Just a fan // JK

11 - Between Now and Forever

I stared at the phone in disbelief, Scooter Braun's words replaying in my mind. "I'd like to talk about signing you to SB Projects."

"Eva?" Jungkook's soft voice pulled me back to the present.

I looked up to find him watching me, his dark eyes full of quiet concern. "That was Scooter Braun," I murmured.

He tilted his head slightly. "Who... Scooter Braun?"

I swallowed, realizing I needed to explain. "He's... big. Really big. He manages some of the biggest artists in the world—Ariana Grande, Justin Bieber, people like that." I clutched the phone tighter. "And he wants to meet with me."

Jungkook's lips parted in surprise, then curved into a small smile that reached his eyes. "Good," he said softly. "Very good."

The warmth in his voice should have reassured me, but my mind spun with doubts. "What if I'm not ready for this?" I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "What if I mess it up? Or it's too much? What if—"

He stepped closer, his hands finding mine. "Eva." His touch was steady, grounding. "You... ready. You good. This... your dream."

His broken English was simple, but every word carried conviction.

I exhaled, his belief in me soothing some of my panic. "Yeah," I whispered. "It is my dream."

"You do good," he said with a soft smile. "I know."

For a moment, I let myself lean into the warmth of his words, the safety of his presence. But then his smile faltered, and my heart clenched.

"I go... soon," he said quietly, his gaze dropping.

The apartment felt too quiet after Jungkook left for practice that morning. I couldn't stop replaying his words: I go soon. Tonight, he and the rest of BTS would board a plane to the next city on their tour. And I'd be here, trying to navigate this new chapter of my life without him.

By the time I finally built up the courage to make the call, the late morning sunlight had shifted, painting the apartment in golden streaks. I picked up my phone, staring at the number Scooter Braun had given me.

Just do it, I told myself, and tapped the screen. The line rang twice before a polished voice answered.

"Eva! I'm so glad you called," Scooter said, his voice warm and professional.

"Hi, Mr. Braun," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest.

"Please, call me Scooter," he replied. "I've been hearing a lot about you. I saw the clip of you performing with BTS—it was incredible. You've got talent, Eva. And I think SB Projects could help you take that talent to the next level."

My heart skipped a beat. "I... I don't even know what to say."

"How about we start by meeting in person?" he suggested. "I'll be in New York next week. Let's sit down and talk about what we can do together. No pressure—just a conversation."

I swallowed hard, nodding even though he couldn't see me. "That sounds great. Thank you."

"Perfect," he said. "My assistant will be in touch with the details. I'm looking forward to meeting you, Eva."

"Me too," I said softly, my voice almost lost.

The call ended, and I sat back, staring at my phone in disbelief. This was real. This was happening.

When Jungkook returned that afternoon, the sky was painted with streaks of orange and pink. He walked in with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his hair slightly damp from a shower.

"You call?" he asked, setting the bag down near the door.

I nodded. "Yeah. Scooter's assistant is sending me the details for a meeting next week."

"Good," he said with a small smile. "See? You... ready."

His confidence in me was reassuring, but the weight of his impending departure pressed down on my chest.

"Have you packed everything?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Almost," he said softly, then hesitated. "Come with me."

He led me to the couch, sitting down and pulling me close until I was tucked against his side. His arms wrapped around me, his touch firm and steady, like he was trying to memorize the way I felt in his arms.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," I admitted, my voice breaking.

His hand brushed over my hair, his other arm holding me closer. "I wish too," he said quietly.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, the silence between us heavy with unspoken words. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at me.

"You wait for me?" he asked, his voice low, uncertain.

"Of course," I said, tears pooling in my eyes.

His gaze softened, his hand cupping my face. "You... special. Very special."

I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, so I just nodded, my heart breaking at the thought of letting him go.

At the airport, the goodbye I'd been dreading felt unbearably close. BTS's staff worked quickly, ushering the members through private hallways and secured areas to avoid fans and cameras. The other members were already waiting in the lounge, but Jungkook lingered, his hand finding mine as we walked behind the group.

We stopped near a secluded corner, far from prying eyes. The fluorescent lights buzzed above us, the sterile airport air pressing down on me.

"I hate this," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I hate hiding, I hate not being able to say goodbye to you properly."

He turned to face me, his hands framing my face. "I hate too," he said, his voice rough. "But... we keep safe. For now."

I nodded, though my chest ached with every beat.

"Eva," he murmured, leaning in until our foreheads touched. His breath fanned against my skin, and I closed my eyes, letting the moment anchor me.

"I come back," he said softly. "You know?"

"Yes," I whispered, though it felt like my heart was shattering.

His lips brushed mine then, a kiss so tender and full of longing that I felt it all the way down to my soul. It deepened, his hands tangling in my hair as mine gripped his shirt. The kiss was desperate, like we were trying to hold on to something we both knew we'd have to let go of too soon.

"Jungkook," someone called softly from down the hall.

He pulled back, his forehead still pressed to mine. "I go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tears blurred my vision as I nodded. "Be safe," I choked out.

His thumb brushed away a stray tear before he grabbed his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "You... wait for me," he said again, his voice both a question and a plea.

"Always," I whispered, my voice cracking.

He lingered for a moment longer, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to memorize every detail. And then he turned, his steps slow and hesitant as he walked away.

I watched him until he disappeared around the corner, my chest tight with the weight of his absence.

This wasn't goodbye. It couldn't be.

But as I made my way back to the car, clutching his blazer around me, the scent of him lingering on the fabric, it felt like the world had shifted beneath my feet.