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almostwisegalaxy · 18 days ago

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On my knees In front of you standing for you

Yeon Sieun x Depressed fem!reader

in this story the reader is baku's sister

..................................................................................

The small restaurant, though modest, resonated with a familiar commotion that evening. Hu-min’s laughter, always too loud, drowned out the crackling radio playing an old Korean trot song. Gotak finished his bowl of ramyeon with fervor, and Jun-tae meticulously cut his kimchi, as if it were a surgical operation. Yeon Si-eun, for his part, kept his arms crossed, his eyes skimming the table, pretending to be interested in the texture of the wood.

He wasn't there for the meal. Not really. Since they had entered, he had sensed something—a weight, a draft, an extra heartbeat—something dissonant in that narrow space. He intermittently stared at the slightly torn curtain that led to the back of the restaurant, where Hu-min had disappeared shouting a “Be right back, gotta check something!” too exaggerated not to be a habit.

Then she had appeared.

Not in a beam of light, not with her hair floating in slow motion like in dramas. She was just there, suddenly, standing in the doorway, barefoot, arms hanging loosely. Her eyes were vacant. As if she saw no one, or perhaps everyone at once.

Y/N.

Yeon Si-eun didn't know why his stomach had turned. She wasn't doing anything. She was just there. He felt a cramp at the base of his neck, a strange tension he had only known once before, facing an unpredictable opponent. But there, it wasn't about strategy or threat. It was something else. A subtle panic. A curiosity with fangs.

She had approached her brother silently. Hu-min had turned around, surprised, then immediately smiling. A smile that, Si-eun now realized, was too rushed, too automatic. The kind of smile that says, "Don't fall apart in front of them."

"Aren't you sleeping?"

She shrugged almost imperceptibly. And in that simple gesture, Yeon Si-eun saw more than he had seen in some of his former enemies. A nameless weariness. A broken mechanism. Someone who wasn't made for words but had too much to say.

"I heard... you were laughing too loudly. I thought... you had fallen."

Her voice was cracked, like a silk thread stretched too tight. Hu-min caught her by the shoulder and massaged the back of her neck as one calms a wounded animal.

"I'm fine, Y/N. I'm just loud, you know that. Go back and rest, huh?"

She didn't answer. Her eyes slid across the room. They met Si-eun's.

It was only a second. But for him, it was enough.

There was nothing romantic about it. No projection, no idealization. Just a look, full of fatigue, shame, stifled anger. A frozen storm. And something, deep inside him, started to scream.

"Why her? Why now?"

He didn't know her story, but he knew that expression. He had seen it on the faces of some comrades before they disappeared. Before they left messages that no one really understood.

While Gotak wrestled with a sauce stain and Jun-tae tried to understand a math memo, Si-eun kept his eyes on her. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't doing anything to be noticed. And yet, every detail of her presence electrified him: the sleeves that were too long, the dark circles under her eyes that shouldn't exist at her age, the way she stood as if breathing was an act that required permission.

Hu-min had gently pushed her back towards the curtain.

"I'll join you in a bit. Promise."

She had turned her head. Another moment. Just long enough for Si-eun to feel his breath catch in his throat.

She wasn't pretty, in the classic sense. Not radiant, nor gentle. She looked absent. Like a photograph too many years old. But that absence, that was precisely what had captured him. That void that called out. That void that screamed.

Since that night, he hadn't been able to shake it off.

He didn't yet know if it was attraction, compassion, or an obsession born of his own loneliness. But Y/N now haunted his silences. His analyses crumbled as soon as he thought of her. He had surprised himself by returning to the restaurant two days later, alone. Pretending he had forgotten something. Then another time. And again.

But she didn't reappear.

He understood that she rarely went out. And only to follow her brother's voice, like a cracked compass.

This made her absence more present than any presence.

He began to observe Hu-min, to dissect the moments when his mask slipped, when his laughter was too high-pitched. He told himself that he had to know. That he saw her suffering. But that he couldn't do anything. Not alone.

It was then that Yeon Si-eun felt the first real shiver of fear in a long time.

Not for himself.

For her.

And something within him stretched, slowly, painfully, like a promise being born in the dark: he would see her again. He would understand her. He had no right to ignore her.

Not her.

---

That day, Y/N rose slowly, as if each movement was a struggle against gravity. The curtain of the small room where she and her brother usually slept was drawn, and light barely filtered through the holes. She knew it had been too long since she had felt Hu-min's presence. It was a sensation she couldn't ignore, a void that wouldn't disappear. Usually, he was there, with his loud laughter and his voice too loud to be ignored. But today, it was as if he had gone silent.

She got up, her legs trembling with the effort, her bare feet softly hitting the cold floor. Each step brought her closer to the door, but she felt as if her body was resisting this movement, as if it didn't want to let her cross that threshold. Yet, she went out. The house felt different when Hu-min wasn't there to fill the space with his noisy presence, his incessant attempts to make her smile.

When she arrived at the school, the boys were in a classroom at the end of the hallway. The place, like everything else, was steeped in a heavy, cold atmosphere. It was where they often gathered, together, away from prying eyes. When Y/N entered the room, she paused for a moment on the threshold, her eyes frantically searching for the three boys.

Jun-tae looked up and, before Si-eun and Gotak had even reacted, he noticed her, his face hardening for an instant. She wasn't supposed to be here. Not now. Not in this state.

"Hu-min…" Her voice, trembling, broke the heavy silence of the room. "Where is he?"

The boys exchanged a quick glance. Si-eun didn't need more to understand. He knew this question was coming. He also knew what it implied. He couldn't tell her the truth, at least not bluntly. Not yet.

"He… he went somewhere. But he'll be back soon." Si-eun's answer was measured, almost cold, as if it belonged to a different world than Y/N's. He didn't dare worry her too much, but he felt a heavy truth beneath his words. "Don't worry, he just has some things to take care of."

Y/N looked at him, deep confusion in her eyes. She frowned. Her lips tightened, an expression of vulnerability that didn't suit her. "He promised me we'd go to the aquarium... We were supposed to… he was supposed to come back." She lowered her head, then, suddenly, her gaze fell on Gotak, whose face was graver than ever, and who looked away.

"He'll be back, Y/N. Don't worry," Gotak repeated, trying to sound reassuring, but his tone betrayed a worry that even he couldn't hide.

Y/N didn't answer immediately. She stared at the floor, her mind lost in a thick, distant haze. She wasn't in this room. Her thoughts were elsewhere, further away, towards a place where promises were broken, and where Hu-min was no longer the person she had known.

Sadness, an unbearable weight, slowly seeped into her. She felt like a spectator of her own life. She could no longer connect with others, understand laughter, understand words. She only knew that, without Hu-min, this world became too vast and too cold for her.

Yeon Si-eun finally stood up, his gaze fixed on Y/N with an intensity he hadn't yet dared to show her. He had seen the hidden suffering behind her eyes. He had seen the way she fled from herself, the way she hid in silence, as if she were afraid of everything that was alive. But he couldn't leave her in this state.

"He'll be back," he repeated, but this time, it wasn't a promise, it was a statement. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but he knew it wouldn't be easy for any of them.

Y/N didn't answer. She turned slowly and, without a word, left the room. The sound of her footsteps faded in the hallway, taking with it some of the heavy air in the room.

The boys remained there, not knowing what to say. Jun-tae sighed deeply. Gotak clenched his fists on the table. Si-eun, for his part, found himself once again facing the reality of the situation. He knew Y/N wouldn't see it this way, but he now understood that everything was connected: Hu-min, his laughter, his secrets, and Y/N's invisible suffering. They were caught in a vortex far more complex than they could have imagined.

But for now, they only had one thing to do: protect this fragile balance, protect the facade they were maintaining. Because it was all going to collapse soon.

That night, Y/N went to bed early, as was her habit. Her body was heavy, almost numb. But before closing her eyes, she thought of a promise Hu-min had made her. A promise he hadn't been able to keep.

"I'll be back."

---

FLASHBACK – About ten years ago

Little Y/N was barely five years old at the time. Two big, curious eyes, round cheeks, and that clear laugh that sounded like a jingle bell shaken a little too fast. She was shy, yes—she hid behind her brother when strangers spoke to them—but around him, she transformed.

With Hu-min, she was a sunbeam.

"Oppaaaaaa! You're running too fast!" she cried one day, arms outstretched, struggling to keep up with the two boys who were dashing ahead.

"You're too slow, Y/N! You're a slug!" Na Baek-jin teased, laughing.

"Am not!" she retorted, puffing out her cheeks. "You're cheating because you have dinosaur legs!"

The three children burst into laughter, collapsing onto the park ground, out of breath. Hu-min had grabbed his little sister and spun her around in the air before setting her down, laughing.

"There's my super flying Y/N! Faster than a hungry pigeon!"

She started laughing so hard that she got the hiccups.

In those days, Y/N thought life was simple: running, laughing, teasing Baek-jin, building forts under the sheets, and eating candy stolen from the cupboard when their father hadn't come home yet.

But the house changed when the sun went down.

And especially, it changed when their father came home.

The sound of the key in the lock froze the air. Silence fell like a contained storm.

Y/N would freeze. Always. Like an animal that hears the predator approaching. Hu-min, on the other hand, would switch to autopilot. He would go get their father's slippers, discreetly remove any bottles from the table, grab Y/N's hand, and take her to their small room.

"Close the door, okay? Don't say a word. Even if you hear shouting."

She would nod, trembling. Her hands were icy.

And the shouting would begin.

Not howls of pain. Not blows. But words that sliced through the air like blades.

> "Two parasites. The girl sleeps all day. The boy plays the hero. You're ruining my life."

Y/N would cry silently. Her body curled up under her blanket. Hu-min would come join her, sliding next to her like an invisible barrier between her and the walls of the world.

And then he would start. The little theater.

He would begin to whisper in the dark.

"You know what I saw today? A magpie trying to steal a sandwich! I swear, it looked guilty. Like it was about to be arrested by the police!"

Y/N sniffled.

"Magpies... do they go to prison?"

"Unless they write a ten-line poem to apologize. But yours just said 'caw-caw,' so it was put in a cell with a pigeon with a bad reputation."

A small laugh escaped Y/N's throat. Weak, but sincere.

That was all he wanted. A spark. A tiny ray.

Sometimes, he would make faces in the dark. Other times, he would mime a fight between a sock dragon and a sock knight. He would invent absurd songs that rhymed "kimchi" with "spaghetti" and "rocket" with "holey socks."

He would have given anything for her to keep that laugh.

But every year, he saw her close in on herself a little more. Every insult, every silence that followed the outbursts, chipped away a little more at the light she carried.

And he, Hu-min, fought back. In his own way.

He became louder, more alive. He laughed loudly for two. He rolled his eyes at every criticism, pretending it didn't affect him. But inside, he was slowly collapsing.

Y/N, on the other hand, was fading away.

And he clung to her as to a silent promise. That he would get her out of there. That he would always be there.

Because she was more than just a little sister.

She was the only person who had ever looked at him like a hero.

And he had no right to disappoint her.

Even if she no longer laughed.

Even if she was slowly fading before his eyes.

He would continue.

Until the end.

---

The Next Day

Yeon Si-eun hadn’t slept a wink all night.

He had replayed the scene over and over—Y/N’s figure, frail, worried, standing in the middle of the empty classroom, her voice cracking with fear as she asked, "Where's my brother?"

She had only stayed for a few minutes. But since then, she hadn't left his mind.

He hated himself for it.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to him. He had built walls, erected defense strategies more complex than those of any opponent. He had always kept his distance. Observer. Neutral. Cold, some said. Prudent, he corrected.

But with her, there had been a hole in the armor. And through that hole, she had slipped. Not with words or smiles. But with her silence. With that pain suspended in the void of her eyes.

That morning, he had waited for the exact time he knew she would be alone. He had unconsciously memorized Y/N’s schedule. He knew she didn't eat in the morning. That she slept most of the time. But today, he was going to knock on her door.

Not out of altruism.

Not out of kindness.

But because he couldn't bear not seeing her anymore.

Hu-min had absentmindedly given him the address of the small apartment above the restaurant. Si-eun went there with a precise, almost military step. His hands were in his pockets, his thoughts hazy, but his heart beating fast. Much too fast. He hated this loss of control.

He knocked twice.

No answer.

He was about to leave, but the door finally opened. Slowly. As if it weighed a ton.

And Y/N was there. Her hair disheveled. Her face still blurred with sleep. She was wearing an oversized sweater, its sleeves falling over her hands. He read in her gaze the effort each step towards that door had cost her.

"Si-eun…?"

She seemed surprised. Almost wary.

He could have said he was passing "by chance." He could have made up an excuse.

But that wasn't his style.

"I wanted to see if you were okay."

She didn't answer. She blinked. Once. Twice.

And then, she stepped aside without a word.

He entered.

Silence settled in immediately. Si-eun didn't break it. He observed. The apartment was cramped, almost bare. Two mugs on the table, curtains permanently drawn, a mattress in a corner. And that smell of stale tea, of stagnant sleep.

She sat back down on the bed without looking at him. He remained standing at first. Then sat down on the floor, facing her, at a good distance.

Not a word.

And in that silence… something was born.

It wasn't a game of glances, nor an exchange of confidences. It was something else. A contained tension. A raw intimacy, without justification. A strange calm. He didn't need to understand her, nor to find the right words to soothe her.

She wasn't crying. She wasn't talking.

She was simply there.

And he was there too.

Then, slowly, her shoulders slumped. She rested her head against the wall, her eyelids half-closed. Si-eun didn't move. He watched her for a long time, until he felt her breathing regulate. And suddenly, he understood: she was asleep.

She had fallen asleep.

In his presence.

And it was an insane victory.

A shiver ran through him. Something feverish. Unhealthy perhaps, but irrepressible. She had granted him a trust that no one else had. She had let her guard down. He had become a fixed point in her blurry world.

And in his, she had become an obsession.

Since that day, he returned. Every day. At the same time.

He never warned her. But she always opened the door a little before. Sometimes barely conscious, other times already sitting, her eyes vacant. As if her body had sensed him. As if a part of her wanted to see him.

He always brought something. Jasmine tea. Pieces of sweet bread. A novel. A potted plant. Discreet, almost ridiculous things. And yet, every detail had been weighed, considered, chosen for her.

But it wasn't the objects that mattered. It was his presence. Constant.

He didn't ask questions. Didn't force anything.

Sometimes they talked.

About trivialities. The weather. A memory. A dream.

And sometimes not at all.

But he felt that something was changing. Slowly. A crack in the marble.

She was beginning to wait for him.

And he… he no longer thought of anything else.

The outside world had faded. Even his strategies, his fights, his calculations were erased. He no longer recognized himself. He would catch himself looking at his phone, listening to the slightest sound, hoping it was her. He observed the smallest details: the way she pushed up her sleeves, how her fingers absentmindedly twisted a strand of hair, how she stared at the ceiling when she thought he wasn't looking.

He didn't just want her close. He wanted to be everything to her.

Her thought. Her refuge. Her center.

And that thought, although he kept it silent, consumed him.

But Y/N was getting increasingly worse.

Some days, she didn't even get up. She would lie there, turned towards the wall, her eyes open without really seeing. Other times, she would talk about herself—rarely, but with a sharp lucidity.

