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leaucine · 5 days ago

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➷ That Kiss ➹ ║ JJK

✦ synopsis; two best friends fake-date for a wedding, but one unexpected kiss sparks real feelings, jealousy, and a confession that changes everything.

✦ genre; fluff, angst, fake dating, best friends to lovers

✦ pairing; jungkook x reader

✦ word count; 7.5k+.

Part 2

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The wedding invitation arrived on a lazy Thursday evening, exuding an elegance that starkly contrasted with the casual clutter of Y/N's apartment. Crafted from thick, cream cardstock with gold-foiled lettering and sealed with a wax emblem, it resembled something out of a historical drama. Y/N stared at it lying on her hallway floor, juxtaposed against her worn Converse and a half-empty Amazon package containing face masks and a lint roller.

She picked it up, her stomach sinking as she noticed a small handwritten note tucked inside, penned in Eunha's neat handwriting:

Please, you really have to come. It just won't be the same without you. You mean so much to me, and I want to share this happiest moment with you. And yes, bring your boyfriend too—the one with tattoos.

Love, Eunha.

Y/N stared down at the letter in her hands, the soft weight of the cream cardstock somehow heavier than it looked. Her mind began to wander, drifting through memories and tangled thoughts. How had her life led to this strange, almost surreal moment?

She thought about Eunha, her new friend, so vibrant and warm, who had quickly become one of the few people she truly trusted. Their friendship had blossomed fast—two souls unexpectedly connected in the bustle of a busy office.

But then, the weirdness of it all hit her again. Eunha's fiancé was none other than Minjae—her ex-boyfriend.

Minjae. He was her first love—the one who made her heart race with a joy she had never known. They had been so happy once, wrapped in the innocence of first romance, dreaming of endless tomorrows. She had liked him so much, more than she had ever admitted even to herself. But life had other plans. Things hadn't worked out the way they hoped. Minjae had to move to London, and the distance stretched more than just miles between them. The breakup was peaceful, without drama or bitterness, but it still left a hollow ache. Two years had passed since then.

A few months ago, Eunha had transferred to the Seoul office from the London branch. That's where she and Minjae had met—working overseas. They crossed paths, fell in love, and now they were getting married.

When Eunha joined the office, something about her clicked with Y/N instantly. She was warm, easy to talk to, and quickly became someone Y/N genuinely trusted. So when Y/N later found out that Eunha was dating Minjae—her ex—it caught her off guard. The timing, the connection, it was unexpected. A little strange. But she came to terms with it quickly. There were no grudges, no bitterness—just quiet acceptance. And more than that, she was happy for them. Truly. Life moved the way it wanted to.

She had moved on. No matter how much Minjae had once meant to her, those days were memories now, carefully tucked away but never forgotten. It was awkward at first, navigating this new dynamic with Eunha and Minjae intertwined in her life. But Eunha was genuine, kind, and a true friend. And eventually, Y/N found peace in the unexpected triangle fate had drawn.

Y/N was still holding the wedding invitation when her phone buzzed. It was a message from Nari.

Nari: Please tell me you got the invite. Don't even think about skipping it.

Nari wasn't just Y/N's close friend—she was also friends with Eunha and had received an invite to the wedding herself. So it made sense she knew about it.

Y/N smiled softly, about to reply, when another message popped up.

Nari: Ugh, I have to go back to Busan. My dad's not doing well, so I can't make it to the wedding.

Y/N's heart tightened hearing that, but Nari's teasing tone quickly followed.

Nari: But you? You better be going... and definitely with that tattooed Greek god you keep bragging about.

Y/N groaned into her palms. "I'm an idiot."

Because yes, she had invented a boyfriend—well, not invented. More like borrowed. Jeon Jungkook, her best friend and occasional emotional crutch, just happened to be real. Kind, thoughtful, achingly attractive, and absurdly aware of how girls tripped over their own feet looking at him.

The lie had been a stupid white one. They were at a cozy dinner party, and someone had asked if she was still hung up on Minjae. She wasn't. Not really. But in a moment of panic, she'd said she was dating someone new. When pressed, she'd blurted out: "Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook."

Now she had an invitation in her hand and the beginnings of a full-blown identity crisis.

Before she could spiral, she called Nari.

"You told them you were dating Jungkook?" Nari wheezed from the other end.

"I panicked!"

"You panicked and chose Jungkook? Literal boyfriend material? Sweetheart? Puppy in a leather jacket?"

"I didn't think it would matter. It was months ago. I thought she'd forget."

"She handwrote a note, Y/N. You know what this means, right?"

Y/N sighed. "I have to go."

"And take Jungkook."

Y/N closed her eyes. "I can't ask him. He's probably busy. He has clients. A life."

Nari paused. "...You do remember he once cancelled a date because your ceiling was leaking, right? Showed up in pajamas with a toolkit?"

Y/N laughed softly. "Yeah."

"You're his girl. He'd go to hell if you asked him."

"Please take care of your dad, okay? Keep me updated."

"I will. Have fun with your date, you lucky girl!"

Godhhh. And the call ended.

· · ─────── ·��· ─────── · ·

Baby 🫀: hey, so...

Baby 🫀: remember when I maybe said we were dating to someone

Baby 🫀: and it may have been Eunha

Baby 🫀: and she may have just sent me a wedding invite

Baby 🫀: and also called you "the one with the tattoos"

He replied within ten seconds.

Kook 🐰: i am the one with the tattoos

Kook 🐰: are we going to a wedding??? omg is there cake

Kook 🐰: also how convincing is our relationship

Kook 🐰: on a scale of "holding hands" to "accidental makeout in front of grandma"

Y/N dropped her phone, face flushed. Then picked it up again and called him.

He answered like he'd been waiting.

"Well, well, well," he teased. "If it isn't my fake girlfriend."

"You're not even surprised," she groaned.

"Not even a little." He sounded smug. "You talk about me way too much. This was bound to happen."

She huffed. "Okay. Look. You don't have to say yes, but I need someone to go with me to this wedding. Just for the weekend. I'll pay for the suit. And—"

"Stop." His voice dropped into something warm and gentle. "You don't have to bribe me, Y/N. I'll go."

Her chest eased.

"Really?"

"I would do anything for you Y/n"

Y/N smiled, the knot in her chest unwinding. "Thank you, Kook."

"You don't have to thank me. You know I'm always down to be your emergency contact or fake boyfriend or whatever the hell you need."

He meant it.

She knew that.

Jungkook had always shown up.

When Minjae left for London and Y/N came home crying into a cardigan three sizes too big, it was Jungkook who showed up at her door with takeout in hand and an understanding silence. He let her cry into his hoodie, held her through the worst parts, never pushing, never judging.

They had been best friends since their first year of college. He was the one who quietly became something. He made her laugh when heartbreak threatened to swallow her whole, stayed over when her anxiety spiked in the dead of night, and somehow remembered the exact way she liked her tea: sweet, milky, with just a touch of cinnamon. Through every late-night study session, every celebration, every moment of doubt and every burst of hope, Jungkook was there. The kind of person who was both her best friend and so much more—the one who knew her better than she knew herself and loved her for all her messy, beautiful parts.

God, their friendship was everything—unshakable, comforting, and deeply real.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The sharp buzz of the doorbell sliced through the quiet apartment. Y/N took a steadying breath and crossed to the door. She swung it open—and froze.

There he was.

Jungkook, standing in the dim porch light, looking like a damn movie star caught in the spotlight. His hair was slightly tousled, the dark strands falling just enough to brush his forehead. His eyes—those deep, intense dark eyes—caught hers and held them hostage, sparkling with quiet mischief and something unspoken. He wore a perfectly tailored white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone just enough to reveal the smooth line of his collarbone and the hint of a tattoo peeking from beneath. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing lean, muscular forearms that spoke of strength without effort. His charcoal gray slacks hugged his hips in all the right places, and the way he shifted his weight—casual yet commanding—made Y/N's breath catch.

A slow smirk curved his lips as he caught her staring. "What's wrong? Did I just make you freeze?" His voice was low, teasing, dripping with playful confidence.

Y/N blinked, cheeks flaming. "Am I supposed to be moving?"

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a gentle tease. "I'm just saying... am I looking that good tonight?"

She swallowed, heart pounding. "Maybe a little."

"Good." He grinned, then softened. "Take your time. I'm in no rush."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Inside, he heard the soft click of her door opening, followed by the quiet pad of her footsteps. Jungkook looked up from where he stood, adjusting his cuff.

