Chapter Text
Jungkook accepted that he was being used as a pack mule – which was ironic as they had several actual mules to do the heavy lifting. At least he wasn’t yoked to a wagon.
“Hurry up, hurry up!” Seokjin whined, pushing him from behind. “I want to see it first, before anyone else.”
It would be a shame if Seokjin was the first one of their party to see the ocean and the first one chucked off the cliff to experience it firsthand. Instead of giving into his first impulses, Jungkook started to jog, cursing the jibe carrier strapped to his back, slowing him down.
According to Seokjin, none of the pack’s placid and steady mules could be trusted to carry the precious official gifts.
“I ground these spices with my own hands,” Seokjin had explained as he loaded Jungkook up for their two-week journey from their village to the edge of the world. “Only your load-bearing shoulders can be trusted.”
“What about your shoulders?” Jungkook pointed at Seokjin’s unfairly broad frame which only caused Seokjin to smirk as he twisted around to show off shoulders that could balance dinner tables.
“I will be carrying the weight of the entire mission,” Seokjin answered breezily which meant that he was in fact incredibly worried about the success of their expedition. The more jokes he told and the more flippant his answers, the deeper the anxiety ran.
So, Jungkook doubled his speed to match Seokjin’s purposeful stride to the head of line of wagons, horses, and mules. As they caught up to Namjoon, he lifted one eyebrow as they breezed past the standard bearers, the guards, the stock wagons carrying supplies, and the rest of the delegation from the Dongak Mountain pack.
“The ocean,” Jungkook huffed out as an explanation.
Namjoon didn’t say anything in censure, just turned to continue his leisurely conversation with Hoseok because he knew that it was pointless to argue with Kim Seokjin, as everyone knew. It was doubly pointless for Namjoon because the impertinent omega was his fated mate and Namjoon was undeniably weak for him.
“Be careful,” Namjoon called out.
“I’m always careful,” Jungkook called back.
It wasn’t just because he was the pack’s protector – he would do anything for Seokjin. The older omega and his mate were the most important people in Jungkook’s world. He had failed them once and he would never fail them again. He would happily throw himself in front of any arrow, spear, or sword to protect them.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to.
When he wasn’t dreaming of the ocean in the weeks before they set out, Jungkook stayed awake at night thinking of what could go wrong and making plans about what he would do if things turned south. They could be attacked by rogues or bandits on the road, so Jungkook had doubled the guard. There was little he could do if the letter from the Southern Island pack was actually an invitation to an ambush.
“We will just have to hope,” Namjoon said finally in the pack meeting deciding whether they would meet the other pack as requested or stay safe on the mountain. As the Head Alpha, his words ended the debate but they were hardly encouraging. Jungkook knew better than to rely on hope.
“Why are you so slow?” Seokjin gripped. He reached back to clutch at Jungkook’s jeogori and yank him forward.
Jungkook, always anticipating an attack from the pack’s Head Omega, kept his footing. “Maybe because I'm carrying all of your shit?”
“How dare you call my official diplomatic gifts for the Southern Island pack ‘shit’?” Seokjin twisted around like one of their embroidered banners in a northern wind. He pinched at Jungkook’s arm and then slithered out of reach. “I should have you in the stocks for such treasonous disrespect.”
“We don’t have stocks.” Jungkook swatted Seokjin away, running backwards to make sure Seokjin’s fingers couldn’t reach any of his soft or ticklish parts. “Namjoon got rid of them.”
When Namjoon had been crowned the Head Alpha of the Dongak Mountain pack, he’d done away with the old Head Alpha’s punishments. He believed in leading with compassion and understanding.
“I’m sure they’re in one of the old cabins,” Seokjin threatened. “I’m sure we could find them.”
Jungkook knew that they had all been burned. Namjoon had insisted on making Hoseok and Jungkook carry his litter out to the far end of the village to watch them burn. Even though he was still recovering and almost too weak to sit up, he’d demanded it of them despite their protests.
Jungkook had set the fire himself and watched the horrible things that had held Namjoon for so long burn, the sparks flying up among in the snowy pines.
