#yoonkook angst

[colormepurplex2]

As Fate Would Have It | MYG JJK

▻ As Fate Would Have It ↳ Producer!Yoongi x Bartender&TattooApprentice!Jungkook ⤜ Reincarnation/Soulmates AU ⤜ Strangers to Lovers | smut, mild fluff, angst ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 15,436 ⤜ Summary: Jungkook is only trying to get by, and Yoongi just so happens to be in the right place at the right time. Some call it luck; others might call it coincidence. But, as fate would have it…it’s an inevitable meeting of burning hearts that’s a thousand years in the making. ⚠️ Crass language, drinking, smoking, vaginal sex, anal sex (mm), almost-blowjob, cum licking, thoughts of masturbation, kissing, anal fingering, full blow job, cum swallowing, dick stroking, mild begging

Chapter 1: 'Kismet' My Ass

Chapter 2: A Thousand Lifetimes & It's Always You

This story is complete.

A/N: This is for the extrodiary @downbad4yoongi. Thank you for trusting me with your wants and desires. Congrats on your win last award season 💜 I hope you enjoy this Yoonkook treat!

A/N: A special thank you to @star-my @lo1k-diamonds @peachiilovesot7 and @lunarelle1013 for their unfailing beta services during various stages of this project!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2024-07  ColorMePurplex2

[yoonki-boonki]

Love went by my door (its never been this close before)

Rating : mature

Pairing : Yoongi x Jungkook

Tags : age gap, slow burn, mutual pinning, consensual kink

3RD CHAPTER IS OUT NOW ! AO3 (link)

Summary :

"My boyfriend broke up with me because he wants to see other people, and now my phone ran out of battery. It's Beach House o'clock. I don't think it can get much worse. I'm never gonna be happy again."

The boy raises his head, finds Yoongi, and Yoongi swallows down at least three million ant-sized desires. In the night light, the boy's young and gorgeous, and dishevelled, various emotions painting his face, switching from one to another. He's practically edible.

[moccahobi]

Tangled Mess: Game Night 1

Summary: yoongi is stuck in his thoughts during a game night, trying hard not to fall in love

Paring: Hoseok x GN Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook

Genre: Soulmate AU, Grad School AU, Young Professional AU, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: A Breakup

Word Count: 498 words

Part 1 << lMasterlist >> Next Part

Yoongi looks on as Jungkook pushes against Y/n, the two locked in an intense mario kart game that will determine who gets to challenge Seokjin in the finale. He doesn’t know how this even happened. One minute, Hoseok was talking about meeting someone new who needed support and the next there was a new person being invited to their weekly game nights.

Which started because Yoongi was too damn shy to answer the silent question Jungkook asked when talking about going to a gaming cafe together. 

Yoongi knew that Jungkook was trying to ask Yoongi on a date, but Yoongi couldn’t cross that boundary. It was too big, a large insurmountable mountain that Yoongi was content looking up at and imagining a life where he was on the top. So instead Yoongi excitedly said yes and talked about inviting Taehyung and Seokjin who were also big gamers. 

The next day Jieun and Hoseok feigned upset at not being invited and another game night was planned at Jieun’s place. 

And in turn Namjoon and Jimin decided that they needed to be invited too and all the sudden it was a regular thing and people brought all different types of games to play. Some nights, ten people jammed into Jieun’s apartment all crowded around different games and talking philosophy. 

Now it was eleven people who are always invited to the game nights. Jungkook decided that for Y/n, he saw their gloomy exterior break into a smile once and decided that there would be a friendship and that Y/n was his child. It totally didn’t make Yoongi fall in love with Jungkook just a bit more. 

Nor did Jungkook sitting them down after he pulled them into a welcoming hug to talk about how competitive everyone here was and how sometimes they could get rough. It was a little silly to see him lecture Y/n on boundary settings and ask what they were comfortable with after he just hugged them without asking, but that just made Yoongi like him more, as a friend. Jungkook had done that to Yoongi after he’d pushed the poor man away during the hug. Soon after, Yoongi found himself never getting any affection unless he initiated it. It was a barrier that Yoongi didn’t know how to feel about. 

Tonight, Yoongi didn’t have energy or drive to compete in games and found himself sitting on the couch with Namjoon and Minseo (Namjoon’s current boyfriend). They were talking about the state of the world and how they navigate the grueling capitalistic system. 

Truly the perfect (worst) conversation to have to unwind after a day in said grueling capitalistic system. Especially as the two canoodled in between points and kissed each other when they said something “prophetic” or smart. It felt nice to be a third wheel, to be reminded in such an explicit and visible way that he was not in a relationship and could not get the same things. 

Yoongi needed it.

[sglossmin]

Muse | MYG

Plot: What happens when the man you practically simp over in high school, is right now, sitting across you after almost 10 years of not seeing him? Worse? You're here for an appointment for therapy and he's your psychologist.

Available on WATTPAD (click here)

Pairing: SeniorStudent!Yoongi x JuniorStudent!Reader ---> Psychologist! Yoongi x Artist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, slight age gap, slice of life, a bit of angst, schoolmates to lovers(?)

This is a work of fiction. Events, characters, and depictions are entirely imagined and do not represent the real-life actions or personalities of any real individuals, including the idols mentioned.

Warnings: talks about mental and death...erm lemme know if you found any disturbing heh

Word count: dunno

A/N: This is...actually some sort of based irl looll (only the high school scenes, most of it) This is my first one shot work! Let me know if I'm lacking something. The current series that I'm still working rn is still not even half finished T_T T_T So I thought I might give it a try---write a oneshot heh I just started here to write in tumblr so I still don't know that much stuff. Feel free to comment so I can improve!! Ik some of those thing weren't even a thing at that time...

"Shit..." I muttered right as I saw the man in a white coat, a clipboard in his arms while his hair softly falls down in his brows, reading his next patient's data. Just like the last time I saw him. Weird, huh? It's been years, yet... he still looks just the same.

Our eyes met, for the first time in a while. He frowned, it was so subtle and fast, no one would even know. But I did. Every little actions that he did, I always notice it. No matter what. I keep saying that the Y/n who just hit her puberty is no longer me, yet with my emotions right now, I can feel like my hormones are all over the place.

"Sit down," he smiled, gesturing the seat across him.

His voice so deep it sounds like soothing lullaby... Eyes so tired that I can tell he works so well... The warmth in his smile makes my heart skip a beat, forgetting why am I here in the first place...

Snap of it!

It took me a second to realize that I stared at him for too long. I cleared my throat, wishing my embarrassment would also go away. I smiled as I took the seat.

Our session ended without him saying that he at least recognize me. Did it made me upset? Yeah... sort of. I mean, I didn't go there and paid him to reminisce our high school days, but still...

I huffed as I crumpled a paper.

"Ugh! Really? Y/n? Still drawing him?"

I uncrumpled it and stared at the newly drawing for a while. I leaned back in my chair and sighed... "I'll give it to him. He looks hot in that coat." I chuckled and stuck the paper back in my notebook. "I'm keeping it because I drew him too good, not that I still like him or anything. That would be just so stupid."

Ha! Right! Nothing else. I smiled, pleased with how I gaslight myself.

I stretched my back and arms. My body ached for having a shrimp position for a long time.

And before I know it, I fell asleep (again) in my studio.

Summer 2010

Our last subject just finished and it's still raining heavily. I have no umbrella so my friends and I were forced to run. Reaching the covered court, I groaned. "Why call it summer when it rains this heavy??"

"Do they really think—us—high school students are waterproof?" Exclaimed by Sana while Chaeyoung just chuckled beside us. Our clothes were pretty wet but not that drenched.

We went upstage since there's some chair in there. Putting our bags down, we wait for the rain to stop. Us juniors only have to spend half day in the campus. Lucky, huh?

"Stay here, hm? You both can't leave me just because you guys have umbrella to share and your house are close." I glared at the both of them while they just snickered. They won't leave me otherwise, I know that.

It's been an hour, yet the rain don't seem to plan on stopping. It's about 1 now, we think. Seems like we're the only junior students in the campus. Suddenly, the seniors from the front building went outside. They went in the cover court. They were wearing some sort of costumes. It was ridiculous—Okay, not really. They seemed like they're going to dance.

We sat still from above across them and watch them prepare.

"Hey, Chae, wanna play?" I grinned as I whispered. Sana was too occupied with her phone that's why it was just the two of us who played.

We played Smash or Pass with every senior guy that I pointed. Until finally, I pointed it to the guy who's wearing a Thai hat(?) The gold ones, it seems like part of their costume.

"Hm... Smash!" Chaeyoung laughed and I did too. Cause miraculously, SAME.

We had a great laugh realizing we'd say smash.

We watched them dance and sing along with the music that were playing. Thinking about it, we might actually look like idiots. They can practically see us sing and dance with them since we're upstage.

After a while, I asked Chae, "What nickname should we give him?" It's our thing. Giving nicknames to people whether they look good or annoying. I think it's every friend groups should do.

"He looks like a cat and his eyes disappear too when he smiles... Kitty?"

"Kitty...?" Sounds weird so I proposed to change it. "What about Neko? Same meaning but doesn't sound weird." She agreed and since then, we called him Neko. With his sharp eyes and pale tone, he does looks like a kitty.

Few moments after, we planned a scheme. We went down to compare our height to his. We walked towards him as if we were just passing by and about to go to the canteen instead.

My and Chae's eyes went wide open. Gasping and staring at each other, the signal were sent.

Gosh, he's tall.

Oh gosh, he is.

A day or two passed since that. We randomly saw him when we went to buy in the canteen.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

Untill a few days have been passed and I keep on seeing him. To the point that... maybe... just maybe, it wasn't really a coincidence anymore.

New character unlocked?

When we were about to go back in our room, we met Hani. My bestfriend in elementary days.

"Y/n! Come here! Imma show you something. Actually—no—It's a someone." Hani dragged me and Chae went along with me.

Hani rant about how this guy looks so good, that in the first time in a while, they found someone who actually looks good in this campus.

Chae and I eyed each other. Were we thinking who we're thinking?

As we reached the third floor of the first year's building, across it was the senior's building. We stopped our track right in front of the exact room. The windows were open and from our spot, we can literally see him studying.

"Neko?"

"You know him?" Hani asked in which I nod.

I think we just found our sweet spot.

Chae and I sometimes went up there just to catch a glimpse of him. It was stupid and fun.

Until that day came.

As usual, Chae and I went to the third floor once again. We stayed in the balcony that faces their room. It was break time so everyone was all over the place. Then I felt it. Chae poked my side and pointed my front. I frowned and followed her finger. There was it, his teacher raising her brow at me. Then his classmates turned their heads toward me... 'till lastly, he did. Everyone was looking at ME. I noticed Chae was hiding on the wall divider of the balcony. I looked back at the teacher who's still looking at me.

"Do you need anything, Ms?" We were quite far but it was still audible.

"H-huh..?" That was all I could muster. It was even barely a whisper. My mouth was slightly open due to not knowing what to do nor say. It lasted like that for a few more seconds. Until I mustered all the courage and pride I have left in my body and shrugged it off and walked away. Frowning as if they got it wrong and I was simply hanging out there.

Walk

Walk

RUN

I went back to our room as soon as I noticed Chae was following me. When we get back, we were panting and sweating. Our classmates looked at us with weird looks. Not that I can blame them. One of our classmate asked us and we did tell the story.

It was our last time going in there.

I felt someone flick my head. I groaned in annoyance.

"Noona, wake up!"

I grumbled as I sit up straight, realizing I fell asleep in the studio again.

"You know you don't have to flick me. Between the two of us, I'm the light sleeper." I mumbled while my eyes were focusing on the big guy in front of me.

He rolled his eyes at me. Up to this day, I wondered who did he got it from. "Eomma wants you to eat lunch with us."

I chuckled. "Your mother did? Wow, what a pleasure." I sassed.

He groaned and plopped himself at the couch. "Can't believe you still resent her."

"Kook, what kind of a daughter am I if I don't?"

Jungkook threw a pillow to me as he stood up. "Still. Eat with us."

And just like that, he walked away.

Life goes on, that's what they say.

I must've been nuts for going to therapy yesterday. It's not like, I'm seriously depressed.

Right..?

Living alone in the house that came from the paycheck of my drawings must be really the best accomplishment I've had. Who would've thought the high achieving in academics girl would end up in this job. It was pure mystery.

I stared at my empty fridge. I smiled. The only thing that kept me sane nowadays is this...

"Looks like, I need to go... shopping."

I grinned ear to ear while I spent my fortune.

"Who needs therapy, when you can go and do your grocery."

I picked out the foods I knew I'd eat while I finish the new dramas. I was about to get the last stock of my fave gummies until someone practically snatched it. Fast.

"H-hey-" I cut off myself from shouting when I realized who it was.

It was him. In normal clothes. Am I dreaming? Impossible. He wouldn't have clothes in the first place if I am.

"Oh, Ms Jeon." He smiled.

Smiled?

He has the nerve to smile after taking that gummy?

But... then again, who need those gummy bears when his gummy smile is practically the sweetest.

He cleared his throat. "Seems like we'll be seeing each other more often."

Uh...what? Is he trying to say that I have a severe mental illness so we'll literally see each other more?? This fucker...

He probably noticed my frown as he chuckled and shook his head. "Uhm, that might've come off the wrong way. I meant, I just moved in in this neighborhood."

Sorry, what..?

I laughed my nervousness away. It's not like we'll be neighbors. This neighborhood is way too big for us to see each other.

Is that why it was my first time seeing him in this grocery store?

"Well, welcome to the neighborhood." I chuckled, probably awkwardly and excused myself.

Damn it. It could've been my chance for us to talk and stuff, but I refused. I mean, with my looks right now? No thanks.

I skipped my lunch and didn't go to our family's house. I plopped myself on my bed and took out my old sketchbook.

Staring at my old drawings of him, it sure did bring back of the memories.

2010

It's been a month yet we still don't know his name. We already did a lot of different shenanigans just to know it. He must be really like having a low profile. We found his classmate's account yet his are nowhere to be found. Maybe he doesn't go online...

I was staring at my computer, scrolling on whatever stuff pop up, then it hits me. Her sister. Hani's sister!

They're in the same year, so maybe, just maybe, she knows his name.

I quickly typed in to ask her. A girl from our year had a picture with him posted. I sent it to her.

"Hi eonni, can I ask u a question? Is there a chance that you know him?"

*Photo sent*

It took a while for her to respond.

"Uhm yeah, he's from our year"

"Can you tell me his name?"

"Min Yoongi"

"I think that's his name"

Min Yoongi... cute. It suits him.

Hours and hours later, I still couldn't find his account. Then as I was searching, there was this account, he was friends with Hani.

My eyes widen. "Min Suga? Could it be?"

I stalked the account and it was really him. No wonder I couldn't find his account—he wasn't using his real name! Likes to keep a low profile? Bullshit. He has more than 5k followers!

Moreover...he really...looks good.

I wonder if his face reflects his personality.

I added him as a friend and waited for the request to be accepted. I told Chae that if he didn't accepted it within 24 hours, I'll delete my request. I still have pride you know. Don't want to be one of those girls in his inbox.

It hasn't even been an hour and I got the notification. He accepted it! I squealed and danced in my room.

This is what being a youth, right?

I clicked my tongue as I chuckled bitterly. "Youth is never coming back."

As I turn the pages more, my bell ringed. Jungkook never ring first, he just comes in whenever he wants to. I should really change the passcode. As for my mom, she never really bother coming here.

Expecting no one, I opened the door, only to gape at the man in front of me.

"You...like pies?"

Min Yoongi, in front of me, holding a pie, not just holding, but giving..?

"Uh...how close is your house exactly?" I didn't mean to sound rude, but rather genuinely curious.

He hesitatingly pointed the house across me.

The Kim's house?

"It was my friend's grandparents who lived there. He took them to take care of them and then he sold this house to me." Yoongi explained. His face going like this :]

"So you really did mean that we'll see each other more often..." I mumbled in which he caught. He laughed and gave me the pie.

"My mom kept on nagging me on giving pies. She really worked hard on it. Hope you like it!"

She's here?

I nodded and thanked him. He went back and I did too. The smell of the freshly baked peach mango pie really did things to my stomach.

For the first time, Min Yoongi gave me something.

Spring 2011

"Let's go hoomeee. Forget it! I'm not going to give it to him!" I murmured while we wait in the senior's balcony. A few steps away from him, we waited. "I knew it I shouldn't have contact him." I mumbled. "He didn't even read my text..." I mumbled. Chaeyoung was practically dragging me. "Look, he seems busy too."

"Would you rather let your drawing and efforts be wasted then?" Chayoung argued.

Then for the meantime, we waited. We walked towards his classroom but he was nowhere. He was just right there few seconds earlier.

"Stupid text."

A week ago...*

Should I really text him? The classes have been cancelled. I'm not sure whether it's a good idea to do it now. Should I make myself known? Or should I keep it anonymous? But I really wanna take a picture with him...

Ugh! My head hurts. Forget it, I'm just gonna do it.

"Hi uhm... So I just randomly draw one of my mutuals and it happened to be you.."

*Photo sent*

"Perhaps you like it?

"I was about to give you this at school tomorrow but they cancelled the classes so... Hope you like it<3

Was I too formal?

It took him hours to reply.

"Oh wow, what a nice piece!"

"Yes I like it, thanks!"

HE REPLIED!!! I muffled my squeal with my pillow as I looked back at his text. It took me hours to see the message and reply too.

"Guess... I'll just give it to you when we bump into each other, maybe(?)"

"Ugh goshhh how am I going to give you this at schoolT^T"

"Just don't give it yet if you're still not ready^^"

End*

I went home feeling defeated. Not able to give him the drawing.

I stared at my bedroom's ceiling before deciding to go online.

2+messages

It was sent an hour ago. I quickly opened the message. He replied to my text earlier in the morning, when I told him to meet up.

"Sorry, I just saw your text message"

"I don't have an internet at school, that's why"

"It's fine, so,I'll just give it to you tomorrow?"

"Okay, sure"

Saying it was fine when I was literally sulking in my room like a child. But that's when I haven't read his message.

Min Yoongi apologized to me.

I giggled like an idiot in my room as I stared at the text messages we shared.

The next day...

"AAHHHH! Let's go hoomeee. Forget it! I'm not going to give it to him!" I whined, it wasn't just Chae and Sana was there for me, but some of my classmates too. They were waiting for me—like usual, we go home altogether. "I knew it I shouldn't have contact him. This is really a stupid stupid idea!!" I ran around the court in attempt to go home.

We're here, in front of the senior's building. Waiting...again.

One of my classmate proposed that they'll just call him to go down. Two of them went upstairs to his room.

Why does he always keeping me on waiting. Does he think he's some sort of a king?

I huffed and were literally losing all my shits. Till I heard them.

"He's here!!" They squealed. Too much of an opposite, I composed myself and cleared my throat. Thank God he's tall so when I'm looking forward all I can see is his chest. I gave it to him and our hands brushed. It was so quick and subtle, yet it already made my heart warm.

As practiced, Chaeyoung smoothly asked him if we can take a picture—for business purposes. I felt too stiff. This is too good to be true. Then I felt it, he leaned closer. Our arms touching, he smiled to the pic.

My heart was about to get off my rib cage. My insides were going crazy, yet, thankfully, I look completely normal outside.

When I got home, he texted me, thanking and saying that he really appreciates it. A warm feeling spread across my whole body.

The next day, my classmates and I talked about the event yesterday. They were bitching about how Yoongi didn't even thanked me and just left. I laughed so hard when I heard that. Because he did. Yoongi did thanked me before leaving, it just happened that it was loud enough for only me to hear it. Now, it felt more special.

"Have you ever thought of the probable major reason for what you're feeling?"

Here we go again.

How can I focus on what's wrong with me, when you're right here? Worse, as my doctor.

3 more appointments with him. I paid for this, I should at least gain something.

"Maybe... because up to this day, I still blame myself for his death." My head hung low as I mumbled it.

Why do you always have to see my flaw, Min Yoongi?

This infatuation is slowly turning to hatred...

"You know it wasn't your fault."

I turned my head to him with a frown. So, he does remember me?

A tear fell from my cheek. I wiped it before he can even notice. I turned my hands into fist. 6 words. It was only 6 words yet he can already open my bare self.

"I-if I wasn't stubborn. He'd still be here. He followed me. You saw that. If only he didn't. He'd still be here."

I felt a lump in my throat. Those memories. It was too vivid as if it just happened yesterday.

Spring 2012

"I told you, I don't want to!"

Another day, another argument to have with my mother.

Why is she so pushy on making me go to states?

"It's for your own sake! Studying here at this campus will let you go nowhere."

"What? So eager to get rid of me?!" I yelled while we drive to campus.

"Jeon Y/n! Don't you dare shout at your mother." My father said sternly as he drives.

As we were near the campus, I lost it.

"Drop me off." 1.. 2.. 3... "I said, drop me off, dad." Keeping my voice low yet so stern it could cut apples.

My father stopped the car and I get out of it.

I was mindlessly crossing the road that I didn't notice a four wheeler truck coming at me.

Then I felt a pair of hands pushed me hard, and before I knew it, screams were heard. My mom's loud cries were ringing in my ears. Tears were coming out of me uncontrollably. Blood all over him. I crawled, oh so slowly and trembling. Before I could even reach him, my mom pushed me aside and called for help.

Minutes later, I heard the sirens of the ambulance. I was just there. Staring at him. No words coming out.

It started raining. It was a light rain, yet even with those subtle touch, it made my whole body flinch and freeze.

Till I felt someone's embrace. Someone was covering me with their jacket. Who could possibly care for me if it wasn't my father.

Slowly, I turned my head towards the person.

Why it has to be you?

"Everything's gonna be okay. The ambulance is taking your father already."

He spoke in a soothing tone. Yet no matter how warm or soft his voice is, I can't somehow get out the ice cage I'm in.

"Do you think your father would want you to think that way? It's been years Y/n, what happened that you're back at this again?"

part 2 read here^^

A/N: okay, I lied. Maybe this isn't gonna be a oneshot... maybe I'll have 2 parts? 3 maybe? I just cut this off here cause I think it was too long. So readers can have breaks hehe. Gonna post the next part tomorrow maybe...

Comment your @ if u guys wants to be added on the taglist^^

[keehomania]

save me (구해줘) - bae joohyun (배주현)

✧.* WC: 54.7K

✧.* SYN: you didn’t know how you ended up in the situation you found yourself in, you didn’t know when you had started loving as hard as you did, nor when she had started hating just as hard. maybe it wasn’t hate, but it wasn’t love. maybe if you were a boy, it would’ve been love.

✧.* 18+

in the quiet moments of life, when the world seemed to blur at the edges and the noise of everyday chaos faded into a distant hum, there was a time when having that one true friend felt like the most profound of blessings. it was as if the universe had conspired to place a beacon of light in the path of your journey, a steadfast flame that illuminated even the darkest of nights. not just a companion, but a reflection of the truest parts of oneself—someone who understood the unspoken language of your soul.

in her presence, there was no need for pretense. the masks worn for the world were cast aside, revealing the raw, unfiltered essence of who you were. she saw you not as a collection of faults and frailties, but as a masterpiece in progress, a soul worthy of love and respect. the beauty of her companionship lay in its unwavering reliability. no matter the storm, no matter the upheaval, she stood by you—a pillar of strength when yours faltered, a reservoir of calm when your heart was in turmoil.

together, you shared the subtle joys of life—the quiet satisfaction of a shared silence, the comfort of knowing glances, the unspoken understanding that words could never fully encapsulate. with her, even the simplest moments took on a golden hue: a walk through a park became an exploration of the world’s wonders, a shared meal transformed into a sacred ritual, and laughter—oh, the laughter!—was a melody that lingered long after the echoes had faded.

in her presence, you found the courage to dream and the strength to pursue those dreams. she believed in you when you struggled to believe in yourself, offering a hand to lift you up, a shoulder to lean on, and a heart that beat in sync with yours. her friendship was not just a connection, but a lifeline—a reminder that even in the vast expanse of existence, you were never truly alone.

looking back, the memory of that friendship was like a warm embrace, a cherished relic of a time when life’s complexities were softened by the simplicity of true companionship. it was a time when you knew, with absolute certainty, that no matter what the future held, you had been blessed to experience the beauty of having a friend—a true friend—by your side.

joohyun had always been your anchor in the storm, the quiet, composed presence that kept you tethered when life felt like it was pulling you in every direction at once. even as children, when your world revolved around scraped knees and backyard adventures, joohyun was the one who kept you grounded. she was the kind of girl who never lost her cool, who knew exactly what she wanted and never wavered in her pursuit of it. you admired her for that.

she was the opposite of you in so many ways. where she was serious and composed, you were carefree, often impulsive. you leapt before you looked, chasing after whatever caught your eye without a second thought. and yet, despite your differences, she never made you feel small or foolish. if anything, she seemed to find your antics amusing, a quiet smile playing on her lips whenever you dragged her into yet another one of your wild schemes. you liked her just the way she was—quiet, steady, always a little bit mysterious. and she didn’t mind you either. you were her sunshine in the rain, a burst of light in her more subdued world.

she was there for you in every sense of the word. when you fell as a child, bruising your knees on the pavement, she would scold you for being careless even as she carefully cleaned your wounds, her touch gentle and sure. it was a ritual between the two of you—your recklessness, her quiet care. she was the one who eased you through the tumultuous years of puberty, when your body and mind seemed at war with each other. she never judged you for the confusion, the frustration that bubbled over in those moments when you didn’t quite know who you were. instead, she listened, her calm presence a balm to your troubled thoughts.

when you came out, stumbling over your words as you tried to explain something you barely understood yourself, she was the one who made it simple. “you’re no different from me,” she had said, her voice steady, her eyes warm with understanding. “we breathe, we eat, we live. why would you be ashamed of your heart?” in that moment, you had never felt more seen, more accepted. it was as though she had lifted a weight from your shoulders, giving you the courage to embrace who you were without fear.

joohyun was always there for you, a constant in a world that was anything but. and even when life took you to the other side of the world, to the states for work, that bond remained unbroken. the physical distance never seemed to matter. you were used to calling her at odd hours, checking in to make sure she was eating properly, that she was taking care of herself. it was a habit born of years of friendship, one that neither of you ever questioned.

but this time, it was different. you were in the middle of a meeting, your mind focused on the endless stream of tasks that came with your job, when your phone buzzed with an incoming call. you didn’t even need to look at the screen to know it was joohyun. she knew your schedule by heart, knew when you were busy and when you were free. that she was calling now, in the middle of your workday, meant something was wrong.

her words, when you answered, were stark, devoid of the usual warmth that colored her voice. “my mother died,” she said, the words falling like stones into the silence between you. there was a pause, a breath where you struggled to process the enormity of what she had just told you. and then, in that same flat tone, she added, “there was a fire.”

the details came in disjointed fragments, each more harrowing than the last. her mother had been alone in the house, a house that joohyun had worked so hard to make a home. she had left the stove on, a simple mistake, and fallen asleep. by the time joohyun returned, there was nothing left. the fire had taken everything, reducing the place she had grown up in, the place where she had cared for her mother, to ashes.

the first thing she did was call you. she didn’t ask you to come, didn’t plead for your help, because she didn’t have to. she knew, with the same certainty that had defined your friendship for all these years, that you would come. you always did when it was for her.

and so, you booked the first flight back to korea, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this time, it was your turn to be her anchor, to be the steady presence that she had always been for you. as the plane took off, you stared out the window, watching the world below grow smaller and smaller, and thought of joohyun, alone in the aftermath of her loss.

