AFTER THE PROLOGUE

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Jungkook answered on the fourth.

“Hey, Jin,” Jungkook greeted, voice soft. Too soft. Like the calm after a detonation, when everything was still smoking and no one was sure what was left standing. It wasn’t the voice of someone who had just sent the kind of message that stopped your heart moments ago.

Seokjin went still, the rooftop wind pulling at his coat, his chest feeling tight with breath caught in his throat. The silence stretched for a moment before he snapped, his voice cutting and cold. “What the fuck do you mean your father is Park Seo Joon and that you almost killed him?” he said, fuming. Seokjin could barely recognize his voice—raw, too loud, spilling out in disbelief and fury and something dangerously close to fear.

He was doubled over, one hand braced on his knee, the other crushing his phone to his ear. His lungs burned. Maybe from the stairs. Maybe not. He’d taken them two at a time, fled his office like it was on fire, panic hollowing out his insides. The elevator felt too slow. Or maybe he’d felt too desperate.

And after everything, Jungkook had the fucking audacity to just say hello like nothing happened?

The world was spinning off its axis, and Seokjin couldn’t find his footing.

Jungkook hadn’t sounded like this—calm, detached—when he once told Seokjin, with glassy eyes and a half-laugh that didn’t quite reach his voice, “If I ever see him again, I won’t walk away without breaking something.” Seokjin had brushed it off at the time, laughing and pouring him another drink. He had changed the subject like a coward, because thinking about the alternative scared him, believing that Jungkook meant it.

But today, the words weren’t theory anymore. They were real. Ticking. Bleeding. Stamped across a text that read like a confession.

And Seokjin was terrified—not of Jungkook, but for him. The kind of fear that didn’t scream; it whispered. It played worst-case scenarios in your head like a highlight reel. What if he’d gone too far? What if there was no taking it back? Because Jungkook, even for all the quiet in his voice, had a history of letting silence come after impact. The past few days had already bent reality. Jungkook had disappeared without a word, chasing some shadow of his mother that he hadn’t dared name. And now he was back. With a text that read like a confession. With a voice too calm to be trusted.

A low, careless chuckle crackled through the line. Seokjin’s heart jolted, thudding harder against his ribs. His brow furrowed tightly.

“Calm down, Seokjin,” Jungkook said, like they were discussing the weather. “I didn’t do anything like what you’re thinking. Relax.”

Seokjin could hear the smile in his voice. That quiet, sharp kind of smile that never meant peace. His hand clenched around the phone.

“Then you don’t just text someone that you almost killed your father, especially not after finding out who he is,” Seokjin spoke through clenched teeth, barely holding it together.

Then, like the anger had drained out and left something worse behind, he asked softly, “What does that even mean, Jungkook? Almost?”

There was a pause, long and heavy.

On the other end of the line, Jungkook sighed—not loud, but deliberate, like he wanted it heard. The smirk Seokjin had imagined on his face was gone, scraped clean from his voice.

“It means I didn’t let the worst part of me win,” Jungkook said quietly. “Just one punch. Then I walked away.”

Seokjin’s shoulders eased. The knot between his brows relaxed as he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He closed his eyes. “Thank God,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jungkook.

But Jungkook heard it and didn’t let it pass. “What?” he said, a dry laugh curling at the edge of his words. “Did you actually think I killed him, Jin?”

Seokjin didn’t answer right away.

“I was afraid you might have,” he said after a while.

Another pause. Jungkook exhaled—not quite a sigh, more like something held in cracking loose.

“For a second, I wanted to,” he admitted. “I was right there on the edge. He said something, and I just… saw red. He was such a—” Jungkook faltered, caught between fury and restraint. “Wretch.”

The word landed hard. Heavy. Bitter. Like smoke in the back of the throat.

Seokjin nodded, even though Jungkook couldn’t see him. “I understand,” he said.

And he did. They weren’t bound by blood, but Seokjin had always seen him clearly—especially the parts Jungkook tried to bury: the rage, the ache, the fear of becoming something he couldn’t undo. Sometimes Seokjin saw it even before Jungkook did. So when Jungkook walked away, after the punch and all the years of wanting more, it wasn’t nothing. It was everything. It meant the past didn’t own him anymore.

