"Just because someone desires you, it does not mean that they value you."
— Nayyirah Waheed

Y/N’S POV

He knelt before me, extending a single crimson rose, his eyes shimmering with anticipation. His voice, steady yet tinged with nervous excitement, filled the air between us.

"Yoona, will you go to prom with me?"

For a moment, my breath hitched. The world around me faded into a muffled blur, the laughter and chatter dissolving into nothingness. Instinctively, my gaze drifted across the room.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, piercing and unreadable. There was no discernible emotion on his face, yet something about his stare sent a shiver down my spine. My heart twisted in response, a strange unease settling in my chest.

"Uh..."

A suffocating silence stretched between us. The weight of expectant gazes bore down on me, pressing against my skin. I lowered my eyes to Taehyung. His expression was unwavering—pure, hopeful, and so full of happiness that, despite the turmoil within me, I found myself smiling just a little.

"Yes."

The room erupted into applause. The sound was almost deafening, yet oddly distant, as if I were standing on the outside, watching it all unfold. I reached down, offering my hand to Taehyung, helping him rise from his kneeling position. The moment he was upright, he pulled me into a warm embrace—quick but firm, as if in that brief second, he wanted to convey his gratitude, his excitement.

"Thank you, Yoona."

"No problem," I replied with a small smile, though my voice felt thinner than I intended.

I turned to head back to my seat, but before I could even take a breath, I felt it—the weight of a gaze burning into me.

Jungkook.

The moment my eyes met his, my stomach twisted. His expression was unreadable, yet his stare was sharper than ever, a silent accusation lurking within its depths. My pulse quickened.

He moved towards the empty seat beside me, his strides slow, deliberate. But before he could sit down, I quickly shifted, slipping into the seat next to Yunjin instead, leaving him no choice but to take the spot beside Taehyung. I caught the brief flicker of annoyance in his eyes before he masked it beneath an impassive expression. The tension in his posture, however, was impossible to ignore.

"We should absolutely go dress shopping together!" Yunjin squealed, her excitement bubbling over.

I nodded eagerly, latching onto the distraction as we began discussing which boutiques to visit, our plans for the perfect gowns taking shape. But even as I forced myself into the conversation, I was acutely aware of the silent daggers being thrown my way.

A bead of sweat traced its way down my temple as I chanced a sideways glance.

Jungkook hadn’t looked away.

His head rested against his hands, fingers lightly intertwined, but his gaze remained trained on me—steady, searching, as though he were trying to unearth something I wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

And in that silence, I swore I could hear the question his eyes so clearly asked me.

Did you make the right choice?

━━

At last, the weekend had arrived, and with it, a welcome reprieve from Jungkook. He hadn’t so much crossed my path since that dreadful class, and for the most part, the absence felt like a breath of fresh air. Yet, a nagging feeling at the back of my mind told me that this silence wasn’t as comforting as it seemed. I had learned, all too well, that with him around, calm was nothing more than the prelude to a storm.

Thankfully, I had other distractions. I was at the mall with Kazuha, Jisoo, and Yunjin, all of whom had made it their personal mission to ensure I found the perfect dress. They were buzzing with excitement, flitting from store to store, their enthusiasm unwavering. Meanwhile, I was the only one who had yet to make a choice, much to their growing impatience.

As evening descended and the last traces of daylight began to fade, we agreed that the boutique we were in would be my final stop.

"Come on, Yoona! You can do it!" Jisoo’s voice rang out encouragingly from the other side of the dressing room curtain as I stood before the mirror, eyeing my options.

Three dresses. Three entirely different styles. Each one was chosen by a different friend, and one of them would soon be mine.

The first was a sleek black dress—thigh-length, layered delicately with sheer fabric, its bodice structured with a tight corset that accentuated my figure. Yunjin had picked this one, and the moment I stepped out, her reaction was instantaneous.

A high-pitched squeal erupted from her lips as she leapt up from her seat, beaming triumphantly.

"I told you all! Black is so her colour!" she declared, her voice dripping with self-satisfaction as she turned to the other two, awaiting their agreement.