you had been apart for so long, each of you building your lives on opposite sides of the world, but none of that mattered now. what mattered was that she needed you, just as you had needed her so many times before. the memory of her voice, so calm and composed even in the face of tragedy, echoed in your mind. you knew that when you saw her, she would still be that same joohyun—serious, composed, always in control. but you also knew that beneath that facade, she was hurting in a way she had never hurt before.

and you would be there for her, just as she had always been there for you. you would stand by her side, through the grief and the pain, through the long nights and the endless days. because that was what friendship meant—being there, no matter what, no matter how much time had passed or how far apart you had been. you would be her sunshine in the rain, once more.

the plane jolted as it touched down, pulling you abruptly from the cascade of thoughts that had been swirling in your mind. you couldn’t quite grasp the exact contents of those thoughts—they were a tangled web of worry, hope, and anticipation—but you knew they all revolved around her. joohyun. how you could help her, what the first step would be, how you would even begin to approach her after six long years apart. the thoughts clung to you like a persistent mist, following you even as you gathered your luggage, your senses taking in the familiar sights and sounds of korea. the country’s beauty was as unyielding as ever, its landscapes and cityscapes a comforting reminder of home.

but then, you saw her. she was standing near the arrival gate, her presence immediately recognizable even from a distance. you noticed her long before she spotted you, and in that instant, all those tangled thoughts seemed to evaporate, replaced by a single, clear realization: korea wasn’t the only thing that had remained beautiful. joohyun had changed in the years you had been apart, yet she was still the same in so many ways.

she had grown taller, taller than you at least, and the once slight frame of the teenager you had known had matured into that of a woman. her black hair framed her face in a way that accentuated her features, and though her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever, you knew she was hurting. even so, when she finally noticed you, her eyes betrayed her, lighting up for just a fraction of a second. a smile, small and fleeting, touched her lips, but she quickly tucked it away, maintaining the calm composure she was known for. she slipped her hands into her pockets and turned toward you with a measured nod, a subtle acknowledgment of your presence.

you didn’t hesitate. how could you? the handle of your suitcase slipped from your grasp, forgotten as you broke into a run. you closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, your heart pounding in your chest, not from exertion but from the overwhelming emotion that surged through you. the moment you reached her, you threw your arms around her, rising onto your toes to bury your face in the familiar curve of her neck. for a heartbeat, she seemed frozen in place, her body stiff against yours. how long had it been? six years since you last saw her, standing in this very airport, waving goodbye as you left for the states. you had changed—grown taller, perhaps prettier—but as you held her, it was clear that some things hadn’t changed at all.

you hugged her just as you always had, with all the intensity of someone who had been holding on to their memories for far too long. and then, slowly, she hugged you back. her arms wrapped around you in that same calm, steady way, and you could feel her relax into the embrace, allowing herself to absorb the warmth she had been without for so many years.

when you finally pulled back, your face broke into a broad smile. “i missed you so much,” you whispered, the words tumbling out with all the pent-up emotion you had carried across oceans and time zones. she scoffed softly, her eyes flicking to yours, and you saw the faint blur of tears in your vision. “i can’t believe you’re crying,” she said, her voice light but with an undertone that spoke of something deeper. she paused, and in that moment, there was a tenderness in her gaze that you rarely saw. “you haven’t changed at all.”

her words tugged at something in your heart, a mix of warmth and a sadness that threatened to spill over. but she held it together, even as the sight of your tears seemed to break something inside her. you shook your head and wiped your eyes with a small, resigned sigh. “you’re so cold,” you joked, your voice a little unsteady but filled with affection. “you haven’t changed either.”

a small smile curved her lips, a smile that was all the more precious because it was so rare. without another word, you both turned to retrieve your suitcase from where it had fallen, and as you walked back together, side by side, you felt the weight of all those years apart begin to lift. there was still so much to say, so much to do, but for now, it was enough to be here with her. just like old times.

the drive through the familiar streets of korea felt like stepping back into a dream you had almost forgotten. the air was thick with the scent of home, a mixture of city life and something more intangible, something that spoke of all the memories you had left behind. you leaned out the window, letting the breeze play with your hair, your eyes drinking in the sights you hadn’t seen in years. everything felt the same, yet different—like revisiting a childhood haunt and realizing you’re not the same person who once walked those streets.

your thoughts drifted, slipping into the past, to all the moments you and joohyun had shared in this very city. the streets were filled with ghosts of your younger selves, echoes of laughter, of late-night talks, of dreams spoken in hushed voices. you were so lost in the haze of nostalgia that you barely noticed when the window began to close, the glass rising slowly until it was halfway shut. the abruptness startled you, and you whipped your head around to see joohyun, her fingers still on the button, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

“a warning would be nice next time,” you scowled, half-serious, half-amused.

she chuckled, the sound low and soft, a quiet expression of the emotions she kept tightly guarded. you could see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders seemed lighter than they had been in the airport. despite everything she had lost, despite the crushing weight of her grief, she was happy to have you back, more than words could ever express. and perhaps that was why she didn’t say anything at all, letting the silence between you speak for her.

as the car continued its journey through the city, you leaned back against the seat, turning to face her. “you must be going through a lot,” you said gently, the words careful, cautious. you didn’t want to break her, but you couldn’t ignore the pain you knew she was holding inside. you watched as her face, momentarily softened by your presence, grew distant once more, a shadow passing over her features. “i’m sorry i wasn’t there,” you added, the apology hanging in the air between you like an unanswered question.

she shrugged, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, her expression unreadable. “not your fault,” she replied, her voice steady but detached. “you had work.” you frowned, knowing she was trying to shield you from the guilt, trying to make it easier for you to accept that life had pulled you away when she needed you most. but it didn’t lessen the ache in your chest, the regret that gnawed at you. “everything’s gone, isn’t it?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“the house is gone,” she answered, her voice dropping to a cold, emotionless tone that sent a shiver down your spine. her face hardened, her jaw tightening as she paused, a bitter smile flickering and dying as quickly as it had appeared. “but i’m not sure about everything else.”

a sprinkle of hope sparked within you, a fragile, flickering flame that there might be something left—something worth salvaging from the wreckage. “let’s go to your place first,” you suggested, your voice infused with a determination you hoped would give her strength. then, more gently, you added, “you’ll stay with me until we find you a new place.”

she nodded, her eyes still glued to the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. you knew this was a heartbreaking experience for her, more than you could ever truly understand. the loss of her mother, the destruction of her home—it was a devastation that would take years to heal, if it ever did. but selfishly, you couldn’t help wanting her close, wanting to keep her with you for as long as possible. perhaps it was your own fear, your own need to hold onto the one person who had always been your anchor.

the moment you reached the house, or rather, the charred remains of what once had been a home, joohyun’s face remained a mask of unreadable calm. but as you caught a glimpse of the scene in the rearview mirror, your own composure shattered. the sight of the blackened skeleton that was once her house, her sanctuary, hit you like a physical blow. a gasp escaped your lips as you fumbled with the door handle, stumbling out of the car before joohyun had even unbuckled her seatbelt. you rushed toward the yard, your breath hitching as you took in the devastation.

it was all gone. the house, the memories, the warmth that had once filled this place—it had all truly burned down. the structure was a ruin, a husk of twisted metal and ash, standing like a ghost in the pale light of the day. you felt a deep, aching sense of loss as you recalled the times you had spent here with joohyun and her mother. you remembered the afternoons spent sharing homemade cookies, the evenings where laughter filled the air, and even the night you shared your first sip of alcohol under the watchful, yet understanding eyes of her mother. these were moments that had seemed eternal at the time, woven into the fabric of this place. but now, they had vanished as if they had never been, reduced to nothing more than smoke and ash.

you didn’t even notice joohyun’s presence behind you until her voice broke through the heavy silence. “it’s a mess, isn’t it?” she said, her tone flat, almost detached.

you nodded weakly, amazed at the way she managed to hold herself together. she stood beside you, her gaze sweeping over the ruins with a cold, steady look, as if she had already accepted the loss, as if the sight of it didn’t break her heart anew. you both walked into the scattered remains, your steps cautious, as if you were treading through sacred ground. the once vibrant garden was now nothing but a patch of dirt, the flowers and grass scorched away, leaving behind a barren wasteland. the house, where her mother had once bustled about, was reduced to a skeleton of beams and charred wood. it was hard to tell where anything had been, where her mother had spent her last moments, because everything was gone, indistinguishable from the rest of the debris.

you took it all in, every agonizing detail, trying to grasp the magnitude of the loss, until joohyun’s voice cut through your thoughts. “holy shit,” she muttered, her voice tight with disbelief.

you turned to see her standing in the far corner of what had once been the living room, her frame bent over something small and dark against the ash-covered ground. your heart clenched as you rushed over, dread twisting in your gut. “what happened?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. but as you reached her, you didn’t need an answer. the sight before you told the story in heart-wrenching clarity.

there, half-buried in the soot and debris, were the melted remains of piano keys. they were barely recognizable, twisted and warped beyond repair, but you knew exactly what they were. they had once been part of a beautiful piano, a gift from her mother, a lifeline for joohyun. it was the one thing that had always grounded her, the thing that had held her together when everything else was falling apart. now, it too was destroyed, reduced to a pitiful pile of warped plastic and charred wood.

“you’ve gotta be kidding,” she scoffed, her voice bitter, filled with a frustration that bordered on anger. she stood up suddenly, her face twisted with emotion, and with a sharp kick, she sent the remains of the keys scattering across the ground. the act was one of raw, unfiltered rage, a moment where the grief she had been holding back finally broke through the surface.

you watched her, helpless, feeling the weight of her pain settle heavily in your chest. “i’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice trembling, but you knew the words were inadequate. they could do nothing to bring back what had been lost. joohyun didn’t respond, her expression blank as she turned away from the wreckage and made her way back to the car. you stood there for a moment longer, staring at the scattered keys, the last remnants of something that had once brought her so much joy. there was nothing left for you to do here, nothing to salvage from the ashes. with a heavy heart, you turned and followed her, the weight of her grief pressing down on you like a physical thing.

the drive back home was steeped in silence, a quiet so profound that it felt almost sacred. you had insisted on taking over the wheel, and joohyun hadn’t argued. she simply nodded, slipping into the passenger seat with an almost mechanical grace, her body sagging against the window. you glanced at her from time to time as you drove, the road ahead a blur of gray asphalt and muted city lights. her eyes were distant, lost somewhere deep within herself, her thoughts wrapped tightly around the remnants of the life she had just left behind.

you wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension, to pull her back from whatever dark place she had retreated to. but the words felt clumsy and inadequate in your mouth. still, you couldn’t stand the silence, so you spoke softly, hoping your voice might reach her. “don’t worry too much about it,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the road ahead.

she didn’t respond, her gaze remaining fixed on the passing scenery outside the window, her reflection barely visible in the glass. you bit your lip, realizing that your attempt to comfort her had fallen flat. maybe she wasn’t ready to talk, maybe she just needed this silence to process everything. so, you let it be, sinking into your own thoughts, the quiet stretching between you like a fragile thread.

when you finally arrived at your house, the familiarity of it brought a wave of unexpected comfort. it was as if no time had passed at all—the same wooden porch, the same door with the paint slightly chipped at the edges, the same sense of home that had always been there. you hadn’t put the place up for rent or sale, too sentimental to let go of the memories embedded in its walls. the house had always been a repository of your past, a place where you had tucked away moments too precious to be shared with the world. it seemed you were more sentimental than joohyun, who had always moved forward with a quiet, determined resolve, leaving the past where it belonged.

she took your suitcase from the trunk as you fumbled with your keys, her movements steady and purposeful despite the exhaustion you knew she must have been feeling. when you finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, the smell hit you first—a mix of wood, dust, and something uniquely yours. it was the smell of home, unchanged by the years. the interior was the same too, a snapshot frozen in time, as if the house itself had been waiting for your return.

joohyun stepped inside and paused, her eyes sweeping over the familiar surroundings. she took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort, and you could see a small measure of the tension drain from her. “make yourself at home,” you said softly, watching as she nodded in response, her eyes still distant but a little less haunted.

she walked over to the couch and planted herself on it, her movements slow, almost lethargic. you stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before you saw her reach into her pocket and pull out a small box. she fumbled with it, drawing out a cigarette and placing it between her lips. her eyes flickered up to meet yours, a silent question lingering in the air between you. “can i smoke inside?” she asked, her voice flat, almost dispassionate.

you nodded with a small smile, understanding the need behind the request. joohyun had always been a smoker, though only in times of stress, when the world seemed too heavy to bear on her own. you had never liked the taste of cigarettes, the acrid smell that clung to the air, but you understood that this was her way of coping, of finding a moment’s peace amidst the chaos.

she fumbled with the cigarette for a moment longer before muttering a soft, “shit,” her frustration evident in the way her shoulders tensed. she turned to you again, her expression a mix of exasperation and helplessness. “do you have a lighter by any chance?”

you thought about it for a second, recalling the small collection you had accumulated over the years. you weren’t a smoker yourself, but you had always kept lighters around, just for her. joohyun had a habit of half-assing her smoking, never bothering to carry a lighter with her. it had become something of a ritual for you, collecting lighters and storing them in a bowl on the counter, ready for whenever she might need one.

without a word, you walked over to the counter and pulled out a white lighter from the bowl. but before you handed it to her, an idea struck you. You reached into a drawer, pulling out a marker, and carefully wrote her initials—J.H.—on the side of the lighter. it was a small gesture, but one filled with meaning, a way of telling her that you were thinking of her, that you would always be there to support her, even in the smallest of ways.

you handed her the lighter with a grin, your eyes warm as you said, “there you go,” pausing before adding with a playful smile, “now you have your own lighter.”

she took it quietly, her fingers brushing against yours as she accepted the small gift. her face remained unreadable, but there was a softness in her eyes, a flicker of emotion that she didn’t bother to hide. a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and though she didn’t say anything, that smile said enough.

as you settled into your room, the familiar routine of unpacking your suitcase offered a strange comfort, a sense of returning to something long forgotten yet deeply cherished. you laid out your clothes carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles with your hands as you arranged them on the bed. each garment held a memory, a fragment of the past that you couldn’t help but savor. the room was bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, the shadows stretching across the walls in long, gentle strokes. you took your time, enjoying the simple act of putting your life back in order after the chaos of travel.

your makeup followed suit, each item placed with precision on the dresser. you smiled to yourself as you laid out the small tubes of lipstick, the compacts of blush, the brushes and powders. the thought of sharing these things with joohyun filled you with a nostalgic warmth. it was just like when you were younger, when you would sit cross-legged on the floor of your old room, giggling as you applied cheap makeup to each other’s faces, or swapped clothes in a flurry of fabric before heading out. nothing had changed, it seemed, despite the years that had stretched between then and now.

you glanced over at the clothes you had neatly stacked on the bed. some were from your suitcase, others you had pulled from your closet. they were a mix of styles, colors, and textures, each piece carefully chosen with joohyun in mind. you wanted her to feel at home, to feel cared for, to know that you would do anything to ease her burden, even if it was just something as simple as offering her a change of clothes.

you didn’t notice her presence at first—not until the faint, familiar scent of cigarette smoke reached your nose. you turned to see her standing in the doorway, the cigarette poised between her fingers, a thin trail of smoke curling upwards. she looked at you, her expression unreadable, but there was a softness in her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.

a smile tugged at your lips as you gestured to the clothes on the bed. “i figured you’d need this,” you said, your voice light but filled with meaning. “but we’ll have to go out and buy some more.” you paused, suddenly unsure. “is this okay?”

she nodded, her gaze shifting to the clothes as she approached the bed. she sat down on the edge, her fingers brushing lightly over the fabric, tracing the patterns as if trying to commit them to memory. a dry laugh escaped her lips, a sound that was both bitter and amused. “just like old times,” she murmured, almost to herself. it was as if she had plucked the thought straight from your mind.

you nodded in agreement, the memories flooding back with a bittersweet intensity. “i can get the guest room ready for you in a bit,” you offered, your voice softer now, tinged with a nervous energy you couldn’t quite place.

but she shook her head, catching you off guard. “what? we can share clothes but not a bed?” her tone was teasing, a playful challenge meant to lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect. your breath caught in your throat, a rush of old, buried feelings surfacing unexpectedly. the thought of sharing a bed with her, of being so close to her again after all this time—it was both thrilling and terrifying.

she seemed to notice the change in your expression, her teasing smile fading into something more serious. “if you’re uncomfortable with it, i’ll sleep in the other room,” she offered, her voice gentle, as if trying to soothe whatever inner turmoil you were suddenly grappling with. you were quick to protest, shaking your head as you rushed to reassure her. “no, it’s fine. it won’t be a problem at all.”

she nodded, accepting your words without question, but there was a hint of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe just a quiet understanding. she stood up, taking the folded pajamas from the bed before making her way toward the bathroom. the door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone in the silence of your room, the air heavy with the scent of her cigarette.

you sat down on the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you smoothed out the fabric of the sheets. what was wrong with you? why were you so on edge? this was joohyun, your lifelong friend, the person who had been by your side through everything. sharing a bed with her should have been the most natural thing in the world, just like old times.

but as you sat there, your heart beating a little too fast, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. maybe it was the passage of time, the years that had slipped by while you were apart. or maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened, the loss and the grief that hung between you like a thick fog. whatever it was, it left you feeling unsettled, your thoughts spiraling in directions you hadn’t expected.

you left your room, the silence of the house pressing in around you, each step muffled by the soft carpet beneath your feet. the air was still, the kind of stillness that held its breath in anticipation, as if waiting for something to break the quiet. you walked toward the kitchen, the thought of preparing something to eat offering a welcome distraction from the strange tension that had settled in your chest.

but as you passed the bathroom, something caught your eye—a sliver of light, the door left slightly ajar. it was a small thing, easily ignored, yet you found yourself pausing. without thinking, you reached out to close it, your hand hovering just above the wood. but before you could move, your gaze drifted through the narrow opening, and what you saw made your breath hitch in your throat.

joohyun was inside, her back to you as she stood by the sink. her pajamas lay folded on the counter, and she was undressing, peeling off her clothes with a slow, deliberate grace that made your heart stutter in your chest. the shirt slipped from her shoulders, revealing the smooth, pale curve of her back, each motion unhurried, almost languid, as if she had all the time in the world. you should have looked away. you knew you should have walked away, closed the door and given her privacy. but you couldn’t move, couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of her.

the room seemed to shrink around you, the walls pressing in as your mind raced. this wasn’t the first time you’d seen her like this; you had grown up together, had shared everything from clothes to secrets. you’d bathed together as toddlers, innocent and carefree, unaware of the changes that time would bring. but now, standing there with your heart pounding in your ears, you realized with startling clarity that something had changed.

you forced yourself to turn away, to drag your gaze from her and step back into the hallway. your heart was still racing, a wild, erratic beat that echoed in the silence. “what’s wrong with you?” you whispered to yourself, trying to shake off the feeling that had lodged itself deep in your chest, a mixture of confusion, longing, and something you couldn’t quite name. you felt the tension gathering in your throat, the way your breath came in shallow, uneven bursts. you swallowed hard, trying to push it down, to regain some semblance of control as you made your way to the kitchen.

the kitchen was familiar and comforting in its simplicity. the countertops were just as you remembered, the cabinets filled with the same mismatched dishes you had grown up with. you focused on the task at hand, letting the routine of cooking ground you, offering a distraction from the turmoil that had erupted within you. you set about preparing a meal, the rhythmic motions of chopping and stirring soothing your frayed nerves.

but no matter how hard you tried, the feeling lingered, a ghostly presence that hovered just out of reach, impossible to ignore. your hands moved automatically, muscle memory guiding you as you worked, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying the scene in the bathroom over and over. you could still see her in your mind’s eye, the way her shirt had fallen away, the curve of her spine, the gentle slope of her shoulders.

you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear her approach until it was too late. her voice cut through the quiet, startling you. “you’re still a mess in the kitchen,” she remarked, a teasing lilt to her tone. “how you managed six years alone is a mystery.” you turned to face her, trying to muster a smile, but she caught the look on your face, her own expression shifting from playful to concerned.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

if only it were that simple, you thought, the words catching in your throat. how could you explain the tangled mess of emotions that had suddenly overwhelmed you? the way your heart had reacted to seeing her, the strange, inexplicable pull you felt toward her? you swallowed hard, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

“i’m just tired,” you lied, your voice too tight, too thin to be convincing. but she didn’t press further, didn’t question you as you turned back to the stove. yet you could feel the weight of her gaze on you, the unspoken words hanging in the air between you.

you focused on the food, on the simple, mundane act of cooking, but your hands betrayed you, trembling slightly as you worked. the knife slipped once, twice, but you caught it each time, cursing under your breath. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to feel like this, to be so affected by something so simple, so innocuous. but no matter how hard you tried to push it away, the feeling remained, an undercurrent of tension that refused to dissipate. as you stood there in the kitchen, the scent of the meal you were preparing mingling with the faint trace of her cigarette smoke, you couldn’t help but wonder what this all meant. what had changed between you and joohyun? and why, after all these years, did it feel like something was about to break?

you carefully laid out two plates of spicy fish stew on the living room table, the rich, aromatic scent of the dish filling the room. the stew, vibrant with its red chili paste, was a testament to the fiery flavors that defined so much of the cuisine you cherished. the warm, spicy aroma wafted through the room, mingling with the comforting ambiance of your home. joohyun looked up from her seat on the couch, her eyes brightening as she took in the meal you had prepared. “thank you,” she said with a smile, her voice carrying a hint of genuine appreciation.

you both settled into the comfortable cushions, the familiarity of the living room wrapping around you like an old friend. as you began to dig into the stew, you couldn’t help but comment, “i think koreans have a blood that’s more red than others.” she looked up at you with a puzzled expression. “what do you mean?”

“it’s because of the chili paste,” you explained, chuckling at her confusion. she scoffed, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched you. a few moments later, the spicy kick of the stew hit your tongue with a vengeance, making you cough uncontrollably. the heat was intense, the spices dancing on the surface of your tongue. joohyun’s teasing voice cut through your coughing fit. “your blood must’ve paled. the states really got to you, huh?”

you shot her a look, downing your water in a bid to cool the fire that was blazing in your mouth. despite the pain, you found solace in the comforting routine of the meal, the familiar tastes grounding you in a way that was both soothing and unsettling. the meal was undeniably comforting, the taste of home a balm to your frayed nerves. yet, as you washed the plates afterward, a sense of unease lingered in the air. everything felt as it should, yet something was subtly amiss. the house, the food, the company—all were familiar, but the undercurrent of tension remained present, like a shadow lurking just out of sight.

you looked over at joohyun, who was now sprawled on the couch, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. the television played in the background, but she paid it no mind, her fingers absently playing with the lighter. the small flame flickered on and off, casting brief, dancing shadows on her face. concerned, you took a seat beside her, breaking the silence with a soft question. “are you sure you’ll be okay?” she nodded, her gaze still unfocused. “i’m just thinking,” she said quietly. “about her.”

your heart ached at the raw emotion in her voice. “you must miss her, don’t you?” she shrugged, a hint of resignation in her tone. “everybody dies, right? i just wanna know what happens after, where you go when the end comes.”

the question was profound, echoing a sentiment that you had grappled with yourself. the uncertainty of what lay beyond was a question without a definitive answer, only a spectrum of beliefs and hopes. you tried to offer a sliver of optimism, hoping it would bring her some comfort. “if there’s a heaven, she’ll be the first one there.”

joohyun’s eyes met yours, a flicker of sadness mingled with hope in their depths. “i wanna go there, too.”

her words cut through you, a sharp pang of emotion striking deep within. you fought to keep your voice steady, a smile curving your lips despite the ache in your chest. “you will. why wouldn’t you?”

her gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight of her grief seemed to lift just slightly. the two of you sat together in silence, the room filled with the quiet hum of the television and the occasional flicker of the lighter. you wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that there was a place beyond the pain and loss, where those we love could find peace.

your room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting gentle shadows on the walls that seemed to whisper of the past. the familiar scent of lavender, the same scent you had always kept in the room, lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the stew you had prepared earlier. everything was exactly as you remembered it—your room, your bed, the slight creak of the wooden floorboards beneath your feet. yet, despite the comforting familiarity, your heart was pounding with an intensity that left you breathless.

you approached the bed with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. joohyun was already settled on her side, claiming the left side of the bed. she had always preferred that side, a small detail that seemed so insignificant yet felt profoundly comforting now. you climbed in carefully, trying to mask the nervous tremor in your movements. the bed was just as you remembered—soft, with a slight dip in the middle where you had spent countless nights, and the same plush pillows that had witnessed many shared conversations and quiet moments.

as you eased yourself into your side of the bed, joohyun turned toward you, a yawn escaping her lips. “i’m so tired,” she murmured, her voice carrying a weary undertone that spoke of the long day she had endured. “fuck.”

you settled into your spot, your head sinking into the pillow. “get some rest,” you said softly. “as long as you want.”

she nodded, her gaze following your movements as you found your place beside her. the silence that fell between you was thick but not uncomfortable. it was a silence filled with the weight of years spent apart, of memories rekindled and emotions left unspoken. you turned to face her, your eyes meeting hers in the dim light. in that silence, everything seemed magnified—the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the way the moonlight played on her features, the softness of her hair spread across the pillow. you couldn’t help but watch her, taking in every detail as if memorizing it.

joohyun broke the silence with a quiet, almost hesitant whisper. “i missed you.”

her words were a soft, tender balm to the ache that had settled in your heart. your own heart fluttered at her admission, and a genuine smile spread across your face. “i missed you too.”

a small, wistful smile graced her lips in return, a fleeting moment of warmth that seemed to bridge the gap of the years you had spent apart. then, she closed her eyes, the smile lingering just a moment longer before it faded into the peaceful stillness of sleep. the room was silent except for the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing and the steady, insistent pounding of your heart. it was a sound that filled your ears, a reminder of the emotion you felt, the connection you cherished. as you lay there, your gaze fixed on the ceiling, you allowed yourself to relax into the bed. despite the pounding of your heart, there was a sense of contentment, of belonging, that wrapped around you like a gentle embrace.

when you woke up, the room was still shrouded in the soft, early morning light. joohyun lay beside you, her form curled comfortably into the pillows, her breathing slow and steady. she looked so serene, her features softened in sleep, and for a moment, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. the stillness of her slumber, the peace etched across her face—it felt like a delicate treasure that you didn’t want to disturb.

quietly, you eased yourself out of bed, taking care not to make a sound. the soft rustling of the sheets was the only noise you allowed yourself as you moved about. you dressed carefully, each motion deliberate and soft, ensuring that nothing would rouse her from her restful state.

once you were ready, you padded softly to the door, feeling a peculiar sense of anticipation. it had been a while since you’d checked the mailbox, and a part of you hoped for something—anything—that might offer a semblance of normalcy. stepping outside, you made your way to the mailbox, your heart quickening with each step.

to your surprise, the mailbox was indeed full. a letter jutted out conspicuously, and you retrieved it with a sense of eagerness. as you opened the envelope, a wave of relief washed over you. it was your paycheck for the month, finally arriving after a delay due to your recent departure. holding it in your hands, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. it was a tangible reminder that, despite everything, some things remained stable.

the financial strain you had been feeling was momentarily alleviated. you knew you couldn’t spend it recklessly, as you had struggled with in the past. joohyun had always been the one with the knack for smart spending, a skill you had admired and aspired to learn. but now, with this money in hand, a thought struck you—a way to spend it thoughtfully and meaningfully.

you hurried back inside, the letter clutched in your hand, and reached for your phone. your mind raced with the idea you had conceived, driven by the need to act quickly and decisively. you knew exactly what you wanted to do. without hesitation, you began to place an order, your fingers flying over the screen. this was not for you but for joohyun, a gesture of care and support that felt right in the moment.

as you completed the transaction, a sense of satisfaction settled over you. the order would be delivered promptly and securely, a small but significant way to show your support and gratitude for the years of friendship and understanding you had shared. you imagined joohyun’s reaction, the surprise and appreciation that would follow, and it made the effort worth it.

when joohyun woke up, the room was bathed in a soft morning light that filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. you were already in the living room, your movements quiet and careful as you prepared two cups of coffee. the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee filled the space, a comforting and familiar scent that seemed to promise a sense of normalcy amidst the turmoil. you had arranged the cups on the table, and as she emerged from the bedroom, her eyes still heavy with sleep, you handed her one with a warm smile. “good morning,” you said softly. “coffee?”

she accepted the cup with a murmured thank you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. she appeared distracted, her usual composure replaced by an off-kilter demeanor that seemed out of place. though she had slept in, there was more to her mood than mere tiredness. as she sat down on the couch, her gaze fell upon the lighter you had given her. it was perched on the counter, a small, simple object that now seemed to carry a heavier weight. she reached for it, her fingers absently flicking the flame on and off. the sight of the flame, so small and yet so symbolic, seemed to hold a peculiar significance for her—a reminder of what had been lost.

without thinking, you moved closer and gently blew out the flame. joohyun turned to you with a look of surprise, her eyes widening as she met your gaze. “what?” you asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “so glum this early?”

ahe sighed deeply, the sound a mix of exhaustion and introspection. “i’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know anything. i have no idea who i am.” her words were laden with uncertainty, a contrast to her usually poised demeanor. you understood her struggle without needing any further explanation. how could she possibly find herself after enduring such profound loss, after seeing everything she had disappear in an instant?