Finally. After years of wrong turns, bruised pride, and hard truths, Jungkook was here. Right where Seokjin had always hoped he’d land. He knew Jungkook understood it now: life wasn’t just something to survive, or a series of crashes and climbs. It was his—to shape, to claim, to live. Literally, anything he wanted. As long as he didn’t ruin it.

Silence settled between them, quiet and understood. Their breathing filled the space where words might have belonged. Seokjin straightened up, brushing at his pants where the fabric had bunched at the knees. He walked to the edge of the rooftop, placed his hands on the railing, and leaned into the wind. Behind him, the call timer kept ticking upward. Still connected. Still listening.

“What are you planning to do now?” Seokjin asked.

“Nothing,” Jungkook said. “I mean, what’s left to do now? It’s not like anything I say can change what has already happened.”

Seokjin’s gaze drifted toward the city sprawled out beneath him—loud, restless, alive. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Maybe he’d been holding on too tightly. Maybe there was nothing left to worry about after all. Jungkook had changed. Really changed. And for the better.

“Right,” he murmured, drawing in a deep breath. When he let it out, it felt like his chest had finally loosened—like maybe he could float.

“I’m on my way back to Seoul,” Jungkook said, unprompted. “I’ll be there in a few hours.”

Seokjin smiled. “Good. Visit Aera first. She looked pretty upset when she left my office earlier.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue, a little ashamed. “I will.”

“Bring her some flowers,” Seokjin said. “It might help.”

“Okay.”

And then Jungkook ended the call.

Talking to Seokjin always untangled something in his chest, like invisible threads pulling tight and then loosening one by one. The unease that had been sitting in his ribs faded. Now, he just felt light. Jungkook went to slide his phone into his pocket, his gaze caught on the lockscreen. It was a photo Taehyung had taken of Aera, from what felt like a lifetime ago.

He remembered the day instantly. She’d been sick—pale, sniffly, refusing to admit it. He’d told her to go home, but she’d stayed, stubborn as ever. At one point, just to avoid sitting near him, she wandered across the room to joke around with Taehyung instead.

A small smile curved his lips, eyes softening.

She looked ridiculous. Swaddled in layers of oversized clothing, her eyes scrunched up as she threw a lazy peace sign at the camera.

Cute, Jungkook thought.

His gaze drifted higher. In the corner of the frame, there he was, looking at her. Not at the lens. Just her. He hadn’t realized it showed back then. But now, it couldn’t be more obvious. He’d been falling from the very beginning. No wonder Taehyung had caught on so quickly to the way Jungkook looked at Aera. He’d teased him about it, of course. Held up this photo with a smug grin and, after enough convincing, handed it over. But not without a condition.

“Make her happy,” he’d said. “You owe that much to your bestie.”

To Jungkook, Taehyung had always been a bit of a hurricane—loud, unpredictable, never serious for longer than a few seconds. He joked too much. Pushed boundaries. Laughed at the worst moments. But underneath all that noise was someone who loved quietly, fiercely, and in ways only those who looked closely could see.

And Jungkook had seen it. Taehyung hadn’t said the words lightly, and Jungkook didn’t take them lightly either. He would keep the promise; make Aera happy because she deserved it. He drew in a slow breath, thumb grazing the edge of his phone before locking the screen and leaning back into his seat.

Jungkook arrived back in Seoul late in the afternoon. Before heading home, he made a detour to a small flower shop tucked between cafés—just like Seokjin had told him to. But standing among rows of carefully arranged blooms, he looked completely lost. He moved from one bouquet to the next, brows drawn, lips pressed in thought. His fingers hovered, never quite touching anything. It was clear he didn’t know what he was looking for—only that it had to mean something.

From behind the counter, the shopkeeper watched with a faint smile.

“Looking for flowers for someone special?” the man asked gently.

