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jiminrings · 2 years

Text

four seven eight

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 12k

glimpse: you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you.

alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

[ part one + intermission + part two + intermission 02 + finale ]

[ major angst (pls take a break when necessary!!), no cheating happens here btw, some rlly cute moments i swear, jk’s a cold lover, emotional constipation + breakdowns, allusions to anxiety + anxiety attacks, self-deprecation n loathing, miscommunication, based on the moral dilemma of whether or not it’s okay to be friends with ur ex, eventual redemption in the next parts :) ]

notes: it’s finally out and i can’t wait for you to read!! this piece is my baby, the rightful successor to heartburn <3 i’m aware that the last time i wrote a mini-series it was rlly heavy, but please trust me when i say that this would be lighter <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :) | series masterlist

It takes little effort to love Jungkook.

Loving him specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Loving Jungkook isn’t hard when he serves as the solace that remains in your heart and not in your pocket. He manifests into the comfort you look for in all seasons, and into the love you look for at all times.

Loving him isn’t hard when he proves time and time again that he’s neither fussy nor high-maintenance. He isn’t simple but loving him is, the motions of your commitment remaining uncomplicated.

Jungkook doesn’t text you every hour of the day while you’re out working, but he will wake up to see you get picked up by your driver, wait for you to text him that you’ve reached your filming location, and knock himself back to sleep right then.

It’s easy love — one that couldn’t be grasped by everyone, but one that’s still just as precious to the both of you.

Your husband’s neither as affectionate or as vocal as you are. He’s a man of few words, really, and you wouldn’t lie and say that Jungkook’s perpetual state of coldness didn’t bother you at first. He just seemed so unattainable, one that couldn’t fit with your otherwise animated personality.

He was unattainable in a way that even if you’ve amassed a huge crush on him, you tried to be as unbearable that you could be by the second date he asked you out to; tried to worm your way into each available space beside him and treated his bicep as your handbag, but no matter how much you clinged to him — Jungkook never budged you away.

He felt too unattainable that when he asked you for a third date, you felt tempted to craft an elaborate lie to ward him off. The massive crush you had on him didn’t even decrease in size no matter how much you kept bringing down the opportunity of the two of you together, only increasing in depth.

You used to think that Jungkook needed to be with someone more well-suited for his pace; one that wouldn’t hold his hand like their life depended on it, or one that wouldn’t say “I love you!” atleast seven times before ending the call, even if he only went on an errand five minutes away from your place.

Perhaps in an honest sense, loving you isn’t so simple but Jungkook makes it appear like so, one date at a time.

He broke down the door to a portalet when you accidentally trapped yourself in it at the fourth date, all because you hurriedly ran from what you thought was a snake on the ground in the hot air balloon festival you dragged him to. It obviously wasn’t a snake (it was a stocking moving from the wind), but Jungkook still pretended that it was, intentionally muttering about your sightings of a snake amongst event-goers. Not only did he raise safety issues and rattle event organizers, but he also got to ease your embarrassment, perching his sunglasses on your nosebridge so you wouldn’t dwell on your incident too harshly.

He initiated to hold your hand under the table when he introduced you to his parents. You were uncharacteristically formal and stiff that he had to sit you down by the closed toilet seat in the bathroom and make you drink Pocari Sweat from a wine glass because you were just too parched and pale when his mother kept glancing at you. You thought it would be the end of your relationship with her son because she probably thinks that you’re not good enough for him, but really, she just found you gorgeous and wanted to hug you.

He trembled by the knees when you walked the aisle and even if he attempted to steel his eyes, it was no use because he was hiccuping from tears before you reached halfway down the path. It was an intimate wedding attended only by the closest family and friends, completely discreet to the media because it was just a regular Saturday break from your schedules as far as they knew.

Jungkook’s cold but he isn’t relentless.

He doesn’t coo and awe at every single thing you utter. You can go on and on about the menu at a critically-acclaimed, fully-booked-for-the-next-six-months restaurant without a single peep from him, but you will get the same meal you’ve been raving about without question.

He doesn’t squeal when you shower him with affection. He barely bats an eye even when you’re giving him the tightest embrace in front of his friends, but that doesn’t mean he’d complain about it. He still puts his hand at the center of your back, patting and rubbing circles until you let go of him.

He doesn’t gasp at every dramatic line in your script that you practice with him. He says the opposing role’s lines, observes your pacing and critiques your emotions, and doesn’t break from character one bit even when you do. He only smiles when you laugh but he feels like crying when you do, only breaking his character for the times he’d wipe your tears with his thumb — belatedly realizing that your acting was that good for him to forget in the first place.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much you know. Love isn’t always a matter of ease anyway and it’s always stuck to you, but perhaps coming home to Jungkook everyday reminds you that it doesn’t have to be difficult either.

Jungkook makes love the simplest thing.

( ♡ )

It’s never been your intention to come home late.

These days, you don’t promise a specific time to Jungkook and instead encourage him to sleep without you. You’re tired from work but you’re sure that it’s somehow tiring for him to wait for you to come home, day after day for months at a time.

Granted that he doesn’t wait for you to come home every single night (he sends you a smiley face text when he lets himself to succumb to sleep alone), it’s still the thought that makes you want to leave work a little earlier; makes you a little more rested despite being worn down to the bone.

It’s nice to have someone wait for you to come home. Nice enough to think that your walls are warm despite not spending enough time surrounded by them. Nice enough to think that there’s no echo in your home when you speak into it, even if the furniture is only good for two people.

Jungkook holds down the fort for both of you and he doesn’t mind.

“Baby?”

Your fatigued eyes try to adjust to your husband’s newfound obsession with ambient lights, because in his words, the use of overhead lighting is one of the top brainwash phenomenons in society. Maybe he didn’t really say that word for word, but one look at his eyes when he urged you to come with him to go ambient light-shopping was more than enough to know his sentiments.

It’s a mixture of soft pink and purple in the living room — homey despite the initial shock your eyes go through from having been exposed to studio lights all day.

Jungkook’s groggy in the nest that he’s made on the couch, eyes starting to blink open because in a haste but his head can’t just seem to lift from the dense pillow that keeps calling his nape. Even Miso, your cat, is curled up and fast asleep on the crook of his neck. His position seems lived-in already, the clingy part of you already knowing that if you just try to squeeze in now, the imprint of your husband would still be warm.

“Did you wait for me?” you mumble in a chuckle even if he could already pick up that it’s devoid of the playful tone, completely toeing off your shoes in the entryway so you could pad through the cold floor to get to him quicker. “Let’s go to bed.”

You weren’t planning on carrying him to the second floor but you make it seem like that anyway, mustering all your remaining energy to playfully crouch as if you were gonna piggyback him.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Jungkook pertains to his service of waiting what, a mere four hours overdue than your usual 7 PM dismissal. His eyes land on your form and it reminds him why he held out (or atleast attempted to) for a particular reason. “Wait.”

