Chapter Text
When did the laughter turn to quiet sighs,
The spark that lit our nights dissolve in muted skies?
Was it a moment, a whisper, a glance we missed,
Or years of silence cloaked in fleeting bliss?
When did we stop reaching for each other's hands,
Trading whispered dreams for quiet demands?
Was it comfort that dulled the edges so sharp,
Or neglect that unraveled the strings of our hearts?
What did we lack, what slipped through the cracks,
What love unspoken could have held us back?
Did routine replace the magic we knew,
Did time rob us of what felt so true?
I search for answers in the space between,
In the empty bed, in the love unseen.
Were we doomed to fade, a slow decay,
Or did we let love wither and stray?
How did we end up on separate shores,
When once our love could weather wars?
Now I'm left to ask in a quiet abyss,
How did we end up like this?
✨
The soft patter of rain against the window stirred something deep within me as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Jungkook's quiet breathing filled the room, but I couldn't sleep. My mind wandered back to a time when the silence between us wasn't heavy, when the air wasn't suffused with tension and heartbreak.
It was years ago, back when we were still discovering the magic of being together. Jungkook had been a whirlwind of energy and affection, always planning something to make me smile.
I remembered the night he took me to the park to watch the fireflies. He had packed a picnic basket with sandwiches and my favorite pastries, along with a blanket he insisted was "just for aesthetics."
"Who even says that?" I had laughed, but the grin on his face made my heart race.
When we got to the park, he spread out the blanket and handed me a small jar. "Firefly lantern," he explained, his eyes twinkling. "For when the stars aren't enough."
We spent the evening chasing fireflies, laughing like kids, and I thought my chest would burst with happiness.
Another memory surfaced—the time he cooked alongside me in the kitchen. It was our first anniversary, and we decided to make dinner together instead of going out.
"You're doing it wrong," I teased as he struggled to dice an onion.
"Excuse me," he shot back, mock offended. "I am a professional... in spirit."
The kitchen became a mess of flour, vegetables, and laughter, but the meal we made together was the best I'd ever tasted.
I remembered how he used to plan dates meticulously, leaving little notes in my bag or on the fridge to build anticipation.
"Dress warm," one note had read, followed by, "You'll thank me later."
That night, he had taken me to an outdoor ice rink. He had been terrible at skating, flailing his arms and clinging to the railing, but his laughter had been infectious. By the end of the night, we were both sprawled on the ice, breathless with laughter.
Even the simplest moments came rushing back—walking hand in hand through the city streets, sharing an umbrella in the rain, sitting on the couch with his head in my lap as we binge-watched some show neither of us cared about.
He used to look at me like I was the center of his universe. His eyes would light up when I entered the room, and his smile felt like home.
The memories hit me like a wave, their sweetness tinged with bitterness now. Where had that man gone? Where had we gone?
Somewhere along the way, life had crept in—the routines, the work, the quiet acceptance of things as they were. The dates became fewer, the laughter softer, the connection dimmer.
Had I stopped trying too? Had I let the weight of everyday life wear us down without realizing it?
I glanced at Jungkook, sleeping soundly beside me, his face softened by the glow of the moonlight. For a moment, he looked like the boy I fell in love with—the boy who used to make my heart race with just a glance.
My chest ached as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.
I missed him. I missed us.
But I didn't know if missing it was enough to bring it back.
I turned away, clutching the blanket tightly as the echoes of those sweeter times replayed in my mind. And as I lay there, I couldn't help but wonder if they were meant to be nothing more than memories now—beautiful but unreachable, like fireflies in a jar.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and I found myself sitting across from Jungkook at a small, bustling restaurant downtown. The faint hum of chatter and clinking cutlery filled the air, but all I could focus on was the awkward silence between us.
I hadn't wanted to come. When Jungkook suggested going out for a date, I immediately refused. The thought of sitting across from him, pretending everything was fine, felt unbearable. But I hadn't gone grocery shopping in days, and my hunger had gotten the better of me.
So here I was, hungry and uncomfortable, staring at the condensation on my glass of water while Jungkook sat across from me, looking exhausted but determined.
"Thanks for coming," he said, his voice breaking the silence. "I know you didn't want to."
I didn't respond right away, my eyes fixed on the table. "I didn't have much of a choice," I said finally, my tone flat.
He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. "I get it. I know you're angry. I know you're tired. But I just... I want to try, Jin. I want to make things right."
I glanced up at him, his face lined with fatigue. He looked like he hadn't slept well in days, his eyes shadowed but still bright with the determination that had always been so uniquely his.
"Why?" I asked quietly.
He blinked, startled by the question. "Why what?"
"Why are you trying so hard now?" I said, my voice trembling slightly. "Why couldn't you have tried before? Before it got this bad. Before I started looking for a way out."
Jungkook leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Because I didn't see it, Jin. I didn't see how far apart we'd drifted. I didn't realize how much I was hurting you. And I'm sorry for that—for all of it. But now that I see it, now that I know, I can't just let it go."
I looked away, my chest tightening as his words hit me. "It's not that simple, Jungkook. You can't just say you'll change and expect everything to go back to the way it was."
"I don't expect that," he said quickly. "I know it's going to take time. I know I've got a lot to make up for. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes. I'll persuade you a hundred times if I have to."
I let out a shaky breath, my fingers curling around the edge of the table. "Why? Why can't you just let me go?"
His voice softened, his eyes locking onto mine. "Because I love you, Jin. Because I've spent fifteen years with you, building a life with you, and I can't imagine my life without you. I won't agree to the divorce because there's no way I'm giving up on us."
The conviction in his voice was undeniable, and for a moment, it made my heart ache with something dangerously close to hope.
But then the server arrived with our food, breaking the moment. I looked down at my plate, the smell of freshly cooked pasta making my stomach growl despite the turmoil inside me.
We ate mostly in silence, the tension lingering like a third presence at the table. Jungkook kept glancing at me, his gaze heavy with unspoken words, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him.
As the meal went on, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was his last-ditch effort to hold onto something that was already slipping away.
And as much as I wanted to believe his promises, my doubts and insecurities loomed larger, like an insurmountable wall between us.
When we left the restaurant, Jungkook reached for my hand, his fingers brushing against mine. For a moment, I hesitated, the familiar warmth of his touch stirring something deep within me. But then I pulled away, shoving my hands into my pockets.
He didn't say anything, but the look on his face spoke volumes.
I turned away, staring at the busy street ahead, my heart heavy with the weight of his words and my own fears.
What if he's right? What if I'm giving up on something that could still be saved?
The drive home was as quiet as the restaurant had been. Jungkook kept glancing at me, but I avoided his gaze, staring out the window at the blur of streetlights and the darkening sky. My chest felt heavy, weighed down by the weight of his words from earlier.
When we arrived, I stepped out of the car without waiting for him, heading straight inside. I didn't want to linger in the same space as him any longer than I had to.
As I walked toward my room—my new room—I heard his footsteps behind me.