"It's weird," she said one evening, her eyes vacant. "I feel everything. And nothing. As if I'm transparent… and heavy at the same time."

Si-eun didn't answer. He was too afraid that the slightest word would break this moment.

She continued:

"Sometimes, I just want to sleep… for a long time. And for everyone to forget I exist."

His own heart clenched. A dull ache. An icy fear.

And anger. A furious anger at this world that had broken her. At that father, at that indifference, at the weight she carried alone.

He wanted to scream for her. Fight for her. Pull her out of this abyss with the strength of his arms.

But he only did one thing: he placed his hand against hers. And this time, she didn't pull it away.

Since then, he woke up every morning with only one thought: to see her again.

He lived for that suspended moment between them, in that narrow room, where nothing hurt anymore. He didn't say it, but he knew: he was falling. And it wasn't pure love. It was deeper. More twisted.

He wanted her to see him.

To need him.

For him to be the only thing standing in her collapsing world.

And without realizing it, Y/N was letting him in a little more each day.

She didn't smile. But she listened to him.

She didn't always speak. But she stayed.

And for Si-eun, that was all it took.

He had promised himself, in silence: he would never leave her alone again.

Even if she didn't love him.

Even if she didn't look at him.

He would stay.

Until she no longer needed anyone but him.

---

POV Hu-min

That night, the air reeked of grease, stale tobacco, and lies.

Hu-min, now called "Baku" in certain circles he should never have approached, watched the purple neon lights of the bowling alley flicker like a warning. Each flash seemed to tell him: "You're no longer who you pretend to be." But he went in anyway. Because he had no choice.

Na Baek-jin was there, of course. Sitting on the worn leatherette bench, surrounded by two guys older than him. One was cleaning a baseball bat with a dirty rag. The other was finishing a bowl of tteokbokki with lazy gestures.

"You're on time. That's new, Baku," Baek-jin said without looking up.

Hu-min didn't answer. He had learned not to.

The game had changed a long time ago. Baek-jin was no longer the kid who ran around the park with him and Y/N. He had become the kind of guy who spoke softly but whose silences killed more than words. Hu-min knew what was hidden behind that calm. Anger. Resentment. A will to dominate that was no longer childish.

And he also knew one thing: Baek-jin was using him. But he also had everything he needed to destroy him.

"We spotted a guy delivering for a rival gang. He goes through the river road around 11 PM. You stop him. You get the bag. And if he resists, you shut him up."

Hu-min clenched his fists. "You mean I have to beat him up."

"You've always been quick to understand. That's what I like about you."

A sneer split Baek-jin's face. He loved this power. This control. And Hu-min felt every fiber of his being scream in despair. He wasn't that kind of guy. He had never been that kind of guy.

But he did it anyway.

Because one day, Baek-jin had come knocking on his door, a smile plastered on his face:

> "Your old man owed money. A lot. Now you pay. With your time, your body, your loyalty. And if you try to run... I know guys who know how to make silent girls talk."

He hadn't needed to say her name. Y/N was the ultimate leverage.

Since then, Hu-min had taken it all. The blows, the orders, the shame. He smiled like an idiot at the restaurant. He cracked jokes with his friends. But he lost pieces of himself with every night spent with these guys.

And he had believed that as long as Y/N stayed out of all this, he could keep going. Until he found a way out.

But he hadn't expected her to look for him.

Bowling Alley, a few days later

Y/N had had to gather all the energy she had left to go out. A rare thing. But her brother's absence was a dull ache that grew with each passing hour. He hadn't come home for two days. He wasn't answering. He hadn't left any messages.

Something was wrong.

So she had gotten up. She had put on an oversized sweatshirt, her worn sneakers, and gone to where her friends said he sometimes hung out: an old bowling alley near the canal. A den of delinquents. She knew what people whispered. But she didn't care.

She walked through the door into a din of cheesy music and crashing pins. The smell assaulted her immediately, but she held her ground. She scanned the room, her throat tight.

And then she saw him.

Baek-jin.

He hadn't changed. Well, physically maybe. He had grown taller, broader, but his eyes… they were the same. Cold, calculating. And she immediately felt a mixture of annoyance, pain, and memories she wished she could erase.

She walked forward, straight, awkward, but determined. "Where's my brother?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, but firm.

Baek-jin stared at her slowly. He tilted his head. "Y/N? Is that you? I almost didn't recognize you."

He smiled, but there was nothing kind in that smile. "Your brother is busy. He's doing what he needs to do to protect you, you should be grateful to him."

"Stop your bullshit," she murmured, her eyes shining. "You have no idea what he's sacrificing for you."

And that's when he arrived. Hu-min. Out of breath. Dirty. His jaw clenched.

"Y/N… what the hell are you doing here?!"

She turned to him. Her eyes pleaded. "I'm looking for you. You disappear. You don't come home. You haven't eaten. You don't look at me anymore. What are you doing, Baku? Huh? What are you doing?!"

Y/N only saw her brother. And what she read in his eyes wasn't anger. It was shame.

And that's what broke her.

"Why are you doing this, Hu-min? Why are you doing this for him?"

"Because I don't have a choice!" he blurted out. "Because if I don't, he'll destroy you. He's pushing our shitty father to the edge. He's offing the guys I care about."

His voice trembled. "So I get dirty. Instead of you. For you. So you can just… sleep. Breathe. Without him taking away what little you have left."

She looked at him for a long time. And it wasn't anger he saw on her face. It was pain.

Naked pain. Raw. Immense.

"But you're destroying yourself," she whispered. "And I can't… I can't lose you too."

He wanted to tell her it was nothing. That he would handle it. But his words died in his throat. He couldn't lie to those eyes. Not to her.

He stepped closer, grabbed her shoulders. "You have to get out of here. Now."

"You think I sleep to forget? I sleep because I already feel dead. But you're not helping me come back. You're leaving."

The silence that followed was heavier than the shouts.

And Baek-jin, behind them, was amused. "Your sister's brave. I like her. She's grown up."

"Shut up," Hu-min growled without turning around.

He turned towards the exit. Spotted a familiar figure. Si-eun.

He waved him over. "Take her home. She shouldn't be here. She's not made for this."

Si-eun hesitated. Y/N struggled a little, her eyes wet, her body tense. But when she met Si-eun's serious gaze, she understood. He wouldn't force her. But he would protect her.

She nodded. Just a small nod. A silent pact.

And she went out.

But as she crossed the threshold, she swore one thing: She would find out everything. She would no longer let her brother sink into the darkness alone.

---

Outside, the air was glacial. A cutting wind. A fierce silence.

Y/N walked ahead, arms crossed, face closed off. Si-eun followed her without a word. He always kept that distance of a step or two, never too close, never too far—as if he were walking a fragile ridge between modesty and instinct.

But tonight, something was different.

Y/N hadn't uttered a word since they left the bowling alley. Her back was stiff, her fists clenched, and her figure seemed to float, as if she were walking without really touching the ground.

Si-eun felt it. A tension too strong. An invisible weight bending her over. And that, he couldn't ignore.

"Do you want to sit down for a moment?" he finally asked, his voice softer than usual.

She didn't answer. But she stopped.

They were in a quiet alley, a little off the road. A wooden bench, under a pale streetlamp, creaked in the wind. She sat down without a word, and he did the same beside her.

Silence settled in again. But this time, it wasn't a comfortable silence. It was a threatening void, filled with echoes.

Y/N hugged her knees to her chest. Her face turned towards the ground. And then:

"I don't recognize him anymore."

Si-eun didn't answer.

She continued, more softly:

"Hu-min. He smiles like everything's fine. But it's not true. I saw him tonight. He's not my brother anymore. He's a ghost. And I didn't see it coming."

She bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. Her voice trembled:

"He protected me, Si-eun. I didn't know. I slept while he got dirty to keep me away. I should have fought for him."

He looked at her, his heart aching. His throat tightened. He hated seeing her like this.

"You don't sleep to escape," he said gently. "You sleep to survive."

She turned her eyes to him, surprised.

"You do what you can. Like him. You're the same."

She looked down again. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I hate myself for it."

Si-eun inhaled slowly. His body tense, but his voice calm:

"Then I'm going to tell you something you often forget. It's not your fault."

Y/N closed her eyes.

"Yes, it is."

"No, Y/N. It's not your fault your father was violent. It's not your fault your brother sacrificed himself. And it's not your fault you care about them so much it hurts."

He turned slightly towards her. She didn't dare move.

"You think you're weak. That you're a burden. But you're still here. You've survived things that would have destroyed other people."

She hugged her arms to herself, and her voice broke:

"And you, aren't you afraid of me? Of what I am?"

He barely shrugged.

"I'm afraid you'll disappear."

That sentence did something to her. She finally turned her head towards him. And what she saw in his eyes wasn't pity. It was deeper. Sharper. A mixture of contained obsession and wild tenderness. Something that said I'm here. And I won't leave.

They stayed like that, looking at each other for a long time. As if the world around them was fading away.

Then Y/N spoke, almost in a whisper:

"When I'm with you… I don't need to pretend. No need to talk. And yet… I feel less alone."

Si-eun lowered his eyes. A part of him wanted to take her in his arms. To hold her so tight she couldn't escape. But he held back. Instead, he murmured:

"It's the same for me."

The cold deepened. So they started walking again.

They walked side by side, in silence, their shoulders sometimes brushing against each other. Y/N seemed a little more present. More grounded. But a new fatigue weighed on her. An emotional fatigue, deeper than sleepless nights.

They crossed a small metal bridge, their steps echoing on the rusty plates. The street wasn't very well lit. A pale light filtered through the bare branches.

And then, everything changed.

A dull, brutal roar. An engine rumble that tore through the silence. A sound too fast. Too close.

Si-eun's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out mechanically, just a glance… and that's when he saw it.

A truck.

A heavy truck, speeding, without headlights, without brakes. Heading straight for Y/N.

His heart exploded in a flash of panic. He yelled:

"Y/N!"

She didn't have time to react.

He lunged. Pure instinct. He threw his phone to the ground. His arm shot out, grabbed Y/N by the waist.

And he pushed her.

But not far enough.

The truck hit them.

A dull thud. A metallic crash. Then silence.

They flew. The world spun, turned upside down, blurred.

And everything stopped.

Y/N's body rolled onto the asphalt, inert. Si-eun's, further away, lay at an odd angle, his arm bleeding, his head against a post.

The wind whistled softly.

The neon signs in the distance still flickered, indifferent.

And everything sank into darkness.

---

Seoul University Hospital — Intensive Care Unit

The white ceiling pulsed gently beneath the neon lights, like a heart hesitating between beating and stopping. The sharp smell of antiseptic floated, mixed with the more subtle scent of dried blood, plastic, and anguish.

In room 407, two beds side by side. Two still bodies. Connected to machines that made the muffled sound of survivors being held back.

Y/N.

Si-eun.

Hu-min’s hands had been covered in blood when they found them.

He still remembered it. He was running, his feet slipping on the wet asphalt, his breath catching in his throat. Gotak was shouting behind him, but he wasn’t listening. He had just seen Y/N’s figure, lying in the pale light of a streetlamp. And next to her, a body. Stiff. Blood.

He had screamed.

He hadn’t remembered screaming so loudly since the last time their father had thrown a plate against the wall.

Juntae had called the ambulance. Gotak had crouched down beside Si-eun. But Hu-min hadn’t moved. He was looking at Y/N’s face. His little sister. Silent. Broken.

As if death had finally managed to catch up with her.

And he hadn’t been able to do anything.

Again.

He had been at the hospital for two days. He slept little. Barely ate. He spent long hours simply staring at the heart monitors, watching for the slightest sign. He spoke to no one. Even the doctors no longer dared to ask him questions.

He had sat down between the two beds. A metal chair. A wall behind him. His eyes fixed on the ceiling.

When Si-eun opened his eyes, it was first a flutter of eyelids, then a painful grimace on his face.

He moved. Slowly. Like someone returning from a long journey deep within themselves.

"Y/N…?"

His voice was hoarse. Crushed. He tried to sit up, but a groan escaped him.

Hu-min stood up abruptly, his heart pounding.

"Si-eun? You're awake? Damn… you're awake."

But the other barely looked at him. His eyes went from one wall to the other, then settled on the figure in the next bed.

"She… she is…?"

"Still in a coma," Hu-min replied in a grave voice.

Silence fell like a leaden blanket. Si-eun stared at Y/N without blinking. Her face didn't move, but her hands were trembling.

"I tried to push her."

"I know."

"I didn't make it."

"I know."

A breath. Hesitant.

"I should have… been faster."

Hu-min approached. He placed a hand on Si-eun’s shoulder, without saying a word. A simple gesture. But heavy. Full of unspoken gratitude.

Si-eun looked away. His teeth clenched.

"Why was she in the street that night? Why is she like this? Why does she… let herself drift as if she wants to disappear?"

He broke off. He couldn't speak anymore.

And Hu-min understood that this moment was coming. That he could no longer put off the truth.

So he sat down. Slowly. And spoke.

"She met a guy a year ago. Someone older. A literature student, I think. He had that charm… you know, the kind who speaks softly, recites poems, makes her feel seen."

"And then?"

"Then he started locking her in her own guilt."

Hu-min closed his eyes. The pain rose, thick, suffocating.

"He would self-harm. He told her it was because of her. That if he wasn't okay, it was because she didn't love him enough. That his suffering was proof of his love. And that if she left him, it would mean she was cruel. A bad person."

Si-eun froze.

"He made her feel guilty… for his own wounds?"

"Yes."

A long silence. The kind of silence that hurts.

"He broke her," Hu-min finally said. "Not with blows. But with words. He turned her insecurities against her. He dug into her weaknesses, gently, until she collapsed."

He inhaled. His fists clenched.

"And I didn't see it coming. I thought she was getting better. She was making an effort. She even smiled. But it was fake. She carried all that inside her… alone. Because she didn't want to worry me."

Si-eun looked at him, his eyes shining. He understood too well what that meant.

"She believed she had to earn love," he said slowly. "That she had to sacrifice herself to be accepted. That she had to fix broken people, even if it destroyed her."

"Yes."

The two young men looked at each other.

Si-eun looked away first. He wanted to scream, to hit something. But all he could do was grip the sheets until his knuckles turned white.

"I love her," he said in a calm, almost strange tone.

Hu-min stared at him.

"I know."

"But it's not a sweet, pretty little thing. It's not a simple love. It's a need. It's… visceral. As if I grew up to find her. As if everything in me had waited for her. Her sadness. Her silences. The way she speaks as if she doesn't want to disturb the air around her."

He began to tremble slightly.

"And it drives me crazy, because I want to save her. But I know I can't do it alone. And I don't want to become like the other one, the one who hurt her. I don't want her to think she owes me anything."

His voice broke.

"I just… want her to live."

Hu-min stood up slowly. He looked at Y/N. She didn't move. But her chest rose. Slowly. Weakly.

"Then you've already done more than most," he murmured. "You protected her without demanding anything. You put your body in the way of hers. And she'll remember that. When she comes back, she'll know. That you were there."

Si-eun closed his eyes. A tear rolled down his temple.

"She's going to come back, right?"

Hu-min didn't answer immediately.

Then:

"She's strong. Stronger than me. She holds on. Even in the dark. She'll find her way."

And in the blue light of the hospital room, two hearts beat slowly. A brother and a lover, sitting at the bedside of a girl who couldn't hear them.

