Work Text:
###
The One Who Got Away (and is Now Apparently Getting Married?)
Jungkook Hated Weddings.
Which, to be fair, was a problem, considering he was a wedding planner.
It wasn’t that he was bitter. He didn’t sneer at happy couples or secretly root for them to fail. He was a professional. He made dreams come true. But when you’d spent years watching people have epic breakdowns over seating charts, scream at their spouses over cake flavors, and declare their undying love only to divorce two years later—well.
The magic wore off.
Still, the pay was good. And most of the time, Jungkook could fake enough enthusiasm to get through the day.
Today, however, was not one of those days.
Today, Jungkook stared at the name on his newest client’s file and felt his stomach drop through the floor.
"Kim Seokjin," he read aloud, numb. Then, louder—"You have got to be f—"
A sharp voice cut him off. “Language.”
Jungkook looked up to see Hana, his assistant, striding into the office, a clipboard tucked under one arm. She was the only person who could tell him what to do without getting fired for it.
“What’s the problem this time?” she asked. “Groomzilla? Entitled influencer bride? Another couple trying to haggle down the price of an eleven-piece live orchestra?”
Jungkook could barely hear her over the sound of his life falling apart.
He dragged a hand down his face. “Worse.”
Hana raised an eyebrow. “Worse than the guy who wanted his vows sung by a choir of children dressed as angels?”
Jungkook nodded, grim.
“Worse than the woman who demanded her ex not be allowed within a fifty-mile radius of the venue, and then invited her ex’s entire family?”
“Yes.”
Hana snatched the file from his hands and scanned it. “Kim Seokjin…” She frowned. “Wait—isn’t that…?”
Jungkook braced himself.
Her eyes widened. “Oh my god. That’s your ex.”
Jungkook closed his eyes. “We don’t use the E-word.”
“This is the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Hana announced gleefully, clutching the folder like it held the meaning of life.
“This is a catastrophe,” Jungkook corrected. “This is karma finally catching up to me for every bad thing I’ve ever done."
“Bold of you to assume you weren’t already doomed.” She flipped through the pages. “Let’s see… wedding date, guest list, venue preferences… oh, this is juicy.”
Jungkook groaned, slumping over his desk. “Just kill me now.”
“Absolutely not. I need to watch this unfold.” Hana grinned. “Besides, you have a meeting with the happy couple in twenty minutes, so you’d better slap on your ‘love is beautiful’ face.”
Jungkook exhaled through his nose. He had moved on. He had rebuilt his life. He had spent years making absolutely sure that he would never have to see Seokjin again.
And now, the universe was shoving him back into the fire.
Great. Fantastic. He couldn’t wait.
---
###
The Reunion (Otherwise Known as Hell in a Five-Star Hotel Café)
Jungkook arrived at the venue early. A luxury hotel, sleek and expensive, with staff that glided more than they walked. Everything gleamed under soft golden lights—the marble floors, the polished silverware, the crystal-clear glass windows overlooking the city skyline.
He should have been mentally preparing for the meeting. Instead, he was actively trying not to throw up.
Then the door opened, and—
Seokjin walked in.
Jungkook’s breath caught.
It had been years, but Seokjin looked exactly the same. No—worse. He looked better.
His face was still unfairly symmetrical, sharp jawline cutting through the warm glow of the restaurant lights. His hair was neatly styled, his suit effortlessly expensive. He had that same casual confidence, the kind that made people stop and stare, wondering if they’d just brushed past a celebrity.
Jungkook, meanwhile, had nearly spilled coffee on himself five minutes ago and was holding in an existential breakdown.
Seokjin’s gaze swept the café, searching. Then—his eyes landed on Jungkook.
He paused.
A flicker of something crossed his face, gone too fast to read. Then—he smiled. That damn smile. The same one that had once undone Jungkook’s entire world.
“Well, well,” Seokjin said, stepping closer, voice warm with amusement. “If it isn’t Jeon Jungkook.”
Jungkook swallowed, forcing himself to stand.
Professional. Calm. Normal.
“Kim Seokjin.” His voice came out even. Miraculously.
Seokjin tilted his head, assessing. “You look…” A deliberate pause. “Different.”
Jungkook deadpanned. “You look… alive.”
Seokjin let out a sharp laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
Jungkook gritted his teeth.
Do not fall apart. Do not fall apart.
Seokjin took a seat across from him, stretching out like he owned the place. “So,” he said, “you’re my wedding planner?”
Jungkook forced a smile. “Looks that way.”
A silence stretched between them, heavy with things left unsaid.
Jungkook had prepared for this. He had practiced in the mirror, perfected his ‘I am totally fine and unaffected’ expression.
But it was one thing to brace for impact. Another to actually be here, sitting across from Seokjin like they were nothing but strangers.
Jungkook gripped his pen like a lifeline and flipped open the file. Focus. Work. Survival.
“So,” he said, voice level, “who’s the lucky person?”
Seokjin blinked. “What?”
Jungkook exhaled sharply. “Your fiancé? The person you’re marrying?”
Seokjin stared at him.
Then, to Jungkook’s absolute horror—he laughed.
Jungkook scowled. “What’s so funny?”
“You think I’m the groom?” Seokjin smirked, eyes gleaming. “Jungkook. Do I look like a man about to make a lifetime commitment?”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “...Yes?”
Seokjin made a face. “God, no. It’s my brother’s wedding.”