I let out a soft laugh, twirling once before them. "So? What’s the verdict?"

Jisoo tilted her head thoughtfully. "Six and a half."

"Five out of ten," Kazuha added, entirely unfazed.

Yunjin let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes as if personally offended. "Oh, please! You two are just jealous that mine is obviously the best. Ten out of ten!"

I chuckled at their antics before slipping back into the changing room to try on the next option—Kazuha’s choice.

This one was entirely different. A pristine white gown, cinched tightly at the waist and cascading down to my feet in a flowing silhouette. The corset was adorned with intricate floral embroidery, delicate yet regal.

As soon as I emerged, Kazuha began clapping, thoroughly pleased with herself.

"You have to admit, white makes her look like an absolute princess!" she gushed.

The other two, however, were less than convinced.

"She looks like she’s about to walk down the aisle," Jisoo remarked dryly.

"I do like the floral detailing, though," Yunjin conceded, arms crossed as she appraised the dress more critically.

"Seven out of ten," Yunjin concluded.

"Seven and a half," Jisoo added.

I huffed at their unimpressed responses, shaking my head in amusement. "Right, onto the final one."

I turned back towards the mirror, my eyes falling upon the last dress—the one Jisoo had picked.

It was exquisite.

A deep, silk crimson that clung to my waist before flowing effortlessly down to the floor in smooth, weightless folds. The off-shoulder design was adorned with delicate, draped sleeves, each layer cascading gracefully down my arms. The bodice fit snugly against my torso, structured yet soft, revealing just enough to appear effortlessly elegant. The back, open in an oval cut, added an air of sophistication, while intricate embroidery shimmered faintly beneath the dressing room lights.

As I stepped out, an unmistakable hush fell over the room.

Jisoo’s eyes widened before she broke into a bright smile. "Ten out of ten!" she cheered instantly.

Yunjin and Kazuha exchanged brief glances before nodding in agreement.

"Absolutely. Ten."

A slow smile spread across my lips as I twirled once more, feeling the fabric glide around me. A full day of searching, countless fittings, and endless deliberations—all of it had led to this moment.

And it was worth it.

Slipping back into the changing room, I cast one last lingering look at my reflection in the mirror.

I loved it.

━━

As my friends ushered me towards the till, my heart was still basking in the glow of finding the perfect dress. The cashier, a polite-looking woman with a warm smile, took the garment from my hands and scanned the price tag.

"That will be four hundred and fifty dollars, ma’am," she said smoothly, her voice calm and professional.

But my breath hitched.

My eyes widened as the number flashed on the screen, my fingers tightening around my card. I had been prepared to indulge, but not this much.

With a sharp inhale, I fumbled for my phone, hastily navigating to my banking app, the digits blurring slightly as my pulse thrummed in my ears.

"I only planned on spending three hundred at most," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

A collective gasp rippled through the group.

"Come on, Yoona! You have to get this dress! It was made for you!" Kazuha pleaded, her tone desperate, as if the very fate of the evening hinged on my decision.

I nodded absently, torn between desire and financial responsibility. But as my eyes flicked over the balance displayed on my screen, every thought screeched to a halt.

My heart dropped.

Only this morning, my account contained a modest three hundred dollars. And now?

Ten thousand.

Ten thousand and three hundred dollars.

A chill crept down my spine as I instinctively navigated to my transaction history. And there it was.

A single deposit.

A name that sent an immediate wave of unease crashing over me.

— Jeon Jungkook —
Prom Dress Donation for my love

+$10,000.00
Transaction made: Today, 12:04 PM
___________________________

My fingers tightened around my phone. My breath felt trapped in my chest.

What had he done?

But… It was now 12:10.

My breath hitched slightly as I stared at the time, my fingers tightening around my phone.

"No way! Who on earth would send you that much money, Yoona?" Kazuha gasped, leaning over my shoulder in an attempt to glimpse my screen.

I reacted instantly, locking my phone and tucking it swiftly into my bag before she could see the name that was glaring back at me like a silent warning.

