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»Fuck.«
At the far end of the dance studio, Jeon Jungkook sinks down into a chair, his chest heaving. Even with his eyes closed shut, waves of stinging pain are flowing through his body, ebbing away too slowly for his mind not to go to the worst of all places.
»Hey, what happened? Where does it hurt?!«
»...'s the knee.« He rests his head against the mirror and the rush of cold makes it easier to breathe, a never-ending cycle of steady and controlled breaths until the world comes back to him.
When it does, his sweat has fogged up the mirror, but Jungkook meets her glance anyway, the dark brown eyes waiting to measure him up like only she does. His heart skips a beat.
»Is this about lack of sleep?«
Song Haru smiles at him, both amused and scolding. But when she drops to the floor and touches his outstretched leg just lightly, careful not to hurt him, worried in a way she cannot – will not – show, he's thankful nonetheless and clings to her professionalism.
»Had I known you wouldn't make it through more than three rounds today, I would've let you have that extra hour of sleep.«
Jungkook would be a fool to believe the innocent fluttering of her lashes. She knows what memories she stirs. Because there she is, arching her back on his lap, throwing her head in a sharp intake of breath when he pushed into her hard, »Oh baby« dripping from her lips, all hoarse and raw.
The pain subsides as the taste of her skin spreads over his tongue, an echo of lustful kisses down her breasts, praising, worshipping.
Despite the throbbing heat of his knee, a smile climbs Jungkooks lips. »It's not that,« he mutters plainly, and she winks at him, standing up.
»Of course not.«
He watches her cross the studio, shutting off the music, and with Timbaland falling away, the only beat that remains is the one of his heart – deafeningly loud in his ears, his knee pulsating with it.
He had been tired this morning, another night spent between the sheets, losing himself in her. But tired is his default mode and Jungkook isn't one to miss beats, not one to misplace his weight because of that.
His knee doesn't give out just because he's tired.
There's a possibility hidden that he pushes away as he transfixes his eyes on Haru. Picking up her bag, placing the towel around her neck, pulling her brand-new blonde hair into a bun. She looks different; the red waves she wore for their last album, a shimmering cherry against the sun, almost forgotten. He likes her better this way.
Jungkook's gaze only leaves her when she stops in front of the ceiling height windows, gulping down water. There's nothing but grey to be seen outside, clouds upon clouds even hiding Seoul's skyline from him. If Jungkook didn't know better, he'd say a storm was coming.
»So, are we done for today?« Haru's peeking over her shoulder and that's an invite as good as any. His hands resting on his thighs to stabilize himself, he gets up.
»We could hit the Japanese restaurant I told you about,« even with her eyes turned away, he knows she's waiting for him. »It's said they have the best dumplings in town. It's been a while since we had lunch together.«
»That's because we just had three nights together,« he chimes in, reaching for his hoodie and pulling it over his head while he crosses the room. Stopping right behind her, he places his hands on her waist. »Isn't that worth anything?«
Teasing is a game for two and he is used to winning, so caressing her neck with breathy kisses, delicate and soft, comes naturally.
Haru leans into him for a second, a sigh rising up from deep within her, but when she turns around to face him, laughter waits in her eyes, laughter and something else entirely ...
»And that's all I get, mh? Three nights ...«
» ... they were worth it.«
»You know ...« She lets her hands wander to his neck, pushing herself against him. She rejoices when Jungkook pulls her closer. »... I'm not too sure about that. I'd say, let's have lunch and at least one dessert, so we can figure it out.«
»Dessert, hm?« he hums, low in his throat. »I see...«
Childishly bashful, Haru chuckles. She's happy because he's made her happy over and over again over the span of those past few days and he just wants one more taste.
So, he kisses her. Passionately.
But when he pulls away, he can see in her eyes that she understands that no matter how tempting this is, it has to be goodbye for now.
»I need to go back.« His words drag themselves into existence. »It's time.«
Her »I know« isn't hard on him, but when she steps back, it isn't hard to know either that she had hoped for more. But with the annual Hip Hop World Championship on the horizon, those three days have already bordered on excessive.
The shortness of time shared between just them comes with the business.
So five minutes later, they leave the studio together but refrain from touching as soon as they step into the hallways of BigHit's headquarter.
Unofficial is their brand.
Their agencies grew them, watered and nurtured them, allowed for opportunities to see each other – made sure they caused enough buzz to stay relevant without ever crossing over into scandal territory.
Meant to be boyfriend and girlfriend, Jungkook and Haru turned into partners in crime and partners in life as well. And with her girl group joining BTS on the Championship Tour ... new doors are about to open for them, another realm to add to the Hakook empire they are committed to building together.
Jungkook keeps his eyes from wandering when she bows to him, this formality a familiar coat to hide what is only whispered between them at night. She turns away to interrupt what seems to be a nicotine break for the drivers waiting for the important men and women inside the great glass building they never get to enter for themselves.
Jungkook just pulls open the door to the silver van meant to pick him up.
His driver's »Annyeonghaseyo« carries a well-known tune, the warmth of the car engulfing Jungkook immediately. The door falls shut and finally, a sigh breaks from his chest. It's comfortable sinking into the pre-heated leather seats, letting his eyes drift through the tinted car window.
Shifting his weight as the van roars to life, his knee sends an unpleasant shiver down his back.
He can still hear it snap, right there, on loop within his soul.
And it's not that he's superstitious. But his chest is heavy with dread, a lump forming in his throat, and Jungkook wasn't lying when he said it was time to go home. With the tour a mere three weeks from now, how could it be anything less than a bad omen?
So he's got to close the ranks, his brothers the only thing that matters.
These seven brothers the only thing that can matter.
When he rests his head against the window in defeat, the heavens rip open and snow comes tumbling down – the first snow of the year, untouched, untainted, filled to the brim with potential, every single snowflake a masterpiece.