Jungkook stands up from the couch completely and walks to the kitchen, making you fall back immediately to cushions because your knees were close to giving out. Miso’s grumpy as per usual from being woken up from her nap, but her tail brushes your arm before scurrying to sleep somewhere else. True to your assumptions, your husband’s place on the couch remains warm and it audibly makes you sigh — warm enough to placate you.

He spares a look at you because you’re grunting a little too differently, belatedly learning that you’re lying in the same spot that he did, an indication that you really, really needed to sleep. Jungkook grabs what he’s been saving for you from the freezer, walking a little more determinedly before you doze off completely.

“Wake up for a sec,” he jostles you by the shoulder, effectively making you peel your eyes open but this time with a tiny hint of irritation between your brows. He holds the container behind his back and shakes it before bringing it to your view, face still unnerved but eagerly waiting for your reaction.

You don’t know exactly what you’re looking at besides the given that Jungkook’s holding a clear container, and you can’t exactly tell shit either because atleast with overhead lights, you’d know the color of what’s in there in the first place.

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat from the lack of a reaction because he swears that by now you should be squealing and kissing him on the cheek. His breath hitches but he tries to steel his pride, opening the container for you to see better. It takes one, two seconds for you to register the familiar smell because you still can’t clearly see what it is, but judging by the awed gasp from you, he already knows he’s won.

Jungkook saved you the ends of the ice cream cones that’s filled with chocolate, the accumulation of it starting just this morning. He simply wanted a snack and although there isn’t a law that prohibited from eating your favorite snacks without you, he still felt guilty. He was cautious enough to only bite until the demarcation of the chocolate, putting it into a container upright by some crumpled tissue used as a stand, and stashing it in the freezer before it melts.

Then it hits him that one ice cream cone wouldn’t do, and he knows for a fact that you don’t even care much for the ice cream itself, so he gets to eat up another one.

“That’s the best part! Why didn’t you eat it?” you exclaim and although your words tell him that he should’ve eaten them, your tone suggests otherwise because you’re entirely giddy about the situation.

“Saved it up for you.”

His heart leaps at your mood change, the trivial discomfort in his mind awhile ago from not eating the chocolate part of the cone dissipating instantly. You look so pretty grinning up at him, coyly looking at the container.

“There’s two,” you point out, taking one cone for yourself while waiting for your husband to pick up your cue.

“You don’t want two?” he asks, humming when you shake your head. “Good. I wanted one too.”

Jungkook plops to your side the moment you snort, turning his head to look at you already biting to the cone bit by bit because you just didn’t want to swallow it whole, wanting to indulge in the cold treat after a long day.

“I love you,” you say in between chews, leaning your head on his warm, broad shoulder. “You’re the best.”

There’s a gentle smile that grazes your husband’s lips. He doesn’t say the words back but he brings your hand that’s clutching the cone back to your lips, eyes flickering towards you briefly.

“Shh. The chocolate’s gonna melt.” In other words, I love you too.

“I love you. I mean it,” you reiterate, swallowing the last of your snack before briefly cuddling to his side, kissing the dimple on his cheek that’s prominent as he silently chews.

Jungkook couldn’t resist as he only bites into half of his cone; you’ve already finished yours. He takes one good look at you before parting your lips with his thumb, shoving the other half of his cone to which you giggle happily at. In other words, I mean it too.

“Love you too,” he says out-loud while you chew, standing briefly to get you a glass of water because after all, the chocolate was sweet and he’d hate for your throat to get itchy.

Jungkook waits for you to finish before heading up the stairs together, letting you hold onto his bicep while you take step after step with little conversations in between — towards the bed that he had already made hours in advance, in anticipation of you.

( ♡ )

Jungkook loves in increments.

He doesn’t love all at once; never has been the type to act irrationally in the name of his impulses. He’s sensible but that doesn’t mean every decision he’s ever made is the smartest move he could’ve done in that situation. He was quiet but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sensitive.

He didn’t love you at first glance because looking back, you were perhaps too bright for him. He didn’t love the way you laughed when he first heard it because it seemed too loud for him. Honestly, Jungkook didn’t even love the way you looked at him because the way you did it, you made it seem like you’ve known him forever and would continue to for the next lifetime.

He used to clench his jaw when you held onto him by the elbow and grind his teeth when you held his hand. He used to lean his head away to look at anyone but you when you buried your face to his neck. He used to think that he hated you and the change you brought because as shitty as it may sound, you are not the person he loved first.

It was wrong, beyond wrong, for Jungkook to compare you to his ex in his mind when the two of you were just starting out, no official label to your relationship yet. It wasn’t right of him but it was realistic — if you knew someone for almost half of your life and were in a relationship with them for three years and in love for longer than that, only for you to break up later on, wouldn’t you be accustomed to them?

Jungkook already moved on from his ex but it didn’t happen overnight. He no longer harbored love for her and accepted that you’re different from her. And as much as it scared him initially, he’s grown into your love completely.

The two of you are different and there’s no changing it. There’s no drastic changes the two of you request from each other. You and Jungkook aren’t two peas in a pod but rather, you’re two different flowers in the same garden. You neither have the same seeds nor the same bloom but you’re bred by the same soil, nurtured by the same sun, and comforted by the same moon.

You and Jungkook aren’t parallel but you’re perpendicular; intersecting at some point even in the furthest distance.

At some times, you seem to mirror Jungkook and it haunts him. He’s unused to you only standing for a few words and lacking the initiative to start affection, anything, that was the pinnacle of your dynamic.

You never required him to change; it’s just that maybe, just maybe he wants to do it himself. He wants to be more like you, preferring it a hundred times over than you wanting to be more like him. Somewhere along the way, maybe you’ve grown used to him rarely asking about your day (because you already narrate it before he could) that you don’t tell him about it lately.

It’s probably just because you’re tired, noticing that you were more likely to shut off if you’re at your wit’s limit considering your hectic schedule. He can’t read your mind or know what you’re thinking about at just one glance like how you could do with him, but Jungkook still tries his best.

There just seems to be something bothering you these days and as much as he’d like to talk to you about it, you shut off as soon as you come home. You take a shower, eat the dinner he prepared if you hadn’t already on set, and go to bed.

Lately, Jungkook misses the way you’d sit on his lap and tell him about your day, especially missing how your voice would pick up at the parts of it that you liked most. He misses your insistent pleading of taking his shirt off right at that moment because you wanted to wear that particular one in that exact time.

You’re unavailable to talk to him (which is unlike you) so he does the next big thing — talk to you in your sleep.

“You have blisters again.”

He frowns as he looks at your feet, telling you about his day as he tucks you in that he got to take a closer look. He winces at the sight, figuring that it must hurt from wearing heels since according to you in verbatim, your character’s main personality trait just has to be wearing heels that are a size too small for her.

“Do they hurt? I bet they do,” he answers his own query, turning on the actual overhead lights this time because in all honesty, he can’t see much shit with the ambient lighting he’s been trying so hard to love these past few weeks.

“I keep telling you that my friend’s a dermatologist. You could get Botox on your feet so you wouldn’t feel a thing,” he reminds you and for a moment did he expect that you’d actually answer, talking to you so fluidly that he forgot you’re actually asleep.

