Please ignore mistakes

Third person pov-

"I wanna li-li-li-lick you from your head to your toes,
And I wanna move from the bed down to the, down to the, to the flo'.
Then I wanna-ahh, ahh-you make it so good I don't wanna leave,
But I gotta kn-kn-kn-know, what-what's your fan-ta-ta-sy?"

The sultry lyrics of "What's Your Fantasy" pulsed through the car speakers.

You sat rigid in the passenger seat, your body angled slightly toward the window, pretending to be engrossed in the blur of passing streetlights. But it was impossible to ignore him-Jungkook, with one hand gripping the wheel and the other resting casually on the gear shift. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing veined forearms and inked skin that flexed with every subtle movement.

The tension from the kiss earlier still lingered, a weight in the air.. And now, this song-the sultry beat and shameless lyrics-only made it worse.

"Turn it off," you said, your voice cutting through the music like a blade.

Jungkook's gaze flicked to you, a slow, deliberate motion that made your pulse stutter. The corner of his mouth curved upward, his smirk dripping with mischief. "Why? Don't tell me it's getting to you."

That shameless bastard.

If he weren't driving, you swore you would've punch his handsome face and make it ugly.

You glared at him, fighting the heat that rose to your cheeks. "Not everyone shares your lack of shame. It's making me uncomfortable"

His laugh was low and mocking as he turned the music off with a casual flick of his fingers. "Whatever you say, princess."

"I swear to God, I'm regretting making that stupid deal with you," you muttered under your breath. "It's only been two days, and I'm already done dealing with you. God knows how the rest of the month will go."

"Get used to it, Y/N," he replied, his gaze fixed back on the road. "You're going to deal with me for the rest of your life."

You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore the comment. "Did you find anything on the guy in the video?" you asked, steering the conversation to safer ground.

His eyes stayed fixed on the road, his jaw ticking slightly. "Not yet," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "But I did some digging on the girl. Emily."

"And what did you find?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

"Her name isn't Emily," he said flatly.

"What do you mean?" Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"She's living here, in the city. Enrolled in a school, but under a false identity," he said, his voice measured. "When I ran her background, there was nothing. No records, no details. Just a name scribbled on file. Not even a photo."

"How does someone get into a school without proper documentation?" you asked, frowning.

"It was principal," he replied casting a quick glance at his knuckles, bruised and raw. "Turns out, he was paid off-a hefty sum. Enough to make him look the other way."

"She hasn't been to school either," you murmured, your thoughts pulling you back. "Not since that day in the university storage room. I haven't seen her anywhere."

His eyes flicked to you, dark and assessing, before snapping back to the road. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, veins visible beneath his inked skin. "She's not avoiding school by accident," he said, his tone cutting through the stillness. "She's staying out of sight deliberately."

_________________

Releasing a heavy sigh, you tossed your bag onto the couch and collapsed onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath your weight, and the tension in your shoulders began to ease as you buried your face into the cool fabric of the pillow. A muffled groan escaped your lips, the exhaustion of a long, grueling day finally catching up to you.

"Tell me, princess, do you feel disgusted when I touch you... when I kiss you?"

His voice-low, taunting echoed in your mind. Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as the scene replayed with startling clarity. Heat crept up your neck, pooling in your cheeks as the memory of Jungkook's mouth on yours resurfaced.

Your hand hesitated before pressing lightly against your lips, the phantom sensation lingering there like an imprint burned into your skin.

His hands gripping your waist.
His lips moving against yours with passion.

On top of that, he's a damn good kisser.

The intrusive thoughts shattered your composure, and your eyes snapped open, wide with disbelief at your own mind's betrayal. A flush crept higher, painting your face in shades of embarrassment.

"You've totally lost it, Lee Y/N," you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled. "It's barely been two days, and he's already messing with your head. How could you even think something like that?"

''I want to consume your thoughts until I'm the only thing haunting your mind.I want your every breath to carry the weight of me, your every dream painted in my colors.I want to own a place in your soul so deep that forgetting me becomes impossible."

