Chapter Text
“How’d you sleep?” Hoseok asks, setting scrambled eggs with garlic toast on the table in front of you before rushing back to the stove. He turns it off just in time to save the bacon from burning.
One thing you’ve always admired is Hoseok’s cooking skills—they’re insanely impressive. Even when you’re not hungry, the smell of garlic bread, fluffy eggs, and spicy bacon is enough to flip the switch in your stomach.
“Terrible. I kept staring at the closet door cracks,” you mumble, shoving a big bite of eggs into your mouth before sipping the orange juice he’d set down for you.
Hoseok snorts.
“Why is that funny? I heard you screaming at 3 a.m.,” you shoot back, unbothered. His laugh stops, his smile faltering.
“Yah! I got up to pee. I was half asleep and seeing things,” he says, trying to play it cool. But you already know the truth—he left his lights on all night. You’d noticed when you got up for water.
You decide not to embarrass him. After all, he made you breakfast.
“Whatever you say,” you mumble just loud enough for him to hear, letting out a dramatic sigh for extra effect.
Before he can fire back, your phone buzzes on the table. Normally, you wouldn’t care who it was this early, but this time it’s Jungkook. Since he’s the one helping you sneak into this whole trip mess, you don’t waste a second opening his text.
“Be ready by 6 p.m. Bonfire night starts at 10. It’s an hour drive, but I’m trying to get there early.”
You want to scold him—leaving four hours early when everyone’s meant to gather at 10? Seriously? But he’s already doing you a huge favor, something he doesn’t even need to do. You shut your mouth and simply like the message.
“Here’s my address. Pick me up from here,” you send quickly.
His reply comes instantly:
“Thought you were meeting me at mine. Do I really have to pick you up?”
You roll your eyes, practically hearing the cocky tone bleeding through his words. Typing aggressively, you fire back:
“Yes. You are picking me up. 😊”
The sarcastic smiley is the cherry on top.
“Hobi, I love you, but I have to go to work early today,” you say, shoving a piece of garlic bread into your mouth.
Hoseok frowns at your last-minute rush, his expression screaming Why?
“Boss chewed me out for being late yesterday,” you explain quickly. “She texted me to check in early today.”
You dart into his bathroom, throwing on your work clothes, and rush back out. After giving him a quick hug and shoving your feet into your shoes, you make for the door.
“At least finish your breakfast!” Hoseok yells.
“I did! I can’t eat more!” you shout back.
“Okay—well, take care and don’t overwork yourself,” he calls after you, softening.
You grin. “Love you!”
He flashes you a heart with his fingers.
“What the actual hell,” Leah says on the phone the second you call her. “You want me to tell the boss you got COVID so you can take a week off starting today?”
“Exactly that, babe,” you reply, glancing at the road while driving. In reality, you weren’t sick at all — you just needed an excuse to skip work and get home to pack for the trip without Hoseok knowing.
“You’ve lost your mind. If we get caught lying, we’re both fired—and you’re finding me a new job!” she shrieks through the speaker, making you turn the volume down.
“Trust me,” you say, maybe a little too confidently, “I’ll find you a job within twenty-four hours.”
By the time you pull into your driveway, your mind is spinning with excuses, clothes, and worst-case scenarios. You rush inside and start throwing things into a bag: clothes for the trip, snacks for the car, shorts for camping, sweatpants in case it gets cold, shirts and tops, bracelets and necklaces, hiking shoes, toothbrush, cap, and swimsuit just in case there’s a lake nearby.
Finally, you let out a deep breath and crash on the couch, exhausted from the speed-packing. Just when you think you can breathe for two seconds, the doorbell rings.
“Ughhh,” you groan, forcing yourself up. You drag your feet to the door and swing it open.
“Surprise?”
It’s Taehyung, standing there like he owns the place, one brow raised, the most relaxed look on his face. He’s in casual baggy blue jeans and a white compression shirt that defines every muscle perfectly.
You can’t help it—you squeal.
“Tae!” you exclaim, throwing yourself into his arms. He hugs you back right away, his relaxed face melting into his iconic boxy smile.
“How come you decided to visit me today?” you ask, watching Taehyung lounging on your couch and playing with your cat, Pumpkin.
