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rispwr · 3 months ago

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Hate you - chapter 1 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : finally here!! lowkey didn't get to my word goal:((

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ‘You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings :

Misunderstood break up, insecurities, mentions of self harms or mental health issues, jk is mean at the start, yelling, sensitive language or words, mentions of family trauma, corporate au, smart (both), mentions of yoongi x oc, mentions of cheating, soon to be ceo! Jk, soon to be ceo! Oc, oc is still named Y/n or {__}, corporate rivals?, fake dating, lack of communication, death of a character, mentions of suicide attempt, platonic relationships with other members

NSFW contents : specified in chapter

series masterlist

The question that lingers in my mind

Namjoon quickly made his way to your house, arms loaded with a tub of your favorite ice cream and a bag filled with your favorite go to alcohol or probably beer. He was your closest friend, practically a brother, and he always seemed to know how to comfort you when you needed it most. The familiar sound of his knuckles tapping against the door echoed through your silent apartment.

"Y/N! I'm hereee!" he called, his voice bright and cheerful, trying to cut through the heaviness of the moment.

"It's open! Just come in," you managed to reply, though your voice cracked, betraying the tears you had been trying to stifle. As soon as the door swung open, you felt a fresh wave of sobs building in your chest.

Namjoon rushed in, his expression shifting from playful to concerned in an instant. "What happened??" he asked, worry etched across his features as he approached your room.

You couldn't find the words, the emotions overwhelming you as you sat on the edge of your bed, crumpled tissues littering the floor around you. Instead, you just continued to cry, your heart breaking all over again.

"Do you want me to call Jungkook??" he offered, but at the mention of his name, your sobs intensified. The thought of hearing his voice was too painful, too fresh.

Namjoon paused, taking a moment to assess the situation. He knelt beside you, turning your head gently to meet his gaze. "Did you guys fight?" he asked softly, as if trying to piece together the fragments of your distress.

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. "Worse," you finally managed to reply, voice trembling. "Joon... he fucking broke up with me. He fucking—fuck. He dumped me."

The air felt heavy with the weight of your confession, and Namjoon's eyes widened in shock. "Why?? What happened??" he pressed, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

"Exactly... I don't know what I did wrong," you sobbed harder, the floodgates opening. "How can he just throw away our memories like that? And he has the fucking audacity to tell me to wait for him" Your words trailed off, and you buried your face in your hands, unable to contain the wave of sorrow crashing over you.

Namjoon instinctively pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, it's okay. Just let it out," he murmured, gently rubbing your back as you tried to cool down.

After a few moments, you pulled away slightly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "Let's go to a club later, Joon. Maybe I'll find someone better there," you suggested, the anger in your voice barely masking the hurt.

"No, Y/N. You are not getting knocked up or catching dirty diseases from filthy men in clubs," he replied firmly, though there was a hint of a smile at your reckless idea. "Let's just drink or hang out today, yeah?"

You considered it for a moment. "We can bring friends too if you want," he suggested, gauging your reaction.

Flashback

The moment you received Jungkook's breakup text, your heart sank. The message was blunt, cold, and devoid of any emotion—just like the man you once thought would love you forever. With shaking hands, you stared at your phone, disbelief coursing through you. After two years of shared dreams and plans, he had chosen to end things with a simple text. It felt unreal, like a cruel joke played by the universe.

You had to see him, to confront him. You couldn't let this end without hearing his voice, without understanding why. So you drove to his penthouse, each turn of the road amplifying the dread that clutched at your heart.

When you arrived, you barely registered the grandeur of his place—the sleek furniture, the breathtaking view of the city that had once felt like a backdrop to your love story. Instead, all you could think about was the weight of Jungkook's decision and the emptiness that came with it.

You stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a memory. Your footsteps echoed in the spacious hallway as you made your way to his room. You could feel your heart racing, a mixture of anger, confusion, and sorrow bubbling up inside you.

"Y/N... I told you we're done," Jungkook's voice was strained as he stood with his back to you, facing the window. His shoulders were tense, and he seemed unwilling to meet your gaze.

"Is that really how you're going to do this? You sent me a text. A fucking text, Jungkook! You didn't tell me anything." Your voice rose, a sharp edge of frustration cutting through the pain.

He turned slightly, just enough for you to see the profile of his face, marred by uncertainty and conflict. "Y/N... I need space, alright?!" The sudden snap in his tone took you aback, his frustration spilling over.

"Space? Why?" Your voice cracked, the gravity of his words sinking in. "What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?" Each question felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veil of composure you had left.

"Was there someone el—" Before you could finish, Jungkook stepped forward, closing the gap between you in an instant. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his lips onto yours. The kiss was desperate, consuming, as if he were trying to devour you, to erase the reality of what was happening.

You melted into him, instinctively wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your heart raced, conflicting emotions swirling inside you. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled away, breathless and tearful.