"Jin," he called softly.
I stopped but didn't turn around. "What is it, Jungkook?"
"Can you... can you spend the night with me?" he asked, his voice trembling.
I turned slightly, enough to see him standing a few steps behind me, his hands fidgeting nervously. His expression was a mixture of hope and desperation, and it made my chest tighten painfully.
"I don't think that's a good idea," I said quietly, shaking my head. "We've already talked about this."
"Please," he whispered, his voice so soft I almost didn't hear him. "Just for tonight. I... I don't think I can sleep alone."
"Jungkook—"
"Jin, please," he said, taking a step closer. His eyes glistened under the dim hallway light, and the vulnerability in his voice tugged at my heartstrings. "Just one night. That's all I'm asking. You don't have to say anything, you don't have to do anything. Just... be there. Please."
I stared at him, my resolve wavering. He looked so small, so lost, and something deep inside me cracked.
This wasn't about forgiveness or reconciliation. This was about giving him—giving us—a small moment of comfort in the middle of the storm we had been living in.
I sighed heavily, my shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine. Just for tonight."
Relief washed over his face, and he nodded quickly, stepping aside to let me lead the way.
The bedroom we used to share felt unfamiliar as I stepped inside, as though it belonged to strangers who had once known love. Jungkook quietly followed, closing the door behind him.
I hesitated by the edge of the bed, my heart racing as memories of countless nights spent in this room came rushing back. Nights filled with laughter, whispered dreams, and the warmth of his arms.
Now, those memories felt like a lifetime ago.
Jungkook climbed into bed first, settling on his side and waiting for me. I moved slowly, lying down on the opposite edge, keeping a careful distance between us.
For a moment, the only sound was our breathing, the room heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, I felt the mattress shift as Jungkook moved closer.
His arm wrapped around my waist hesitantly, as though afraid I might push him away. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For staying."
I stayed silent, staring at the ceiling as his arm tightened around me, pulling me closer. His touch was gentle but desperate, like he was clinging to me for dear life.
"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his lips brushing against my shoulder. "For everything. For not seeing you, for not trying harder. I'll never stop being sorry, Jin."
His words came in a flood, punctuated by quiet sobs. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts. Please don't leave me. Please."
Tears welled up in my eyes as his words pierced through me. I felt his lips press against my shoulder, my temple, my cheek, each kiss filled with an intensity that made my heart ache.
But even as I cried silently, I couldn't bring myself to respond.
I wanted to tell him I loved him too. That I missed him. That I wanted to believe in his promises. But the doubts, the insecurities, the years of pain—they held me back, building a wall I couldn't climb.
Instead, I lay there, letting him hold me, letting him pour out his heart as tears streamed down my face.
I told myself this was just one night. One final moment of closeness before the inevitable.
But as I drifted off to sleep in his arms, the weight of his love and my own unspoken feelings made it harder to breathe. And I couldn't help but wonder if letting go would ever truly feel right.
When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Jungkook. He was lying on his side, his head propped up on his hand, watching me with an expression that was both tender and pensive.
I blinked, disoriented for a moment, before frowning. "What are you doing?"
He smiled faintly, his gaze softening. "Waiting for you to wake up. You always look peaceful when you sleep."
I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling as his words settled over me. "You're being strange," I muttered.
"I wanted to talk to you before the day gets started," he said, his tone still gentle. "I don't want you working today."
I turned my head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because I have plans," he said simply.
"Plans?" I repeated, sitting up. "Jungkook, I told you—"
"No," he cut in firmly, sitting up as well. "I'm not taking no for an answer this time, Jin. Just... trust me for once, okay? Let me do this."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me. There was something in his eyes—determination, yes, but also a deep vulnerability.
"Fine," I said after a moment, sighing. "But only because I don't have the energy to fight you."
He grinned, his eyes lighting up for the first time in what felt like forever. "Good. Go get ready while I make breakfast."
By the time I finished getting dressed and came downstairs, Jungkook was waiting by the door with a small bag slung over his shoulder. Breakfast had been simple—toast and eggs—but he had insisted on sitting with me, chatting lightly about nothing in particular.
Now, as we stepped outside, I hesitated. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," he said cryptically, opening the car door for me.
I gave him a skeptical look but climbed in anyway. The drive was quiet, the familiar tension between us lingering, but Jungkook seemed... different. Lighter, maybe. As though he had decided to put everything on the line today.
When we arrived, I stared out the window in surprise. The lake stretched before us, shimmering under the morning sun. Couples dotted the shoreline, laughing and chatting as they paddled small boats across the water.
"This place..." I said softly, my voice trailing off as memories came rushing back.
Jungkook glanced at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Do you remember?"
Of course, I remembered. This was where he had taken me on our first date. I had been skeptical about the whole thing, thinking it was cliché and overly romantic, but Jungkook had insisted.
I could still hear his laughter from that day, ringing in my ears as we tried—and failed—to steer the paddleboat. We had gone in circles for half an hour, bumping into other boats and nearly tipping over more than once. By the end of it, I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe, my sides aching from the effort.
"You brought me here," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I did," he said, his smile widening. "I thought... maybe it was time to remind you of how it all started."
I hesitated, my chest tightening with a mix of emotions. "Jungkook..."
"Don't overthink it," he said quickly, reaching for my hand. "Let's just paddle for a bit. No pressure. No expectations."
I looked down at his hand, warmth spreading through me despite myself. Then, with a shaky sigh, I nodded.
The paddleboat wobbled slightly as we climbed in, and I couldn't help but laugh nervously. "This thing hasn't changed a bit."
"Still as unstable as we are," Jungkook joked, earning a small, reluctant smile from me.
As we started paddling, the familiar awkwardness returned. We weren't in sync, and the boat veered off to the side more than once. Jungkook groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair.
"Why is this still so hard?" he complained, a hint of laughter in his voice.
"Because you're bad at following directions," I teased, unable to stop the grin that tugged at my lips.
"Oh, so it's my fault now?" he shot back, his tone playful.
For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. We weren't two people on the verge of falling apart—we were just Jungkook and Seokjin, laughing and bickering on a boat that refused to cooperate.
When we finally managed to paddle toward the center of the lake, Jungkook leaned back, letting out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "We did it," he declared.
"Barely," I said, shaking my head.
He turned to me, his expression softening. "Thank you for coming, Jin. It means a lot."
I looked away, my chest tightening. "It doesn't change anything," I said quietly, though the words felt hollow.
"I know," he said, his voice gentle. "But I needed to remind you of us. Of what we had. And maybe... of what we can still have."
His words hung in the air, the ripples of the lake reflecting the sunlight as I stared out at the water.
And as much as I wanted to push him away, I couldn't deny the faint flicker of warmth his efforts brought me.
But the question still lingered in my mind: Was it enough?
The phone buzzed on my desk, pulling me away from the script I'd been editing for a commercial. I frowned, glancing at the screen. It was Jungkook.