I forced a nonchalant shrug. "I don’t know. It didn’t say." My voice was deliberately light, breezy, as though the situation didn’t unnerve me to my very core.

Before anyone could probe further, I plastered on a bright smile. "But hey! At least I can afford the dress now!" I chirped, my tone deliberately cheerful, as if money had simply fallen from the sky.

Thankfully, the distraction worked. The girls beamed in excitement, their concerns melting away as I swiped my card. A few agonising seconds later, the machine beeped in approval.

Transaction complete.

Yet, despite my successful act of nonchalance, unease curled in my stomach like a cold serpent. I couldn’t shake the feeling. The eerie sense that I was being watched.

Instinctively, my eyes flickered around the bustling mall, scanning the crowd with an increasing sense of dread. And then—

There.

A figure stood just across the corridor, draped in all black, seemingly absorbed in his phone. But I knew better.

Because the moment my gaze landed on him, he glanced up.

Jungkook.

A shiver ran down my spine.

"Let’s go, girls." My voice was steady, but my urgency was unmistakable as I ushered them away from the store, putting as much distance as possible between myself and him.

Yet, despite my efforts, there was no escaping the inevitable.

We still had to wait outside.

The cool evening air did little to soothe my nerves as we stood at the taxi rank, chatting idly while I kept my ears tuned for the arrival of a car—our escape.

A sudden honk sliced through the air, drawing our attention to a vacant taxi pulling up at the curb.

"Finally." I exhaled, eager to leave the suffocating presence that lingered somewhere behind us.

I volunteered for the front seat while the others clambered into the back, their conversation flowing effortlessly, blissfully unaware of the dread pooling in my chest.

The moment I slid into my seat and reached for my seatbelt, my breath stalled.

A flash of black fabric. A sharp, familiar scent. A suit I recognised all too well.

I turned stiffly. And locked eyes with him.

One of Jungkook’s men.

His expression was eerily calm, his lips twitching into a small, knowing smile—one that made my stomach twist in unease.

I wanted to slap it off his face.

Of all the taxis in this city…

My hands curled into fists as I forced myself to breathe, my heart hammering in my chest. I was trapped in this car for the next ten minutes. Trapped with one of his men. One of his spies.

The girls behind me chattered away, oblivious to the growing tension suffocating the air around me.

And I?

I sat rigidly, staring unblinkingly out of the window, knowing he was watching my every move. Knowing that, somewhere beneath that expensive suit, he likely carried a loaded gun.

I couldn't stay calm.

━━

At last, the car was empty. My friends were gone, safe from whatever twisted game this was. It was just me now. Me and the enemy.

A heavy silence settled between us, thick and suffocating. The only sounds were the rhythmic hum of the engine and the faint murmur of traffic outside.

We were nearing my stop when he finally spoke.

"You know, the whole gang misses you dearly… especially Boss."

His words sliced through the quiet like a blade.

I turned my head, meeting his gaze. His face was void of emotion, perfectly composed—just like all of Jungkook’s men. Cold. Unreadable. Calculated.

I exhaled slowly, my fingers twitching against my lap. "It’s all I’ve been told," I murmured, my voice edged with exhaustion.

Leaning against the window, I tried to let the cool glass soothe my temple, but the moment was fleeting. The car rolled to a stop, and I was forced upright again.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him reach into his pocket. A single, neatly folded piece of paper emerged between his fingers. Without hesitation, he extended it towards me.

I hesitated.

Our eyes locked. There was no smirk this time, no trace of mockery—just a grave, unwavering seriousness that made my pulse stutter.

"Please consider going."

That was all he said before stepping out, shutting the door behind him, and disappearing into the night.

I stood there, motionless. The air around me felt colder, heavier. It was a full minute before I finally looked down at the delicate sheet in my grasp.

Slowly, carefully, I unfolded it, only to have my fingers tighten at the edges the moment my eyes skimmed the handwriting.

Before you close this letter, Y/N,
Please think about meeting me at midnight at the top of Palgongsan Hill.

