Stigma

6. silver Tides

14th February(evening)

The evening falls softly over Seoul, a muted twilight draping the city in violet and ash. Snow’s fingers tremble as she adjusts the silver clasp of her bracelet, the cool metal whispering against her wrist — a quiet anchor for the storm within. Her reflection in the mirror is both familiar and foreign — a girl adorned in silver, matching the shimmer of the stars outside, her heart pounding like the tide against the rocks.

Her sisters circle her quietly, each one carrying their own shade of care. Snujin fusses over the hem of her dress, smoothing out every last crease, while Miyoon secures the final strands of her hair into place. Jaeyoung offers a mischievous grin and whispers, “Don’t let him think you’re too impressed.”

But it’s Lilly, their leader, who crouches to fix the strap of Snow’s heel, her voice soft but steady. “Be yourself, Snooby. Don’t carry him, don’t carry us. Just… breathe. Tonight is for you.”

Snow nods faintly, though the storm in her chest only deepens.

From the doorway, Minho crosses her arms, her sharp tone masking the worry in her eyes. “If he so much as makes you frown, call me. I’ll break his jaw.”

The others laugh softly, but Snow only smiles in gratitude. Their voices wrap around her like a shield, the only kind of armor she has ever known. When she finally steps outside, the sound of their “Bye, Snooby, and best of luck!” follows her, fading into the twilight.

Outside, a sleek black Sedan purrs against the curb. It’s him — Jungkook. He leans casually against it, his silver tie glinting faintly in the dying light. The last rays of twilight catch his chestnut hair, highlighting the subtle waves and the way a few rebellious strands fall over his forehead. Each movement of his head makes the strands shift like liquid copper in the dim light.

When his gaze finds her, something unspoken flickers between them—a pause heavy with memories of what has been broken. His lips curve into a soft, tentative smile, but his eyes carry the weight of guilt and longing.

Snow notices the tension beneath his calm exterior: the faint outlines of veins along his forearms as he rests one hand lightly against the car, the subtle tightening of his jaw as he watches her approach. Even the slight flex of his neck as he shifts his weight speaks volumes. He looks poised, hot and commanding, yet there’s a vulnerability there that tugs at her attention.

Those chestnut locks brushing slightly against his forehead, and with every breath, the black shirt beneath his suit jacket hugs his torso, hinting at the muscles coiled beneath. His silver tie shimmers faintly, a delicate contrast to the dark silhouette of him standing in the evening glow.

Snow walks toward him slowly, heels tapping against the pavement. His gaze lingers, memorizing her in the moonlight, and yet, almost instinctively, he straightens, trying to regain control of himself as the weight of her presence presses gently against his chest.

“Ready?” he asks softly, opening the car door for her.

Snow only gives a small nod before slipping into the passenger seat. The interior is cool, quiet — except for the faint hum of the engine. She fixes her gaze on the night road unfurling outside the window, unwilling to meet his eyes. Jungkook’s hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles pale, his throat working as if each swallow carries words he can’t quite release.

“Do you… want me to play some music?” he asks finally, his voice cautious. “Something soft?”

Snow doesn’t respond, her eyes lost in the blur of city lights. He takes her silence as permission and queues a song — low, aesthetic, something that fills the car without crowding it. The melody stretches thin between them, delicate and bittersweet.