His words echoed in your mind again, relentless and inescapable. He was proving himself right. Your thoughts were consumed by him, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't control it. And that was exactly what that crazy bastard wanted.

From your childhood to now, so many things had changed. Back then, he was your soulmate-the one person you couldn't imagine spending a single day without. You both used to boast that you'd get married once you were adults, but that was just childish nonsense.

Wasn't it?

Your mind drifted to the day you first met him-the day you saved his life when he was teetering on the brink of death.

FLASHBACK-

The five-year-old you stood in front of your father, watching as he chugged down his bottle of alcohol. He grunted and slammed the empty glass bottle onto the table with a loud thud. His bloodshot eyes glared into nothingness, and the heavy stench of alcohol clung to him like a second skin.

You scrunched your tiny nose at the foul smell.

It was already the sixth bottle he'd drowned since morning, and the sun had barely begun to set. You had no idea how many more he would go through before the night ended, but one thing was certain-he wouldn't stop until he passed out cold on the floor.

"Appa, I'm hungry. I haven't eaten anything since morning."

You clutched your small stomach with trembling hands, wincing slightly at the sharp pangs of hunger. This wasn't new to you. At least last night, you'd had something to eat, thanks to your mother, who worked tirelessly to put food on the table. On other days, you'd simply cry yourself to sleep on an empty stomach.

Right now, she was at work, and that gave you a glimmer of hope. She had mentioned her employer was supposed to pay her today, so maybe tonight you would finally have a meal. But even that wasn't certain.

Because every time your mother earned money-money she worked herself to the bone for-your father would snatch it from her, leaving bruises and cuts in his wake. He would beat her until her frail body crumpled to the floor, bloody and trembling. Whenever you tried to intervene, he would turn his wrath on you. But your mother always shielded you, using her body to absorb the blows meant for you.

She was your savior, your everything. And yet, all you could do was press ointment on her bruises after he passed out, whispering apologies into the quiet of the night. But tonight, even the ointment had run out. If he hit her again, there would be nothing to soothe her pain.

Your father's bleary eyes lifted to meet yours, barely able to stay open. You glared back, your tiny face set in a defiant scowl that carried the weight of every ounce of hatred you felt for the man in front of you.

"WHat diD you sAy?" he slurred, one eye half-open, the other shut tight. His breath reeked so badly you nearly gagged.

Sometimes you wondered why your mother had married him in the first place. Thanks to his drinking, you were trapped in this rotting slum, surrounded by filth and hopelessness.

But every time you asked her, her answer remained the same: "He wasn't always like this."

You'd begged her more than once to leave him-to run far away so the two of you could start over. But it wasn't that simple. Your mother didn't have enough money to buy even a single bus ticket, let alone two. Every penny she earned ended up in your father's hands, and if she ever tried to hide it, he'd beat her for hours until she gave in.

"I'm hungry," you said again, your voice breaking slightly.

Your father scoffed, his entire body trembling from the poison running through his veins. "I dOn't have Any moNey."

"But you had enough money to buy this foul-smelling liquid," you said, pointing to the bottles scattered across the floor.

His head snapped up, anger flickering in his unfocused eyes. "DOn't yoU daRe taLk bAck to me, you litTle brat! Do you waNt to die, huh?"

The threat came out weak, his tongue heavy and clumsy from the alcohol. "WHy doN't you go bEg, thEn? Maybe someone will throw you a coin out of pity. And don't forget to bring that money straight back to me."

Your blood boiled at his words. How could someone tell their own child to beg on the streets? You'd seen fathers who would sacrifice everything for their children, who would shield them from the cruelties of the world and love them endlessly.

Why couldn't God give you a father like that?

Your mother always said that God doesn't like bad people-that He sends them to hell as punishment for their sins. And if your father's actions were anything to go by, his place in hell was already reserved.

Every time you saw your mother's bruised and bloodied body, you'd silently pray for that day to come sooner.