Silence.
A full ten seconds of silence.
Then Jungkook slammed the folder shut. “I need a drink.”
---
###
Damage Control (Or: Jungkook Tries to Recover His Dignity, Fails Miserably)
After a brief internal meltdown, Jungkook recomposed himself.
“Right. Of course. Your brother’s wedding.” He nodded, completely and utterly not mortified. “That makes sense.”
Seokjin, the human embodiment of smugness, grinned. “Did you really think I was getting married?”
“No,” Jungkook lied.
Seokjin raised an eyebrow. “You totally did.”
Jungkook sat up straighter, determined to regain control. “Let’s focus on the wedding, shall we? You’re the best man, which means we’ll be working together.”
“Lucky me.” Seokjin rested his chin on his hand, watching Jungkook with far too much amusement.
Jungkook ignored the way his pulse kicked up under Seokjin’s gaze.
Focus. Survival. Boundaries.
“So,” Jungkook continued, flipping through the planner, “venue, catering, music—”
“Still a workaholic, I see.”
Jungkook barely looked up. “Still insufferable, I see.”
Seokjin grinned. “God, I missed this.”
Jungkook’s fingers tightened around his pen.
He refused to acknowledge the way his stomach twisted at that.
He simply closed his planner, plastered on his most professional smile, and said, “Can’t wait."
Biggest lie of his life.
###
Jungkook Was Going to Need a Raise.
Or therapy. Possibly both.
By the time the meeting wrapped up, he had managed to pry his dignity off the floor, bury his personal crisis under a mountain of professionalism, and get through an entire hour of wedding talk with Seokjin without either throwing his coffee at him or bolting out the door.
He considered that a win.
Of course, the universe couldn’t let him walk away unscathed.
Because as he was gathering his things, Seokjin spoke.
“You still avoid me, huh?”
Jungkook stilled.
Seokjin’s voice was light, almost teasing—but Jungkook knew him too well. He caught the way the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Jungkook adjusted his cuffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Seokjin hummed, studying him. “Right. So it’s just a coincidence that you moved to a whole different city after we—” He gestured vaguely. “You know. Whatever that was.”
Jungkook’s jaw locked.
“We broke up,” he said, flat. “People move on. It’s normal.”
Seokjin’s lips quirked. “Sure. Totally normal to delete my number, block me on socials, and refuse to speak to me for three years.”
Jungkook exhaled through his nose. “I was busy.”
Seokjin leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Busy avoiding me?”
Jungkook refused to take the bait.
This was a test. He knew it. Seokjin had always been good at pushing buttons—always knew exactly where to dig in to get a reaction.
But Jungkook wasn’t that naïve kid anymore. The one who had followed Seokjin around like a shadow, eyes full of stupid, reckless hope.
He had grown up. Hardened.
So he smiled, cool and professional, and said, “If I’d been avoiding you, I would’ve turned this job down.”
Seokjin tilted his head. “And yet. Here you are.”
Jungkook hesitated.
And that… was dangerous.
Because the truth sat heavy on his tongue, clawing its way up his throat.
He could have refused. Could have passed the wedding off to someone else, claimed a scheduling conflict, made up an excuse.
But when he had seen that name on the file, something in him had paused.
Some stupid, weak, pathetic part of him had thought—
Maybe this was his chance to prove something.
That he was fine. That he didn’t care. That whatever feelings had once existed were long gone, buried, dead.
And if he had to sit across from Seokjin and lie through his teeth, then so be it.
Jungkook shrugged. “It’s just a job.”
Seokjin’s mouth curved. “Right.”
Something about the way he said it made Jungkook’s stomach twist.
He pushed back his chair. “I’ll be in touch with the planning schedule. I have another meeting.”
A lie. He just needed to get out.
Seokjin didn’t call him out on it.
He simply let Jungkook go.
Which should have made things easier.
Instead, as Jungkook walked away, something gnawed at him—sharp and uneasy, curling beneath his ribs.
---
###
Damage Control (Again, Because Jungkook’s Life is a Joke)
By the time Jungkook got back to his office, Hana was already waiting.
She was perched on his desk, sipping an iced coffee, looking far too smug for his liking.
Jungkook groaned. “Please don’t.”
Hana batted her lashes. “Don’t what?”
Jungkook threw himself into his chair. “Whatever it is you’re about to say.”
Hana took a deliberate sip. “So. How was your date?”
Jungkook glared. “It wasn’t a date.”
Hana shrugged. “You met up with a ridiculously hot ex, made lingering eye contact, exchanged witty banter, and left emotionally wrecked. Sounds like a date to me.”
Jungkook pointed a finger at her. “I will fire you.”
“No, you won’t.” She grinned. “So? How bad was it?”
Jungkook slumped back, rubbing his temples. “I thought he was the groom.”
Hana choked. “You what? And...he's not?”
“I thought I was planning his wedding.”
Hana cackled.
Jungkook scowled. “Glad you’re entertained.”
“Oh, I am. Deeply.” She wiped a fake tear. “So he’s not engaged?”
“No.”
“And yet, you still look like you got hit by a truck.”
Jungkook exhaled sharply. “He’s—” He shook his head. “He’s still the same. The same smirk, the same stupid jokes, the same way he looks at me like he can see right through me.”
Hana’s expression softened.
Jungkook rubbed his face. “I thought I was over it.”