Jungkook makes quick work of cleaning your ankles up, rubbing some ointment on it before putting on the softest pair of socks fathomable in this world on your feet.

You’re still fast asleep and he’s thankful that he was nimble enough to not wake you up, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before he turns off the lights.

“Night night. I love you.”

( ♡ )

This project would be the biggest break of your career.

Technically, your debut was two years ago, the first drama you worked on being fortunately successful enough that it kept the ball rolling and it hasn’t stopped since. You’re well-known enough to have pictures taken of you and your autograph sought-for, but what you thought was already famous doesn’t even come close to this.

This being the most-anticipated drama of the year — with you as the main lead starring alongside Min Yoongi, the most talented and in-demand actor the industry has ever seen.

It’s a powerhouse production all-over; Kim Namjoon as the acclaimed screenwriter whose latest work pushed him to bag the coveted Lifetime Achievement Award, Kim Taehyung as the executive producer who’s notorious for only picking one project per year (and all his past five projects are famous and praised worldwide), and Jung Hoseok as the celebrated director credited for changing the entertainment completely because of his unique direction.

The preliminary audition tape you sent in was just sent without any expectations that you’ll be picked, knowing that you’d compete with hundreds upon hundreds as soon as Jimin, your manager, relayed the details.

The tiny piece of the script sent to you was already telling that both the production and forthcoming impact of it are bigger than anyone could ever imagine. Jimin pressed record, the emotions flowed right through you, and the tape was sent in without any reviewing nor correcting whatsoever.

You immediately got the callback the next day, was very nicely asked (more-on demanded) if you could come to the studio within the next hour and a half, did a screen test on the spot with Min Yoongi who you then learned was picked as the main lead all this time (and even before the script was finished) — and got it.

What seemed to be extreme luck for you at first turned out to be fate because you could distinctly remember how you couldn’t pick up your jaw from the floor when the big three; Namjoon, Taehyung, and Hoseok, revealed that they didn’t even pick anyone else but you. To be exact, five hundred seventy-one people auditioned for the female lead and a grand total of one got the callback.

“This script is as good as trashed if it isn’t you giving life to it,” Namjoon simply told you with a shrug, getting resounding approval from the rest of the group.

“To be honest, I don’t see myself clicking with anyone else. They get me if they get you,” Yoongi said his truth as confidently as he could, discreetly crossing his fingers under the table to not jinx anything.

“Right! I’ve literally never seen chemistry this good and acting this real,” Hoseok added his input, mouth curling in a chuckle to see you floored from them bouncing off their reassurances for you.

“Trust me, I’ve seen tons of scripts from this month alone. If I had to pick one project to put all my money in, it’d be this,” Taehyung sealed with a grin, his excited knocking on the table making you jolt in place.

This project’s so big that it’ll practically serve as your second debut.

Technically, In Terms of Eternity hasn’t even been released yet but it’s already famous from the get-go. The unofficial announcement of the drama release from a news agency was enough to create more hype than any other drama that’s been released the past year.

Only the teaser has been released and even with that alone, the trajectory of your career skyrocketed overnight. Your followers tripled, brands were scrambling to give the highest bid to get the commercial feature in the episodes that haven’t been filmed yet, and even previous works featuring you (no matter how small your role is, e.g. you rolling your eyes in the background for approximately two seconds) were resurfacing.

This is the biggest thing to ever happen to your career and you need Jungkook with you.

Two days from now would be the drama’s press conference, set to be attended by a record amount of media staff that a show’s ever clocked in. Only six of the sixteen episodes have been shot in advance with the rest scheduled to film as the series airs, and with that said, the pressure’s completely off the charts.

Your outfit’s already decided on, your makeup’s already been put on a test run, and you and Yoongi have already been briefed for the possible questions. Everything’s almost set to go —

All you need is Jungkook there with you.

“It’s on Saturday,” you try to add casually as if you hadn’t checked the calendar three times before, gauging your husband’s reaction to see if he was onboard. “You’re not doing anything on Saturday… right?”

Jungkook stares back at you with his mouth parted open, eyes a little dry from unblinking while he weighs the logistics of it all.

It’s reasonable for you to want him there. He takes a certain pride knowing that you explicitly told him that you’d feel more relaxed if he’s there with you. You want him there and need him there more than ever.

Your marriage isn’t a secret. It just happened that it was never brought up.

Your agency knows, of course. In fact, they signed you even before you got engaged and even Jimin was invited to the wedding. You’re given the free will to announce your civil status to the public and have the company draw up an announcement for you. You aren’t obliged to reveal your relationship and most of the time, retaining it undisclosed gives you more job opportunities.

There’s no other person you take pride more in having besides your husband, but given your line of work, the ball’s in Jungkook’s court. You had no qualms letting it be known that you’re indeed married, but he was the one who advised you otherwise. Not once did you either make or respond to a comment regarding your relationship status, always finding a way to dodge the question.

Jungkook wants you to not acknowledge his existence — he denied the opportunity to be known as your husband. Even more, he denied the opportunity to make it known that you’re married in the first place.

For him, it’s because he thinks that your relationship status isn’t and shouldn’t be paramount to your jobs. He may not fully grasp your line of work like you do, but he doesn’t want to hold you back in case it’s a major factor in keeping you from your passion.

He wants you to be known for your skills and not from a bit of your personal life.

Jungkook doesn’t want his privacy, or anyone else related to him in that matter, to be unnecessarily hounded for the mere sake of it. More than ever, one glimpse of him is all that it could take for your bigger and newer base of fans to dissect his identity.

He knows that it pains you every now and then that you can’t show him off like how you used to before all the fame rolled in. Now, you’re not as comfortable with initiating PDA in front of your closest friends even if it’s in private spaces, in the suspicion that anyone could have their eyes on you with malicious intent.

It may be your career on the line but it’s Jungkook’s life that you’re more concerned about. You’ve grown to have thick skin under harsh lights and you don’t want to test if that same hypothesis works on your husband — you don’t want to risk anything that he doesn’t want to.

The ball’s in his court now when you ask him if he can be there for you in a press conference for the biggest thing in your career; in the same way that the ball was in his court if he wanted to let everyone know that he’s your husband.

“I can’t,” Jungkook kisses his teeth at the way your face falls immediately, even your quick work of trying to mask it doesn’t work because two seconds later, you realized that you’re allowed to be upset. “I have a thing on Saturday.”

This is love.

You don’t have to make love hard — as much as you can, you want it to be easy. This is supposed to be easy love.

“Okay, I understand.”

You’re only gonna wallow on Jungkook’s rejection today and once the clock turns for tomorrow, you’re gonna let it go. You’re gonna allow yourself to be upset and after that, you steel your nerves and just let it go.

Sometimes, love means that Jungkook can’t always be there for you when you need him.

Sometimes, love means that both you and Jungkook are busy with your own things on a Saturday.