"Jungkook... baby, please, no..." you begged, your voice trembling as the tears you had been holding back began to spill over. "Don't do this to us."

"I think it's time we take a break, Y/N." His voice was softer now, but it carried an unyielding finality. "I'll come back to you once I'm all better and perfect for you. Hm?" He brought your face up gently, forcing you to look into his eyes, those familiar brown depths that had always felt like home.

You nodded silently, your heart breaking at the thought of being apart. The weight of his words crushed you, leaving you feeling small and defeated.

Minutes passed in silence, a heavy tension settling between you. It felt as if the air had thickened, each breath becoming a struggle as you both tried to navigate the emotional turmoil that had engulfed you.

"I just... I don't understand," you finally whispered, trying to process the whirlwind of feelings. "We were happy, weren't we? What changed?"

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. "It's not that simple, Y/N. I don't want to drag you down with me. I need to figure things out... for both of us."

"But I want to help you! I want to be there for you!" you protested, tears streaming down your cheeks, mascara running down in dark streaks. "Why can't you see that?"

"Because sometimes love isn't enough," he replied, his voice strained with emotion. He stepped back, distancing himself as if he were afraid of the intensity of what was happening between you.

The moment stretched painfully, the silence growing heavier. You felt as if you were teetering on the edge of a precipice, unsure of how to step back from this chasm. You wanted to scream, to shake him and make him see reason, but all you could do was stand there, vulnerable and exposed.

"can you do something for me baby?" Jungkook said, his expression softening for a moment. "just- just wait for me. i'll be back once i'm all ready, better and fit for you. can you be okay with that baby?"

The thought of moving on without him felt unbearable. "How can you ask me that? How can you just walk away and expect me to be okay?" Your voice was barely a whisper, each word laced with sorrow.

"Because I love you," he said, and it felt like a knife to your heart. "And I don't deserve you. his is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, i'll be back once i finally deserve you."

The finality of his words hung in the air, suffocating you. It felt like the walls were closing in, and you struggled to breathe.

"I can't believe you're doing this," you murmured, feeling your heart splintering into a million pieces. "I thought we were in this together."

"Y/N... please," he said, his voice breaking slightly. He stepped closer again, his hands cupping your face. "I need you to trust me. This is what's best for both of us."

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any flicker of hesitation. But all you saw was resolve, and it shattered you. You couldn't fight against him anymore; it felt like trying to hold back the tide.

"Just... go," you finally said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "If this is what you want, then go. But don't expect me to be here when you come back."

With that, you turned away, feeling like a ghost in the place that had once felt like home. The silence followed you as you walked out of his room, your heart heavy with the weight of your shattered dreams.

The drive back to your penthouse was a blur. You could barely see through the tears streaming down your face, mascara staining your cheeks. Each turn felt like a reminder of what you had lost. You replayed the moments you had shared, the laughter, the plans, the way he had looked at you with such warmth. Now, it was all gone—an illusion shattered by a single text.

When you arrived at your penthouse, the familiar surroundings offered little comfort. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating you with memories that now felt tainted. You dropped your keys on the table, the sound echoing through the silence.

You collapsed onto the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if trying to hold together the pieces of your broken heart. The emptiness inside you ached, a deep, gnawing pain that refused to let go. You could feel the tears coming again, an uncontrollable wave of sorrow crashing over you.

Why couldn't he see that you were enough? That you wanted to fight for him, for the love you had built together?

2 weeks

It had been two weeks since Jungkook broke up with you—two weeks of silence that felt louder than any argument you'd ever had. Two weeks without his messages lighting up your phone, his reassuring voice calling you just to check in, or his sweet words that somehow always knew how to soothe the deepest parts of you. The absence was a void, consuming and hollow, yet sharp at the edges, cutting into you with every reminder.

You missed the little things. How he would text you "good morning" without fail, his sleepy voice leaving voicemails if he couldn't reach you. The silly pictures he'd send to make you laugh on your roughest days, and his small, unexpected gifts. They'd come in glossy packages, ribbons you'd undo with eager hands only to reveal something so extravagantly expensive you'd feel your heart swell and your voice catch, telling him he didn't have to spend so much. But he would just smile, his hand resting gently against your cheek, saying, "You deserve to be treated for what you're worth. And you're worth millions... billions. So much more than that."

No amount of words had convinced him that you didn't need all those grand gestures. It was his presence, his love, that was priceless to you. He was what you wanted, all you needed. But now, without him, even those little things he left behind seemed like they were mocking you, a painful reminder of promises unkept.

Two weeks should have been long enough to let go, to start piecing together the shattered remains of your heart. You told yourself every day that it was time to move on, to forget. But your heart betrayed you every night as you lay in bed, reaching instinctively to the other side where he used to lie. The sheets were cold now, his scent slowly fading. And with each reminder, a thousand questions echoed in your mind.

Why was it so easy for him to leave? Why did he walk away so quickly while you were still drowning in the memories he left behind?