Consumed by fury, you grabbed the nearly full bottle sitting on the table beside him. With a swift motion, you smashed it against the floor. The glass shattered into countless jagged pieces, and the foul liquid spread across the wooden planks.

Your father's eyes went wide with rage. "You fucking brat! How dare you do that!" he roared before dropping to his knees.

To your horror and disgust, he pressed his face to the floor and began licking the spilled alcohol, glass shards digging into his skin.

"I'll kill yOu todAy!" he bellowed, attempting to stand, his wobbly legs struggling to hold him upright.

But before he could reach you, you bolted towards the front door, your tiny feet carrying you as fast as they could. His slurred curses followed close behind.

"CoMe back here, you little piEce of shit! Stop right there! You'll regret this when I catch you!"

"Like hell I would!" you shouted back over your shoulder. "You won't even remember this when you sober up!"

You stuck your tongue out at him before dashing away, his enraged shouts fading into the distance.

When you were far enough from the house, your pace slowed, and you let out a breathless laugh. "That old dalcodolic prick," you muttered to yourself, placing both hands behind your head as you walked casually down the dirt path. "He thinks he can catch me? I'm faster than an airplane!"

"He's going to pass out soon. But what should I do until that monster falls asleep? I can't go back home," you muttered, pouting as you shoved your hands into your pockets. Something jingled against your fingers. Frowning, you pulled it out and found a few coins resting in your palm.

Your eyes lit up. "Oh yeah! Mom gave me these last night. She said if I ever got hungry, I could buy something to eat."

A spark of hope flickered in your chest as you clutched the coins tightly against your heart. "Yayyyyyy! I'm gonna buy milk and some sweet bread!" you started jumping in excitement.

With a newfound bounce in your step, you skipped down the road toward the small shop in the distance.

After carefully choosing what you needed and paying with your precious coins, you walked away with a small bag in your hands, your stomach growling in anticipation. You skipped and hopped along the quiet path, humming to yourself.

Thud.

You jumped at the sudden sound, your small feet halting mid-step as your wide eyes darted towards its source. It came from a house surrounded by towering walls, casting ominous shadows against the evening sky.

Shaking your head, you decided to ignore it and continued on your way. The thought of sweet bread and milk made your stomach growl, and your mood brightened at the promise of finally satisfying your hunger.

But then you heard it-a groan.

It was faint, muffled, yet filled with unmistakable pain. Another groan followed, then another.

Curiosity pricked at your little mind, and despite the warning bells ringing in your head, your feet carried you towards the house's front gate. You pushed it gently, frowning when it creaked open with ease.

Stepping onto the lawn, you glanced around cautiously. "This place feels super dangerous," you muttered under your breath, your tiny lips forming a pout.

The occasional soft groans grew louder as you followed the sound. It was coming from a small storage shed beside the main house. The door was latched shut, and the eerie stillness surrounding it made your stomach twist.

You knew you shouldn't invade someone's space, but your curious mind had already taken control.

"Is there something inside?" you whispered to yourself.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you walked up to the storage door and knocked softly. "Hello?"

The only reply was another groan, weaker this time.

Biting your lower lip, you glanced around. Deciding there was no turning back now, you gripped the latch with your small hands and began pulling at it. It was stubborn, but with sheer determination, you managed to unlatch the door.

As soon as it creaked open, you froze.

Your eyes went wide, and a startled scream escaped your lips as you stumbled back, dropping the bread and milk at the sight of something lying on the floor just beyond the doorway. Panic coursed through you as your small hands flew up to cover your face.

Had you just unleashed a ghost from the storage room? Was it going to eat you?

"Please... I'm sorry! Don't eat me! I'm not even tasty, and I'm small too. You won't even get full!" you stammered in one breath, your voice trembling.

When nothing happened after a few moments, you frowned, peeking through your fingers. Maybe the ghost really didn't find you appetizing and had left. Gathering your courage, you parted your fingers slightly to get a better look.

But it wasn't a ghost.

Cautiously, you lowered your hands from your face and took in the scene. Lying curled up on the floor, just beyond the doorway, was a boy. His body was hunched over, and his face was hidden in his hands as he let out soft, pained groans.