Jungkook turned at the voice, blinking as if pulled from his thoughts. His wide eyes landed on the older man, then softened. “Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “It’s for my girlfriend.” The word felt unfamiliar on his tongue—new, but right. His ears flushed pink. “She’s a little upset with me,” he added. “I want to make it up to her.”

The shopkeeper chuckled, stepping out from behind the counter with an understanding smile.

“Well,” he said, motioning toward the nearby blooms, “let’s find something that says exactly that.”

Jungkook’s lips pulled into a small, hopeful smile as he followed the shopkeeper, feeling grateful.

“How long have you two been together?” the man asked over his shoulder.

Jungkook paused mid-step, then turned slightly, blinking. “Uh… not long,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “We just started dating, but we’ve known each other for a while.”

The shopkeeper chuckled, eyes crinkling. “And you’ve already upset her?”

Jungkook gave a sheepish laugh. “Yeah. Not my proudest moment.”

“Be careful then,” the man said, patting his shoulder. “Let it happen too often, and it becomes a habit.”

Jungkook nodded, another smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The shopkeeper hummed in quiet acknowledgment, moving with practiced ease as he guided Jungkook through the rows of blooms. This wasn’t just about choosing something pretty—he was helping him find something that spoke, something honest. He gathered a cluster of white lilac from one bucket, then moved on to pink tulips and bold red camellias. Finally, he tucked a sprig of ivy, green and winding, into the curve of the bouquet.

Jungkook didn’t know much about flowers, but under the shopkeeper’s steady hand, he began to understand. Each bloom held meaning—new love, deep love, and a promise to stay through whatever came. It felt like the flowers were speaking for him—everything he wanted to say but couldn’t quite put into words. Wrapped in paper and tied with string, they carried every feeling he had for Aera: quiet, honest, undeniable. He hoped she’d see the truth in them; every word he couldn’t say laid bare in petals and stems.

“There you go,” the shopkeeper said, handing the bouquet to Jungkook.

Jungkook took it with both hands, careful not to crush the paper wrap, then tucked it gently into the crook of his arm to free one hand. Pulling out his wallet, he passed over a few ₩10,000 bills.

“Good luck,” the man said softly as he handed back the change.

Jungkook bowed. “Thank you.”

By the time he got home, it was close to six. He took a quick shower, threw on a clean shirt, and ran a towel through his hair. He hadn’t eaten all day—too caught up in everything that had followed after facing Seo Joon. But food could wait. He needed to see Aera first. His heart hadn’t eased since the moment he walked away from her. Even now, the weight of that goodbye pressed on him and refused to let go. The memory of her right there beside him the last time he was home kept returning in quiet flashes.

And with it came the ache, a slow, steady pull to be near her again.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He took the bouquet in hand and travelled his way to her place in a heartbeat.

Aera hadn’t expected much after her conversation with Seokjin that morning. Her hopes were low, her mood lower, and the thought of seeing Jungkook again (whenever that might be) felt distant and uncertain. So when she opened the door expecting the delivery guy from her favourite restaurant, and found Jungkook standing there instead… she froze.

It was strange. Unexpected. And for a moment, she wasn’t even sure how to feel. Their eyes locked in a silent stare, the air thick with everything left unsaid. Jungkook shifted on his feet, and that’s when Aera noticed the bouquet in his hands.

“Hi,” he whispered.

For a moment, she seriously considered beating him with the flowers he brought. After leaving her a ridiculous note telling her not to wait—without saying for how long—and then disappearing for days, all he had to say was hi?

Her hand tightened on the door handle.

She breathed through her nose, jaw clenched and fist half a second away from slamming the door in his face.

But she held back. She forced herself to inhale, exhale once, and open the door wider.

“Explain,” Aera said firmly. She was giving him exactly one chance to fix this.

“I—I’m...” Jungkook stammered, the apology caught somewhere between his nerves and the sight of her. Arms crossed, eyes lit with fire, standing there in a mismatched tank top and her favourite Pikachu pajama pants—Aera looked adorably furious. Not to mention the bit of skin peeking out, the kind he wanted to apologize with kisses instead of words.

Right. He needed to apologize. Focus on that, Jungkook.