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the ache that rose in your throat. This wasn't healthy. You couldn't go on like this, holding onto fragments of a love that no longer existed. Standing up, you made your way to your closet, determination stiffening your resolve. If he could move on so easily, then so could you.

Opening the doors, you took in the rows of clothes neatly hung, interspersed with items that weren't yours—hoodies, shirts, and jackets that he'd left behind after countless nights spent together. You reached out, fingers brushing over a worn T-shirt of his, the fabric soft and familiar beneath your touch. You could still remember the last time he'd worn it, his arms wrapped around you as you lay in his embrace, your head resting against his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

But that was then. And now... now it was time to let go.

You started pulling his clothes out one by one, each article feeling heavier than the last. It was almost a ritual, each item you took out a small act of defiance, a reclaiming of the space he'd left behind. As the pile grew, so did the anger simmering within you. It bubbled up, breaking through the sadness, sharpening into something fierce and raw.

"Fuck you, Jungkook," you muttered under your breath, barely realizing that you'd spoken aloud. "For making me love you and then leaving me like this." The words tumbled out, each one laced with the bitterness that had been building up inside you.

With each piece you tossed into the box, the weight on your chest seemed to lessen just a bit. You threw in the hoodies he'd lent you on cold nights, the shirts you'd worn as pajamas, each one carrying the ghost of his touch. You wanted them out of your sight, out of your life.

Once his clothes were gone, you moved on to the other things—the little keepsakes he'd left behind. His toothbrush next to yours, his cologne bottle half-empty on the dresser, the small stack of books he'd borrowed and never returned. You swept it all into the box, each item feeling like a wound you were finally closing.

But as you finished packing everything, your hand brushed against something cold, and you froze. It was the necklace—the one he'd given you on that perfect night when he'd promised you forever. Your fingers trembled as you held it up, the delicate chain glinting in the light. You remembered how he'd clasped it around your neck, his fingers grazing your skin as he whispered, "This is my promise to you. I'm never leaving, no matter what."

The weight of his broken promise pressed down on you, and before you could stop it, the tears spilled over. You clutched the necklace tightly, the cool metal digging into your palm as you struggled to hold yourself together.

Why had he left? Why hadn't he fought for you, for the life you'd planned together? You'd given him everything, yet he'd walked away as if it meant nothing.

Your knees buckled, and you sank down onto the floor, sobs wracking your body as the pain you'd tried so hard to contain came rushing to the surface. You felt like you were drowning, lost in a sea of grief and anger and confusion. It was as if every part of you that had once been whole was now fractured, broken beyond repair.

In the midst of your tears, you fumbled for your phone, your fingers shaking as you scrolled through your contacts. Without thinking, you dialed Namjoon's number, needing the comfort of someone who understood, who could help anchor you in the storm of emotions.

The phone rang, and after a few moments, his familiar voice answered. "Yes, Y/N? Is everything okay?" His tone was warm, tinged with concern, and it only made the tears flow harder.

"Joon..." you choked out, trying to steady your breathing. "Why—why is this so hard? I just... I just wish there was something more I could hate him for. Something to make this easier, to stop myself from loving him..." Your voice broke, a fresh wave of sobs escaping as the words you'd been holding in finally spilled out.

"Oh, Y/N..." Namjoon's voice softened, filled with empathy. "He's an asshole for doing this to you, babe. You didn't deserve any of it. I'm so sorry." There was a pause, and then he added gently, "Want me to come over? I can bring some ice cream, or we can just sit and talk if you need."

For a brief moment, the thought of having him there was comforting. But you shook your head, even though he couldn't see it. "No... I'm alright. I just... I just needed to hear your voice," you murmured, the exhaustion in your voice evident.

"Okay," he said quietly, and you could hear the sadness in his tone, the frustration that he couldn't do more to help. "But if you change your mind, I'm just a call away. Promise me you'll take care of yourself?"

"Yeah..." you replied softly, the words barely more than a whisper.

Before he could say more, you ended the call, feeling a pang of guilt. Namjoon had always been there for you, a steady presence in your life, yet right now, not even his reassurance could ease the ache inside you.

You looked down at the necklace still clutched in your hand, your fingers loosening around it. It felt heavy, a tangible reminder of the promises he'd broken, the love that had once felt so real. Slowly, you unclasped it from around your neck, feeling a strange sense of finality as you placed it gently in the box, on top of everything else.

The last piece of him, gone.

flashback

Paris was like a living dream. The city's air felt soft, carrying the scent of fresh bread, blooming flowers, and that slight trace of romance found only here. Jungkook's hand held yours as you both strolled down cobblestone streets, the lights of the city casting a warm, golden glow on the world around you. It was your first anniversary, and Jungkook had insisted on making it memorable.

"The city suits you," he murmured, his eyes soft as they roamed over your face. You squeezed his hand in response, feeling so grateful to be here with him.

"It's... perfect," you breathed, taking in the architecture, the people, and, most of all, him.