“bae joohyun,” you whispered softly, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. “you’re bae joohyun.”

joohyun’s gaze met yours, and a small, sad smile crept across her face. “i have no idea who she is anymore,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with resignation.

you placed a reassuring hand over hers, the warmth of her skin surprising you. the gesture was as much for your comfort as for hers, a physical connection that bridged the gap between uncertainty and reassurance. you winced slightly at the warmth, but you forced a gentle smile as you spoke. “you have all the time in the world to figure that out,” you said. “there’s no rush.”

her eyes softened, and she nodded, seemingly comforted by your words. ahe hadn’t even realized that the lighter had slipped from her grasp, falling unnoticed to the floor. the small act of solace seemed to bring a fleeting sense of peace, and for a moment, the weight of her burden felt a little lighter.

you watched joohyun from the corner of your eye as the hours passed, the way she clung to familiar comforts like cigarettes and alcohol, the way her gaze seemed lost in the flicker of the lighter’s flame. the weight of her grief was evident in these small, self-destructive habits, a silent testament to the immense loss she had suffered. it pained you to see her slipping away, losing pieces of herself in the haze of her sorrow.

the sound of the doorbell broke through your thoughts, a sharp, promising chime that tugged you from your concern. you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement. the order you had placed had arrived faster than you had hoped, and the prospect of surprising joohyun brought a renewed sense of purpose.

“who is it?” her voice called out from the hallway, tinged with curiosity. without missing a beat, you sprinted to her, gently but firmly guiding her back into the living room. “don’t come out, don’t you dare,” you whispered urgently, trying to keep your voice low and insistent. her startled expression softened into a chuckle, but she complied, retreating to the couch with a bemused shake of her head.

you returned to the door, signing for the package and then stepping outside to retrieve it. the box was enormous, much larger than anything you could comfortably manage on your own, but you were determined. the weight of it was a physical manifestation of your resolve, a symbol of your intent to ease her pain, even if just a little.

straining under the box’s weight, you navigated the stairs with careful steps, the bulk of the package pressing heavily against you. sweat trickled down your forehead, and you muttered to yourself, “she better like it,” as you heaved the box into your room.

once inside, you carefully unboxed the contents, revealing the piano in its elegant form. the sight of it, pristine and intact, filled you with a profound sense of relief. you had chosen this as a gift not just for its sentimental value but for the solace it could bring. the piano was more than just an instrument; it was a piece of joohyun’s past, a fragment of what had been lost, now returned to her.

wiping the sweat from your brow, you took a moment to admire the piano’s glossy surface, its intricate details catching the soft light of the room. this was not merely an object but a bridge to her past, a connection to the pieces of herself she had feared were gone forever. you carefully positioned the piano in a corner of your room, making sure it was perfectly placed. the act of setting it up was almost ceremonial, a way of honoring her grief and the memories that had been intertwined with the instrument.

as you finished, you stood back, allowing yourself a moment to appreciate the sight of the piano. you knew that the gift, while tangible, was a symbol of your unwavering support and love. it was a gesture to remind her that amidst all the loss and confusion, there was still something familiar, something worth holding onto. satisfied with your efforts, you made your way back downstairs, where joohyun was still seated on the couch. her eyes were drawn to you as you approached, and you could see a flicker of curiosity in them.

as you stood in the doorway, her eyes searching your exhausted form, she asked, “what is it?” her voice was tinged with concern and curiosity. you could see the confusion in her eyes, but you shook your head, a smile playing on your lips despite the fatigue that weighed on your shoulders.

“just close your eyes,” you instructed gently, your voice soft but insistent. you reached for her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours as you guided her up the stairs. her fingers intertwined with yours, and the sensation sent a shiver through you, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness that made your heart race. you could feel the subtle tremor in your knees, but you focused on the comforting reality of her hand in yours, the connection between you both.

the climb up the stairs seemed to stretch on forever, but with every step, you felt a growing sense of anticipation. as you reached your room, you eased her into the space, positioning her in front of the piano with a whispered, “you can open your eyes now.”

joohyun hesitated for a brief moment before she complied, her gaze slowly adjusting to the sight before her. her eyes widened as she took in the grand piano, its polished surface gleaming softly in the morning light. the instrument stood there like a beacon of lost memories, its presence a tangible connection to the past that had been so cruelly stripped away.

“you,” she began, her voice faltering as she struggled to find the right words. her shock was evident, her eyes moving over the piano’s every detail, as if trying to assure herself that it was real. she reached out, her fingers trailing delicately over the surface, the familiar sensation bringing a tremor of emotion. when she turned back to you, you asked softly, “do you like it?”

the question seemed to float in the air, and rather than answering with words, joohyun’s response came in the form of a gentle embrace. she stepped toward you and wrapped her arms around you, the gesture tender and heartfelt. it wasn’t an eager or frantic hug but one of deep, composed gratitude. you were momentarily taken aback, the warmth of her embrace flooding over you, and you held her close, savoring the closeness you had missed so dearly.

“thank you,” she whispered against your shoulder, her voice catching slightly. “i can’t believe you did this.” you pulled back slightly, offering her a reassuring smile. “you should thank me by playing it,” you said playfully, “it’s only fair.”

joohyun chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with a mix of gratitude and joy. she nodded, her smile growing as she moved to sit in front of the piano. you watched with bated breath as she positioned herself on the bench, her fingers poised above the keys.

with a deep breath, she began to play. the initial notes were hesitant, but soon they flowed smoothly, her fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. the music filled the room, a rich, melodic tapestry that wove together the threads of her past with the present moment. each note seemed to resonate with a part of her soul, a reflection of both her joy and her sorrow.

you stood behind her, mesmerized by the way her hands moved with such fluidity and skill. the sound of the piano was both soothing and invigorating, and you felt a surge of happiness as you watched her lose herself in the music. the composition was beautiful, a perfect blend of melancholic and hopeful tones that seemed to echo the complexities of her emotions. feeling a surge of affection, you slipped your arms around her neck, pulling her close as you swayed gently to the rhythm of the music. the contact between you both felt natural, comforting. she didn’t seem to mind your touch; in fact, she leaned into it, her posture relaxed and content.

the piano’s melody enveloped you both, a shared moment of intimacy and solace. you reveled in the feeling of being so close to her, of supporting her through this small, but significant act of reclaiming her passion. as she continued to play, her focus unwavering, you couldn’t help but feel the profound sense of fulfillment you had been longing for. in the midst of the music, you held her gently, allowing the notes to carry you both into a space where the past and present intertwined seamlessly.

as the final notes of the piano lingered in the air, fading into the quiet of the room, your arms remained wrapped gently around joohyun's neck. the silence that followed felt sacred, a soft cocoon of warmth and intimacy that neither of you wished to break. joohyun let out a quiet, almost breathless “thank you,” her voice carrying the weight of all the emotions she hadn’t expressed in words.

you smiled, your breath warm against her ear as you whispered back, “i haven’t heard you play in a while.” the truth of that statement hung between you both. six years, or perhaps even longer, had passed without the sound of her music. it was something she had always kept private, a part of herself she rarely shared with others. even her own mother had never heard her play the way she had for you. it had always been your shared secret, a testament to the closeness you once had—and maybe still did.

joohyun nodded in acknowledgment, her body easing into your touch as if seeking comfort in the familiarity of your embrace. “it’s been a while,” she murmured, her voice tinged with a quiet resignation.

you leaned in closer, turning slightly to meet her gaze. a teasing glint sparked in your eyes as you quipped, “must be why you’ve gotten rusty.” the playful accusation was met with a roll of her eyes, a gesture that felt like a return to your younger days when teasing banter was a regular occurrence between you.

she stood up then, gracefully extracting herself from your hold, though her expression remained soft, her smile lingering just at the corners of her lips. you clasped your hands together, a sudden idea igniting in your mind, one that felt so natural and right in that moment. “i have an idea,” you announced, your tone a mix of excitement and nostalgia. she raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “what’s the idea?”

“let’s go to the sea,” you suggested, your eyes bright with anticipation. the thought of the ocean, with its vastness and endless horizon, filled you with a sense of longing. it had been too long since you both had felt the salty breeze on your skin, heard the rhythmic crashing of the waves, or simply sat in the sand, watching the world go by. a smile tugged at her lips, one that she tried to suppress but failed. “we haven’t gone since we were kids,” she mused, more to herself than to you. there was something wistful in her tone, as if she too had been longing for the sea without realizing it.

you nodded eagerly, your enthusiasm infectious. “so, are you up for it?” joohyun met your gaze, her eyes searching yours for a moment before she nodded. “yeah,” she said softly, her smile widening as she agreed. “let’s go.”

the drive to the sea was filled with the kind of simple joy that felt as endless as the road stretched out before you. the windows were rolled down, letting the salty breeze whip through the car, tugging at your hair and filling the air with the scent of freedom. the radio hummed softly, playing songs that seemed to match the rhythm of your heart, every note underscoring the thrill of the moment. as joohyun drove, she glanced over at you, her eyes catching on the way the wind tousled your hair, how it mingled with the scent of salt and summer, how your face lit up with a grin that she had seen countless times before but never really noticed until now.

it was a startling realization for her. everything about you was familiar—your laughter, the way you leaned out the window, letting the wind carry your worries away, the light in your eyes as you lost yourself in the joy of the moment. it was all you, undeniably you, yet for the first time, joohyun felt something shift inside her. a strange, unnameable feeling that no melody could capture, no words could articulate. it was something she couldn’t quite explain, and it made her heart skip in a way that was both unsettling and wonderful. she turned her gaze back to the road, trying to focus on the drive, but that feeling lingered, refusing to be ignored.

when you finally reached the sea, joohyun barely had time to park the car before you bolted out, a cheer escaping your lips as you sprinted toward the sand. she found herself smiling, a genuine, soft smile that she hadn’t felt in a long time. you were a vision, spinning in the sand like a child, the wind playing with your hair, your white dress flowing around you like something out of a dream. the sight of you, so free, so full of life, made something tighten in her chest. you had always been you, the same you she had known for years—so why did it feel like she was seeing you for the first time?

“come on now,” she called out, her voice tinged with amusement. “you’re gonna fall.” but her words barely registered as you continued to move with the wind, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves, the sense of loss that had been hanging over you both replaced, even if only for a moment, by a burning nostalgia.

she walked over to your side, her steps slow, almost hesitant. when you turned to face her, your eyes were bright with excitement, and it was contagious. joohyun couldn’t help but smile as she took in the sight of you. you looked so happy, and the way her heart raced in response caught her off guard. “just like when we were kids, right?” she asked, her voice soft, almost wistful.

you paused, your expression thoughtful as you considered her words. “not quite,” you said finally, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

before she could ask what you meant, you crouched down, gathering a handful of seawater in your hands before standing up and flinging it at her with a playful laugh. the cold water splashed against her, and she flinched, a look of shock crossing her face as you grinned wider. “now it is,” you declared, your laughter ringing out like music.

joohyun wiped the water from her eyes, an incredulous smile tugging at her lips. “i might kill you now,” she muttered, but there was no real threat in her voice.

you didn’t wait to find out. with a yelp, you turned and started running, your feet kicking up sand as you made a break for it. to your surprise, joohyun took off after you, her usual cool demeanor lost to the sea breeze. it was a side of her you hadn’t seen in years, and it filled you with a giddy sense of joy. but she was faster than you anticipated, and before you knew it, she caught up to you, tackling you into the sand with a laugh.

she hovered over you, her breath coming in soft pants, her eyes locked on yours. the smile on your face never faltered, even as you brushed a few wet strands of hair away from her forehead. “you’re all wet,” you teased, your voice light, playful, but there was an undercurrent of something more—something neither of you dared to name.

she seemed stunned for a moment, her eyes widening slightly as she felt the warmth of your touch. she winced, but not out of discomfort—rather, it was a reaction to the unfamiliar craving your touch stirred in her. you looked so helpless, so pretty, so oblivious to the effect you had on her, and it was all she could think about.

“shut up,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, but she didn’t look away. she couldn’t. the feel of the sand between her toes, the salty water clinging to her skin—it all faded into the background. all that mattered was you, lying there beneath her, your eyes wide and trusting, your smile soft and sweet. you frowned slightly, a hint of worry creeping into your expression. “you’re not mad at me, are you?”

joohyun shook her head, her eyes never leaving yours. “how could i ever be mad at you?” she asked, her voice so tender it made your heart flutter.

it wasn’t one-sided. joohyun felt it too, that fluttering, fragile feeling that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. it was exactly why she forced herself to sit up, to put some distance between you, even if it was just a few inches. but you weren’t ready to let go of the moment. you sat up beside her, heaving a sigh of contentment as you leaned against her shoulder, your head resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world.

she stiffened slightly at the contact, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes once again found their way to your frame. you didn’t seem to notice, lost in your own memories as you smiled to yourself. “we came here when we were sixteen,” you recalled, your voice soft with nostalgia.

her lips curved into a small smile as the memory surfaced. “when you tried to drown my ex,” she finished, chuckling softly. “you’re a lunatic.”

you pouted, looking up to meet her gaze, your expression full of mock indignation. “he totally deserved it for cheating on you,” you insisted, sighing dramatically before adding, “you always pick losers.”

joohyun thought about it for a moment, her eyes never leaving yours as she softly agreed, “i do, don’t i?”

but as she said the words, the realization hit her like a wave. she wasn’t thinking about anyone else—not the ex who had wronged her, not the pain that had followed. all she could think about was you. you, who had always been there, who had always cared, who was still here, sitting beside her with that same smile she had known for years. and in that moment, nothing else mattered. not the sea, not the sand, not even the past. all she could look at was you.

the drive back home from the sea was quieter, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was a soothing, reflective kind of quiet, the kind that comes after you’ve spent time reconnecting with something you thought you’d lost. the day had passed in a blur of wind and waves, leaving both of you feeling a bit lighter, the weight of everything that had happened recently lifted, if only temporarily.

by the time you arrived home, night had fully fallen, the sky a deep indigo speckled with stars. you groaned as you stepped out of the car, stretching your arms above your head, every muscle in your body aching with exhaustion. “i’m so tired,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck as you trudged toward the house. “go sleep, don’t you have free will?” joohyun countered, her tone teasing, though her own steps were slower, more hesitant.

you turned to stick your tongue out at her, a playful gesture that had her smiling despite the turmoil in her mind. without waiting for her to respond, you ran to the bathroom, eager to wash off the salt and sand that clung to your skin.

joohyun chuckled softly to herself as she watched you go, but the smile faded as she made her way to your room. the door creaked as she pushed it open, the familiar space offering no comfort tonight. her mind was a tangled mess of thoughts, each one more confusing than the last. she didn’t know what to feel or if she was even allowed to feel what she was feeling. it was so different, so foreign, yet so intense that she couldn’t simply ignore it.

her eyes fell on the lighter you had given her, resting on the desk. she walked over to it, her fingers brushing against the cool metal before she picked it up. the weight of it felt heavier than it should have. slowly, she flicked it on, watching as the small flame danced before her eyes. it moved with a life of its own, flickering and swaying in the dim light of the room. she found herself staring at it, mesmerized and aggravated by how something so small could feel so mocking, so reminiscent of the very thing she’d been running from.

she didn’t notice how long she had been standing there, lost in thought, until the flame went out. blinking in surprise, she turned to find you standing in the doorway, a soft smile on your face. “you’re gonna burn yourself,” you chided gently, stepping into the room.

joohyun smiled back, setting the lighter down with a sense of relief she couldn’t quite explain. “guess i got a little lost in thought,” she murmured, almost to herself.

you settled into bed, the air between you thick with unspoken words. the silence that followed was heavy, not with discomfort, but with something more—a tension that neither of you fully understood, yet neither could deny. joohyun found herself staring at your back, as if waiting for something, anything, to happen. when you finally turned to face her, your eyes met, and neither of you could look away.

she broke the silence first, her voice barely more than a whisper. “how did you know?” she paused, her gaze searching yours before she finished, “how did you know you liked girls?”

the question caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat as the weight of her words settled over you. you felt your chest tighten, your breath quickening as you processed what she was asking. “i don’t know,” you whispered back, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “i think i always knew.” joohyun let your words sink in, turning them over in her mind as she tried to make sense of her own thoughts. she had been thinking deeply about herself, about the feelings she had been trying to ignore. “why do you ask?” you countered gently, your voice drawing her back to the present.

for a long moment, she remained silent, her eyes never leaving yours. she was trying to gather her thoughts, to find the right words, but when she finally spoke, it wasn’t what you had expected to hear. it wasn’t what she had expected to say. “can i kiss you?” the words tumbled out, her voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough to break the silence.

your heart pounded in your chest, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. her question hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you didn’t know how to react. your breathing became shallow, your skin tingling with anticipation as you processed what she was asking. silently, you nodded, giving her the permission she didn’t even know she needed.

she hesitated, her own breath hitching as she moved closer, the space between you disappearing with each inch. when she was so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off her, your eyes fluttered shut, and then her lips were on yours. the kiss was soft, tentative at first, but as soon as your lips touched, it felt familiar, as though you’d done this a thousand times before in some other life. it felt right, in a way that nothing else had for a long time.

you kissed her back, your lips moving against hers in an almost perfect embrace. there was a tenderness to it, a vulnerability that neither of you had shown before, and it made the moment all the more profound. her hand trembled as it came up to cup your cheek, her touch light but filled with emotion. you latched onto her wrist, your fingers gently caressing the soft skin there as you deepened the kiss, letting yourself get lost in the sensation.

when she finally pulled back, her breath was shaky, her heart racing in her chest. your eyes fluttered open, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. it was something you had been longing for, dreaming of, and now that it was happening, you didn’t know how to feel. “was that okay?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with uncertainty.

she nodded, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “i liked it,” she admitted, her voice soft, but the sincerity in her words was undeniable.

a laugh bubbled up from within you, light and airy, as you watched her, your heart swelling with a mix of relief and happiness. joohyun frowned, her smile faltering slightly as she asked, “what? what’s so funny?” your laughter only grew, your shoulders shaking as you tried to calm yourself down. “am i a bad kisser?” she demanded, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice, though there was no real anger behind it.

you shook your head, your laughter dying down to a soft chuckle. “the worst,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. ahe scoffed, rolling her eyes despite the smile that tugged at her lips. she turned her back to you, feigning annoyance, but there was a lightness to her movements that hadn’t been there before. you let your head hit the pillow, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to you. but as you lay there, something within you urged you to move closer.

tentatively, you scooted closer to her, your heart pounding in your chest as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind. you could feel her stiffen at the unexpected touch, her breath hitching in her throat. for a moment, you wondered if you had made a mistake, if maybe this was too much, too soon. but then she relaxed, her body melting into yours as she scooted back, letting you hold her.

in the quiet of the night, with the world outside your room forgotten, you held each other, letting the warmth of the moment seep into your bones. it felt natural, as if this was where you both were meant to be all along. the worries, the confusion, the uncertainty—they all faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of her breathing and the comforting weight of her body against yours. and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

when joohyun woke up, the world felt softer, quieter, as if the night had wrapped her in a cocoon of peace she hadn’t experienced in a long time. the weight of your arm still draped over her waist was a comforting reminder that she wasn’t alone, and it made her heart ache with a strange mixture of warmth and longing. it had been the best sleep she’d had in what felt like forever, and she almost regretted that it had to end.

she shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, but the movement was enough to stir you from sleep. your eyes fluttered open, heavy with the remnants of dreams, and you murmured a soft, “good morning,” as you pulled away from her. the space you left behind was cold, leaving her with an emptiness she hadn’t anticipated. “morning,” she replied, her voice still thick with sleep, as she rolled over to face the nightstand.

she reached for her phone, her fingers brushing against the cool surface before she turned it on. the light from the screen illuminated her face in the dim room, casting a soft glow over her features. you watched her quietly, noticing the way her eyes scanned the screen with a sort of resigned anticipation, as if she was bracing herself for something.

her gaze settled on a message, and her expression shifted, something unreadable crossing her features. “my dad texted me,” she announced quietly, the words heavy despite their simplicity. you leaned over, curiosity piqued, your heart fluttering with a sense of unease. “what did he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to gauge her reaction.

she opened the message, her eyes narrowing slightly as she read the words. “he wants me to come to church with him today,” she said, her tone neutral, as if she was still processing the request herself.

the gravity of it all hit you, the weight of what that meant hanging between you like a shadow. you knew how much she had been struggling, how deeply her mother’s passing had affected her, and the thought of her stepping back into a place that held so many memories, both good and bad, made your heart ache for her. but joohyun seemed almost detached, as if the request didn’t faze her as much as you thought it would.

“why?” you asked quietly, the word slipping out before you could stop yourself.

ahe didn’t answer right away, her eyes still fixed on the screen as she read through the rest of the messages. “he thinks it’ll help with my mom’s passing,” she finally said, her voice soft, almost distant.

the ache in your heart intensified, a deep, gnawing pain that you tried to push down. how could you discourage her from that? how could you tell her not to do something that might help her heal, even if it meant walking into a place that held so much significance? you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile as you murmured, “maybe it’ll help.”

joohyun seemed to consider this, her eyes searching yours as if she was looking for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just understanding. after a moment, she turned her gaze back to the phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. “would you come with me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she was afraid of your answer.

your breath caught in your throat. you hadn’t been to a church since you were a child, the memories of it fuzzy and distant, like a half-forgotten dream. the idea of going back, of stepping into a place that felt so foreign now, made your heart race with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. but when you looked at her, at the way she seemed so lost, so vulnerable, you knew you couldn’t say no. you saw the hurt in her eyes, the pain that she was still carrying with her, and you couldn’t bear the thought of her facing that alone.

so, you nodded, the decision made before you even realized it. “of course,” you said, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded in your chest. “i’ll go with you.” the relief in her eyes was immediate, her shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted off of her. she gave you a small, grateful smile, and for a moment, the tension between you eased, replaced by something warmer, something more intimate. “thank you,” she murmured, her hand reaching out to take yours, squeezing it gently.

you found yourself sitting in the back seat of joohyun's car, feeling the tension in the air grow as you approached the church. it was a place you hadn’t stepped foot in for years, and the mere thought of entering it now made your stomach churn with unease. the idea of being surrounded by people who might judge you for who you were, for who you loved, left you feeling vulnerable in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

joohyun’s father greeted you both at the entrance, his face lighting up when he saw you. “there’s my other daughter,” he said warmly, pulling you into a tight hug. you hugged him back, the familiarity of his embrace momentarily easing the tension in your chest. when you pulled away, you offered your condolences, your voice soft and sincere.