And then he froze.

Y/N stepped into the room, and for a second, everything else faded—the ticking clock, the low hum of the city outside, even his own breath. She looked... ethereal. The dress hugged her in all the right places, the fabric shimmering like water under moonlight every time she moved. Her hair was pinned delicately, a few loose strands framing her face in a way that made her look both elegant and soft. The glow on her skin wasn't from makeup—it was something deeper, something luminous that he couldn't name. Her eyes, bright and steady, locked onto his, and suddenly he felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

Not just pretty. Not just beautiful.

She looked unreal.

His throat tightened. "You look..." His voice cracked, and he had to swallow before continuing, softer now. "You look stunning."

And he meant it—every syllable soaked in something he wasn't ready to admit·

Jungkook smiled — genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle just enough to be irresistible.

He reached out and offered his arm.

The sleek black car waited outside, polished to a mirror shine. Jungkook slid into the driver's seat with smooth confidence, tossing the keys to Y/N to unlock the passenger door. As she settled inside, the interior smelled of leather and a hint of his cologne—clean, with a trace of something warm and woody that made her pulse quicken. They didn't speak much as the city lights blurred past the windows. Jungkook finally broke the silence, pulling from his jacket pocket a small folded piece of paper—the wedding manual.

"Read this," he said, his voice low but teasing. "Important stuff: who to greet first, where to stand, when to smile, and when to avoid dancing disasters."

Y/N laughed softly, unfolding the notes and scanning the neat, careful handwriting.

Jungkook caught her eye and winked. "We've got this."

And just like that, the night felt less daunting—and a little more like an adventure they'd face together.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Outside the venue, the soft hum of music drifted into the evening air. Jungkook stood beside Y/N, arm looped through hers.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, inhaling slowly. "Just a little nervous."

He looked at her, calm and steady. "We've got this, alright? Just trust me."

Y/N met his gaze and gave a small, genuine smile. "Yeah. Okay."

They stepped inside, moving together through the crowd with quiet confidence. A few steps in, Y/N spotted them near the floral arch — Minjae and Eunha, side by side under the soft glow of fairy lights.

Jungkook leaned slightly closer and murmured, "You're glowing more than the bride, just so you know."

She gave him a look. "Shut up."

They walked forward together.

Eunha spotted her almost immediately and broke into a wide, genuine smile. "Y/N!"

Before she knew it, she was being pulled into a warm hug.

"You look gorgeous," Eunha beamed, pulling back to take her in. "Like, actually stunning."

"You're the one in a wedding dress," Y/N smiled, eyes soft. "You look beautiful. So happy."

"I am," Eunha said quietly. "And I'm so glad you're here."

Y/N glanced at Minjae — standing just behind her, his expression slightly awkward, but polite.

"Minjae," she said with a nod. "Congratulations. I really wish you both the best. A lot of happiness and peace."

"Thanks," he said, lips twitching slightly into a smile. "That means a lot."

Jungkook, silent until now, stepped just a little closer.

Eunha's eyes flicked toward him and lit up.

"Oh! Jungkook, right?" she said, grinning. "I've seen you before. You've picked Y/N up from work a few times."

Jungkook smiled, just the slightest tilt of his lips. "I have. You have a good memory."

"Hard to forget someone that good-looking in a car like that," she teased. "We all used to peek through the blinds."

Y/N groaned. "Eunha!"

"What? It's true!" Eunha laughed. "You'd come out with that little tote bag, and he'd be leaning on his car like he was in some photoshoot."

Jungkook glanced down at Y/N with a cocked brow, amused. "So you never told me you had fans at your office?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I was trying to protect your ego."

Eunha was grinning from ear to ear. "You two... I honestly didn't see this coming. You guys always said we are 'just best friends,' remember?"

"Yeah, well," Y/N said softly, looking up at Jungkook for a fleeting second. "Fate's weird like that."

"It really is," Eunha agreed. "But I'm glad. You seem... good together."

There was no malice in her voice. No awkwardness lingering. Just a girl who had found her own happiness, and was genuinely happy to see someone she once worked beside finding hers too.

Jungkook held his glass up slightly. "To fate, then."

Y/N laughed. "And good wine."

They clinked glasses and stepped aside as another couple approached to greet the newlyweds.

As Y/N and Jungkook walked toward the open bar, she exhaled softly — like a little weight had been lifted.

"You handled that well," Jungkook murmured beside her, tucking his hand gently against the small of her back.

"I think I've officially leveled up," she whispered. "No tears. No awkward tension. No wine thrown at the groom."

He grinned. "I'm proud of you. Also slightly disappointed. I was kind of rooting for a wine-throwing moment."

"Too bad. You'll have to settle for civil emotional growth."

He looked at her, gaze lingering. "I could get used to that."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The venue was alive with soft laughter, low music, and the occasional clink of glasses. Around them, couples melted into each other—some stealing quick, shy kisses, others lost in slow, lingering embraces. The warmth and closeness in the room built like a tide, rising and pulling everyone closer.

Among the crowd, a few familiar faces from the office watched from a corner — the ones who had been told Jungkook was her boyfriend. They stood in a small circle, eyes darting between her and Jungkook with poorly hidden curiosity. The atmosphere around them buzzed with the intimacy of slow dancing and the growing closeness of every couple swaying to the music. The unspoken rhythm of the night whispered one thing: here, in this moment, it was only natural.

Jungkook's voice broke through the hum, low and steady. "May I have this dance?"

She smiled, heart skipping, and nodded, stepping into his space.

His arms circled around her waist with quiet possessiveness, pulling her closer until their bodies aligned perfectly. She slipped her arms around his neck, feeling the steady beat of his pulse beneath her fingertips. His fingers slid to cradle the back of her neck, thumb brushing softly along her jaw. It was a tender touch, but his eyes burned — dark, desperate, like he was barely holding himself together.

He pulled her in slowly at first, savoring the closeness, like he couldn't believe she was finally here — with him.

His eyes flicked to her mouth.

A pause.

A breath.

A choice.

Then — he dipped his head and kissed her.

It started soft — hesitant, like a question. But the moment it happened, something gave way. Like a dam bursting. Like breath after drowning. The kind of kiss that felt like a secret spilling between them. The kind that didn't feel fake at all.

And neither of them pulled away.

Her hands gripped his jacket, pulling him closer, needing more. Their mouths moved in rhythm — lips parting, pressing, tugging. His tongue brushed against hers, cautious at first, but as she responded, all hesitation vanished. Their tongues tangled, teasing and tasting, until the kiss turned messy and breathless, wet with heat and longing. He tilted his head to the side, deepening it further, groaning softly into her mouth. She answered with a quiet whimper, fingers threading into his hair, tugging — desperate and aching like she'd waited too long for this.

His palm slid to the curve of her waist, the other anchoring her by the small of her back as he pressed her against him fully. The world around them fell away — the music, the lights, the people. All that remained was the shared fire in their veins.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths shallow and lips red and swollen. A thin string of saliva still connected them . It was enough — the kiss said everything, and the night held its breath with them.

As the music faded into softer notes, Y/N and Jungkook finally stepped away from the dance floor, still catching their breath from the heat of that kiss. The reception began to slow and guests started making their exits, Y/N and Jungkook stood from their table, the warmth of their earlier kiss still lingering in the space between them. Without needing to say it, they both knew it was time to leave.

Eunha's eyes lit up when she saw them approaching. "You're heading out?" she asked, pulling Y/N into a quick, affectionate hug.

"Yeah," Y/N smiled. "Thank you again—for everything. It was beautiful."

"I'm so glad you came," Eunha said, her voice low and genuine. "Truly."

Minjae offered a polite nod, his eyes flicking briefly between them. "Have a safe drive."

Jungkook returned the nod with quiet confidence, standing close to Y/N but saying nothing more.

Just before they turned to go, Eunha leaned in with a teasing smile. "And hey... that dance? Let's just say the sparks didn't go unnoticed."

Y/N let out a quiet laugh, cheeks warming. "You're imagining things."

"Mmhmm," Eunha hummed playfully, but she didn't push further. "Goodnight, you two."

"Goodnight," they echoed in unison, then slipped out into the cool evening air, side by side.

Jungkook chuckled softly and linked his arm with Y/N's as they made their way to his car. The evening had settled into a calm hush, the buzz from the reception fading behind them. He opened the door for her, waiting until she was settled before sliding into the driver's seat beside her. The car hummed to life, but inside, it was silent—thick with something unspoken.