That day, as you both wandered through Paris, something caught your eye in a small shop window—a necklace, delicate yet striking, in the shape of a butterfly. You stopped in front of it, drawn in by the design's subtle elegance. But you were careful not to linger too long, as you weren't one to ask for material things. Growing up, you were used to having everything handed to you without a word, and you always felt a tinge of guilt about it. It made you appreciate thoughtfulness over wealth.

Jungkook noticed the way your eyes lingered, though you quickly looked away. He smiled to himself, filing the moment away in his mind. You had no idea that he'd already decided on a plan.

That night, back in the hotel room, you were peacefully asleep after a long day. With your steady breathing as his only company, Jungkook slowly and carefully slipped out of bed, glancing at you one last time to make sure you were truly asleep. He moved quietly, slipping out the door and into the Parisian night, with a mission in mind.

Jungkook made his way back to the boutique. The shopkeeper, who was just about to close up, welcomed him with a knowing smile as he walked in.

"Changed your mind about the necklace, sir?" she asked, recognizing him.

"Yes," Jungkook replied, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I'd like it custom-made."

He explained his idea: the initials "K.Y." and "J.JK" engraved on the back, where only the two of you would know. The butterfly itself meant more to him than he could easily say; it was a symbol of transformation and new beginnings. Y/N had helped him see that change didn't have to be terrifying, that it could be a journey to something better. She was the one who had encouraged him to open his heart and embrace the unknown. In a way, she had transformed him. The necklace was not just a gift; it was his heart, crafted in gold, for her to wear close to hers.

after paying. he held the necklace in his hand, feeling a wave of excitement wash over him as he admired the initials engraved so delicately. He could already imagine your face when you'd see it, and he smiled to himself as he headed back to the hotel, hiding the box carefully before slipping back into bed beside you.

On the last night of the trip, Jungkook took your hand, guiding you to a spot near the Eiffel Tower. The sky was a rich, deep blue, and the lights of the tower illuminated everything around you, casting a golden glow that felt almost magical. You were mesmerized, feeling a sense of peace and happiness that only deepened with him beside you.

Jungkook stopped in front of you, letting go of your hand to reach into his pocket. "Close your eyes," he whispered, his voice warm.

You laughed, your heart fluttering. "What? You're not proposing or something, are you?" you joked, cheeks warming as you looked up at him.

"Not yet," he replied softly, his eyes holding a promise, "but close. I'll definitely do that one day, baby." His words sent a shiver through you, and you obeyed, closing your eyes as your heart raced.

"Okay, open your eyes," he said, a note of excitement in his voice.

You opened them, and there it was—the butterfly necklace you'd seen on the first day, resting in his open palm. "Oh my god...!" You squealed, your hands flying to your mouth. The necklace was even more beautiful up close, the delicate wings catching the light perfectly. You launched yourself at Jungkook, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "I love you! I can't believe you did this!"

Jungkook laughed, holding you close and watching the pure joy on your face. "Look at the back," he said gently, guiding the necklace to face you.

You turned it over and gasped as you read the initials, your own and his, engraved into the back. The sight of it brought tears to your eyes, the meaning behind the gesture sinking in deeply. "Oh my god, baby..." You could barely speak, your heart full.

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, smiling softly. "It's a butterfly, like you, because you helped me through my fear of change. You showed me that change can be beautiful, that letting go and starting new... can lead to amazing things. You opened my heart to new beginnings, and the best beginning you gave me... was with you."

"Jungkook..." Tears brimmed in your eyes, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him, taking in every detail of the person who had become your whole world. You reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, then to his nose, and both his cheeks, making him giggle.

"I love you," you whispered against his cheek, "so, so much. Thank you for this—for everything."

back to present

As you closed the lid, you felt a strange sense of emptiness. The box sat there, filled with fragments of a love that had once been everything to you, and yet now, it was nothing more than a collection of memories you were desperate to forget.

For the rest of the night, you sat in silence, the weight of the loss settling over you like a heavy blanket. You wanted to hate him, to erase every trace of him from your mind. But no matter how hard you tried, his presence lingered, a haunting reminder of what you'd once had and what you'd lost.

I'll get over him, you told yourself, though the words felt hollow, as if you were trying to convince yourself of something that wasn't true. But maybe, just maybe, if you repeated it enough, one day it would be real.

3 months

The days blurred together after the breakup. Three months. For three whole months, you'd convinced yourself that this hatred for Jungkook was all you needed to numb the pain. At first, it worked, almost like a coping mechanism—every time you felt that ache in your chest, you would remind yourself of the reasons to be angry, to stay distant. But no matter how many times you reminded yourself of the anger, it was never enough to cover the emptiness, the loneliness that slowly crept in, hollowing out pieces of you.