But who, somewhere, far away in the darkness of her own coma, felt their presence.

And that, perhaps, was already a beginning.

---

Three weeks later

The days had blurred together. A bottomless hourglass, where the light only served to remind of the absence. Y/N had not woken up. But Si-eun had not left her bedside.

Every morning, he arrived with books. Crime novels, poetry collections, manhwas folded in half. He read aloud, even when he was sure she couldn’t hear him. He gently placed his hand on hers, as if trying to transmit a bit of human warmth.

He also talked to her. Not too loudly, just enough for her to know he was there. That she wasn’t alone. He told her about the taste of cold coffee in the cafeteria, Juntae’s nonsense, Gotak’s nervous silences, Hu-min’s dark circles. And sometimes, he shared his own thoughts, unfiltered. The regrets. The memories. The silly dreams. As if he were confiding in her his personal diary.

And even though she didn’t move, even though she didn’t speak, he felt that something was happening. A link. Silent, but real.

Hu-min also visited. Less often, lately. He had said he had "things to take care of." But in his eyes, there was something more. A fire. A decision.

And this morning, it was finally over.

It was a pale hour, almost silent. The sun was barely rising over the concrete rooftops. In an abandoned warehouse, somewhere near the port, four of them dragged themselves against the walls. Four bloodied silhouettes, clothes in tatters, muscles burnt out.

Baku.

Si-eun.

Gotak.

Juntae.

They didn’t need to speak. They had held on. They had won. Baek-jin was nothing more than a name to erase, a specter that would no longer have control over them.

Hu-min collapsed against a metal barrier, gasping for breath, his hands covered in blood, his eyes red. He felt as though the world had stopped. That there was nothing left to prove, nothing left to hide.

Then his phone vibrated.

An unknown number. The hospital.

He answered without thinking.

— Hello?

A soft, calm voice.

— Mr. Park Hu-min?

— Yes.

— I’m calling from the University Hospital. Your sister… she woke up.

The world stopped for a moment.

He didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t.

His heart was pounding like an alarm.

— What…?

— She’s still weak. But she woke up. She opened her eyes. She asked… "Is my brother here?"

He let out a laugh. Choked. Halfway between a sob and a sigh of relief.

— Thank you. Thank you. Thank you...

Gotak and Juntae froze. Si-eun straightened up, his face tense.

— What? What happened?

Hu-min lifted his eyes to them. And despite the blood on his face, the bruises, the crushing fatigue, he smiled.

A true smile. Rare.

— She’s awake.

No one spoke.

Then Si-eun sprang to his feet, unsteady. He barely managed to grab the edge of the wall to avoid falling again.

— Y/N?!

Hu-min nodded. His eyes shining.

— She opened her eyes. She’s waiting for us.

Without another word, they all set off.

Broken. Trembling.

But standing.

And alive.

Heading toward her.

---

The soft afternoon light barely pierced through the drawn curtains. The distant hum of machines, almost imperceptible, filled the room. The hospital, like a quiet prison, hung suspended between life and suffering.

Si-eun waited, silent. He had settled in a corner, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on Y/N’s frail figure, lying on her bed, a blanket draped over her legs. Her features had changed, as if everything about her breathed the fragility and gentleness of a return to life. She seemed lighter, closer to the stars, as if the depression that had gnawed at her for so long was, at least momentarily, behind her.

The others, Gotak, Juntae, and even Hu-min, were not far away. But no one wanted to be the first to cross that boundary. The crucial moment, the one where you know you must leave space, breathe, take your time. It was a miracle. But also a moment of absolute fragility.

And then, in an almost imperceptible breath, Y/N’s eyes opened.

She didn't remember the pain. She only remembered the void. Days, weeks where reality was nothing more than a blurry place. But there, suddenly, she could feel the light of the world penetrate her soul.

She blinked, disoriented. Then, she turned her head. She knew. She felt the familiar presence. She felt it before she heard it.

Hu-min.

He hadn't changed. He was still the same, the brother she had always loved. The man who, even in his darkest moments, had stayed there, by her side. And despite the pain that could still be read in his eyes, despite the scars that marked his soul, he was there. He was there for her.

"Y/N!" he cried, with such force that he could have knocked down the walls. A cry of relief, of pure joy. He threw himself on her, without thinking, taking her in his arms.

She smiled, weakly at first. Then a burst of laughter escaped her lips. A sincere laugh. A child's laugh. The one that used to fill their house with happiness. That laugh she had forgotten, but found again like a buried treasure.

"I… I'm here, Y/N. I'm here, don't worry," he murmured, his eyes shining with tears. He caressed her hair, as he had done when she was little. An infinite tenderness, a raw, sincere, almost selfish love. Because he never wanted to lose her again.

The others were there too. Gotak and Juntae had stepped back, observing the scene with respect and a touch of awkwardness. Si-eun, for his part, couldn't even breathe anymore. His heart was beating faster. Too fast. Emotions overwhelmed him. He had seen Y/N suffer, get lost. He had seen her dark, broken, and there, before him, she was alive again.

She was there. She was breathing. She was smiling.

For him, for Hu-min, for everything he had always wanted. And yet, this scene, more than anything, gave birth in him to a sweet and fierce rage. A rage to want to protect her, to want to be the one who could save her from everything. He wanted to be the man by her side, the man she could lean on, the man who could make her smile forever.

He approached them, despite his pain. He stopped just behind Hu-min, and in an almost timid voice, he said:

"She… is she okay?"

He couldn't look at Y/N. He couldn't. He felt that if his eyes met hers, he wouldn't be able to contain everything he felt. But Hu-min then turned to him, as if inviting him into their bubble. He knew that, in a way, Si-eun was part of their family. He had understood that after everything that had happened. It was the first time he had seen him so vulnerable. Because Si-eun, all that calm, that inner strength he exuded, looked, at that moment, like a lost man. Like a man who had lost himself in a sea of feelings he no longer knew how to control.

"Yes, she's okay," Hu-min replied, with a smile that wasn't quite happy, but was that of a man finding peace again.

Y/N turned her eyes to Si-eun, almost instinctively. She stared at him for a long time. As if she sensed that depth in him, a form of pain he hid, but which she perceived perfectly.

Si-eun, slowly, moved to the bed, and leaned slightly, placing a trembling hand on the edge of the mattress.

She looked at him with an uncertain air, wondering what had driven him to stay. Why him? Why was he there?

Si-eun didn't have the courage to speak. He shook his head, a little lost, but her gaze made all the difference. He wanted to say something. To break the silence. But he couldn't. He didn't have the words.

So, in a surge of uncontrollable emotion, he leaned down slightly and placed a kiss on her forehead. A light kiss, almost like a caress, a kiss that carried all the warmth of his heart. That kiss was a promise. A silent promise. He would be there. No matter the cost.

She closed her eyes under his kiss. And, for a fraction of a second, she felt safe. She felt that presence, that warmth… He didn't need to speak. It was enough for him to be there.

But everything wasn't that simple.

Later, after the others had left the room to rest and tend to their wounds, Si-eun stayed. He was there, silent. He couldn't leave. He couldn't leave her.

He got up and went to the shelf. His eyes fell on an old photo of Y/N. She was a child, with round cheeks and a radiant smile. He had never seen such a sincere smile. A smile that wasn't tarnished by pain. A smile that still resembled her, despite the time.

"Was that you?" Si-eun asked, his voice soft.

Y/N joined him gently, her gaze locked on Si-eun's. She nodded.

"Yes, that was me. Before… before all this. Before I forgot everything."

He turned to her, touched. This photo represented the young girl he had always seen in his dreams, the person he had always wanted to protect. His heart ached.

"You still look a little like her," he said, his voice full of tenderness.

For the first time, Y/N felt her heart warm. It was the first time someone had spoken of her like that. Not as a victim. Not as someone broken. But as a person. A real person.

She looked at him, a slight smile on her lips.

"It's the first time anyone's spoken to me like that."

Si-eun approached, his eyes shining with emotion. He leaned down gently and caressed her face, his fingertips brushing the scratch that marked her cheek. He was hurting, but he didn't want to show it.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, her gaze worried.

He laughed softly, but his smile couldn't hide the pain in his eyes.

"Yes, it's nothing. But you… are you okay?"

She placed her hand on his face, feeling the warmth of his skin. It was her, this time, who wanted to take care of him. She gently took a small bandage and placed it on his bruised face. It was a simple gesture, but it had something significant about it. She was healing him, for the first time.

Their eyes met. Then, all of a sudden, he couldn't hold back anymore. He leaned down and, in a gesture filled with passion and affection, placed a kiss on her lips. That kiss… it was more than a declaration of love. It was the fulfillment of a dream he had kept within him for weeks. A tender kiss, almost desperate, but filled with promises.

Y/N closed her eyes under that kiss, and her heart began to beat faster. A shiver ran through her body. She felt, for the first time in a long time, a warmth, an inner peace. Something that made her feel whole, even if everything was still blurry around her.

They barely moved apart, their foreheads touching, their breaths mingling.

"I'll always be here," Si-eun whispered, his voice broken with emotion.

And she, without hesitation, placed her hand over his heart.

"Me too."

And for the first time in so long, she felt at home.

Because yes. Between the scars, there is love.

..................................................................................

569 notes · View notes

jungkoode · 23 days ago

Text

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 21

˗ˏˋ birthday shots ˎˊ˗

"Jungkook’s friends, Jungkook’s birthday party… It’s all honestly not what you expected. But then again, Jungkook keeps twisting your expectations of him, once and once again."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8,4k

content: jungkook having friends, feeling out of place, pretty girls, judgemental people, tae/hobi/jk protecting the peace, shared secrets, nicknames gaining an intimate layer, stubbornness with spicy food, drinking, doing shots and jungkook being both attentive and protective.

✧ author's note ✧

Aaaand we’re finally here. The party. The build-up. The chaos potential. The birthday. After 20 chapters of yearning, character dissection, awkward eye contact, and conversations that say everything and nothing at the same time… we are officially entering the next arc: actual real-world social interaction. Which, if you’ve been paying attention, is every character’s personal hell. Including mine.

First of all—yes, this is Jungkook’s party chapter. Yes, it’s a pivotal one. Yes, I was pacing around my flat in a hoodie muttering “okay but what would he wear” like a deranged method actor trying to get into character. And yes, there are about 15 new people here. But please don’t panic. You don’t need to memorize them all. This isn’t a fantasy war council. You’re not about to be quizzed on the name of Jungkook’s friend’s cousin’s dog. They’re not here to steal the plot—they’re here to color it.

Jungkook’s different social groups, clashing and blending like some unhinged Venn diagram of his life. They each say something about him and the many versions of himself he keeps—because, as always, this isn’t about the party. It’s about him and her, and us, and the very inconvenient reality of human attachment.

Now. Tessa (and yes, Toasty, when you read this… the name comes 100% from you hahaha).

Yup. That girl from the library. She’s here. She’s breathing. She’s talking. And she’s not a villain.

I know, I know, fanfiction is riddled with the evil-rival-love-interest trope. The girl who eyes you up and down with thinly veiled contempt. The passive aggressive bitch who “just happens” to sit on his lap or call him baby in front of you. The girl whose entire personality is “threat to the main couple.” And listen—I could never.

Tessa isn’t like that. Because most people aren’t like that. Attraction doesn’t automatically equal competition, and not every woman who talks to a man you like is an enemy. That’s such a tired, flat, boring cliche. I’m not writing this story to project misogynistic tropes onto women so we can feel smug about someone else being “the wrong one.” I don’t want you to root against her. I don’t want you to root against anyone, really. Maybe Mia, but that’s what she’s for. She’s your pressure valve. You need someone to hate. That’s what makes the rest bearable.

Tessa’s presence is not a betrayal. It’s just reality. Jungkook is allowed to be liked. He’s allowed to explore. And so is Nix. She’s not some pushover sainted martyr of “true love.” She’s a girl. She’s confused. She’s a little guarded. She’s still trying to understand herself.

There’s no jealousy because there is no claim. There’s no relationship, no commitment, no confessions, no secret “we’re basically already in love” subtext. There’s just this slow, painful, glacial slide into a kind of closeness that might one day become something else—but hasn’t. Not even close. This chapter is about a possible beginning of something resembling tentative friendship. We are barely out of enemies-to-mildly-tolerating-each-other zone. We are in the “do I text you or is that weird” era.

Don’t rush it. Don’t expect it. That’s not the story I’m telling.

Nix being unbothered isn’t character growth. It’s just honesty. It’s consistency. I’ve spent 20 chapters building a girl who’s emotionally guarded, private, and painfully aware of the dynamics she allows herself to engage in. She’s not “cool with it” to be cool—she’s just not invested like that yet. And that matters. We’re not jumping stages for drama. We’re walking, slowly, through the psychology of two people who don’t even know what they want. Let them be confused. Let them be messy. Let them take their time.

I’m writing slow burn with psychological realism at its core, and that means actions have context. If you came here expecting love confessions and possessive meltdowns and “he’s mine stay away” drama… wrong story, babes. I want you uncomfortable. I want you squinting at every interaction wondering if it means something. I want you to question how affection develops, really. Slowly. Subtly. Almost invisibly, until it’s all you can think about.

The story isn’t about dramatic betrayals or Big Plot Twists. It’s about tension. About two people orbiting each other in their own broken, stumbling ways. It’s about glances that last too long and words that don’t come out right and the way your heart knows something long before your brain does. It’s about patterns, and Jungkook’s are catching up to him.

You don’t need to like everyone. But you should understand them. And that’s what I’m asking of you here. Because these characters aren’t plot devices—they’re real to me. They’re studies. They’re messy. And god, I love them for it.

So yeah. Welcome to the party. The masks are on, the music’s loud, and no one knows how to behave when they’re being watched. Especially him.

Enjoy. Suffer. Stare at the page like you’re decoding a sacred text. That’s the vibe.

And as always…

You’re here to suffer. I’m here to deliver.

You’re welcome.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

You never realized a person could contain so many versions of themselves until you saw Jungkook surrounded by his friends.

"SURPRISE!"

The word explodes through the small ramen shop, followed by cheers and laughter as Jungkook freezes beside you.

His fingers quickly pocket his phone, eyes widening with a genuine shock that transforms his entire face.

Gone is the perpetually amused, slightly condescending roommate you've come to know. In his place stands someone younger, almost innocent—lips parting in stunned delight, eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's fucking weird is what it is.

"Holy shit," he breathes, a laugh bursting from him as Taehyung launches himself across the restaurant, wrapping Jungkook in a hug that nearly knocks him over. "What the fuck?"

Hobi follows immediately, bouncing on his feet like an overgrown puppy before throwing his arms around both of them, turning the duo into a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter.

Even Yoongi gets up, offering a slow clap before joining with a more restrained but no less genuine embrace—the kind with back pats that guys do when they want to prove they have exactly two emotions: hungry and sports.

You hang back, suddenly aware of how many strangers are packed into this place.

The restaurant is full of people—at least a dozen beyond the ones you recognize—all focused on Jungkook with varying degrees of excitement. Some are already raising drinks in toast, others taking photos, a couple shouting things you can't quite make out over the general chaos.

"P-Kill! Happy birthday, man!"

"Proofs! You made it!"

"Proofy, get over here!"

What the actual fuck are these names?