He pauses, glancing up at you. “I thought about the whole trip thing. I didn’t want to go at first, but now… thinking about all the drama I might miss by not going makes me want to.” He shrugs, deadpan.
“And here I thought you missed me,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully.
“Oh yeah, I miss when you were a baby and couldn’t talk,” he replies, making your jaw drop. You hurl a pillow at him, which he catches effortlessly.
“Asshole,” you mouth. He flips you a middle finger in response.
“Come help me pack,” you say, kicking him lightly. He’s now lazily lying on his stomach, scrolling through his DMs.
“Didn’t you already pack it all?” he groans, putting his phone down and dragging himself to the living room where you’re standing, hands on your hips.
“You can’t be serious,” he says, eyes wide at the sight of your mountain of bags.
“What??” you ask, pretending to be shocked.
“That is a makeup bag? Why is it so huge? And that’s for snacks? What are you feeding everyone on this trip? And those clothes… are those for you or ten other people?” he says, exaggerating dramatically.
You squint at him.
“Okay, fine. Come here.”
He chuckles, pulls you into a hug, and then effortlessly carries the bags to the front door, leaving them there for when Jungkook arrives so you can easily load them into his car trunk.
“That’s what I thought,” you jokingly mumble, making him shoot you a challenging look that screams: I’ll put the bags back where they were, and you’ll HAVE to carry them this time.
You burst into laughter. “I’m going to shower before leaving,” you say, heading back inside your room, Taehyung following.
“When are we leaving?” he asks.
“We?” you look at him, blinking.
“You’re coming with me and Jungkook in the same car?”
“Yes? Unless you two want to… you know… and don’t want me there,” he says, making you gasp, hand covering your mouth.
“What? Absolutely not! Never!” you exclaim, trying to sound scandalized. You don’t tell him about the fact that, well… you were all over him two nights ago, drunk. Jungkook is insanely attractive, so you figure Taehyung would understand the drunk Y/N logic.
Looking at the clock in your room, it’s 3 PM. You still have two hours before you need to start getting ready.
“How about…” you say, walking toward your comfy bed and plopping down. “We watch Harry Potter.”
Taehyung nods instantly, crawling onto the bed next to you and tossing the remote in your direction.
“Wait!” he says dramatically. “It’s a crime to turn on the TV without having snacks.”
He quickly hops off the bed, makes a beeline for the kitchen, and comes back with his hands full of ice cream and chips. You laugh in disbelief, but honestly… he’s not wrong.
Thirty minutes later, both of you are snoring. The sugar from the ice cream hit harder than expected, and you’re asleep like you’ve never slept before. Taehyung is curled up with Pumpkin, and you’re cuddling the melted ice cream pint. Some crushed barbecue chips are scattered on the bed, and Harry Potter is still playing in the background.
The sight of the melted ice cream pint and the scattered barbecue chips makes your eyes widen. You quickly sit up, slightly panicked, realizing just how cozy—and chaotic—your nap turned out to be.
Turning to see Taehyung sleeping like a baby, you can’t help but smile quietly.
“Did I really fall asleep?” you mumble, yawning and stretching, swinging your legs off the bed.
“Needed that nap. Tonight’s going to be fun,” you say to yourself as you walk to the bathroom. A hot shower after a perfect nap? Absolutely the perfect combination.
You hop into the shower, silently praying Taehyung is awake by the time you’re done—or else he’ll definitely blame you for not waking him. The warm water hits your skin, instantly relaxing you, and you let out a soft sigh. The rose-scented shampoo lathers through your brown hair, the scent filling the steamy bathroom.
When you’re done, you grab the towel hanging nearby and wrap it around your hair before slipping into your bathrobe and comfy slippers. Stepping out of the bathroom, you immediately spot Taehyung still sprawled across your bed, dead asleep.
“Tae,” you call out, rummaging around for your moisturizer and face primer.
No response.
“Taehyung,” you repeat, a little louder. Still nothing.
“Kim Taehyung!” you yell, making him jolt upright like he’s been electrocuted.
“Fuck!” he groans, glaring at you with half-shut eyes. “You could’ve said that nicely.”