“Do you think…” Jungkook stopped himself before he asked the question that had been sitting in his mind since they'd received the answer from the Southern Island pack. Namjoon could hope, that was who he was. He always hoped that things could be better; Jungkook accepted things as they were. It was what made Namjoon a good leader for the Dongak Mountain pack after years of hopelessness under the old Head Alpha. Namjoon thought that the relationship with the Southern Island pack could be mended after years of estrangement. Jungkook was sure that the meeting would end with at least three casualties.
Seokjin stroked the back of Jungkook’s neck absently as they fell into step together. “Maybe.”
If Namjoon was a dreamer, Seokjin was a realist. It was what made them so powerful: one had the vision and one had the determination and shrewdness to make it happen.
Seokjin was too kind to say that it was likely that Jimin was already dead.
Jungkook picked up his pace, running ahead of Seokjin and leaving him squawking behind him.
His sensitive nose could already pick up the new smell of the ocean: salty and… familiar. For months now, since they’d sent Hoseok to the edge of the world with their letter asking to reestablish ties with the Southern Island pack, Jungkook had dreamed of the ocean. He’d never seen it before; his whole life had been spent on the mountain, running among the trees, tentatively toeing along the rough ledges of the mountain faces, and hunting. It was the only world that he’d ever known.
But for months, his nights had been plagued with the smell of the ocean: salty and sweet. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the relentless sweep of the waves along the sand.
His muscles reminded him to slow his pace or risk running out of energy before they were face to face with the Southern Island delegation. He would have to be on guard – ready to shift and defend if the situation went sour.
And it would turn sour. There was too much bad blood between them – skirmishes over fishing grounds that the old Head Alpha had encroached on and raids on the small beach settlements of the fishermen there for the summer season who had come there for generations.
The old Head Alpha had been like a blacksmith – testing and testing and beating against the sword to see if the steel would break.
Eventually, with a looming war on the horizon (one that the Dongak Mountain pack would have ultimately lost – their boats were slow and clumsy, their alphas tired and weak) the old Head Alpha feigning appeasement had sent their leader a gift: his only son.
“Do with him what you will,” the old Head Alpha said to the emissary of the Southern Island pack who listened to the words spoken in the great hall with a stony expression. “The Head Alpha of the Southern Island pack can do what he wants with him. Mate, whore, servant. It matters not. Take him as a gesture of conciliation between our two packs.”
When the guards had grabbed Jimin by the arms, screaming and crying, and dragged him out of the great hall, Jungkook had stood there, helpless.
His friend, his true friend, was being taken from him and Jungkook hadn’t said a word.
Weak. Spineless. Hardly an alpha.
Jungkook had watched – hot, panicked tears running down his cheeks – as his friend begged for his father to change his mind, begged to let him stay. Jimin was a beautiful, young omega whose scent was a subtle fresh persimmon. The Head Alpha of the Southern Island was old, rumoured to be a cold, cruel man.
When Jimin had presented as an omega, the old Head Alpha had turned his back on him. “Useless. Less than useless.”
To him, Jimin only had one purpose then: as a sacrifice to the Southern Island pack. And Jungkook had sat back and watched it happen.
What sort of an alpha can't protect? What sort of alpha sits back and lets strangers take their omegas?
The old Head Alpha might be dead but his voice never stopped in Jungkook's mind.
"Out of my way, Kookie!"
What would the old Head Omega have thought if he could hear Seokjin now?
The new Head Omega of the Dongak Mountain bodychecked Jungkook out of the way to get the first glimpse of the ocean. He ran up the hill, stopped and put his arms on his hips.
“Hun. Well. That is a lot of water.”
Rubbing his side, Jungkook climbed to stand beside Seokjin and take in his first view of the ocean.
It was dizzying. Everywhere he looked, the blueness stretched out to the horizon. It was as if there were two skies, constantly moving and shifting. And the smell…
Seokjin must have hit him harder then he realized, because Jungkook stumbled as his knees gave out. It was overwhelming – the sweet salt smell and the sand and sparkling water. The scream of the gulls and the violence of the waves against an outcropping of black, volcanic stones filled his ears.
There were at least 50 tents with the colourful banners of the Southern Island pack whipping around the wind. Their camp was impressive; Jungkook could only guess how many wolves they’d brought with them for the meeting. Likely they outnumbered the Dongak Mountain pack.
“The Southern Island wolves must be crazy,” Seokjin said, hugging himself. “You couldn’t give me any amount of gold to get in a boat and sail across it.”
