early access chapters are available in scrollstckme.

________

I swallowed hard; my mouth suddenly dry as I watched him. He was focused, completely suckered into what he was doing, and to top it all off, he was busy talking on the phone, his voice low and serious. The kitchen was a mess, but Jungkook didn't seem to care. He was busy at the stove, bent over something that smelled heavenly. His broad back was tensely rigid, and every few seconds, he would swear under his breath into the phone clutched tightly in his hand. The pan sizzled, and his voice, deep and frustrated, was added to the weird symphony that seemed to fill the room.

I rounded the corner to the kitchen quietly, not sure about interrupting. He looked so—different, like a man on the edge, holding on by a thread. His normal cool and calm were gone, swept away by this tempest of emotions that found their display across his features as he listened to whomever was on the other side of the line.

"I said no!" Jungkook suddenly barked while slamming the spatula on the counter. His knuckles were white from gripping the phone so hard. "I can't just ignore it! It's not that simple."

He threw a look over his shoulder and caught me watching him, the anger in his eyes flickering with something else—apology, maybe? He took a deep breath, composing himself, before turning back to the pan.

"Look, I'll take care of it," he grumbled into the phone. His voice sounded strained. "But I need some time."

Whoever was on the other end wasn't letting up. Jungkook's shoulders tensed even more, and he started pacing, the phone glued to his ear. His bare feet made almost no sound on the cold, marble floor.

"Okay, okay," he sighed, finally stopping the call. He tossed his phone onto the counter, and in doing so, it made a slightly loud clatter sound across the kitchen. 'Damn it," he said, running his hand through his hair, his frustration basically showing.

For a moment he just stood there, his back to me, his shoulders heaving with the weight of whatever burden had been placed on him. A side of him that I hadn't seen before. A vulnerable, defeated, and completely human front.

I took a tentative step forward, unsure of what to say or do. The tension in the air was so thick, and I could literally feel it in my chest, watching him struggle with whatever it was that had gotten to him. Before I could determine if I would speak, Jungkook turned around, a strained smile playing across his lips. "Alright, let's eat," he said, waving at the stove like nothing had happened.

The food was just a simple thing, but it was the best I had tasted in a long time. I'd made spicy pork stir fry with rice, and although he was still visibly tense, he'd somehow cooked it perfectly. There was an almost tangible feeling of care with which he had prepared this meal—which was obviously in the middle of turmoil for him.

We had our food in silence and my eyes glazed on him, thoughts coming one after another to my head. What had that call been about? What had been eating at him so badly? But every time I asked, he just turned his lips tight and said, "It's just work stuff," shrugging it off like it meant nothing.

Then, without warning, he broke it. "We need to start your self-defense training," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. "From tomorrow onwards, we're doing it together."

The words caught me off guard. I looked at him, surprised, trying to understand the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Self-defense training?" I echoed, uncertain.

The words took me by surprise, a stark contrast to the tension that had just filled the room. "You can't just ignore the world out there," he said, not looking at me. "You need to be able to protect yourself."

"What happened?" I asked gently, sensing there was more to this than he was letting on. His behavior today had been erratic, the phone call clearly upsetting him, and now this sudden focus on my safety—it didn't add up.

Jungkook's jaw tightened, and he set down his chopsticks, his eyes finally meeting mine with a seriousness that sent a shiver down my spine. "It's nothing you need to worry about," he said, his voice tight. "But I can't risk your safety anymore."

Jungkook took a deep breath and picked up his chopsticks, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're not going anywhere without me knowing you can handle yourself," he said, his voice firm. "I won't let anything happen to you."

The way he said it, the promise in his eyes, made me believe him. And for the first time, I felt a flicker of fear for what was waiting outside our little sanctuary. Jungkook had always been my protector, my rock, but now, it seemed like even he was scared of something. And if he was scared, what hope did I have?

But I nodded, swallowing my questions for now. If this was what he needed, if this was what would keep him from falling apart, then I would do it. I would learn to fight alongside him, to be as strong as he was.

"Okay," I said softly "We'll start tomorrow."

Jungkook nodded, relief flashing briefly in his eyes before he looked away, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. "Good," he murmured. "We'll start early."

__

The next morning, at an ungodly hour of 4 a.m., I was shaken out of my bed violently. I groaned, my body heavy with sleep, resisting the pull—none other than Jungkook.

"It's not even sunrise!" I exclaimed, my voice slurred with exhaustion as I stumbled after him, barely keeping my balance.

"We need to be done by six," Jungkook told him, resolute, unwavering. "This police force shooting ground has tight security, and with me and Jimin making sure everything is in place, it is the safest spot to do this. So don't complain." He tossed me a pair of gloves, whereupon I was supposed to catch them—but I was barely awake enough to know what they were.

"You don't have your own shooting range?" I grumbled, growing irritated as I fumbled with the gloves.

"Jeon Moon—" he began his voice firm, using that name that grated on my nerves.

"Don't fucking call me that!" I exploded, cutting him off with a flash of anger. The anger washed through me, but by now I was tired and sleep-deprived enough to be more frustrated than angry.

He paused for a second, and then the glint in his eye softened a little. Barely keeping the smile at the corner of his lips, he said, "My love, will you please put on your gloves correctly?