Your eyes widened in shock. You quickly rushed to his side, kneeling down. He looked a little older than you-maybe two or three years.

"He's not dead, is he? Why is he locked up in a place like this?" you muttered to yourself, heart pounding.

Your brows knitted together as you knelt beside him, your small fingers hesitating before shaking his arm gently.

"Hey, are you okay?" you asked, When he didn't respond, you realized he was trembling.

You shook his arm again. "Hello? Are you sick or something? Look at me for a second. Are you... are you dead?" you asked innocently, poking his arm with your tiny finger.

When he still didn't respond, you bit your lip and gathered every ounce of strength you had to flip him onto his back.

You gasped.

The boy was beaten.

Badly beaten.

His face was a mess of cuts and bruises, fresh blood mixing with dried streaks across his cheeks and lips. His hands and legs were littered with bruises-some old and faded, others fresh and angry-looking. Tears streamed from his closed eyes as he panted heavily for breath. His entire body trembled like a dried leaf, and a white foam-like substance was visible near his mouth.

He wasn't okay. Not at all.

"Oh no, what should I do?" you mumbled, panicked. "Help!" you shouted, hoping someone-anyone-would hear and come to assist. "Is someone here? Please, help me!"

"Help! Someone help!" you screamed, sprinting outside the gate and scanning the deserted street. But there was no one-no adult, no passerby, no one to help.

Frustrated and scared, you rushed back inside. Kneeling next to the trembling boy, you clutched his thin arms.

"Hey! I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? Just hold on!" you promised, determination shining in your eyes.

You heaved with all your might, trying to pull him into a sitting position, but he was too heavy for your small frame. You stumbled backward, and his head landed on your tiny chest as you both collapsed onto the cold flooron your butt.

"Uwaaa! What should I do? It's not working!" you wailed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

That's when you noticed it-he was shaking way too much. Tremors wracked his frail body, and his lips quivered as though he was stuck in a nightmare.

"Why is he shaking so much? Is he... scared?" you mumbled to yourself.

Your mind flashed back to the nights when you would cry in fear, and your mother would pull you into her warm embrace. She would rock you gently, whispering sweet reassurances into your ear until your tears dried and your fears faded away.

Maybe... just maybe, it would work for him too.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your small arms around the trembling boy and pulled him against your chest. Leaning close to his ear, you began whispering softly:

"It's okay... you're safe. It's okay... it's okay... it's okay... you're safe. Calm down... it's okay..."

You rocked him back and forth gently, repeating the words like a mantra, your soft voice barely audible.

Slowly, you felt the boy's trembling body begin to calm. His erratic panting softened, his ragged breaths smoothing into steady inhales and exhales.

It was working.

Tightening your arms around him, you continued to murmur soft reassurances into his ear. "It's okay... it's okay... you're safe now."

What felt like hours might have only been minutes, but eventually, you felt a faint shift in his body. Glancing down, you realized his eyes had opened.

"Hey... are you okay?" you asked softly, your voice carrying both relief and worry.

The boy blinked up at you, his wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I... I'm fine," he mumbled, his voice weak and fragile, barely above a whisper.

"Who are you? How did you end up here?" you asked cautiously, immediately regretting your words as you felt his body tense beneath your arms.

"Hey, hey... it's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, alright?" you said quickly, offering him a gentle smile.

He nodded slowly, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"You're bleeding. You need help," you said, concern flooding your voice. "There's no one out there, but I know how to apply medicine. Do you know where the first aid kit is?"

"In... the main house," he whispered, his voice so faint you had to lean closer to hear him.

"Okay, I'm gonna go get it. Stay here, and don't move, alright?" You stood up to leave, but his frail hand shot out, grabbing yours tightly.

"Don't go," he said, his voice trembling, his tear-filled eyes locking onto yours with a desperate plea.

You knelt back down, brushing your free hand over his tangled hair. "I'll be right back, I promise. Just a few minutes, okay?"