Y/N stared ahead, her hands in her lap, the ghost of the kiss still lingering at the edge of her thoughts. It had happened. It was real. But it wasn't supposed to mean anything.

She spoke first, voice calm but too practiced.

"About earlier... the kiss."

Jungkook's hands stilled on the wheel. He didn't look at her, just waited.

Y/N took a quiet breath. "It was nothing. Just pretending, right? Everyone was doing it. We were just blending in."

"Yeah," Jungkook said after a moment, his voice unreadable. "Just blending in."

She gave a small, short laugh. "We did cross a line, maybe... but it was necessary. For the act."

He nodded, but said nothing.

Y/N turned slightly toward him. "We're best friends. I hope it won't change anything between us."

Jungkook's jaw tightened at that. He still didn't meet her eyes. "It won't," he said softly.

"It meant nothing," she repeated, as if saying it again would make it true.

"Yeah," he echoed. "Nothing."

But the silence that followed said otherwise.

He kept his eyes on the road. His grip on the wheel was too firm. And though his voice had stayed steady, something inside him had shifted—just slightly, but enough.

She didn't notice.

Or maybe she pretended not to.

And they drove on, both holding tight to a truth they'd agreed on, even if it didn't feel like one.

They drove in silence for a while, the city lights streaming past like distant stars.

When they arrived at her home, Y/N hesitated at the door.

"Stay a bit?" she asked, heart fluttering.

"Not tonight," he said quietly.

She nodded, watching him drive away with a mix of longing and understanding.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The door clicked shut behind her, and for the first time that evening, everything went still.

She leaned back against the wood, her fingers still tingling where they had touched him. The room was dark, moonlight spilling through the windows in soft, silvery lines. No noise. No people. No music. Just the quiet hum of her apartment — and the kiss still lingering on her lips.

She closed her eyes.

It had been... warm. Breathless. Real.

For a moment, she'd forgotten it was all pretend. For a moment, she'd let herself believe the way his hands held her meant something. The way he looked at her — like she was the only one in the room — that it was more than just part of the act.

But it wasn't.

It couldn't be.

They were best friends. That was all they had ever agreed to be.

She pushed off the door, tossing her clutch onto the table and kicking off her heels with a sigh. As she curled up in bed, her fingers unconsciously brushed her lips. A shiver ran down her spine.

It meant nothing, she told herself.

It was just pretending.

And maybe if she repeated it enough, maybe if she said it in her head like a mantra, she'd believe it too.

She turned off the lamp. But long after the lights went out, the memory of his kiss stayed with her, stubborn and soft and impossible to forget.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He sat in the driver's seat for a while after dropping her off. The street was quiet, the world still — but inside him, everything was loud.

That kiss. Her words. The way she smiled, like nothing had changed.

Like it didn't matter.

He let out a shaky breath, leaning his head back against the seat, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of the car. His chest felt tight — not the kind of tight that came from nerves or stress, but the kind that sat heavy in your bones. The kind that comes from being punched in the heart.

"It was just pretending."

He scoffed bitterly to himself, shaking his head. Pretending?

Then why did it feel so real?

Why did his hands still remember the way her waist felt under them, the way she leaned into him like she belonged there?

He had kissed her like he meant it — because he did. Maybe not intentionally, maybe not with a plan. But in that moment, he forgot it was all fake. Forgot the lines. Forgot the act.

And now she was acting like it had never happened.

"We're just best friends. I hope it won't change anything."

God, it already had.

He sat there in silence, jaw clenched so hard it ached. His fingers gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing holding him together. He could still feel the ghost of her lips on his. Still see the softness in her eyes, the way she had looked at him — even if just for a second — like he was more than a friend.

Was he wrong? Did he imagine it?

Or had she just decided that pretending was easier than facing what was really there?

The truth stung: she hadn't felt it the way he did.

To her, it was nothing. A necessity. A moment.

To him, it was everything he had been trying to bury.

He exhaled slowly, blinking against the burn behind his eyes. He didn't cry — he never did. But damn, if it didn't feel like something inside him was breaking.

You're so stupid, he told himself. You let it happen. You let yourself believe—even just for a second—that maybe...

He turned the key and drove away, his heart heavier than when the night started.

And for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like pretending anymore.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A few days after the wedding, Nari had just returned from Busan. Her father was getting better, and now she was eager to catch up with Y/N. They met at their favorite cozy café, where the familiar warmth eased the tension just a little.

"So, how was the wedding?" Nari asked casually, but with a sparkle of curiosity in her eyes.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm and found herself stirring her coffee nervously. "It was... nice."

Nari leaned forward, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Come on, spill the beans. I can tell something happened."

Y/N sighed softly, deciding to just say it. "Okay... Jungkook and I kissed."

Nari's grin widened. "I knew it! How was it?"

Y/N shook her head quickly. "It was nothing. Just pretending, because everyone else was kissing. We didn't want to look out of place. It didn't mean anything."

"We're just best friends," Y/N added firmly. "We can't cross those lines."

There was a brief silence, and then Y/N's voice dropped a little. "But... Jungkook's been kind of distant lately. I don't know why. I think I might've hurt him somehow. But we're just best friends. It shouldn't mean anything to him, right?"

Nari's smile softened. "You never know. Sometimes we get stuck thinking everything from our own side. Maybe you should just talk to him—clear things up. Communication's the key."

Y/N nodded, lost in thought. "Maybe you're right."

⋆˙⟡ Jungkook’s POV ⟡˙⋆

It's been a few days since I started acting distant around Y/N. I hate how I've pulled away, how I barely talk to her the way I used to. I hate that I made things awkward between us. What hurts the most is when she said the kiss meant nothing — that it was just pretending. Like it didn't matter to her at all.

But to me... it did.

That moment echoed in my mind, cutting deeper than I thought possible. I felt exposed and raw, like something important had slipped through my fingers.

I keep telling myself she's just my best friend. And that I'm the one who messed this up. The one who should take responsibility.

So I decided to invite her over for a movie night. No pressure, no expectations — just a chance to be close again, to try and fix what I let slip.

Because no matter what, I still care. More than I'm willing to admit.

Kook 🐰: Movie night at my place. You in?

Baby 🫀 : Depends. Are you actually going to let me pick the movie this time?

Kook 🐰 : Haha, maybe. But only if you promise not to pick a sappy romance.

Baby 🫀 : No promises.

Kook 🐰 : Deal. Come around 7? I'll have popcorn and my dog ready.

Baby 🫀 : The dog or you?

Kook 🐰 : Both, obviously.

Baby 🫀 : You're impossible. See you then.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Y/N's heart fluttered nervously as she climbed the stairs to Jungkook's apartment. The past few days had felt strange — quiet and distant between them — and she couldn't shake the small knot of guilt twisting in her stomach. She knew she hadn't been herself around him lately, and now, finally, it was time to try and mend things. When she opened the door, she hadn't expected to see anyone else.

On the couch sat a woman — elegant and poised, with soft curls framing her face and a warm smile that seemed natural and genuine. She was clearly absorbed in conversation with Jungkook, their heads close together over a laptop resting on the coffee table.

Y/N stepped inside Jungkook's apartment, her eyes meeting his briefly. There was something faint brushing at her heart, but she wasn't sure what it was.

"Hey," Jungkook greeted softly. "Didn't expect you so early."

"Hey," Y/N replied, a small smile on her lips.

Jungkook nodded toward the woman seated on the couch. "This is Hyejin — we've been working together on a project the past few weeks."

Hyejin stood and smiled warmly. Jungkook then turned to Y/N. "And this is my best friend."

Y/N gave a polite nod, feeling a little warmth at the simple introduction.

Y/N glanced between them. "You're busy tonight?"

Jungkook shook his head. "No, just wrapped up."

Hyejin glanced toward the door. "I should get going. I'll just take a cab."

Jungkook's tone softened but was firm. "No, it's alright. Stay for a bit."

Hyejin hesitated, but Jungkook continued, "I already made dinner. Please, have dinner with us."

His eyes briefly shifted to Y/N. "Please," he added quietly.

Hyejin smiled back, relaxing. "Alright, then. Thank you."