Jungkook didn’t agree but he was used to keeping his thoughts to himself. It would be an adventure, to push out into the vastness of the ocean and trust your wits to find your way back to land again.
“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook said quietly.
“Mmm.” Seokjin’s systematic mind had no time for beautiful things (other than himself). He gave Jungkook an encouraging pat on the arm and then started shouting orders. “Everyone stop.”
Immediately, the entire long and winding delegation came to halt at the order from their Head Omega. Seokjin used Jungkook’s head as a support and climbed on a large boulder on the side of the road. “The way down to the beach is steep. Double-check that everything is tied down and that the animals are secure. All wagons to the front and everyone on foot to the back. That includes the standard bearers. Children with their parents.”
Everyone scurried around to follow the orders except for one person: Council Member Choi. The older alpha waited until Seokjin stepped down and approached him with his hand clasped. No bow.
“Head Omega,” he said with a barely respectful incline of his greasy head. “What will the Southern Island Pack think if their first view of us in so many years is a collection of dirty wagons and donkeys?”
Seokjin’s face was implacable as he looked at the old councilor. “They will thing that we are wise enough to put donkeys before our pride. It is a long, steep road to the beach – no doubt rocky and overgrown as we have not used it in so many years. Our wagons are held together only by rope – not iron or steel. That is the reason that we are here today. Better that the Southern Island pack sees our mules and wagons then those same wagons crushing our children if one of them gets loose.”
Council Member Choi, in the face of Seokjin’s logic, moved his lips in the facsimile of a smile. “How wise of the Head Omega to doubt the Dongak Mountain craftsmanship. And” – the councillor turned to Jungkook – “you are sure to make an excellent impression with a guard who has such… colourful decorations.”
The older alpha glared at Jungkook’s tattooed arm. Self-consciously, Jungkook moved it behind his back.
“I’m afraid that it will be my beautiful face making an excellent first impression. Jungkook is our best guard but I am sure that if there is trouble, you will be the first one to join the fray and even the odds for us should Jungkook need your help,” Seokjin said sweetly. “We are safe with your keen eyes upon us.”
“As you say.” Council Member Choi turned and went back to complain to his donkey.
“I hate him,” Seokjin grumbled once the councillor had returned to his own elaborately decorated wagon. “Tell Namjoon to put him in the stocks.”
Silently, Jungkook agreed.
Some of the old councillors had stayed instead of abandoning the pack when Namjoon took over. In their first meeting after the old Head Alpha was dead, Namjoon was placed on the dais in a litter as he was not strong enough to stand. Seokjin sat on the throne defiantly staring down anyone who challenged his alpha’s authority.
Many had.
A few of the older alphas, set in their ways and unswayed by the vision of a new pack that Namjoon presented them, spit on the ground of the hall and burned their houses as they left. A few had stayed but withdrew into the forest or the edges of their pack lands. It was hard for the old generation to realize that just because they were alphas, it didn’t mean they were automatically right.
And Seokjin had no patience for people who couldn’t let go of the past.
“Where is Namjoon?” Seokjin called as he looked over their pack arranging themselves according to his orders.
Namjoon was collecting shrieking and giggling children in his arms, snatching them as they run away from him in the bushes as he growled like a bear. They screamed in delight as he scooped them up around the waist with his arms and delivered them to their parents were waiting with delighted smiles.
A few omegas watching him, grinned with amusements and more than a little jealousy at the strength of the very taken Head Alpha. It had been a hard-fought battle for him to regain his strength, but Namjoon’s face was bright and joyful as he tossed the children towards their parents’ waiting arms.
Seokjin, however, was more focused on donkey ranking.
“Turnip is the most reliable. Move her to the back.” He urged her driver to switch places with the wagon ahead. “Move Ginger Root to the front – she’s spooked by everything and if she panics, at least she’ll only made an ass of herself. Heh.”
None of the grim-faced wagon drivers seemed to appreciate Seokjin’s humour but they did follow his orders.
“Jungkook, stop trying to slink away from me. Stand here with my gifts and don’t move.” Seokjin, who had eyes in the back of his head, did not even turn around as he spoke. Hands on hips, he surveyed the scene with satisfaction.
“Namjoon. Namjoon, throw that child and get over here. It’s time.”
Face instantly grim, Namjoon handed over the last wriggling toddler to her parents.