“i’m so sorry for your loss,” you murmured, your eyes meeting his. the grief in his gaze was palpable, but he smiled at you, appreciating the sentiment. “thank you,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “it means a lot that you’re here.”

as you walked into the church, you felt a wave of discomfort wash over you. the space was grand, with high ceilings and stained-glass windows that bathed the room in a kaleidoscope of colors. the air was thick with incense, the smell overpowering as it filled your lungs. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t belong here, that you were an outsider in a place where everyone else seemed to fit perfectly. the church was foreign to you, and every step you took felt like it was magnified, echoing in the silence of the sacred space.

you and joohyun found a seat near the middle, close enough to see the priest clearly but far enough to feel slightly removed from the intensity of it all. you sat down, trying to steady your breathing, and glanced over at joohyun. she looked serene, calm even, as if this was just another day, but you could see the underlying tension in the way her hands fidgeted with the edge of her dress. you offered her a warm smile, hoping to provide some comfort, and she returned it, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

the service began, the priest’s voice ringing out clearly in the large space, amplified by the acoustics of the room. he spoke of loss, of the pain that comes with it, and the need to find solace in faith. his words were gentle at first, meant to soothe, to offer comfort to those who were grieving. “we are all familiar with the ache of loss,” he said, his voice carrying through the church. “but it is in our darkest moments that we must turn to god, to seek his guidance, for he is the one who will lead us to the light.”

as he spoke, you felt your heart ache for joohyun, knowing how deeply she had been hurt, how much she was struggling to find that light. without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on top of hers, squeezing gently in a silent gesture of support. she looked down at your hand, her fingers slowly wrapping around yours, and she squeezed back, intertwining your fingers with hers. the simple touch grounded you both, a small anchor in the sea of uncertainty that surrounded you.

the priest continued, his words growing more intense, more insistent as he spoke of the need to obey god’s will, to follow his path no matter how difficult it might seem. “the trials we face are but a small price to pay for the paradise that awaits us,” he said, his voice firm. “to obey god, to live according to his commandments, is to guarantee a place in his kingdom, where there is no more pain, no more suffering.”

you felt joohyun stiffen beside you, her grip on your hand loosening until she let go entirely. the sudden absence of her touch left you feeling cold, a void opening up between you that you hadn’t anticipated. you pulled your hand back, your heart breaking as you watched her focus intently on the priest, her eyes fixed on him as if she was hanging on to every word. she seemed mesmerized, lost in the promise of salvation, of finding peace through obedience.

for a moment, you felt a pang of resentment, a bitter taste in your mouth as you listened to the priest’s words. how could someone be expected to pay such a price? to deny themselves, to live in fear of who they were, just to be accepted into paradise? the thought made your chest tighten, a silent protest forming in your mind. god loves you, you thought bitterly, but not enough to save you.

the rest of the service passed in a blur, the priest’s words fading into the background as you struggled with your own thoughts. joohyun remained quiet, her gaze never leaving the front of the church, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind. was she finding comfort in the priest’s words? did she believe them? and if she did, where did that leave you?

when the service finally ended, the congregation began to disperse, the sound of shuffling feet and hushed whispers filling the air. you stood up slowly, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile as joohyun’s father approached. “you did well,” he said, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on her shoulder. she nodded, a small, tight-lipped smile on her face, but she didn’t say anything. he turned to you, his expression warm as he added, “thank you for being here. it means more than you know.”

you nodded, offering him a small smile in return, but the words felt hollow. all you could think about was the space that had opened up between you and joohyun, the distance that seemed to have grown in such a short amount of time.

as you left the church, the air outside felt cooler, fresher, but it did little to ease the heaviness in your chest. joohyun walked beside you, her steps slow and measured, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at her, searching for any sign of what she was feeling. but her face was unreadable, her thoughts hidden behind a mask of composure. you reached the car in silence, the only sound the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet. she unlocked the doors, and you both got in, the silence between you thick and oppressive. as she started the engine, you glanced at her, wanting to say something, anything, to bridge the gap that had formed between you. but the words wouldn’t come.

the days following the church service felt like you were slowly losing something you didn’t quite know how to name. joohyun’s behavior shifted, subtle at first, but the changes grew more pronounced with each passing day. it was as if the moment in church had planted something in her mind, something that took root and began to grow, twisting its way through her thoughts, altering them, changing her in ways that left you feeling adrift.

it started with her eyes. the way they no longer found yours, no longer lingered on your face with that quiet, thoughtful intensity. before, there had been moments when you’d catch her looking at you, her gaze softening as if she was seeing something she didn’t fully understand but wanted to. now, her eyes skimmed over you, barely registering your presence, as if the act of looking at you was too much, too difficult. it was like she was afraid of what she might find if she let herself look too closely, so she kept her distance, both physically and emotionally.

her touch, too, became something of the past. where once she had hesitated only to give in, to seek the comfort of your presence, to let her hand linger on your arm or her fingers brush against yours, now there was a deliberate space between you. it was as if nothing had ever happened, as if the kiss you shared was a figment of your imagination, a fleeting dream that faded in the harsh light of day. she no longer reached for you, no longer found excuses to be close, and the absence of her touch felt like a loss you couldn’t quite put into words. it was a quiet withdrawal, a silent pulling away, and it left you feeling like you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t see but feared falling into.

the silence between you was different now, heavier, filled with unspoken words and unacknowledged fears. and when she did speak, it was often to break that silence with facts you hadn’t asked for, facts about religion and god that seemed to come out of nowhere, yet you knew exactly where they were coming from. “did you know,” she would begin, her voice too casual, too light, “that the bible says god will forgive any sin if you truly repent?” or, “did you know that people used to believe you could cure sickness by praying hard enough?”

you didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to tell her that you didn’t want to hear these things, that they only served to widen the gap between you. so, you stayed quiet, nodding when she spoke, letting her words wash over you even as they made your heart ache. it felt like she was trying to convince herself of something, trying to find solace in these facts, trying to believe that there was a way to fix whatever it was she thought was broken.

then, she started praying. it was a quiet, almost secretive thing at first, something she did in the privacy of her room or in the stillness of the morning when she thought you were asleep. but you heard her, the soft murmur of her voice as she whispered her prayers, the way her words were tinged with desperation, with a longing you couldn’t quite place. and then one day, you heard her say it aloud, her voice trembling with emotion. “i want to be cured,” she said, her words hanging in the air like a plea.

you didn’t know what she was referring to, didn’t know if she meant the grief over her mother or something else entirely. but the way she said it, the way her voice cracked on the word “cured,” sent a chill through you. you wanted to reach out to her, to ask her what she meant, to offer her comfort, but something in the way she spoke, in the way she seemed so lost in her thoughts, stopped you. all you could do was listen in silence, watching her as she prayed for something you couldn’t give her, something that felt like it was slipping further out of reach with every passing day.

the lighter became her constant companion, a small, seemingly insignificant object that she kept with her at all times. you would see her sitting at the piano, her fingers absentmindedly flicking the lighter on and off, the small flame dancing in front of her as if mocking her, taunting her with its ephemeral nature. you noticed how her eyes would fixate on the flame, how she seemed almost hypnotized by it, as if it held some kind of answer she was searching for. and then one day, you saw her burn herself.

it happened so quickly, so quietly, that at first you didn’t even realize what had happened. ahe was sitting at the piano, the lighter in her hand as usual, when the flame touched her skin. there was a small hiss, the smell of burnt flesh, and you gasped, your heart leaping into your throat. but she didn’t react. she didn’t even flinch. she just sat there, staring at the small burn on her hand as if it were nothing, as if it didn’t hurt. you didn’t know if it had been an accident or if she had done it on purpose, but the way she remained so calm, so detached, made your blood run cold.

when she played the piano now, there was no emotion in it, no feeling, no passion. the notes were correct, the technique flawless, but there was something missing, something vital that had once been there but was now lost. the music felt empty, hollow, like a shell of what it used to be. it was as if she was going through the motions, playing the notes because she knew them, not because she felt them. and every time you heard her play, it broke your heart a little more, because you knew how much the piano had once meant to her, how much joy it had brought her. but now, it was just another thing that had been tainted, another thing that had been lost in the wake of whatever it was she was going through.

you wanted to fix it, to fix her, to bring her back to the person she used to be, the person who had smiled at you, who had kissed you, who had held your hand. but the more you tried, the more it felt like she was slipping away, like she was fading into something you couldn’t reach, something you couldn’t save. and you didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to hold on to something that was already broken. because when something breaks, you’re supposed to let go of it, to move on, to find something new. but you couldn’t. all you wanted to do was fix it, to fix her, to make everything right again. but the more you tried, the more it hurt, and the less it showed.

the days had grown longer, more drawn out, and more painful, as joohyun drifted further away from the person you once knew. it was late in the afternoon when she finally mentioned the bonfire party. her voice was flat, almost disinterested, as if she was announcing something mundane, like a change in the weather. “there’s a bonfire party by the sea tonight,” she said, not even looking up from the lighter she had been fiddling with.

you glanced up from where you were sitting, a pang of worry twisting in your chest. the idea of a bonfire, of flames and alcohol mixed with the volatile state she had been in lately, sent alarms ringing through your mind. “maybe it isn’t a good idea to go,” you suggested carefully, trying to keep your voice steady. “the fire, it might provoke you even more.”

but joohyun paid no mind to your concern. ahe shrugged, a faint, almost bitter smile playing on her lips as she slipped the lighter into her pocket. “i’m fine,” she insisted, her voice cold, distant. “we’re going. it’ll be fun.” her insistence made your heart sink. she had been drawn to all the wrong things lately, claiming that she was on the right path, that she knew what she was doing, but you both knew that wasn’t true. there was a coldness in her now, a recklessness that hadn’t been there before. she clung to the lighter like a lifeline, a small object that had once meant something, had once been a reminder of who she was. but now, it was just another piece of who she had lost.

you knew it was useless to argue, so you sighed and nodded, deciding to go with her. maybe if you were there, you could keep her safe, keep her from doing something she would regret. the night air was cool as you walked down to the beach together, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the silence between you. the sky was dark, the stars barely visible through the haze of clouds, and the smell of salt and seaweed filled the air.

the bonfire was already roaring by the time you arrived, a towering inferno of orange and red that cast long shadows across the sand. people were gathered around it, laughing, talking, drinking, the flickering light playing across their faces. you felt out of place, like you didn’t belong here, like the fire was too bright, too intense. but joohyun walked forward without hesitation, drawn to the flames like a moth, her eyes fixed on the fire as if it held some kind of answer she was searching for.

you followed her, your heart heavy with worry as you watched her grab a drink and down it quickly, almost desperately. she was drinking more than you had thought she would, more than you had ever seen her drink before. the sight of it made you uneasy, and you reached out to gently touch her arm. “joo,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “maybe you shouldn’t drink so much.”

ahe brushed off your concern with a careless wave of her hand, not even bothering to look at you. “i’m fine,” she repeated, her words slurred slightly, the alcohol already beginning to take hold. she took another drink, and you bit your lip, watching her closely, trying to keep an eye on her, to make sure she didn’t go too far.

as the night wore on, you could tell she had had too much. you could see it in the way her movements became sluggish, her steps unsteady, and the way her arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in close. you stiffened at the touch, your heart skipping a beat as you felt her warmth against you. you could smell the alcohol on her breath, sharp and pungent, and you knew that this wasn’t her, not really. it was the alcohol, the numbness she was trying to find at the bottom of the bottle.

but maybe, maybe it wasn’t. maybe this was what she wanted, maybe this was what she felt deep down, beneath the layers of confusion and pain. you wanted so desperately to believe it, to believe that this was real, that it wasn’t just the alcohol talking. so, you eased into her touch, letting your head rest against her shoulder, letting yourself pretend, just for a moment, that everything was okay, that she was still yours, that she still loved you, if she ever had.

you watched the fire together, the flames dancing and crackling, the heat of it warming your skin. but as you glanced up at her, you saw the way her eyes stared into the fire, hazy with alcohol, empty and distant. it was like she was somewhere else, lost in her own thoughts, her own pain. then, without warning, she pulled out the lighter again, flicking it on and off, the small flame dancing in front of her, taunting her, mocking her.

you had had enough. you leaned down and blew out the flame, your voice sharp and edged with frustration as you whispered, “one more time, joohyun. one more time, and you’ll die.”

she scoffed, but there was no humor in it, only a bitter resignation. she tucked the lighter away, her movements slow and deliberate, but she kept her arm around you, and you kept your head on her shoulder. you stayed like that as the party slowly began to die down, people leaving in pairs or small groups, until it was just the two of you left, the fire burning low, the night growing colder.

it was what you needed, the solitude, the quiet, just the two of you. but it wasn’t what you wanted. not like this. not with her so far away, so lost in her own darkness. you wanted to reach out to her, to pull her back, to tell her that it was okay, that you were still here, that you loved her. but you didn’t know how. you didn’t know if it would even matter. and then, she turned to face you, her eyes locking onto yours. your heart broke for her in that moment, seeing the pain, the confusion, the emptiness in her gaze. but you said nothing, the words stuck in your throat, your voice lost to the night.

she leaned in, her breath warm against your skin, and before you could react, before you could stop her, she kissed you. it was sudden, unexpected, and it sent a shock of electricity through your body. for a moment, you froze, unsure of what to do, unsure of what this meant. but then you gave in, your eyes fluttering shut as you kissed her back, your heart pounding in your chest.

her lips were soft, familiar, but there was a desperation to the kiss, a hunger that hadn’t been there before. it was as if she was trying to find something in you, something to hold on to, something to save her from herself. you kissed her back, your hand reaching up to cup her cheek, to pull her closer, to keep her from slipping away. “don’t do that,” you murmured against her lips, your voice cold, laced with fear and anger and something you couldn’t quite name. “god will see.”

she didn’t respond, didn’t pull away. Instead, she kissed you harder, her fingers tangling in your hair, her body pressing against yours. it was desperate, it was reckless, but it was all you had, all she had. if god was watching, if he was there, why did she feel so lonely? why did you?

the fire crackled beside you, the flames dying down, the night growing colder. but in that moment, nothing else mattered. all that mattered was her, and the way her lips felt against yours, the way she held on to you as if you were the only thing keeping her from falling apart. and maybe you were. but even as you kissed her, even as you let yourself get lost in her, you knew that it wasn’t enough. it would never be enough.

the drive back home was suffocating in its silence, the kind that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, unraveling everything you had tried to keep together. the hum of the engine filled the void between you, and the rhythmic blink of the passing streetlights played across joohyun’s face, casting fleeting shadows that deepened the hollowness in her eyes. she stared out the window, her face expressionless, as if the night had drained her of everything she once was.

you kept your eyes on the road, your hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turned white. the kiss still lingered on your lips, a bitter reminder of what had happened by the fire. you wanted to speak, to say something that would break the tension, the uncertainty, the fear that had settled between you like an unwelcome guest. but the words wouldn’t come. you were afraid they might shatter whatever fragile connection you had left.

the drive felt endless, each minute stretching into eternity, but eventually, you pulled into the driveway, the car coming to a slow stop. joohyun made no move to get out, and for a moment, neither did you. you sat there in the darkness, the only sound the ticking of the cooling engine, the silence growing heavier with each passing second. finally, you sighed and unbuckled your seatbelt, opening the door and stepping out into the cool night air.

she followed you wordlessly, her movements slow, deliberate, as if she was moving through a dream. you unlocked the door and stepped inside, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved. you barely had time to close the door behind you before she was on you, her hands fisting in the fabric of your jacket as she pulled you in for a kiss.

it was different from the one by the fire, more intense, more desperate. she kissed you with a fervor that bordered on madness, her lips bruising against yours as if she was trying to drown out the world, to forget everything that had happened, everything that she was. your mind screamed at you to stop, to push her away, to tell her that this wasn’t right, that she wasn’t in her right mind. but your heart, traitorous and weak, told you to give in, to let her have this moment, to give her whatever she needed because you loved her.

you hesitated for a moment, your mind and heart warring within you, but when she bit down on your lower lip, a small, needy sound escaping her throat, you found yourself giving in. you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss as if you could somehow fuse your souls together, as if that could make everything better, could make everything make sense.

she broke the kiss only long enough to grab your hand, pulling you toward the stairs with a determination that left you breathless. you followed her, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind reeling from the intensity of it all. each step felt heavier than the last, your resolve crumbling with every passing second as you fought against the voice in your head that told you to stop, to say something, to pull away.

but you couldn’t. not when she was looking at you like that, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name, something raw and desperate. she led you upstairs, her hand trembling slightly as she pushed open the door to her room. the moment you stepped inside, she was on you again, her lips crashing against yours as if she was afraid that if she let go, you would disappear.

your back hit the wall, and she pressed her body against yours, her hands moving to tangle in your hair, pulling you down for another searing kiss. you wanted to fight it, to tell her that this wasn’t right, that this wasn’t the way to fix what was broken between you. but you couldn’t find the strength to push her away. not when you loved her so much, not when you had been longing for her touch, her kiss, for so long.

she kissed you like she was trying to consume you, like she was trying to erase everything that had happened, everything that had been said, and you let her. you let her take what she needed, let her use you to fill the void inside her, because you knew that this was all you could give her now. you knew that once the night was over, once the passion had faded, she would go back to being distant, cold, unreachable. but for now, in this moment, she was yours, and you were hers, and that was enough.

you kissed her back with just as much intensity, your hands moving to hold her close, to keep her from slipping away from you. you poured all your love, all your pain, all your desperation into that kiss, trying to convey everything you couldn’t put into words. she responded in kind, her body trembling against yours as she kissed you with a fierceness that left you breathless.

you stumbled back toward the bed, your lips never leaving hers as you fell onto the mattress together. she moved over you, her hands roaming over your body with a desperation that sent shivers down your spine. you arched into her touch, your own hands tracing the contours of her body, memorizing every curve, every dip, every part of her that you loved so much.

when she kissed you again, it was slower, softer, as if she was savoring the moment, as if she was trying to make it last. you kissed her back, your hands cupping her face as you looked into her eyes, searching for something, anything, that would tell you that this was real, that this meant something. but her eyes were guarded, her expression unreadable, and it made your heart ache.

she pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breath ragged as she whispered your name, her voice filled with a longing that broke you all over again. you wanted to say something, to tell her that you loved her, that you would always love her, no matter what. but the words stuck in your throat, and all you could do was kiss her again, hoping that she understood, hoping that she knew.

you reached down to unbutton her shirt, her skin hot and smooth beneath your fingertips. she helped you, her eyes never leaving yours as she peeled the fabric away, revealing the soft mounds of her breasts. you took one in your hand, feeling the weight of it, the warmth of her, the way her nipple hardened under your touch. she gasped, her eyes fluttering closed, and you took that as your cue to lean down and kiss her, to tease her nipple with your tongue until she was arching into you, her hands tightening in your hair.

you felt her hand slide down between your legs, her fingers tracing the line of your panties, and you knew she could feel how wet you were, how much you wanted her. you moaned against her neck, your hips bucking involuntarily. she smiled, a knowing smile that made your stomach flip. you pushed the negative thoughts aside, focusing instead on the way her hand felt against you, the way she was making you feel. you let your own hand slide down to her pants, undoing the button and zipper with trembling fingers. you slipped your hand inside, feeling the heat of her, the dampness of her underwear. she was just as eager as you, and that was all that mattered right now.

you pulled her closer, grinding against her, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. she groaned, her hand moving to match your rhythm, her other hand sliding up to cup your breast. you could feel yourself getting closer, your body tightening, your breath hitching. you didn’t know how much longer you could take this, how much longer you could keep pretending that everything was okay, that this was what you both wanted.

you reached down to pull her pants off, your own following shortly after. you lay there, in the darkness, skin to skin, heart to heart, your bodies intertwined as you kissed and touched each other with a passion that was almost painful. it was as if you were trying to hold on to something that was slipping through your fingers, something that was never truly yours to begin with.

you felt her hand move between your legs, her fingers delving into your wetness, exploring you with a hunger that left you breathless. you gasped, your hips rising to meet her touch as she began to rub slow circles around your clit. you reached down to do the same to her, feeling the slickness of her arousal, the heat of her desire.

the room was spinning, the only anchor in the darkness her eyes, locked on yours, her pupils dilated with lust. your breath mingled, your hearts pounded in sync as you both lost yourself in the moment. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on to the facade, the lie that this was just two friends sharing a drunken mistake, that it didn’t mean anything more.

you pushed aside the thoughts, focusing instead on the feel of her, the taste of her, the sound of her breath hitching as you slid a finger inside her. she was tight, so tight, and so wet. you felt a thrill of power, of need, knowing that you could make her feel this way, knowing that she was just as lost in this as you were. you kissed her again, deep and needy, as you felt her hand slip down to mirror your own movements, her finger sliding into you, filling you, stretching you. you moaned into her mouth, the pleasure building, coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to consume you.

you rolled over, breaking the kiss, and pulled her on top of you, wrapping your legs around her hips. she sat up, straddling you, her breasts bouncing gently as she began to rock against your hand. you watched her, the flicker of the dying fire casting shadows across her face, her eyes half-closed in ecstasy. it was the most beautiful, heartbreaking thing you had ever seen.

you reached up to cup her breasts, feeling the weight of them in your hands, your thumbs teasing her nipples as she moved against you. she leaned down, her breath hot against your neck as she whispered, “don’t tell anyone, okay? i’m not—i’m not like that. i don’t do this.”

you nodded, your heart breaking a little more with each word. you didn’t care what she said, what she thought. all you knew was that you loved her, and this was what she needed, what you both needed, for now. so you held on, you gave her what she wanted, you let her use you as she sought refuge in the one place she thought she could never be found. you felt the tension building in her body, her muscles tensing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. you knew she was close, so close. you curled your fingers inside her, finding that perfect spot, and she let out a cry, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm.

you held her as she came down, her head resting on your shoulder, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. for a moment, you felt like everything was right in the world, like the universe had aligned and all was well. but when she pulled away, her eyes filled with tears, you knew that wasn’t true.

she rolled off you, onto her back, her chest heaving with the aftermath of pleasure and pain. she was crying, silent tears that rolled down her cheeks and into the pillow. you reached out to wipe them away, but she flinched, her eyes snapping open to look at you.

“i don’t wanna go to hell,” she whispered, her voice thick with regret. “i don’t wanna burn.”

you swallowed hard, your own eyes burning with unshed tears. you knew it was a mistake for her, that she didn’t love you the way you loved her. but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, to acknowledge the truth that was staring you in the face. so instead, you kissed her again, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could change her mind, that maybe she would see what you saw, feel what you felt. but she didn’t. she pulled away, sitting up and reaching for her clothes. you watched her, your heart in your throat, as she dressed in the darkness, her movements jerky and frantic. she didn’t look at you as she left the room, leaving you alone with the dying embers of the fire and the cold, hard truth of what had just happened.

you curled up on the bed, pulling the covers around you, trying to hold in the sobs that threatened to escape. you told yourself it didn’t mean anything, that it was just a drunken mistake. but deep down, you knew it did. every touch, every kiss, every stroke of her hand over your skin had been a silent confession of love, a love that she was too afraid to admit, even to herself. you lay there in the darkness, the room spinning with a mix of emotions: passion, pain, and a love so strong it hurt. you felt empty without her, as if she had taken a piece of you with her when she left. the smell of her perfume lingered in the air, taunting you with memories of her touch. you wanted to call out to her, to tell her how much you loved her, but you knew it would only push her further away.

so you cried, letting the tears fall silently onto the pillow. you cried for the love you had lost, for the love you never had. you cried for the girl who was so lost in her own beliefs, her own fears, that she couldn’t see what was right in front of her. and you cried for yourself, for the girl who had given her heart away so easily, only to have it shattered in return.

you woke with tears in your eyes, but you didn’t notice them. what you did notice, as your consciousness gradually returned, was the empty space beside you. the sheets on joohyun’s side were cold, the pillow untouched, as if she had never been there at all. your heart sank at the sight, a hollow ache blooming in your chest. the events of the night before felt distant, like a dream that you desperately wanted to hold onto but was slipping through your fingers with each passing second.

you forced yourself to sit up, your body feeling heavier than usual, the weight of reality pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. you noticed a small piece of paper on her pillow, a note, its presence both alarming and foreboding. with trembling fingers, you picked it up, your breath catching in your throat as you unfolded it.

the words were simple, written in joohyun’s neat, delicate handwriting: “i’ve gone to church.”

the heartbreak hit you like a freight train, a pain so deep and all-encompassing that it threatened to drown you. your vision blurred, the tears you hadn’t realized were there spilling over and streaking down your cheeks. you wanted to scream, to cry out, to demand an explanation, but there was no one there to hear you. the silence in the room was deafening, the emptiness around you suffocating.

you moved through the motions of getting dressed as if on autopilot, your mind numb to everything but the ache in your chest. you pulled on your clothes with trembling hands, the fabric rough against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had felt the night before. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, the sight of your own tear-streaked face making your stomach churn. you looked like a ghost, a hollow shell of the person you had been, and you hated it.

you forced yourself to move to the kitchen, the routine of making coffee providing a small, temporary distraction from the storm raging inside you. the familiar scent filled the air, but it did nothing to calm your nerves, nothing to ease the pain that gnawed at your insides. you took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid, but it tasted like ash on your tongue. everything felt wrong, out of place, as if the world had shifted beneath your feet and you were left stumbling in the dark.

when you heard the door open, your heart skipped a beat, a rush of emotions flooding through you all at once. joohyun stepped inside, the soft click of the door shutting behind her echoing in the quiet house. for a moment, she just stood there, her eyes meeting yours from across the room. there was a flicker of something in her gaze, something that mirrored the turmoil in your own heart, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

neither of you said a word. the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, like a barrier you couldn’t break through. you wanted to ask her where she had been, what she was thinking, if she remembered what had happened between you the night before. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. the words were lodged in your throat, choked by the fear of what her answer might be.

days passed, and she grew colder, more distant with each one. she stopped looking at you the way she used to, stopped touching you, stopped asking for your touch. it was as if nothing had ever happened between you, as if the kisses, the whispered words, the warmth you had shared were nothing more than figments of your imagination. the only time she spoke was to break the silence with more random facts about religion, about god, as if she was trying to convince herself of something, as if she was trying to drown out whatever it was that haunted her.

the lighter she carried with her had become a constant companion, a small, seemingly insignificant object that had taken on a sinister presence in your lives. she flicked it on and off, the tiny flame dancing before her eyes as she stared at it with an intensity that frightened you. “joohyun, you can’t keep doing this,” you had pleaded one day, your voice trembling with the weight of your concern, your love, your desperation. “please, talk to me. tell me what’s going on.”

but she had pushed you away, her eyes cold, distant, a look of resignation on her face. “there’s nothing to talk about,” she had said, her voice flat, emotionless. “this is just the way things are now.”