What was meant to be a quiet movie night for two quietly shifted into a trio — Jungkook's caring nature balancing his attention between both women, making sure everyone felt welcome.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, absently scratching behind Jungkook's dog's ears as the movie played. Or at least, it 'should've' been playing. Instead, Hyejin had commandeered the remote, scrolling through options while Jungkook leaned over her shoulder, pointing at titles with an easy familiarity that made Y/N's stomach twist.

"This one's a classic," Hyejin said, tapping a thriller. "You love these, right?"

Jungkook grinned. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." She smirked, nudging him with her elbow.

Y/N's fingers stilled in the dog's fur.

Since when did Jungkook like thrillers? He always groaned when she picked them, insisting on comedies or action flicks. But now, here he was, nodding along like Hyejin had cracked some secret code to his tastes.

The movie started, but Y/N couldn't focus. Not when Hyejin laughed a little too loudly at Jungkook's dry commentary. Not when she reached over to steal a handful of popcorn, her fingers brushing his. Halfway through the film, Hyejin's phone buzzed. She excused herself to take the call in the kitchen, leaving Y/N and Jungkook in charged silence.

Y/N stared at the screen, jaw tight. "She's nice."

Jungkook stretched his arms behind his head, oblivious. "Yeah, she's great. Really sharp—her ideas for the project are insane."

"I bet." Y/N's voice was clipped.

That got his attention. He turned, brow furrowing. "You okay?"

"Perfect." She forced a smile. "Just tired."

He studied her for a beat too long before Hyejin returned, sliding back onto the couch—"closer to Jungkook this time."

Y/N stood abruptly. "I should go."

Jungkook blinked. "Now? It's not even—"

Early morning tomorrow, she lied, already grabbing her bag.

Hyejin gave her a sympathetic look. "Oh no, did we pick a bad movie?"

"No, it's not that." Y/N avoided Jungkook's gaze. "Thanks for having me."

She was out the door before he could protest.

Outside, the night air was cool against her flushed skin. She barely made it three steps before her phone buzzed.

Kook 🐰: hey. you left your jacket.

Kook 🐰: also you're a terrible liar. what's wrong?

Y/N stared at the screen, fingers hovering. She could play it off. She should. But the image of Hyejin's effortless charm, Jungkook's easy laughter—it stuck in her chest like a thorn.

Baby 🫀: nothing. just didn't realize you had company.

Kook 🐰: are you jealous?

Her breath hitched.

Baby 🫀: don't flatter yourself.

Kook 🐰: then come back inside.

Kook 🐰: unless you're scared to admit something.

Y/N's pulse roared in her ears.

Jungkook appeared at the door holding Y/N's jacket, but before she could reach for it, his hand gently caught her wrist. His eyes searched hers, calm but firm.

"You're not going anywhere," he said quietly.

Y/N's breath caught. She glanced back toward the living room where the movie credits were rolling on the screen — the night coming to an end, but something unspoken lingering between them.

Jungkook turned toward the kitchen, calling softly, "Hyejin, let me book a cab for you."

Hyejin, already gathering her things, smiled warmly. "Thanks, but it's okay. I can manage."

"No, it's fine," Jungkook insisted, pulling out his phone and quickly ordering a ride. "I want to make sure you get home safe."

Y/N watched him carefully, a little surprised by how naturally he took care of Hyejin, despite their obvious closeness. There was no awkwardness, only a gentle ease.

The door clicked softly behind Hyejin, and suddenly the apartment felt quiet. Y/N and Jungkook settled back onto the couch, the silence no longer charged but soft — an unspoken invitation to start mending the space between them.

Jungkook's voice broke the silence first, low and gentle. "What's wrong?"

Y/N blinked, startled by the question.

He leaned a little closer, eyes searching. "Are you... sad? Because we planned a movie night, but someone else ended up here."

"No," she said quickly, too quickly. "I'm not sad."

But Jungkook wasn't fooled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, voice softening. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... You know, it's just—she's kind, and she's been such a big help. Hyejin's been with me through so much lately, helping with work, always pushing when I get stuck. I couldn't just tell her to go."

He reached out before she could respond, pulling her gently closer.

They settled side by side on the couch, his arm wrapping around her shoulders naturally, like it belonged there.

"What movie do you want to watch now?" he asked quietly, voice almost a whisper.

Y/N shrugged, leaning her head on his shoulder, the familiar comfort easing the tightness in her chest.

He smiled softly, his warmth seeping into her skin as he reached for the snacks they'd brought.

Together, they watched the screen, the world shrinking down to just this quiet room and the soft glow of the movie. Halfway through, Y/N's eyelids grew heavy. Without a word, Jungkook shifted, gently lifting her in his arms. He carried her to his bed, tucking the blanket around her with careful hands.

He stood beside the bed for a long time after tucking her in. The blanket was pulled gently over her shoulders, her hair fanned out on the pillow, face peaceful in sleep. But inside him, everything was the opposite of peaceful.

He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing through his nose.

Hyejin was a good girl.

Beautiful, bright. Sharp-minded and always composed.

And yeah... she was into him. She hadn't said it out loud, not yet—but it didn't need to be said. The way she lingered sometimes, the soft teasing in her voice, the way her gaze held his just a little longer than necessary. He wasn't blind.

And he hadn't invited her over tonight. That part mattered to him.

He'd planned tonight with Y/N.

He always did, without even realizing it sometimes. The moment the week wore him down, when he couldn't see past the blueprints and deadlines and exhaustion—somewhere in his head, he just wanted to hear her laugh, sit beside her, not talk at all if she didn't want to. But then the meeting had stretched. The project had hit a final snag. Hyejin needed his help with the last-minute presentation, and it had made sense to finish it together. By the time she was there, it had already started. He hadn't meant for it to overlap.

Still... he'd seen the look on Y/N's face when she walked in.

That flicker.

She didn't say anything, not really. She never did. But he could tell.

And now, watching her sleep, that ache only deepened.

Why did it hurt like this?

Girls had shown interest before. Pretty ones. Smart ones. Some had even been bold enough to ask him out directly. But he'd never felt like this—never this confusion, this fear, this pull he couldn't explain.

With Y/N... it was always different.

It wasn't about her being beautiful—though she was. Or talented—or that too.

And now... he was scared.

Scared that he'd crossed a line.

Scared that she'd felt it.

Scared that if he kept letting his feelings grow like this, he'd ruin everything.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, dropping his face into his hands.

"I have to do something," he muttered quietly to himself. "I can't let this—"

He exhaled. "I can't risk our friendship."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Days Later

Jungkook didn't expect to say yes.

When Hyejin asked if he'd like to grab dinner "just the two of us this time," he'd hesitated.

But then he just… agreed.

Maybe he had to move forward. Maybe whatever he felt for her was just one-sided comfort... maybe.

He told himself it was just attraction. Familiarity.

He told himself that he couldn't wait forever for someone who might not feel the same.

Hyejin was kind. Easy to talk to. Funny, too. And she didn't pretend not to care—she showed up with genuine interest in her eyes, and maybe that was what he needed. Something simpler. Something clear. And yet—every night after he came home, he found himself staring at his phone screen. Wondering if he should text her. Wondering if she was thinking about him too.

But he didn't.

He couldn't.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The engine stuttered—then gave out with a tired sigh.

Y/N sat there, hands still gripping the wheel, staring out at the quiet street. Dusk settled heavy around her, painting the sky in dull streaks of blue and grey. She tried the ignition again. Nothing. The silence in the car felt louder than ever. Her heart beat once. Hard.

She looked down at her phone.

No one else came to mind.

No Nari. No colleagues. No maybes.

Just one name pulsed in her thoughts.

Jungkook.

Because somehow, he was always the one who showed up.

She barely hesitated before tapping his name.

It rang twice.

"Hello?"

His voice. Familiar. Solid.

"Hey... it's me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

A pause. Then gentler, "Y/N? What's wrong?"

"My car broke down. I'm stuck near that gas station on 9th... the one with the closed café."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just... stuck." A nervous laugh escaped her lips. "Didn't know who else to call."

"You did the right thing."

She could already hear movement, the shuffle of keys. "I'm coming."

"Jungkook, you don't have to—"

"I want to."

His voice dropped. "Stay where you are."

The call ended, but something about his last words stayed wrapped around her chest.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Headlights swept across the pavement as the car slowed beside her. Y/N straightened from where she leaned against the hood of her stalled vehicle.

The door swung open.

Jeon Jungkook stepped out.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

He looked obscenely good.

Black slacks, button-up rolled at the sleeves, hair styled effortlessly. Clean, confident, composed. The kind of dressed-up that screamed intention.

