"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to steady your racing heart.
"Hi," Jungkook said unbothered by your question his voice low and smooth. "Do you remember me?"
You straightened keeping your posture stiff. "I remember," you replied coolly.
...
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Jungkook's POV
As we wrapped up the evening, the others began to head off to their homes, murmuring goodnights as they went. I lingered in the kitchen, pretending to tidy up, but really, I was just stalling.
Taehyung was the last to leave, and as he passed by me, he paused, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Jungkook." he said quietly. "If you need to talk... about anything... you know I'm here, right?"
I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Thanks, Taehyung."
He gave me a small smile, squeezing my shoulder before heading down the hall to the exit.
When I was finally alone, the silence in the apartment was deafening. I stood there for a long moment, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on me all over again.
I had a choice to make. I could keep running, or I could face the mess I'd created head-on. But as I stood there in the quiet, the darkness pressing in around me, I realized that the time for running was over. I couldn't keep pretending that everything was fine. I couldn't keep pushing Alba out of my mind, trying to convince myself that ignoring the problem would somehow make it disappear.
The truth was, I was terrified. Terrified of confronting the mess I'd made of things. But more than that, I was terrified of what it would mean if I didn't. I moved slowly to the living room window, staring out at the city lights twinkling in the distance.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to clear my head. There was no point in dwelling on the past, no point in agonizing over what I couldn't change. What mattered now was what I did next. I had to stop running. I had to face this, no matter how much it scared me.
I pulled out my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. Jimin's number was just a tap away, but my hand trembled as I stared at it. What would I even say? How could I begin to explain what had been going through my head that night at the bar, at his house that day, or all the other days?