Your love,
Jungkook

A sharp scoff left my lips. Without a second thought, I folded the letter back, shoving it deep into my pocket before storming towards my apartment.

Did he truly think I would forgive him that easily?

He couldn’t just point a gun at someone’s head one day and expect me to come running to him the next, bribing me with extravagant gifts as though that would erase everything.

Who the hell did he think he was?

━━

Slumping into my desk chair, I turned my attention to my textbooks, attempting to study for my end-of-year exams. The hours slipped by unnoticed until, with a weary sigh, I finally glanced at the clock. 10:00 pm.

Outside my window, the city was alive, bathed in a symphony of white and crimson lights. The distant hum of traffic, the occasional blare of a horn—it all blended into a dull, unrelenting noise, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of my apartment.

Rubbing my temples, I felt the weight of the day press heavily against me, anxiety creeping into my chest like an unwelcome guest. Pushing back my chair, I rose to my feet, making my way towards the bathroom in search of some pills.

Without even glancing at the mirror above the cabinet, I reached for the container, flipping open the lid—only to be met with emptiness.

What?

I frowned. I couldn’t have finished them that quickly. A strange sense of unease prickled at the back of my mind as I slowly lifted my gaze to the mirror.

And there it was.

A small, infuriatingly familiar sticky note clung to the glass. My jaw clenched the moment I recognised the handwriting—his handwriting.

"This is helping you quit xx."

My fingers curled into a fist at my side as I exhaled sharply through my nose.

"Helping me quit?" I muttered, voice dripping with disdain. "I don’t need his help."

The audacity. The control. The way he continued to push his influence into my life, as if I were incapable of making my own decisions.

I needed an outlet.

"Maybe I should get some exercise," I mused under my breath before grabbing a coat and shrugging it over my shoulders. Without a second thought, I made my way to the living room, sliding open the window and stepping out into the night.

The familiar bite of the cold air greeted me instantly, wrapping around my skin like an old friend. I inhaled deeply, savouring the crispness of it, allowing it to wash over me, cleansing my thoughts, if only for a moment.

Tonight, the clouds were unusually low, blanketing the city in a soft, ethereal mist. As I ascended to my usual rooftop perch, I found myself above them, a world apart from the chaos below.

It was my sanctuary. A place where I could observe, where I could think. Usually, I would watch the world move beneath me, studying people’s behaviours, but tonight, the fog was too thick—its endless expanse swallowing everything in sight.

So instead, I leaned back, letting my gaze drift upwards.

The skyscrapers stretched towards the heavens, their illuminated windows flickering out one by one as the city slowly succumbed to sleep. The stars, faint yet unwavering, blinked down at me from the vast stretch of the night sky.

With a quiet sigh, I let myself sink onto my back, the cold concrete pressing against me. The wind whispered against my skin, gentle, lulling. My body felt heavy, exhaustion settling into my bones.

And as my eyelids fluttered shut, I surrendered to the stillness, allowing sleep to claim me beneath the endless sky.

━━

Gasp.

A sharp gust of icy wind cut through the air, jolting me awake. I shot up into a sitting position, heart pounding, and breathing unevenly. My frantic gaze darted around, taking in the familiar surroundings. The rooftop. Right.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my tense shoulders to relax before pushing myself off the cold concrete. The chill had intensified—each passing second drawing the temperature lower, seeping into my bones. Another gust tore through the night, biting against my skin, and instinctively, I shoved my hands into my coat pockets.

But then—crinkle.

My fingers brushed against something.

I froze momentarily before pulling out the small, crumpled piece of paper. The note. His note.

My eyes skimmed over the words once more, the neat, familiar script taunting me in the dim glow of the city lights. A slow, frustrated exhale escaped my lips as my grip tightened around the fragile page.

And then, with a low grunt, I crushed it in my fist, letting the paper crumple under my grip before dropping it to the ground.

Fuck it.

Without another moment’s hesitation, I spread my wings and soared off the rooftop, leaving the message—and him—behind.

━━

The hill was silent. Not in the way I had expected, though—it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt peaceful, nor was it the kind that set nerves at ease. It was thick, expectant, like the very air around me was holding its breath.