You were isolating yourself from everyone who tried to reach you, pushing them away as if they were intruders. Namjoon had called and texted every day, and Jennie had stopped by repeatedly, but you never opened the door. Even Seokjin had come over with Sana to try and pull you out of this haze. Yet you felt too far gone. You loved Jungkook. Too much. And every time you thought of him, it felt like a fresh wound tearing open.

Then came that Thursday morning, the first rays of light slipping through your curtains, though you could barely feel them. You'd spent another night tossing and turning, haunted by memories of him. And something within you just... broke. You reached for the bottle of sleeping pills by your bedside, not thinking, just wanting the pain to fade. One pill, then two, then three, then more. You felt yourself drifting, the world becoming softer, quieter.

But the next thing you knew, you were waking up, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room. It felt like a dream, surreal and hazy, until you began to focus on the faces surrounding you—your family, looking terrified and heartbroken, Namjoon with his head in his hands, Jennie crying softly beside him, and Seokjin gripping Sana's hand tightly. And then, your gaze landed on him. Jungkook was there, his eyes red and swollen, a look of devastation etched across his face. They were all worried sick.

The night before, Namjoon had wanted to surprise you with Sana. They'd brought over your favorite snacks and movies, hoping to lift your spirits. But when they arrived, your place was silent. Namjoon had called your name, but there was no answer. That's when they found you, lying on your bed, your hand loosely clutching the bottle of pills. Sana had screamed for him, her voice trembling and desperate. "Namjoon! Call 911! Please, I beg you!" She was sobbing as she held you in her arms, trying to shake you awake, her own heart breaking with each unresponsive second. "Y/N, please... please wake up!"

Namjoon's hands had shaken as he called for help, explaining the situation to the paramedics, his own voice cracking as he fought to stay composed. They both were crying, praying as they waited for the ambulance, the moments dragging on as they feared the worst.

Now, seeing you awake, a mixture of relief and heartbreak filled the room. But the silence was thick, tension brewing as everyone grappled with what had almost happened. It was Jungkook who broke it, his voice raw, trembling with both anger and hurt.

"Y/N, are you... are you insane?" he snapped, his fists clenched, his face a mixture of anger and fear. "Do you have any idea what you almost did?"

You felt your heart clench, the pain resurfacing, sharper now in his presence. "So what, Jungkook?" you replied bitterly, your voice shaking. "Why do you even care? You didn't care about my feelings when you decided to just leave me. You left, Jungkook. You left, and now you're acting like you care?"

The words spilled out before you could stop them, each one filled with months of pain and anger that had been bottled up. Jungkook opened his mouth, about to say something, but you cut him off.

"Leave, Jungkook. Just leave."

The finality in your words hit him like a punch. He froze, staring at you, his face contorted with hurt. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. The door shut behind him with a loud thud that seemed to echo through the silence, leaving everyone else frozen in place, tears streaming down their faces. Jennie clung to Seokjin, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, while Namjoon looked at you, his own face wet with tears as he fought to hold himself together.

It was only then that the weight of everything you'd put them through hit you, the reality of how close they'd come to losing you. They sat in silence, each one lost in their own thoughts, grieving for the person they'd almost lost, the pain written across their faces as they struggled to find the right words.

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s4svnn · 16 days ago

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Limelight . JJK oneshot (1)

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; After five years of chasing her dreams abroad, Iris returns to her small hometown, eager to embrace a fresh start with a new degree and a quiet apartment. But the peace she craves is quickly shattered by the relentless sounds of punches and grunts echoing from the apartment next door. What starts as a tense confrontation soon sparks a fiery chemistry neither of them expected as she comes face to face with her high school crush, now a determined, world-renowned boxer. As their paths cross once more, Iris can't help but wonder if this unexpected encounter might lead to a chance at the love she once thought was out of reach.

↳ pairing; Boxer Jungkook x reader

↳ strangers to lovers, rekindling old flames, fluff

Kofi

Next part

Part One

The air felt different as I stepped off the bus and onto the weathered streets of my small hometown. There was a distinct sense of familiarity in the way the morning sun reflected off the old brick buildings, as if they too were caught in the same cycle of nostalgia that was now rushing through me. I hadn’t been back here in five years, but as I walked, it was as if time had stood still.

The same rows of houses stood proudly on either side, their paint faded and chipped in places but still standing strong. The distant hum of daily life—the chatter from the corner café, the low murmur of passing cars—reminded me of my past, and yet I felt like a stranger walking through it all.

I adjusted the strap of my bag, the weight of my decisions pulling me forward. I was different now—more polished, more certain. But it wasn’t lost on me that coming back to this place felt like returning to the beginning, like I was revisiting the person I used to be and wondering if I could ever fully shed that skin.

My new apartment was just a few blocks away. It was modern, sleek, nothing like the quaint little house I had grown up in. I had worked hard for this moment—the quiet space that would become mine. I couldn’t wait to start over, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive about what I was really walking into.

As I approached my building, I caught a glimpse of someone ahead of me on the sidewalk. They were walking towards me, and even from a distance, I recognized the familiar gait.The memory of our old friendship came rushing back—quiet afternoons spent in the park, nights watching movies, and those long, aimless conversations we used to have.