You frown, trying to connect these bizarre nicknames to the Jungkook you know—the one who leaves his dirty dishes in the sink and plays his music too loud and once tried to convince you that Kraft mac and cheese was "technically gourmet."

None of this computes.

Jungkook catches your confusion as he disentangles himself from his friends, eyes flicking toward you with that familiar half-smile that somehow feels like a private joke.

"Hey," he says, suddenly at your side again. His hand brushes your elbow briefly—not grabbing, just a light touch that seems oddly grounding in this chaos. "These are my friends. Guys, this is my roommate."

He says your name easily, no ‘Phoenix’ or ‘Nix’ in sight, and it's weirdly jarring—like hearing a song you know played in the wrong key.

Not technically wrong, just... off.

The next few minutes are a blur of names and faces, most immediately forgotten as you try to keep track of who's who in this bizarre alternative universe where Jungkook is apparently the center of a large social circle. There's a group of guys—gamers, apparently—who keep calling him those weird nicknames.

"These three idiots," Jungkook explains, gesturing toward a trio of guys who look like they haven't seen sunlight in months, "are my Steam friends. My username is ProofedToKill, so that's where all the dumb nicknames come from."

Of course, that tracks. He's always yelling at the TV when he plays Call of Duty in the living room. You've had multiple arguments about it, usually ending with him putting on headphones and you turning up your music out of spite.

"Don't start," he warns, but there's no real edge to it. "I've already heard all your anti-shooters propaganda."

"It's not propaganda if it's true."

He rolls his eyes but doesn't take the bait, already being pulled toward another group by Taehyung.

"Come on, there are more people you should meet."

You follow, because what else are you going to do? Stand alone by the door like some kind of abandoned pet?

Besides, you're curious now. Curious about these other fragments of Jungkook's life that you've never been privy to before.

The space is packed, noisy in that way that forces everyone to talk slightly too loud. Sensory overload city. People keep touching Jungkook—hugs, shoulder claps, high fives—and he's letting them, which might be the weirdest part of all this.

Since when does he like being touched by people who aren't naked?

"Jungkook!" a female voice exclaims, cutting through the noise. A tall girl with auburn hair moves toward him with the confident grace of someone who's never tripped over her own feet in public. "Happy birthday!"

She wraps him in a hug that makes you realize just how tall she is—like, almost his height tall—and beside her, another girl—smaller, with short black hair and glasses—offers a more reserved greeting.

"Hey Tessa, hey Diana," Jungkook says, looking genuinely pleased to see them. "Didn't think you'd be here!"

Tessa.

The library girl. The one he was doing that group project thing with. The one who kept laughing too loud whenever Jungkook said something that probably wasn't even that funny.

"Taehyung invited us," she explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Jungkook says, and you hate how sincere he sounds.

Where's the sarcastic asshole you live with? Who is this pod person?

"We brought you something," Diana says, holding out a small bag. "Just a little thing."

Jungkook accepts it with a thanks that sounds almost shy, and what the fuck? Since when is he shy about anything?

"Oh, this is my roommate," he adds, suddenly remembering your existence.

He says your name again, and you force a smile because what else can you do in this bizarre social ritual?

"Nice to meet you," Tessa says with a warmth that feels genuine, which is almost worse than if she'd been fake. At least fake would make sense. "Jungkook's mentioned you before. You're in English Lit, right?"

He's talked about you? To her?

What the fuck has he said?

"Yeah," you manage, because apparently your vocabulary has been reduced to monosyllables in the face of all this unexpected social interaction. "English major."

"That's amazing," she says, and she actually seems to mean it. "I'm in Film too, but I've always loved literature. What's your focus?"

Before you can answer—thank god, because you haven't prepared a thesis statement on your academic interests for a birthday party—Hobi appears with a tray of shots, announcing that it's time for the birthday boy to start celebrating properly.

So, of course, the whole crowd moves towards him, shots being thrown back easily. You find yourself suddenly on the outside of it, still standing with Tessa and Diana but no longer the focus of their attention.

It's a relief, honestly.

You've never been good at this kind of thing—large groups, small talk, unfamiliar social dynamics.

It's like being dropped into a play where everyone else knows the script and you're just… improvising. Kinda hoping you don't accidentally say the wrong line and reveal yourself as the impostor.

Your eyes wander around the restaurant, taking in the details you missed—it’s actually a cozy place, warm wood and soft lighting, with private booths along one wall and a long table down the center where most of Jungkook's friends have gathered.

You can smell the sizzling of pans working through different ingredients—garlic, onion, ginger… But your eyes end up on Jungkook anyway.

He swallows down a shot, grimacing at the burn.

Someone passes him another.

Someone else claps him on the back.

He's at the center of all this attention and he's... thriving in it. Laughing, talking.

It’s strange, seeing him like this. So carefree, so loud (although he’s always loud but this is a different kind of loud?)—so in his… element.

You can’t help but feel out of place.

Because, truly. Do you even fit in here? Are you an element? Part of his element? Or whatever this is?

This morning you were agonizing over whether you could be friends with the guy you've been fucking.

Now you're standing in a room full of people who already are his friends, who've known him much longer than you have, who see a completely different side of him than the one you get.

It's... a lot.

You pull out your phone, needing something to do with your hands, but the screen stays dark. Okay. Dead. Fantastic.

"You okay?"

The voice at your elbow makes you jump.

It's Jungkook, somehow back at your side despite the crowd still demanding his attention.

"Fine," you say automatically. "Just... observing."

His eyes scan your face, more perceptive than you'd like. "You look like you'd rather be literally anywhere else."

"Not true. I can think of at least three places that would be worse." You tick them off on your fingers. "The DMV. An insurance seminar. Dinner with my parents."

That gets a laugh out of him—a real one, one you seem to be getting out of him more and more often.

“Fair enough. Come on, let me get you a drink. It'll help with..."

He pauses, purses his lips as he tilts his head at you.

"With what, exactly?"

"The whole 'I'd rather eat glass than make small talk with strangers' vibe you're giving off."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but he's already pulling you toward the bar, his hand warm against your lower back.

"It's fine, Phee," he says, the familiar nickname slipping out naturally now that you're momentarily separated from the crowd. "Not everyone's into the whole big social scene. You don't have to pretend."

You want to argue on principle—deny that he knows you that well, that he can read your discomfort so easily—but it would be pointless.

He's right.

You do hate this.

And the fact that he noticed, that he came back to check on you instead of just leaving you to flounder on your own...

It's annoying. Or it should be.

Instead, it feels weirdly considerate.

"I don't need a babysitter," you mutter as he flags down the bartender. "Go enjoy your party. I'm perfectly capable of standing in a corner judging people on my own."

"Maybe I'm enjoying my party more over here."

He orders something you don't catch, then turns back to you with that half-smile that's somehow more familiar than the broad grin he's been flashing at everyone else.

“Besides, if I leave you alone too long, you might decide to ditch, and then who would I blame when I need an excuse to escape Hobi's karaoke demands?"

"Yoongi seems like a good scapegoat."

"Nah, Yoongi secretly loves karaoke. Just pretends to hate it so people will beg him. It's weird."

The bartender slides two glasses toward Jungkook—whiskey is one, by the look of it.

The other one is…

Vodka cranberry.

He remembers?

You lick your lips. Nervous suddenly. Maybe. Or not really. Just uncomfortable, because here it is again. Jungkook being attentive, doing these stupid kind things that completely shatter the reputation you have built for him in your head.

"You really don't have to babysit me," you say again, but you take the drink anyway. "I'm fine."

His eyes search yours, more serious than usual. "I know you're fine. Maybe I just want to hang out with you."

Something shifts in your chest—a small, uncomfortable flutter.

“Why? You have a dozen other people here who actually like you."

"Ouch." He presses a hand to his heart, mock wounded. "And here I thought we were making progress on the whole friendship thing."

"The jury's still out on that one."

"Uh-huh." He takes a sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. "Well, consider this evidence for the 'pro' column: I noticed you were uncomfortable and came to rescue you instead of letting you suffer in silence."

"Maybe I prefer suffering in silence."

"No one prefers suffering in silence, Nix. Some people just don't think they deserve better."

The way he says it makes something twirl uncomfortable inside your chest.

You take a large drink instead of responding, welcoming the burn as it slides down your throat.

“Make sure to finish that quickly. Get ready for the party games.”

"There are going to be party games?"

"That’s only the beginning."

"So," you say, swaying your glass slightly, watching the burgundy liquid catch the light, "ProofedToKill, huh? Didn't know I was living with such a badass."

"No? I thought you knew how badass I am.”

“You’re bad, and an ass. That doesn’t make you a badass. Different word.”

He laughs, low and warm, and you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips without conscious input.

"You know what it actually means?" he asks, leaning back against the wall.

You raise an eyebrow. "That you're secretly a hitman with terrible grammar?"

"Hilarious." He rolls his eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. "It's a baking term, actually."

"A what now?"

"Baking. You know, that thing people do with flour and heat instead of burning the place down.”

“If you bring up the candle incident one more time—”

He makes a zipping motion over his mouth, and your lips twitch with the effort of chuckling.

“Wait, are you seriously telling me your super tough gamer name is about... baking?"

He sighs, looking down at his glass. "When you're making bread—sourdough specifically—there's this stage called 'proofing.’ It's when the dough rises, develops flavor. If you overproof it, it collapses. If you underproof, it's dense. But if you get it just right..."

"You've... proofed to kill?" you finish, unable to keep the disbelief from your voice.

"Exactly." He grins, clearly pleased that you've made the connection. "Perfect proofing. Killer bread. It's a whole thing."

You stare at him, genuinely speechless for perhaps the first time since you've known him.

This man—this infuriating, cocky roommate who struts around like he owns every room he enters—has a gamer tag based on fucking bread-making.

And he's admitting it.

Voluntarily.

"So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "Your badass online persona, the one all your friends call you by, is actually a baking pun?"

"In my defense, it's a really good pun. And most people assume it's about, you know, being good at shooting things. Which I also am." He shrugs, cockiness slipping back into place.

“You’re so weird,” you mutter, but you know he doesn’t take it seriously.

"Been doing it since college. The whole sourdough thing at midnight." He confesses, glancing around briefly, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, then lowers his voice. "My mom taught me. She had this whole recipe she'd developed over years, this perfect sourdough method. Made the best bread you've ever tasted."

Again that softness, almost reverence when he speaks about his mom.

It always catches you off guard. You've never heard him talk like this before. Never heard him talk about his family at all, really.

"After she..." he continues, then stops himself, shaking his head slightly. "Anyway. I keep trying to recreate it. Haven't quite nailed it yet."

Neither of you speak for a couple of beats. His gaze is still fixed on his drink, and then he takes a sip, like his mind is somewhere else completely.

“Is that why you stress-bake at 3 AM? Trying to get the proof right?"

His eyes meet yours, surprised.

Maybe a little grateful for the redirect.

“You’ve noticed?”

“I mean, I just went to the bathroom one night and saw you fighting the dough, so…”

He chuckles, gaze back on his glass. “Yeah. It's... meditative, I guess. Helps me think."

"Weird way to think, but okay."

"Says the person who reads the same depressing Kafka story fourteen times and calls it 'processing.'"

"It's a good story."

"It's about a guy turning into a giant bug."

"And it speaks to the alienation inherent in modern existence. Your point?"

He laughs again, shaking his head. "God, you're such a fucking English major."

"And you're a secret bread nerd. We all have our crosses to bear."

His smile shifts into something different—softer around the edges, almost vulnerable. "Don't tell anyone, okay? About the username thing. I have a reputation to maintain."

"What, you mean your friends don't know your tough gamer handle is actually about your sourdough obsession?"

"Only Yoongi knows. And now you." He drums his fingers on the glass once, twice. "That's enough oversharing on my part for the day, I think. Sooner or later it's going to have to be your turn, you know, Pyx?"

Great. A new variation of your nickname. Does he ever stop coming up with them?

"My turn for what?"

"Sharing something real." His eyes hold yours, steady. "Friendship goes both ways, Nix."

You scoff, ignoring the way your heart rate picks up slightly. "I share things."

"Like what? Your coffee order doesn't count."

"I told you about the IUD."

"That's medical, not personal."

"It's literally inside my body. How much more personal can it get?"

He sighs, but he makes it dramatic this time. "You know what I mean. Something that matters to you. Something real."

You do know. That's the problem. He's asking for exactly the kind of vulnerability you've spent years carefully avoiding. The kind that gives people ammunition, that creates expectations, that leads to disappointment when you inevitably fail to meet them.

But he just told you about his mom. About bread and baking and usernames that mean more than they appear to. He offered something real—small, maybe, but genuine.

And isn't that what this whole friendship experiment is supposed to be about?

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what's going to come out, when a crash from across the restaurant saves you. Hobi has somehow managed to knock over an entire tray of drinks, and the resulting chaos immediately draws everyone's attention, including Jungkook's.

"Shit," he mutters, already half-moving. "I should go help before he makes it worse."

"Go," you nod, equal parts relieved and strangely disappointed. "Your public needs you."

He hesitates, eyes still on yours. "We're not done with this conversation."

"Pretty sure we are."

"Pretty sure we're just getting started." He stands fully, but doesn't leave immediately. "Come join, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him weave through the crowd toward the spill, already calling out something to Hobi that makes the other man laugh despite the mess. It's strange, seeing him like this—in his element, surrounded by people who know him in ways you don't.

ProofedToKill. A baking pun turned gamer tag. A piece of his mother he carries with him, encrypted in plain sight.

You take another sip of your vodka cranberry, wondering what else about Jungkook you've been missing all this time.

Eleven people crammed around a table is basically psychological warfare in restaurant form.

You're somehow stuck directly across from Jungkook, because apparently the universe has a shitty sense of humor.

Next to him, Tessa has claimed her territory, her long legs perfectly positioned under the table while yours are already cramping from the weird angle. Of course.

At least you've got Yoongi on your left—a silent, grounding presence in the chaos. When you'd awkwardly hovered near his chair, he'd just grunted and shifted slightly to make room.

In Yoongi-speak, that's practically a formal invitation with calligraphy and shit.

Diana sits on your other side, petite and prim, her small hands already arranging her napkin with quick movements. She keeps glancing at Tessa across the table with an expression you can't quite decipher—somewhere between admiration and mild disapproval.

The menu in Yoongi's hands looks worn and slightly sticky, but your stomach is basically staging a revolt after hours of nothing but ibuprofen and vodka. You lean over, scanning the options without asking permission because fuck it, you're hungry.

The spicy ramen section catches your eye immediately.

Your stomach gives another impatient growl.

"I want those," you announce, pointing at the spiciest option on the menu.

Yoongi barely blinks. "Cool. I didn't ask."

You roll your eyes and lean back in your chair because, okay, whatever. Rude ass. Though honestly, there's something almost refreshing about his complete lack of social polish.

At least you always know where you stand with him, which is approximately nowhere.

A movement across the table draws your attention.

Jungkook's eyes have lifted from his own menu, catching yours with an intensity that feels weirdly intimate in the crowded space. His gaze flickers down again almost immediately, but not before you notice the corner of his mouth tilting upward.

What's he laughing about? Stupid. He's stupid.

"I kinda wanted the spicy ones too," he says, looking up again. "Maybe we can share?"

You squint at him suspiciously. "Huh? No. I want the bowl entirely for me."