( ♡ )

"I wish-"

"You wish Jungkook was here — yeah, I know," Seokjin sighs before you could even finish your sentence, having heard your profession of longing atleast thirty times before within the past hour.

Jin's entertaining to be with, much more talkative than his cousin Jungkook. You're close with your staff but he's perhaps the only one you could talk to without reservations, sparing no details with anything. Your husband only told you in passing three months ago that his older cousin finished his master's degree in cosmetology, and before he knew it, Jin was already hired as your head stylist.

"That wasn't what I was gonna say," you huff, crossing your arms across your chest but immediately retracting when he swats at them. He just steamed your top and you're already wrinkling it to his annoyance.

"Hm? What were you supposed to say then?"

He's talkative without being obnoxious, something you appreciate deeply. Jin was just sometimes too slippery with his words that you're taken off-guard sometimes.

It’s the day of the press conference and there's no point in denying that you need Jungkook here with you. Any type of caffeine in the morning was forgone but your fingers still shake, sweaty no matter how many times Jin wipes at them with a towel.

You've been part of this industry for years but this is the highest peak you've ever reached so far, the rational part of your brain thinking that it's realistic to become beyond nervous. The rational, realistic part of your brain also thinks that it's reasonable to miss Jungkook; perhaps to be even a little bit upset that he couldn't be here for you.

Jin waits for you with a raised brow, already smiling smugly when you release a defeated sigh.

"I wish Jungkook was here."

“I figured,” he solemnly smiles, about to pat the top of your head but upon realizing that he spent two hours perfecting it, settles for kissing his finger and tapping it on your cheek.

It's obvious that you've been out of it since this morning. You're not as bubbly or accommodating and you haven't even bantered with your co-star Yoongi, the playful tiffs already cemented as a staple within your genuine off-screen dynamic.

Jin recognizes that he's put in a semi-difficult spot between you and Jungkook, considering that the three of you are related to certain degrees. He gets your side but he also gets Jungkook's side of the equation too; it just happens that he chooses to empathize with you more.

“Chin up. It might seem like Sora still has that effect on him, but trust me, they’re really just friends.”

The gigantic dressing room you and Yoongi share never quiets down. It's hectic with everyone coming in and out of it, the buzzing serving as white noise to your thoughts. You're barely even listening to be honest, but at the mention of her, your breath hitches automatically.

Her, as in Sora.

Sora, as in Jungkook's ex he’s known for almost half of his life, and the woman he was in a relationship with for three years.

She was harmless as far as you knew. She was a memory of the past and reminded Jungkook of the simplest, happiest, and even the worst times of his life prior to meeting you.

You don’t feel insecure but if you must look at the time — you’ve known Jungkook for five years; four you know him of as a boyfriend, and one you know him of as a husband.

Sora doesn't intimidate you but the mark she left on him does. She's a memory that's timeless no matter how faded and bitter because she's your husband's first love. The two of them are cordial with each other, considering that they were friends before they became a couple.

You trust Jungkook.

What you don't trust is the overwhelming feeling of being overlooked in favor of her, no matter the context.

“Seokjin,” your blood runs cold because the grip you have on your chair loosens, the sudden stiffness of your body making Jin aware that this is only the first time you've heard of it.

You feel so much for your husband but none of it is of love at the moment. Your teeth grind together but it isn't because you're mad. Your eyes prick but it isn't because you're upset. Jungkook's unbelievable but it isn't the kind that makes your heart leap.

The composure retains in your body but you're certain that you're bound to lose it sometime. Maybe you're bound to lose it when you're about to get your pictures taken with Yoongi and you hold on to his forearm and realize that oh, your husband isn't watching. Maybe you're bound to lose it when you bow in front of the media panel and scan the room and realize that oh, your husband isn't here for you.

There's no exact time to when you're gonna lose it but you feel the bile rising in your throat. You weren't gonna puke anytime soon, but the bitter taste doesn't leave the roof of your mouth no matter how much you clench your jaw; you're losing it painfully slow.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

( ♡ )

It’s only meant to be a little tradition.

April 23 was only meant to be a tiny celebration. It used to be his and Sora’s day, a silly occasion they’d get together for. There’s nothing extravagantly special about the date — they just happened to be teenagers at one point, and did something monumental at the 23rd of April, then collectively decided that it was a date to remember.

That “monumental” occasion was as simple as them going to a tent bar. There wasn’t anything in the air that night besides the clear fog from both rain and the cold, but Jungkook remembers that night to be warm.

They were friends at the time, and although none of them tried to tiptoe the line by then, Jungkook could recall every single thing they discussed despite being drunk. Sora made him laugh so much over something mundane and he doesn’t know why he laughed that hard, but he could still remember how his throat hurt so much from giggling.

April 23 was already a special date before it coincidentally became the same day he formally asked Sora out. It just happened to be their anniversary later on, but even without the occurrence of the latter, it would still be dear.

Jungkook’s long over Sora and it’s evident. He’s completely moved on and he doesn’t have any bit of hate tied towards her.

It’s just recognition, he figures. He recognizes that the particular date, for several consecutive years, was the happiest day of his life. He recognizes that at one point, Sora was the woman he loved most and made him the happiest.

When Jungkook celebrates April 23, he celebrates a fond and warm memory he had at a tent bar with Sora.

When Sora celebrates April 23, she relishes the memory of her best friend becoming her boyfriend; the love of her life at both phases.

The date was at a Saturday, as in the same exact weekend that your drama’s conference was on. Jungkook didn’t even realize it at first that both dates coincided, and although he did tell you that he wouldn’t be able to be there for you and you understood, he can’t help but feel guilty.

The press conference is available for livestream and even if he’s just one click of a link away because you sent it to him, Jungkook couldn’t even stomach to open your message.

In hindsight, he doesn’t even know what exactly he’s scared for that he denied the opportunity to be there with you. He can’t recall anything now; were the concerns he initially had so troubling that he couldn’t be there for you?

He vaguely remembers that it’s his concerns for his privacy. In actuality, Jungkook could’ve strolled in there with a staff ID and no one would’ve questioned his identity. He could’ve been there with you disguised as anyone but your husband — but he chose not to.

He’s oblivious to your turmoil because if he were to switch on the livestream now, he’d know that your gaze is distant while Namjoon’s discussing his inspiration behind this screenplay. He’s talking about love and commitment and labels and if Jungkook were to look at your blank yet weighted gaze right now, he’d know what you were thinking.

Is the prospect of being known as your husband so unappealing to him?

Jungkook’s guilty enough to swallow the fact that you’re too understanding towards him. If the roles were reversed and you told him you had a thing on the same exact day he needed you, he’d be upset beyond reprieve.

Maybe you were upset at him, but you just didn’t tell. Maybe if the roles were reversed, Jungkook thinks he’d only be upset at you for a maximum of a whole day, and attempt to not think of it for any longer.

Jungkook’s guilty, but not guilty enough to let the remorse he has to take over his whole day. Last year, he celebrated the day by buying twenty-three things for himself, no matter how self-indulgent it felt.