Hana was quiet for a beat.
Then, gently—“Maybe you’re not.”
Jungkook scoffed. “Not an option.”
Hana tilted her head. “Why not?”
Jungkook stared at her. “Are you serious? We were a disaster. The break-up was a disaster. He—” His throat tightened. “He left.”
And that was the core of it, wasn’t it?
It wasn’t just that they had fought. It wasn’t just that things had ended badly.
It was that Seokjin had walked away. Like it had been easy.
Like Jungkook had been easy to leave.
Hana didn’t press. She just nodded, understanding in her gaze. “So what now?”
Jungkook inhaled deeply. “Now? I do my job.”
Hana arched a brow. “Without spiraling into an emotional crisis?”
Jungkook gave a hollow smile. “That part’s negotiable.”
---
###
The Unavoidable Mess (Otherwise Known as Seokjin in Jungkook’s Office)
Jungkook barely had time to breathe before Seokjin showed up again.
He was in the middle of answering emails when Hana poked her head in. “Hey, boss? You’ve got a visitor.”
Jungkook didn’t look up. “I don’t take walk-ins.”
“Yeah, I know,” Hana said. “Which is why I’m choosing to ignore that rule and let him in anyway.”
Jungkook frowned. “What—”
Then Seokjin strolled in.
Jungkook’s brain short-circuited.
Seokjin looked utterly at ease, hands in his pockets, as if he did this all the time.
Jungkook shot Hana a glare.
She winked and shut the door.
Jungkook exhaled sharply. “What are you doing here?”
Seokjin shrugged. “Had a meeting nearby. Thought I’d drop by.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “You don’t work in this area.”
Seokjin’s lips twitched. “Maybe I just missed you.”
Jungkook gave him a blank stare. “Get out.”
Seokjin laughed.
And that—that was the worst part.
Because it was real. Not the polished charm he used at events, not the controlled humor he wielded like a shield.
It was Seokjin.
And for a second—just a second—Jungkook forgot to be angry.
Seokjin grinned. “Relax, Jeon. I just came to talk.”
Jungkook leaned back. “About?”
Seokjin’s gaze flickered. “Us.”
Jungkook’s stomach dropped.
He forced himself to stay still. To not react.
Then, carefully—“There is no ‘us.’”
Seokjin hesitated.
Jungkook braced himself.
And then—Seokjin smiled.
Light. Easy. Like the words hadn’t just punched him in the gut.
He clapped his hands together. “Great. In that case—drinks this weekend?”
Jungkook blinked. “What?”
“Friends get drinks,” Seokjin said. “And you just said we’re not anything else, so…”
Jungkook stared at him.
Seokjin’s expression was unreadable.
Jungkook should say no.
But for some reason, the words wouldn’t come.
And that—that was how he knew he was screwed.
###
Five Years Ago—When Love Wasn’t Enough
Jungkook had always believed that if you worked hard enough, if you wanted something badly enough, you could make it happen. That was the way the world worked. It had to be.
And for a long time, that belief had included Seokjin.
They had stolen moments between schedules, whispered conversations over phone calls at ungodly hours, kisses pressed into the curve of a shoulder before one of them had to leave. It had been frantic, breathless, desperate—but it had been theirs.
And Jungkook had believed that as long as they held on, they could make it work.
Until the night Seokjin told him otherwise.
They were in Seokjin’s apartment. The one that had been theirs, for as much as it could be when they had barely spent time together in it. It still smelled like them—Jungkook’s cologne, Seokjin’s shampoo, takeout from the place down the street they always ordered from when they finally got a free evening together.
Jungkook was half-asleep on the couch, his head against Seokjin’s shoulder, the warmth of him grounding. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
And then Seokjin had spoken.
"We’re fine, right?"
The words were casual, light. Too light.
Jungkook’s eyes blinked open slowly. He let the question settle, its weight pressing against his ribs.
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
Seokjin let out a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t know. You’re always busy, I’m always traveling. It’s just... a lot.”
Jungkook frowned, shifting so he could see Seokjin’s face. “Yeah, but we make it work.”
Seokjin’s fingers twisted in the hem of his hoodie. His hesitation sent a flicker of unease curling up Jungkook’s spine.
“We do,” Seokjin said. “But for how long?”
Jungkook sat up, fully awake now. “What are you saying?”
Seokjin exhaled, his jaw tight. “I’m saying we’ve spent more time missing each other than actually being together.”
Jungkook’s stomach twisted. “So? We knew this would be hard. That doesn’t mean—”
“I know,” Seokjin interrupted, voice softer. “But maybe… maybe loving each other isn’t enough.”
Not enough.
Jungkook stared at him, heart hammering. “That’s bullshit.”
Seokjin flinched. Just barely. But Jungkook saw it.
“We love each other,” Jungkook said, voice sharper now. “That should be enough.”
Seokjin’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Then why does it feel like we’re losing each other?”
Jungkook opened his mouth, but the words caught.
Because he knew. He had always known.
The missed calls, the exhausted silences, the way Seokjin had stopped waiting up for him, the way Jungkook had stopped asking him to. The way everything had started to hurt.
But it didn’t matter. They could fix it. They always had.
“We just need more time,” Jungkook said, desperate now. “Things will calm down.”