Hesitantly, he released your hand, and you quickly stood up and dashed toward the house.

The front door creaked open easily-too easily. Just like the gate, it had been left unlocked. Pushing the thought aside, you focused on your task, scanning every corner in search of the first aid kit.

After a few frantic minutes, you finally spotted it on a kitchen counter. Grabbing it tightly, you rushed back to the small storage room.

The boy was still there, curled into himself like a fragile paper crane, his head resting on his bruised knees.

You knelt beside him again, setting down the kit and pulling out the supplies you needed.

"It's gonna hurt a little, okay? But I promise it'll feel better soon."

He nodded weakly, squeezing his eyes shut as you carefully began cleaning his wounds with your tiny hands. You had done this for your mother countless times before, so it wasn't difficult for you or you would've freaking out.

First, you cleaned the cuts, wiping away the dried blood. Then, you applied ointment, your touch feather-light. Finally, you bandaged the worst of the wounds with care, making sure everything was secure.

When you finished, a faint growl echoed in the quiet room.

You glanced up and saw the boy staring down at his stomach, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Are you hungry?" you asked softly.

He didn't respond, but his silence was answer enough. You glanced around and spotted the sweet bread and milk you had dropped earlier. They were packaged so still good enough to eat.

"Here, you can have this," you said, offering them to him not caring about your own hunger.

He hesitated, his wide eyes darting between the food and your face, before finally reaching out with trembling hands. Slowly, he began eating, small bites at first, then quicker as hunger overtook his hesitation.

You watched him quietly.

Outside, the sky had darkened, shadows stretching long across the lawn.

"It's getting late," you mumbled, your tiny lips forming a pout as you glanced out the open storage door.

Suddenly, you felt two small hands clutch your arm tightly. Startled, you turned to see the boy gripping you with a pleading expression.

"Don't go," he whispered, his voice trembling. His wide eyes were filled with fear, and his body still shook slightly. He was on the verge of panicking again.

Your heart softened at his desperate gaze. "Okay, I'm not going anywhere. Relax, I'll stay right here," you said soothingly.

Wrapping your arms around him once more, you gently rocked him back and forth, trying to calm him. After a moment, you noticed his body growing heavier against you. Glancing down, you realized the boy had fallen asleep in your arms.

Seeing someone sleep so soundly, especially when just moments ago he had been gasping for breath, made your chest tighten. A strange, heavy sensation settled in your throat-something you had never felt before.

After saving him that day, you encountered him many times. You eventually learned his name was Jungkook.

He was a very shy and quiet boy, often sitting silently with his knees hugged to his chest. Because of his reserved nature and innocent features, he became an easy target for bullies. The other kids would laugh at him, taunt him, and even hit him, but he never stood up for himself. He endured every insult and beating without uttering a word, which frustrated you even more.

You couldn't even count the number of times you had to step in to save him from bullies, kicking their asses in the process. Consumed by rage one day, you told him, "If you can't stand up for yourself, then I don't even want to see you!" you can never forget the way his eyes widened in horror at you statement. It seemed like he was about to cry. You lectured him for hours about it, hoping your words would spark a change.

At that time, you two weren't very close-it had only been five or ten days since you'd first saved him from the storage room. If you wanted, you could've left him to fend for himself against the bullies. But something inside you just wouldn't allow it.

The next day, while you were hanging out, your eyes fell on yet another scene of kids bullying Jungkook. One of them pushed him, making him fall hard onto his side. Disappointment surged through you-despite your lecture, he was still not fighting back for himself.

"Hey, watch this! I'll kick him in the face, and he still won't do anything!" one boy bragged to his friends, who cheered him on. As he raised his foot to strike, you rushed toward them, ready to intervene. But then your steps halted.

Jungkook grabbed the boy's leg mid-air and yanked it, causing him to fall backward with a groan. Your eyes widened as Jungkook's expression darkened. He quickly sat up, grabbed a nearby stone, and seized the boy's arm. He was about to bash the stone onto the boy's head when the bully screamed and cowered in fear.