Diana makes a soft sound beside you—half laugh, half disbelief.

“I can't believe you can eat all that."

The words hang there for a moment while your brain processes the judgment packaged in her innocent-sounding comment.

Did she just really—

"C'mon Diana," Tessa cuts in swiftly, laugh warm and genuine, "not everyone has a small stomach like you."

Diana scowls, her delicate features pinching together. "I just think that's a lot to eat."

"Bro, I could eat two bowls in one sitting," Jungkook says.

"Make that three," Taehyung adds from Jungkook's other side. "You're a fucking goblin, Kooks."

"Three? Amateur," one of the gamer guys—Steve? Sean?—chimes in from the end of the table. "Remember that time after the tournament when you ate four bowls of ramen and then threw up in my car?"

"That was food poisoning," Jungkook protests. "Totally different situation."

"Your face was poisoned."

"What does that even mean?"

"Your face... poisoned... my eyes," the guy finishes lamely, clearly losing his train of thought.

"Ten points from Slytherin for that weak-ass comeback," Hobi declares, raising his beer like a wizard's wand. "Jungkook requires better trash talk in his honor."

"Oh shit, we're using Hogwarts points now?" another one asks. "When did we switch systems?"

"Since I just decided, and I'm the dungeon master."

"That's D&D, you uncultured swine," Taehyung sighs, long-suffering. "Completely different franchise."

"Whatever, they're all just wizard nerds," Hobi says with a dismissive wave.

"That's wizard king to you, peasant," Jungkook corrects, puffing out his chest.

“Do you all... actually play these games?" Diana asks, voice faintly disdainful.

"Only when we're not busy with our super cool and important adult lives," Taehyung says, deadpan.

"I just don't get the appeal," she sniffs. "Sitting inside all day, staring at screens—"

"Yo," Hobi cuts in smoothly, somehow managing to sound both friendly and firm at the same time, "different strokes for different folks. Some people climb mountains, some people slay digital dragons. Both valid."

Diana shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. "I guess."

"Besides," you find yourself saying, "it's literally his birthday. Maybe, I don't know, let him enjoy things without the judgment?"

The words come out sharper than intended, surprising even you.

Since when do you jump to Jungkook's defense? Since when do you care if someone judges his nerdy gaming habits?

Jungkook looks equally surprised, eyebrows raised slightly as he studies your face. Then his expression shifts into something softer, almost appreciative.

"Exactly. Today's about celebrating you," Tessa adds, turning to Jungkook with a warm smile. "And apparently your inhuman ability to consume ramen."

"It's my superpower," he says solemnly. "With great appetite comes great indigestion."

A ripple of laughter moves around the table, breaking the awkward moment. Diana still looks sulky, but at least she's dropped the subject.

The waiter appears then, ready to take orders, and the conversation splinters as everyone tries to decide what they want.

"You really getting the level five spicy?" Yoongi asks quietly while the others debate.

"Yeah. Why, think I can't handle it?"

He snorts. "Just checking if I need to order extra water for when you inevitably start crying."

"I do not cry from spicy food."

"Everyone cries from spicy food if it's actually spicy."

"Well, we'll see, won't we?"

He shrugs, a barely perceptible movement of one shoulder. "Your funeral."

"Comforting as always, Yoon."

The ghost of a smile flits across his face before he returns to his default expression of mild disinterest.

Across the table, Jungkook is in the middle of a heated debate with Taehyung about... something involving a game you've never heard of. His hands move animatedly as he talks, face lit with genuine enthusiasm. One of his friends keeps trying to interject, but Jungkook and Taehyung are in their own world, talking over each other and somehow still understanding perfectly.

He looks so unguarded.

So... normal. Like any other twenty-something guy arguing about video games with his friends.

Not that you care. It's just an observation.

"So you're Jungkook's roommate," Diana says, drawing your attention back to her. Her tone suggests this is somehow both surprising and slightly concerning.

"Yep." You keep it brief, hoping she'll take the hint and drop whatever line of questioning is forming behind those judgmental eyes.

No such luck.

"And how did that happen exactly? Through the university housing board?"

"Craigslist, actually."

Her eyebrows shoot up like you've just admitted to finding the apartment through a demonic summoning ritual.

“Oh! Isn't that... dangerous?"

"Not really. The apartment was already Yoongi and Jungkook's. I just answered the ad for the third room."

"Still," she persists, "moving in with two guys you don't know. That's brave."

The way she says ‘brave’ makes it clear she means ‘stupid,’ but you're not in the mood to defend your housing choices to someone who probably thinks spicy ramen is too adventurous.

"Not really. Yoongi's background check was pretty thorough," you deadpan. "Only had to provide three references, a blood sample, and my complete genetic history."

Diana blinks, clearly unsure if you're joking.

"It's true," Yoongi confirms without looking up from his phone. "Her midichlorian count was acceptable."

"What’s… midichlorian?" Diana asks uncertainly.

"It’s a real scientific test," you say, keeping your expression perfectly serious. "Very exclusive."

She frowns, increasingly confused, and you feel a small, petty satisfaction at her discomfort.

"They're fucking with you," Taehyung calls from across the table, apparently tuned into your conversation despite seemingly being absorbed in his argument with Jungkook. "It's a Star Wars reference."

"Oh." Diana forces a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. "Right."

"Ignore them," Tessa says kindly. "They operate on their own wavelength sometimes."

"Especially these two," Hobi adds, gesturing between Taehyung and Jungkook. "Like an old married couple, but with more shouting and fewer financial benefits."

"What do you mean fewer financial benefits?" Jungkook protests. "I've been carrying his broke ass in-game economy for years."

"That gold farm was my idea!"

"Your idea crashed the server and got us banned for a week!"

"Details," Taehyung waves dismissively. "The point is, I'm the brains of this operation."

"And I'm the beauty," Jungkook fires back, striking a pose that makes Hobi snort water through his nose.

It's all so... easy. The banter, the inside jokes, the casual way they navigate each other's personalities. They've clearly had years to develop this rhythm, to learn each other's edges and how to fit together despite them—or maybe because of them.

Something twists in your chest, sharp and unexpected. You busy yourself with your water glass, suddenly very interested in the condensation gathering along its sides.

The waiter returns with drinks, setting them around the table. You're grateful for the distraction, for something to do with your hands besides fidget awkwardly.

"Alright," Hobi declares once everyone has a drink, lifting his glass. "To the birthday boy! May your K/D ratio remain impressive and your hairline unreceded."

"Here's to another year of Jungkook being Jungkook," Taehyung adds, raising his own glass. "God help us all."

"To Kooks," Tessa says, her voice softer but no less sincere. "Happy birthday."

Glasses clink around the table, a chorus of echoed sentiments following. You lift your glass automatically, catching Jungkook's eye as you do. He's watching you, before he smiles—small and surprisingly genuine.

"Thanks for getting me here," he says quietly, just for you.

"Don't mention it," you reply, equally quiet. "Seriously. Don't. I'll deny everything."

His smile widens, and for a moment, it feels like you're back in that booth from earlier—just the two of you, everyone else fading to background noise.

Then Taehyung jostles his arm, demanding his opinion on something, and the moment breaks.

You take a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the strange feeling that's settled in your chest.

It's probably just hunger. Or the vodka from earlier.

Or the fact that you've been in this loud, crowded restaurant for what feels like hours now, surrounded by people you barely know, playing a role you're not quite sure how to perform.

Yeah. That's definitely it.

The server arrives with a ridiculous number of bowls balanced along his arms like some kind of food-based Cirque du Soleil performer. Steam rises from each one, carrying scents that make your stomach growl with embarrassing volume.

A massive, angry-looking bowl lands in front of you, the broth practically glowing red. It looks like someone liquefied the sun and threw in some noodles as an afterthought.

Perfect.

Two bowls slide in front of Jungkook—your spicy demon soup's twin and something much more reasonable looking, probably miso based on the color.

"Hungry much?" you ask, eyeing his double order.

"Growing boy," he shrugs, already reaching for chopsticks.

Taehyung, meanwhile, receives... a plate of curry rice?

"Seriously?" You can't help the judgment that leaks into your voice. "We're at a ramen place and you ordered curry?"

He shoots you a look that could curdle milk. "Some of us have taste beyond 'hot noodle soup.'"

"Some of us aren't afraid of flavor, dickasso."

"Bold words from someone currently holding weapons-grade capsaicin," he fires back, gesturing at your bowl. "Does your taste even function, or did you burn it all away with your sad little Hot Pockets diet?"

"At least I'm not too precious to eat what the restaurant specializes in."

“This is objectively superior."

"Only if your objective is being a pretentious dick."

"I prefer 'discerning connoisseur.'"

"You would."

You hate that banter with Taehyung is starting to become more and more comfortable. Like verbal sparring with someone who actually knows how to return a serve, instead of just standing there getting hit in the face with the ball.

Not that you like him or anything. His whole vibe—artsy, too cool for school, judgmental as fuck—is objectively annoying.

But maybe also a little entertaining.

In small doses.

Very small.

Across the table, Hobi watches this exchange with undisguised amusement, head swiveling between you.

"I feel like I'm witnessing the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he says, grinning widely. "Or a homicide. Hard to tell."

"Definitely homicide," Taehyung and you say in unison, then glare at each other for the coordination.

You turn your attention back to your ramen, inhaling the spicy steam before digging in. The first bite hits like a kick to the teeth—pain followed immediately by pleasure.

It's fucking delicious despite feeling like you just licked the surface of the sun.

"Good?" Yoongi asks, watching your face with what might be the ghost of amusement.

"Incredible," you manage, already reaching for more.

Across the table, Jungkook dives into his own spicy bowl with enthusiasm, slurping noodles with zero concern for how it looks. A drop of broth escapes, clinging to his lower lip.

You're about to say something—point it out, make fun of his complete lack of eating etiquette, something—when Tessa reaches out, casual as anything, and swipes her thumb across his lip.

"Messy," she says, the word warm with affection.

He tilts his head toward her, smiling in a way that can only be described as flirtatious.

“That's my brand."

You purse your lips, returning your attention to your own food.

Whatever. Let him preen over a pretty girl paying attention to him. His loser ass probably never gets that chance.

Although... that's a lie and you know it.

The guy is annoyingly good-looking and he knows it. He's probably used to girls fawning over him, cleaning his face like he's a toddler who can't be trusted with utensils.

"Whatcha looking at, Phee—" He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes widening slightly. "—asantly surprised by how spicy that ramen is? Your face is getting red."

Smooth recovery. Not.

"Just thinking about how long it's been since I've had decent ramen."

You grab your water glass, suddenly very aware of the burning sensation spreading across your tongue.

It's fine. Totally manageable. Nothing to worry about.

"Knew it," Yoongi mutters beside you.

You set the glass down with more force than necessary. "It's not spicy."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't even bother looking up from his own bowl. "That's why your face is the same color as the broth."

"It's warm in here."

"Sure it is."

"I can handle spice."

"Never said you couldn't."

"You implied it."

He finally glances at you, expression as bored as ever. "I implied you're a liar, not a spice lightweight."

"I'm not—" Another wave of heat crashes through your mouth, cutting off your protest. "Fine. It's a little spicy."

The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smile on anyone else. "A little."

"Shut up and eat your boring miso."

Amazingly, he actually laughs—a short, quiet sound that's there and gone so quickly you almost think you imagined it.

But no, that was definitely a laugh. From Yoongi. Directed at something you said.

Huh.

You return to your ramen, determined to finish it despite the way your sinuses are starting to protest.

It's a matter of pride now. You said you could handle it, so you'll handle it, even if it kills you.

Which it might. But what a way to go.

You glance up, seeing how Jungkook and Tessa have their heads tilted toward each other, engaged in what looks like a very amusing conversation based on her laugh. She keeps touching his arm, casual little points of contact that seem to arrive at perfectly timed intervals.

She's good at this, you'll give her that. The whole flirting thing. Not too obvious, not too reserved. Just the right amount of interest without seeming desperate.

Huh. He might get laid tonight then. Not by you.

Good for him.

"You're staring again," Taehyung says, his voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. "Plotting his murder or just generally disapproving of his existence?"

"Just wondering how someone with the personality of a half-deflated balloon animal manages to function in society," you reply smoothly.

"Years of practice and an excellent support system." He gestures between himself and Hobi, who's busy trying to convince one of the gamer guys that yes, there is in fact sake in the sake bomb he just drank. "We've been managing his personality disorder since freshman year."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." His eyes drift to where Jungkook is now showing Tessa something on his phone, both of them laughing. "But he has his moments."

You turn your attention back to your food. Halfway through, you make the tactical error of taking a large bite just as Hobi says something particularly funny, causing you to inhale sharply—and sending a piece of chili directly into your windpipe.

Coughing. So much coughing.

Your eyes water immediately, turning the table into a blurry mess of colors and shapes as you desperately reach for your water again.

"Easy there," Yoongi says, actually sounding a little concerned as he pushes your glass closer. "Small sips."

You manage to get the water down between coughs, the cool liquid offering minimal relief to your burning throat.

"You okay?" Jungkook asks, leaning across the table with a frown.

Great. Now everyone's looking at you. Perfect. Just what you wanted. All the attention.

"Fine," you rasp, waving a hand dismissively. "Went down the wrong pipe."

"Maybe you should try something less lethal," Diana suggests, eyeing your bowl with thinly veiled judgment. "Like the mild shoyu."

"I'm good with my life choices, thanks."

"Not all of them, I hope," Taehyung mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table, aiming for his shin but probably hitting the table leg instead based on his lack of reaction.

"If you die from ramen, I'm not cleaning out your room," Yoongi says matter-of-factly.

"Noted. I'll make sure to haunt you specifically."

"Bold of you to assume I'd notice the difference."

"What, between me alive and me as a ghost?"

"You already have a resting bitch face and make weird noises at night. How would I tell?"

You choke again, this time on your own surprise.

"I do not make weird noises at night!"

"The walls are thin."

Heat creeps up your neck, and it has nothing to do with the spice level of your food.

“I don't—that's not—"

"Relax. I meant the way you talk in your sleep."

Oh. That's... marginally less mortifying.

"I talk in my sleep?"

"Constantly."

"About what?"

He shrugs. "Mostly nonsense. Something about pencils last night. Very intense opinions on pencils."

"I don't have opinions about pencils," you protest. "Intense or otherwise."

"Tell that to your subconscious."

The conversation shifts as one of the gamers—Ryan? you think?—slams his empty sake cup on the table with more force than necessary.

"Yo!" he announces, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "We should do shots. Birthday shots for the birthday boy!"

A chorus of approval goes up around the table. Even Diana looks on board with this plan, probably because alcohol is the one thing that might loosen up whatever's holding her personality together.

"The birthday boy needs birthday shots," Hobi agrees, already signaling the waiter.

Taehyung groans. "Please tell me we're not doing that ridiculous 'one shot for each year' tradition. I'm not carrying his drunk ass home again."

"That was one time," Jungkook protests.

"One time too many. You kept trying to pet dogs that weren't there."

"I was seeing through the space-time continuum to where dogs would eventually be."

"You threw up in my shower."

"I cleaned it!"

"With my loofah!"

"I replaced it!"

"After I used it!"

You watch this exchange with growing amusement, the rapid-fire back-and-forth almost dizzying in its intensity. It's clear this is a well-worn argument, trotted out for entertainment value rather than actual grievance.