I hesitated before answering, pressing the phone to my ear. "What is it, Jungkook?"
"Come downstairs," he said, his voice quiet but insistent.
"Why?"
"Just... trust me. Go to the backyard," he said before hanging up abruptly.
I sighed, staring at the phone in disbelief. It had been months, maybe even a year, since I'd set foot in the backyard. I'd avoided it, the once-vivid memories of lazy weekends and shared laughter taunting me every time I thought about stepping outside.
Reluctantly, I stood and made my way downstairs, my footsteps heavy. When I opened the door to the backyard, I froze.
Jungkook was standing in the middle of the yard, surrounded by soft string lights draped across the fence and glowing lanterns scattered around. A small table sat in the center, set with candles and neatly arranged plates. The air smelled faintly of jasmine, and the entire setup looked like something out of a romantic movie.
I took a step back instinctively, my chest tightening. "Jungkook," I said, my voice trembling. "What are you doing?"
He turned to me, his face softening when he saw me. "I wanted to do something for you. For us."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I can't do this."
I turned to leave, but before I could take another step, he crossed the distance between us and pulled me into a tight hug.
"Please don't go," he whispered, his arms locking around me like he was afraid I might disappear. "Please, Jin. Just try. That's all I'm asking."
I stiffened in his embrace, my mind screaming at me to pull away, to keep my walls up. But my heart... my heart was breaking.
"Let me go, Jungkook," I said, my voice cracking as tears welled up in my eyes.
"No," he said firmly, his voice shaking. "I won't. I can't. I'll do anything, Jin. I'll spend every day proving to you that I can change. Just... please don't give up on me. Please don't give up on us."
His words broke something inside me, and I began to cry, my tears soaking into his shirt as I tried to push him away.
"Stop it," I said weakly, my voice muffled. "Stop making this harder than it already is."
"I can't," he said, his own tears falling as he kissed my temple, my cheeks, my jawline. "I won't let you go without a fight. I love you, Jin. I love you so much it hurts."
I trembled in his arms, my heart warring with my mind. I wanted to believe him, to fall into the warmth of his love, but the doubts and fears still clung to me, refusing to let go.
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his hands cupping my tear-streaked face. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Just stay."
Before I could answer, he gently led me to the table, pulling out a chair for me. "Sit," he said softly, his voice full of quiet pleading.
I hesitated but eventually sat down, my hands trembling as I wiped at my eyes.
The table was set with all my favorite dishes—braised short ribs, steamed rice, and a delicate fruit tart for dessert. He had remembered everything, down to the smallest details.
Jungkook sat across from me, his own face streaked with tears, but his eyes were fixed on me, filled with an intensity that made my chest ache.
Neither of us touched the food at first. The tension between us was thick, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. But eventually, Jungkook broke the silence.
"I know I've hurt you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I let us drift apart, and I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But, Jin, I'm here now. And I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right if you let me."
I stared at him, my appetite completely gone but my resolve wavering. His words, his efforts, the way he was looking at me—it all chipped away at the walls I had built around myself.
"Jungkook," I said quietly, my voice trembling. "I don't know if I can..."
"You can," he interrupted, leaning forward. "We can. I know it won't be easy, and I know it'll take time. But I love you, Jin. And I'll keep fighting for you, for us, for as long as it takes."
Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I looked away, trying to steady my breathing.
For the first time in months, I felt something stir within me—a faint glimmer of hope, fragile and tentative but undeniably there.
We both picked at the food, neither of us eating much, but the gesture of sitting together, of sharing this moment, felt like something we desperately needed.
As the night went on, I found myself wavering, the cracks in my resolve growing wider. And as I looked across the table at Jungkook, his eyes still shining with love and determination, I wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was still something worth saving.
The phone rang just as I was finishing up a draft for a new project. When I saw Jungkook's name on the screen, I hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Hello?" I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.
"Jin," he said, his tone slightly sheepish. "I, uh, forgot my wallet at home. I don't have anything to eat for lunch today."
I frowned, the worry creeping in despite myself. "You didn't pack anything this morning?"
"No," he admitted, sighing. "I thought I'd grab something nearby, but... well, you know."
I glanced at the clock. It was nearly lunchtime, and I could hear the faint exhaustion in his voice. "You should've double-checked," I said, though my tone softened. "Do you want me to bring you something?"
"You don't have to," he said quickly, but there was a hopeful note in his voice that tugged at my heart.
"It's fine," I said, already getting up. "I'll bring you something. What do you feel like eating?"
"Anything you make is fine," he said, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice.
I worked quickly in the kitchen, throwing together a simple but hearty lunch: grilled chicken, rice, and some stir-fried vegetables. I packed it neatly into a lunchbox, along with a thermos of iced tea.
The drive to Jungkook's office felt strange, like stepping into a part of his world I hadn't visited in years. As I pulled into the parking lot and made my way to the lobby, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness.
Would he think this was me giving in? Or would he see it for what it was—a small gesture of care, nothing more?
I shook the thoughts away as I reached the lobby, clutching the lunchbox tightly. A receptionist greeted me with a polite smile, and I explained that I was waiting for Jungkook.
"He's on a call," she said kindly. "But I can let him know you're here."
I nodded, taking a seat and waiting.
When Jungkook finally appeared, my breath caught.
He looked tired—more tired than I had seen him in a long time. His tie was slightly askew, and there were faint shadows under his eyes. But when his gaze landed on me, his face lit up with a smile, bright despite the fatigue.
"Jin," he said, walking toward me with a mix of surprise and gratitude. "You didn't have to come all this way."
"You didn't leave me much of a choice," I said, holding out the lunchbox. "Here. Eat something before you pass out."
He chuckled softly, taking the lunchbox from my hands. "Thank you. Really. I owe you one."
I studied him as he spoke, my worry deepening. The smile on his face was genuine, but it couldn't hide the weariness in his eyes or the slight tension in his posture.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice quieter now.
He blinked, clearly surprised by the question. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You just..." I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. "You look like you've been thinking a lot lately. Is everything okay at work?"
He glanced away for a moment, scratching the back of his neck. "It's nothing," he said lightly. "Just the usual stress. Deadlines, meetings, that kind of thing."
I wasn't convinced. The way he avoided my gaze, the way his shoulders sagged just a little—it told me there was more to the story.
"Jungkook," I said softly, stepping closer. "You can tell me if something's wrong."
His smile faltered for a brief moment before he shook his head. "It's nothing you need to worry about. Really."
I wanted to press him, to ask again, but I stopped myself. He was clearly trying to hold it together, and I didn't want to push him too far.
"Alright," I said finally, though my worry lingered. "Just... make sure you eat. Don't let the food go to waste."
"I won't," he said, his smile returning. "Thank you, Jin. It really means a lot."
As I watched him walk back toward the elevators, lunchbox in hand, a new thought struck me.
I had been so focused on my own pain, my own doubts and insecurities, that I hadn't noticed how much he might be carrying.