You just grin, finally pulling your makeup bag out from under a pile of clothes, completely ignoring the way you nearly gave him a heart attack.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” he complains when you don’t answer.
“Get the hell out of my bed and get ready,” you snap, tossing one of Hoseok’s shirts at him. He dodges it with a groan, dragging himself off the mattress like it weighs ten tons. He shuffles toward the living room where his bag is, pulling out clothes with the energy of a man twice his age.
Meanwhile, you start on your makeup. You’ve always been a “less is more” type—foundation, concealer, a hint of blush, mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss. Just enough to brighten you up without feeling overdone.
When you step into the living room, you find him again—this time slumped on the couch, eyes closed, looking seconds away from passing out.
“Are you serious?” you say in disbelief. You grab the towel from your hair and throw it at his face.
He stirs but doesn’t move.
“Did you seriously not sleep last night?” you scold, yanking at his arm until he gets up. He barely opens his eyes as you drag him toward the upstairs bathroom, practically sleepwalking at this point.
After finally convincing Taehyung to get dressed, you slip into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black bodysuit with a V-shaped neckline that lifts and frames your chest perfectly. You clasp a silver necklace around your neck, slide a few rings onto your fingers, and begin blow-drying your hair. Once it’s dry enough but still slightly damp, you stop to let it air-dry naturally, spritzing a soft hair mist through the strands. Next, you reach for your Victoria’s Secret Love Spell Starlet lotion, smoothing it across your skin before layering it with the matching body mist. A touch of body oil behind your ears, on your wrists, and even your belly button leaves a glowing finish. After putting in your nose ring, you step back and admire yourself in the mirror—you look gorgeous, and you know it.
When you open the door, Taehyung is standing there in his cream-colored knit sweater with loose sleeves, light blue straight-leg jeans, and that boxy smile that never fails to make you grin back. You grab your phone to message Jungkook but are interrupted by a text: “I’m here.”
“Let’s go,” you tell Taehyung, who bends down to give Pumpkin a final kiss before the two of you grab your bags and head outside.
Jungkook is leaning against his sleek black Mercedes-Benz, arms crossed, one leg casually hooked over the other. He wears black shorts and a tight compression shirt that clings to his frame, every line of his biceps and shoulders on full display—his body a clear testament to the hours he spends working out. His eyes are sharp, expression cold, though the corner of his mouth lifts briefly when he sees you. But when his gaze shifts to Taehyung walking beside you, the smile falters. He’s not upset, just… caught off guard. Jungkook hadn’t been told anyone else was coming, and he doesn’t know who Taehyung is—so naturally, confusion flickers across his face.
You pause. “Oh—this is Taehyung, my friend. He’ll be coming with us. You don’t mind, right?”
For a moment, Jungkook is quiet, still processing. Then he gives a short nod. “Not at all.” His voice is calm, even, as he steps forward to open the trunk, taking your bags without another word.
You smile faintly at his rare kindness, pretending not to notice the heavy silence that lingers between the two men as if they’re already sizing each other up.
“Thank you sooo much,” you say once you’re settled in the passenger seat, fastening your belt as Jungkook starts the car. His eyes stay trained on the road, but he spares you a quick glance, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile.
“Yeah, no problem,” he replies, voice casual.
You turn slightly to check on Taehyung in the backseat, only to catch him glaring at the two of you with a disgusted look. It makes you scoff quietly—nothing even happened besides you thanking Jungkook.
“Can we play some music?” Taehyung cuts in, his tone sharp enough to slice through the air. Jungkook doesn’t react, just hands his phone back without a word.
The music that fills the car is soft, low enough that you and Jungkook can still talk over it. His voice comes again after a few minutes, steady, quiet.
“How do you feel?” he asks, still focused on the road.
You take a small breath. “Nervous,” you admit, “but excited to see him.” Your mind wanders briefly to the possibilities of what might happen, your chest tightening with both anticipation and fear.