“no, it’s not,” you had cried, your voice cracking with the intensity of your emotions. “we can fix this. we can—” but she had cut you off again, her tone final, unyielding. “there’s nothing to fix.”

and so the days passed, each one more painful than the last. you tried to hold on, tried to be there for her, tried to reach her, but every time you got close, she pushed you away. the more you loved her, the colder she became, until you were left with nothing but the empty shell of the person you once knew.

then, one day, you couldn’t take it anymore. the anger, the frustration, the heartbreak had built up to the point where it was suffocating, choking you, leaving you gasping for air. when she came back from church that day, you were waiting for her, your heart pounding in your chest, your emotions swirling inside you like a storm.

as she walked past you, her shoulder brushed against yours, a touch so brief and so cold that it felt like a slap in the face. you reached out, grabbing her hand, desperate to make her stop, to make her listen. “joohyun, please,” you begged, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

but she pulled her hand back, her eyes flashing with anger, with something darker that you couldn’t quite name. “don’t touch me,” she snapped, her voice cold, cutting. you felt the words like a punch to the gut, the pain so sharp, so intense that it left you breathless. “where did it all go wrong?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “how could you do this to me? to us?”

ahe shook her head, her eyes hard, unyielding. “i won’t give in,” she said, her voice steady, resolute. “i won’t taint my soul.”

the words were like a knife to your heart, the final, brutal blow that shattered whatever hope you had left. you should have prayed. prayed for her to come back to you, prayed for her to love you the way she used to, but you couldn’t. instead, you spoke the truth that had been burning inside you for so long. “you’re already tainted.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy, damning, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in her eyes. hurt, anger, regret—you couldn’t tell. but then her expression hardened, and before you could react, she punched you in the face. the force of the blow sent you stumbling back, pain exploding across your cheek, but you didn’t hit her back. you couldn’t. Instead, you reached out, clinging to her, pulling her into a hug, desperate to hold onto the last piece of her that was still yours.

for a moment, just a brief, fleeting moment, she softened in your arms. you felt it, the warmth that had been missing for so long, the connection that you had been longing for. but it was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, unyielding wall she had built around herself. she shoved you away, her eyes burning with a fury that terrified you, and she punched you again, harder this time, sending you crashing to the floor.

you wanted to fight back, wanted to hit her, scream at her, demand to know why she was doing this, but all you could do was reach for her again. when you saw it, the look in her eyes, the confirmation that she wasn’t herself anymore—that was when you gave in, when it was your fist’s turn to collide with her face. and it did, the force of it sending her flying backwards, but you couldn't bear the sight of her, your heart breaking with every breath you took. you pulled her into another hug, your arms wrapping around her like a lifeline, but she shoved you away with a force that left you breathless. she walked out of the house without another word, the door slamming behind her, leaving you lying on the floor, broken and bleeding, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you.

you walked aimlessly through the empty streets, the pain in your jaw a dull throb that seemed to echo with every step you took. the bruises were a physical manifestation of the heartbreak that had shattered you from the inside out. the day had bled into dusk, the sky a muted canvas of purples and blues, the fading light doing little to ease the darkness settling in your heart.

the world around you felt distant, as if you were drifting through a dream you couldn’t wake from. your mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions, each one more conflicting than the last. you wandered without purpose, each step heavy with a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you, leaving you feeling empty and hollow.

you barely noticed the bump against your shoulder, the sharp sting of it cutting through your daze. it was only when a group of girls appeared, their faces a blur of anger and disdain, that you began to register the reality of your situation. they grabbed you roughly, pulling you back into a narrow alleyway, their hands striking you with a force that felt almost detached from the pain you were already feeling.

you didn’t fight back. the instinct to defend yourself, to protect what little was left, had long since faded. you let the blows land, each one a reminder of your own helplessness, a cruel echo of the turmoil raging inside you. the cold brick wall pressed into your back, the texture of it rough and unyielding against your skin. blood dripped from your chin, mingling with the grime of the alleyway, but you simply let it fall.

they continued their assault, their voices a cacophony of angry shouts that blurred into the background noise of the city. You heard them, but their words felt distant, like they were coming from another world. the realization that you didn’t care anymore, that you were willing to let it all end, was almost a relief. the bruises and the blood were physical manifestations of a deeper, more profound pain—a pain that you had long since accepted as part of your existence.

eventually, the girls left, their anger spent, leaving you slumped against the wall, barely able to lift your head. the alleyway was silent again, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional murmur of voices from the street. you pushed yourself upright, the effort making your body ache even more, but you didn’t have the strength to stay on your feet. you wandered aimlessly until you reached the middle of the street, your movements slow and unsteady. the world around you was a blur, the streetlights casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the pavement. the light of an approaching car caught your eye, so vivid among the darkness that had engulfed you.

you turned your head, the light from the car seeming almost to beckon you, a final, fleeting hope that perhaps something might change. but before you could process the thought, you felt the impact, a sudden, jarring collision that sent you sprawling across the asphalt. the world went black, the pain and the cold merging into a numb void that swallowed you whole. in those final moments, as consciousness slipped away, you thought to yourself. the light of the car, so bright, so welcoming. had it not been for the car, for the collision, you would've aasumed it was god. you would've assumed that it was your turn to see the light, the one that led you to the right path. a glimmer of light, a brief flash of salvation that never truly materialized. you thought, perhaps, that it was god, or fate, or some form of cosmic justice finally reaching out to you. but if there was a higher power, if there was anyone watching over you, they had chosen not to intervene. you had been loved, you thought, but not enough to be saved.

joohyun paced through the house, the remnants of alcohol and broken memories scattered across the rooms like ghosts of a past she could no longer escape. she moved mechanically, her movements driven by a frantic need to impose order on a chaos that had seeped into her very being. the empty cups, the overturned bottles—she swept them away with a fervor that bordered on madness. maybe, she thought, if she cleaned up the mess around her, she could purge the turmoil inside her. the scent of your presence lingered in every corner, an indelible reminder of the love she had been too broken to embrace fully.

as she scrubbed the surfaces, the stench of stale alcohol mixed with the acrid tang of her own tears. the house, once a sanctuary of shared moments and quiet intimacy, now felt like a prison of her own making. the realization that you had left and had not come back struck her like a physical blow. the emptiness of the space was a constant reminder of her failure, a space filled with echoes of laughter and affection now gone silent.

in a fit of frustration, her emotions erupted violently. she slammed her hands onto the table, its sturdy surface buckling under the force of her anger. dishes clattered to the floor, their shards adding to the chaos that had taken over. she pulled at her hair, the disheveled strands a physical manifestation of the mess in her mind. ahe stumbled into your room, her breath coming in ragged gasps. the sight of the piano, the once-beautiful instrument that had been a source of solace and joy, filled her with a wave of guilt and rage. with a sob of anguish, she attacked the piano. her fists pounded against the keys, each strike producing a cacophony of dissonant notes that seemed to scream her sorrow. the sound of the keys breaking and the strings snapping was a mournful dirge, one that echoed her internal devastation.

eventually, the piano fell silent, its music stilled. joohyun collapsed onto the floor, her energy spent, her body trembling from the effort and the tears. she was surrounded by the debris of her actions, the fragments of the piano and the shattered remains of the table forming a grim tapestry around her. the realization that she had driven away the one person who had loved her enough to try to save her was a crushing weight on her chest.

her gaze fell upon the lighter, the object that had once been a symbol of her independence and now a grim reminder of her inability to cope. it was the same lighter you had given her, its initials faded but still recognizable. with a numb resignation, she found herself tearing the closet door open. she knew it held everything she needed, sooner or later. in this case, now.

it was the precise reason she took the red tank in her hands, unscrewing the cap and getting a whiff of the pungent stench. she didn’t hesitate as she poured the gasoline around the room, the liquid sloshing and hissing as it spread. the smell of it mingled with the lingering scent of the alcohol, creating a nauseating cocktail that filled the air.

she sat on your side of the bed, her eyes fixated on the lighter. for a moment, she held it in her hand, the metal cold and heavy. she felt as if she were waiting for a sign, for some miracle to pull her back from the edge, but none came. no one was coming to save her from the end she had chosen. she had ruined her life, and yours too. it was a final act of defiance against the pain that had consumed her.

with a shaky breath, she tossed the lighter into the pool of gasoline. the flames ignited almost immediately, a brilliant, consuming blaze that spread rapidly through the room. joohyun watched, her face illuminated by the fiery glow, the warmth of the flames a contrast to the cold despair that had enveloped her. as the fire grew, so did her sense of finality. the flames danced and roared, consuming everything in their path. she sat amidst the chaos, her eyes vacant as she let the fire spread. she had become the sinner she felt herself to be, and now she had a hell of her own making. the house, once a place of memories and love, was now a testament to her ultimate surrender.

even as the fire spread, she could still see you. as her skin began to grow warm, all it did was remind her of your touch. nothing could compare to it, not even when her life was on the line. she had tried to be good for so long, but everything had finally come to an end. she had dreamt of a heaven, just to live in a hell of her own. it made her sick, it made her stomach churn. maybe this was how her mother felt. alone, helpless. maybe she died without a care in the world. that was how joohyun wanted to go out, without any pressure. but even as she laid back onto the bed, her fingers caressing your side, there was nothing but pressure. it wasn't the pressure of the fire’s warmth, but of the bed’s coldness. your side was still cold, as if the fire had died down, but it didn’t. and it wouldn't.

she let the fire engulf her surroundings, the smoke curling around her like a shroud. she didn’t move, didn’t try to escape. she was beyond redemption, beyond saving. she had chosen her fate, and as the flames reached towards the ceiling, she finally accepted that no one could save her from herself.

✧.*

a/n: this is a work of fiction and i had not intended on, not in a single moment, offending anybody. with that being said, if anybody feels offended by any aspect, let me know and the story will be deleted

[igwb]

drabble.

25 July, Year 22.

you can find the whole fic here!♡

Jungkook had always been blinded by hope, his innocence and naivety leading him forward even when the world kept proving him wrong.

He truly believed that growing older would change him—that time would somehow fix the cracks inside him. But now, at twenty-two, he realized he was still the same broken boy he had always been.

Turning twenty-two had terrified him for as long as he could remember. It meant he had lived longer than him. Longer than Min Yoongi. The thought left a bitter taste on his tongue, one he couldn’t shake off, no matter how much he tried—no matter how much alcohol burned against his throat, failing to drown out the weight of it.

He really hated alcohol.

The sour, burning taste always dragged him back to that night—to the last time he saw his face. The heavy stench on his breath, suffocating and sharp, still clung to Jungkook’s memory like a scar that wouldn’t fade. Every sip, every bitter swallow, only reminded him of how it felt to have those words, cruel and laced with regret, thrown at him—before Yoongi burned alive, swallowed by the very flames that took him away.

But lately, it seemed like alcohol was the only thing that could quiet his thoughts.

Because despite everything—despite how much better he thought he was doing—there was still an emptiness in his chest, something missing. Someone missing. A bond severed three years ago, leaving behind a wound that never really healed.

At first, he convinced himself he was okay. He fought blindly, for himself, for Yoongi, fueled by a force so intense it felt almost euphoric. Like he was running toward something bigger, something meaningful—like he could become one of the heroes he used to admire.

But euphoria never lasts.

For a year and a half, he had been lost in that illusion, high on the idea that if he just kept going, just kept fighting, then maybe—just maybe—he could make it all mean something.

And then reality hit. Hard.

Yoongi wasn’t coming back.

Yoongi was dead.

His body was nothing more than ashes, sealed away in an urn Jungkook knew too well. And no matter how much time passed, no matter how much he tried to move forward, he realized the truth—he wasn’t healed. Not even close.

He felt so guilty.

Here he was, drinking alcohol in an empty garage with some older boys he thought were cool. He followed them, hoping to fit in, hoping that maybe if he acted like them, did reckless things like they did, he could somehow feel cool enough, like he mattered. But the guilt sat heavy in his chest. He hated this feeling, the deep-rooted sense that he didn’t belong here, that this wasn’t him, wasn’t who he wanted to be.

Jungkook had gotten bolder, yes. He wasn’t the same scared kid people used to target. He could blend in, make friends like the ones around him now. But inside, he was so detached.

He didn’t talk in situations like this. He was just there. Existing, but not really living. His body was present, but his soul? That felt like it had been gone for years.

When had it left?

He didn’t know. But somewhere, back in that stupid motel three years ago, it felt like it had slipped away for good.

For the first time in three years, Jungkook didn’t go to the columbarium on March 9th. He didn’t bring Yoongi one of those lighters that reminded him so much of his brother. And now, sitting on a chair in this garage, he could only feel disgusted with himself. If he could see himself from the outside, he would throw punches at his own reflection, beat it until blood stained his face. It had been a long time since he had taken a beating like that, since he had felt that raw sense of release.

His father didn’t find it funny anymore, not now that Jungkook had found the strength to stand up for himself. The bullies, too, had stopped coming around. They knew better than to try.

But still, there was something about it that he missed. As masochistic as it might sound, he longed for that punishment. The feeling of pain, of being struck down for something he hadn’t even done—it made him feel something. Anything. Right now, he needed that kind of release. A violent one. Because for the first time in years of devotion to Yoongi, he had failed him. He had let him down, and the guilt felt like it was suffocating him.

He needed something to hurt. Maybe then he’d feel like he could breathe again.

That’s how Jungkook found himself in that place, his back pressed against the cold, harsh garage door, one of his so-called friends’ arm tightening around his throat, forcing him to stay still. He had started the whole thing over something as stupid as throwing a full bottle on the ground. The guy, clearly as intoxicated as he was, couldn’t believe his eyes. In the blink of an eye, Jungkook was slammed against the door, pinned by the weight of the other boy.

“The fuck is your problem?” The words came out slurred, the guy’s breath warm against his face, before he threw the first punch. It landed hard on Jungkook’s cheek.

“Stupid weird shit,” the guy muttered as he pulled his fist back, ready for another swing.

Weird. It was a word Jungkook hadn’t heard in a long time, a word that dug into him like it always did back in high school. It was the word that people used when they wanted to make him feel like an outcast, like his very existence made them sick. He could still remember the way they’d say it, how they’d look at him with disgust as if his very bones weren’t like theirs.

Jungkook didn’t even try to defend himself. He allowed them to hit him, his body tossed around like a ragdoll, each punch landing harder than the last. The boys didn’t even need to speak—there was an unspoken challenge between them: who could throw the hardest punch, who could make him feel the most pain. Jungkook was nothing more than a toy to them, a lifeless puppet, giving himself over to whatever they dished out. It didn’t matter. The pain wasn’t what he cared about. It was the emptiness that filled him, that desire to feel something, anything, because the weight of his guilt crushed him from the inside out. He deserved it.

He had failed Yoongi. He could have saved him, Jungkook was sure of it. In some way, he could have. If only, back then, he hadn’t been so naive, so desperate, so obsessed with Yoongi. If only he hadn’t been so consumed with wanting to protect him. Maybe then Yoongi wouldn’t have been scared away by his innocent love. Maybe he wouldn’t have pushed him away.

And maybe, if he hadn’t tried so hard to make Yoongi care for him, to make Yoongi see him as someone worth protecting, he wouldn’t have felt the unbearable weight of loss now.

Jungkook was sure that if that night, he had fought back just a little bit more—if he hadn’t let his fear get the best of him, if he hadn’t acted like a helpless kid—maybe Yoongi wouldn’t have felt like he had to erase himself, to disappear, just to protect him. Maybe Yoongi wouldn’t have carried that burden alone, thinking that by pushing him away, he’d be sparing him from the hurt.

Jungkook couldn’t shake the feeling that, in some twisted way, he had been the one to kill Min Yoongi. That he had somehow forced him into making that decision. It gnawed at him, the thought that his actions—or inactions—had been the final push, the thing that had made Yoongi believe he needed to leave.

And that thought, that deep, suffocating guilt, was slowly killing Jungkook bit by bit. Each day, it weighed heavier on his chest, every breath feeling like it came with the burden of Yoongi’s absence. No matter how hard he tried to move on, to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault, the doubt lingered, whispering cruelly in his mind.

The boys stopped, staring at Jungkook’s limp form sprawled out on the grimy garage floor, his chest rising and falling with shallow, labored breaths. Their eyes flicked over his battered body before they silently turned away, leaving without a word, without a second glance.

Jungkook wanted to scream, to shout for them to come back, to finish what they’d started because he deserved it. But the pain was too much. His chest, bruised and broken, screamed louder than any words he could muster. He couldn’t even find the strength to lift his head, let alone call out.

All he could do was lie there, gasping, feeling his soul shatter more with every passing second.

Jungkook eventually found the strength to push himself up, his body shaking violently as he stood. The world around him felt distant, distorted. His feet moved, almost without his permission, dragging him through the emptiness like a puppet whose strings were frayed. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but it didn’t matter.

He didn’t feel like himself anymore. The person he used to be, was slipping away with each step. Every thought, every memory, was swallowed up by Yoongi. It was as if his entire existence had become an echo of Yoongi’s absence.

Jungkook felt himself fading, losing his own identity, as if he were merging with Yoongi’s spirit. Their thoughts on death, once so separate, were now intertwined, tangled into a single, consuming idea.

Jungkook stood in front of the columbarium, the cold air biting at his skin as he stared down the familiar, worn path. His feet carried him without thought, making the same turns, walking the same route he had so many times before. The long corridor stretched out before him, and every step seemed to drag him deeper into the heavy weight of his memories. When he reached the corner where Yoongi rested, he stopped.

The inscription burned into his mind like a cruel joke. It was the same one he had seen countless times before, yet today it felt like an accusation. Like the letters were staring back at him, daring him to look long enough, hoping he would stop pretending.

And then, a horrifying thought crossed his mind: What if he was the one who should be here instead of Yoongi? What if it was meant to be him, the boy who never quite belonged?

The words, Jeon Jungkook, 1997-2014, seemed to materialize in his mind, a grim reflection of everything that had been lost. That was how it should’ve ended, right? He should have been the one to go first, the one to leave this world behind. He had never been meant to live without Yoongi.

But here he was. And Yoongi wasn’t.

The pain hit him like a wave, and he could feel his breath catch in his throat. The thought of trading places with Yoongi seemed so real, so visceral. If only he could. If only he could do something, anything, to reverse this twisted fate. He stood there in silence, too broken to speak, too lost to move.

He slammed his hands against the cold, unforgiving door of the small box, where the urn and Yoongi’s belongings were kept. His palms pressed hard against it, as though trying to push through, to feel closer, to touch what he could no longer have. His forehead followed, resting gently against the surface, desperate to feel the connection again, even in the most hollow of ways.

“I wish I could forget about you,” he repeated, his voice cracking as if the weight of his own words was too much to bear. The anger twisted inside him like a knot, tightening around his heart.

He had never felt this angry before, and it was like he could almost see Yoongi’s face in his mind, burning with the same fury that consumed him.

“Fuck,” he spat aloud, his hands turning into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms. His body trembled with the force of his emotions. “I wish I’d never met you.”

The words tasted bitter on his tongue, sharper than anything he’d ever said. They left a hollow echo in the air, as though the universe had heard his admission and felt the weight of it. He didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to resent the one person who had meant everything to him.

“You really thought you knew better than me what I needed?” he asked, his voice dripping with manic disbelief, his fingers tangled in his dark hair as he pulled at it in frustration. The picture of Yoongi—one he once cherished—taunted him now, the smile on the older’s face almost mocking him. He wanted to rip it from the frame, tear it apart, and scream at him, tell him to fight for himself, to stay here, to stay alive.

“You really thought that—” Jungkook’s words faltered for a moment, his chest tightening as the anger threatened to choke him. He took a deep breath, fighting to steady the storm inside. His hands clenched at his sides, but the fury still clawed at him, relentless. “You really thought that somehow killing yourself was better than me having to suffer alone?”

The words hung in the air, a weight too heavy to carry, as if he was questioning the very essence of Yoongi’s decision. His mind swirled with confusion and resentment, trying to understand how the person he had loved so deeply could have made that choice.

“I feel like I killed you!” Jungkook shouted, his voice shaking with a mix of fury and anguish, as his finger pointed accusingly at the urn. The anger and pain in his chest were too much to contain. “How is that protecting me, huh? Tell me, Yoongi,” he spat, his eyes burning with unshed tears, waiting for some sign, for some answer that would never come.

He stood there, frozen for a moment, his breath ragged as if he were trying to will Yoongi’s ghost to speak, to explain. But there was nothing. The silence of the room mocked him, and his chest grew tighter with every passing second.

“You’re selfish, weak,” he hissed through gritted teeth, the words dripping with disdain. “I don’t even know why I keep living for you, because I think that somehow, by doing that—you’re living too.”

The words were sharp and jagged, cutting through the darkness in his heart. He could feel the weight of his own contradictions, the guilt and the anger, pushing him further into despair. He had loved Yoongi with every ounce of his being, but now… now, it felt like nothing but a cruel joke. Jungkook didn’t understand anymore. And it was killing him.

Jungkook collapsed onto the floor, his knees drawn to his chest as the weight of his grief crashed over him. His body trembled with every sob that wracked his frame, and he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. The dam he had built for so long had finally shattered, and the flood was unstoppable.

“I’m hurting,” he whispered through the rawness of his voice, his hand pressing desperately against his chest, as if trying to hold the pain inside. But it was too much. Too heavy. His vision blurred with every tear that fell, the pain in his heart too intense to bear alone.

“I’m trying so hard to live for you, but what if I failed you again?” His voice cracked, the fear of repeating the past, of losing Yoongi all over again, clawing at him. He felt like he was drowning in the guilt, suffocating under the weight of it.

He stared at the urn before him, his breaths shallow and shaky. “I just want to see you… to know where you are, to be with you. To be wherever you are right now,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the words alone could somehow summon Yoongi back to him.

He closed his eyes tightly, wishing for a sign, anything that could make this unbearable ache go away. But nothing came, and he was left alone with his grief, his guilt, and the crushing weight of loss that seemed to consume him whole.

Between his choked sobs and a weariness that weighed him down like a heavy blanket, Jungkook eventually drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t the first time he had done so in this place. The columbarium, open around the clock, had become a strange kind of refuge for him—a place where he could breathe without the burden of the world around him. Here, Yoongi was always with him, and the thought of that was the only thing that made him feel like he wasn’t truly alone.

When he finally stirred, the first thing he felt was a pounding headache, a direct consequence of the alcohol he had consumed the night before. He had known better, but in that moment, the numbness had felt necessary—anything to drown out the weight of everything he was carrying inside. His head was heavy, his vision blurred, and the pain from the hits he’d taken earlier in the night still lingered throughout his body like a cruel reminder of his own helplessness.

But as the fog of sleep began to clear, it wasn’t just his body that ached. His heart felt hollow in a way that couldn’t be explained—an emptiness he didn’t know how to fill. The conversation from last night, the harsh words and the admission of feelings he couldn’t take back, echoed in his mind. The guilt and sorrow from that exchange wrapped themselves around his chest like a vice, tightening with every breath he took.

Opening his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the harsh light of the sun streaming through the windows, its rays sharp against his skin like a cruel reminder of the world he had to face. He raised his hand to shield his eyes, squinting against the brightness as he tried to focus on the woman standing in front of him.

She spoke softly, her voice gentle as she shook his shoulders lightly, waking him from the daze he had slipped into. “You’re in front of—” she said, her words trailing off as she gestured to something behind him. Jungkook’s stomach dropped when he realized where he was and who he was intruding upon. He had been asleep in front of someone else’s loved one, their final resting place—something he knew Yoongi would have never wanted.

Immediately, an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over him, and he bowed his head in apology, repeatedly muttering his regrets. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” His words faltered, unable to find the right thing to say. What was there to say? He had been lost in his own pain, too consumed by his grief to notice the boundaries of the space he was in.

The woman smiled softly, a kindness in her eyes that he didn’t quite deserve, and without saying another word, she continued her task, placing flowers into the box that held her loved one’s ashes.

The woman’s question lingered in the air as she continued with her task, her movements steady and practiced. She didn’t glance up at him, instead focusing on the delicate arrangement of flowers in her hands. But Jungkook couldn’t help but feel the weight of her question pressing against him.

“Who is it?” Her voice was soft, as though she already knew the answer, as though she understood the quiet grief that tied them all together in this place.

Jungkook found himself standing there, a stranger to his own emotions. It was strange, how surrounded he was by the sorrow of others and yet felt like he was the only one truly carrying the weight. Everyone around him, every person who had left their loved ones in this cold, silent place, knew what it was like to lose someone. And still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his grief was different. Like it was the only grief that truly mattered. Like he was the only one who knew what it felt like to lose something so irreplaceable.

His gaze fell to his hands, clasped tightly against his stomach, a gesture of discomfort and lost control. The emptiness that gnawed at him in this moment seemed to grow even deeper as he struggled to find the words to explain the relationship he once had with Yoongi.

“My—” he paused, unsure of how to categorize the boy who had meant everything to him. Was Yoongi his friend? His brother? His soulmate? Lover? Lifeline? Jungkook felt his heart clench at the thought that none of those labels felt like they were enough. Yoongi had been all of those things to him, and more. He was everything and nothing all at once.

The words caught in his throat, and for a long moment, he stood in silence, the weight of the question heavy on his shoulders.

“Yoongi,” he whispered, barely audible, as if saying his name was somehow enough. The two syllables felt like the answer to all of his questions, to all of the confusion he had carried since that night.

Jungkook didn’t need to explain more than that. Because Yoongi, in the end, was everything.

The woman’s smile was gentle, but it only made the ache in Jungkook’s chest grow. She didn’t understand, of course she didn’t. How could she? She wasn’t Yoongi. She didn’t know the way Yoongi’s laugh still echoed in his ears, or how his name felt like a prayer stuck in the back of his throat.

She couldn’t know the bond they shared, the kind that wasn’t just friendship or love, but something deeper, something woven into the very fabric of his being.

“Yoongi must be lucky to have someone to sleep beside,” she said, her words light, a soft attempt at warmth. Her smile lingered as she finished placing the flowers in the small box, a simple act of care. Then, she stood up, her movements graceful as she closed the door to the small memorial with a soft click.

Jungkook didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to pry, but there was something about her quiet sorrow that made him wonder if she, too, understood what it was like to lose someone so vital to your existence. He tried to keep his gaze away, but his eyes betrayed him, darting to the spot she had left behind, wondering if her grief was anything like his.

But the question hung in the air, unanswered. Did she know? Was her loss as consuming as his?

He couldn’t stop the words that left his lips, his voice quieter than before, laced with the kind of intimacy that only grief could bring. “I am lucky to sleep beside him.”

The woman didn’t say anything in response. Maybe she didn’t know how to, maybe she understood more than he could ever tell. But for Jungkook, it didn’t matter. The words he had spoken were his own truth.

The silence between them stretched, heavy yet strangely comforting, like an unspoken understanding neither of them needed to explain. The girl had been watching him, her gaze flickering between the picture of the two boys inside Yoongi’s memorial and the real boy standing in front of it, his expression unreadable, his grief something too vast to be contained in words.

After a long moment, she spoke again, her voice quiet but steady.

“I don’t know if it can help, but… I like to think they’re better where they are,” she said gently, her eyes drifting back to the one she had come to visit, the pain in her own heart evident in the softness of her tone. “That they’re always watching us. Even if we can’t see them, they’re still there.”

She wasn’t saying it to comfort him, he could tell. She truly believed it. It was a thought she carried with her, a way to cope with the weight of absence.

Jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, not quite a scoff, but not quite agreement either. The idea of Yoongi watching over him felt… wrong. Yoongi wasn’t the type to stay behind and linger like some guardian spirit. If there was an afterlife, he was sure Yoongi would’ve gone somewhere far, somewhere peaceful, somewhere he wasn’t shackled by the weight of a past he never wanted.

But still, the thought of it, even if he couldn’t bring himself to believe it, was oddly grounding.

“If he’s watching,” Jungkook murmured, voice thick with exhaustion, “then he must be pissed at me.” A humorless chuckle left his lips, bitter and self-deprecating. “I don’t think he wanted me to end up like this.”

He didn’t know why he was saying this to a stranger. Maybe because she was the only person around who might understand, even if just a little. Maybe because grief made people desperate to be understood.

The girl tilted her head slightly, considering his words before offering a small, knowing smile. “Then maybe it’s time to show him something different.”

Jungkook looked at her then, really looked at her, as if trying to find the meaning in her words. But she didn’t elaborate. She simply gave him one last glance, as if committing him to memory, before stepping away, leaving him alone once again with the only person who had ever truly mattered.

Her words lingered, though.

Maybe it’s time to show him something different.

Jungkook let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he wiped at his swollen eye with the sleeve of his hoodie. The whole interaction had been strange—too coincidental to ignore. A girl, out of nowhere, telling him exactly what he needed to hear, right when he felt like he was unraveling. It almost felt like a setup, like some divine intervention that had Yoongi’s smug fingerprints all over it.

He pointed a lazy, accusing finger at the name etched into the marble urn, a crooked smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I swear, Yoongi, if you had the nerves to send a girl as a sign for me to move on, I’ll kill you again,” he muttered, voice laced with something caught between amusement and disbelief.

He could almost hear Yoongi’s dry laugh in response, the way he’d scoff and call him an idiot before flicking his forehead.

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. It was ridiculous, really. He was talking to a name on a wall, to someone who wasn’t here anymore. But somehow, it felt right.

The thought of last night—the desperation, the anger, the way he had fallen apart in front of Yoongi’s memorial—felt distant now, like a bad dream. He wasn’t okay, not by a long shot, but the weight in his chest felt just a little bit lighter.

Maybe it was a sign.

Maybe Yoongi was still looking out for him, in the only way he knew how.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, a quiet laugh leaving his lips. “Fine. I’ll think about it. But don’t get any ideas, old man,” he murmured, shaking his head before shoving his hands into his pockets and glanced at the sun peeking out of the window, letting the warmth of the sun sink into his bruised skin.

That night, Jungkook found himself drawn to the shore, as if the waves had been calling him back all this time. It had been years since he last stood there, since he last felt the damp sand beneath his feet and the salty wind brushing against his skin. The last time he was here had also been the last time he saw him.

He tried not to think about it, about him, about the way things had ended. But as he stepped closer to the edge, the past rushed in like the tide, refusing to be ignored.

The echoes of their laughter still lingered in the air, haunting and bittersweet. He could almost see them there—two silhouettes against the night, pretending they weren’t drowning in their own pain. He remembered how he used to talk endlessly, filling the silence with words that probably never mattered, but at least they had kept Yoongi there with him. He had always been the one to talk more, to ramble on about anything and everything, afraid that if he stopped, if he gave Yoongi even a moment to slip away into his thoughts, he might lose him.

But there had been screaming too.

Because their relationship was never just soft words and quiet moments. It was raw, messy, tangled in emotions they didn’t know how to name. They pushed and pulled, hurt and healed, fought and forgave. Their love—if that’s what it was—had never been gentle.

Jungkook inhaled deeply, the cold air stinging his lungs. The waves crashed against the shore, just as relentless as his memories.

He wasn’t sure why he came here tonight.

Maybe he wanted to remember.

Or maybe, for the first time, he wanted to say goodbye.

Jungkook exhaled, his breath shaky but steady, as if for the first time in years, he was letting go of a weight he didn’t even realize he had been carrying.

He didn’t want to live for Yoongi anymore. It was suffocating him. Somewhere along the way, he had lost himself in the equation, drowning in Yoongi’s absence, in his lingering thoughts, until all that remained was a shadow of what he used to be.

But if Yoongi was watching him, like that girl had said, he wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want Jungkook to be trapped in grief, living a life that wasn’t his own.