She swallowed. "Wow. You look..."

"Don't worry about the car," he cut in gently, stepping close, eyes scanning hers. "I'll handle it. Just come with me."

"I—okay," she said, caught off guard. "Are you... going somewhere?"

He didn't answer right away, just gestured toward the passenger side. She got in.

When he slid in beside her, she asked softly, "Is someone waiting for you?"

His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

"She asked me to have dinner with her."

Y/N glanced at him. "Hyejin?"

He nodded, gaze on the road. "Yeah"

"Oh," she murmured.

A beat passed. The silence buzzed.

Then she asked, quieter still, "Is it a date?"

Jungkook exhaled. "Quite possibly."

She said nothing after that. Neither did he.

The silence felt heavier this time, stretched between them like something fragile. The city lights flickered past the windows, but all she could see was the way he'd dressed up for someone else.

When he pulled up to her building, she unbuckled her seatbelt slowly.

But she didn't get out. Not yet.

"Can I ask something?" she said, barely above a whisper.

He turned to her, patient. "Yeah?"

"She likes you," she said. It wasn't a question.

Jungkook chuckled under his breath. "Yeah. She kind of does."

"She asked you out," she repeated.

He looked at her then—really looked.

"She's a good girl," he said. "And I thought... why not? Maybe I should give it a try."

That hurt more than she expected.

But she only nodded, biting the inside of her cheek, masking the crack in her voice. "Right. Of course. That makes sense."

He didn't say anything.

She opened the door and stepped out, closing it gently behind her.

But his words echoed in her chest, long after he drove away.

"Maybe I should give it a try.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A Few Days Later

She didn't mean to notice it.

Didn't want to.

But she saw them—again.

Jungkook and Hyejin, walking out of the cafe near his office.

He held the door open for her. She laughed at something he said. His eyes softened in that way he never used casually.

Y/N turned away too fast. Her chest burned.

She didn't know what was happening with her.

Or maybe she did. And just didn't want to name it.

She'd seen Jungkook with girls before. Casual dates. Pretty faces, fleeting moments. He'd never made time for them. Never let anyone in.

But this felt... different.

He looked invested.

Not just polite. Not just amused. He looked like someone trying.

Like someone who had chosen to try.

It stung.

God, it stung.

She had no right to feel this way.

She was the one who insisted on labels. "Friends."

She was the one who drew the line after the kiss, who said, "Let's not mess this up."

She was the one who told herself: It's just companionship. No strings. No questions. No feelings.

So why did it feel like something was being ripped from her chest now?

Why did it hurt to see Hyejin lean a little too close?

To watch Jungkook let her?

She shut her eyes.

This wasn't fair.

She was supposed to be okay with this.

But she wasn't.

She hated it.

The quiet ache behind her ribs. The way her thoughts kept looping back. The way her heart clenched when she imagined him texting Hyejin goodnight.

It wasn't just jealousy.

It was loss.

And somewhere in that twisted ache, a cruel little voice whispered:

If you'd said something after the kiss...

If you hadn't been so scared...

Maybe he would've chosen you instead.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She didn't expect to feel it this deeply.

The ache, the sting — the unmistakable pinch in her chest when Nari mentioned that Jungkook wouldn't be coming to their Friday hangout.

"He said he has plans with Hyejin."

That one sentence buzzed inside her skull like a scream. Y/N didn't even realize how long she'd zoned out until her coffee went cold.

She didn't text him. Not for hours. Not that day. Not the next. She couldn't bring herself to look at her phone because every part of her heart felt betrayed by something she had no right to be hurt over.

They were just friends, right?

Right?

So why did it feel like her lungs were caving in?

She ignored his calls. Swiped away his messages. Didn't answer the door once when he knocked on a Saturday night.

She stepped out of her apartment after weeks, the sky was heavy with clouds, the kind of weather that made the air feel thick and quiet. She was headed out to grab some groceries, hoodie pulled tight against the cool breeze.

And then she saw him.

Leaning against his car.

Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. Jaw tight.

As soon as she noticed him, she turned on her heel.

"Don't walk away, Y/N."

His voice—deep and low—cut through the morning chill like a knife.

She froze. Not because he asked her to. But because if she turned around, she might break. And if she broke, she knew he'd see it all.

"What?" she muttered, back still turned. "What do you want?"

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

She scoffed, finally turning. Her eyes flashed with something between anger and heartbreak.

"I'm not avoiding you. I've just been busy."

"Bullshit," Jungkook snapped, stepping forward. "You haven't spoken to me in weeks. What the hell is going on, Y/N?"

She swallowed, crossing her arms — a weak shield against everything she was feeling.

"Nothing's going on. You're the one who's suddenly too busy playing boyfriend."

That hit. He blinked.

"Are you talking about Hyejin?"

"No," she laughed bitterly. "I'm talking about your new ritual of ditching your best friend to take her out."

Jungkook's brows furrowed, tension tightening his shoulders.

"I told you it was a date. I didn't lie."

"And you didn't need to," she snapped. "You don't owe me an explanation."

"Then why are you so damn upset?"

Silence.

He stepped closer, voice quiet now — rough around the edges.

"Y/N... I need to know. Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not acting like anything."

"Like hell you aren't!" His voice cracked — not in volume, but in emotion. He was trying so hard to stay calm, but the heat beneath his skin was rising. "You ignore me, then throw shade about Hyejin. And you still want to pretend like everything between us meant nothing?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it again.

He didn't wait.

"What do you want me to do, huh?" he asked, stepping closer. His eyes searched hers like he was begging for an answer she couldn't give.

"Should I just stop seeing her? Stop living my life? Because we kissed and then you told me we were just friends?!"

Her breath hitched.

"You said it didn't mean anything."

"I lied"

290 notes · View notes

leaucine · 1 month ago

Text

SUTURES & SCARS part 1 ✫ jeon jungkook

CONTAINS: medical!au, surgeon!jungkook x surgeon!reader, slow burn, teasing, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, fighting turned bonding, past and present love, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: well... i'm back with a medical!au inspired by doctor slump (that drama was so good omg). thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoy it!! this work is not revised, and english is not my first language. next part will be uploaded tomorrow!!

my main masterlist! ❀ comment to be on the taglist!

taglist 🩺 @senaqsstuff @jjkluver7 @lovingkoalaface @khadeeeeej @pipipipiiiii @jungkooksmytype @jkxlvrr @whoa-jo @anemonatae @iviamagatitos @nerdycheol @thelilbutifulthings @banana-creampie @beomluvrr @user-190811 @mar-lo-pap @jiminismine4ever @boringmichelle @marilo11 @jenniebyrubies @littlestarstinyseven @kooeuphoria @rayyrayy10 @moonchild1 <3

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

This hospital—one of the most prestigious medical institutions in the country—was never meant to be your landing place. It had a reputation for being exclusive, only taking in the most skilled and accomplished doctors. Under normal circumstances, your application wouldn’t have even made it past the first round. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

They were desperate.

A sudden shortage of doctors had left the trauma surgery department scrambling to find specialists who could take on the relentless workload. And that’s how you, despite not being part of their initial selection, had been handed a contract at the last minute.

Still, there was no warm welcome waiting for you. Your arrival hadn’t been met with admiration or respect. Most of the staff knew exactly who you were—not because of your surgical skills, not because of your work ethic, but because of that video.

The one that had gone viral.

A single moment of frustration, caught on camera and spread across the internet like wildfire.

At your last hospital, you had been drowning. The shifts were relentless, the expectations impossible. No matter how many hours you put in, no matter how many patients you saved, it was never enough. Your superior—an arrogant, self-important man who treated younger doctors like disposable tools—had pushed you too far.

And you had snapped.

You hadn’t planned for your voice to carry across the entire ward. You hadn’t expected someone to be filming. And you certainly hadn’t expected the clip to be uploaded with captions like "Doctor Stands Up to Toxic Work Culture!" and "She Said What We All Wanted To Say!"

But that’s exactly what happened.

You had told your superior—bluntly, unapologetically—that you were tired of being exploited. That working 36-hour shifts with no breaks wasn’t a sign of dedication, it was a sign of systemic failure. That no matter how much you loved medicine, you wouldn’t let yourself be crushed under its weight.

The words had barely left your mouth before his furious response had followed: “if you think you’re so indispensable, why don’t you find somewhere else to work?”

So you did.

Or at least, you tried.