Jungkook nods once, acknowledging your words, but doesn’t push further. His silence is puzzling. The night he stayed with you when you were drunk, his energy had been light, playful—you’d bickered and teased until you were laughing too hard to breathe. Now, in the sober clarity of the car ride, he feels different. Not cold exactly, but reserved. Stoic. A quiet sort of manliness that makes you wonder which version of him is real—the warm boy who teased you that night, or the unreadable one sitting beside you now.
Not that it really matters—you’re not planning on being friends with Jungkook anyway. At best, the two of you will only ever be acquaintances. Or so you tell yourself.
The rest of the drive passes with Taehyung in control of the music, the two of you bickering in the back-and-forth way only close friends can. Every so often, your banter pulls a laugh out of Jungkook, low and unexpected, as he maneuvers the car through the streets.
When he finally parks, the three of you unload the bags together. Jungkook opens the trunk, pulling some of the weight onto his shoulders with practiced ease. “The entrance is this way,” he says, placing a steady hand on your lower back to guide you forward. The touch jolts your memory—just like that night at the club, when his hand had pressed you through the crowd, protective and firm.
“We’re supposed to sign in here,” he explains as he leads both you and Taehyung toward a table where two women are seated, registration sheets spread out in front of them.
“Kim Taehyung,” Taehyung says easily, leaning forward to write his name and number down. One of the women, however, doesn’t even pretend to hide her wandering gaze. Her eyes sweep straight to Jungkook, shamelessly drinking in the outline of his chest beneath the compression shirt.
“You can come here,” she says sweetly, a smile curling at her lips as she gestures him over.
Jungkook glances at her, the corner of his mouth tugging up in polite acknowledgment, but his eyes flick back to you almost immediately. He waits for you to move with him, making sure you’re by his side as he steps closer to the table—subtle, but clear. He brought you here, and in his mind, that makes you his responsibility.
His thumb brushes idly over his lip piercing, a casual habit, but it only makes the woman’s stare sharpen with hunger. “What’s your name and phone number?” she asks, voice dripping with interest.
“Jeon Jungkook,” he replies smoothly, his voice low enough to make her flush as she scribbles down the details, her expression all but screaming you’re so hot
“Cottage Four,” the woman says with a smile, sliding a keycard across the table. Her gaze lingers on Jungkook a beat too long before she tilts her head. “You’re not sharing with anyone, right?”
Jungkook looks at her, expression flat, lips pressed together in that way he does when he’s about to answer seriously. His eyes flick to you briefly—so quick you almost miss it—before he replies, voice even.
“I’ll be sharing with her.”
For a moment, your breath hitches. You hadn’t expected that. Honestly, you assumed he’d put you in your own cottage, maybe even insist on paying for it himself. Sharing with him wasn’t even an option that crossed your mind, but here he is, stating it as fact.
The woman’s smile falters instantly. Her eyes dart to you, her tone losing its warmth as quickly as it had appeared. You try to meet her look with a polite smile, but it feels awkward under the weight of her sudden disinterest. She’s stunning—long caramel-blonde hair with bangs that frame her face, a fitted sleeveless top with a cherry print hugging her torso, paired with a skirt that shows off endless legs. Gorgeous and unbothered, at least until Jungkook made his choice.
“What’s your name?” she asks you, her voice clipped now, stripped of the flirtation she’d poured into Jungkook.
“Y/N,” you answer softly. She doesn’t even bother writing it down.
Instead, she pushes both keycards across the table. “Here. For the door.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook says smoothly, his lips quirking into a polite smile as he takes the cards. The woman waves at him on their way out, the flirt back in her eyes as if you don’t exist. He humors her with a small smile, nothing more.
You notice Taehyung on the other side of the registration table, already done signing in and chatting with people he knows from college. You’re reminded again how you don’t belong to that world—this is their college’s retreat, their circle. Guests are allowed, sure, but the unspoken rule is clear: as long as you pay for a cottage, no one really cares who you sneak in. Profit over rules, always.
You glance over at Taehyung, who’s chatting casually with someone nearby. When his eyes meet yours for a moment, you give him a quick smile to signal you’re fine. He flashes you a thumbs up before turning back to his conversation.
Your focus shifts when you hear Jungkook snort. He’s staring at the back of the key card, where the girl from registration had scribbled her number. He doesn’t look surprised in the slightest—just mildly amused, like this is a routine occurrence. Definitely not the first time he’s been approached that way.
