endless as the water cycle in the bathroom - fog condensing on the mirror, only to go back to its liquid form as it rolls down the glass before evaporating again.

You and Jeon Jungkook are never-ending.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathes when he pulls away to rest his cheek on the top of your head. He gently rocks you from side to side. “I’m so grateful to be married to you.”

“You’re my favourite husband,” you tease, but also test the waters, seeing if he’ll call you wife then.

He doesn’t. Instead, he replies, “I hope you don’t have too many husbands, that’d be upsetting.”

You turn in his arms, the water now spraying your back. “Just you, Kook. There’s always just been you.”

He caves in, brushing his mouth on yours again in the most intimate caress. “What would I do without you?”

You don’t know about him, but you’d wither. You’d wither and fade into darkness, or maybe you’d freeze like the first layer of the ground when the cold hits. You’d stop existing, you’d stop evolving, because he’s the theory of your evolution. He’s your character arc, the reason why you were put on this Earth years ago.

“I want all of you,” you breathe against his lips, and he deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You welcome it in, hands getting lost in his now wet hair. His own hands hold your hips firmly, pressing you on his slowly growing erection. Before it goes out of control, you pull away, grabbing a bar of soap to wash him.

He almost purrs under your hands as they trace every line and curve of him. Eyes shut, a small smile on his lips that turns into a pout whenever you let go of him. He’s incredibly adorable - the very reason why your heart skips beat nowadays.

Why your heart ever skipped beats to begin with.

“Let me wash you too,” he murmurs when you’re done, though you haven’t touched his dick yet.

It now stands proud and tall, pointing towards you, leaking precum as you rub the bar of soap in your hands to get some foam. He watches you as you put the soap down, and you wink up at him.

“I’m not done yet.”

This time he shudders when you grab the base of his dick, gently jerking him off once so that you can clean his shaft. You then move to his balls, and you massage them with the most gentle touch you can muster up, not wanting to trigger his arousal right now.

No, you just want him to enjoy the act of being thoroughly cleaned up, to be taken care of in every way he deserves.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, and you don’t resist when he pulls you in a kiss. When he switches place with you so that he can wash away the soap from his body, you watch the residue of foam going down the drain, awaiting your turn.

Jungkook’s large hands are infinitely soft, infinitely pure - like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. Looking up at those big doe eyes you love more than the universe itself, you know Jungkook has, in truth, never done any wrong. How could he when he’s the purest soul you’ve ever come across?

He hums as he cleans you, the song you danced to earlier. Your song, you reckon, and you join in, the lyrics floating in the air surrounding you. Though you’ve never been the singer that he is, Jungkook still cleans you, thoroughly, gently, and when he’s done he puts you under the cascade of water, and you let it wash the soap away.

“You’re a fucking angel,” Jungkook whispers, and your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. Not remembering when they closed, you let them adjust to the light, but Jungkook is quick to crash his mouth against yours, ravishing a soul-ending kiss on your lips.

When he turns you away from the water, your back to him as his own back is now showered with wet warmth, you immediately bend down. Your arousal hasn’t lessened since the actions that transpired in the bed, and Jungkook runs a finger through your folds once.

“You’re already so wet,” he praises. “My good fucking girl.”

“Like animals, right?”

He doesn’t offer a verbal answer - he answers in the physical, brushing his tip on your folds. It’s quite larger than the tip of his finger, and you shudder as your eyes shut as you brace your hands on the ceramic of the wall. The broad tip brushes past your lips before Jungkook pulls out, resting his dick between your ass cheeks.

“Like animals,” he agrees. “Like that first time I fucked you. In the living room of the cottage.” He pushes all the way in then, and you moan loudly, rocking forward. He grabs your hips, fingers digging in the supple flesh. “I wish someone would have found us there. Would have seen just how fucking hot you are when I’m fucking you.”

And then he’s pounding into you, so hard your cheek ends up pressed against the wall as you cry out your pleasure. Even through the haze that grows in your mind, you think about his leg - you know it doesn’t hurt like at the beginning, but whenever he fucks you like that, you’re afraid he’ll hurt himself.