As I made my way through the trees and past the undergrowth, I half-expected some grand gesture from him—something extravagant, something dramatic, something entirely Jungkook. But when I finally reached the crest of the hill, all I found was his silhouette against the skyline.

He was leaning against the railing, his back to me, staring out at the city below. The neon lights reflected faintly against the darkness of his figure, but he made no move to acknowledge me.

Still, I knew that he had already sensed my presence.

And now, it was simply a matter of who would make the first move.

"Not even a hello?" His voice cut through the silence suddenly, making me flinch, though I refused to let it show.

I said nothing, only holding my ground with a steady glare.

Slowly, Jungkook turned to face me, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. He frowned, and I instinctively furrowed my brows in response, looking away as I hugged my arms to my body to ward off the creeping cold.

We stood there in a standoff, both unwilling to be the first to break.

But then, the cold betrayed me.

A visible shiver ran through me, and just like that, he moved.

Without a word, he shrugged off his blazer, stepping closer as he draped it over my shoulders, the warmth of the fabric sinking into my skin. His hands lingered briefly as he buttoned it up for me, the gesture so intimate, so careful, that I momentarily forgot how to breathe.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning, either. But there was something in his gaze—something dark, something sorrowful—that made my heart clench.

The warmth that had rushed to my face only lasted a moment before he straightened up, looking down at me with that same unwavering intensity.

"Why did you do it?" His voice was quiet, laced with something unreadable.

I blinked, tilting my head slightly. "Do what?"

Jungkook exhaled sharply, almost as if frustrated with himself.

"Why did you say yes?"

It was vague at first, but then the realisation clicked. The proposal.

A soft chuckle escaped me, and I allowed myself a small, knowing smile. "He only meant it as a friend," I replied, my voice calm but certain.

Jungkook, however, remained unconvinced. His gaze darkened as he leaned in slightly, lowering himself to my height. His brow arched, scepticism dripping from every fibre of his being.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was deeper now, almost challenging.

The sudden shift made my breath hitch. For a fleeting second, doubt gnawed at me. I knew Taehyung had never shown any romantic interest in me before, so why did it suddenly feel like a possibility now?

"Yes?" I answered, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

Jungkook let out another frustrated groan before closing the remaining distance between us. One of his hands found my waist, pulling me close, while the other trailed along my spine, his touch slowly—calculated. The sensation sent a ripple of shivers throughout my body.

"And do you feel the same?" His voice was lower now, laced with something dangerous.

"Him, as a friend?"

"Yes."

This time, my response was firm, unwavering.

The movement of his fingers stilled near the nape of my neck, and in the next instant, he leaned in, his breath warm against my skin. Our faces were barely inches apart.

"Good."

Before I could react, I felt a sharp yet oddly precise pressure against the back of my neck.

A pulse of energy surged through me, arching my back as a gasp tore from my lips. My body reacted instinctively, and in an instant, I felt them—my wings—unfurling from my back.

My eyes widened in shock as I glanced over my shoulder, my fingers hesitantly reaching out to touch the feathers, feeling their presence, their weight. How…?

"Must’ve hit a soft spot," Jungkook murmured, his tone teasing, his amusement evident.

I snapped my head towards him, fixing him with a hard glare, but he remained entirely unbothered, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, willing myself to regain composure. But the moment I reopened them, Jungkook was no longer standing in front of me.

Confused, I turned slightly, but before I could fully pivot, I froze.

A breath—warm and deliberate—ghosted against the back of my neck.

Then, the slow, tantalising trace of fingertips skimming down the length of my wings.

"They serve as a reminder," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "That you’re mine. Not anyone else’s."

A shiver—different from the cold this time—coursed through my body. His lips hovered dangerously close to my skin, the heat of his presence making my head spin.

But just as I braced myself for contact—

—it was gone.

I spun around.

There was no one there.

The night was silent once more.

I exhaled, my grip tightening around the edges of the blazer still draped over my shoulders.

"We'll see about that."

Words count-4168

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