We hadn’t kept in touch much after high school, each of us pursuing different paths, but something about seeing him again felt like an anchor.

“Iris?” Kai’s voice was full of disbelief, as if the sight of me standing there was something too surreal to process. It echoed the same warmth and sincerity I remembered from all those years ago, that easy kindness he carried—something that was just naturally a part of him..

"Hey," I said, my voice a little too soft, feeling like I hadn’t quite figured out how to say the words I’d been holding onto all this time. I set my suitcase down and stepped closer, the familiar beat of my heart quickening with excitement. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him in a hug, the kind that only old friends could share—tight, almost urgent, as if trying to make up for lost time.

His embrace was warm, his body solid and real, and for a second, I could almost pretend nothing had changed, that we were still the two kids who spent lazy afternoons talking about everything and anything at all.

When we pulled away, I could see the surprise etched across his face, his brow furrowed slightly as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. "You’re back?" he asked, his voice edged with something close to awe. "I didn’t even know you were coming."

I smiled, the rush of nostalgia flooding through me. "It’s a surprise," I said, my words coming out almost breathless. I hadn’t even told my parents yet—wanted to see their faces when I walked through the door. "I thought I’d catch everyone off guard."

"Well, wow," Kai said, shaking his head slowly. His eyes still didn’t quite believe it. "I never thought you’d come back. Shit. I’m honestly in shock right now."

"Yeah, I didn’t think I’d come back either," I said, my voice softening as I glanced around the street, as if trying to anchor myself in the moment. "It feels strange but good, I think I just needed a change. You know how it is."

We stood there for a long moment, the weight of years between us hanging in the quiet space that neither of us knew how to fill. Five years had passed, five years filled with new experiences, new lives. But somehow, the world around us felt the same—unchanged. And yet, we both knew, deep down, that we weren’t the same. Neither of us had stayed in place.

"No yeah of course, so what’ve you been up to?" Kai asked, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. There was a curiosity in his voice, but it was tinged with something else—a hint of pride, maybe, or maybe just the simple joy of hearing my story. "I saw something about you passing the bar a while ago. But other than that I don’t really know much."

A small, satisfied smile tugged at my lips. I had worked for this, fought for it. It wasn’t something I had shared with anyone outside of close circles, but now, talking to him, it felt like I could finally let it spill out. "Yeah, I graduated from law school a few years ago," I said, letting the weight of the words settle. "Been working at a firm in the city. It's been hectic, but it’s definitely paid off." I paused, glancing up at him, the excitement bubbling up again. "And now I’m done with school.Thought it was time to take a break and come home."

Kai’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. "Wow," he said, his voice infused with admiration. "A lawyer, huh? I always knew you’d go on to do big things."

It felt good to hear that—those words that meant more than just approval. They carried weight, because Kai had always been the one who knew me best back then. He knew how I dreamed of doing something meaningful, something big, and hearing him say it out loud made it real. "Well, it hasn’t been easy," I said, with a small shrug. "A lot of long nights and even longer days, but I made it. And now, I’m going to start a new chapter in my new apartment."

Kai’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. "Wait, you’re not staying with your folks?" His voice rose an octave, disbelief taking over. "Where are you staying, then?"

I couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at my lips. It felt good to let it out, to let him see the strides I had taken. "The Heights," I said, my voice almost smug, though I didn’t mean it to be.

His expression froze for a moment, as if processing what I’d just said. His eyes flicked down to the suitcase at my feet and then back to me, and I could see the shock register. "Hold on, The Heights?" he asked, his voice incredulous. "As in the most expensive apartment complex in the whole city, that The Heights, seriously?"

I nodded, feeling a rush of pride course through me. "Yeah," I said, my voice steady but tinged with satisfaction. "That’s the one. It’s perfect Kai, I just need some peace and quiet, no more fighting over the bathroom or having to hide snacks."

Kai blinked at me, his mouth dropping open. "Damn sis I knew lawyers made a lot of money but shit that place is hella expensive, you gotta show me around some time."

I shrugged, trying to downplay the growing sense of accomplishment in my chest. "Oh I definitely will, turns out when you’re a corporate lawyer you can make things like that work. So I thought why not, it’s a good investment and I’ve worked hard for it."

Kai stared at me for a moment, shaking his head as if he was still trying to catch up. "God, I can’t believe this," he said, a small laugh escaping him. "I wish those stupid bitches from highschool could see you now, they’d shit their pants.."

"Thanks, Kai," I said, unable to wipe the smile from my face. There was something comforting about hearing his approval, about having him see me, finally, as the person I’d become. "It feels like it’s been a long time coming."

"Well, if anyone deserves it, it’s you," Kai said, his voice warm with sincerity. There was no mistaking the pride in his words, and for a moment, everything felt right again. "I’m happy for you. Really."