Was he trying to protect me from his own struggles? Had I been so caught up in our problems that I missed the signs of his?
The realization left me shaken, and as I drove home, I couldn't stop replaying the image of his tired smile in my mind.
Maybe there was more to this story than I had allowed myself to see. And maybe, just maybe, I wasn't the only one fighting my own silent battles.
The front door clicked open just as I was flipping through a book on the couch, though I wasn't paying much attention to the pages. Jungkook's familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway, and moments later, he appeared in the living room, a faint smile lighting up his tired features.
"You're here," he said, his voice warm as he shrugged off his coat. "That's nice."
"Where else would I be?" I replied softly, my gaze flicking up from the book to meet his.
He grinned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, since you're here, how about we go out for dinner? My treat."
I frowned, already shaking my head. "Jungkook, you've had a long day. You look exhausted. We don't need to go anywhere—"
"No," he interrupted, his tone firm but light. "You made me lunch today, Jin. The least I can do is treat you to a nice dinner."
"That doesn't mean you have to drag yourself out when you're this tired," I said, my voice softening.
"I'm not dragging myself," he said quickly, though the weariness in his posture betrayed him. "I want to do this. Let me take you out. It's been ages since we've done something like this."
I opened my mouth to argue again, but the hopeful look in his eyes stopped me. It wasn't just about dinner—he was trying, once again, to bridge the gap between us.
"Fine," I said with a sigh, setting the book aside. "But don't blame me if you fall asleep at the table."
He chuckled softly, the sound light but genuine. "Deal."
The restaurant he chose wasn't far—a cozy little bistro we used to frequent in the early years of our marriage. It had been years since we'd been there, and stepping inside felt like opening the pages of a forgotten story.
We were seated at a quiet corner table, the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow on Jungkook's face.
As he scanned the menu, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, I found myself studying him. Really studying him.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I noticed the changes that had crept into his features over the years. The boyish charm that had once been so prominent was still there, but it was tempered now by the weight of time.
There were faint lines at the corners of his eyes, evidence of countless smiles and sleepless nights. A few strands of grey hair peeked out at his temples, blending subtly with the dark brown that I had always loved. His skin looked drier than it used to, especially around his hands, which were resting on the table.
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening.
This was the same man I had fallen in love with all those years ago, but time had left its mark on him, just as it had on me. It wasn't just his appearance—it was the way he carried himself, the quiet determination mixed with an underlying exhaustion.
"Jin?"
I blinked, realizing he was looking at me, his head tilted slightly in curiosity.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.
"Yeah," I said quickly, glancing down at the menu to hide the sudden ache in my chest. "Just deciding what to order."
He smiled faintly, though he didn't press further. "Let's get that mushroom risotto you like. We can share it."
"Sure," I murmured, nodding.
As the meal went on, Jungkook tried to keep the conversation light, asking about my day, my work, anything to fill the silence. But I couldn't stop glancing at him, the subtle signs of his fatigue and the toll of the years clearer than ever now that I was paying attention.
"Do you even get time to rest?" I blurted out suddenly, unable to keep the question in.
He looked at me, startled, before chuckling softly. "Not as much as I should, I guess."
"That's not good for you, Jungkook," I said, my tone sharper than I intended. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this."
"I'm fine, Jin," he said lightly, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I've handled worse."
I frowned, my worry deepening. "You're not indestructible, you know. You look... tired. Worn out."
His gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against mine. "I've been thinking a lot," he admitted quietly. "About work, about us... about everything. But I'm okay, I promise."
His touch sent a jolt through me, and for a moment, I felt the walls I had built around myself waver.
"Jungkook," I began, my voice trembling, but he shook his head.
"Let's just enjoy tonight, okay?" he said, his smile returning. "No stress. No worries. Just us."
I nodded reluctantly, though the knot in my chest refused to loosen.
As we drove home that night, I couldn't stop thinking about the way he looked—the signs of wear and tear that I had been too wrapped up in my own pain to notice before.
Had he always looked this tired? Had he been carrying burdens I didn't see?
For the first time in a long time, I found myself wondering if I had been wrong. If maybe, just maybe, I hadn't been the only one struggling to keep us afloat.
It had been days since that dinner, and I couldn't shake the image of Jungkook's tired smile, the grey hairs at his temples, and the lines etched into his face. The memory gnawed at me, filling me with questions I couldn't bring myself to ask directly.
I told myself it was simple curiosity. Nothing more. I wasn't going to his workplace because I cared; I was going because I wanted to understand.
That's what I convinced myself as I walked into the tall glass building where Jungkook worked.
The lobby was pristine, the kind of space designed to impress clients and intimidate visitors. I glanced around, noting the security desk and the rows of elevators beyond it. The receptionist glanced at me briefly before returning to her work.
I didn't have a visitor's pass, but it wasn't hard to figure out how to get past security. I waited near a group of employees heading to the elevators, casually slipping in behind them as they scanned their cards.
I knew Jungkook worked on the highest floor—he had mentioned it once years ago, back when he was excited about a promotion. I pressed the button for the top floor and kept my head down, my heart pounding as the elevator ascended.
When the doors opened, I stepped out into a sleek, modern office space filled with glass walls and polished furniture. Employees bustled about, their voices hushed as they moved between meetings and desks.
I scanned the space, looking for any sign of Jungkook. It wasn't long before I heard a familiar voice—followed by another, harsher voice that made me freeze.
The sound was coming from a corner office. The glass walls were partially frosted, but I could see enough to make out Jungkook standing in front of a desk, his shoulders hunched slightly. Across from him stood a man I didn't recognize—his senior, I assumed.
I moved closer, staying out of sight but within earshot.
"You call this a report?" the man barked, his voice dripping with disdain. "I've seen interns do better work than this."
Jungkook said nothing, his head bowed slightly.
The man slammed a stack of papers onto the desk, causing a few sheets to flutter to the ground. "Do you even care about your job anymore, Jeon? Or are you just here to waste my time?"
Jungkook mumbled something I couldn't hear, but it didn't seem to satisfy his senior.
"Speak up!" the man snapped. "If you're going to make excuses, at least have the decency to say them loud enough for me to hear."
I clenched my fists, anger bubbling in my chest.
But it got worse.
The man walked around the desk, standing directly in front of Jungkook. He grabbed Jungkook's tie, yanking it slightly as he leaned closer. "You think you're special because you're on this floor? Let me remind you, you're replaceable. And if you keep turning in garbage like this, I'll make sure you're out of here before the end of the month."
He released the tie with a sharp tug, causing Jungkook to stumble slightly. Then, as if to punctuate his point, the man slapped Jungkook lightly across the face—not hard, but enough to make my blood boil.
Jungkook didn't flinch. He stood there, his expression carefully neutral, though I could see the tension in his jaw and the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
The man wasn't finished. He kicked the edge of the table, causing the legs to screech against the floor. "Clean this up," he said coldly, gesturing to the scattered papers. "And don't bother coming back until you can do something right."
