Chapter Text
Early Summer 2025
As soon as Namjoon shows up at your door, all casual smiles and forced innocence, you narrow your eyes at him.
“What are you planning, you devil.” He doesn’t even pretend to be innocent. He just grins, already pushing past you as if this is his place and not yours.
“You always say that like it’s an insult,” he mumbles, already toeing off his shoes. “I am telling you need this, y/n.” Namjoon says as he drags you toward your room so you can get dressed.
“Namjoon—” you start, but he cuts you off with a hand raise.
“I'm not here to argue, baby.” He moves through your living room like a habit he forgot how to break, pausing at the stack of ignored books and the tea you let go cold. Like your excuses. “It’s just dinner,” he says, tugging lightly at your wrist. “At Hobi and Yoongi hyung’s place. It’s been years.” You don't reply, and he knows you’re on the edge of resisting. “They miss you,” he adds, voice gentler now. “We all do.” You stay still. Arms crossed. The hallway suddenly feels too quiet. The light in your room too dim.
“You know why I'm hesitating, joon.” You try to sound steady. Your usual blend of calm and sarcasm. But it comes out soft. Small. And then you realize, it’s not Namjoon you’re trying to convince. It’s yourself.
Namjoon watches you, his teasing stripped away. He’s not pushing anymore. He’s just there, the way he’s always been. Constant. Safe. “I know, baby,” he says. “I know why you haven’t gone back. Why you stopped showing up. But they never stopped thinking about you.”
A pause.
“He never stopped.” And there it is. The name you’ve tiptoed around for years. The one you only let haunt you in the early mornings or right before sleep. Never out loud. You swallow. Blink once. Then twice. Your heart flutters in a way that feels like pain pretending to be nostalgia.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” you say, forcing a playful glare. “You always do that when you're trying to manipulate me.”
“Because it works,” he smirks.
You scoff, but the fight’s already draining out of you like air from a balloon. You glance toward your closet, pretending to think, even though your mind already drifts back to him. The way he once waited for you outside in the rain. The way he looked at you like the stars were something to wish on, not understand.
“Okay,” you sigh, push your hair back, glance at the mirror, then at the closet. “Okay, I get it, Nam. I'll go get dressed.”
You walk past him, slow and quiet.
Namjoon doesn’t say anything. Just smiles, the quiet kind. And sits down on the edge of your couch like he’s won, but isn’t gloating. As you slip into your room and close the door behind you, your fingers graze over familiar clothes, familiar colors, and you pause. Not because you’re unsure what to wear. But because you’re unsure what version of yourself you’re supposed to be when you see him again. The past is too far away. The present is too fragile. And you’re not sure if you're ready to meet the version of him that survived without you.
Namjoon doesn’t follow. He gives you that space. He knows this isn't just about a dinner. It's about memory. It’s about walking into a room where love once lived, and wondering if it still does.
And if you’re being honest, you do miss them. All of them. Even him.
…………………………………………………………………………………………
Dinners at Hobi and Yoongi’s apartment are warm, filled with food and laughter, everyone talking over each other like old times. The music’s low, the lights soft. and you do your best to smile through it all..
Jungkook hasn’t said much since you arrived. He’s been friendly. Polite. But distant. Like someone trying to draw boundaries no one asked for. You’re seated across from him. Not close, not far. Namjoon’s beside you, and on the other side, Taehyung. Which wouldn’t be a problem… if you weren’t laughing like that at something Taehyung whispered in your ear.
Jungkook’s hand pauses around his drink. He doesn't even know what Taehyung said. It could’ve been something dumb. Probably was. But it’s the way your eyes crinkle, that unguarded joy, that gets to him. He rolls his eyes, knowing taehyung, probably doing it on purpose.
"That close, huh?" Yoongi teases lightly, looking between you and Taehyung.
You open your mouth to answer, but Taehyung gets there first.
“What can I say? She missed me more than anyone else.”
You laugh, nudging him playfully.