“I’m sorry for disappearing like that,” he said, offering her the bouquet. “Something came up, and I didn’t handle it the right way. You deserved better. I should’ve said something.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry, princess. Will you forgive me?”

Aera’s gaze lifted from the bouquet to his face, his marble eyes full of quiet sincerity, then back to the flowers. She bit her lip. She knew what each bloom meant. Maybe Jungkook really was sorry. Gradually, she uncrossed her arms and gently took the bouquet from his hands. Jungkook exhaled a quiet breath of relief, his smile returning as he watched her lean in, eyes softening as she breathed in the scent of the flowers.

“So… are we good?” Jungkook asked, pressing his palms together like a prayer.

Aera narrowed her eyes at him in mock warning, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward.

“For now.”

He grinned. “I’ll take it.”

With a step forward, he reached a hand behind her head and pulled her in, his smile still lingering as his lips met hers in a kiss.

“Mhm,” Jungkook hummed into the kiss, angling his head as his mouth parted, deepening the kiss with a tenderness that made his chest warm. “Missed you,” he breathed against her lips.

Aera answered with a gentle hum, tilting her face up to meet him. His other arm slipped around her waist, pulling her close until there was no space left between them. Well, except for the bouquet lodged between their bodies, its petals brushing irritatingly against the nape of their necks.

Jungkook didn’t mind, too absorbed in the softness of her lips. But Aera did. She might have forgiven him for now, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still annoyed. He’d left her waiting, worrying, and wondering. A sweet apology didn’t erase that.

At least, not yet.

She broke the kiss and gave him a firm poke in the chest with her finger.

Jungkook let out a soft grunt of protest, the sound rumbling low from his chest, as if to say, What? Why stop? His brows pulled together, lips still parted and slightly wet with confusion.

She stepped back, and he followed her inside without a word. He shut the door behind them, then leaned in again, hoping to reconnect. But Aera moved just out of reach.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook whined, reaching for Aera as she giggled and turned away, clutching the bouquet to her chest. She walked off, placed the flowers in a vase, and carried them into the living room.

Jungkook followed without hesitation. 

When she set the vase down, he stepped in close, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her gently in place. Aera braced her hands against his torso, keeping him just far enough to avoid a kiss, but kept their noses just slightly brushing.

“What?” Jungkook smirked. “Don’t want me to make it up to you by making out?” He pulled her tighter, closing the space between them entirely.

“I do,” Aera said, holding his gaze. “But you still owe me an explanation. I’m not letting you off that easily.” She arched a brow, daring him to wriggle out of it.

“Right… I almost forgot.” Jungkook groaned softly and leaned his forehead against hers.

He took a moment to steady himself. Where was he supposed to start? The past few days had been a storm of emotions: hard truths, sharp turns, choices that still sat heavy in his chest. How could he explain all of it in a few simple words? He couldn’t lay everything out at once—it would be too much. For her. For him. He bit down on his lower lip, just enough to ground himself.

He inhaled slowly—then came the quiet decision: he’d tell her the truth. No excuses. No dressing it up. Just the honest version of what happened. Aera stood still, watching him, patient and silent. Finally, Jungkook looked up and met her eyes.

“When you brought up Yoonah Auntie that night… I realized I’d completely forgotten about her,” he said, his voice low. “She hadn’t crossed my mind in years. And suddenly, I just—I needed to see her. So I left. I didn’t think it through.”

Aera blinked, surprised. That wasn’t the explanation she’d expected.

Jungkook hesitated, his lips parting as if to continue, but the words caught.

“But?” she asked gently, tilting her head, her brow drawn in curiosity.

Jungkook exhaled, the weight of the past few days pressing down on him.

“Can you give me some time?” he asked quietly. “Everything’s still... a lot. I don’t think I can talk about it right now, princess.” He looked at her, eyes steady but tired. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. Just not now.”

Aera didn’t hesitate. She gave a small nod and ran her hands lightly over his shoulders. “That’s okay,” she assured him. “Take your time.” Then she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him.

In her embrace, Jungkook’s breath came easier. With Aera by his side, he felt like he could face anything.