With that, he stormed out of the office, brushing past me without a second glance.
I stepped closer, my heart racing as I watched Jungkook slowly crouch down to pick up the papers. His movements were mechanical, his shoulders sagging under the weight of what had just happened.
He looked... used to it. Like this wasn't the first time he had been treated this way. But even so, I could see the faint tremble in his hands as he gathered the papers, the way his lips pressed together in a thin line to keep from breaking.
My chest tightened, a mix of anger and heartbreak swelling inside me.
How long has this been going on?
Why didn't he tell me?
I wanted to storm in, to confront the man who had humiliated him, but I knew it wasn't my place. Not anymore.
Instead, I stepped back, slipping away before Jungkook could see me.
As I rode the elevator down, my mind raced with questions and emotions I couldn't untangle.
Jungkook had always been strong, always carried himself with confidence and composure. But now, I realized how much he had been hiding—how much he had been enduring in silence.
And for the first time in a long time, I wondered if I had been wrong to assume he wasn't trying.
Because it was clear now: Jungkook wasn't just fighting for me.
He was fighting a battle I hadn't even known existed.
When I returned home, the house felt quieter than usual, though it always did when I was left with my thoughts. I tried to focus on anything else—my work, the pile of books gathering dust on the coffee table—but I couldn't stop replaying what I'd seen at Jungkook's office.
The harsh tone of his senior's voice, the way he pulled Jungkook's tie, the slap that wasn't hard but was humiliating, and the scattered papers Jungkook picked up without a word—all of it looped endlessly in my mind.
I had always wondered why Jungkook seemed so drained when he came home, why his smiles were so fleeting and his laughter seemed more like a memory than a habit. And now I knew.
He wasn't just tired from work; he was carrying the weight of being unappreciated, demeaned, and disrespected in a place that was supposed to define his success.
And I felt bad.
The guilt crept in slowly but relentlessly, a whisper in the back of my mind that grew louder with each passing moment.
But I wasn't doing this because I cared—not in the way I used to. That's what I told myself. This wasn't love, I reasoned. This was empathy, sympathy for someone who didn't deserve the burden he carried.
That's all this is, I thought.
Determined, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
I started in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make dinner. It had been weeks since I'd done this—cooking a full meal for Jungkook. Ever since I told him I wanted a divorce, I had stopped all the little things I used to do for him. The meals, the laundry, the quiet acts of care that had once been second nature to me.
But tonight, I made his favorite: soybean paste stew, grilled mackerel, and a side of pickled radishes. The smell of the cooking food filled the house, stirring memories I had tried to bury.
When the stew was simmering and the fish was cooling on the rack, I moved to the bathroom. I ran a hot bath, adding eucalyptus salts I knew he liked, letting the steam fill the space.
Then I went to his closet, where his clothes had been piling up. I washed, dried, and ironed his shirts and pants, folding them neatly and placing them in the closet.
As I finished, I paused, staring at the rows of freshly cleaned and folded clothes.
This was how it used to be.
The realization hit me like a cold wind. I stepped back from the closet, my chest tightening as the memories came rushing in.
This was exactly how it had started.
I had always taken care of Jungkook—cooking, cleaning, preparing his clothes, making sure everything at home was perfect. He would come home late, looking tired, barely saying a word, and I had hoped, foolishly, that he would notice all the effort I put in.
But he hadn't. Not in the way I wanted him to.
The quiet resentment had grown over time, twisting into something bitter and painful. I had started to feel invisible, like my efforts weren't enough, like I wasn't enough. And instead of telling him, I let it fester.
It wasn't just his job that had drained him; it was me, too. Expecting him to see things without saying them. Hoping he would appreciate me without asking for it.
And when he didn't, I had felt unloved.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my hands trembling.
Had we both been too busy carrying our own silent burdens to see each other's?
The smell of the stew wafted through the air, and I wiped at my face, shaking my head.
"No," I whispered to myself. "This is different. I'm just trying to help him."
But the lump in my throat told a different story.
Because deep down, I knew that tonight, as much as it was for him, it was also for me—a desperate attempt to feel like things weren't as broken as they seemed.
And as I heard the front door open, Jungkook calling out softly, "Jin? I'm home," I realized how terrified I was of finding out whether it was too late to fix it.
The smell of the stew lingered in the air as I descended the stairs, each step heavier than the last. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions—guilt, sorrow, love, doubt. When I reached the bottom, I stopped abruptly at the sight of Jungkook standing by the door.
He looked exhausted, his tie slightly loosened and his posture slumped, but his face softened into a tired smile when he saw me. In his hand was a bouquet of roses—red, vibrant, and impossibly delicate in his large, calloused grip.
"I thought I'd get these for you," he said, his voice tentative but warm. "You deserve flowers every day, Jin."
Something inside me broke.
The tears came before I could stop them, hot and uncontrollable, blurring my vision as I clutched the stair railing for support.
"Jin?" Jungkook's smile disappeared in an instant, replaced with panic as he hurried toward me. "Jin, what's wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me."
I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. My chest heaved as sobs wracked my body, the weight of everything crashing down on me at once.
The memory of him standing in that office, enduring humiliation after humiliation; the years of silent resentment and missed signals; the love I had buried under layers of hurt—all of it overwhelmed me.
"Jin," Jungkook said again, his voice desperate as he reached out, his hands hovering uncertainly near my shoulders. "Please, talk to me. You're scaring me."
I couldn't hold back anymore. I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his chest. His warmth was immediate, enveloping me like a shield against the storm raging inside me.
Jungkook froze for a moment, his arms hovering in the air before he slowly, tentatively hugged me back.
"I'm sorry," I choked out, my voice muffled against his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook. For everything."
His hands tightened on my back, his voice soft and shaky. "What are you sorry for, Jin? Please tell me. I don't understand."
I pulled back just enough to look at him, my tears streaming freely now. His eyes were wide, glassy with his own unshed tears, his face etched with worry.
"For everything," I said again, my words tumbling out in a rush. "For shutting you out, for not seeing how much you were hurting, for not fighting harder for us. I don't want to leave you, Jungkook. I don't want a divorce. I want to be with you. For the longest time—for forever."
His lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, he just stared at me, as though trying to process my words.
"And your job," I continued, my voice shaking as more tears spilled over. "You should quit. That place doesn't deserve you. You're worth so much more than the way they treat you. We'll figure it out together, okay? We'll—"
"Jin," Jungkook interrupted, his voice breaking as a tear slipped down his cheek.
"What?" I sniffled, my words jumbled by my sobs.
"You're nagging," he said, a faint laugh escaping him.
I blinked at him, confused, before his words sank in. He was laughing, his shoulders shaking slightly as his tears fell alongside mine.
"Don't laugh!" I cried, hitting his chest lightly, though my own lips quivered with the beginnings of a smile.