But the video followed you. Some people admired your courage, others saw you as reckless, unprofessional. A liability. Your name was whispered in hospital halls, passed around in hushed conversations. Respected institutions suddenly had no available positions when your application landed on their desks.

Still, you told yourself it didn’t matter. This was a fresh start. You would put your head down, do your job, and prove that you belonged here. But then, of course, there was him.

Jeon Jungkook.

The person who had, at one point, made you want to pull your hair out in medical school. There had always been a gap between you and Jungkook. A space carved not just by time but by opportunity. It started with the entrance exam.

You had worked yourself to the bone, studying until the words blurred together, until caffeine barely kept you functional. And yet, no matter how hard you pushed yourself, Jungkook had ranked higher. He had scored near the top effortlessly, securing his place in the best medical program without breaking a sweat.

While you had to fight for your place every step of the way, Jungkook had walked through the doors like he belonged there.

And, to be fair—maybe he did.

His talent was undeniable. He was the kind of doctor who made procedures look easy, who had an instinct for trauma surgery that couldn’t be taught. But that wasn’t the only reason people gravitated toward him.

It was his face.

The moment Jungkook entered the medical field, his reputation exploded. Patients wanted to be treated by him, some even exaggerating their conditions just for the chance to see him in person. His name spread through social media—the handsome trauma surgeon, the genius doctor who looks like he walked out of a magazine.

You had seen the way people looked at him, how his mere presence commanded attention. And deep down, you hated to admit that you understood why. Because you remembered a time before all of this.

Before the fame. Before the Dr. Jeon Jungkook reputation had taken over.

You remembered late-night study sessions when he was just an annoyingly competitive classmate, back when you were both just students fighting to survive. Back when there was no distance between you. Back when he was just... Jungkook.

And now?

Now, you stood in the same hospital, both specialists in trauma surgery. But while Jungkook had been welcomed with open arms from the beginning, you had barely made it in. You were a last-minute addition, a second choice.

And worse?

He probably didn’t even care.

Maybe he didn’t even remember.

The trauma surgery unit was the kind of place that didn’t allow for distractions. It demanded focus, precision, and expertise. Every decision counted. Every second mattered. That’s why Jeon Jungkook thrived here.

He was respected, no, admired, for his technical skill. But if there was one thing Jungkook lacked, it was an emotional connection to his work. He could save a life with a steady hand and a clear mind, but when it came to anything beyond that, his walls were impenetrable. He’d spent years cultivating that distance—after all, trauma surgery wasn’t the place for sentiment.

The day he returned to the hospital after an extended time away, it should’ve felt routine. But as soon as he walked into the trauma bay, something felt different.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the trauma surgery unit buzzed above, their hum a constant, almost soothing companion to the chaos unfolding below. The scent of sterile antiseptic mixed with the faint tang of blood in the air, and yet, Jungkook moved through it with practiced ease. This was familiar territory. The pressure, the critical patients, the intensity of saving lives—he thrived in it.

Yet today, there was a subtle undercurrent of tension he couldn’t quite shake off.

His gaze swept over the trauma bay, the usual clamor of activity surrounding him, but something felt off. The familiar presence of his colleagues was there, but it wasn’t until he stepped into the main OR corridor that he saw her.

You.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected to see you. The hospital was a big place, and you were a trauma surgeon now, just like him. You were bound to cross paths at some point. But the reality of it hit him all at once. His pulse quickened before he could stop it.

You—the one person who had always challenged him. Who had made him question his approach to everything. You were part of this team now. Not that he had expected anything less. You were brilliant, after all.

You, with your patient-centered approach, always thinking of the person beyond the injury, beyond the trauma. He’d never understood that about you. You were too empathetic, too invested in the stories of the people you saved. To him, it was all about the procedure, the perfection, the technical execution. The detachment was necessary. It kept him sharp.

You were standing by the operating table, your back to him. Your movements were fluid, efficient, as you spoke to a resident with the calm authority that had always been so effortless for you. You had a way of speaking, not loud, not commanding, but with such quiet conviction that it felt like everything you said was an undeniable truth.

His breath hitched in his throat. He hadn’t expected the old feelings to resurface so quickly. There had been years—six of them—between now and the last time he’d seen you. Six years since you had been his rival in medical school, six years since that fateful day when everything had changed.

When Jungkook first heard that a new surgeon was joining the trauma team, the thought barely registered—just another name on the roster, another doctor to either impress or ignore. But for a fleeting second, as he skimmed the email announcing the department’s newest addition, his mind had entertained a thought he hadn’t let in for years. What if it’s her?

It was ridiculous, really—he hadn’t seen you in so long that you’d become more of a memory than a real person.

But some part of him, buried under layers of pride and time, still remembered the way you used to challenge him, push him to be better, and make him feel something he never quite understood.

But here you were, looking the same as you had back then—composed, confident, untouchable.

As his eyes lingered on you, the noise of the trauma unit faded into the background. The beeping of machines, the rushed footsteps of nurses, the rustle of surgical gloves—all of it seemed to dissolve into a soft hum. He didn’t want to feel this way, but the old animosity—the rivalry that had always thrummed just beneath the surface—flickered back to life.

It had started innocently enough. You had been another medical student, just like him. The two of you had been assigned to the same rotations, but where Jungkook was determined to prove himself with hard work and sheer perseverance, you had a different approach. You made it seem easy. Effortless.

It wasn’t that he disliked you—it was the way you moved through everything. The way you never seemed to struggle, never seemed to fall behind. You were always ahead, always one step further. And no matter how much he tried, no matter how much effort he put into studying, it never felt like enough.

The real clash had come in the third year of medical school. Both of you had been assigned to the same trauma surgery rotation. The patient had been a young girl, barely seventeen, who had been in a car crash. Her injuries were grave—broken bones, internal bleeding, and a collapsed lung.

In the OR, there had been no room for egos. At least, that was what Jungkook had thought. But you, always calm, always calculated, had known exactly what to do. The attending had left the two of you in charge, and the moment you had stepped in, it was clear that you were taking control.

“I’ll handle the internal bleeding,” you had said, your voice soft but firm. Your eyes locked onto his, and he had felt something shift in the air, a small but undeniable challenge.

This was your first surgery in a while since the video. And now, standing in the operating room, hands steady despite the weight of everything that had led you here, you knew there was no room for mistakes. Not when everyone was watching. Not when he was watching.

Jungkook had felt his throat tighten. There was no way he was going to let you take over—not now, not after everything he had worked for.

“I’ll lead this one,” he had said, his voice tight, almost too tight.

You had raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Of course you will, doctor. But if you miss something, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Now, Jungkook tried to push the past from his mind as he walked back into the trauma bay. The noise of rushing footsteps, the shouts of nurses, the beeping of monitors all flooded back to him. He had a job to do, and he would do it perfectly, just as he always had.

But there you were, standing at the head of the patient’s bed, giving orders with that same calm, steady demeanor that always made him feel like a novice. Your presence was unmistakable, and though he told himself he didn’t care, the tightness in his chest said otherwise.

The OR was a chaotic, controlled madness. Every second counted, and every decision had to be precise. But even amidst the pressure of a life-or-death situation, there was one thing that always managed to break through: the undeniable clash between you and Jungkook.

The patient on the operating table had sustained severe trauma—a shattered femur, multiple fractures to the ribs, and internal bleeding. The first few minutes had been smooth, the team working together efficiently to stabilize her. But the situation had quickly escalated. She wasn’t responding to the fluids they had administered, and her vitals were dropping rapidly. Her blood pressure was dangerously low, and the internal bleeding was proving harder to control than they anticipated.

Instead, your eyes were on him. Watching him. Your gaze was sharp, almost like a challenge.

"Get the hemorrhage controlled," Jungkook ordered, his voice sharp as he focused on the screen displaying the vitals.

"I’m on it," you replied, stepping in to assist the anesthesiologist with stabilizing the airway, watching her oxygen levels as the other doctors worked on her fractures. There was a quiet efficiency to your movements. It was the same calm approach you’d had in medical school, the one that had driven Jungkook crazy all those years ago.

But this time, the two of you weren’t in sync.

You reached for a clotting agent, about to administer it, when Jungkook’s hand shot out to stop you.

“No, that’s not the first thing we should be using,” he said, his tone dismissive as he moved to the other side of the table. “Clotting agents aren’t going to solve this if we don’t address the internal bleeding first.”