The twenty-three things he bought were a mix of both necessities and luxuries, one being a bigger bottle of shampoo and one being a designer pair of sneakers.

You were out of the house that day, distinctly remembering that you were taking new headshots the whole morning. Jungkook, however, felt too selfish that he bought all these things for himself so he made sure to grab more than a couple of items for you, having to take two trips to his car to load all the bags in his hands.

You laughed, asked playfully what was the occasion, and when he didn’t answer — you didn’t push.

April 23, for the last five years, was celebrated by Jungkook alone.

He’s guilty, but not guilty enough to look at his phone when it rang and the caller ID belonged to Sora.

He’s guilty, but not guilty enough to take on her invite for a café brunch because she was in the area. She was familiar in the sense that even if her presence in his life is no longer constant, the moment he sees her, it’s as if they’ve met everyday.

Sora’s familiar to the point that Jungkook knows about her quirks and flaws. The said traits of hers have long changed and evolved and although Jungkook doesn’t know the current versions of them, the remaining knowledge he has about her makes no move in losing his mind.

The two of them are old, casual friends that are merely catching up. Jungkook doesn’t yearn for his past with Sora nor long for any future with her, but whatever it is that they’re doing now, placates both of them.

“So? How’s everything going?” Sora asks with a laugh across in a restaurant they used to frequent years ago. It’s changed through the years and although the lighting has been changed and the menu has been swapped out, it’s still the same. It’s old and outdated, but it’s familiar.

Sora didn’t ask him what he wanted and instead, ordered what the two of them always used to eat. Jungkook isn’t even sure if she realizes that she did it out of routine, but when platters of both lasagna and chicken wings are dropped onto the table, that’s when Sora’s face flushes at the recognition that she didn’t even think twice.

The lasagna tasted more sour than the last time they ate it years ago. Jungkook grew out of his fixation on cheesy, melt-in-your-mouth, twenty-seconds-to-chew lasagna. The chicken wings tasted less of fresh cooking oil and more of battery acid than the last time they ate it years ago. Sora lost her affinity for marinated in butter, heavily-seasoned, too-hot-to-eat chicken wings.

They grew out of it.

They grew out of each other in the same way that their used-to-be favorite restaurant evolved. The establishment was modernized but in certain ways, it was still outdated. The cushions in the booths have been re-upholstered but the foam is still lived-in; the chalkboard menus have only been painted over but the chips on the frame are still visible.

“Everything’s been good with me,” Jungkook says with affirmation, a dimpled smile present on his face. It’s not like Sora would ever doubt his answer because notably enough, Jungkook himself knows that he looks and feels the best he’s ever did.

“How about you?” he returns the question politely, earning a laugh at his promptness.

“Everything’s been great with me too.”

For two hours, the two of them catch up for the past years they haven’t accounted for. There’s patches of silence here and there but it was needed, serving as a comfortable reminder that they’re only here for April 23.

Jungkook has a habit of playing with his wedding ring during conversations but it was only then did he realize that you took both of your bands to get it cleaned yesterday. He realizes it now, unsure to whether it’s a blessing or not that out of all days, it had to be now when he’s in front of his ex, at this exact date.

They’ve perhaps caught up with everything but one, the topic of their current relationship statuses off the table. Sora doesn’t ask and Jungkook doesn’t bring it up either.

Jungkook doesn’t know if his moral compass directed him the best it ever could today. He doesn’t feel the guilt when he’s driving home, but he does feel it when you come home a little later at night than what you’ve promised him, the tinge of alcohol slightly stuck to your clothes. There should be no intense guilt that he knows of because the way he justifies it in his head, you trust him completely and Sora’s merely a friend.

The guilt that sticks with him tonight is that he should’ve told you what April 23 means to him, why he chose not to come to your press conference, and that he met up with Sora today — and that those three things intersecting today was unplanned.

He asks you about your day, you answer, but you don’t ask him about his. Jungkook knows you’re upset at him for not coming out to support you today, but he figures to apologize to you and come clean about his day tomorrow. You’re irritable tonight for an additional reason more that he doesn’t know of so he doesn’t push it. Tonight, Jungkook doesn’t know that Seokjin accidentally ratted him out to you this morning; he doesn’t know that you know he met up with his ex.

You hold it together tonight. You hold every bit of your building insecurity and anguish because frankly enough, holding a conversation after today would make your head explode. Confrontation is avoided for tonight because if you think about exerting your mind for longer than a minute, you would be physically sick.

The guilt sticks with him when your back is turned to him and you only hum when he greets you good night. You must’ve already been knocked out when he tells you he loves you, but either way, the lack of the words echoed back to him haunts Jungkook a little more.

The bedroom’s pitch black and it’s enough for the guilt to subside momentarily, but a single stray thought passes Jungkook’s mind and his inability to answer it is jarring enough to make it seem like the room was on fire, his lying figure going tense beside you.

If Sora had asked him if he was married, Jungkook’s unsure if he would’ve told her the truth.

( ♡ )

Jungkook has an ex.

Her name’s Sora, something that just slips right off the tongue but doesn’t make it anything less than unforgettable. You don’t know her personally but you know of her — you know her in the light of your husband’s eyes.

She's pretty. A humble type of pretty that still hates her nose and the back camera, the type that doesn't know just how beautiful she is. Jungkook spared you the details of what she looked like, but from what you’ve heard from his cousin and his friends, both her features and aura are exactly what would sound like Jeon Jungkook’s first love.

She's funny, in the same exact way that effortlessly makes Jungkook snort under his breath. They were a lot like each other, you’ve figured. You haven’t seen any photos of them but if you were, you bet everything that Jungkook would have the biggest smile you’ll ever see.

She tries, but she doesn't try too hard.

He’s told you about his past relationship in passing, affirmative that he might have glossed over some details to spare you from any hurt. Jungkook speaks about Sora like she’s a memory and not merely an ex-girlfriend that took up years of his life.

Maybe it’s because Jungkook talks a little more and enunciates a little louder when he talks about the things he loves. He told you about Sora in the same way he told you about his recollection of his first international trip with his parents as a child: fond and unyielding.

You know Sora in the way that Jungkook described her to you — there’s no other way. There’s no anger you can harbor nor distaste because in any way that you look at it, you don’t know her.

You know Sora as the girl who had helped Jungkook through the tough times he had growing up — she’s his first love for a reason. He told you about her and you accepted it; even thanked him for being open because not everyone would willingly talk about their past relationships to their current partners. He had told you about her when you were just his girlfriend at the time, pleasantly surprised that you didn’t react adversely by the time he was finished.

There's nothing you can do about it. Sora belongs in Jungkook’s past, while you belong to both Jungkook’s present and future. In a way, you're grateful for her — in some somber, reminiscent, slightly odd way, you’re thankful for Sora taking care of Jungkook before you came into his life.

The weight of Jungkook refusing to be with you at an important milestone in your life in favor of celebrating his anniversary with his ex hasn’t fully materialized yet. It hasn’t weighed down on your bones yet, nor has it filled up your lungs.