Jungkook swallowed, stomach tight and twisting. It was the moment of truth. He would need to be ready for whatever awaited them on the beach. He wished that he could bring his best guards with him, but it would be Jungkook, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin alone.
The terse reply from the Southern Island Pack had been clear: “On the beach. Next full moon. The first meeting will be between the leaders. You may bring one guard. Your people stay on the ridge; our soldiers will be watching. We will decide there if any discussions are needed after that meeting.”
Hoseok’s lips were thin as Namjoon finished the letter. He had delivered the letter quickly – taking only a handful of days to run from the beach to their main village high-up on the mountain.
“I wasn’t sure whether they would even reply,” Hoseok said frankly when he’d returned. Namjoon and Seokjin had sent him to the beach to wait and see if he could spot one of the Southern Island fishermen. They had been spotted closer and closer to the shore over the last few years and there was the chance that they had relaxed their strict policy of no-contact.
“I managed to wave one of them down. She didn’t seem pleased about it, but she did deliver it. Another omega delivered the answer. Didn’t say a word, just handed me the letter.”
Namjoon folded the letter. “It’s better than I’d hoped.”
“Really?” Seokjin picked up the letter and read it again. “It doesn’t even mention the treaty or the trades routes.”
“But they are willing to talk to us, which is something.”
“Better than a bucket of severed fingers, I guess.”
Years of isolation had left their pack behind. When other wolves like Hoseok returned from their journeys to other cities, Jungkook marvelled at their goods.
“Books,” Namjoon would always sigh with envy when Hoseok showed off what he’d brought back from his missions from other packs. “Look at the quality of the paper.”
“Look at the steel on this pot.” Seokjin would spent hours mooning over their pots and knives. Jungkook was more impressed by clothing that didn’t make his skin feel like it was being gnawed on by hundreds of tiny ants.
The old Head Alpha had kept them trapped in the past – by design. They had earned the reputation of being bloodthirsty, duplicitous, and the brutal. Namjoon had tried over the years to change it, but wolves had long memories. The Southern Island pack was the first of the seven packs to accept their invitation to formal talks. The other packs were no doubt waiting to see what the strongest and richest pack made of the new Head Alpha of the Dongak Mountain.
Everything was riding on the success of this mission. And Jungkook was going to make sure that everything was perfect.
If things went well, they could open trade and share technology. Maybe after the tensions eased, Jungkook could ask what happened to Jimin.
But it won't go well, will it? With a pathetic alpha like you as their guard, those Southern Island wolves will take one look at you and rip them apart.
When the donkeys were arranged to Seokjin’s satisfaction, he finally stopped moving long enough for Namjoon to put his arms around him and hug him close. Jungkook turned away; their casual intimacy was hard for him to watch. Not because he was jealous of them but because he was jealous of what they had.
“It’s going to be okay,” Namjoon said, lifting himself up on his toes to kiss the top of Seokjin’s hair. “We’ve done all that we can do.”
“It doesn’t seem like enough.” Seokjin’s voice was muffled by Namjoon’s chest. “Should have made more kimchi.”
“There are twenty jars,” Namjoon reminded him.
“Should have made thirty.”
“You’re worried?”
Seokjin nodded.
“Me too.”
Jungkook turned his back to stare at the ocean and the Southern Island encampment. He could see movement there – guards and soldiers no doubt. Their group had been spotted or there had been scouts who’d been reporting on their movements. Jungkook suspected that the movement he’d been seeing in the forest for the past few days were not just curious birds.
“We will be okay because we have each other. No matter what happens, we’ll be okay because we are together,” Namjoon said with certainty.
“If they try to separate us, I’ll burn the entire camp to the ground,” Seokjin said darkly.
“Let’s try to focus on the optimistic outcome where everyone comes out alive.” Namjoon’s joke landed flat as Seokjin only gripped his hard harder, nails dinging into Namjoon’s arm. “They can’t separate us. Nothing can.”
Jungkook knew this was true. Namjoon and Seokjin had already endured so much but they had been destined to be together and their faith in each other was so powerful that it had topped the old Head Alpha.
The Dongak Mountain pack had few beliefs that had survived the old Head Alpha’s tyranny – he’d done away with training omegas to hunt, having parents raise their own pups, and allowing betas to serve on the council. He’d chipped away their traditions and replaced them with his iron will.