"I can't help it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're crying and yelling and trying to fix my entire life all at once. It's so... you."
I hit him again, though my heart was swelling at the same time.
Jungkook pulled me closer, resting his forehead against mine, his hands cupping my face. "Jin," he said softly, his voice trembling. "You have no idea how much this means to me. I was so scared of losing you. You're my everything, Jin. If I lost you, there wouldn't be anything left for me."
The sincerity in his voice broke me all over again, and I clung to him, my tears soaking into his shirt. "I'm not going anywhere," I whispered through my sobs. "I'm staying. With you."
He hugged me tightly, his own tears falling freely now. "I'll never let you go," he said fiercely, his voice muffled against my hair. "Never. I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy, Jin. I promise."
We stood there in the middle of the living room, holding each other as the weight of the past weeks, months, and years slowly began to lift.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like we were finally, truly on the same page. Together.
The house was warm and quiet after dinner, the faint glow of the fireplace casting soft shadows across the living room. Jungkook and I sat on the couch, his arm wrapped around my shoulders as I leaned into him. It was the first time in what felt like forever that we had been this close, this comfortable.
For a while, we stayed silent, the weight of the evening settling over us. But the question that had been nagging at me refused to stay buried.
"Jungkook," I said softly, breaking the quiet.
"Hmm?" he murmured, his fingers idly brushing against my arm.
"What happened at work?" I asked, tilting my head to look at him. "Why does your senior treat you so badly?"
His hand stilled, his body tensing slightly. "What are you talking about?" he asked cautiously.
I hesitated, but I knew there was no point in hiding it. "I went to your office," I admitted quietly. "A few days ago. I wanted to see how you were doing... and I saw it. I saw the way he treated you. The yelling, the humiliation..."
Jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes wide with surprise. "You went to my office?"
"I didn't mean to intrude," I said quickly. "I just—after seeing how tired you always are, I wanted to understand. I'm sorry if I crossed a line."
For a moment, he didn't say anything, his gaze dropping to the floor. Then he sighed, leaning back against the couch. "I didn't want you to know," he said finally, his voice low.
"Why not?" I asked, my heart aching at the defeated tone in his voice.
"Because it's not something I wanted you to worry about," he said, his hands clenching into fists. "It's... complicated."
"Tell me," I said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "I want to understand."
He hesitated, then nodded, exhaling shakily.
"It started when I got promoted," he began. "I was put in a position where I reported directly to the director. He... seemed to like me, I guess. He praised my work a lot, gave me projects he trusted me to handle. But the seniors didn't like it."
I frowned, my chest tightening. "Why not?"
"Because they thought I was getting special treatment," he said bitterly. "I was younger than them, newer to the company, and they didn't like that I was getting attention from the higher-ups. It started with small things—cold shoulders, ignoring my input in meetings. But then it got worse."
He swallowed hard, his gaze distant. "They started making me the scapegoat for everything. If a project went wrong, it was my fault. If something was late, it was because I didn't do my part—even if I had. And then there's him, the one you saw."
His voice trembled slightly as he continued. "He's the worst of them. He doesn't just criticize my work; he makes it personal. The tie-yanking, the slapping, the yelling—it's all part of his way of putting me 'in my place.' And the others follow his lead. It's like a pack mentality."
My chest tightened painfully as I listened. "Jungkook..."
"I tried to push through it," he said quietly. "I told myself it was just part of the job. But it got to the point where I was working overtime almost every day, trying to keep up with their expectations while avoiding their scorn. I started working for the sake of working, not because I cared about the job anymore."
I reached for his hand, gripping it tightly. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He looked at me, his eyes filled with guilt. "Because the salary is good," he admitted. "It's enough to provide for us, to make sure you never have to worry about money. I thought... I thought that was what mattered most."
"But it's not just about money, Jungkook," I said, my voice breaking. "You've been sacrificing your happiness, your mental health, for this. It's not worth it."
"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I didn't want to let you down. And... that's why I couldn't agree to adopting a child. I was scared, Jin. Scared that I wouldn't be enough. Scared that you'd end up managing everything on your own because I'd be too tired or too distracted."
Tears welled up in my eyes as his words sank in. "You thought you were protecting me," I whispered.
He nodded, his expression pained. "But I wasn't. I see that now. I was just making things worse."
I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around him tightly. "You don't have to do this alone, Jungkook. You don't have to carry all of this by yourself. We're a team. We always have been."
He buried his face in my shoulder, his tears dampening my shirt. "I'm so sorry, Jin," he whispered. "For everything."
"I'm sorry too," I said, my voice trembling. "For not seeing how much you were struggling. For not being there for you when you needed me most."
We stayed like that for a long time, holding onto each other as the weight of our unspoken struggles slowly began to lift.
And in that moment, I realized that while the road ahead wouldn't be easy, we had taken the first step toward rebuilding what we had lost.
Weeks passed, and true to his word, Jungkook quit his job. It wasn't easy—he hesitated at first, worried about the transition, but together, we managed. His new job offer came quickly, but it was located far from our current neighborhood. The commute would have been unbearable, so we made the decision to rent a new apartment closer to his workplace.
Packing up the house was an emotional task, and as I moved from room to room, memories flooded me, bittersweet and vivid.
In the kitchen, I paused by the counter, my fingers grazing the surface where we'd shared countless meals. I could almost hear Jungkook's laughter from the early days, see the messy dinners we'd made together, the burned pancakes he insisted on flipping himself.
In the living room, I stood where the couch used to be, remembering the nights we'd spent curled up watching movies, my head on his shoulder, his hand lazily brushing through my hair. I thought of the arguments too—the harsh words we'd exchanged in this very space, the silences that had stretched for days.
Our bedroom was the hardest. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the now-empty closet. This was where we had shared our most intimate moments, both joyful and painful. The thought of leaving it behind felt like closing a chapter I wasn't sure I was ready to end.
The house was quiet as I carried the last box to the car. Jungkook was already loading the rest of our belongings, his usual energy subdued by the weight of leaving. I lingered by the front door, my chest tightening as I turned to look at the place we had called home for the past five years.
"I'll be back in a bit," I said, walking toward the neighbor's house.
Jungkook paused, giving me a questioning look but nodding.
Han So Hee opened the door, her expression softening when she saw me. "Seokjin," she greeted warmly. "I heard you two were moving. I was hoping I'd get a chance to say goodbye."
I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I just wanted to thank you—for everything. And to... clear the air."
She gestured for me to step inside, and we sat in her cozy living room. "I know things were tense at first," she said, her tone gentle. "But I hope you know I never intended to come between you and Jungkook."
I took a deep breath, the words coming easier than I expected. "I know that now. But I need to ask—about you and Jungkook. About what you two were."
So Hee nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful. "Jungkook and I were high school sweethearts," she said, her voice calm. "We were young, in love, and naive. But I got a scholarship abroad, and we broke up before I left. It wasn't bitter or dramatic; it was just life pulling us in different directions."