The hurt you accumulate shows up as rocks, filling your pockets with each one to hide them. It isn’t heavy yet but it’s a heaviness that you notice, the weight enough for you to function slower but not enough for you to pour over.

It’s been two days and Jungkook still hasn’t admitted it to you.

Jungkook wanted to tell you as soon as you woke up the next day but you weren’t there the moment his alarm rang and he chalked it up to your schedule. He figured it was a blessing in disguise because he needed more time reformulating what he was about to say to you, thinking of the best way to deliver the truth in the most casual, non-hurtful way possible.

He figured it was a blessing in disguise until you came home that night much later than you usually did. He waited for you all night and consolidated with himself that he was about to tell you no matter what happens today, but the moment you come through the door, he reconsidered tremendously.

You came home to him with your physique evidently tired, manifesting into a scowl on your visage that makes him avoid eye contact. Better yet, you weren’t even giving any eye contact to him and despite the scowl on your face, Jungkook tried to chase your eyes even if he felt discouraged for a reason.

You looked like you were deep in thought and irritable at that. You looked like you were about to be set off any minute now, and while reconsidering what he was supposed to say, Jungkook’s certain that his supposed confession wouldn’t lighten your mood the slightest bit.

His worry for you trumped the guilt that he felt, welcoming the feeling of concern because even if both things made him feel at unease, it was the one he’s more willing to bear.

Only for tonight, he thought. I’m keeping this with me only until tonight, he mumbled to himself in the bathroom because while you were fast asleep, he had to get away briefly because the guilt was starting to consume him little by little.

It’s the second day and Jungkook still hasn’t come clean to you.

You don’t wait for him to approach you, though. You don’t give him any easy openings as if it’s just him asking for cuddles and you’re lingering by the couch, popping the question so he wouldn’t have the trouble of asking for it. For two days, you don’t give Jungkook the ease you normally would.

The easy-going nature of your dynamic, or atleast what came from your side, has basically dissipated in the past forty-eight hours. You don’t wait for Jungkook to come around; you move.

You move as if you live alone in the moments of whatever’s left of you that hasn’t succumbed to your career. If Jungkook wanted to tell you, he would squeeze himself into your schedule somehow. He would be stubborn and plead you to hear him out. He’s already done this before, and it was for the aftermath of a fight that isn’t even as big as this impending one is.

You haven’t lost it completely. Not yet.

There’s a timer that’s ticking at the back of your mind and you don’t know how much longer you can take — of how longer can you take the weight of your insecurity growing, and the weight of Jungkook keeping things from you.

You have to destress yourself somehow because the resumption of your shooting doesn’t begin for another two weeks and you don’t know if you could hold out for that long, wanting to bury yourself in actual work so a single thought that bloomed into everything much more ugly wouldn’t consume you.

There’s only one thing you could think of.

“And what exactly are you doing here?”

Visit your parents in the shop.

Your dad has his nose playfully upturned, pretending to grimace when you hug him with his apron still on but later returns your embrace. The shop you grew up with still stands as it was the day you left your hometown, the charming family business that put food on the table never weakening.

Your family ran a film developing shop, initially supported only by your neighborhood by the time you were born. It grew into something bigger gradually by the time you could walk and your head could peek out past the counter, when people who needed their headshots taken were accommodated; when orders started rushing in from the city.

It grew bigger that by the time the store accommodated family portrait shoots and you could manage the register and work in the darkroom, a loyal customer surprised your family by making a website and orders started coming in twofold.

It grew to the point that your family’s shop was considered a marvel, until your parents had to hire actual employees and not just you. You grew with the shop; it got you through elementary and paid for your acting classes in high school. You worked the darkrooms until literally the only thing you could see is red; you’ve slept on the floors and kicked out rude customers before; the stepping stool you used as a child to operate the register is still alive to this day.

The shop’s become a part of you, one of the only safe havens you have that no one could bother you. No fans could reach you here; no prying media now that you’re overwhelmingly getting more and more famous as the nights pass. The thought of Jungkook with Sora can’t follow you here.

You’re supposed to be safe here.

“I’m helping out,” you roll your eyes at your dad, intentionally bumping him with your hip as you toddle over to your mother who’s patiently waiting for your hug.

The space behind the counter is still a tight fit with the three of you behind it, having to walk sideways to maneuver if you really wanted to function normally.

“Where’s Jungkook?” your mom asks, handing you your apron that they specifically kept by the back closet. There was only fifteen minutes until opening and you could see a forming queue outside, the thrill of working at the shop coming back steadily.

“He’s busy,” you reply without a second thought, the answer suspiciously coming out fast of your mouth before they could add any additional sentiments. She nods in understanding, although it isn’t lost in you that she’s nodding to herself behind your back, seemingly keeping her confusion at bay for the meantime.

You have a lot of homes. One’s with Jungkook, one’s with your parents. The shop is your home. When your husband drives and it’s night outside and the airconditioning’s a perfect amount of cold, the car becomes your home. When Seokjin does your hair and makeup in an outside shoot and he puts heat packs on the chair for you to sit on warmly, the chair becomes your home.

Almost everything could be your home. With the people you love, with the weather you like, and with the worn-out things you find comfort in.

“You’re back!” Mr. Kim exclaims as soon as he makes eye contact with you, recognizing you who was once the little girl that could barely rip out receipts that later grew through the years, despite the mask you wore as a precaution in case anybody recognized you.

“Only for the day though. I still have that other job, y’know?” you grin from underneath your mask but he returns it right back, supplying an exaggerated wink to get your point across.

“Oh, of course, of course! Whatever that other job might be!” Mr. Kim throws in a wink with a force that’s enough to make both eyes blink, pulling out a chortle you’ve been keeping in since he walked in. “By the way, employee I’ve never seen in my life, can you perhaps sign the back of the receipt? My granddaughter is a very big fan of receipts.”

“Is she now?” you laugh, taking in the meal container he puts his film rolls in (he’s done this your whole life) and swiping in your card sneakily to give him a discount. “Does she take A4 receipts too? There’s no invoice though, only signatures.”

Mr. Kim’s grin takes up his whole face, kind eyes about to cry from how giddy he is to give it to his granddaughter. “Of course! She loves the receipts with inspirational messages!”

Your dad who’d been watching your whole interaction urges the both of you to sit on the side before your whole conversation could possibly be any more obvious, attending to the next person in line. It’s smooth from there, your head feeling unbelievably light because the thought of Jungkook doesn’t cross your mind even once.

If anybody notices you, no one says a thing. A customer or four lingered around even when you gave them their receipt, but not one of them asks you who you are.

It’s nearing lunch break when someone comes in and you’re the only one up front, your parents working the darkrooms to process orders and the other employees working the studios to take portraits.

“Hi,” the tall man greets, grabbing a handful of canisters from his tote bag to place neatly on the counter. He feels familiar to you, his tall stature bringing a few people into mind. “All of these, please. There’s only – ah, wait, sorry! There’s more.”

He’s sheepish, growing embarrassed at the amount of canisters he’s pulling out. He’s at canister number nine now, fishing the last one. “Sorry, I can’t even remember when I took these. I just recently cleaned out my room the other day.”