"Fine," Taehyung concedes dramatically. "Birthday shots. But I'm not responsible for any hallucinated canines or bathroom incidents."

"Deal," Jungkook grins, then turns to Tessa. "You in?"

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I should probably pace myself. Early class tomorrow."

"Responsible," he nods, mock serious. "I respect that."

"Unlike some people," Taehyung mutters, glancing pointedly at Jungkook.

"It's my birthday. I'm legally exempt from responsibility for twenty-four hours."

"That's not a law."

"It's the law of birthdays, Tae. Everyone knows this."

Ryan—definitely Ryan—flags down the server successfully this time, ordering a round of shots for the table.

“Even for the responsible ones," he insists when Tessa tries to decline. "Just one. For Proofs."

She relents with a smile, rolling her stupid pretty eyes.

"You too, Miss Spicy Ramen," Ryan says, nodding toward you. "Unless you can't handle your liquor either."

Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge.

"I can handle my liquor just fine," you say.

“Debatable,” Jungkook mutters, the menace.

"Oh, fighting words," Hobi laughs, clapping his hands together. "I sense a story here."

"There's no story," Jungkook says quickly.

"I think we've found the first drinking game of the night," Hobi declares. "Most embarrassing Jungkook stories. Winner gets... I don't know, bragging rights and my eternal respect."

"That's not fair," Jungkook protests. "I'm the birthday boy. I should be exempt from humiliation."

"Birthday boy gets birthday roast," Taehyung counters.

Even Yoongi cracks a smile at that, which might be the most shocking development of the evening so far.

Five shots in and the room has developed that particular tilt that makes everything both sharper and blurrier at the same time.

"Next round!" Seth announces, grinning as he surveys the damage he's caused.

Seth, as you've learned through increasingly slurred introductions, is one of Jungkook's film school friends—tall, blonde, and way too enthusiastic about drinking games for someone his size.

"Embarrassing stories! Laugh and you drink!"

Groans mixed with cheers ripple around the table, which has somehow gotten messier and louder with each passing shot. Empty glasses create a small army between plates. Someone knocked over the soy sauce earlier, and no one's bothered to clean it up.

"Oh, oh, OH!" Taehyung practically bounces in his seat, raising his hand like an overeager student. "I have one."

"This'll be good," Yoongi mutters beside you, the most he's spoken in twenty minutes.

Taehyung clears his throat dramatically. "Picture this: Eighth grade. School talent show."

"No," Jungkook groans, head dropping into his hands. "Not that one."

"Yes, that one." Taehyung's grin is borderline evil. "Our boy Kooks here decides he's going to impress Minah Park with a dance routine."

"I'm begging you," Jungkook says, voice muffled through his fingers.

"To what song, you ask?" Taehyung continues, undeterred. "None other than 'Milkshake' by Kelis."

Ryan lets out a bark of laughter, immediately reaching for his shot.

"Oh my god," Diana whispers, eyes wide.

"Did he know what the song was about?" Tessa asks, already giggling.

"That's the best part," Taehyung says, pausing for dramatic effect. "He thought it was literally about making good milkshakes. His mom helped him with the routine."

The table erupts. Even Yoongi snorts, reaching for his shot glass with resigned dignity. You're trying—genuinely trying—to hold it in, pressing your lips together, but then you make the mistake of looking at Jungkook's mortified expression and it's over. Laughter spills out, and you grab your shot, tossing it back with a wince.

"His mom found out what it meant halfway through the performance," Taehyung continues, wiping tears from his eyes. "Her face—I wish smartphones existed back then."

"I hate you," Jungkook mutters, but there's no heat behind it. "So much."

"Did Minah like it at least?" Hobi asks, still chuckling.

"She transferred schools the next week," Taehyung says solemnly. "Unrelated reasons, allegedly."

Another round of laughter, another round of shots.

"My turn," Hobi declares once the chaos subsides. "Let me tell you about the first time I met this guy."

"Which version are you telling?" Jungkook asks warily.

"The true one," Hobi says with a wink. "Picture it: 2021. Dance studio on 8th. This scrawny kid walks in, says he needs to film a project for his class."

"I wasn't scrawny," Jungkook protests.

"You were a twig with hair," Hobi dismisses. "Anyway, he sets up his equipment, very professional, very serious. Then my advanced hip-hop class starts, and halfway through, he abandons his camera to try and join in."

"Oh no," Tessa whispers, delighted.

"Oh yes," Hobi confirms. "He jumps in, full confidence, absolutely sure he can keep up. Two eight-counts later, he slips, takes out my star student, and they both crash into the mirror."

"It didn't break!" Jungkook interjects.

"It cracked," Hobi corrects. "Still there. I call it the Jungkook Memorial Spiderweb."

You laugh despite yourself, drinking quickly to hide your smile when Jungkook shoots you a betrayed look.

"What about you, Yoongi?" Seth asks, refilling glasses with alarming efficiency. "How'd you meet the birthday boy?"

Yoongi regards the question like it's asked him to explain quantum physics.

“Music production seminar. He needed help with a film score." He shrugs. "He wasn't completely terrible."

"From Yoongi, that's basically a marriage proposal," Hobi stage-whispers.

"Wow, such a beautiful story," you deadpan. "So moving. So detailed."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Not all of us need a thousand words to make a point."

"Clearly." You snort, then immediately regret it when the room spins slightly.

"What about you, new girl?" Seth asks, suddenly focused on you with an intensity that feels both flattering and vaguely predatory. "Got any good Jungkook stories from the roommate archives?"

All eyes turn to you, expectant.

You scramble for something suitably embarrassing but not too revealing.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” you say, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “But I have to live with him, so I’m weighing the entertainment value against the revenge factor.”

“Coward,” Taehyung coughs into his hand.

"Yeah, tell us the real dirt," Seth presses, leaning forward with a grin that suggests he's hoping for something scandalous.

You narrow your eyes, suddenly protective of the weird dynamic you share with Jungkook. These people don't get to know about the late-night arguments over the TV volume, or the silent coffee maker standoffs, or the way he sometimes hums in the shower when he thinks no one can hear.

"Sorry to disappoint," you say with exaggerated sweetness, "but I value my security deposit too much to reveal his darkest secrets."

"Cop-out," Seth accuses, but he's smiling.

"Another round!" Ryan announces, refilling shot glasses with something that smells vaguely like cinnamon and regret. "Tessa, you laughed at the dance story, you owe one."

“I didn’t!” she protests, but she’s fighting a smile now. “I was just… appreciating the story.”

“Liar! Your lips twitched. That’s a drink.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “No way. I have that early class, remember?”

Before Ryan can argue further, Jungkook smoothly grabs her shot and downs it in one fluid motion.

“Problem solved,” he says, setting the empty glass back on the table with a decisive clink.

Something about the gesture—casual, protective, maybe a little possessive—makes your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol or spicy ramen.

Seth slides another shot toward you. “Here, you need a refill.”

You stare at it, trying to do math through the fuzzy haze of alcohol.

How many shots have you had? Four? Five? You've lost count, which is probably not a great sign.

But everyone’s looking at you, waiting, and you’ve never been good at backing down from a challenge—especially when you’re already tipsy and your judgment is shot to hell.

You reach for the shot, hesitating only slightly. It burns going down, making you cough and sputter in a way that is definitely not attractive, but whatever. You can handle it.

Probably.

“Another round!” Seth calls. “Funniest pet stories. Go.”

And so the new game continues, stories flying around the table with increasing volume and decreasing coherence.

You lose track of who’s talking, everything blurring into laughter and voices and the clinking of glasses.

“Oh, and remember when Jungkook tried to sneak into that bar with his cousin’s ID?” someone is saying—maybe Ryan? The faces at the end of the table are swimming a bit. “The bouncer took one look at the picture and said, ‘This says you’re 5’4” and Filipino.’”

More laughter, more shots. The room spins again when you tilt your head back to drink.

“Another one for you,” Seth says, sliding a fresh shot in front of you after you laugh at something Hobi said. His hand lingers near yours on the table, fingers almost but not quite touching. “Don’t tell me you’re backing down so soon?"

The challenge in his tone hits some stupid part of your brain—the part that's been responsible for most of your worst decisions.

So of course you grab the shot.

"Just getting started," you declare, tossing it back with more confidence than coordination.

Seth grins, clearly pleased by your response. "I like you. You're fun."

"I'm a goddamn delight," you agree solemnly, which makes Taehyung snort into his drink.

The next round comes with someone telling a tale about Jungkook getting locked out of his dorm freshman year wearing only a towel. Hobi recounts the time Jungkook tried to learn breakdancing and sprained both wrists. Jungkook retaliates with something about Taehyung and body paint that has everyone howling and reaching for their drinks.

You keep pace, determined not to be the one who can't hang, even as the room develops an interesting spin and your tongue feels increasingly disconnected from your brain.

"Another one!" Seth declares, sliding a fresh shot in front of you.

You stare at it, hiccupping slightly. The thought of one more makes your stomach perform an acrobatic maneuver.

"I don't know..."

"Come on," he urges, eyes bright with that specific drunk intensity people get when they're determined to make everyone else as wasted as they are. "Don't quit now."

You hiccup slightly, staring at the shot with growing uncertainty.

Your stomach churns in warning.

But your pride is a stubborn, stupid stupid thing.

Before you can decide, Jungkook’s arm shoots across the table, grabbing the shot and downing it in one quick movement. His eyes find Seth’s, narrowed and unmistakably warning.

“I think she’s good,” he says, voice deceptively casual.

Seth raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just keeping the game going, man.”

You stare at Jungkook, confused by the intervention. He catches your look and shrugs, a simple ‘what?’ in his expression that somehow makes you frown harder.

The game shifts again, someone suggesting “Never Have I Ever” as a change of pace. Your brain struggles to keep up with the new rules, everything moving a little too fast, a little too loud.

“Never have I ever…” Seth taps his chin thoughtfully, eyes finding yours again. “Been skinny dipping.”

You groan internally. Of course he’d pick something designed to make people admit to being naked. Typical.

Those who have done it drink, including Jungkook, which makes Tessa raise her eyebrows in a way that seems both surprised and intrigued.

You remain still, glass untouched, which somehow feels like a victory.

The questions continue around the table, growing progressively more suggestive as everyone’s inhibitions lower.

A fresh shot appears in front of you, courtesy of Ryan, who’s moved on from the game and is now just passing out alcohol indiscriminately.

“Drink up!” he declares. “We’re celebrating!”

You stare at the shot, swaying slightly in your seat. The room feels too hot, too crowded, too everything. Your brain is sending out warning signals, but they’re muffled under layers of alcohol and stubbornness.

Jungkook is watching you, expression unreadable but lips pressed together in what might be concern.

He knows you shouldn’t drink that.

You know you shouldn’t drink that.

But admitting it feels like losing somehow.

So you reach for the glass. Fingers clumsy.

Suddenly it’s gone—snatched away by a hand behind you.

“She doesn’t want any more, broski.”

You whip around so fast the room spins alarmingly, but there’s no mistaking that voice, that attitude, that general aura of ‘fuck around and find out.’

Yeji throws back the shot with 0 problem, slamming the empty glass on the table with a decisive clink.

Behind her, Irya and Jimin hover like backup, taking in the scene with varying levels of amusement.

“Surprise.” Yeji grins, sharp and protective. “Happy birthday, dickhead,” she adds, nodding at Jungkook. “Mind if we crash the party?”

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spideyjimin · 4 months ago

Text

Bloodlines entwined: III | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

— genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 7,460

— warnings: mention of death, murder, and abortion, crying, kind of heartbreak, nervousness, a tiny growing sexual tension, and some teasing

— author’s note: sssooo this chapter finally explains a bit more about the werewolf universe, and i hope it’s a bit clearer for you. a lot more explanations will come throughout the series as i can’t reveal it all in one chapter. the next chapter is actually my favourite and i definelty can’t wait to post it 😊 hope you’ll enjoy this one & let me know what you think <3

taglist is closed!

Chapter III: untold truth

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook spent the rest of the night thinking about you. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He couldn’t believe that you’re a werewolf.

Obviously, you’re not aware of it otherwise you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did when he revealed the existence of the werewolf word. Normally, you should have recognized him since he’s the king, but you didn’t. So, he strongly believes that you were adopted. That’s the only reason that could explain why you aren’t aware.

Now, he needs to understand why you were adopted. A pack never gives up on their little ones. He can think of many reasons why, but he needs to figure out what happened to you. He doesn’t want to simply reveal your true nature without having any certainty.

However, what concerns him is the fact that you haven’t turned yet. Normally, around fourteen years old, under a full moon, you should have experienced your first transformation. Maybe the fact that you ignore everything about that has caused your wolf blood to be dormant.

The next morning, he started looking into every record he has access to about the Shadows. The blue eyes are a characteristic specific to the Shadow pack. Every pack has its own eye color; it’s the way to distinguish every wolf. Jungkook’s pack, the Bloods, has red eyes. However, his eyes have a darker red shade. This is a trait specific to the king; he inherits it the second he goes from heir to king.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung, his best friend makes his way inside his office.

The man looks up at his best friend before a bright smile appears on his face. It’s been a little while since they last saw each other. Taehyung has been traveling a lot lately; he said he wants to discover the world before settling with his mate. However, it looks like he doesn’t want to settle down at all.

“Hey, Tae,” he stands up to greet his best friend. “What are you doing here? I thought you were lost somewhere in France.”

“Well, I needed to come back,” he replies with a smile. “Couldn’t stay forever in France.”

Both men start talking about what has been happening for the last month. Jungkook doesn’t go too much into detail. He only mentions he contacted a fertility clinic, and that he’s right now concerned about something happening in the Shadow pack.

Taehyung, on his side, tells his friend about all the places he went to. He was in Europe, discovering a lot of different countries. He definitely adored going around and discovering new cultures, new food, and meeting new people. For sure, his favorite place was Paris.

“Do you need any help with those Shadows research?” Taehyung asks casually although his sharp gaze indicates that he already knows the answer.

Jungkook nods, his shoulders visibly tense. He’s never been one to ask for help, but this time he definitely would need some.

“I wouldn’t refuse it,” he answers to his most trusted friend.

Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning against Jungkook’s wooden bookcase.

“What exactly are you looking for?” he frowns while grabbing a book.

“I don’t really know,” Jungkook says. “A record, a mention, a trace of a couple that died or disappeared,” he explains.

Taehyung looks up at his friend before looking down at the book again. By pure coincidence, the book he’s holding is an old one about the different werewolf packs. It’s one of the first books he read; it details the characteristics of each pack.

“A couple who died or disappeared?” he repeats his friend’s words. “Is this by any chance related to a girl?”

Jungkook freezes for a split second, but it’s enough for Taehyung to catch. He’s been very observant, especially when it comes to Jungkook.

“No,” he lies, his voice steady and firm.

Taehyung isn’t convinced; his eyes narrow as he studies his friend. He knows Jungkook better than anyone else, and while he’s very good at hiding his emotions, there’s something in his posture, something in the way he’s looking at Taehyung, that betrays him.

“You’re unreadable when you want it, you know that?” Taehyung finally says, walking closer to his friend who is standing behind his desk. “But something tells me this isn’t just about finding old records. If you’re diving into the Shadows' history, there’s a good reason behind it. You don’t waste your time on anything without a reason.”