I looked down, fidgeting with my hands. "And after that?"
"I moved on, and so did he," she said with a small smile. "A few years later, I received a letter from him. He told me he had met someone—the love of his life." She looked at me pointedly. "You."
I blinked, startled. "Me?"
She nodded. "He told me how meeting you changed everything. How he knew, without a doubt, that you were the one he wanted to spend his life with. He even said he was going to marry you one day."
Her words left me speechless, my chest tightening as a wave of emotions crashed over me.
"I don't know if you ever saw that letter," she continued, "but the way he wrote about you... it was beautiful. He was so certain, so full of love. And now, seeing you two together, I know he was right."
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away. "Thank you for telling me," I whispered. "It means more than you know."
So Hee smiled warmly. "Take care of him, Seokjin. And let him take care of you too."
I nodded, standing and giving her a brief but heartfelt hug. "Goodbye, So Hee."
"Goodbye, Seokjin."
When I returned to the car, Jungkook was waiting, his expression curious but patient. "What did she say?" he asked as I climbed into the passenger seat.
"Nothing important," I said softly, though the warmth in my chest betrayed me.
As we drove away from the house, I glanced back one last time, the memories of the past five years etched into every brick and corner.
Jungkook reached over, taking my hand in his, his thumb brushing gently against my skin. "Are you ready?" he asked.
I turned to him, my heart swelling with love and a renewed sense of purpose. "I'm ready."
And as we headed toward our new beginning, I realized that leaving the house wasn't the end. It was just the start of a new chapter—one where we would rebuild, together.
✨
The college campus buzzed with the energy of orientation day, the courtyard filled with the sounds of chatter, laughter, and the rustle of flyers being handed out. Students wandered from booth to booth, clutching stacks of leaflets as they navigated the maze of clubs and organizations trying to recruit new members.
Among the crowd was Jungkook, a nervous but excited freshman, his backpack slung over one shoulder. His wide eyes took in everything, from the colorful banners to the enthusiastic calls of club representatives trying to lure him to their tables.
But then he saw him.
Seokjin stood near the edge of the courtyard, holding a neat stack of leaflets for the writing club. He was surrounded by a long line of students, most of whom didn't look like they belonged anywhere near a creative writing group. Some were shy, others were boldly flirting, and a few just stood there gawking.
And Jungkook immediately understood why.
Seokjin was breathtaking.
Even from a distance, he stood out like a beacon, his sharp yet delicate features catching the sunlight in a way that made him look almost ethereal. His soft, smooth skin seemed to glow, and his plump lips curved into a polite smile as he handed out leaflets, answering questions with a patient grace.
But it was his eyes that struck Jungkook the most—large, expressive doe eyes that seemed to sparkle with warmth and intelligence.
Jungkook stopped in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat.
"Who is that?" he muttered to himself, unable to tear his gaze away.
"He's Kim Seokjin," a voice next to him supplied. Jungkook turned to see a fellow freshman grinning at him knowingly. "Third-year. The writing club president. And, well..." The student gestured to the crowd gathered around Seokjin. "You can see why everyone's flocking to him."
Jungkook's face flushed, and he quickly ducked his head, pretending not to care. But his feet betrayed him, carrying him toward the line that had formed near Seokjin.
The closer he got, the more his nerves kicked in.
Jungkook wasn't even interested in joining a writing club. He barely read novels, let alone wrote anything. But his curiosity—no, his fascination—with the man in front of him overrode any logic.
When it was finally his turn, Jungkook's breath hitched.
Up close, Seokjin was even more stunning. His hair fell softly around his face, framing his flawless skin. His smile, gentle but professional, was enough to make Jungkook's heart race.
"Welcome to the writing club," Seokjin said warmly, holding out a leaflet. His voice was smooth, rich, and filled with a natural charm that left Jungkook utterly speechless.
Jungkook stared, completely starstruck.
"Are you interested in writing?" Seokjin asked, tilting his head slightly, his doe eyes studying Jungkook with curiosity.
"I—uh—yes," Jungkook stammered, his voice cracking slightly.
Seokjin chuckled softly, his smile widening. "That's great. We meet every Thursday after classes. You're welcome to drop by and see if it's a good fit for you."
Jungkook nodded dumbly, taking the leaflet from Seokjin's outstretched hand. His fingers brushed against Seokjin's briefly, and he felt a jolt, as though electricity had shot through him.
"Thanks," Jungkook managed to mumble, stepping aside to let the next person in line take his place.
But even as he moved away, he couldn't stop looking back at Seokjin, who was now engaged in conversation with another student.
Jungkook's mind raced, his heart pounding in his chest.
I don't know anything about writing, he thought. But if it means being around him... maybe I'll learn.
And just like that, Jungkook's college life began—with a crush so intense, it would shape the years to come.
A year had passed since Jungkook's first meeting with Seokjin, and things on campus had changed dramatically.
Jungkook was no longer the shy, wide-eyed freshman who stumbled his way through orientation. He had grown into one of the most popular juniors on campus, known for his striking looks, athletic prowess, and undeniable charm. Girls and boys alike gravitated toward him, vying for his attention with giggles, notes, and daring confessions.
But Jungkook only had eyes for one person.
Seokjin.
It had started as a quiet crush, something Jungkook didn't fully understand at first. But the more time he spent around Seokjin in the writing club, the more certain he became.
Seokjin wasn't just beautiful—he was witty, intelligent, and compassionate. He had a way of carrying himself that commanded attention without ever demanding it, and Jungkook found himself completely captivated.
So Jungkook began to flirt.
It started small—lingering glances, casual compliments, a playful comment here and there. But when Seokjin brushed off his advances with a raised eyebrow or a dismissive smile, Jungkook took it as a challenge.
"You're awfully close today," Seokjin remarked one Thursday afternoon, as Jungkook leaned over his shoulder to read something he was writing.
Jungkook grinned, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Seokjin's pen glide across the page. "I just want to see how the greatest writer in this club works his magic."
Seokjin rolled his eyes, though a faint blush crept up his neck. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, Jeon Jungkook."
"Are you sure about that?" Jungkook countered, his voice low and teasing. "Because I think I've seen you smile at least twice today."
Seokjin's lips twitched, but he refused to give in. "You're insufferable."
"And yet, you still let me hang around," Jungkook shot back, his grin widening.
Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, Seokjin couldn't deny the way Jungkook made his heart race. It wasn't just his looks—though Jungkook was undeniably handsome, with his sharp jawline, expressive eyes, and endearing smile. It was the way he treated Seokjin, the way he always made him feel like the most important person in the room.
But that only made it harder for Seokjin to accept his feelings.
Jungkook had become the campus heartthrob, surrounded by admirers who seemed to hang on his every word. Seokjin didn't want to be just another name on that list, another person swept up in Jungkook's charm.
One evening, as they were leaving the club meeting, Jungkook caught up to Seokjin. "Walk with me?" he asked, falling into step beside him.