The guy finally stops rambling and pulls out his wallet, giving you the idea that he must be a regular at the shop with the way he’s casual in making conversation. “By the way, is there-…”

The words lodge at his throat when he makes eye contact with you, your train of thought instantly halting when you make the realization.

“Eunwoo,” you say his name, nodding politely when he does the same in a haze. You recognize him as Jungkook’s friend, one that neither of you have seen in years. The two of you aren’t particularly close but being courteous wouldn’t hurt.

“Y/N, hey,” he smiles tightly, slightly bowing. There’s an awkward air of silence between the two of you, the thought in your head simmering that now that you think about it, you don’t even know why he and Jungkook fell out.

“I didn’t know you… worked here?” he trails unsurely, gaining a breathless chuckle from you because he’s perhaps the first person outside of your closest circle of friends that knew of your connection with the shop.

“My family owns this shop, actually,” you hum, tilting your head down to his films. “Are you a regular here? I haven’t really been home for years.”

“Yeah, yeah. I am,” he nods, scratching the back of his head. He hands you the exact amount of money plus extra, the words coming out of him before you could ask. “Rush order, please. Whenever’s the earliest.”

Eunwoo felt off. More off than the last time you saw him because frankly put, he isn’t exactly the warmest with you even if you’re with Jungkook. At your first meeting he came across as someone who didn’t even want to sit in the same table as you, pursing his lips whenever you talked or addressed him.

“My number’s already in the system. Please text me when it’s finished. Bye,” he wraps off whatever miniscule moment the two of you shared for in under three minutes, seemingly in a hurry to get out of the shop.

That’s awkward, he thinks to himself. After all, Sora’s his cousin — not to mention, he used to look up to Jungkook as a brother.

The whole interaction was off but you don’t want to dwell on it any further, instead switching up the signs and locking the door. If only you knew that the guy standing in front of you just seconds ago would be Sora’s cousin, maybe you wouldn’t be as eager to process the negatives.

Maybe if you knew that your husband and Eunwoo used to be close, with Sora as their initial common denominator, you wouldn’t be as eager to go to the darkroom to process his orders in an instant.

Maybe if you knew that your arrival in Jungkook’s life would unintentionally make his friendship with Eunwoo fall out, making the latter unabashedly angry at you, you wouldn’t be as eager to process memories.

Maybe if Jungkook was just a little more honest and sensible, and maybe if you were more shameless in confronting him all the time — you wouldn’t be as hurt as you are now.

This shop’s your home; no one should be able to harm you here.

There shouldn’t be any bit of anguish or insecurity you should feel because this is supposed to be your safe space. You shouldn’t feel the urge to throw up and clench your jaw to stop yourself from crying because this is your space. This was supposed to be a space that you’re free from insecurity.

You’ve gone through all of the rolls until it was late afternoon and had them developed and fixed within the timeframe. You go through the motions of work and hang them out to dry before you get to scanning and printing them later. You go through the work you’ve always done and it’s only when you return later on to double-check everything and assess your work. To see if there’s any flaws in your work because it’s been awhile since you’ve last developed film. To see if you had to make any apologies in case any of the prints were processed wrong.

There’s nothing wrong with your work.

You wish there’s something wrong with your work.

Out of the hundreds of pictures you’ve developed from Eunwoo’s ten rolls of film, there’s one picture that stands out to you. It stand out like a sore thumb from a sea of unfamiliar places and lousy shots of flowers. It sticks out from the lines of pictures in the darkroom, the picture clear as day even if you thought your prescription needed updating.

It’s Jungkook and Sora.

It’s the two of them sat next to each other at the beach, Jungkook’s hand around her shoulders and Sora’s hand around his waist. They’re close even if they’re sitting on a log together, flowers perched on top of their ears. They’re beaming with pride and the flash highlights their happiness even further — Jungkook having the biggest and happiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. There’s a timestamp at the bottom right corner, reading clear as day; April 23 ‘XX.

The year reads out as the year before you met him. The day reads out as the exact day of your press conference, only years before. The same exact date a few years forward to reach this year, reads as the same day that you needed Jungkook the most — but it just happened that he was with his first love, Sora, someone who isn’t you.

There’s only so much you could take.

Your anger blinds you and renders you to just move. You pluck out the picture from the line with no regard of who you’re taking it from. You just move and leave the shop and drive with no regard to anything besides the anger and despair that you feel.

The picture lays on the passenger seat and you have to resist the urge to look at it because doing so makes you want to rip it apart; to see it made you feel embarrassed. To see Jungkook so affectionate and physical with his love, even in front of people at a fucking beach party of all places, puts you to shame.

It’s perhaps the anger clouding your head that dismantles your memories but you think that Jungkook’s never been this way with you. He hasn’t smiled at you this hard nor shown you off this good.

It’s perhaps the thoughts that beat down on your head that it forms a migraine because you're so fixed on your lover's past love, you seek out what he once loved.

Never have you had the urge to search Sora up and tonight was the the first time you’ve ever seen her, in a picture with your husband no less. You always wondered what she looked like but now that you know, you wish that urge never materialized.

You seek out what he once loved in the hopes that if only you looked like her a little more or acted more like she did, maybe Jungkook would love you the same way that he loved her.

Love’s grounds shouldn’t only be founded on reciprocity but there’s no other time than now for you to desire to be selfish. There’s a desire in you to account for every single thing you did for Jungkook and every single thing he didn’t do for you. It feels like you love him more than he loves you and in your mind riddled with nothing but anger, it sickens you.

The all-consuming thought that perhaps Jungkook doesn’t love you enough because the bigger, more-loving part of his heart doesn’t belong to you, but to Sora instead, makes your body shut down.

When you slam the door open to your home and you’re looking at Jungkook, devoid of patience and every ounce of love you tried to give him, there’s a haunting realization in his spine that settles: you know. You knew even before he could muster the courage to tell you.

There’s no accusations that fall from your lips even if you’re seeing red. There’s no assertions that you make, the question that leaves your lips reflecting how you looked at the entirety of this.

“Why did you even marry me?”

Jungkook’s mind goes into overdrive when you point a stern finger at him, filled with nothing but rage when you thrust something to his chest shakily, albeit gently.

He doesn’t know whether to speak first or grab whatever it is that you put to his chest, sputtering over nothing when he glances down and sees himself — him and Sora, on April 23, a few years ago.

“Why did you even marry me when you don’t smile like that when you’re with me?” you seethe, the tears pouring angrily down your cheeks with no cue at all. “Why did you marry me when you’re happy with her?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” he whispers under his breath, the furrow in his brow settling when he crumples the picture in his hand and throws it to the table.

“Oh no, no, Jungkook. You don’t get to avoid this,” a pained laugh escapes you, leaning to unfold the picture and show it to his face more closely this time, the bitterness evident in your voice. “Does Sora even know that you’re married?”