But there was one conviction that he couldn’t shake loose: the belief that fated mates would recognize each other by the sound of their voices. It was built into the founding story of their pack – two wolves separated by a mountain in the middle that heard each other howling on the full moon. Driven by the need to find each other, they had battled the snow and the elements to meet each other on the top of Dongak Mountain.
Jungkook had been with Namjoon when he’d heard Seokjin for the first time. As a young junior guard, he was assigned to trail along the taller alpha like a twitchy, nervous shadow and assist him with his council business. Namjoon, already disdained by the old Head Alpha for his clear leadership and popularity, had been sent to the kitchen under some pretext of investigate mismanagement of food storage by the kitchen staff.
“It’s a trap,” Namjoon calmly explained as they walked from Namjoon’s small cabin to the bright lights of the kitchen.
“Trap?”
“There’s no mismanagement.” Namjoon pointed out a slick of ice on the ground for Jungkook to avoid. “The old Head Alpha only wants a scapegoat to blame for the food shortages. It’s not the kitchen omegas fault - the harvest was pitiful and the forests are empty because of over-hunting. So, he either has to blame the omegas or me for failing to find the culprit.”
Jungkook was agog. Namjoon’s brain was on another level.
“What are you doing to do?”
“Not sure yet.” Namjoon took a deep breath before politely knocking on the kitchen doors and being let in by a pale omega woman.
Jungkook had never been surrounded by so many omegas before. They weren’t allowed to hunt or train to become guards or even speak to alphas. They were so many of them in the kitchens that it made Jungkook dizzy; his nose was so sensitive and there were so many scents that he’d never encountered before.
Namjoon bowed politely and all the omegas bowed lower, silent.
“The Head Cook?”
One of the braver omegas pointed to the ovens.
The old Head Alpha had decided that omegas were only sufficient fit to serve as cook as it wouldn’t tax their smaller, inferior brains. As Jungkook looked around, he realized that this decision was made by someone who didn’t understand the organization and intelligence needed to direct a huge workforce in a complex dance to feed the entire village.
“Put that stock pot down, Eunwoo. Are you trying to dye your skin red? Because there’s enough gochujang in that stew to turn us all into lobsters if you aren’t careful.” The loud, mock-teasing tone carried a gentle warning. “That would be a crab-tastophe.”
The omega cook, tall and poised, erupted into laughter at his own joke. Even Eunwoo’s shoulders shook as he put down the heavy pot.
Jungkook did not laugh because it was not funny.
Neither did Namjoon but for very different reasons.
The alpha was suddenly still, primed as if he’d spotted a rabbit in the snow and all of his instincts were telling him to chase.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whispered, pulling on Namjoon’s sleeve as the laughter died down and the kitchen was quiet as all the workers stopped to stare at the alpha in their midst.
Namjoon didn’t seem capable of moving. He was looking at the omega with the smooth skin and clear features. At least he was still breathing – Jungkook could see his nostrils flaring – but he didn’t say a word as he watching the omega cook slowly realize that the kitchen had gone silent.
“Is there something wrong here?” The omega wiped his hands on the apron deliberately slow and then placed himself between the alphas and the rest of the wary kitchen staff.
“No! No. No?” Jungkook answered as the silence stretched on awkwardly as Namjoon seemed unable to answer.
The omega did not seem convinced. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Not s-sure.”
Namjoon was his superior, older than him by a few years but far ahead of him in the council. Jungkook was a hunter but had twisted his ankle after taking a stumble on the trail of a tricky stag. He was tasked with following around Namjoon like a glorified servant during his recovery – and Jungkook considered himself lucky. The other alpha was considerate, blazingly intelligent, respectful and surprisingly goofy. They got along well.
But now Namjoon seemed to be broken.
“It this his first time in a kitchen?” the omega said with a smirk. “Or meeting an omega? We’re not as scary as the Head Alpha would make us seem.”
“Maybe? No. Of course not.” Jungkook was young enough that he’d been raised by his omega mother. And he’d been friends with omegas like Jimin. He wasn’t afraid but he wasn’t sure what was wrong with Namjoon.
The healers’ building was across the entire village and Namjoon was awfully broad. Jungkook could probably drag him there but…
“I-“ Namjoon blinked rapidly and took a hesitant step forward. Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief as Namjoon regained the power of speech.
The omega raised an eyebrow.