Jungkook sights while running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, Tae.”

“You know I’m here, right? Whatever this is, whatever you’re digging into, you don’t have to do it alone.”

The werewolf king would love to tell him everything, but he doesn’t want to involve anyone at this stage. First, he needs to make sure you’re a werewolf, and only then, he’ll reveal it.

“I know, Tae. I just need to be sure before I tell you anything,” his voice lowers. “Before I tell anyone anything.”

Taehyung nods, understanding that his best friend will share when he’s ready.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll start digging into the Shadow Pack archives. See if I can find anything about missing couples and unexplained disappearances.”

Taehyung’s aunt is married to a Shadow alpha so it will definitely help. As a king, he for sure has access to a lot of records, but not everything. Each pack has its own secrets, and that’s the beauty of it. If Jungkook knew everything, his job would be boring. There’s always something new to unveil. Like your past.

Taehyung disappears a little while after, leaving Jungkook alone with his eyes fixed on the flames in the fireplace. The shadows dance across the stone walls, but his mind is somewhere else, on you, and on the fragile heartbeat growing inside you. He can still hear it perfectly.

He runs a hand down his face before letting out a deep breath. This was never supposed to go down like that. This mistake was never supposed to happen. But the raw and undeniable truth has already sunk its claws into him.

How can he turn away from this? From you? From the baby?

He remembers the flicker of blue in your eyes. It’s been replaying constantly on his mind, but what is deeply engraved in him is this connection with you. He constantly feels your presence around him, something he’s never felt with anyone else.

Even though he’s been deeply sorry to have brought you to his world, this flicker of blue made him realize that he brought you to your world. A world you didn’t know existed until he revealed it. His duty has been telling him to stay away, but he can’t.

The thought creeps in quietly, yet with unshakable certainty: This was never a mistake.

The world may call it an accident, but Jungkook can feel something deeper, something ancient, something undeniable. Fate, destiny… whatever name it might have, it brought the two of you here. Together.

Every choice and every moment has led to this point. To you.

Now, standing quietly in his study, he feels the truth settling deep in his bones. This child growing inside you was always meant to happen. Jungkook leans against the edge of his desk.

“I can’t abandon this child, my child,” he whispers to himself. “I can’t abandon yn.”

It isn’t about duty anymore. It’s about you. It’s about the fragile life caught between two worlds, and the bond he can already feel forming. Whether he’s ready to admit it or not. Jungkook straightens up, shoulders squared, and jaw tight. The king in him knows what needs to be done, but the man knows what he wants to do.

“I’m staying,” he runs his hand over his hair.

This isn’t just a choice. It’s the acceptance of what was always meant to be. Whatever challenges await, Jungkook knows one thing with absolute certainty: This was always supposed to happen.

For the past five days, Jungkook and Taehyung have been trying to find anything about missing couples and mysterious disappearances, but it’s been in vain. There’s absolutely nothing. Thirty years ago, nothing special happened.

However, Jungkook asked Sungmin, Taehyung’s uncle to meet. Records are one thing, but Jungkook knows better than anyone that there might have been something off records that happened. Some secrets are kept hidden, locked away in the minds of those who lived them.

“Thanks for having me, Mister Song,” Jungkook says as he enters Sungmin’s house.

“I couldn’t refuse my king’s visit,” he replies with a warm smile.

Many people believe that the Alphas of every pack refuse the authority of a king, but those closest to the throne are often the first to kneel. For sure, Jungkook’s natural leadership certainly helps. However, the truth is that the werewolf hierarchy isn’t just a tradition; it’s more than that. Every werewolf deeply holds onto it.

“I could say that I’m surprised, but it’d be a lie,” he admits while he guides Jungkook towards the terrace. “I was expecting it after Tae’s request.”

“I imagine,” Jungkook responds.

The covered terrace is a serene and private space. Jungkook’s eyes quickly scan the surroundings. It’s a little but pretty space. Plates, cups, and a selection of biscuits are neatly arranged on the modest wooden table.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Sungmin gestures for Jungkook to sit.

“A coffee would be fine,” Jungkook answers.

The man takes one of the porcelain carafes on the table and carefully pours the drink into a cup, placing it in front of Jungkook.

“I was originally looking for a couple’s death or disappearances in your pack, but I couldn’t find anything documented,” Jungkook is straightforward.

Sungmin nods thoughtfully. “When do you believe this event happened?”

“Around thirty years ago,” he says.

Tae’s uncle freezes for a brief moment at his answers. His eyes flicker with something that Jungkook recognizes instantly: recognition mixed with hesitation. This is it. This might be the key to understanding your past.

“Something did happen thirty years ago,” Sungmin admits. “But we didn’t keep any trace of it out of respect to the family concerned.”

Jungkook is definitely very intrigued about this.

“The eldest daughter of an estimated member of our pack fell in love with a human. Despite our objections, she decided to run away with him. We all knew why,” he shakes his head as he remembers the sad story. “She was pregnant with that human child.”

The werewolf king listens patiently, absorbing every word.

“We didn’t inform your father immediately as we thought we could handle it ourselves. Involving the king into this would have drawn unwanted attention to this. For us, Shadows, discretion is everything.”

Jungkook nods, knowing perfectly the Shadow’s reputation. They are the ghosts of the werewolf world, unseen and often unheard, but fiercely loyal and deadly when necessary. The Shadows blend into their surroundings, disappearing when needed.

“We looked for them for years but couldn’t find them,” he seems really affected as he recalls what happened. “They were clever. They stayed hidden, and after nine years, we had no choice but to involve your father.”

Jungkook nods, understanding that after all that time, it’s normal to be reaching out to the king. “And he found them.”

Sungmin sighs deeply. “Yes. Your father had better resources than us. Within a year, he found them. Thankfully, this stayed between us and the king. He let us deal with this internally,” he explains.

The air feels heavier now, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on the two men.

“They were living in a totally different city. And they had indeed a child. A ten-year-old kid…”

Jungkook notices how hard it is for Sungmin to remember this terrible event.

“It was very hard to end their lives, but we had to. The woman, her human mate, the kid, the life they had built… all of it was extinguished.”

Sungmin pauses, his throat tightening. For a moment, Jungkook sees the weight of guilt appearing on the older Alpha’s face.

“Killing a child was way too hard, but hybrids are forbidden. A child of two worlds, carrying both human and werewolf blood could destabilize everything. We told ourselves it was necessary.”

Jungkook grips the edge of his coffee cup, his jaw clenched. The thought of such a decision sits uneasily within him. He’s not sure he would have had the strength to do that. It is one thing to terminate a pregnancy, but killing a ten-year-old child is totally another story.

“Did anyone else know about this? Anyone outside the pack?”

“No, only your father, and now you.”

“Do you think it’s possible that the child survived?” Jungkook asks, his voice steady but intense.

Sungmin looks directly into his king’s eyes. “We are certain they didn’t.”

Jungkook leans back in the chair, his mind racing. If the child had somehow survived, if they had slipped through the cracks of fate, then everything changes. And if that child was you… He shakes his head, not sure that it’s possible.

“Thank you, Mister Song. This has been illuminating.”

Jungkook steps away, his heart beating fast. There are too many resemblances between this story and your story.

To yn: hi yn, could we meet tonight or tomorrow?

Barely a minute later he receives an answer.

From yn: hi Jungkook, tonight is fine. Same place as last time?

To yn: sure

As you’re walking towards the location you agreed with Jungkook, you try to understand the reason behind his sudden need to talk to you. This is unexpected for you, so it definitely makes you nervous. Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind about the baby? Is he going to pressure you to abort considering the hybrid situation? Or even worse, has something happened? Your mind races through every possibility.

“Calm down, yn,” you mumble to yourself.

You take a deep breath, your eyes closing for a brief moment. The beating of your heart drums in your ears, and slowly, you can hear it calming down. You can’t start overthinking before you even get to listen to what Jungkook wants to tell you. Maybe it’s nothing serious or something you have to really worry about.

When you arrive, you notice you’re the first one; Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet. So, you decide to sit on the closest bench. You look at the passersby walking around you with ‘Tití Me Perguntó’ from Bad Bunny playing in your headphones. It’s one of your favorite songs.

After a couple of minutes, you feel Jungkook’s presence. Your eyes stare at the surroundings to check if he’s indeed nearby. Your senses are right, you see a man walking in your direction. Even when he walks, he has such an imposing posture.

This presence feeling grows stronger as he gets closer to you, and you can’t seem to look away, as if your eyes are glued on him. Weird things have been happening with Jungkook since you’ve met him, and you can’t quite explain them.

Once he’s in front of you, you stand up, a smile naturally growing on your face. He’s incredibly handsome and charming. Once again, he has opted for a casual look: a white shirt layered under a leather jacket completed with loose, brown suede-like pants.

His strong presence near you soothes you in a way you never experienced before. All the nervousness you were feeling minutes ago is completely washed away. His strong and bestial scent fills the air and calms down your racing thoughts.

For a moment, you remain in silence, but it isn’t an awkward one. It’s actually quite the opposite. His gaze holds yours, and the intensity of his eyes draws you even more. It feels like none of you needs to speak. It is as if the two of you are communicating on a deeper level that doesn’t need language.

“Hi,” you break the silence.

“Hey, yn,” he takes a step closer.

By the way he approaches you, you sense he’s about to hug you or something similar. You prepare yourself for such, but he ends up not doing it. Jungkook just stands there, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“How have you been feeling?” he asks with evident concern in his voice.

As always, being around him comforts you. It makes you feel like you don’t need to hold anything back. There’s no need to hide your thoughts and feelings behind a mask. You can be entirely honest, saying what you truly feel without the fear of being judged. It’s part of the weird things you’ve been experiencing with Jungkook. It’s something you never felt with anyone else, not even an ex. This makes you wonder just how much this connection truly means.

“Very much torn apart by the decision I need to make,” you admit.

“Have you already considered one of them?” he questions.

You decide to sit down on the bench, your hands rubbing your face. Should you be telling him that you’re very much inclined to keep the baby? Isn’t it better if he doesn’t know anything? In any case, he won’t be around anymore. He said he’d walk away.

“I’ve kind of made a decision,” you try to be as vague as possible.

Jungkook takes a seat next to you. This time around, he doesn’t seem to try to look away from you. His deep dark orbs stare straight into your eyes. As usual, he’s pretty much unreadable, but he has that soft expression on his face. It almost looks like he truly cares and worries about you.

“In case you…” he seems to hesitate, but he doesn’t look away. “If you keep the baby,” he continues, and your heart starts hammering in your chest. “I think I won’t be able to step away.”

You close your eyes while taking a deep breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to be feeling right now.

“I thought stepping away was the right decision,” he starts explaining. “Every time I tried to pull back, I find myself being drawn to you… to our child.”

The word ‘our child’ sends shivers down your spine.

“I can’t turn my back on this—not on you, not on them.”

As he says those words, his eyes look down at your stomach, where a precious life is growing. Even though your eyes are closed, you can feel his gaze on you. You can feel it on your baby. You can simply feel Jungkook. His entire being calls for you, and your body responds to it by being completely drawn to him.

“Why now?” your voice trembles as your eyes open to look at him. “What has changed?”

This doesn’t make any sense. Almost a month ago, he told you that he couldn’t father this child because you aren’t a werewolf, and that this child's existence is completely forbidden. Things are still the same, nothing has changed since then.

“You said you couldn’t have this child because of the whole werewolf thing,” your voice tone is slowly getting higher.

Jungkook’s face now seems to soften and it looks like he carries an emotional weight. There is definitely something going on that you can’t quite explain. And it’s scaring you.

“I think…” he runs his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you’ve started to recognize. “You’re not just a woman carrying my child,” he seems to struggle to express what’s inside his mind. “I think you might be one of us.”

His words hand in the air, your entire body freezing. For a moment, it feels like the world completely stopped moving. You blink at him, trying to process the enormity of what he just said. At this stage it feels like, Jungkook likes to make cruel jokes. First, it’s the werewolf world, and now, it’s this. How on earth can you be a werewolf? It’s simply impossible. If that was the case, you would have already turned or something like that.

“What are you talking about?” the sharpness of your voice even surprises you.

Anger grows inside you, but it masks the deeper emotion of fear that you can feel. Your heart starts pounding erratically in your chest as the air grows heavier. How dare he? How dare he turn your world upside down with this unbelievable claim? You stand up, trying to calm yourself down.

“That’s impossible,” you say with a trembling voice.

You rest a hand on top of your heart, trying to anchor yourself, but the panic bubbling beneath your surface is relentless. The thought of upsetting the baby crosses your mind, but it doesn’t help to calm you.

Jungkook stands as well, hands raising as if he’s about to reassure you, but as he does so, he watches you disappear before his eyes.

“It’s incredible,” he whispers to himself.

Now, he has solid proof that you’re indeed a werewolf, a member of the Shadow pack.

“Yn, listen to me.”

“No, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “I am not a werewolf. That’s ridiculous. If I were one, I would have transformed or something like that.”

“Maybe,” he says quietly. “But you didn’t know you were one so things might work differently in that case.”

“Stop!” you scream. “Just stop. Do you even hear yourself? Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

Jungkook stands there, looking somewhere, but he doesn’t even know where you are.

“Take your phone, yn,” he tells you.

“What?” you say with evident surprise, and your anger turns into confusion.

“Just take your phone,” he repeats, his tone calm but firm.

Still breathing heavily and with shaky hands, you look for your phone in your purse. You’re not sure why he’s saying that or what to expect when you look at your phone.

“Now, pretend like you’ll take a selfie.”

As you look at him, there is something in his expression that compels you to obey. Slowly you lift your phone, positioning it in front of your face. The moment your screen comes into view, your breath catches in your throat. Your reflection is completely gone.

Your mind struggles to understand what is going on. The town square is visible in the background, clear as day, but your face is missing. It’s as though you’ve been erased from existence.

“What is happening?” you almost scream. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

Your gaze remains glued to the phone, your hand trembling so much that the image blurs. You’re gone. Completely gone. Your hand instinctively goes to your face, touching your skin as though it might bring you back into view. But when you glance at the screen again, even your hand remains invisible. This can’t be true. How can you even disappear? How is that possible?

“It’s not sorcery,” he calmly replies. “It’s you. It’s your nature. Only a werewolf can do that.”

“No! That’s not true. That’s not who I am. I’m human. I’ve always been human,” you shake your head before putting your phone back in your purse. “But I’m carrying your child so that must be it.”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“That’s not how it works, yn. I swear,” he’s trying to look for you, so it makes him look like a crazy man. “Pregnancies only bring out even more any abilities someone has,” he explains. “This pregnancy is simply revealing your true nature.”

Tears stream down your face while your heart hurts.

“Have you been experiencing some weird stuff lately?” he says. “Like heightened hearing or smell or night vision or superhuman strength or even super speed.”

Then, your body freezes once more.

“No,” you answer, and for a moment, you hesitate to reveal the truth. “But I’ve always had heightened hearing and smell, and I perfectly see in the dark.”

This all confirms what he says. You’re a werewolf.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you add. “I can hear everybody's heartbeats, even the baby’s.”

You close your eyes, the truth violently hitting you. All this time you’ve been a werewolf, and nobody told you anything. You’re not sure Felix knows it, but it hurts to realize that your parents hid something so big from you. It’s your nature after all.