“When, Jungkook?” Seokjin asked, voice raw. “Because every time we say that, things just get harder. And I—” He broke off, swallowing hard. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
Jungkook’s vision blurred. His pulse pounded. “So that’s it?” His voice cracked. “You’re just giving up?”
Seokjin’s breath hitched. “I don’t want to.”
“But you are.”
Seokjin’s hands clenched into fists in his lap. “I’m tired, Jungkook. I’m tired of always missing you. Of wondering if we even make each other happy anymore.”
“You make me happy,” Jungkook choked out.
Seokjin’s face twisted, his breath coming sharp. “Then why does it feel like I’m hurting you more than anything else?”
The air between them thickened, raw and unbearable.
Jungkook wanted to scream. He wanted to grab Seokjin by the shoulders and shake him, tell him they could fix this, that leaving wasn’t the answer.
But Seokjin’s eyes were glassy, his throat working like he was trying to hold back everything he wasn’t saying.
And Jungkook realized—
Seokjin had already made up his mind.
His whole body locked up, panic clawing up his throat.
This wasn’t happening.
This wasn’t—
“Don’t do this,” Jungkook said, barely more than a whisper.
Seokjin swallowed. He lifted a hand, like he wanted to reach for Jungkook, but stopped halfway.
And that—that hurt more than anything.
Jungkook’s chest caved in.
His fingers trembled, nails biting into his palms. He forced himself to stand, even though his knees felt like they would give out.
“If this is what you want,” he said, voice shaking, “then fine.”
Seokjin’s breath shuddered. “Jungkook—”
But Jungkook was already moving.
Already grabbing his keys, his jacket, already running.
Because if he stayed, he would fall apart.
And Seokjin had already made it clear—
He didn’t want to catch him.
###
Present Day—The Wedding From Hell
Jungkook had never been a coward.
But standing in front of Seokjin’s apartment door, about to finalize wedding plans with the man who had once left him shattered—
He wanted to turn around.
He almost did.
But then the door swung open, and there he was.
Kim Seokjin.
The same, and yet not.
Still beautiful, still sharp-edged and soft-spoken, still him.
But there were lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. A weariness that Jungkook recognized because he felt it too.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Seokjin exhaled. “You’re early.”
Jungkook swallowed. “Yeah.”
Silence stretched.
Then Seokjin stepped back. “Come in.”
Jungkook hesitated—for just a second.
Then he did.
The meeting went smoothly.
Too smoothly.
Jungkook kept it professional, focused on the details.
Guest list. Catering. Music.
Seokjin played along.
They kept their distance.
It was fine.
Jungkook had planned weddings for all kinds of clients—celebrities, billionaires, even a pair of high-profile dog influencers. He had dealt with demanding brides, indecisive grooms, and one guy who changed his wedding theme three times in a single week.
But none of that compared to this.
Because here he was, planning a wedding with Kim Seokjin, pretending they were just two professionals and not exes with a tragic backstory.
Fantastic.
"Alright," Jungkook said, keeping his voice neutral, professional. "Let's go over the tasting menu. Your brother and his fiancée picked a traditional Korean spread, right?"
"Yeah." Seokjin leaned back in his chair. "But we need to finalize the side dishes. Mom wants more variety."
Jungkook scribbled a note. "Got it. We'll handle that at the tasting tomorrow."
Seokjin hummed. “By the way, you should know—my family loves you.”
Jungkook’s pen stopped. “...Excuse me?”
Seokjin grinned. “I told them who the wedding planner was, and they practically cheered.”
Jungkook blinked. “I haven’t seen them in five years.”
“They remember you.” Seokjin’s voice softened. “And they miss you.”
Jungkook swallowed.
Unfair. This was unfair.
He forced a laugh. “Well, tell them I say hi. And that I promise not to burn the wedding down.”
Seokjin smirked. “Good. Because Mom said if you screw this up, she’ll personally hunt you down.”
Jungkook snorted. “Sounds about right.”
For a second, it felt normal. Like they were just Jungkook and Seokjin again—bickering, teasing, slipping into easy conversation.
Then Seokjin glanced at him, expression unreadable, and Jungkook felt it. The thing he had been trying so hard to ignore.
The weight of everything unsaid.
---
###
The Menu Tasting (Or: Jungkook’s Slow Descent into Madness)
Jungkook had never been nervous around Seokjin’s family before.
But that was before he had been their son’s failed love story.
Now he was standing in a restaurant, watching Seokjin’s mother beam at him like he hadn’t completely disappeared from their lives five years ago.
"Jungkook!" She clasped his hands, eyes crinkling with warmth. "It's so good to see you!"
"You too, Mrs. Kim," Jungkook said, keeping his smile polite, ignoring the way Seokjin was watching him.
"Come, come!" She gestured toward the table. "Sit! Eat!"
Seokjin snorted. “She’s not going to let you leave until you’ve eaten half the menu.”
Jungkook huffed a laugh. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
And just like that, he was pulled back in.
The dinner was surreal. Seokjin’s parents fussed over him, Seokjin’s brother caught him up on life, and through it all, Jungkook was painfully aware of Seokjin sitting beside him.
At some point, Seokjin got up to help in the kitchen.
Jungkook followed, leaning against the doorway. “Look at you. All domestic.”
Seokjin glanced over his shoulder. “Some of us are multitalented.”
Jungkook smirked. “I remember.”
Seokjin turned, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Jungkook gestured at the food. “You used to make me breakfast.”
Seokjin paused.