Seokjin sighed but didn't protest. "Don't you have better things to do?"
"Better than spending time with you?" Jungkook asked, feigning shock. "Impossible."
Seokjin shook his head, though he couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "You're relentless, you know that?"
"Only for you," Jungkook replied, his tone soft but sincere.
The words caught Seokjin off guard, and he glanced at Jungkook, his heart skipping a beat at the intensity in the younger man's gaze.
"Jungkook," he began, his voice quieter now. "You don't have to do this."
"Do what?" Jungkook asked, stopping in his tracks and turning to face him.
"This," Seokjin said, gesturing between them. "Flirting with me. Chasing me. You're... you're popular. You could have anyone you wanted."
Jungkook frowned, his playful demeanor fading. "Is that what you think?"
"It's the truth," Seokjin said, crossing his arms.
Jungkook took a step closer, his voice dropping. "You're wrong, hyung. I don't want anyone else. I only want you."
Seokjin's breath hitched, his resolve wavering under Jungkook's unwavering gaze. "Why?"
Jungkook smiled, but it wasn't his usual teasing grin. It was soft, almost shy. "Because you're you," he said simply. "You're the most incredible person I've ever met. And I'm not going to stop until you believe that."
Seokjin stared at him, his heart pounding in his chest. For a moment, he didn't know what to say.
Jungkook reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from Seokjin's face. "I'm serious, hyung," he said quietly. "I'll wait as long as it takes. Just don't push me away."
Seokjin swallowed hard, his walls beginning to crack. But instead of answering, he turned and continued walking, his mind racing with conflicting emotions.
Behind him, Jungkook watched with a knowing smile, his determination unwavering.
Because no matter how long it took, he was going to win Seokjin's heart.
Jungkook did exactly what he said he would.
It started in college, with small gestures and relentless determination. Seokjin, despite his best efforts to resist, eventually found himself drawn to Jungkook's sincerity. Jungkook wasn't just chasing him for the thrill—he cared deeply, and he showed it in every little thing he did.
When Seokjin finally let his guard down, when he finally admitted to himself that Jungkook had not just flirted his way into his life but also into his heart, everything changed.
They began dating in Seokjin's final year of college. Jungkook would wait outside Seokjin's classes with a bag of snacks and an umbrella if it was raining, flashing his boyish grin that never failed to make Seokjin's heart skip a beat.
"Why are you like this?" Seokjin had once asked, pretending to be annoyed but failing to hide his smile.
"Because I love you," Jungkook replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Seokjin graduated first and entered the workforce, landing a job at a company that seemed promising. But reality was far from what he imagined. The long hours, the endless deadlines, the suffocating routine—it drained him. He would come home exhausted, his spark dimmed, his passion for writing buried under the weight of corporate monotony.
Jungkook noticed. He always noticed.
It fueled his determination.
When Jungkook graduated, he threw himself into finding the best job he could, one that offered not just a paycheck but stability and security for both of them. He worked hard, aced interviews, and climbed the ranks quickly, proving himself to be as capable as he was ambitious.
And then, when the timing was right, he proposed.
Their wedding was beautiful, intimate, and filled with the people who mattered most. The venue was a small but elegant hall, decorated with soft lights and white roses, the air buzzing with warmth and joy.
Seokjin looked stunning in his tuxedo, his hair neatly styled, his smile radiant as he walked down the aisle. Jungkook stood at the altar, his eyes fixed on Seokjin with an intensity that made everyone in the room feel like they were intruding on something deeply personal.
"I promise to love you, support you, and protect you," Jungkook said, his voice steady but thick with emotion as he slid the ring onto Seokjin's finger. "You're my heart, my home, and my everything. And I will never let you forget how much you mean to me."
Tears welled in Seokjin's eyes as he repeated his vows, his voice trembling but full of love. "You've given me so much, Jungkook. Your love, your patience, your determination—I'm so lucky to have you. And I promise to love you just as fiercely, every day for the rest of our lives."
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause when they kissed, sealing their vows with a love that was unmistakable.
Later, during the reception, Yoongi—Seokjin's best friend and self-proclaimed "perpetual realist"—stood to give a speech.
"I've known Seokjin for years," Yoongi began, his usual stoic expression softening as he glanced at Seokjin. "He's stubborn, overly idealistic, and a perfectionist to the core. But he's also kind, loyal, and has a heart too big for his own good."
Seokjin rolled his eyes but smiled, his cheeks pink from the compliments.
"And then came Jungkook," Yoongi continued, turning to the groom. "This annoying, persistent junior who somehow managed to break through Seokjin's walls and make him happy in a way none of us had ever seen before."
Yoongi's voice cracked slightly, and he paused, clearing his throat. "I'm not the emotional type, but seeing you two together... it's enough to make even me cry."
The room laughed softly, but then Yoongi added, with a mischievous grin, "But if Jungkook screws this up, Seokjin, you know where to find me. Divorce lawyer at your service."
The room erupted into laughter, Seokjin shaking his head while Jungkook raised a mock toast to Yoongi, his grin wide and unbothered.
As the night wound down and the guests began to leave, Jungkook pulled Seokjin aside, taking his hands in his.
"Jin," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You don't have to go back to that job anymore. Write. Stay home, do what you love. I'll take care of everything else."
Seokjin's breath caught, his heart swelling with emotion. "Jungkook, I can't—"
"You can," Jungkook interrupted gently. "You deserve to be happy. You've always supported me, even when I didn't deserve it. Let me do the same for you."
Tears welled in Seokjin's eyes as he nodded, unable to find the words to express what he felt. Instead, he leaned in, resting his forehead against Jungkook's.
"I love you," Seokjin whispered.
"I love you too," Jungkook replied, his voice steady and sure. "Forever."
And as they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Seokjin realized something he had always known deep down.
Jungkook hadn't just won his heart—he had built a life with him, one filled with love, respect, and endless possibilities.
And for the first time in a long time, Seokjin felt truly free, knowing he had someone who would always be by his side, through every chapter of their story.
✨
We started as whispers, as fleeting glances,
A spark igniting where fate took its chances.
Your persistence was fire, relentless and true,
While my walls stood high, built strong to subdue.
But you broke through, with laughter and light,
Turned my doubts to dreams, made wrong feel right.
The years rolled by, both tender and tough,
But through every storm, your love was enough.
I see your tired hands, your weary smile,
The strength you carried every mile.
I see the weight you bore for me,
And the battles you fought silently.
But now, my love, we share the load,
Two hearts as one on this winding road.
No longer alone in this world so vast,
Together we rewrite the shadows of our past.
For you, I'll write under endless skies,
And you'll hold me steady as the years fly by.
Our vows aren't mere words, they're promises deep,
To treasure, to nurture, to forever keep.
No matter the trials, the paths we traverse,
Our love will remain, through blessing or curse.
And when all is said, when our story is through,
I'll still choose you—and you'll still choose me too.
Forever Ours.