You paused for a moment, the air thick with tension. “I know what I’m doing, Jeong-woo. We don’t need to delay any longer. Her vitals are crashing.”

“She’s not going to survive if we don’t control the internal bleeding first. You’re always looking for the quick fix, but you can’t just keep throwing medications at the problem and hope it’ll solve itself,” Jungkook shot back, his words sharp, his focus never wavering from the patient.

There was a small but noticeable pause before you spoke again, this time more firmly. “I’m not throwing anything at the problem. I’m trying to stabilize her enough so we can actually get to the root cause of the issue, instead of playing catch-up with her blood pressure. You’re too focused on your sterile approach, Jungkook. This isn’t about just getting it done—it’s about caring for the whole person.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “We are caring for the whole person, but we need to stop acting like we’re treating some emotional case. This is trauma surgery. We need to act fast and with precision, not waste time comforting a patient who’s already in critical condition.”

The words cut through the tension like a knife. It was always this way with you—compassionate, almost to a fault, and unwilling to see the raw practicality that Jungkook valued so highly in this field.

"You don’t understand," you said quietly, but there was an edge to your voice now. "It’s not just about speed, it’s about being mindful of the body’s limits. You’re not seeing the full picture here."

Jungkook took a deep breath, trying to rein in the rising irritation in his chest. He had always found your approach frustrating. The way you treated patients like emotional beings, rather than just cases to be solved. To him, it was a weakness, one that had no place in trauma surgery. This wasn’t some soft-care ward; it was a battlefield where the strongest survived.

“Your approach is too emotional,” he finally spat out, barely keeping his voice low enough for the team not to overhear. “You’re making decisions based on what you feel instead of what’s medically necessary.”

Your eyes narrowed as you shot him a look, but you didn’t let the argument show on your face. Instead, you focused on the patient, your hands still working with precision, despite the fact that you could feel every word he threw at you like a punch.

"We’re all in this for the same reason, Jungkook," you muttered, your voice unwavering. "The difference is, I’m not willing to sacrifice everything else for the sake of 'just getting it done.' I won’t lose my patients just because I’m trying to be quick and detached."

The tension was palpable. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, but neither of you could back down. It wasn’t just professional pride at stake; it was something deeper—something that had started back in medical school, that simmered beneath every exchange. You were both experts, both brilliant in your own right, but the differences in how you viewed your profession were beginning to clash violently, both on and off the operating table.

The situation was growing worse, faster than anyone had anticipated. The patient’s blood pressure plummeted even further, and despite the efforts to control the bleeding, she was slipping away. The constant beeping of the monitors only intensified the pressure mounting on both of you.

“I’m telling you, we need to clamp the artery,” Jungkook said, frustration seeping into his voice now as he leaned over the patient’s abdomen. "We can’t waste any more time with these temporary fixes."

“No,” you retorted quickly, taking a step forward to assess the patient yourself. "She’s bleeding internally because her system can’t cope with the stress. Clamping the artery will only worsen the shock. I’m going to administer a vasopressor first to help stabilize her blood pressure before we do anything more invasive."

It was clear you weren’t backing down. Jungkook shot you a look—angry, dismissive—but he didn’t have the luxury of time to argue further. He had to act.

“Fine,” he muttered through clenched teeth, "But this better work."

You kept your gaze steady on the patient’s vitals, ignoring his sharp, biting criticism as you prepared the medication.

For a moment, the room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the sound of rapid beeping as the seconds ticked by.

Just as the situation began to spiral out of control, the anesthesiologist called out. The patient’s heart rate dropped drastically. It was now or never.

Without thinking, you and Jungkook moved in sync, both of you leaning over the patient, working together despite the tension that had been building all along. You shoved him aside just as his hand was about to clamp the artery, pushing your way in to apply the pressors. Your heart raced, your hands steady despite the heat of the moment.

And then, something happened. Amidst the frenzy, as you both fought to save the woman’s life, you found that the team was working together in a way that only you two could manage. Despite the constant bickering, despite the criticisms, you both knew how to make it work—however begrudgingly.

The crash didn’t happen. Slowly, the woman’s vitals began to stabilize.

Hours later, as the team was finishing up, you stood off to the side of the break room, your hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline. Your back was to the wall, and you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension that still buzzed through you.

Jungkook entered shortly after, a slight frown on his face as he grabbed a cup of coffee, his usual detached demeanor firmly in place. But as he took a seat, he couldn’t ignore the strange, lingering feeling that sat between you two. It wasn’t just rivalry anymore. It was... something else. Something unspoken.

He glanced at you briefly. “You did good,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you focused on your coffee, not daring to look at him directly. “You did too,” you replied, though it was more a formality than a compliment.

And yet, as you exchanged those words, both of you knew something had shifted. The rivalry hadn’t disappeared, but there was a quiet acknowledgment of each other’s strengths. A crack in the wall that had been between you for so long.

But neither of you was ready to confront it—not yet. Not while there was so much left to prove.

The conference room buzzed with quiet chatter as the trauma team assembled after the surgery. The air felt thick with unspoken words, the weight of the earlier tension hanging heavily over the room. Jungkook was already seated at the front, a posture that suggested his usual calm confidence, but even he couldn’t mask the storm that had been brewing throughout the surgery. His thoughts, his frustrations, still swirled around his mind like a whirlwind.

You walked in, the door clicking shut behind you, as you made your way to your seat. Conversations stilled, subtle glances exchanged across the room. They all knew. Knew about the video, about the controversy, about how you had barely made it into this hospital.

You could feel the weight of their curiosity, the silent judgment lingering in the air, as if waiting to see if you’d live up to your reputation—the surgeon with a sharp tongue and an even sharper fall from grace.

The rest of the team, quieter now, took their places, sensing the undercurrent of tension between you and Jungkook. Everyone had noticed the clashes earlier, but none of them dared to speak up. It wasn’t their place. Not now.

The meeting began. The attending physician, Ryuk Jinho, quickly moved through the cases, reviewing patient outcomes and discussing next steps. He started with a breakdown of the trauma cases from the past 24 hours, highlighting complications and successes.

“For the MVA patient from last night,” Jinho began, flipping through the reports, “the splenic rupture was managed well, though there was significant blood loss pre-op. Good call on prioritizing vascular control first.” His eyes skimmed the room before landing on you.

“But I’d like to discuss the choice of a non-operative approach for the hepatic injury. In cases like these, aggressive management can lead to better outcomes.”

“I don’t understand why you insisted on using pressors before the hemorrhage was under control,” Jungkook began, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. “It’s not an approach that works in trauma. You can’t stabilize someone with just medications when their vitals are crashing because of direct blood loss. You just don’t get it.”

You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes across the table. The weight of his words pressed on your chest, and though you’d spent years perfecting your ability to stay calm under pressure, something about his cold dismissal stung. He was so sure of himself. And the worst part was, he was doing this in front of everyone, as though it were a public spectacle, a way to undermine you.

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” you shot back, your voice firm, but just under the surface, there was the anger you’d been holding in. “I’m not the one who was about to clamp the artery without considering the bigger picture. You’ve been so wrapped up in your textbook approach that you didn’t even think about the patient’s whole condition. I don’t operate just on numbers and guidelines, Jungkook. I care about how they’re doing, not just what is happening.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, that look of cold detachment never leaving his face. He was used to people criticizing him. He had perfected the art of shrugging it off, of distancing himself from anything that wasn’t logical, wasn’t quantifiable.

“It’s easy to care about how when you don’t have to make the hard decisions,” he said dismissively, eyes narrowing. “You don’t even understand the weight of the responsibility. You think your feelings will save these patients, but it won’t. The reality is, if you don’t make decisions based on science, you won’t survive in trauma.”

The words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. For a moment, the room seemed to close in on you, the faces of your colleagues blurring as the anger flared within you. You weren’t just defending your methods anymore.

You were defending yourself.

“You don’t even know what it’s like to care,” you said, quieter now but laced with an emotion that surprised even you. “You hide behind your cold, sterile approach because it’s easier than facing the fact that these patients are people, not just cases to check off.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. The team—trauma surgeons like Dr. Min Jihoon, meticulous and composed; resident doctors like Seo Hana, always eager to prove herself; and interns who had barely gotten comfortable in the OR—froze in place, eyes darting between you and Jungkook. No one had ever spoken to him like that, not in this hospital.