"Thanks." I glanced down at my watch, suddenly aware that I was running out of time. "Shit, I’d love to keep talking but I should probably get going, I need to unpack and get settled in. But let’s definitely catch up soon, okay?"

"Of course," Kai replied, flashing that easy grin that I remembered so well. "Let me know if you need anything. And we are definitely grabbing a drink sometime soon. Don’t forget that."

"For sure," I said, giving him a small wave. As I turned to walk toward my new apartment, I felt a mix of emotions settle in my chest. A sense of finality, maybe, or maybe it was more like relief. I was saying goodbye to something—some version of myself—and stepping into a new chapter of my life.

And yet, the entire time, Kai’s presence lingered in my mind, like a bridge between the past and the future. The years had changed us both in ways we couldn’t quite articulate, but somehow, in that brief moment of connection, we had found something that was still us.

The apartment complex was a far cry from anything I’d ever imagined for myself growing up in this small town. As I stepped through the front doors, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of luxury settle around me. The lobby was an open, airy space that stretched far beyond what seemed necessary, with towering windows that let in the soft afternoon light, casting everything in a golden hue.

The floors were polished marble—so smooth and reflective that they almost looked like they could have been an extension of the sky. Everything screamed opulence, from the sleek, modern furnishings to the delicate touches of gold and glass accents that shimmered subtly in the sunlight.

The scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air, their fragrance light and sweet, adding an almost surreal quality to the space. Soft classical music played from hidden speakers, filling the silence with a calmness that seemed intentional—designed to soothe and impress. A large chandelier made of crystal dangled from the ceiling, its delicate prongs glistening as they caught the light.

Everything in the lobby exuded a sense of wealth—this wasn’t the kind of place someone like me would’ve been familiar with just five years ago. The kind of place where only the elite, the successful, the untouchable people lived. I felt out of place, yet at the same time, a rush of pride swelled inside me.

I approached the front desk, trying to act casual, even though every part of me felt like I was in a dream. The receptionist, impeccably dressed in a minimalist black suit, smiled warmly as I approached. “Welcome, Miss Iris,” she said, her voice as polished as everything around us. She handed me the key to my new apartment with a grace that made the whole interaction feel almost theatrical.

“If you need anything at all, please let me know. I’d be happy to help.” Her words were polite, professional, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was so used to dealing with people like this—the ones who belonged here. The ones who fit into the sleek, perfectly curated world of The Heights.

“Thank you,” I said, offering a polite smile before heading toward the elevator. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of anticipation as I pressed the button for the top floor. The building was stunning, and everything about it felt like the next step in my life.

The elevator doors opened to the top floor with a soft chime, and I stepped out, looking down the hall to my door. As I walked toward it, I tried to imagine what my new life would look like here—what it would feel like to truly call this place home. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, immediately struck by the spaciousness of the apartment.

It was everything I had hoped for: clean, modern, filled with light and possibility. The windows offered a breathtaking view of the town, its familiarity mixing with the excitement of this new chapter.

I dropped my suitcase, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease for the first time in days. I walked through the apartment, taking in the details—the sleek furniture, the open kitchen, the large windows that seemed to stretch out forever. It felt like the first place I had ever truly owned, and it was mine.

Without thinking, I ran across the living room, a sense of childlike wonder rising in me. I laughed quietly to myself, overwhelmed by how perfect everything was. I let myself flop onto the couch, staring at the ceiling and exhaling a long, contented breath.

Just as I finally began to settle in, letting the soft hum of the apartment calm my nerves, a sudden thud shattered the peace. My body went stiff, every muscle tightening instinctively. The sound was so loud, so jarring, that it felt as if the walls themselves had trembled in response. I sat up straight, my pulse quickening as I tried to make sense of what I’d just heard.

Then, a steady, rhythmic pounding followed—a heavy thwack, thwack, thwack against what I could only imagine was the wall separating us. The sound reverberated through the floor and up into my chest, like the thundering pulse of something alive, relentless.

There was a brief pause, a brief silence that made my skin crawl. And then, a deep grunt echoed through the air, followed by more pounding—louder now, faster, as though someone was throwing their entire body into each strike. It was impossible to ignore, impossible to pretend it wasn’t happening.

I furrowed my brow, feeling the heat of irritation spread through my veins. I hadn’t expected to hear anything so aggressive. The noise rattled through the apartment like a storm crashing through a quiet night, and for a split second, I found myself holding my breath, waiting for it to stop. But it didn’t.

---------------------------------

Several hours later, the noise hadn’t ceased. If anything, it had grown more persistent, more punishing. The sound of fists pounding against something—hard and fast—seemed to rattle every corner of the apartment. I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my body tense and unwilling to relax, even as the sheets shifted beneath me.

Every thud felt like it was reverberating through the floorboards, through the walls, like some kind of invasion of my very space. Each hit landed with a sickening resonance that seemed to crawl beneath my skin, digging its way into my patience.