“It’s this one!” you call, spotting the sign for Cottage Four.
Jungkook nods, handing you the card. “Here. You open it.”
You press the card to the scanner, and the door clicks open. The sight that greets you makes your eyes widen. The cottage is huge—two bedrooms, a spacious living room, sleek furniture that screams luxury. You shouldn’t be surprised, not when Jungkook booked the VIP option—the most expensive one—but still, seeing it in person hits different.
He lets out a heavy breath, dropping both your bags in the middle of the living room before collapsing onto the couch like it belongs to him. You stand there awkwardly for a beat, then wander off to peek into the rooms, curiosity buzzing through you.
The rooms are decently big, each with a queen-sized bed, a TV, and a small two-seater couch. A glass table with chairs sits by a massive sliding window—big enough to step outside if you want.
Curious, you push the curtains aside and peek out. People are already arriving—some guys marinating meat for barbecue, girls setting up seats on the grass for the bonfire, others chatting in little groups.
“I don’t see him,” you whisper under your breath, thinking of Jimin.
When you turn around, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest—you bump straight into a solid wall of muscle. Well, not a wall. Jungkook’s chest.
He stands there with his hands in his pockets, head tilted, lips pursed like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Hey!” you shout, startled.
He raises a brow.
“What are you doing?!” you shout again, voice going up an octave.
“I should be the one asking you that—creep,” he teases, backing away with a smirk.
“Yah! How am I a creep?!” you demand, hurrying after him.
“I don’t see him,” he mimics your earlier whisper, his tone mocking. “Stalker vibes.”
Your jaw drops. “Hey! I was talking about Jimin—I mean, not that I care, but—”
Before you can finish, he shuts the door right in your face.
“Jeon Jungkook!” you scream, pounding your fist lightly against the wood. His muffled laugh seeps through from the other side, smug and irritating, which only makes your blood boil hotter.
Jungkook had been holed up in his room doing god knows what. After twenty minutes, you’ve had enough.
“I’m going outside!” you shout loud enough for him to hear through the closed door.
The second you step out of the cottage, a fresh breeze brushes your skin, and you inhale deeply. The air smells earthy and crisp, a stark contrast to your usual city nights. Despite being a party girl at heart, you can’t help but admit the view is gorgeous—trees wrapped in glowing yellow string lights, cottages lined with soft lanterns, and in the middle, the bonfire crackling to life. The faint smoke lingers in the air, mixing with the bass from the speakers blasting music.
Couples are already making out near the trees, laughter erupts from groups reuniting after college, and strangers mingle like they’ve known each other forever. The whole scene feels alive.
You stretch your arms, letting the breeze hit you again, before spotting Taehyung. You stroll over and casually snatch the drink from his hand, taking a sip.
“Lemonade? Seriously?” you snort.
He frowns. “Miss Alcoholic can’t drink anything besides liquor?”
Your jaw drops, and you roll your eyes dramatically. “Wow.”
“Have you run into Hoseok yet?” he asks suddenly.
The mention of Hoseok makes your eyes widen. “No, not yet.”
“Well, guess who I have seen.”
Your head tilts in curiosity. “Who?”
“Park Jimin.”
The name drops like a stone in your stomach, your chest tightening instantly.
“Where?” you ask, and Taehyung just smirks, stepping aside.
That’s when you see him.
Park Jimin. The man you had dated for two years.
He’s sitting on a wooden chair across from another guy, the bonfire blazing between them. His blonde hair glows under the string lights, his black-rimmed glasses making his eyes stand out as he laughs, eyes curving into crescents. A black sweater, black shorts, a watch glinting on his wrist—he looks effortlessly put together, like he doesn’t even have to try. When he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, everything around you fades into silence.
“Okay. This is it. I need to approach him.”
Your feet move before your brain can catch up, carrying you closer. “Jim—” you start to call, but your voice cuts off when a firm hand suddenly grabs your waist.
You stumble back against a broad, muscular chest, your head bumping into solid warmth.
“What the hell?!” you snap, looking up—only to freeze.
Jeon Jungkook.