Jungkook hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t meant to let the past slip through.
But there it was. Hanging between them.
For a moment, Seokjin just watched him. Then he turned back to the stove, voice quiet.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I did.”
Jungkook’s heart lurched.
And he realized, with absolute certainty, that he was in trouble.
---
###
The Almost-Kiss (Or: Jungkook Should Have Known Better)
It started with wine.
A little too much wine.
The restaurant had closed, the wedding tasting had turned into lingering conversation, more drinks, and the easy rhythm of familiarity.
And somehow, Jungkook and Seokjin ended up alone.
Sitting across from each other, plates pushed aside, a soft glow settling over the room.
Seokjin studied him, quiet for a long moment. Then—
"Do you ever think about it?"
Jungkook’s breath hitched. "About what?"
Seokjin exhaled. "Us."
Jungkook’s grip tightened on his glass. “Seokjin…”
Seokjin leaned forward, gaze unreadable. "Because I do."
Jungkook’s pulse pounded.
Then Seokjin’s hand was on his wrist, warm and too familiar. And suddenly, there was no space between them.
Jungkook’s breath caught as Seokjin tilted his head, just barely closing the distance.
But then—he stopped.
Jungkook pulled away.
And whispered, "We can't do this again."
Jungkook sat there, heart racing, watching as Seokjin turned and left without a word.
Leaving behind nothing but the ghost of what they could have been.
---
The first wedding planning meeting after the almost-kiss was awkward as hell.
Jungkook knew working with Seokjin again would be hard.
He just hadn’t expected it to be this hard.
Because Seokjin was still Seokjin.
Still beautiful. Still infuriating. Still the only person who had ever felt like home.
And Jungkook hated that his body still knew him.
The way his pulse stuttered when Seokjin laughed. The way his stomach tightened when Seokjin’s arm brushed his. The way his heart ached every time he looked at him and thought—what if?
Jungkook kept his eyes on his notes. “So, the venue confirmed the floral arrangements.”
Seokjin hummed. “Good.”
Silence.
Jungkook cleared his throat. “And the guest list is finalized.”
“Right.”
More silence.
Jungkook resisted the urge to sigh.
They were both pretending. Acting like they hadn’t almost crossed the line.
Like Jungkook hadn’t sat awake half the night replaying the way Seokjin’s lips had hovered so damn close.
Like he wasn’t still feeling the phantom warmth of Seokjin’s hand on his wrist.
Jungkook hated it.
He hated that it still felt like this.
So he did the only thing he could.
He forced a smile. And he pretended, too.
---
###
The Moment of Weakness
It was late. The office was empty.
Jungkook had stayed behind, finishing some last-minute paperwork for the wedding.
He wasn’t expecting the knock on his door.
Seokjin leaned against the frame, arms crossed. “Still here?”
Jungkook blinked. “Uh. Yeah. You?”
Seokjin hesitated, then stepped inside. “I was walking by. Saw the light.”
Jungkook nodded slowly. “Right.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
Seokjin sighed, rubbing his neck. “This is weird, right?”
Jungkook exhaled a laugh. “Yeah.”
Seokjin hesitated. Then he sat down across from him.
And suddenly, it felt like five years ago.
Like they were just them.
Jungkook’s chest tightened.
“Jungkook,” Seokjin said softly. “Can I ask you something?”
Jungkook swallowed. “Yeah.”
Seokjin studied him. Then—
“Did you ever hate me for it?”
Jungkook’s breath caught. “For what?”
Seokjin’s gaze didn’t waver. “For ending it.”
Jungkook’s fingers clenched around his pen.
Did he?
For a long time, he had been angry. So angry. At Seokjin. At himself. At the universe for giving him something so good only to rip it away.
But hate?
He looked at Seokjin now—the way his brows furrowed, the way his fingers curled against his knee, the way his eyes searched his face, like he was bracing for impact.
And the answer was so painfully, devastatingly simple.
“No,” Jungkook murmured.
Seokjin’s breath shook.
Jungkook forced a smile. “I could never hate you.”
Seokjin’s eyes flickered. “Jungkook—”
But then he stopped.
Because in that moment, they both knew.
It didn’t matter how much time had passed. How many walls they had built.
The feelings were still there.
Jungkook felt his heart lurch toward him.
And for the first time in five years, he didn’t know if he had the strength to pull it back.
###
A Beautiful Disaster
Jungkook had survived plenty of disasters in his career.
Exploding champagne bottles. Wedding cakes that collapsed seconds before serving. One catastrophic winter ceremony where the bride got frostbite on her toes because she refused to wear shoes in the snow.
He had handled all of it.
But nothing—not even the sheer insanity of event planning—had prepared him for this.
Because right now, in the middle of a half-set ballroom, amid towering floral arrangements and a floor still scattered with packing materials, he was staring down Kim Seokjin like they were the only two people in the world.
And he was about three seconds away from losing his goddamn mind.
It had started with something small.
A disagreement over seating arrangements. A misplaced decoration order. Something trivial.
But trivial didn’t exist when it came to them.
Not anymore.
"Jungkook, I’m telling you," Seokjin said, voice strained, "my mother will lose it if the tables aren’t arranged exactly the way she wants."
Jungkook exhaled, pressing his fingers to his temple. "We’ve already changed them twice, Seokjin. We’re running out of time."
"So?" Seokjin’s arms folded across his chest, his jaw tight. "Change them again."