If Yoongi had made the decision to leave, it wasn’t so that Jungkook could follow him into the dark—it was so that he could find the light.

And by holding onto the idea of living for Yoongi, Jungkook realized he had been betraying his last wish all along.

So, with the sound of the waves crashing in the background, he finally said his last goodbye.

“I won’t forget about you,” he began, his voice quiet but firm, hands buried in his pockets, fingers fidgeting with a familiar object he had taken before coming here. “But I can’t forget about me either.”

Slowly, he pulled the object from his jacket pocket, letting his gaze fall onto it—the white lighter, its surface worn and familiar beneath his fingertips. The same one he had taken from the columbarium before leaving.

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he traced the dark ink on its surface.

“You made me realize how beautiful life is,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “How it’s worth living… because I met you in the process.”

He rolled the lighter between his fingers, his grip gentle, almost reverent.

“You made me realize I was worth it too. Because somehow, you loved me.”

The wind carried his words into the night, but he didn’t need an answer. He already knew.

“And most importantly, you made me realize that there’s nothing more valuable than our own life.”

His own life.

Not Yoongi’s. Not the one he had tried to live for someone else.

His.

With a deep breath, Jungkook pulled his arm back and let the lighter slip from his fingers, watching as it spun through the air before plunging into the water below. The small splash was barely audible over the crashing waves, but to him, it was deafening—a quiet yet final farewell.

Just like they had once done with his red lighter, this too was a ritual of letting go.

A last page turned.

A book closed.

A beautiful and painful story—one that would always stay with him, carved into the deepest parts of his soul. But now, it was a story he could carry with peace, one he could speak about with a soft smile instead of a heavy heart.

Jungkook exhaled, feeling the weight in his chest slowly lift, the air around him feeling lighter, clearer.

“Thank you, my brother,” he whispered, his voice steady. “Have a nice stay.”

With quiet reverence, he lowered himself to the ground, placing his left hand over his right. His fingers touched the cool earth first, forming a small triangle with his index fingers and thumbs, before his knees followed.

A bow—not of grief, but of gratitude.

Of love.

Of acceptance.

And twenty-two years later, after his first breath.

On March 10th, Jeon Jungkook was born.

[yoonberry17]

THE EDGE OF US

Jungkook never smokes. But tonight, his fingers tremble around a cigarette Yoongi left behind. His lips ghost over the filter. Inhales nothing but memory. Yoongi always hated the taste of burnt things. Jungkook only knows how to love the wreckage.

“You’re shaking,” Yoongi murmurs, voice wrapped in smoke and sleep. “I’m cold.” A lie. Yoongi’s hands are warm when they touch his wrist. A ghost of a grip, a question he doesn’t ask.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” Jungkook’s laugh is quiet. “Then why did you?” Yoongi sighs, and for the first time, Jungkook sees it— The weight Yoongi carries. The grief of a man who destroys what he loves before it can destroy him.

[veeparkersstuff]

"From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered-

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition;

And gentlemen in England now-a-bed

Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day"-Henry V by Shakespeare

👑BTS as Shakespeare's plays according to ChatGPT👑

(Like or reblog, don't repost pls!⚔️)

[colormepurplex2]

As Fate Would Have It | A Thousand Lifetimes & It's Always You

↳ Producer!Yoongi x Bartender&TattooApprentice!Jungkook ⤜ Reincarnation/Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 8,938 ⚠️ Crass language, drinking, almost-blowjob, cum licking, thoughts of masturbation, kissing, anal fingering, full blow job, cum swallowing, dick stroking, mild begging

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

Yoongi

Soulmate Rejection (soul·​mate re·​jec·​tion) noun a. the dismissing or refusing of the proposal or idea of the existence of a soulmate or the shared mark and sensations b. the act of spurning a person's affections, specifically that of a fated mate

The definition, provided by a quick Google search, stares at Yoongi from the dimmed screen of his computer monitor. He chews his bottom lip, trying, not for the first time, to gather his thoughts into a coherent line.

It seems like such a foreign concept. The knowledge of soulmates in general is slim, mostly reserved for myths, fairytales, and history books. There are a few well-known pairs, though, primarily celebrities who have enough money and resources to do the necessary footwork to find their soulmate. Though, even then, it’s a drastically impractical concept to believe in. Celebrities aren’t exactly known for their honesty, after all.

Yoongi has read enough of the historical claims to believe in them the same way one might believe in Arthur Pendragon or Robin Hood. It’s possible they were real people, but probability suggests either they never were or they weren’t what myth has made them out to be.

So, in the last week, Yoongi has all but convinced himself that his encounter with the bartender—Jungkook—was actually just a bizarre fever dream of epic proportions.

“What’re you reading?” Namjoon’s voice startles Yoongi, breaking through his mental fog.

“What? Oh, nothing,” he says, quickly clicking out of the web browser search results.

But, not quick enough clearly. “Soulmate Rejection?”

Battling down his embarrassment, Yoongi clears his throat and swings his chair around to face his friend. He doesn’t bother asking how Namjoon got into his apartment. Yoongi knows he has a key and uses it for his leisure; it’s why he gave it to him in the first place. But now, it’s on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue to ask for it back.

Yoongi shrugs. “Curiosity, that’s all.”

“And for some reason,” Namjoon says, dropping onto the leather couch on the other side of the small space Yoongi uses as his home studio, “I don’t believe you. Come on, man, tell me what’s going on.”

It wouldn’t be easy to continue hiding his fugue from Namjoon. His friend is just far too perceptive and in tune with Yoongi for that. Yoongi is grateful to have such a caring friend, but it also makes him feel infinitely more vulnerable in situations like this.

Taking a deep breath and shoving a hand through his unruly hair, Yoongi asks, “I, uh, I know who they are.” The tattoo at the base of his neck tingles as he recalls black hair and dark, chestnut eyes sitting above a surly mouth.

“Oh. I see. And…?” Namjoon asks, and Yoongi can tell he’s being cautious in probing further. Clearly, Namjoon is putting some of the pieces together in his head. There can only be so many reasons why Yoongi, after discovering his soulmate mark, would be Googling ‘Soulmate Rejection’.

Slowly, Yoongi recounts everything from his encounter with Jungkook a week ago. When he went back to Chuck’s, he confronted him with his knowledge and tattoo. The stinging words fester like an open wound that Yoongi had simply been ignoring for the last week. Better to forget and think it is all a dream than to face reality.

“So, yeah…that’s the jist of it.” Yoongi swallows hard, snatching up one of the many bottles scattered over his desk. The room-temperature water does little to soothe his suddenly parched and aching throat.

Namjoon drums his fingers over his thighs, the muscle along his jaw feathering. He sighs, fingers going still and jaw softening. “Well, that won’t do. He can’t just reject you. Who the fuck rejects their soulmate? Doesn’t he realize this doesn’t happen to just anyone? For fucks sake, this is like finding Willy Wonka’s golden ticket…only a million times more priceless.”

A beat passes before Yoongi responds, “What am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can force him to accept this.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at his computer screen. “Maybe it’s best I just put my head down and continue my life as if this never happened. I have plenty of work to keep me occupied.”

Even as he says that, Yoongi knows it’s not possible. He’s been fooling himself for the last week, thinking Jungkook was just some fever dream. The fact is, this is very real, and he can feel it deep in his bones. There is an uncomfortable ache in his muscles, a tightness that sits in the center of his chest. He feels stretched thin, like a part of him is miles away, and the distance makes his skin itch.

“We just have to make him realize Soulmates are real.”

💞💞💞

Jungkook

“How about you help me instead of whatever the hell it is you’re doing on your phone?” Jungkook growls, voice strained by the weight of the three large boxes he’s carrying.

Taehyung chuckles, finishing tapping away on his phone before pocketing it. “I was responding to my agent. I have my first booking next week.” He grabs a box out of the car and follows behind Jungkook.

Jungkook had been avoiding Taehyung for the last week, but the looming date of his move ended that. They had agreed months ago that once Taehyung's lease was up, they would renew together, and Jungkook would move in while he finished out his apprenticeship.

With Taehyung facing a very busy schedule flying all over the world for shoots and his other roommate, Jimin, always on the road with his band, Taehyung really wanted someone to move into his place and keep an eye on his dog and plants so he wouldn’t have to hire someone. Jungkook wasn’t hard-pressed to agree, desperately wanting to get out of the tiny one-bedroom apartment he was renting above the gym where he used to work out.

One of the big perks of moving here, aside from having more space, is the exclusive gym and other amenities. When Jungkook isn’t working at Chuck’s or Electric Fox, he enjoys the mindless nature of working out. He can sling some weights, but by the time he’s done, he’s too exhausted to worry about anything else.

“I’m happy for you, man, but the quicker we can get my shit here, the sooner I can try out that gym before I have to head to The Fox tonight.”

Jungkook covets the apprenticeship. The Electric Fox, often referred to as just ‘The Fox,’ is a pretty prestigious parlor in the area. They don’t let just anyone apprentice in the shop; it’s a grueling process. But Jungkook wouldn’t give it up for anything. He’s always wanted to tattoo, thrives and feeds off the artistic energy of inking lines and shapes into someone’s skin.

An hour later, Jungkook drops the last box and looks around his sparse room. A mattress is pushed into one corner, and an opened gym bag spills clothes across it. Clean sheets are tossed in a pile on the bed, waiting to be stretched across it. Boxes line two walls, and his light desk sits by the window. There’s no personality here…not yet, at least.

“I’m taking lunch to Jimin. They’re doing a quick break before their next recording session. Need anything before I head out?” Taehyung asks, peeking around the corner into Jungkook’s room.

Giving his room one more cursory glance, Jungkook turns to Taehyung and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. I am just going to hit the gym and then head to work. I’ll be home late.”

“Okay. Later, JK.” Taehyung disappears, the soft sounds of his socked feet swishing down the hall. A moment later, Jungkook hears the click of the front door closing, and he allows himself a small moment to feel all his raw emotions.

Taehyung isn’t the only thing Jungkook has been avoiding all week. The man who claimed to be his soulmate—Jungkook scoffs as that word spins through his mind—has been by Chuck’s nearly every night. And every time Jungkook got that telltale green tinge coloring the edges of his vision, he made some excuse to disappear until he was sure the coast was clear.

Jocelyn has given him more than an earful about doing that. But, ever since that debacle in his bed the other night, he hasn’t brought himself to speak more than a few words to her, much less explain the whole bullshit situation to her.

Grabbing his gym bag, Jungkook dumps out the rest of the clothes in it. He grabs some jeans, a pair of boxers, and a white graphic t-shirt to change into when he’s done and shoves them into the empty duffle.

He knows he should take some time to unpack a bit, get his clothes sorted, and make up the bed, but those are honestly the last things on his mind right now. What he needs is to submerge himself in sweat, iron, and creating that perfect ache in his muscles.

Changing into some jersey knit shorts and an old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, Jungkook heads out the door and meanders his way across the expansive grounds of the condominium.

It’s a beautiful complex. Well-kept flower beds with marble statues dot the walkways and between the varying amenities. The gym is on the other side of the tennis courts and pool. It’s a decent-sized building, and from what Taehyung told him, it houses private showers and even a sauna, which he most definitely plans to put to use today when he finishes his workout.

Jungkook loses himself in the thrum of music in his headphones and the pump of iron in his hands. It feels good to release all of his excess energy, letting his muscles take the punishment for his ridiculous thoughts. Serves him right for barely managing to go a whole day without thinking about that man from the bar.

Soulmates aren’t real—can’t be real. Jungkook hates the idea that his life is somehow planned out for him, that no matter his decisions, they’re not truly his. It takes away the whole concept and idea of free will. The one thing Jungkook has going for him, the ability to make his own choices and be free from the confines of other’s trying to rule over him, is simply a construct of some…thing.

It frustrates him to no end. He’s always been a nonbeliever, for that very fact. For fucks sake, it’s his life. Which is why he denied that man—Yoongi. Jungkook hates that he even asked for his name. It would have been better not to know. Maybe then he wouldn’t be waking up every morning with his fist choking his cock and that name moaning from his lips.

“Fuck!” Jungkook heaves a breath, the barbell slipping from his sweaty hands. It thunks heavily against the soft mat under his feet.

With his next inhale, Jungkook sucks in hot, moist air that has an undercurrent of lavender. The clean, sultry smell lingers, so different from the sterile smell of the gym from just moments before. It’s happening again…and it makes Jungkook’s blood boil.

Jungkook quickly stows the weights, cleaning up his area and giving it a thorough wipe-down. What he really needs right now is a long reprieve in the sauna and then a cold shower.

The inside of the gym is divided: the weights and accompanying machinery are on one side, and all of the cardio equipment is on the other. Access to the locker rooms, showers, and sauna is in the middle.

Something feels off the moment Jungkook walks into the sauna, towel wrapped around his hips. There’s one other person in the sauna. From his angle at the entrance, all Jungkook can see is their side profile, which is mostly obscured by a damp fringe of black hair. But it wouldn’t matter if they wore a mask; Jungkook would know who they were instantly.

“Finally done with your run?” The figure startles, swinging around to face Jungkook fully. “You’re not Namjoon.” Yoongi’s brow furrows. “Um, hi. What…uh, what are you doing here? This place is residents only.”

“Maybe I should ask you that. I just moved here.” Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the bane of his current existence.

Yoongi purses his lips, fingers tapping absently against the bench on either side of his towel-clad thighs. Jungkook could swear there was a hint of a smile a moment before Yoongi says, “Out of all the places you could have moved to.”

Jungkook silently curses to himself, trying to decide whether or not he should just turn around and leave or suffer through sitting in this enclosed space with this…man. “Yeah, lucky me,” Jungkook mutters under his breath before flopping down on the bench as far away from Yoongi as he can get.

The sauna falls blissfully into silence. Jungkook rests back on the bench, extending his legs out in front of him and closing his eyes. The heat builds, and he can feel all of his anxiety slowly leaching out with every drop of sweat that slides down his skin.

An indeterminate amount of time passes before Jungkook becomes aware of a soft tinkling sound, like the trickling burble of a water fountain. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, a smile curling his lip as…

…His beautiful lover shifts on the ledge across from him, beads of water glistening on his naked skin—the summer heat shimmers in the air above the bathing pool, making the waters warm and the air humid. The granite lip of the basin is hard under Jungkook’s body, which is exhausted from his long day in the training yard.

His work with the spatha is second to none in the Empire. Many come from far and wide to face him in the amphitheater, but none have walked away victorious. The man luxuriating in the water on the other side of the pool holds all his gratitude. If it weren’t for Yoongi’s love, Jungkook is sure he would have long since perished, his soul left to wander the desolate expanse of this world without its other half.

“I can feel your eyes on my body,” Yoongi says, golden skin stretching as he extends his arms over his head and gives Jungkook a sultry wink. “Drink your fill while you can.”

Jungkook groans, hating the reminder that their time here is limited. He’s due back at the palace before the last of the light disappears from the sky. His chiton is draped over the small alcove entrance to the bathing pool, affording them a semblance of privacy. It helps that these are the royal baths, deep in the belly of the formal gardens, where a battle-hardened gladiator such as himself doesn’t belong.

Yet, one would have to move heaven and earth to see Jungkook separated from his lover—the man looking at him like he hung the stars—the man who owns his heart with every pump of his life’s blood.

“I would rather drink you,” Jungkook murmurs, pushing away from the edge of the pool and wading closer to the princeling, a King in his own rights in Jungkook’s eyes.

Yoongi groans, sweeping a hand down Jungkook’s face. “On your knees, bow before your King and…

💞💞💞

Yoongi

“...sing for me,” Yoongi murmurs sleepily.

He didn’t mean to doze off in the sauna, but Namjoon's intense cardio workout sapped all of his energy. A heavy weight presses over his lap, and he realizes his fingers are sifting through soft, damp strands of hair. Yoongi’s eyes pop open, dropping to the man kneeling on the bench in front of him.

It wasn’t a dream. Yoongi swallows hard, watching as Jungkook nuzzles his nose across the white expanse of the front of Yoongi’s towel. It was a vision from another life…one where—

Hot breath permeating through the thick terrycloth, Jungkook murmurs, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Um, uh—” Yoongi’s sputtering turns into a gasp as Jungkook’s mouth finds the quickly growing length of his cock through the towel.

“You like that, my love?” Jungkook asks. His eyes finally slide open, and he peers up into Yoongi’s. It takes a moment, one filled with Jungkook still mouthing at his towel-covered length, for it to register.

Jungkook tumbles backward, landing heavily on his ass, towel flopping askew to reveal his own straining erection. Yoongi heaves in a breath, his lungs filling with the same warm, steam-filled air as the man now looking at him like a piece of meat he’s about to gobble up.

“Still want to deny this?” Yoongi asks, words soft and thin. “The visions…the tastes…the—” He’s about to say tattoos but is cut off by Jungkook suddenly in his face and slanting his mouth right over Yoongi’s.

“This means nothing,” Jungkook snarls, teeth scraping over Yoongi’s bottom lip. “Just an itch to scratch. That’s. It. Proving a point that you’re only a warm body that can get my dick hard, and that’s all.” Yoongi moans, his protest lost to the sensation of Jungkook plundering his mouth once more. “Maybe I simply need to fuck you out of my system.”

That last part is mumbled so low that Yoongi almost can’t make it out. He tries to claw at his thoughts, gather them enough to deny the hands now snaking beneath his towel to wrench it open, to say no to the hot mouth working its way down his chest to his leaking cock.

But no protest comes; no plea for this to end leaves Yoongi’s mouth. He watches with hooded eyes as Jungkook wraps a tattooed hand around the base of Yoongi’s dick and squeezes. Pearly drops of precum leak from his tip. Jungkook laps them up, tonguing the slit.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, head thumping against the wall behind him as he melts under Jungkook’s mouth.

The soft chirp of insects fills the air, adding to the melody of the water swishing and swirling as Jungkook’s body fills the space between Yoongi’s splayed knees. He’s lost to the sensations, savoring every moment. It’s been weeks since Yoongi last was able to get away from his duties as the royal heir, precious weeks he was without the enchanting song of his own personal siren beckoning him into the sea of his soul.

He wishes he could harness the power of Sol and stay the sun where it rests low in the sky. Jungkook engulfs Yoongi in the lush, wet confines of his mouth. Yoongi loves it when Jungkook serenades him, but this comes as a very close second. It feels so divine that he fails to hear the rustling of the tall grass outside of the bathing pool garden.

“Majesty, we must—”

“—check out that new place Jin was…what the fuck!?” The door to the sauna snaps shut behind Namjoon.

The sound, as much as his presence, must break whatever spell seemingly had come over Jungkook because he jumps back. His face is darker than a thundercloud as he heaves angry breaths, staring at Yoongi like this was somehow his fault.

Yoongi quickly gathers his towel and covers his lap, licking his swollen lips. “This, uh, Namjoon…this is—”

“This is nothing,” Jungkook snaps before promptly turning on his heel and storming past Namjoon.

Silence falls after the door swings shut once more. Namjoon eyes Yoongi, clearly waiting for some sort of explanation. “Was that who I think it was?”

“Um…yeah,” Yoongi explains to his friend. “My soulmate who apparently hates me.”

“Explain it to me one more time,” Namjoon asks an hour after they left the gym. He sits on the couch in Yoongi's studio, feet propped on the low table in front of it. A half-empty bourbon glass is forgotten in his hand, too enthralled by what he stumbled across in the sauna.

Yoongi shrugs. “It was a memory, I think. Or, at least, it felt like it was a memory…a weird form of deja vu or something. I swear, it was real—looking just like a scene right out of a period drama, complete with a spring-fed bathing pool and togas, except real life.” Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Yoongi closes his eyes and sighs. “We both must have dozed off in the sauna, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up to Jungkook with his face rubbing my dick. I thought for sure he would stop…but he didn’t. And, well, you know the rest.”

“Mmm,” Namjoon hums softly. “And yet he still denies it, huh? Man, what a jackass.”

The frustration Yoongi is feeling isn’t just the sexual kind right now. However, the fact it took his erection longer than usual to go away was a testament to his patience. He shoves a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands in the process as if it might relieve the ache starting to form in his head.

“Seems that way,” Yoongi sighs. “And, of course, he lives here now, apparently. So, I imagine we’ll be running into each other…unless you want to cancel our future gym sessions?” Yoongi meant it as a joke, and the scowl Namjoon gave him made him laugh out loud. “Kidding! But…seriously, I have a feeling this is only going to get worse. He clearly wants nothing to do with me or our connection.”

“Sure didn’t seem that way with your dick in his mouth,” Namjoon mumbles before adding, “Fairly certain there is some proverb or famous quote out there about fighting destiny. It seems like fate is taking matters into its own hands. How else do you explain that fact he just so happened to move in here so soon after your soulmate tattoos popped up? This is fate knocking on his heart, and I don’t think it’ll take ‘no’ for an answer.”

And that’s the meat of it, Yoongi thinks. Everything that he’s read online indicates that there is no way around this. Soulmate Rejection might have a definition online, but there is a reason why there isn’t much more information than that because: it’s simply not possible to deny it for long. No matter what someone does, Fate is going to find a way.

“I guess.” Yoongi scrubs his hands over his face and then gestures toward his computer. “I got to get back to work on this. I need to have the sample ready tonight so we can get the next recording session set up.”

Namjoon drops his feet to the floor and tosses back the rest of his drink, depositing the empty glass on the table where his feet just were. “Can I listen?”

A bit of the weight resting on Yoongi’s shoulders lifts as his friend expresses interest in something other than the predicament of Jungkook. If it wasn’t for that tender ache in his chest, this might feel like any other day.

“Sure thing.”

💞💞💞

Jungkook

Jungkook has pointedly avoided the gym for the last week, which has frustrated him maybe more than the fact that he can’t stop thinking about the taste of Yoongi on his tongue.

It’s a battle of wills, trying to deny all of this while also growing feral for another chance to lay eyes on the dark-haired mystery that has begun to infiltrate his dreams. He hates to admit it, but every time Jungkook leaves the condo now, his eyes are constantly sweeping the grounds in hopes of catching a glimpse of Yoongi.

Thinking it might help quell his turmoil, Jungkook finally came clean to Taehyung about everything. Taehyung took it in stride and simply told Jungkook not to be a complete idiot and that this was a once-in-a-lifetime—literally, he’d emphasized—opportunity. It hadn’t helped Jungkook in the slightest…if anything, it made him feel worse.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grouses, lifting his foot off the pedal and silencing his machine. “I can’t concentrate.”

“What’s got you so grumpy, bunny?” Jimin asks as he plops down into the empty chair beside Jungkook. He glances at the half-done dragon tattoo etched into the slab of fake skin Jungkook is practicing on. “There’s no way I’m letting you touch me with a needle if you’re in a bad mood.”

Jimin swung by the shop before heading to his next recording session for his upcoming album. The moment Jimin walked in, Jungkook could tell his friend was holding something back. It's something that Jungkook is almost certain he knows exactly what it is.

Jimin has been after Jungkook to join him in the recording studio for years at this point. Ever since Jungkook got a little too drunk one night when he first moved to the city and accidentally revealed to his new group of friends that he’s actually not a bad singer, and it felt nice to lose himself in his old dreams for once—until he woke the following day and the pestering from Jimin began.

The only person Jungkook has talked to about this whole situation is Taehyung, but for a moment, Jungkook considers confiding in Jimin, too—maybe he’d agree with Jungkook. As it is, Jungkook feels terrible for leaving his friend in the dark, but at the same time, Jungkook honestly doesn’t want to talk about it at all because talking about it only seems to compound the feelings he has.

“We can reschedule if you want,” Jungkook offers in place of an explanation.

A soft grunt is all Jungkook gets in response before Jimin tugs his shirt off and turns in the chair to present it to Jungkook. Unable to hold back his smile, Jungkook gets to work setting up his station.

As Jungkook draws to the end of his apprenticeship, his mentor, Ravi, gives him more and more freedom, such as being able to tattoo his friends anytime he wants as long as it doesn’t interfere with his primary shop duties.

Jimin has taken advantage of that more than once, especially before something big happens, such as recording his next album. It’s supposed to be a big one. According to Jimin, it could be the one that completely jump-starts his career to the top of the charts. Apparently his manager was able to book with one of the most coveted and sought-after producers in the country.

The beautiful crescent shape fits nicely over the column of Jimin’s spine. It’s only part of the entire piece, but they agreed only to do a little bit at a time during each session. 

“Soo,” Jimin draws out the word, heavy with intention. “Join me at the studio tonight?”

“I don’t know, man, I’ve got a lot of work left to—”

Jimin, slapping a hand over Jungkook’s mouth, cuts off his excuse. “Come on, Jungkook. Just this once, and I’ll never ask again, I promise. Maybe it’ll help you get out of whatever funk this is that you’re in. Just give it a try.”

And that’s how, a few hours later, Jungkook finds himself standing outside another condo in the complex, his heart hammering so hard in his chest that he feels like he might puke.

Jungkook pitches his voice low and asks, “The new producer lives here?”

“Yeah!” replies Jimin. “Super convenient, right?”

As much as Jungkook wants it to be a coincidence, he has a prickly feeling inside his chest that tells him it’s not. He’s about to bail on Jimin when the door swings open. Jungkook’s stomach falls to his feet as his eyes meet those of the man standing on the threshold.

“Jimin?” Yoongi asks flatly.

“Hey, yeah, sorry, I hope you don’t mind. I brought a friend with me. He’s been having a shitty last few weeks, and I thought this would do him some good.” Jimin gestures between Yoongi and Jungkook. “Yoongi, this is J—”

“Jungkook.”

“Oh. Wait, you guys know each other?” Jimin raises his brows, his surprise evident.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Yoongi and Jungkook speak in unison, which only confuses Jimin even more. “No?” he asks, turning bodily toward Jungkook.

Jungkook mentally kicks himself for agreeing to this in the first place. “Well, not really.”

Yoongi grunts in response, drawing Jimin’s attention. Jungkook watches as the confusion on Jimin’s face turns into something more thoughtful and calculating.

“Right…okay. Um, so, do you mind?” Jimin asks Yoongi.

Those narrow shoulders lift in a slight shrug. “Doesn’t bother me, though your friend is looking a little constipated.”

“Emotionally, maybe,” Jimin mutters, quirking a brow at Jungkook before hauling him inside. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Yoongi?”

Jungkook allows Jimin to drag him along as he follows Yoongi down a barely lit hallway. Getting into this with Jimin is the very last thing Jungkook wants to do. So, he settles for a half-truth right now. “We don’t really know each other. We crossed paths at Chuck’s a few weeks back.”

“Uh huh, okay. Whatever you say, Koo. I can tell you’re holding something back, and that might hurt my feelings if I wasn’t about to get my way by getting you in a recording booth.”

Suppressing a wince at the prospect of what lay ahead, Jungkook swallows down a bit of his pride. This is obviously punishment for being an asshole, and he knows he deserves every ounce of it.

The hallway leads from the front door to what Jungkook assumes is the living area, similar to the layout of the condo he lives in with Taehyung and Jimin, but Yoongi disappears through one of the doors before the end of the hall.

By the time Jungkook is following Jimin inside the room, Yoongi is already seated before an expansive display. There are numerous computer monitors and channel mixers. Speakers frame the whole setup and line the wall above the giant plexiglass window just on the other side of the ample desk space.

The walls are all covered in soundproofing foam squares, and the door leading to the partitioned room is thick. Padding is secured along the frame to cover the small gaps between the door and the jamb.

Overall, it looks incredibly professional for a studio set up in someone’s home. Someone who just so happens to be the one person Jungkook has been trying to avoid. All he needs to do is pacify Jimin, sing a song or two, and get the fuck out of here.