But he doesn’t let you voice your concern. He’s quick to bend forward until he’s able to wrap your throat in your favourite necklace, tattooed fingers cutting the blood circulation to your brain until you grow so dizzy you struggle to stand.

He lets go of your neck then, but he’s still not done jackhammering his hips into yours. He’s a moaning and grunting mess, and the sinful melody of your name and the curses that tumble from his lips slowly guide you towards a new orgasm.

Slowly, yet when he pinches your nipple, hard enough to hurt, your climax hits at the speed of light, and your legs give out under you. You’re lucky he’s holding you up, though you shake through every powerful wave, his name the only thing you know.

You don’t think you need to know anything else anyway. There’s just him - there’s always just going to be him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses as your walls clench around his dick again and again, though the muscle grows weaker. When your orgasm leaves you empty and spent, Jungkook pulls you up so that he can wrap his arms around you again, and he litters soft kisses on the back of your shoulder and on your neck. “Let’s go back to the bed,” he whispers. “I’m not done with you at all.”

You whine as he pulls out of you, leaving you far too empty for your liking. He steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel that he holds open for you. You follow him out, and he wraps it around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he turns around to grab a towel for himself. You quickly dry yourself, and then Jungkook puts the towels on the hooks behind the door.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he offers you a lovesick smile.

“Of course,” he says.

He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the bedroom. The candles still flicker like dozens of little ghosts, and though you’ve disturbed some of the rose petals already, they still await you. Uncaring about them, Jungkook brings you back to the bed, and he helps you lay down before joining you, lying next to you. His hand rests flat on your stomach, and you share a timeless look of pure love and adoration.

An eternity with him… When did you get so lucky?

Jungkook must have seen the yearning in your gaze because he climbs back on top of you, his weight a comforting reminder of everything he is to you. Still hard, his dick lays on your pelvis, and you look down at yourselves long enough to watch him align himself with your entrance.

“Look at me,” he asks before he pushes in.

Like a moth to the flame, you’re unable to resist the dive in his eyes that follows. So you dive deep, one hand on his cheek and the other on his waist. And when he pushes all the way in, you whisper your love for him. He stills deep inside of you, and presses one kiss to the side of your face.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, voice heavy with emotion. “My wife.”

The words clang through you repeatedly. Like Echo is screaming them back to you, making sure they are carved into your bones and etched into your soul. You think they have been before, but hearing him say it makes it real, seals the deal until your souls truly unite to be just one. Until your love for him expands, growing bigger than the universe, encompassing everything that once was you and everything that will now be you, plural.

“My husband,” you whisper back.

“I love you.”

He slowly pulls out, and then he softly pushes back in as he rests his forehead against yours. There is so much love between you and him that you feel like you’re drowning in the bliss of him, like you’ll forever be changed by this moment in time.

In truth, you know he’s already forever changed you. And as he makes love to you slowly, languidly, sensually, kissing you long enough to remind you that you made it, that you fucking made it through all the hurdles, you know that you forever changed him, too.

And isn’t that beautiful? The power that one’s soul can have over another’s soul? The stars agree - they’ve always known about you and Jeon Jungkook. Happy, they shine in constellations for the two of you, slowly making place amongst their ranks. Because the astral bodies know one day they’ll welcome you in the night sky you love so deeply - two new stars, once stardust and now burning, for the eternity that is yours.

But first, you have a very long road ahead of you. And though life might take one of you before the other, your commitment to one another is endless - even if one of you shines up above before the other, you’ll always be with each other.

So when you’re finally spent after a night of love making, of promises and forevers whispered into one another’s ear, you listen to his heartbeat. You listen to it, your favourite melody, even before you knew its existence. It’s beautiful, simple - strong and steadfast. Mostly, it is yours.

Before you fall asleep, you offer him one last promise -

“I will always love you, Jeon Jungkook.”

☆☆☆☆☆

The End. I am crying rereading this, I can't believe I started this fic as a sequel to @daechwitatamic's What Was Hidden fic and now I'm 223.9k words later into a story that will forever hold a special place in my heart. What did you guys think of it? Was the end fitting for our favourite couple?

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when the end comes jungkook smut jungkook fic jungkook x reader my bb ella this story yall broke me and put me back together

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