Jungkook let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Right. Because that’s how this works. I just snap my fingers, and everything magically adjusts?"
Seokjin scoffed. "You say that like you haven’t built your entire career on making impossible things happen."
Jungkook froze.
Something sharp cut through him.
Seokjin didn’t stop.
"That’s what you do, right? You chase perfection so you don’t have to feel anything real?"
Jungkook’s stomach twisted. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Seokjin’s voice was sharper now, edged with something Jungkook couldn’t name. "You’d rather control everything than deal with things you can’t fix. That’s why you buried yourself in work. That’s why you didn’t—" He hesitated, eyes flickering. Then, softer, "That’s why you didn’t fight for us."
Jungkook’s pulse roared.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "Fight for us?" He took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You left, Seokjin."
"And you let me!" Seokjin shot back, eyes burning.
Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath. "What the hell was I supposed to do?" His voice rose now, the weight of everything pressing against his ribs. "Beg you to stay when you’d already made up your mind?"
Seokjin’s throat worked. His hands clenched at his sides.
"I wanted you to stop me," he whispered.
Jungkook stilled.
The words hit him like a punch.
Seokjin let out a shaky breath. "I wanted you to say something. Anything. But you just—" He broke off, shaking his head, voice breaking. "You just walked out and pretended you were fine."
Jungkook swallowed, throat thick. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"I wasn’t fine," he said hoarsely.
Seokjin laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "Then why didn’t you say it?"
"Because you were already walking away!" Jungkook’s voice cracked, his chest aching. "Because I knew you wouldn’t stay! What was I supposed to do, Seokjin? Cling to you while you convinced yourself that we’d never work?"
Seokjin flinched.
For a second, the room fell silent.
Then Seokjin let out a bitter laugh. "Maybe we wouldn’t have."
Jungkook felt that in his bones.
It was like something inside him was breaking, fracturing apart piece by piece.
Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, voice quieter now. "I never wanted to leave you, Jungkook."
Jungkook exhaled shakily. "Then why did you?"
Seokjin closed his eyes, voice barely above a whisper.
"Because I was scared."
Jungkook’s breath caught.
Seokjin’s shoulders were stiff, his fists clenching at his sides. "I told myself it was because of our schedules, or because we’d never make it work. But the truth?" He met Jungkook’s gaze then, and for the first time in years, there was no mask, no performance. Just raw, unfiltered emotion.
"I was scared of how much I loved you."
Jungkook’s heart stopped.
His vision blurred. His chest felt too tight.
Seokjin’s voice dropped lower. "And you know what’s worse?" His throat worked, eyes shining. "After all these years, I still don’t know if that was a mistake."
Jungkook couldn’t breathe.
He wanted to say something. Anything.
But before he could, Seokjin turned on his heel and walked out of the ballroom.
Jungkook didn’t stop him.
###
Jungkook didn’t know where he was going.
All he knew was that he needed to get the hell out.
The moment he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him hard. He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, but the ache in his chest didn’t ease.
His feet carried him down the street, away from the venue, past unfamiliar buildings and blurred neon lights. At some point, he found himself in a bar.
He sat down, ordered a drink, and stared at the amber liquid like it held all the answers.
The fight replayed in his head. Over and over.
I wanted you to stop me.
I was scared of how much I loved you.
Jungkook exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair that Seokjin had spent all these years thinking that leaving might have been a mistake when Jungkook had spent every second convincing himself that it hadn’t been.
He took a sip of his drink, throat burning.
And then—his wallet slipped from his pocket.
He bent down to grab it, flipping it open automatically—
And froze.
Tucked in one of the compartments, hidden behind his ID and cards, was something small, delicate, and stupidly sentimental.
A silver chain.
He reached for it, fingers brushing the cool metal.
Seokjin’s necklace.
The one he had given Jungkook years ago, the one Jungkook had promised to keep no matter what.
He had forgotten it was there.
But apparently, his heart hadn’t.
Jungkook’s grip tightened.
Because no matter how hard he had tried to move on, no matter how much time had passed—
He had never let Seokjin go.
###
Jungkook sat there for a long time, the chain coiled around his fingers, the weight of it sinking into his skin.
A bartender passed by, wiping down the counter, but Jungkook barely noticed. His thoughts were stuck in the past, in a moment he hadn’t allowed himself to relive until now.
The night Seokjin gave him this necklace.
It had been after one of their first big fights—one of those arguments that started small but unraveled everything between them.
"You don’t trust me," Jungkook had accused, voice sharp, standing at the threshold of Seokjin’s apartment.
Seokjin had scoffed, but his face was pale. "That’s not—" He had cut himself off, exhaling harshly. "That’s not true."
"Then why do you keep pushing me away?"
Seokjin had swallowed hard. His hands curled at his sides. Then, without a word, he had pulled something from his pocket and pressed it into Jungkook’s palm.
A thin silver chain.
"This was my brother’s," Seokjin had said, voice quiet but firm. "He gave it to me when I moved away from home."
Jungkook had known about Seokjin’s older brother. Had known how much he meant to him.
"Why are you giving this to me?" he had whispered.
Seokjin had met his gaze, something unreadable in his expression.
"Because you’re my home now."
Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, the memory hitting him with the force of a wrecking ball.
You’re my home.
How the hell had they gone from that to standing across from each other like strangers, throwing accusations like knives?