Yoongi offers them drinks from a small fridge in the corner. Jungkook takes a bottle of water, if only to have something to do with his hands. Jimin accepts a cold brew coffee, and Yoongi takes one as well.

Jungkook fiddles with the water bottle, eventually opening it and taking a swig. The roasted bitter notes of coffee coat his tongue instead of the crisp mineral flavor of water. He swallows thickly, hating the way his eyes suddenly seek out Yoongi, searching for some sort of confirmation—not that he’s experiencing the same, but the opposite flavors. Jungkook hoped he wouldn’t find a reaction there, but, of course, fate mocked him once again as Yoongi looked curiously down at his cold brew and then flicked his eyes in Jungkook’s direction, the evidence in his stare clear.

Oblivious to what’s passing between Jungkook and Yoongi, Jimin perches on the lip of the leather couch on the back wall and pats the empty space beside him. There is a giant shit-eating grin on Jimin’s face as Jungkook reluctantly drops onto the other end of the couch and sets his re-capped bottle of water on the floor beside his feet.

“We have a few hours. Did you have a chance to listen to the sample I sent you?” Yoongi asks Jimin, clearly not going to bring up what just happened. That should be precisely what Jungkook wants, but for some reason, the fact that Yoongi is pointedly avoiding his eye now irritates him.

There is an enigmatic aloofness about Yoongi. Jungkook watches as Yoongi’s hands flex where they’re lazily cupped around his bottled coffee in his lap. The loose-legged jeans and baggy black t-shirt he’s wearing might seem shapeless, but Jungkook’s fingers itch with the phantom memory of the body underneath.

Memory? That’s undoubtedly how it felt…feels? His fingers twitch of their own accord. Jungkook shakes his head at the fucked up absurdity of it.

It’s a blessing as much as it is a curse as Jimin and Yoongi engage in a lengthy exchange about the sample Yoongi sent him. Jungkook allows himself to get lost in his own thoughts, letting everything else fade to a buzz in his ears.

Jungkook can’t seem to keep his eyes off Yoongi. Especially when he exchanges his coffee for an acoustic guitar and begins to strum a chorded melody that Jimin bobs his head along to. Yoongi’s fingers pluck at the strings, and suddenly, the sound is as familiar as the soft inhale and exhale of Jungkook’s own breath.

Strong, deft fingers move along the six coarse strings lining the neck of the wooden lute. They pluck out a hauntingly beautiful rhythm, one full of longing, hope, and passion.

“It is quite beautiful,” Jungkook says once the song comes to a close.

“Fittingly so. A beautiful song for an achingly beautiful man,” his lover murmurs in response.

The small drawing room is intimate, boasting only a few low-lying pieces of furniture that were covered with dust sheets just hours earlier. Jungkook sent word the second he slid off the back of his sweat-lathered horse, having ridden hard for hours in an effort to reach home—to get the man he loves with every fiber of his soul.

Jungkook tugs at the linen collar of his undershirt, the dusty travel doublet he wore over it long since discarded. The room is warm and a bit stuffy after being shut up for the several months Jungkook was away on duty. But, the man lounging across from him, lute held across his lap, is all the freshness Jungkook needs.

“It is unbecoming of a Lord to jest so,” Jungkook teases, knowing it’ll earn him a bit of heated, albeit delicious, retaliation later.

Yoongi sets aside the lute, dark eyes full of coy mirth trained on Jungkook. “Do I look a minstrel to you?”

“No.”

The sudden outburst startles Jimin and Yoongi, the pair falling into silence as they both look at Jungkook like he’s lost his mind. Perhaps he has. Jungkook swallows hard and rubs a hand over his face, his eyes landing once more on Yoongi when his hand falls back to his lap.

“No, what?” Jimin asks. “You don’t like the song?”

“Huh? I didn’t…I mean, what did you ask?” Jungkook stammers out, trying to sift through what’s reality and what’s…he’s not even sure at this point. Are they memories? Daydreams? Flashbacks of past lives?

“Yoongi asked how you liked the song.” Jimin glowers at Jungkook, arms crossed over his chest. Clearly annoyed by Jungkook’s lapse in attention. “Were you too busy drooling over Yoongi’s hands to listen? I saw you staring.”

Jungkook frowns, casting a furtive glance at Jimin before turning his attention to Yoongi. “It’s a fine song, I guess.”

“I have some lyrics written up if you’d like to give it a try,” Yoongi explains, voice slow and deliberate in a teasing way. One of his dark brows quirks up, mirth, not unlike the coyness he saw moments ago, twinkling in his eyes.

He’s clearly enjoying Jungkook’s distress. For a moment, Jungkook wonders if Yoongi, too, witnessed the vision. By the subtle tilt of his mouth, though, Jungkook believes he has his answer. 

Shrugging and trying to seem as nonchalant as Yoongi, Jungkook says, “Sure. Whatever. Let’s just do this.”

Yoongi pushes up from his chair and nods toward the door leading to the recording booth. “I’ll help you get set up.”

With one last look at Jimin, who now has that shit-eating grin back on his face, Jungkook gathers the tattered remains of his resistance and follows. His thoughts mirror the same ones he had the night Yoongi came to confront him. He can deny it, he can fight it…but there is no point—not anymore. He’s only torturing himself at this point.

But how is he supposed to cast off a life’s worth of doubt and belief to chase a whimsical delusion? Only it’s not a delusion, is it? Jungkook supposes that should be the first step: stop thinking of this as something from a fantasy novel and more like very much his reality.

“Hey, uh—” Jungkook starts to say but cuts himself off when the door to the sound booth closes behind him. Yoongi turns to the side and begins to adjust the height of the recording mic. His eyes cut Jungkook’s way expectantly, and Jungkook needs to swallow around the knot in his throat before pressing on. “I just wanted to say that I am sorry.”

“For?” Yoongi probes as his fingers continue to work, twisting and turning various knobs on the mic stand.

Jungkook’s first instinct is to respond with acid, some cutting one-liner to express his annoyance, but it dies on his tongue as Yoongi finishes with the mic and turns to give Jungkook his full attention.

At this moment, sequestered in the quiet space of the recording booth, the connection to Yoongi hits Jungkook so hard that his knees become weak. He has to steady himself with a hand against the padded wall to keep from turning into a puddle on the floor.

“Just forget it,” Jungkook grumbles, shoving off from the wall and shaking his head. “What do I need to do?” He flicks a hand in the air toward the mic. “Where are the lyrics?”

Yoongi narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else; he just pulls his phone out of his pocket and wakes the screen up. A moment later, he’s handing it over to Jungkook with a text document opened.

Moving to the other side of the mic stand, Yoongi taps on the plexiglass window to get Jimin’s attention. He nods toward the switchboard panel and holds up two fingers. A second later, music filters through the sound booth.

“Give yourself a minute to get familiar with the beat. Choose whatever flow comes naturally to you. When you’re ready, pop on the headphones, and we’ll give it a shot.” Yoongi delivers his instructions in an emotionless monotone, which knots Jungkook’s insides. He mentally kicks himself for continuing to be an asshole. He wants to backtrack a few minutes and apologize once again, but he’s at a complete loss for words right now.

So, instead of blundering further, he focuses his attention on the phone screen and lets the melody coming through the speakers wash over him. It’s a stunning piece of music, even in its raw and unfinished form. The lyrics are emotional, speaking of an unobtainable love and the struggle of not losing who you are through it.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Jungkook has the headphones on and begins to test his vocals, trying not to focus too hard on the fact that instead of leaving the booth and controlling everything from the other side, Yoongi is choosing to stay here.

It’s been a few years since Jungkook sang with any real heart. Though it has always been his secret passion, it’s a dream he never pursued because he always felt like something was missing for him, which is why he has found himself pursuing other forms of art instead.

But here, in this tiny space with a devastatingly handsome man watching on, Jungkook finds himself at peace with the natural fluidity of stringing together words with a flowing melody and, so, he lets go and sings.

💞💞💞

Yoongi

“A minstrel? Perhaps not. But most assuredly, a man that is as pleasing to listen to as he is to look upon, no matter your muse.”

Yoongi basks in the praise, lapping it up like the smooth malt of a fine ale. “Says the man with a voice to rival the compositions of Byrd. Serenade me, my love, let me hear you, for it has been far too long since I heard your song.”

With every blink of Yoongi’s eyes, his vision flickers between this moment and the other. Jungkook croons the words, flowing easily from one line of lyric to the next. If Yoongi hadn’t just written the song lyrics this morning, he’d almost believe Jungkook had heard it before. Though perhaps he has, Yoongi thinks as the scene flickers again, merging this life with another.

The pieces fit together even more perfectly than before. Yoongi knows who Jungkook is to him; he has already accepted the idea of a soulmate. Now, however, it’s seemingly more than that all at once. He’s not just some predestined lover tied to Yoongi by fate.

No, he is so much more than that. This is so much more than that.

It’s an inevitable meeting of burning hearts that’s been a thousand years in the making. Lifetime after lifetime, providence in flesh and soul. Stars that are forever pulled into the same orbit again and again.

As Yoongi listens to Jungkook sing, he hears the same voice repeated over a multitude of lifetimes—the ballad of their everlasting souls coming together once more. His vision tints green, and with every breath he takes, his chest grows tight with emotion.

Jungkook’s eyes meet Yoongi’s over the top edge of the phone, so full of acceptance that was not evident there before but now shines as bright as the sun. The song trails off, taking with it the last lilting note of Jungkook’s enrapturing tenor. Silence falls in the small space, making room for a thousand unspoken words—a thousand lifetimes of love shared between ever-connected souls.

“Yoongi.” His name a fervent whisper falling from Jungkook’s mouth.

“Still want to deny this?” Yoongi asks in a voice just as soft.

The laugh that slips from Jungkook is pained, a sad sound that holds no humor at all. “I…I can’t. Not anymore. I’m sorry I ever did. Sorry I’ve been such an asshole. I think—I’m not sure what I think, honestly. It’s kind of scary, though, you know?”

“Scary?” Yoongi asks, curious about what is so frightening about this beautiful revelation.

“Do you not find the fact that your whole life isn’t your own a little scary? Or at least doesn’t piss you off to know that you have no free will in this world? What’s the point if all the decisions we make are predestined?” Jungkook slides the headphones off and hooks them around the neck of the mic stand. “I just want my life to mean something, and now it’s…is it even my life anymore?”

It dawns on Yoongi now that Jungkook, despite being a raging jackass sometimes, has a valid point. To an extent, at least. That’s not something that Yoongi has actually thought about or considered a problem. Whether his life is of his own choices or some form of Fate pulling strings, it’s still his life…and he thinks it’s worth living to its highest potential no matter the how.

“Do you want it to be your life?” Yoongi asks hesitantly.

When Jungkook swallows, the chords of his throat contract and Yoongi suddenly urges him to reach out and soothe his fingers down the rigid muscles. Instead, he finds himself cupping a hand along Jungkook's jaw, his thumb brushing over the smooth skin of his cheek.

“If I say yes, how do I know it’s really me saying yes and not just some predetermined script in my head?” Jungkook leans into Yoongi’s touch, clearly seeking some sort of comfort, which Yoongi is eager to provide.

Yoongi thinks for a moment and decides it would be a disservice to try and sugar-coat it or lie. “I suppose you don’t. But, I think that’s okay…as long as it feels good, feels right. Does it feel right to you? Here, does it feel right in here?” he asks, pressing his other hand to the center of Jungkook’s chest.

The deep inhale of breath Jungkook takes expands his chest under Yoongi’s hand, and as he exhales, he can feel the frantic thump of Jungkook’s heart as it beats a staccato rhythm which Yoongi knows is echoed in his own chest.

A glossy shine forms in Jungkook's eyes, and he cracks a smile that immediately lifts tremendous weight from Yoongi’s shoulders. Jungkook laughs—this time, it’s more giddy than caustic.

“It does feel right. It feels good, so good,” he confirms with a slight nod. “I won’t lie and say I know what any of these means…but I think I’m willing to find out. If you’ll forgive me for being a prick.”

“I think this is a great start,” Yoongi says, mirroring Jungkook’s smile.

“Umm, does someone want to explain what’s happening in there?” Jimin’s voice coming through the speakers breaks through the tender moment, making both Jungkook and Yoongi laugh.

It feels good that Jungkook doesn’t pull away with the interruption from Jimin. Much to Yoongi’s delighted surprise, Jungkook actually steps closer and slides an arm around Yoongi’s back.

Yoongi reaches over and clicks the communication button inside the booth. “You want to be the one to tell him?” he asks Jungkook.

“Soulmates, Jimin. That’s what’s going on,” Jungkook explains before sliding the fingers of his other hand into Yoongi’s hair and using it as an anchor.

A small startled gasp escapes Yoongi before it’s swallowed by Jungkook, his mouth slotting over Yoongi’s. They have kissed one time before, in the sauna. But that was all savagery and pain. This kiss, though…this is the culmination of weeks of fears, longing, and, ultimately, acceptance. It tastes sweeter than anything Yoongi’s ever had grace his lips.

It’s a startling moment, feeling the entire world shift beneath his feet. There are theories about soulmates and what it means when your soul finds its like. But everything Yoongi read doesn’t even begin to hold a flame to this conflagration burning hot in his veins.

Jungkook is a song forever branded on Yoongi’s being, etched right into the very marrow of his bones. No matter when or where; he will always know.

“A thousand lifetimes, and it’s always you,” Jungkook murmurs, reflecting the very thought growing in Yoongi’s mind. “Always you.”

6 Months Later

Jungkook stretches his arms over his head, his lean body pulling tight. He covers a yawn with the back of his hand and jumps when a set of arms wraps around him from behind.

“Have I told you how good you look without a shirt on?” Yoongi asks, nuzzling into the bare skin between Jungkook’s shoulder blades.

His back is slick with perspiration, but Yoongi doesn’t mind. He loves the faint kiss of salt he can taste on his lips when he smiles against Jungkook’s warm skin.

“Maybe once or twice.”

Yoongi chuckles, voice dropping low, “Mmm, shame on me, then.”

The last six months have been filled with an endless exchange of compliments and passionate exploring. No matter how much time they spend together, it never seems to be enough to satiate one or the other.

Yoongi has had Jungkook in his recording booth more times than he can count. The pure magic that comes out of that man has never failed to awe him. Jungkook’s talent is beyond immeasurable. He finished his apprenticeship at Electric Fox and has since started doing private sessions in his spare time out of the studio that Yoongi turned the other spare bedroom into for him.

They don’t live together—yet—as there is still some time left on the lease Jungkook signed with Taehyung and Jimin. But, as soon as it’s up in a few months, Jungkook wants nothing more than to move in. As it is, he spends nearly every waking moment—and let’s be honest, every sleeping one, too—with Yoongi.

“Are you done with work or just taking a break?” Jungkook asks before turning to face Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugs. “I’m done enough. Just wanted to see how things were coming along out here.”

Jungkook has spent the majority of his morning assembling a new set of bookcases in Yoongi’s living room.

“Just about done.”

They both survey the progress, and Yoongi pats Jungkook on the ass affectionately. “You’re so good to me. Thank you for putting these together. I swear they would still sit in the closet if it weren’t for you.”

“Shouldn’t take me too much longer. I’m going to grab a shower when I finish. Join me?”

Yoongi’s face lights up with mischief. “Finish tomorrow,” he fake pouts, dramatically pushing his bottom lip out.

“How can I say no to that?” Jungkook laughs, nipping at the extended lip. The bite melts into a kiss that deepens by the second until they’re both left breathless as they fumble down the hall. Deft fingers make quick work of clothes, leaving a trail that leads from the living room to the bathroom.

The water is cold, Jungkook not paying enough attention to the knobs when he turns them. But with the heat they’re creating, neither seems to notice or care.

“You feel so good,” Yoongi groans, pressing himself firmly against Jungkook’s front. Their rigid cocks slide against one another, drawing twin moans from their throats.

Jungkook smirks, nipping at Yoongi’s bottom lip before spinning him around and pressing him against the shower wall and then lowering to kneel on the tiled floor of the shower. “Not as good as this will feel.”

It’s a sight Jungkook revels in, Yoongi towering over him with his chest heaving and eyes hooded with desire. Typically, Jungkook is more the dominant one, but there is something about being on his knees in front of Yoongi that makes him feel so powerful.

Perhaps it’s the way he can make Yoongi gasp and moan with the featherlight kisses he presses to the thick shaft of Yoongi’s cock. Or the way he makes Yoongi pant his name when he uses his other hand to cup the heavy sack beneath it.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” Yoongi sighs. His head tips back, and one of his hands catches at the back of Jungkook’s head, encouraging him to stop teasing and give them both what they want.

Yoongi’s body trembles with anticipation as Jungkook continues to brush his lips along his erection, all the way from root to tip and back again. Finally, with a soft groan, Jungkook lets the tip of Yoongi’s cock slide between his lips.

The flavor of his lover bursts on his tongue, salty-sweet mixed with the neutrality of the water pelting down from above. It helps slick the way for Jungkook’s mouth. His lips grow warm as they pass up and down with each bob of his head.

Jungkook has spent the last six months becoming intimately familiar with Yoongi’s body. He is delighted in figuring out every little thing that makes his lover tick. Knowing just what Yoongi needs right now, Jungkook hollows his cheeks as he pulls back until the head of Yoongi’s cock pops from between his lips.

“Suck,” Jungkook commands, holding his fingers up to Yoongi’s lips. A soft rumble starts in Jungkook’s chest as he watches Yoongi slowly part his lips and take his middle and index fingers into his mouth. The warmth of Yoongi’s tongue rubs over the undersides of Jungkook’s fingers and then works between them, thoroughly coating them. “Good. Good, so good, Yoongi.”

Saliva strings from the tip of Yoongi’s tongue to the pads of Jungkook’s fingers as he withdraws them. It snaps, the strand getting lost among the cascade of droplets clinging to Yoongi’s skin.

Jungkook brings his hand down and between Yoongi’s thighs. Yoongi's chest swells with a deep breath as Jungkook rubs his slippery fingers over the puckered rim of Yoongi’s ass.

“Koo,” Yoongi moans, toes curling and eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck. Suck me. Make me fill your throat with my cum.”

“Say please,” Jungkook coos, working the tip of his index finger slowly inside the warm clasp of Yoongi’s body.

Yoongi fists a hand into Jungkook's hair and wraps his hand around the base of his cock with the other. “Now.”

Delicious shivers run down Jungkook’s spine from the flash of dominance in Yoongi. “Someone’s bossy today.” The teasing does exactly what Jungkook was hoping for.

“Please, Koo. Please suck me and make me feel goo—fuck!” Yoongi’s words turn into a guttural curse as Jungkook takes him all the way into the back of his throat at the same time, he seats his fingers in his ass completely.

It’s like the first time, lifetimes ago, all over again. This isn’t just the coming together of physical bodies seeking moments of pleasure; it’s a kindling of souls ripe with lasting devotion that sees no wear from the passage of time.

“I love you,” Jungkook mumbles around the head of Yoongi’s cock before taking him in once more.

He works his finger in tandem with his mouth and tongue until Yoongi grunts and loses himself to the pleasure. “I love you,” Yoongi rumbles, the low tone hooking on a moan as his release ribbons across Jungkook’s tongue and down his throat.

The kiss they share when Jungkook stands is sweet, a soft contrast to the heated release from seconds before.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how much you mean to me and how truly sorry I am for ever denying this. I don’t deserve you,” Jungkook says. He rests his forehead against Yoongi’s, their breaths mingling. “I was such a fool.” “My fool,” Yoongi whispers in coy jest. “Now, sing for me while I reward myself for proving you wrong all those months ago and add another tantalizing memory for our future selves to enjoy.”

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-06-17 ColorMePurplex2

[yoonki-boonki]

the dark blue that is not yours to endure ♡

Rating: Teens and up

Relationships: Yoongi x Jungkook

Status: Finished (14,6k)

Tags: hurt/comfort, attempt at humor, age difference, bad at feelings

READ ON AO3

Summary:

Yoongi sells emotions and has replaced his core with metallic fireflies. Jungkook lives across the city, posts glimpses of his soul online, and feels the same sadness Yoongi does.

"Are you flirting with me through emails???"

[moccahobi]

Tangled Mess Masterlist

Summary: Hoseok has a gift. He can see the red strings that tie soulmates together. All his life he’s seen them and has seen the ways just about everyone seems to disregard them. Jaded to the prospect of finding his soulmate and confused by the idea of romance and soulmates, he is lost for what to do when he meets his own soulmate in the most inopportune ways.  Yoongi has a skill: emotional repression. He knows what he wants in life but feels unable to do anything to get many of those goals. Isolated and frustrated, he feels like he is trapped in his room, triaging his life.  The two watch from the sidelines, rooted in place and unable to do anything to bring them closer to love and connection.

Pairings: Hoseok x GN Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook

Genre: Soulmate AU, Grad School AU, Young Professional AU, Angst, Fluff

Series Warnings: A breakup

Planned Schedule: Wednesdays

Masterlist last updated: 2/4/2024

A/N: I may get behind on updating links, but all the fics and the masterlist will have the tag "series: tangled mess" if the links aren't updated~

Part 1: The Meeting

Part 2: Game Night 1

Part 3: Tight Elastic

Part 4: Something's Cooking

Part 5: Solitare

Part 6: Game Night 2

Part 7: Coffee and Conversations

Part 8: Sheep Farm

Part 9: Together

Part 10: Our Place

Part 11: To-Go Food

Part 12: Changes

Part 13: Other's Secrets

Part 14:

[sglossmin]

MUSE | MYG pt. 2

Plot: What happens when the man you practically simp over in high school, is right now, sitting across you after almost 10 years of not seeing him? Worse? You’re here for an appointment for therapy and he’s your psychologist.

Pairing: SeniorStudent!Yoongi x JuniorStudent!Reader —> Psychologist! Yoongi x Artist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, slight age gap, slice of life, a bit of angst, schoolmates to lovers(?) Change povs, I think you guys will be interested hehe

Warnings: talks about mental and death…erm lemme know if you found any disturbing heh

Word count: dunno

A/N: Here's the part 2 guys!!! Thanks for liking the first part!! As I said it's my first time doing this and it already feels soooo great. I hope I won't disappoint anyone:<< Thank you for reading!! (I pulled all nighters last night to finish the first part ngl. I only read it twice, it seemed fine but anyways, tell me if I'm lacking or u don't understand something!) Also, I really don't know if psychologists work like this heh. Happy reading!

Comment your @ if you guys want to be added on taglist! That's what tumblr authors do, right?

Part 1 read here^^

His voice ringed in my ears.

Exactly...He was right.

Jeon Y/n, what happened?

I shook my head and nervously chuckled away my thoughts. Can I do this with a doctor? Should I just keep on hiding away my thoughts? Isn't the reason I paid to be here was so I can let myself sink in my emotions and thoughts without drowning?

With him across me, his hazel eyes looking with such concern, how can I?

By the time I heard the name of the doctor, I knew it was too familiar. Yet, I shrugged it off thinking there's thousands of people who has the same name.

I was wrong.

Clearing my throat, I looked at everywhere but him.

"Maybe it was the fatigue. I had a lot of different clients in a while, some of them were really just.." I hissed, also half chuckling—if that's even a thing.

Why am I always like this? Why do I keep on lighting up the mood instead of diving deeper?

Was I afraid to drown?

No.

I'm afraid that while drowning, no one would even bother to save me.

"You had a hard time dealing with clients?" Yoongi asked as he tilt his head writing down every words of mine.

This scene felt too familiar. I didn't even realized that I let out a snort, he looked at me with a frown.

I let out a nervous chuckle before clearing myself, "Don't get me wrong. It's just, I met a couple of journalists already, and...well... you look like one. I mean, I know it's just part of the procedure. I just really have a crack in my head."

Yoongi's eyes widen. "You had a head fracture? Why didn't you tell me? Since when did it happen and why-"

I cut him off by shaking my hands off , "N-no...no, it's not like that. It was uh... a joke. Sorry." I bit my lip.

Gosh, this is embarrassing.

He sighed and nodded. "That's good to know."

The session continued. We talked about how some coping mechanism that can help me reduce my anxiety. Yoongi also said that it'd be great if I can tell him what triggered me to feel this way.

"Right... I haven't told him."

I remembered while munching the tangerines I bought last time. It was late at night and I was finishing the landscape that my daughter's client wanted. It was a rather fantasy-looking painting. Like in those manhwas. They paid me big time for this, I should at least do my best if I wanna retire early. My back ached for having a hunched position for a long time.

"I should've paid to go to yoga classes instead of therapy..." I yawned.

Lost in my thoughts, I heard a car sound. Someone just parked their car probably since it seemed like the engine went off.

"Who's visiting me at this hour- Wait, right. Someone lives across me who actually drives now."

Too used on having the old Kim's as the neighbor, I forgot.

My phone rang and I sighed as soon as I saw the caller's ID.

"Yes? What do I owe the pleasure of having my sweet, lovely, sexy manager Park to call me late at this hour? Another plagiarism?'' My voice full of intent of sarcasm made me imagine my manager roll his eyes.

A few seconds of silence before he answered, "Are you okay?"

What? The crap this dumbass talking about.

"Still alive... yeah"

It wasn't really weird for him to ask me that since other than being coworkers, we're also friends. The weird thing is, calling me late at night just to check me up.

Receiving a text message saying, "Don't catch cold, keep warm" or "Make sure you eat." even at late at night—understandable—but calling? Not a Jimin thing.

"I got a report that you went to a mental clinic." His voice were laced of concern.

"Oh that, I was just, uh... Heard there was a free mental check up, so why not grab it?"

Even with just a phone call, I can already feel his intense glare toward me.

"Don't lie. I already checked the clinic. They don't have stuffs like that. Tell me why you're there, Jeon Y/n"

Shit. He called me by my full name. He's the worst when he's mad.

Should I tell him? But I swear, he'll just gonna bomb me with tons of questions. He might even pull off the client's demand. Gonna force me to take the time off. Care for me like a sick victorian child.

Taking a time off is the least thing I need right now. With these drawings, I can have a peaceful mind once in a while. Not caring or thinking about anything in the world, just focused on making a masterpiece someone would love.

I cleared my throat, I knew Jimin was just concerned about me, which made me feel even more bad. "I was just... visiting an old friend."

"Really, huh?" He spit, obviously not believing me.

"A schoolmate of mine works there. He's a doctor there." Unfortunately.

Jimin sighed. "You know Y/n, you can tell me anything. I'm not just your manager-"

"But a close friend. Yeah yeah, I know that. I always thank you for being that. But don't worry. I'm fineeee. Get your good night sleep and contact Mr Jung and tell him the artwork is done, okay?"

He told me once again how he cares before he hangs up.

Realizing that I've been just staying in the house for too long, an idea came up to my pretty head.

"Should I play with Jungkook tomorrow?"

I called Jungkook last night and he agreed. We're going to play badminton early in the morning before I go to my appointment with Mr Jung.

The sun is about to rise yet Jungkook is nowhere to be found. I waited for him in the playground in the neighborhood. Called him multiple times yet he didn't answer. I held the racket in my fist.

"Whoa...is he getting back at me since I didn't showed up for lunch last time?" I clicked my tongue and was about to go home till I heard someone call me.

"Ms Jeon!"

I turned my head towards the voice. It was Yoongi, he was slightly covered in sweat. Seems like he's been running for some quite time. Never thought he's a morning person.

He ran towards me with a smile. What a scenery...

"You're playing?" He asked, looking at the racket in my hand.