Before Jungkook could swing, you caught his hand. "That's enough. You did great," you said, snatching the stone from him. "Let me handle this now." You tossed the stone away and ruffled his hair. His innocent demeanor returned instantly, his aura from moments ago dissipating at the sight of you.

The fallen boy scrambled to his feet and pointed at Jungkook. "You-you're crazy! I'm telling my mom!"

"Oh, yeah?" you scoffed, placing your tiny hands on your hips. You leaned closer and whispered into his ear, "Go ahead, tell her. But then I'll tell everyone you wet your bed every night. Do you want your friends to laugh at you?"

The boy's eyes widened in shock as he stared at you. "Don't look so surprised. I overheard your mom talking about it the other day. Imagine if your friends found out-you'd be the laughingstock of the year. So think carefully before you do anything stupid, thickhead." You grinned as you spoke.

"I... I'll make you regret this! mammmaaa....." he stammered before turning around and running away, crying, with his friends following close behind.

You sighed, your gaze falling on little Jungkook, who stood fidgeting nervously with his fingers.

"Hey, you... you shouldn't hit someone with something like that," you said in a calm but firm tone. "Do you have any idea how badly things could have gone if I hadn't stepped in?"

"I... I know," he muttered, barely above a whisper. His voice trembled as he added, "I was scared..." He hesitated, his wide, innocent eyes lifting to meet yours. "I was scared that if I didn't fight back, you'd... you'd leave me. That you'd never want to see me again."

Your brows furrowed in disbelief. "You did all of this... just so I wouldn't stop seeing you?" . He nodded hesitantly.

"But why?"

"Because..." His voice was soft but steady as he continued, "I like you. I want to stay with you always." He paused, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. "You're the first person who's ever helped me... who's ever cared about me. You get mad at me, worry about me, smile at me-no one's ever done that for me before. But you..." His voice faltered, then grew stronger. "You saved me so many times, without even thinking twice."

Jungkook's eyes shone with a vulnerability that caught you off guard. "My mom used to tell me stories about angels. And the day you saved me for the first time... I thought I was seeing one."

He looked at you with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher, one that made your chest tighten.

"Lee Y/N... you're my angel. You're special to me."

Maybe it was the situation that brought you two close. You discovered that, just like your father, his was also abusive. The reason he was always covered in bruises was because his father took out his frustration on him. Slowly but surely, you and Jungkook became inseparable, sharing not only your joys but your sorrows too.

Pain.

Happiness.

Everything.

You had given him the nickname "Kookie," and the way his eyes lit up every time you called him that had etched itself into your memory. No one else used that name; it was yours and yours alone.

PRESENT TIME-

"Because Lee Y/N was the only one who was precious to me from the start."

Jungkook's words from that day in the university storage room echoed in your mind. Something soft and velvety brushed against your heart, fluttering just once-but once was enough.

A butterfly.

No. No, no, no.

You loved animals, you truly did, but you couldn't allow a butterfly to live in your stomach. Not for Jeon Jungkook. It needed to die immediately.

You couldn't be attracted to your so-called best friend. Not in a way that gave you butterflies.

"He abandoned you, Y/N. Don't forget," you mentally scolded yourself.

You sighed, remembering the old days. The last time you saw him was the day his father hit you as you tried to save him from being struck on the head with a flower pot.

You fainted and were bleeding from the hit. He'd been so scared for you, trembling and crying uncontrollably. Even though after you woke up, you tried to make him understand it wasn't his fault still he couldn't stop blaming himself.

After that day, he disappeared into thin air. He abandoned you without a word and never tried to contact you again.

Now, as you thought back, even though you hated him for leaving, you had to admit you'd been deeply worried about him after his disappearance.

And now, after all these years, you'd seen him again. He'd grown up well, seemingly without trouble, and had become the most powerful figure in the business world. Knowing that brought you a sense of relief.

But you couldn't deny it-you still resented him.

You were lost in your thoughts when your door burst open. Lifting your head from the pillow, you looked at the person.

"Jinae, we need to talk."

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