How had they let so much time pass, never saying the things that had mattered most?
His fingers clenched around the necklace, chest tightening.
Jungkook let out a slow breath, staring down at the chain still wrapped around his fingers.
And for the first time in years, he realized—
Maybe it wasn’t too late.
Maybe this time, he could say what he should have said back then.
Maybe this time, he wouldn’t let Seokjin walk away.
---
##
The Things We Never Say
Jungkook found him by instinct.
Somewhere deep in his bones, he had always known where to find Seokjin.
The park was mostly empty at this hour, dim streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. And there, sitting on one of the benches, hunched over with his elbows on his knees—
Seokjin.
Jungkook’s breath hitched.
For a second, he hesitated.
Then, quietly, he stepped forward.
Seokjin didn’t look up, but his voice was tired when he spoke.
"Took you long enough."
Jungkook exhaled through his nose, sinking onto the bench beside him.
Silence stretched between them. The kind that was too loud.
Jungkook looked down at his hands, then—hesitated. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the chain. He held it up between them, the silver glinting under the streetlights.
Seokjin’s breath caught.
"You still have that?"
Jungkook swallowed. "I never got rid of it."
Seokjin stared at it for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then, voice barely above a whisper—
"Why?"
Jungkook’s fingers curled around the chain, gripping it tightly.
"Because I never let you go," he admitted.
Seokjin’s eyes flickered, lips parting slightly.
Jungkook exhaled shakily. "And you know what’s worse?" His voice wavered, raw with honesty. "I don’t think I ever will."
Seokjin looked away, exhaling slowly, like he was trying to steady himself.
Jungkook bit his lip, then added, softer—
"I don’t want to."
For the first time, Seokjin looked at him. Really looked at him.
And Jungkook knew, without a doubt—
Neither of them had ever let go.
---
##
A Toast to What Could Have Been
Jungkook had survived a lot of emotional whiplash over the years.
But nothing—nothing—compared to standing in the middle of a grand reception hall, watching Kim Seokjin give a speech about love.
The wedding had gone off without a hitch. The bride was radiant, the groom couldn’t stop smiling, and every detail—from the soft flicker of candlelight to the perfectly arranged floral centerpieces—felt like something out of a movie.
It was the kind of wedding people dreamed about. The kind of love people dreamed about.
And Seokjin—Seokjin stood at the microphone, tuxedo crisp, voice warm, presence effortless, delivering the kind of speech that made hearts swell.
Jungkook should have left.
He should have turned on his heel and walked out before Seokjin could destroy him in real time.
But instead, he stood there, frozen, drink forgotten in his hand as Seokjin’s voice echoed across the room.
"Love is messy," Seokjin said, smiling faintly. "It’s terrifying, unpredictable. It never really goes the way you think it will."
Jungkook’s breath caught.
Because hadn’t they been exactly that? Messy. Terrifying. Unpredictable.
His grip tightened around the delicate stem of his glass.
"But if you’re lucky,"Seokjin continued, his gaze sweeping across the room, "you find someone who makes it worth the risk."
Jungkook’s chest ached.
Seokjin’s eyes flickered over the crowd—casual, unfocused, practiced.
But not once did they land on Jungkook.
Not once did they hesitate.
The applause that followed felt distant, muffled under the dull roar in Jungkook’s ears.
He barely registered the laughter, the way people lifted their glasses in a toast to the newlyweds, the way Seokjin returned to his seat like he hadn’t just ripped Jungkook open and left him bleeding in the middle of the reception hall.
The glass in Jungkook’s hand trembled.
He needed air.
---
##
The Only Truth That Matters
The night air was cool against his skin, sharp and sobering.
Jungkook exhaled slowly, pressing his hands against the cold metal of the balcony railing. The city stretched out below him, a sea of glittering lights, distant and untouchable.
It should have been calming.
It wasn’t.
Because no matter how much space he put between himself and that speech, it still echoed inside him, loud and relentless.
"It never really goes the way you think it will."
Jungkook let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
No, it sure as hell didn’t.
A voice behind him made him stiffen.
"You okay?"
Jungkook didn’t turn. He didn’t need to.
He would know that voice anywhere.
Even now, even with everything between them, even after all this time—Seokjin’s voice still hit him like a freight train.
He swallowed hard before answering. "Just needed some air."
There was a brief silence, the kind that stretched heavy and uncertain.
Then Seokjin stepped forward, coming to lean against the railing beside him.
Jungkook risked a glance at him.
Seokjin’s tie was slightly loosened, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. His fingers curled around a half-empty glass of champagne, thumb tracing absent circles against the rim.
He looked good.
Jungkook hated that he noticed.
Hated that after everything, his first instinct was still to memorize him all over again
He cleared his throat. "That was a nice speech."
Seokjin huffed out a quiet laugh. "You looked like you wanted to throw something at me the entire time."
Jungkook smirked, just a little. "Not true."
Seokjin arched an eyebrow.
Jungkook sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, maybe a little true."
A small silence stretched between them.
Seokjin looked down at his glass. "Did you mean it?"
Jungkook frowned. "Mean what?"
Seokjin hesitated. "What you said earlier. About moving on."
Jungkook stilled.
Because he had said that, hadn’t he? Had forced the words out between clenched teeth, trying to convince himself that they were real.
But standing here now, with Seokjin this close, with the past hanging heavy between them—he didn’t know if they were.