We played for a while. The sound of each other's laugh filled the playground. After multiple times of out scoring him, we sat down. Panting and drenched with sweat. Smile in our faces never seem to leave.

"Still good as ever." He said as he gulped down the water. "Too bad, you lost back then cause you don't know how to serve," he chuckled. His precious gummy smile flashing at me.

"You remembered?"

Spring 2011

Sports week.

The time where all of the students are completely engaged in a school activity.

We had basketball, volleyball, table tennis, cheer dance, pageant, badminton, and a lot of other stuffs really. It is the only time in the year where students can show off their talents.

D-1

I never really thought Min Yoongi was an athletic type. He's slim and so pale, he doesn't look like he goes out in their house at all.

But here I am, squealing and cheering over him—along side with the other thousands of students.

Yeah, well, what can I say? A lot of people want to cheer him.

He probably didn't even notice that I was in the crowd, chanting his name as if it'll help.

"GO MIN YOONGI!!! TAKE THOSE FUCKERS DOWN!"

"Young lady! Such a fowl language." The old teacher clicked her tongue.

I bowed and apologize.

"Here, carry these files for me and let's go to the guidance."

"P-pardon?" I gape at her and she just gave me a stack of paper and walked away. I followed and went with her.

Right after I finished writing 'I'm sorry, I won't curse anymore' in a three page yellow paper, back to back, their game was finished.

"They were literally lifting him up. And everyone was chanting his name." Chae said as she munched down my food. "Too bad you weren't able to see it."

I sighed. "It's fine. It's not like he'll notice." I sulked at my chair like a child.

"But he was frowning. Seems like annoyed or something. Like he doesn't even care that they won."

Why is he scowling when they won?

"So what day are you playing again?" Sana changed the subject.

"Day 3..." I even lost my appetite to the point I just let Chae eat my food. "I only participated because they'll give us additional grade, so the game doesn't really matter. I can lose in the first round and I wouldn't care"

Sitting up straight, I had an idea, "You know what? I'll lose in the first round, in that way I wouldn't have to work that hard."

"But wouldn't it be nice if you'll win? I mean... Neko won the championship..." Chae said. What a great way to ruin a foolproof plan.

But she has a point.

And it's stupid.

"He probably won't watch it. He'd rather stay in their classroom. Neko have always been like that." I snort.

That night, I wondered, what it feels like to have Min Yoongi to cheer for me?

D-3

There wasn't really much crowd during our game, which wasn't a surprise. During sport fest, the first and the last day only matters. Unless the players were the teachers. Seeing them play with the risk of slipping, their arthritis aching, big bellies bouncing, oh it is fun to watch. Especially when you root for the nicest teacher to win and talk shit behind when the most hated teacher comes in.

A fun time to enjoy ourselves before the school year comes to an end.

"Go Y/n!"

I glared at some of my friends as they shouted my name.

Why are they making such a big deal out of this? Tsk.

A small grin tugged my lips as the game is about to start. Do I love the attention and support they're giving me? Maybe... Will I admit it? When a dog grows its wing, perhaps.

The opponent served and I swiftly hit it back. I didn't hit it with much force but it went high and far, but still close enough to be counted as my point. In my defense, the shuttlecock landed perfectly on my racket that's why with even a less force, it bounced back that far.

One point for me, great.

I smirked, feeling a little bit of accomplishment.

It's my time to serve. The time I threw the shuttlecock at the air, a teacher called in.

"You can't serve like that, dear. You're playing badminton, not tennis." The teacher chuckled and made me do it again.

I really hate this kind of serve.

I did it the way it was supposed to be in the first place, hitting the shuttlecock, it still bounce back nicely. As I was about to hit it again, I caught a glimpse of him. My strike went too hard that it was considered out.

"Why is he here?" I mumbled while I unknowingly pout. Just slightly.

Jeon Y/n, he studies here and you don't own the school.

As if he heard my thoughts, our eyes met. His lips went slightly upward.

He's smiling at me- Oh... the bastard is smirking.

As if he knew his effect on me, he looked at me, almost mockingly.

Chaeyoung was right. I'll win this thing so I can remove that idiot's oddly hot smirk.

I focused on the game even more that I won every round till I made it to the championship. Even if one of us lose, it'll be titled as second.

But I've been second my whole life...

Time to turn the tables now.

Suprisingly, Yoongi watched the whole match. It did something in my stomach. Not in a diarrhea nor stomach ache thing, but you know, those birds in the stomach? Is that it?

Whatever it's called, I'm sure that's what I'm feeling right now.

I have to win this.

The last match started, even if there'll be times my serve didn't even surpass the net, I surely make sure that I'll get to hit it just right when I receive it. Our score's gap isn't that big, yet a two score points is still a hindrance for me.

I was panting so heavily, my body drenched in sweat...one score, that's all she need to win, and for me to lose.

Focus on the shuttlecock.

Hit it.

Run.

You have to win.

While blocking the opponent's strike, I went too fast... I tripped.

I sighed. Even if I didn't trip, I already lost. I tried to hit it too fast, had an imbalance position, and tripped. It was already bound to happen.

My friends and teachers ran towards me. All of them were worried, even my opponent went to me.

I laughed. It wasn't even serious. Slowly, my body felt fatigue. Losing its adrenaline, I just sat. I smiled at them saying I was fine. Physically, yes. But emotionally? I want to cry.

It was stupid and immature, I knew that. Yet I couldn't help but feel that aching feeling. By the time I stood up, he was nowhere to be seen.

"You didn't even bother to check up on me." I scrunched up my nose as I glared at him playfully.

"So you were looking for me?" He teased.

I gape at him, loss at words. "Well- It's-Uh-"

"Holding a grudge on me now, huh?" Yoongi teased even more. Grinning ear to ear as he made fun out of me.

Spring 2011 (MYG POV)

D-1

Ugh... Sports week.

Annoying crowd, annoying noises, annoying games- Hold—I actually like playing. I just don't really like the unnecessary stuffs.

Playing basketball might be the only thing I like in this school. Academics aren't that important if you're hardworking and trustworthy person.

She's really crazy.

I don't even have to look who it is. Hearing her cheer my name really gave me a boost of adrenaline.

I smirked without even realizing.

Guess I have to win this thing.

Our game continued, having a big gap already with the opposing team.

"GO MIN YOONGI!!! TAKE THOSE FUCKERS DOWN!"

I chuckled as I heard her shout that. Shooting another score, the crowd went wild.

It wasn't even the halftime yet I couldn't hear her anymore. The game goes on without her cheer. I searched the crowd—nowhere.

In the end, even after we won, all my eyes could do was search for her. Thank God, the guys lifted me up so I get to search for her even better.

Still. Nowhere.

She didn't even watch the whole game. Pfft.

Passing by in the hallway, I heard two students talking a few steps ahead of me about someone was brought in the guidance.

"Yeah, it was so funny. The girl beside me was like 'Go Min Yoongi! Take those fuckers down!' Then that known veteran strict teacher heard her and she was straight sent to the guidance." The girl laughed as she told it to her friend.

She was sent to the guidance?

I burst out laughing, making the two to look at me weirdly. Not caring in any ways, I laughed my ass out in the hallway.

It gave me a bit of an embarrassment, but I'll handle it later.

D-3

She plays sports too? Let's see how good you are, Jeon Y/n.

I smirked as our eyes met. Sitting down in one of the bench, I watched her play.

She's good. Too good actually. But I never saw her name in the official players list back then, so I supposed she's not a player. But with her playing like this? She can definitely.

I noticed how all her shots were almost perfect but when it comes to serving... Does she not know how to serve?

The game was becoming more intense as the time goes on. She was two score behind her opponent. With her expressions and body language, I can feel the...desperation? Even if she lose this round, she'll still earn a silver medal. But why was she gazing at her opponent like a lion ready to attack its prey.

A loud thud echoed in the court.

Was it the sound when she fell?

Or

Was it my heart dropping at the sight of her?

My eyes widened, everyone surrounded her as she fell. Even if I go right now to her, I wouldn't be any help.

Instead, I ran towards the clinic to get any medication that would help and brought an ice cold water for her. I did it as fast as I could. By the time I came back, no one was there. Only the teachers who were setting the place for the next game.

"Where is she? The girl who fell while playing?" I panted, pleading at the teacher's eyes to give me an answer.

"She's fine, child. She went back in her classroom already. No sign of any injuries." The teacher smiled reassuringly at him.

I sighed right as I heard that. I ran my fingers through my hair, looking at the things that I've bought.

I must've been crazy. She's making me crazy.

Yoongi and I talked about random stuffs as we walked back to our house. We had a bit of catching up with what's been going through our lives.

"You seem to ask a lot about me? It's not even our session yet."

He chuckled as he shook his head. "I wasn't being your doctor right now. I'm trying to be..."

A friend?

"a good neighbor." he smiled at me.

I don't know why but I felt my heart cracked. If not a patient, a neighbor. I guess that all we will ever be is like that. Not that I expect us to be something now that we reunited.

That would be stupid, right?

I chuckled, pretending as if his words didn't broke me.

"I see, you didn't even grew taller."

My head snapped at him. Gaping at him, I let out an airy chuckle. "Wow, as if you grew any taller, Mr Min. You were also the same height as you were in high school."

Yoongi huffed, putting his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie. "I grew a centimeter tall," he mumbled. Loud enough for me to hear.

I never thought I'll get to see this side of him. Sulky and pouty. My heart skipped a beat. The ones that I used to feel back then when we were younger. Due to the cold weather, his cheeks had a slight tint of pink.

I didn't even realize I stared at him for too long until he cleared his throat. I looked away, feeling like a child who got caught doing something forbidden.

"Have you...eaten?" he asked without even taking a glance at me.

He's asking me to eat with him??

I felt a kaleidoscope went wild in my stomach. My cheeks heated up as my whole body felt a wave of adrenaline. That feeling when you ate tons of sugar that won't make you sleep for a week.

I composed my self through clearing my throat, "No... have you?"

"Yeah! I found a breakfast diner just a few minutes walk away from here," he exclaimed. "Whoa, this neighborhood might be the best I've ever been. Have you tried there? Cause if not, you're missing out their specialties."

My head dropped, "Are you talking about Mr Juanito's diner?"

Yoongi nodded in response. His child-like grin never left his face.

If only looks could kill, he'd be a goner. My hands will snap his neck, burn his body near the forest-

"But I feel hungry now actually. I ran through half of the neighborhood then we played... Do you eat home cook dishes?" My train of thoughts stopped when he spoke. His head was slightly tilted as he looks at me.

This time, I didn't get my hopes up. He'll practically tell me how good he cooks or I should cook for myself. If only he's not that cute, I'll probably...probably...

Ugh! This isn't fair! He looks too cute for his own good.

I frowned, my thoughts were getting too heated that I couldn't even hide it. "Sometimes, when I'm not too busy." I tried to say it as calm as I could.

But my face has its own subtitle.

"Hm...then, would you want to eat with me? I'll cook, don't worry." Yoongi flashed me one of his sweet but shy smile. :]

I stopped my tracks making him stop too. I blinked—processing his words slowly.

"Ah, you don't have to if you have something to do. I proposed in case you're hungry-"

"Let's eat." I cut him off. Still feeling strange about him, I mustered all my courage just to say those two words. I couldn't believe that after almost ten years, he still has the same effect to me.

part 3 read here^^

A/N: okay... uh, I said I'll post this yesterday right..? heh Sorry, got busy. There'll be part 3 T^T Sorry guys if it's such a SLOWWW FCKING BURRNNN LIKE?? WHY YOONGI'S LIKE THIS T_T T_T T_T While writing this, I also felt the second hand embarrassment, and yeah...kinda giggle lmaoooo. Hope u guys won't resent me for posting a day later. I thought of finishing the whole story in pt 2 but it would take too long to write and I want you to guys to have something to read. This was supposed to be a short story, but while writing, i felt like this could lead into something more. So i just wanna build up the tension for now since it's been 10 years since they last met, it would feel unnatural for them to fall and shii right away, right? Maybe I'll end it in pt3? or...pt4 maybe?

[oursisthetear]

a thought about a major begins youth spoiler

of course dogeon tells hwan that jeha can't go to cein's funeral because he's at the hospital, i don't even wanna think what he did after witnessing the fucking transport in the ambulance, this series is the gift of pain that keeps of giving, i'm sick

[igwb]

drabble.

25 July, Year 22.

you can find the whole fic here!♡

There were times when Yoongi thought life might be worth it.

Like when the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft, fading hues, and for a brief moment, everything was still. The world outside—the people, the noise, the chaos—faded into the background.

And all that remained was Jungkook.

It was the kind of night when Yoongi found himself thinking, Maybe I could go for another year.

When he looked into Jungkook’s round eyes, wide with something between curiosity and understanding. When he listened to the softness of his voice, that familiar little lisp slipping through his words. Or when the right corner of his mouth would lift just slightly in excitement, a fleeting expression so pure it almost made Yoongi believe in something better.

It didn’t matter if Yoongi spoke or not, because what truly mattered was that he listened. And hell, he did.

If he could drink Jungkook’s words, let them sink deep into his bones, he would do it without hesitation. There was something about the way he spoke—his thoughts tumbling out as fast as his lips could form them, raw and unfiltered. Yoongi could see everything flashing through his beautiful mind, every spark, every fleeting idea, and he loved every inch of it.

It was one of those nights. The kind where the cold had begun to settle in, creeping through the cracks of autumn as November neared its end, December looming just around the corner. Yet, despite the biting air, they still found themselves by the shore.

Yoongi sat on a worn-out bench, shoulders hunched, hands buried deep inside his pockets. His beanie was pulled low over his ash-blond hair, shielding his ears from the chill. He hated the cold—hated the way it settled into his bones, stiffening his joints, making every movement feel like a fight. It was a terrible sensation.

But Jungkook… Jungkook seemed to love it.

Dressed in nothing but a dark hoodie and a thin jacket draped carelessly over his shoulders, he stood a few steps away, facing the waves. The wind toyed with his dark, untouched hair, sending strands flying in different directions, and his cheeks were dusted with a soft red from the cold.

He looked beautiful like that. Carefree. Alive.

Yoongi watched him, feeling something warm stir in his chest—a small, fleeting comfort in the middle of the freezing night.

“Are you even listening to me?” Jungkook finally asked, his voice laced with mock annoyance as he turned to face Yoongi.

The older boy blinked, seemingly pulled from whatever thoughts had trapped him. Jungkook didn’t want to ask what they were—he was afraid of the answer. He had learned, over time, that some of Yoongi’s silences were darker than others. The kind that made him disappear for days, locking himself away like a ghost trying to fade completely.

But tonight, it wasn’t one of those silences.

The mindless, almost amused smile still lingered on Yoongi’s lips, even as the cold had begun to chap them. It was a small reassurance, one that eased the tightness in Jungkook’s chest.

“You weren’t listening,” Jungkook accused, narrowing his eyes.

Yoongi huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I was,” he lied, the corners of his mouth quirking up just enough to give him away.

Yoongi hadn’t been listening—Jungkook was right about that. But not for the reasons he might have feared.

It wasn’t because his mind had spiraled into that familiar abyss, the one filled with thoughts he still refused to voice. Not because he was already thinking of the next time he’d have to isolate himself, locking the world out for a day or two. It still happened, sometimes. Even after coming back—after choosing to come back—on Jungkook’s eighteenth birthday three months ago, there were days when he simply couldn’t show up. Days when even the shore, the one place that felt like a safe haven, seemed too overwhelming. When he couldn’t bear the thought of meeting Jungkook’s gaze, knowing it would be filled with so much trust, so much belief in him.

But tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

And maybe he was getting better. The thoughts of death, once an unrelenting presence in his mind, hadn’t come knocking as much in the past two weeks. It wasn’t a miracle, and it wasn’t a cure. But it was something. A fragile, almost invisible thread of hope.

For the first time, Yoongi thought that he wasn’t entirely lost.

Seeing the way Jungkook shut down, biting the inside of his cheek until the metallic taste of blood coated his tongue, made something heavy settle in Yoongi’s chest. The younger let his feet dangle off the bench, eyes cast downward, lost in whatever thoughts Yoongi had unknowingly pushed him into.

And Yoongi knew he had failed again.

But this time, he didn’t run from it. Didn’t let the guilt consume him whole like he once would have. He didn’t let the fear of his own impact—the weight of his existence on Jungkook—send him spiraling. No, this time, he stayed.

With a small sigh, he tapped Jungkook’s thigh with the toe of his worn-out black Converse. The same pair he’d been wearing for years now, scuffed and faded, but still holding on—much like him.

“I swear I was listening, Guk,” he murmured, voice softer than usual.

Jungkook only hummed in response, noncommittal, clearly unimpressed. And that—that made Yoongi laugh.

Because sometimes, when he really looked at Jungkook, he could see just how young he still was. How soft. How, despite everything, there was still something gentle and untarnished within him.

And Yoongi would rather die than be the one to take that away.

Jungkook turned his face away, but Yoongi wasn’t having it. Without hesitation, he dipped his head lower, just enough to catch a glimpse of him. And the moment he did, he felt a grin tug at his own lips.

Because there it was—that familiar bunny smile, the one that made Jungkook’s nose scrunch up slightly, the one that softened the sharp edges of Yoongi’s world without even trying.

Yoongi shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Idiot,” he murmured, but there was no real bite to it. Only warmth, only fondness, only the kind of love that settled deep in his bones.

Because Jungkook was anything but an idiot. He was the brightest, sharpest, most stubborn person Yoongi had ever known. And Yoongi—no matter how much he tried to deny it—was so damn glad to have him.

“Then tell me—what was I saying?” Jungkook challenged, his voice laced with playful defiance as he pulled his knees to his chest, finally stilling his restless legs.

Yoongi hummed, dragging out the moment as if deep in thought. A smirk ghosted over his lips—one that had been appearing more and more these days, so much that he was sure his cheeks would start aching from it soon.

“You said…” he trailed off, then suddenly straightened up, attempting a terrible impression of a deep, heroic voice. “You wanted to become Iron Man.”

Jungkook stared at him, unimpressed.

Yoongi grinned wider, barely holding back his laughter. “What? You totally would.”

Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I never said that,” he muttered, hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

Yoongi gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest like he’d been personally offended. “Are you saying I wasn’t listening? Me? Min Yoongi? The most attentive person you’ve ever met?”

Jungkook turned to him, deadpan. “You thought I said I wanted to be Iron Man.”

Yoongi bit back a laugh, leaning back against the bench. “Honestly, wouldn’t put it past you. You do have the whole genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist thing going on.”

Jungkook scoffed again, but Yoongi could see the corners of his lips twitching.

“You weren’t listening,” Jungkook accused, but his voice was softer now.

Yoongi sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “Maybe not. But I was watching.”

Jungkook frowned slightly, confused. “Watching what?”

Yoongi turned to him, his gaze steady. “You.”

And for a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind carried the sound of the waves crashing in the distance, and Jungkook felt his heart stutter in his chest. Because Yoongi wasn’t teasing anymore. He wasn’t just messing around.

He was being honest.

Jungkook felt the warmth creeping up his neck, a soft blush coloring his face as he tried to suppress the laugh threatening to escape. It wasn’t because he was embarrassed by the unexpected honesty—no, it was more because he never imagined Yoongi would say something like that. Yoongi, who always built walls so high that Jungkook could barely see past them, had let down his guard for just a moment.

Those moments, the rare and precious ones, were the ones Jungkook treasured. The times when Yoongi would admit, in his own subtle way, that he cared.

And Jungkook loved that feeling—that quiet assurance. Even if it wasn’t something as explicit as “Hey, Jungkook, I love you,” something that would sound so foreign coming from Yoongi, it didn’t matter. It was enough. Because it was Yoongi.

“You were right, though. I said I wanted to be someone, something, but I never said I wanted to be Iron Man,” Jungkook admitted after what felt like a long pause. His voice was softer now, as if he was speaking more to himself than to Yoongi.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, resting his chin on his hand as if deep in thought. And he was—going over every conversation they had ever had. Every dream Jungkook had whispered into the night, from the small fourteen-year-old boy who barely reached his shoulder to the now eighteen-year-old who had long since outgrown him.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi admitted, almost shamefully, as if he had just failed the most important exam of his life. He had never cared about grades; he always figured they wouldn’t matter much in the long run—he never planned on growing old anyway. But this? This was different. This was Jungkook. And he wanted to get this right.

Yoongi parted his lips, ready to say something, anything, to ease the sudden tension that settled between them. He felt it the moment Jungkook lowered his gaze, fingers absentmindedly twisting the straps of his hoodie, the way he always did when he was trying to hold something back.

But before Yoongi could get a word out, Jungkook beat him to it.

“I said I wanted to be your brother.”

Yoongi felt his heart stop. His mind stilled, as if everything around him had frozen in time—everything except Jungkook, who was shifting restlessly where he sat on the ground. Like he was regretting saying it out loud. Like he was afraid of how Yoongi would react.

What if he had crossed a line? What if Yoongi never wanted to talk to him again?

Jungkook swallowed hard. The thought alone made his stomach turn. He thought, rather dramatically, that he’d rather throw himself into the sea right then and there if that were the case.

“My… brother?” Yoongi finally said, voice quiet, almost hesitant. He had heard Jungkook the first time, clear as day, but he needed to hear it again. Just once more. To make sure it was real. To make sure the warmth swelling in his chest wasn’t just a fleeting dream.

Jungkook nodded, his dark hair falling into his eyes, making him look younger than he was—too soft to be carrying the weight of such emotions, too soft to be hurting the way he did.

“Your older brother, even,” he added in a quiet, almost timid voice, like he was confessing a secret he had kept locked away for too long.

Yoongi scoffed, trying to mask the way his heart was hammering in his chest with a deep chuckle. “I should be the older one. You’re the baby here,” he teased, reaching out to ruffle Jungkook’s hair like a real older brother would.

It was such a simple, natural gesture, but to Jungkook, it was foreign. If someone had ever touched his hair before, it had only been to yank his head down, to shove him against the ground, to hurt him.

“No.” His voice came out sharper than intended as he instinctively swatted Yoongi’s hand away. Not because he didn’t like the touch—God, he loved it—but because he needed Yoongi to really listen. To understand the weight of what he was saying.

“I want to be your older brother,” he repeated, firmer this time. “So I can protect you. Shield you from everything.”

Yoongi stilled, his hands no longer fidgeting, his mind no longer searching for an escape from the weight of the moment. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, really thinking about what Jungkook had just said.

Because in a way—without even realizing it, or maybe he did, Yoongi wasn’t sure—Jungkook was already doing exactly that. He was already protecting him. Shielding him. Not in the way an older brother would, maybe, but in the way only Jungkook could.

He was a barrier against the demons in Yoongi’s head, a light in the darkness he had long accepted as home.

Jungkook was younger, but he was undoubtedly the strongest. Because even though he was hurting, even though Yoongi knew the pain ran deep, he still always put Yoongi first.

And Yoongi hated it. Hated that Jungkook carried that weight when he didn’t have to. But he also knew there was no stopping him. The kid was stubborn, and if he had decided something, there was no changing his mind.

So instead of fighting it, instead of rejecting the idea like he might have done once before, Yoongi let out a breath and simply said the truth—the unspoken truth that had always been there, lingering between them.

“You’re already my brother.”

It was everything. A confession without needing to be one. A vow that had existed long before either of them had dared to say it out loud.

Because Jungkook was his everything. His brother, his best friend, his soulmate, his lifeline. The reason he was still breathing despite every promise he had made to himself that he wouldn’t be here by now.

Jungkook was the reason he had started to imagine a future.

Not just twenty-one.

Maybe even twenty-five.

In that moment, they felt the same—like nothing in the world could come between them. Like the love of two brothers was strong enough to keep every violent demon at bay, to shield them from the darkness that had tried to consume them time and time again.

For the first time, they both felt that kind of happiness—the one they had only ever heard about but never dared to believe in.

The kind that settled deep in their bones, whispering that this, right here; it was the Most Beautiful Moment in Life.

[agustdenovo]

Eye of the Storm (Yoongi's POV.)

➻ pairing: hyyh yoongi x hyyh jungkook AKA min cein x jeon jeha

➻ genre: hyyh!au, based in the bangtan universe, pure angst bc is it ever anything else with these two? 😭

➻ summary: Yoongi can't live without Jung Kook. Yet, the only sensible thing to do is push him away, he tells himself.

➻ wordcount: 573

➻ released: 21st of june, 2024.

➻ author’s note: my first published work here hsjfshds this was honestly just something i wrote on a whim!! but!! i hope i've done these two justice, hyyh makes me bawl every 2-3 business days :')

disclaimer: i do not ship any of the actual bts members with each other, nor will i ever in the future. this is about hyyh yoonkook, characters from the BU, NOT the bts members yoongi and jungkook.

crossposted to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56794450

I am a whirlwind of destruction. A tsunami batters my heart, my head is ravaged by perpetual sandstorms and yet no force of nature can hope to inflict even an atom’s worth of damage as I have done so already.

I am a storm, and Jung Kook is right in the eye of mine. He stands there, unflinching, and I, like a coward, decide to abandon him once more.

The light in his eyes makes me violently ill.

“Why didn’t you go see Jung Kook? Don’t you know what you mean to him?”

He said my music makes him want to live. I can’t steal that away from him.

I know what I mean to him. Of course I do, which is why I can’t let him stay. He has stars in his eyes, and I pluck them right out with the coarse words climbing up my throat, leaving my lips like dry lumps of coal. And despite every bone in my body yearning to see his teeth peek out in that smile of his again, I shirk his gaze. He calls me hyung. I call him something far worse.

I can’t tell if I’m the pathetic one for always leaving, or Jung Kook for always staying. My arms are tattered with his claw marks from all the times he refused to let me go. They’re my favourite scars. I rub my arms raw, trying to make them disappear.

“Go home, Jung Kook.”

Futile. Streamers of light from his eyes wrap around me, trapping me, glueing my feet to the ground. No diamonds can even hope to compare with his, twinkling in his waterline from the misty yellow and blue lights from nearby skyscrapers.

I curse. I yell at him to go away, but he refuses to budge. His conviction is almost as strong as my anger.

Or maybe he’s just as stupid as me, because he walks over and gives me a hug; like he isn’t the Sun itself. And I, the Moon, foolishly orbiting Terra when my existence revolves around a star.

Warmth seeps into the crevices of my heart. Jung Kook wants to save a man cursed from his very creation. Cursed to cycles of dolour, a samsara of misery. Yet, I can’t muster up the energy to push him off. His arms around me feel like relief and torture all in one. Liquid drips onto my neck. Fruitless to ponder upon its source.

Only after a long minute does he let go. I stare into red-rimmed eyes. My voice sounds unfamiliar when I choke out the same words again, and I clench my fists until my jagged nails draw blood.

“Go home.”

Tonight seems like a good night for a stiff drink. I wonder if the corner store will still be open at this time, instead of thinking about the crestfallen look on Jung Kook’s face. No matter how many times I cause it, it will never cease feeling as if a dagger were twisted into my very soul.

“Promise me you’ll come see me tomorrow.”

I turn and walk away, before Jung Kook can say more.

Maybe if I pretend he isn’t there, he’ll leave and not foolishly come back, for once.

Maybe then I won’t be forced to spit out grimy words and act like it isn’t killing me, for once.

Maybe, that way, I’ll be able to save Jung Kook from my cursed fate, for ever.

[veeparkersstuff]

"You are not the world, but you are everything that makes the world good. Without you, my life would still exist, but that's all it would manage to do"-Maxon, The Selection👑

👗BTS as romantasy characters according to ChatGPT👗

(Like or reblog, don't repost pls💎)