“You have your answer, yn,” he responds.

Now, you’re crying because the world is collapsing underneath your feet. Your life has been filled with lies, and you’re only discovering this now. It hurts even more that it’s the father of your child who’s revealing this and not your parents.

Jungkook follows the sound of your tears to come closer. You fall in his arms, holding him as tight as possible. He tries to hold you back in his arms, but he doesn’t see you at all. The only thing that can make you reappear is for you to relax. Your emotions are the keys to your powers.

“Focus on the baby’s heartbeat,” he murmurs in your ear. “Focus only on that.”

While tears keep running down your face, you try to search for your baby’s heartbeat. It’s super faint, but you quickly find it. This little sound has rocked you to sleep so many times, and it’s one of the most comforting sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Tudum, Tudum, Tudum,” Jungkook starts mimicking the sound of the baby’s beat.

You close your eyes to only focus on that sound. Slowly but surely, you reappear which reassures Jungkook, and he holds you tighter in his arms. His warm embrace and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat calm you down. He presses a gentle kiss on your head while his hands start to soothe your back. Seeing you like this is heartbreaking, and he hates the fact that he was the one delivering this news.

For a little while, you both remain like this, and his arms feel like the safest place on earth. Even if you hate this entire situation, his presence reassures you. Everything about this moment right now appeases your soul. There is absolutely no doubt that the reality you now have to face is devastating, but you feel like you’ll have Jungkook by your side. And strangely, it seems like it’s the only thing that you need.

Today was a hell of a day!

Everything was simply awful, and it felt like it was a never-ending day. Your mind was constantly thinking about the words Jungkook said. ‘I think you might be one of us.’ You swear you could hear them on repeat all day long.

Due to how you’ve been feeling, you’ve left everybody on read—even Jungkook. Dealing with this strange reality is too heavy, and you need space. You need some time to digest the news. You need time to simply breathe.

Once you’re at home, you wrap yourself in your Harry Potter robe, lay on the couch, and play the first Harry Potter movie. Right now, all you need is to find comfort in something, and Harry Potter is your escape.

Although the movie is playing in the background, you’re not really watching it. Your thoughts are totally lost somewhere else, somewhere that includes werewolves. You can’t believe that this is your new reality. It hurts deeply that your parents never said anything to you. How could they keep something so monumental from you? Were they intending to let this part of themselves, this part of you die in silence?

Things would have been completely different if they had informed you about that side of you. Maybe you would have sought answers earlier. Maybe you would have explored what it means to carry this legacy. There is a whole culture, heritage, and part of yourself that you’ve missed out on for thirty years. And what hurts the most is that you hate your parents right now. For years, you’ve been hating your parents’ murderer, and now, the tables have turned.

You hate them for what they withheld, for what they never gave you a chance to understand.

This whole journey of becoming a mom has been a complete nightmare. This hasn’t been going as planned. This has been anything but easy. And now, it leaves you wondering if you should really keep the baby. Maybe, you should simply terminate the pregnancy and leave this all behind. But will this be so simple? Obviously, not.

Terminating the pregnancy won’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that Jungkook came into your life to completely wreck your world. Cutting short the life growing inside you will probably just make you feel guilty for doing it. Jungkook won’t disappear, and neither will your wolf side.

This isn’t fair.

Fairness has never been part of your life. It feels like your life has always been robbed. Everybody has been controlling it, making you feel completely powerless all the time. This pregnancy was about gaining control again, but even like that, it wasn’t. A big part of you wants to keep this baby, and you’re very much inclined to keep them. But you don’t know. Jungkook’s revelation still needs to be processed.

“What am I going to do, baby?” you whisper as your hands naturally caress your stomach.

In the end, this baby isn’t a hybrid one. They’re fully a werewolf. You can understand why Jungkook changed his mind. He didn’t want the child because he believed it was a hybrid, something completely forbidden in his world. But now that it’s not the case, he wants to be part of his child's life, if you keep it.

It makes perfect sense, but the hurt remains. He gets what he wants, doesn’t he? The chance to raise his child. But what about you? What about what you want?

“You’re a wolfy,” you continue saying. “So, your daddy wants you now.”

However, if you keep this child, you’ll have to teach them what it means to be a werewolf. You’ll have to guide and prepare them for a life you know nothing about. You’ll have to learn everything with them; every instinct, every tradition, and every secret. You’ll develop your wolf’s abilities together. This life inside you isn’t just a new life; it’s a symbol of your own transformation. This child represents the end of your human life and the beginning of something different.

Are you ready for that?

You’re not sure. You’re not sure if you want to embark on this new journey. A journey where you figure out who and what you are. A journey where you’ll have to dig into your parents’ past. A journey where you’ll have to face your ghosts. A journey where you might find all the answers you’ve always desired to have.

Jungkook seems to hold the key to all of that. The truth, the answers, and the future. You need him, more than you want to admit. He’s the only werewolf you know, and he might as well be your guide on this.

Even if everything scares you, this is what will help you to figure out what happened to your parents twenty years ago. This is the key to finally getting to truly know them. This hasn’t been going as you planned it, but it has been going the way you need it.

For now, you’re simply going to enjoy this comforting and reassuring movie before truly facing this new reality of yours. Tonight is your last night as a human, and tomorrow, you’ll start to understand what it means to be a werewolf.

For the millionth time, you check that your apartment is perfectly cleaned and tidied. Jungkook is coming tonight; you’ve invited him over to discuss this werewolf thing. You’re incredibly nervous as you’re very scared of how things could go. Are you going to learn some unpleasant truths about your lineage?

Also, you can’t forget to tell him you have your first ultrasound tomorrow. He’ll probably want to come as he’s expressed his change of mind concerning this child. Your child. Instinctively your hand cradles your stomach.

Before the doorbell echoes in your apartment, you sense Jungkook’s presence behind the door. This thing of sensing him is definitely extremely weird, and you’re not even sure you’ll get used to it. But you guess, it’s part of being a werewolf.

You take a deep breath while opening the door to him. As he comes into view, his beauty takes your breath away. His hair is perfectly pushed back, only a strand of hair falling on his forehead. This time around, he’s dressed in a more formal outfit. Like the first time you met him at the clinic, he’s wearing a suit. Only this time, it’s a dark blue one.

And it fits him so well.

A smile grows on his face when his eyes lay on you. It warms your heart, and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Hi, yn,” he says.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you reply. “Come on in,” you take a step back to let him in.

Jungkook steps into your cocoon, his gaze briefly wandering at the entrance. With practiced ease, he shrugs off his long black coat, the movement accentuating the subtle play of his muscles. Your curious eyes can’t help but follow the way his shoulders shift and his arms flex as he removes his coat and slips off his shoes.

A little grin shows up when he realizes you’ve been staring at him. However, you both pretend you didn’t notice what the other was doing. It’s like you’re pretending you don’t feel drawn to each other.

“Would you like to drink or eat something?” you politely ask.

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “I’ve already eaten and drank enough for today,” a little giggle escapes his pretty lips. “I had a long and exhausting meeting this afternoon.”

“Oh,” you simply say. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to eat a bit because I’m quite hungry.”

His eyes inevitably look down at your stomach, the sound of the child’s heartbeat resonating in his ears. It’s such a comforting sound.

“No,” he answers. “Eat as much as you want.”

You drag him to the kitchen so you can eat something while you discuss about the madness that your life has become. You open the cabinets to check what you have, but then, you remember you bought your favorite yogurt two days ago. Without no further hesitation, you move to the fridge, grab it together with a spoon, and start eating it.

While you do that, Jungkook’s eyes are glued on you. His stare carefully follows you as you move through the kitchen. Honestly, he’s glad to be here with you; he finally gets to see you in your comfort zone, and you definitely seem to be glowing in this place.

“Can I ask you what you do for a living?” you ask while bringing the spoon to your mouth.

His eyes follow your hand before looking up. He leans on the cabinets while never looking away from you. Jungkook crosses his arms on his chest and heavily considers what to tell you.

“Well…” he seems hesitant to reveal it. “I’m not sure you’re going to believe me.”

You tilt your head, wondering what it could be. Is he working with the mafia like you thought before he announced his wolfy side? Or is he some kind of criminal? Or is it the opposite, like a doctor?

“Try me,” you tease him.

Jungkook didn’t know up until now how much he needed to hear the teasing tone in your voice.

His eyes never cease to follow your hand’s movements with the spoon. It’s mesmerizing, holding him captive as if he’s unable to look away. The way your lips wrap around the spoon sends shivers down his spine. Jungkook shakes his head, pushing away those weird thoughts. It’s inappropriate.

“I’m a king,” his tone is firm, leaving no room for doubts.

You almost choke with the spoon in your mouth. Of all the jobs you considered, this one definitely wasn’t on the list. This is beyond unexpected and by the way he looks, you know that he isn’t joking. You’ve seen his serious face so many times now, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“A king?” you repeat to make sure you heard it right.

Jungkook nods, and then, you can’t unsee it. This entire outfit breathes power—and money—, his charisma is beyond magnetic, and he has a strong presence. Let’s not forget about the unreadable face he always has on. There is definitely something royal about him, and he definitely looks like a king.

“That makes the child in my belly a future king or queen then?” you ask half-jokingly.

“Yep,” he answers. “And as a king, I’m expected to give the perfect heir, so the hybrid child wasn’t really one.”

When he explained the situation a month ago, everything made sense, but now it makes even more sense. This child carries royal blood.

“I’m not carrying anyone’s kid,” you playfully say. “A king,” you whisper.

This definitely changes your view of the situation. Now that he wants this child, it makes them the heir to the werewolf throne. The baby growing inside you will one day be a king or a queen. It makes you feel important but scared as well.

“It’s crazy,” you look up at him while bringing the spoon to your mouth once more.

Right there and then, your heart skips a beat when you realize the way he’s looking at you, or should you say, the way his eyes are devouring you. You can’t remember the last time someone looked at you in that way.

“It is,” he admits.

“And what does a werewolf king do exactly?” you curiously ask.

“Many things,” he smiles at you. “I’m the supreme leader of the packs which makes me the bridge between them. If any issue arises between them, I have to resolve them and also make sure the werewolves follow the rules. I’m also their protector. I must ensure the laws are respected and nobody reveals our secrets. And do many other things, but those are the most important ones.”

You nod, wondering if these responsibilities aren’t too much of a burden for him. It mustn’t be easy to be the one making decisions, and it definitely sounds like the entire werewolf world relies on him.

“And you?” he asks. “What do you do?”

A bright smile appears on your face. “I’m an Elementary teacher.”

Thinking about the little kids you see every day simply makes you happy. Being able to give those little humans the tools they need to grow in this world is one of the most fulfilling things. This job has been healing your inner child because teaching those young children has allowed you to guide and give them a stability you never had in your childhood.

“Oh, nice,” he says.

The yogurt is now over so you suggest going to the living room. This way, you’ll be sitting comfortably on the couch while discussing the hot topic. Werewolves.

Last night, while in bed, you were mentally going through all the questions you might have for him. There is so much for you to know about this new world, this new heritage. For sure, last night, you didn’t know he was a king, but now that you do, you believe that he might help you a lot more than expected.

Jungkook sits down next to you, and you decide to face each other.

“So,” you start saying. “I guess you can imagine why I invited you.”

The man sitting next to you nods. “Your wolf blood.”

“Indeed,” you nod as you speak. “I have a lot of questions.”

You don’t even know where to start.

“You said there are packs,” you begin. “Would you know to which pack I belong?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “The Shadow pack,” he pauses for a couple of seconds. “Each pack has a wolf eye color. Mine is red as you’ve already seen, which indicates that I’m the king and member of The Blood pack. The Shadow’s eye color is blue, and for the third and last pack, The Lunar, it’s white,” he explains. “A week ago, I saw your eyes turning blue, that’s how I discovered it.”

The Shadow, The Blood, and The Lunar. Three packs. You mentally register the information he gives you. There is so much to discover about this new reality.

“The Shadows also have unique abilities, one of them being the fact that they can blur into their surroundings.”

That’s what happened to you two days ago after he revealed your true nature. It was just the confirmation of who you are.

“As far as I can remember, I’ve only had heightened senses, but I never came to shift into a wolf. How is that possible?”

“That is something I ignore,” he admits. “You’re the first werewolf who didn’t grow up with her pack’s member. My first guess is the ignorance of your nature prevented it from fully revealing itself.”

You look down at your feet on the couch. It seems so weird that only a part of your abilities has revealed itself throughout your life.

“I’ve tried to find something about you, but I couldn’t,” he admits. “I even reached out to an Alpha of the pack, but nothing.”

“Oh,” you simply say, your eyes meeting his. “Do you think I could meet that Alpha?”

“Yes,” he smiles at you. “I’m sure he’d be happy to meet you, and he might probably help you more than me with your past and even your abilities.”

Jungkook then proceeds to explain how the werewolf world works. There is a hierarchy. Alpha, Beta, Delta, and Omega. Alpha being the highest rank, and you only achieve it once you fully master your powers. Logically, you’re an Omega as you barely know what you can do. Jungkook is an Alpha which makes sense since he’s a king.

If you keep the baby, they will automatically become an Alpha when they become king or queen. Things work a bit differently for the royal family.

Normally, a werewolf experiences their first shift on the first full moon of their fourteenth anniversary. The difference with the royal family is the fact that they experience that at ten years old. It’s quite early in life, but that allows them to master their abilities a lot earlier than any other werewolf.

Obviously, the parents and the family remain by your side throughout your first full moon. They guide you through the pain when transforming, and they stay with you while you’re a wolf. Jungkook tells you that the first transformation is very hard to handle. The pain is unbearable and once you’re a wolf, all your human senses disappear. You’re just a beast. A hunting beast. Having your family by your side prevents you from killing anyone or anything. Slowly and with a lot of work, you are able to control that primal urge.

The question left hanging is when and if you’ll transform. If this pregnancy brings out your wolf blood, there are higher chances that you’ll experience your first full moon. But Jungkook doesn’t have an answer to give.

Then, he informs you that you can’t transform someone by biting them, that’s an absolute myth. Being a werewolf is genetic. You inherit it from your parents, and you’ll give that gene to your children. Thus, the importance of maintaining pure blood.

“For now, I guess that’s all,” you tell him once you’ve asked all the questions.

“Since the next full moon is in two days, I’d like to be with you in case you transform,” he says.

Well, you don’t have much of a choice. There’s this unknown about you, and you wouldn’t like to be alone during your first full moon, especially if it’s painful and bestial.

“Thanks,” you mumble while looking down.

Jungkook offers you a little smile.

“I’m by your side now, yn,” he places his fingers under your chin to slowly lift your head. “I won’t let you navigate this alone.”

His eyes shine with sincerity. You’re thankful that, in the middle of this chaos, you found Jungkook. This man brings so much comfort and seems to have one of the prettiest hearts you have encountered.

“And I’ll support you no matter what you decide with the baby,” he adds.

You remain in silence for a moment, your eyes scanning his soft face. You’ve never seen him this close. You’ve never noticed that little mole under his lips, or the little scar on his cheek, or how perfectly round his nose is. He looks even prettier this closely.

The decision about your child has already been made, but you haven’t said it out loud yet. Jungkook will be the first one to know, and it makes sense since he’s the father.

“I’m going to keep the baby,” you reveal.

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