Seo Hana shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze flickering to Dr. Min, who remained impassive but was clearly intrigued. One of the interns swallowed hard, while another subtly leaned forward, as if waiting to see how Jungkook would react. Even Ryuk Jinho, who had seen his fair share of heated exchanges, looked taken aback.

Jungkook’s lips tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he looked around the room as if challenging anyone to speak up or question him. His reputation as a skilled surgeon was unshakable, and he knew it. You, on the other hand, knew that no matter how good you were, your methods would never be enough in his eyes.

But there was more, wasn’t there? This wasn’t just a disagreement over how to treat a patient. This was deeper, rooted in something that had never been resolved. And just as you were about to respond, the attending physician called the meeting to a close.

Jinho raised a hand before the conversation escalated. “Both approaches have merit. In trauma surgery, decisions are made in seconds, and not every call is black and white. That said—” he looked between you and Jungkook, clearly aware of the tension crackling between you “—we need to focus on cohesive teamwork. Let’s move on.”

The three co-workers began to gather their things, heading out of the room, but you and Jungkook stayed behind, your hands gripping the edge of the table as you stared at the empty chairs in front of you.

You could feel Jungkook’s presence behind you, his posture still rigid, still exuding that coldness that had been a constant throughout your medical journey. And just as you felt like you couldn’t hold it in any longer, you turned to face him.

His expression remained unreadable, but you saw the hint of something in his eyes—a flicker of something that almost looked like regret, or maybe it was just frustration. Either way, you couldn’t hold back.

"I didn’t remember you were this cruel," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The weight of the statement hung heavily in the air between you, and you could see the immediate tension in his eyes as if the accusation had stung more than he cared to admit.

Jungkook’s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing at first, just standing there, like he was deciding how to respond. But you could see the walls he had built around himself, the ones he’d used to protect himself from feeling anything, crack ever so slightly.

“I’m not cruel,” he finally replied, his voice quieter now, but still firm. “I’m just... practical. It’s easier that way.”

You shook your head, trying to process everything in your head. “No, Jungkook. It’s easier to shut people out. Easier to treat everything like a puzzle, like you’re just solving a problem and not dealing with the consequences. That’s what makes you cold.”

He didn’t look at you, instead turning toward the door, but you caught the briefest flicker of something in his eyes. A crack in his armor. Something vulnerable, something you had never seen before.

“Maybe you’re right,” he muttered, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. “But I can’t afford to be anything else.”

You didn’t have a response. Not for that.

The door clicked shut behind you as you walked into the apartment, your mind still reeling from the tense encounter with Jungkook earlier that day. The sound of laughter and chatter from the living room broke through the cloud of frustration hanging over you.

"Doctor, you’re back!" Coco called out from the couch, her voice upbeat as she kicked her feet up on the coffee table. She was sprawled out with a book in one hand and a can of soda in the other.

“About time, girl,” Aerum added, sitting next to Coco, already holding a bottle of soju and a bowl of Kimbap on the table between them. “We were just about to start without you.”

You couldn’t help but let out a tired sigh as you dropped your bag by the door, your shoes clicking on the hardwood floor as you made your way over to them. "Long first day," you muttered, sinking into the chair next to Aerum.

Coco grinned, reading the mood perfectly. “Let me guess. The ever-so-charming Jeon Jungkook is as insufferable as always?”

You laughed bitterly, running a hand through your hair as you thought about the morning’s events. "Worse," you admitted, accepting a beer from Aerum and leaning back against the couch. “I didn’t remember him being that cruel.”

Aerum raised an eyebrow as she grabbed a piece of Kimbap. “What happened?”

You took a sip of your beer, trying to calm the rising frustration. “We had a patient today. Pretty critical trauma case. It was bad, but we both... we were both working on it, and he just—” You paused, trying to put the words together. “He criticized every single thing I did. Like, everything.”

“Classic Jungkook,” Coco said, clearly not surprised. “He always did that back in med school. The whole ‘I’m right, you’re wrong’ attitude.”

You remembered a particular group assignment where Coco mentioned her interest in dermatology. He had scoffed, eyes narrowing as he leaned back in his chair. “Dermatology?” he had said, the tone dripping with condescension.

“You really think you’re going to make a difference in skin? It’s like choosing the easy route when everyone else is dealing with real, life-and-death stuff. You’re wasting your potential.” The way he said it, like her choice was somehow lesser, made your skin burn with frustration.

Aerum nodded, adding, “I don’t get how someone can be so brilliant but so… detached, you know? He’s like a robot with a scalpel. No warmth at all.”

Jungkook and Aerum, now a gynaecologist, had clashed during a highly competitive clinical rotation in obstetrics and gynecology. The tension between them escalated when they were both selected to perform a delicate procedure—an emergency C-section—on the same day.

You shook your head. “It’s like he’s too focused on just fixing the body and not looking at the bigger picture. It’s frustrating. He always acts like he knows everything. But today—today, it was like he didn’t even see the patient as a person.”

Coco scoffed, leaning forward to grab another Kimbap roll. “So, the ‘ice prince’ is still stuck in his ways, huh? He used to be the same in school, always acting like he had all the answers. But I remember—he’d never admit when he was wrong.”

"Yeah," you said, letting out a deep breath. "But what really got to me today was the way he shut me down in front of the entire team. It was like he was trying to make me look bad in front of everyone. Like he couldn’t even see what I was doing for what it was."

Aerum exchanged a look with Coco before turning back to you. "Isn’t it kind of funny though? The way you two still go at it after all these years."

“Funny?” You raised an eyebrow, half-amused and half-exasperated. "It’s infuriating."

Coco laughed, but there was a knowing look in her eyes. "No, seriously. The amount of chemistry there was between you two was honestly… ridiculous."

You choked on your beer a little, shooting her a glare. “What? I don’t—I mean, it’s not like that.”

Aerum smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Oh, please. You two were always at each other’s throats in med school, but it was obvious. We all saw it. You just refused to admit it.”

“Admit what?” you asked, now feeling like you were under a spotlight. “There’s nothing between us.”

Coco rolled her eyes. “Right, sure. Whatever you say. But back then, it was like you both thrived off being at each other’s throats.”

You shook your head. "He’s impossible!"

Aerum snickered. "Sure, whatever. But if you’re going to be miserable around him, at least admit that there’s something there."

You threw your hands up in mock frustration. "Okay, fine! Maybe there’s some kind of… I don’t know… tension between us. But it’s not like I want anything from him. He’s just… he's so cold and detached. There’s no way I could—"

“Please,” Coco interrupted, giving you a knowing look. “It’s obvious to anyone who’s ever seen you two together. You hate him, but you also can’t stand being apart from him. The minute he starts being a jerk to you, you snap back. But the minute he does something… even slightly kind, like today, you get all flustered.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you stared into your beer bottle. "I’m not flustered."

Aerum leaned in closer, her tone playful yet serious. “Look, girl, we’ve known you for a long time. We’re not saying you like him—at least, not in the way you think. But it’s clear that you’ve got something with him. Whether it’s hate, chemistry, or whatever else—it’s there. Don’t pretend it’s not.”

You felt a mix of irritation and disbelief. "I don’t even know what you’re talking about. You’re just imagining things."

Coco smirked, reaching for her drink. “Tell me this then: when’s the last time you’ve ever been this mad at someone and still wanted to talk to them afterwards?”

You went quiet for a moment, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Sure,” Coco said with a raised eyebrow. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You groaned, dropping your head back against the couch. "I didn’t expect him to be like this. It’s been years, and I thought he’d changed. But now I feel like we’re back in med school again, and he’s still acting like the same insufferable guy he always was."

“Well,” Aerum said, her voice a bit more serious now, “he’s probably still carrying a lot of that same baggage. And honestly, I’m not sure it’s just a matter of work. The way he treats you—like you’re beneath him, or like he’s always trying to prove something—it’s so familiar.”

You felt a slight pang in your chest. "Maybe you're right. I just don’t know how to handle it anymore."

Coco nudged you gently. "You don’t have to handle anything. Just keep doing you—you’re brilliant. Don’t let him get inside your head."

Aerum grabbed another piece of Kimbap, her expression turning sly. “But if you ever decide to actually get close to him, just make sure to invite us to the wedding.”

Coco laughed, leaning over to grab her soju bottle. “Yeah, we want to be the first ones to know when it happens.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "You’re both ridiculous."

But despite the banter, you felt lighter. A bit of the weight that had settled on your shoulders after that surgery and the confrontation with Jungkook had lifted.

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