A soft knock on his door.

He buried his face deeper into the fluffy white pillow.

"Jungkookie?" came a soft voice, "I'm coming in."

The lock clicked.

The door swung inwards.

Jungkook didn't lift his head from where it was hidden. He felt the bed dip beside him. He held his breath, and screwed his eyes shut.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," came Namjoon's voice.

Sorry...

That pulled Jungkook back to the scene that unfolded almost two hours ago. Being in the industry since he was thirteen, it made Jungkook miss out on most things that people his age enjoyed. Partying out late, meeting your first love, exploring what love was.

Jungkook was a curious kid. He remembers the interview where they'd been asked a question, what would life have been like for them if not for BTS? A question that was stuck by him, nagged at him.

Jungkook was always known for being impulsive. He blamed his impulsiveness for that late night walk he took around the city streets without any bodyguard and without informing any of his hyungs.

That's when he met her.

A girl that didn't recognise him, yet offered him a seat beside her. They exchanged a couple of words and within minutes of being around her, Jungkook had grown fond of her. He hesitated, but when they exchanged names and she showed absolutely no sign of recognition for who he was, he gave her his phone number without a second thought.

From there a friendship bloomed between them, late night calls and texts, giggles and laughs. Pictures sent back and forth. Emojis shared a thousand words where his own failed.

He never had the courage to share any of it with his hyungs however, knowing they would be upset if he did.

It was his secret. She...she was his secret.

Late night walks, meeting up under the street lights, sitting by the waters and exchanging a kiss. Little sparks flew and Jungkook loved it. Loved how normal he felt in that moment. In that moment, he wasn't Jungkook of BTS. He was just...her Jungkook. A light blush crept up to his cheeks as he rested his cheek against her shoulder.

It was almost two months later that he realised he was in love. She became his comfort zone. When his hyungs got into constant arguments and their dorms became a war zone, he would slip out and find himself in her apartment, hugging her fluffy German shepherd as he made himself comfortable on her couch.

Her hands in his hair, her lips against his forehead.

Loved.

Comforted.

So in love.

He planned to get another tattoo for her. Her birth flower to add to the collection of tattoos on his arms. He broke the news to her, she teared up.

They exchanged a deeper kiss that night and the morning after, Jungkook found himself, chest bare, tangled up in her sheets. His cheeks were pink as she greeted him a "good morning." They remained pink as his eyes lingered on the thin, translucent material of her shirt, that prominently displayed her curves.

They remained the same shade as she slid in bed beside him and placed a soft kiss to his lips, her legs tangled up with his own. He drew in a soft breath, eyes closed as he embraced it all.

He was hers.

Her Jungkook.

Not the Jungkook of BTS right then.

And he embraced it.

Embraced it like there wasn't a tomorrow.

Maybe because fate knew there wasn't.

Maybe because fate had decided a year of betrayal was enough for Jungkook to deal with.

Fingers numb as he sees the headlines.

The glares of his hyungs are boring through his back.

Pictures of him leaked out. He feels his breath hitch. They're not just any pictures, but the most intimate ones of himself. The most intimate, vulnerable ones that he had displayed for the eyes of a single person, a person he had put his trust in.

Yet, there it was. Headlines in bold, mocking him. His vulnerability put into words, going against him. The inside stories that he trusted her with was all there. His reputation and that of his hyungs at stake.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't think.

He couldn't make sense of any of it.

"What the fuck is this, Jungkook?" it was Namjoon who broke the tense silence, "I thought we raised you to be more sensible than this but clearly you've been keeping things from us. There's a reason why we cannot just roam out freely as we wish to and while we have been doing just that, taking into consideration the band and everything we have been working to achieve, you have clearly shown us how much you care."

Jungkook tuned out. He could see their lips moving, could see the disappointment on their faces. Couldn't hear a word they spoke. There was static ringing in his ears.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. A loud gasp escaped him as he clutched his phone and began to dial with trembling fingers.

It rang. And rang.

Voicemail.

"No, no, no, no, no."

"Jungkook, you need—"

"Breathe, kook."

Ringing. Ringing. Ringing.

Voicemail.

A scream.

They jump.

Hands wrap around him.

He pushes them away.

"No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't. She can't. Please, please."

He hardly knows what he is pleading for. Hardly understands the words escaping him and then he runs.

Till he is at his door, till he is crashing to the floor, ugly sobs escaping him. He can hardly breathe, can hardly see. The pain is terrible, that's all he can feel.

He crumples to the bed.

That's how Namjoon finds him and hour later.

Defeated.

No more tears left to cry.

This was probably the smallest Namjoon has ever seen Jungkook appear.

"I'm so sorry," Namjoon mumbles as he cradles Jungkook to his chest.

The tears are back. The pain strikes harder than before. He chokes.

Namjoon only holds him tighter.