“I… What’s your name?”
The omega’s face transformed. It was a handsome face that was set in a mask of confidence and authority – something that many omegas in their pack had to show to avoid being taken advantage of by the alphas who thought they were entitled as the superior subgender. Omegas with brains and ideas had to develop a hard shell to withstand all the slings and arrows flung at them from above.
But this omega’s expression shifted to something vulnerable and full of wonder. It was so exposed that Jungkook turned away.
“Oh. It’s you.”
Namjoon grinned, eyes crinkled at the side, mouth stretched so wide in a way that Jungkook had never seen before. “Yeah.”
“I’m Seokjin.”
“Namjoon.”
Jungkook had never seen fated mates meet before. He’d heard about it – of course he had. The Mountain Pack's history was full of stories of fated mates who’d recognized each other only by the sound of their voices. It was talked about as if it were the most wonderful thing in the world.
His own parents had been fated mates. His father, a quiet beta, had recognized his mother when he’d visited a nearby village for the first time.
“I knew as soon as I heard her shout at that alpha in the marketplace,” his father chuckled as he told the store to a rapt Jungkook.
But as their pack became more and more isolated, fated mates became rarer. It was more likely that the alphas in the Mountain Pack would just accept whatever omega the Head Alpha deigned to give them, regardless of what the omega thought of it. But fated mates were still considered sacred and blessed. Which is why when the Head Alpha had tried to force Seokjin to mate another older alpha, the entire pack had rallied around them in rebellion.
It was one of the reasons why so many from the Mountain Pack had journeyed with them to meet the Southern Island pack: there was a small chance that their fated mate was among their numbers.
“There’s always a chance that they’ve been waiting for me too!” Eunwoo trilled as they worked side-by-side in the kitchens.
“Doubtful,” Jungkook replied, elbow-deep in kimchi. Seokjin had enlisted the entire pack to help with preparations for the delegation – even Jungkook who was supposed to be protected the Head Alpha and Omega from outside threats went home every night finding cabbage in strange places.
“When did you become so bitter?” Seokjin scolded, crouched over his own mixture. “Maybe there’s a gentle Southern Island omega who also loves staring into space and jumping off cliffs for fun.”
“Doubtful.”
There was no fated mate for Jungkook.
He was sure of this. He knew this in his heart.
Namjoon and Seokjin were perfect for each other: Namjoon was a brilliant leader but helpless with day-to-day details. He was tall and handsome and even Jungkook felt a flicker of attraction looking at his thighs. It was almost impossible not to be drawn to Namjoon – his charisma, charm, and warmth were irresistible.
Seokjin had a certain kind of charm, Jungkook would grudgingly admit if someone had a dagger at his throat. Underneath the bluster and the horrible jokes, Seokjin was a canny observer of other people. Namjoon was intelligent but Seokjin was quick-witted. Where Namjoon would want to build a straight road, Seokjin would devise a clever detour. Namjoon followed rules; Seokjin saw loopholes.
They were built for each other. Fated.
There was no one for Jungkook. He didn’t deserve such a precious gift.
A sorry excuse for an alpha like you? Even if you had a fated mate, they wouldn't want you. Who would want a failure?
Which was why he had devoted himself to his job and now he was called to protect his leaders on one of the most important days of their lives. If they succeeded, it would change the fate of the Dongak Mountain pack. If they failed, Jungkook would fight tooth and nail to make sure his leaders survived.
“We can do this. We’ve done harder things.” Seokjin straightened and pushed Namjoon back. “How hard is it to have a conversation that doesn’t end in bloodshed?”
“With you?” Jungkook said dubiously.
Seokjin’s confidence was clearly back as he chased Jungkook around Namjoon for a few laps.
“They’ve lit the welcome lanterns.” Namjoon pointed to the flicker of lights on a large tent that was distanced from the encampment at the base of the road.
“Time to change.” Seokjin got in one last swipe across Jungkook’s arm. “Can’t have them thinking that we’re beggars.”
“But we are,” Namjoon reminded him.
“Yes. But they don’t need to know that.” Seokjin patted him on the arm and they walked off together.
Jungkook stood alone, watching the sea. It was exactly like he had imagined in his dreams; everything was the same except for the smell. Jungkook sniffed the air. There was the salt and the sand but there was something missing, something that he couldn't put his finger on.