Stars Off The Stage

⊹𝖥𝗈𝗋𝗍ɣ 𝐄𝗂𝗀ɦ𝗍 ⊹

JUNGKOOK'S POV

I stood in front of Ariana’s door, my fists clenched at my sides, the weight of the past few weeks crushing my chest. I had been rehearsing what to say for days, trying to string together an apology that didn’t feel hollow, but every time I practiced, the words fell short.

Now that I was here, everything I’d prepared seemed pointless. What could I say to fix what I’d broken? What if there was no fixing it at all?

I took a deep breath, my knuckles grazing the wooden door as I knocked. The silence that followed stretched on endlessly, each second gnawing at my nerves. When the door finally creaked open, revealing Ariana’s tired, tear-streaked face, my breath hitched in my throat.

God, what had I done?

Her eyes were puffy from crying, and even though she stood tall in front of me, I could see how fragile she was—like a porcelain doll teetering on the edge of shattering. And it was all my fault.

"Ariana," I whispered, her name like a prayer on my lips.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stared at me. Her silence cut deeper than any words ever could.

I stepped inside, closing the door gently behind me. The air between us felt heavy, weighed down by everything we hadn’t said yet. My heart pounded as I tried to meet her gaze, but she was already looking away, arms crossed protectively over her chest.

"Why are you here?" Her voice was cold, detached, but there was a tremor underneath it, a slight crack in the armor.

I took a breath, forcing myself to speak before I lost my nerve. "I had to see you. I can’t… I can’t leave things like this. Not after everything."

Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp and cautious. "So what? You’re here to accuse me again? Or worse, ask me to forget how you broke me?"

Her words pierced through me, and I flinched. "No. Ariana, no. I’m here to apologize."

That was the truth, though it felt inadequate. She had every right to be angry. I had ruined us—no, I had ruined her.

But then her eyes met mine, and I could see the pain beneath her anger. It wasn’t just about my accusations. It wasn’t just about me doubting her.

She was fighting with herself, with everything we’d gone through. And a part of her wasn’t sure if there was anything left worth saving.

"I was wrong," I forced out, stepping closer. "I said things I shouldn’t have. I hurt you in ways I can’t even comprehend, and I… I don’t know how to fix it. But I’ll spend every day trying if you’ll let me."

She stood there, arms still crossed, her gaze flickering between mine and the floor. For a second, I thought I saw her resolve waver. But then she shook her head, and my heart dropped.

"Jungkook," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I don’t know if I have anything left to give. You hurt me so deeply, and I don’t know how to heal from that."

I swallowed, my throat dry. "Then let me help you heal. I’ll fight for us—for you—if you’ll give me the chance."

Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. The silence between us was thick, suffocating. I could see her pain, her doubt, and something else… a flicker of hope, buried deep.

But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. She turned her back to me, walking toward the window. "I’m tired, Jungkook. I’ve been fighting for us for so long, and it feels like I’ve been fighting alone."