So he said nothing.
Seokjin let out a quiet sigh. "I never wanted this, you know."
Jungkook swallowed hard. "Wanted what?"
Seokjin glanced at him then, something raw in his expression. "This. Us, like this."
Jungkook’s heart twisted.
Because neither had he.
##
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The city buzzed below them, the faint sounds of laughter and music drifting through the air, but up here—up here, it was just them.
Jungkook closed his eyes.
He had spent years convincing himself that this was for the best.
That letting go was the only way to survive.
But standing here, with Seokjin’s voice still in his ears, with his presence still pulling at something deep in his chest—he wasn’t sure he had ever really let go at all.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides.
He had spent so long pretending he had made peace with the past.
But the truth—the ugly, undeniable truth—was that he had been running from it.
Because what was worse?
Believing Seokjin had moved on without him?
Or realizing Seokjin had never wanted to?
Jungkook licked his lips, forcing himself to speak. "Then why did we waste so much time?"
Seokjin let out a quiet breath. "I don’t know."
Jungkook swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "Do you think we get a second chance?"
Seokjin was quiet for a long time.
Then, softly—
"I don’t know."
And maybe that was the truest thing of all.
Because love had never been the problem.
It had always been them.
And whether or not they could fix it—that was the question neither of them could answer.
---
## Epilogue
###
The Goodbye That Doesn’t Feel Like One
The wedding ended the way most weddings do—with laughter, with too much champagne, with people swaying half-drunk under the fairy lights.
The bride had long since disappeared into the night, hand-in-hand with her husband. The older guests had trickled out in polite waves, their goodbyes warm and lingering. And now, only the stragglers remained—the ones who refused to let the night end just yet, lost in the hazy glow of love and alcohol.
Jungkook barely remembered saying goodbye.
One moment, Seokjin was standing beside him, the heat of his presence familiar and disorienting. The next, the night had swallowed him whole, leaving Jungkook alone with the weight of unsaid things.
He told himself it was fine.
That there was nothing left to do, nothing left to say.
But for the first time in five years, the silence between them didn’t feel like an ending.
It felt like an ellipsis.
A pause.
A door left open, just wide enough for something uncertain to slip through.
Jungkook stood beneath the dim glow of the lanterns, staring at the place Seokjin had been just moments ago. His glass of champagne dangled from loose fingers, untouched. Conversations swirled around him—soft, meaningless murmurs—but he wasn’t listening.
All he could hear was Seokjin’s laughter from earlier. The warmth in his voice. The way he had said Jungkook’s name, like he had never wanted to stop.
A familiar ache settled in Jungkook’s chest.
Maybe it wasn’t too late.
---
###
Business as Usual (Except, Not Really)
Jungkook buried himself in work after that.
There were clients to meet, designs to finalize, couples who trusted him to turn their chaotic Pinterest boards into something resembling a wedding. He spent hours in meetings, bent over color swatches, arguing over whether blush or champagne was the superior neutral.
Life moved forward, the way it always did.
Except—something had shifted.
A strange, restless energy hummed beneath his skin, something he couldn’t quite name. He caught himself reaching for his phone more than once, staring at Seokjin’s contact before shoving it back into his pocket.
It wasn’t like before.
Before, he had spent years convincing himself Seokjin was gone. That what they had—what they had ruined—was untouchable, irreparable.
Now?
Now, it felt like the story wasn’t quite finished.
He thought about Seokjin at odd moments—while setting up a venue, while watching a bride lace her fingers with her groom’s. It was ridiculous, really, how much space he still took up in Jungkook’s mind.
One night, long after the office had emptied, Jungkook sat alone at his desk, staring blankly at the glowing screen of his laptop. His fingers hovered over his keyboard, the cursor blinking on an unsent email.
He exhaled. Closed the tab.
He wasn’t ready.
###
An Unfinished Conversation
It happened on a Wednesday.
Jungkook had been in the middle of reviewing floral arrangements, his mind blissfully occupied with peonies and eucalyptus, when the door to his office swung open without warning.
He looked up, already prepared to tell whoever it was that no, he did not have time for a last-minute seating chart disaster—
And then he saw him.
Seokjin.
Standing there, slightly windblown, wearing an oversized sweater that made him look far too soft for someone capable of shattering Jungkook’s entire emotional foundation.
Jungkook blinked. "Uh."
Seokjin stepped forward, lips twitching like he was trying to suppress a smirk. He slid something onto Jungkook’s desk.
A wedding invitation.
Jungkook stared at it like it might explode.
"Again?" he asked, voice flat.
Seokjin huffed out a laugh. "Well, it’s one way to stay in touch with you."
Jungkook exhaled, tension he hadn’t realized he was holding bleeding out of his shoulders.
Seokjin watched him closely, eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, after a beat, he nodded toward the envelope. "Take a look."
Jungkook hesitated, then picked it up.
It was a simple, elegant invitation—ivory cardstock, clean black lettering. His brows knit together as he read the names.
His fingers brushed the edges of the invitation, pulse thrumming in his ears. He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he leaned back, smirking just a little. "I charge extra for people who break my heart."
Seokjin rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue.
The room felt smaller, charged with something fragile and tentative.
Jungkook didn’t know what this was.
A reunion.
A second chance.
Or just two people trying to find their way back to each other, one step at a time.
But for the first time in years, he was willing to find out.