The question makes his jaw clench, the instinct to play with his wedding band that’s now been picked up from the store just awhile ago coming up to the surface. It reminds him how he hadn’t been wearing it when he met Sora, all the way down to the flawed slippery slope that she didn’t ask, so he didn’t tell.

“No.”

He says it in a meek mumble but you hear it loud and clear, eliciting a scoff that’s pure out offended. You don’t know if you’re surprised at all because hell, even some of the friends that Jungkook’s in good terms with don’t even know that he’s married.

It was no longer a concept of whether they asked, it was him about not wanting to make it known at all.

“I’m protecting you,” he adds sternly, glossing over his concerns for your career and safety. You don’t see it at all because it sounds like static to your ears, all coming down to the conclusion and the truth that when Jungkook didn’t tell Sora that he was married, it was for every other reason besides that.

“You’re protecting me from what? From who? You’re protecting me from your ex-girlfriend?” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “Or are you protecting her?”

You’re not outright accusing him but it seems like that way to him, making his jaw tick. He’s blinded by his pride, one that didn’t know how to deal with you when you were angry at him. Rarely did you ever feel so mad at him, but with the reasoning behind it, perhaps mad wasn’t even the word.

“Why are you so worked up about this?” he seethes in defense, hot on your heels when he follows you.

“Fuck, Jungkook! Are you really asking me that right now?” you exclaim, gripping your hair in frustration. He’s too shallow to argue with you, not even grasping how serious it is. “You wanna know why I’m so worked up about this?” you laugh, the sound coming off as patronizing that it makes his jaw clench.

The weight that builds up in your head is too much, too much that you feel your head physically lulling backwards. The insecurity that forms from the top of your head all the way down to your toes wraps around you too tightly that it felt harder to breathe by the minute.

“Because I’m not your first love, Jungkook.”

When you speak, you don’t know that you tremble. When you point your finger to Jungkook, you don’t know that you feel smaller by the minute.

When you convince yourself that Jungkook loves you the most, more than he had ever loved Sora, the image of her along with your husband looking the happiest appears in your head.

“I’m not your first girlfriend! I’m not her,” you spit because you can’t even stomach saying her name now, the two syllables enough to make your eyes shut in anger. “I’m not your first kiss, I’m not the first girl you introduced to your parents!” you raise your voice, seething because when you think of red, Jungkook’s image of happiness becomes the darkroom of your insecurities. There’s an inkling that you’re hitting deep but you can’t find it in yourself to care, the lump finally unlodged from your throat. “I’m not your first fuck.”

“Stop.”

His voice is hoarse, clearly warning you to not go any further than you did. He’s hurt, the pride he tried to keep just minutes ago completely missing.

“You loved Sora first.”

“I love you,” Jungkook counters. If you won’t listen to him then he atleast needs to say something so mundane, but something so intimate to knock you off-guard. He doesn’t say it much but he means it whenever he does, hoping that it’s sufficient.

It’s not.

“You don't love me enough."

You say it with such a finality that Jungkook staggers on his footing even with no external force to it, the anger you felt transitioning into the sadness you’ve been harboring. You’ve thought about it non-stop especially for the past two days, the words finally being uttered for him to hear. "We should cool off."

Jungkook’s face pales, his previously clenched fists going limp at his sides. The voice is caught on his throat and he doesn’t even know if there are any words to say.

"Let's break up for a month,” you propose in a lighter tone, the roles being reversed because you’re the one looking down and Jungkook’s the one who’s desperate to keep your eyes on him. “I want to break up with you because maybe you'd love me more by then."

You beat him to his thoughts because it’s clear that he’s spiraling, your voice a complete turn as it’s gentle, no longer coated with anger. “We’re not divorcing. It’s just a break.”

Jungkook suddenly snaps out of it seemingly because he shakes his head fervently, not once breaking eye contact.

“I’m not hearing this.”

If he stares at you hard enough, maybe you’d admit that you were being irrational. If he stands still enough for you to notice that he’s crying, you’d retract what you just said.

If Jungkook prays hard enough that the two of you could avoid this and head to bed tonight with no irrational thoughts, you’d tell him that you aren’t pushing through with your proposal.

“I’m not fighting with you.”

He says it with finality, leaving before you could do so and heads to your shared bedroom. He thinks it's just the heat of the moment, that you're not actually going through.

You go into bed with him, and even if you don’t face him, Jungkook relishes in the warmth you provide. He wills himself not to sleep just to be sure you wouldn’t leave him, but somewhere along the way of him being too distraught that his body forced his mind to shut down, you were gone before his alarm went off.

It’s probably just your schedule. This is routine. You wouldn’t push through with what you said last night.

You go into schedule that morning with your eyes bloodshot, with Jimin excusing you immediately to ask if everything was okay. You go with your day with Seokjin looking at you with utmost concern, handling you like you were fragile because you didn’t talk the whole time. You start your day with your stylists poking each other in the eye intentionally to try and see which eyedrops would work the best on your eyes, to conceal the fact that you’ve cried the most you ever did last night.

You start the day with a televised interview, with Min Yoongi right by your side.

There’s no briefing at all for the interview, no cue sheet that made it more nerve-wracking for any celebrity that had a slippery mouth. There’s no holding back, especially coming from the interviewer that spared no tact.

“Do you have a husband or y’know, perhaps a boyfriend? Anyone special at all?”

You think of saying that you have Jungkook — that you have a husband but the answer gets caught in your throat. You remove your wedding ring for work, and only then do you realize that you haven’t been wearing it at all for the past three days.

Your pause is evident, unbeknownst to you. Your manager Jimin knows it, the interviewer knows it, the live audience knows it.

Your parents know it. Jungkook knows it.

You try to open your mouth again but it’s only a chuckle that leaves you, unintentionally raising more commotion from the crowd. You try to rally everything within your mind, the hurt that manifested as rocks in your pocket increasingly become heavier by each second of silence that you let pass; your husband still celebrates his anniversary with his ex; Jungkook's ex doesn't know that he's married to you.

The answer’s clear — it’s as clear as the articles of speculation that would pop out even before this interview wraps up, garnering more unwanted attention to yourself.

The bitterness of regret is proof you’ve atleast tried something.

Jungkook’s heart belongs to you but you failed to consider that the first one who built it has perhaps already settled there. If your love belongs to the ground floor then perhaps her love belongs to the basement. If your love is the ceiling then maybe her love is the foundation.

If Jungkook’s heart is a newly-built house, then maybe the more that it settles into the ground, the closer he becomes to his roots.

You aren’t his roots. Sora is.

Jungkook watches your interview from home, the hurt that bubbles up from the tip of his head coming down to the weight on his hands that tries to placate him by playing with his wedding band. He counts the digits that make him calm, willing everything in as the clamor from the crowd gets more fervent.

Four seconds. Breathe in through your nose.

Seven seconds. Hold it.

Eight seconds. Exhale through your mouth.

You beam at the interviewer as if you haven’t spent a lifetime thinking of your answer, shaking your head with a poised gesture of your left hand, devoid of any proof that tied you to Jungkook.

“I’m single.”

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