That tenderness in his voice was so not expected. My annoyance faltered, and I rolled my eyes but complied. "Fine, but only because it's freezing," I muttered, slipping my hands into the gloves. The cold morning air nipped at my skin.

Jungkook viewed me with a half-amused, half-something-else expression—softer, protectiveness. He yanked down the gloves on my hands to fit them right and snug, touching a little longer than necessary.

"There," he said softly, his eyes meeting mine. "Ready?"

Half asleep, I nodded, not so much opposed anymore. His seriousness, his concern, was hard to ignore. Though I really had no idea what had brought on this sudden need for self-defense training, I could see that it was important to him.

As we walked toward the shooting range in the still very early morning, shrouded in darkness, I couldn't help but feel this weird mix of emotions—annoyance, yeah, but a deep sense of trust, too. Jungkook was dragging me out of bed at a really stupid hour, but he was doing it because he wanted me to be safe. Because he cared.

And much as I hated to admit it, I couldn't quarrel with that.

Jungkook pulled me to the center of the range, the cold concrete beneath my feet low even through my shoes.

He gave me the gun; his face was so serious. "First, we'll start with the basics. I'll show you how to hold it properly.

I took the gun in my hands hesitantly, feeling its weight. The coldness of the metal was foreign, and a shiver ran down my back, even though it was from the cold, not so much the fact of the matter. It was all so new to me.

"Here," Jungkook said, stepping closer, his voice low and calm. He moved in behind me so close that his chest brushed my back and carried on pressing behind my back, over my hands, to guide my grip on the gun. His body was warm, radiating heat in the chilly air, and I could feel the strength in his arms as he adjusted my hold.

"Just relax," he whispered, his breath warm to my ear and causing a shiver to run down my spine. "You need to be steady but not too tensed."

I swallowed hard, my heart beginning to race for reasons that had nothing to do with the gun in my hands. Being this close to him, feeling his presence so intensely, made it hard to focus. His hands were firm, yet gentle corrections on my stance. His fingers brushed against mine in a way that seemed to send a spark of electricity through me.

"Like this," he went on, his voice now low, nearly whispering. His breath raised goosebumps on my neck, and I felt myself easing backward just a bit, instinctively wanting to share some of that warmth. My breath caught as I felt the hard press of his chest against my back; I could hardly stand the closeness that kept building between us.

"Do you feel it now?" he asked, his voice low and husky, walking me through the moves. Never once did his hands leave mine, touching with care almost reverently, like he knew the effect it was having on me. I was; I could feel every nerve in my body acutely aware of him, of the way his hands held mine, of the way his breaths fanned across my skin.

"Y-yeah," I stammered, trying not to really think about it but increasingly finding that hard. My heart pounded in my chest, and I couldn't tell whether it was from the unfamiliarity of the gun or the pure intensity of being so close to Jungkook.

He leaned closer, his lips grazing my ear as he spoke again. "Good. Now, take a deep breath and aim."

Yes, I did, now breathing deeply, but my passing steady rhythm of breath was breaking with just the fact that he was so close—the scent of him, the warmth, the way his body seemed to mold perfectly against mine. My hands shook slightly, and he tightened his grip over mine, steadying me.

"Focus," he whispered again, although I could feel the edge in his tone—the way it almost sounded strained, like he had some flimsy veil over barely restrained emotions. The tension between us was palpable, and we both knew it. More than training, it was that—closeness, undeniable pull that neither of us could ignore.

I inched out a long breath, letting it calm my racing heart, and I pointed the gun exactly as instructed. Now, when he had his hands over mine, having them there made it not feel so heavy, and I tried to channel all focus into what was directly in front of me.

"Whenever you're ready," Jungkook had answered, his voice still soft but harboring an edge of tension: restraint underneath, as if he was keeping something back that he didn't want to let out.

I squeezed off the shot with that final breath. The gun went off and in the quiet of the morning the shot sounded loud—the recoil punched through my arms but Jungkook's hold was steady with me. My bullet hit the target, though not center-mass, and I still felt a small sense of accomplishment.

"Not bad," Jungkook murmured, his voice closer to my ear than it was before. He hadn't moved away, hadn't let me go, and I could tell by the feel that he was staring at me full-on; I just couldn't see his face. "You're a fast learner."

I made a small turn in my head, just a fraction of a turn to see him in the corner of my vision. He was too intent, too focused on me, his eyes locked onto mine, and once more in that tiny instant, everything else was forgotten. The gun, the range, early morning cold, it all went away except for the two of us, standing so close I could feel his heartbeat at my back, feel the heat between us rising.

"Oh, thank you," I stumbled to reply; my voice came out barely above a whisper.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then, the tension between us was thick, electric, and I could feel the pull to turn around, to face him fully, to close the distance between us. But before coming to act on that impulse, Jungkook at last released his grip and stepped back, his hands lingering on mine for just a second longer.

"Let's do that once more," he said, his voice this time slightly rough, as if it had taken him aback. He stepped back a little shorter than before, putting no more space between us, and I saw this flicker in his eyes, something both intense and something he was not ready to acknowledge about himself.

I nodded, trying to steady my breath again and focus on what I was doing, but it was hard to disregard the lingering heat in my body from where he had pressed against me. Hard to ignore the way my heart still pounded in my chest, echoing the rhythm of something unspoken between us.

"Jungkook what I got myself killed?"