Jungkook looks down. Picks at the label on his beer bottle, fingers working the edge until it curls under his thumb. He doesn’t say a word. But Namjoon, sitting across from him, sees it. Always has.
Namjoon tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Still jealous, huh?”
Jungkook lets out a low scoff, more air than sound. “Of Tae? Please. We shared a bunk bed.”
Namjoon raises a brow but doesn’t push. Just takes a slow sip from his drink, watching Jungkook with quiet patience.
“That doesn’t mean you’re cool with it,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself.
Jungkook shrugs, too quick, too sharp. “She can talk to whoever she wants.”
And maybe that’s true. Maybe he means it.
But the words come out clipped, like they’re trying too hard to sound casual. Like if he says it fast enough, it won’t ache.
Across the room, laughter ripples. Yours.
Bright, effortless, the kind that spills out without hesitation. And he hears it before he sees it. before his eyes flicker up, just once, just long enough to catch the curve of your smile as your head tips back in delight, hand brushing Taehyung’s arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It’s innocent. It’s friendly. Anyone would know that.
But Jungkook’s jaw tenses anyway.
And in that one second, when he lets himself look at you, his eyes are loud.
Louder than his silence.
Louder than the words he won’t say.
And Namjoon sees that too.
Because sometimes, the quietest looks carry the weight of all the things you're not ready to admit.
‘Don’t look at him like the way you used to look at me.’
…………………………………………………………………………………………
You walk past the balcony to grab your coat but Jungkook’s already out there, leaning against the railing, cigarette burning low between his fingers. He doesn’t smoke often. Only when something’s eating at him. You hesitate. Then step out into the quiet. “Hey, you okay?”
He doesn’t turn to face you, but you see his jaw tighten, “Yeah. Just need some air.”
“You could’ve said something.”
“What would I have said, Y/N?” he says finally, voice low. “That watching you laugh like that made me feel like the room tilted?”
Silence.
“You left,” he adds, quieter. “And I told myself I wanted you to be happy. I still do. But god, it’s harder to mean it when I have to see it.”
And you’ve had enough.
“You’ve been quiet all night,” you start, your voice sharp but soft. “Except when you’re staring.”
He doesn’t look at you.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“You were,” you snap. “At me. At Taehyung. At everything except your own plate.”
He shifts, jaw tight. Still says nothing. That’s what does it.
“God, Jungkook. say something! Anything! Do you want to talk? Do you want to fight? Or do you just want to sulk and pretend none of this is happening?”
He finally meets your eyes. And you wish he didn’t because it hurts. That look. That ache.
“What do you want me to say, Y/N?”
“That you’re jealous,” you fire back. “That it bothered you seeing me with someone else. That you still—” you stop. Swallow. “Or maybe say you’re not. That you’re over it. That you’ve moved on and it doesn’t matter who I laugh with anymore.”
You pause, chest rising and falling too fast now.
“Just stop acting like I don’t matter and then looking at me like I’m everything.”
His jaw tightens. A breath hitches in his throat. And still, he says nothing.
“Say something real, Jungkook,” you whisper, voice softer now, like the fight is leaving you. “Even if it wrecks me.”
Hates how close it sounds to begging. “I’m not going to keep guessing what you feel anymore, Jungkook. Done that before. I waited. I stayed soft while you stayed silent.”
He looks away. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is with you.”
You step closer. not out of affection, but frustration.
“You say you weren’t ready back then. Fine. But what are you doing now? You’re still holding on! just enough to hurt me but never enough to stay.”
“I’m trying,” he says.
“No, you’re hovering.”
Silence.
You laugh, but it sounds tired.
“You get jealous, Jungkook, but you don’t want me. No. Not really. You just don’t want anyone else to have me either.”
He flinches. You regret it. But only a little.
“If you want me, say it. If you don’t, stop looking at me like you still do.”
He breathes in like he wants to say something. Then stops. Always stops.
So you shake your head. Step back.
“That’s what I thought.” You walk away this time. Not because you want to. But because you’re done waiting for someone who never meets you halfway.