I couldn’t take it any longer.

I threw the covers off, frustration boiling in my chest. I needed to sleep. I deserved to sleep in peace for once, and yet here I was, trapped in an endless loop of noise that refused to stop. My thoughts spun with annoyance, frustration, and a growing sense of helplessness. What kind of person does this? What kind of neighbor keeps someone awake like this, pounding away like a damn animal? It was disrespectful and I was done being the silent victim of it.

I stood up, the cool floor against my bare feet grounding me for a moment as I walked toward the door, trying to think through my next steps. The thought of confronting this loud, inconsiderate stranger sent a mixture of dread and determination through me, but I was past the point of simply ignoring it.

I changed into my silk pajamas—soft and comforting, but completely incongruent with the sense of agitation I was carrying, the fabric slid against my skin as I adjusted the top and pulled the shorts on. With every step I took toward the door, I could feel my heart pounding louder than the noise. By the time I reached it, my resolve had solidified. This wasn’t just about sleep anymore. This was about respect. It couldn’t just play nice and let this idiot walk all over me.

I stepped forward and knocked. Hard. The sound of my fist hitting the door felt like it would be enough to wake the dead, but when I stood there, waiting for a response it was met with silence. Nothing. My teeth clenched as I slammed my fist against the door again, harder this time, trying to shake whatever the hell this person was doing in there, to make them hear me. Still nothing. I could feel my patience unraveling with each passing second. The pounding continued—louder, faster, more frantic, as if mocking my attempt to get their attention.

I was at the brink. Frustrated, I pressed my shoulder against the door and used my full weight to push against it. Nothing. It was locked. But then, just as I was about to lose it, the door swung open suddenly—too fast—and my body lurched forward, caught off guard. I crashed straight into something warm and solid—someone, to be exact.

Strong arms wrapped around me instinctively, holding me steady as I stumbled forward.

“Are you okay?” The voice that spoke was low and smooth, laced with concern and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

I blinked, a little dazed from the collision, but I quickly recovered, stepping back with a nervous laugh to smooth out the front of my silk pajamas. "Yeah. Sorry about that." I glanced up at the man, trying to pull myself together. "I’m your new neighbor," I said, forcing the words out in a business-like manner, but something about the situation made it feel surreal.

And then I met his eyes. Everything stopped. The room, the noise, my racing thoughts—they all faded away, eclipsed by the shock of recognition. Standing before me, looking like some kind of vision, was Jungkook. My highschool crush, and the most popular guy in school who had been a distant figure back then, someone so far out of my reach that I never once considered the possibility of us crossing paths..

But now—he was standing there, inches away from me, with a body built from hours of training and discipline. His black t-shirt stretched across his chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps, revealing tattoos that snaked down his arms, some intricate, some abstract. His dark hair was tied back in a messy bun, and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. His jawline was sharp, his eyes intense, and his gaze held a curiosity that made my stomach twist in an unexpected, unsettling way.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place, completely caught off guard by the man in front of me. And then, as if to snap me back into reality, he spoke again, this time his tone was cold and a little impatient. "Do you need something?" he asked, his words clipped. "I'm in the middle of a training session."

I blinked, finding my voice again, though it was laced with irritation. "Actually, yes," I shot back, the tension I’d been holding onto spilling out. “I need you to keep it down. I can’t sleep with all that noise you’re making. It’s disrespectful to your neighbors.”

The words left my mouth sharper than I’d intended, and for a second, I wasn’t sure if I cared. He had no right to be this loud. No right to make me feel like I was the one in the wrong.Jungkook looked at me, his expression unreadable for a beat. But something flickered behind his eyes—an irritation that mirrored my own.

The silence between us hung thick in the air, charged with something I couldn’t put my finger on. Was he really this rude? This inconsiderate? I’d come here, expecting at least some understanding, but instead, I felt like I was standing on the wrong side of an unspoken line.

“No.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the burning irritation that was quickly flooding through me. “No,” I repeated, my voice still steady, but firm. It was the only word I could manage, but it carried everything I wanted to say.

Jungkook, however, wasn’t having it. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, that same unbothered, borderline dismissive expression still on his face. "No," he said back, his tone harsh and almost mocking, as if my complaint was nothing more than a small inconvenience to him. "I've been living here for years, and no one has ever complained about the noise. So why the hell should I stop just because my bratty new neighbor thinks she can tell me what to do?"

My mouth fell open. Bratty? The word stung, and I immediately felt the weight of the insult. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing—this was how he was going to handle it? Like it was nothing, like I was nothing? The nerve of him. I took a step forward, my anger flaring. “Excuse me?” I bit out, my voice sharper now. “You don't get to call me that. I'm just asking for a little respect.”

But Jungkook stood his ground, his eyes narrowing, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’m not stopping, okay? Deal with it.” He turned away, leaving me standing in the doorway, mouth agape and completely speechless.

I stood there for a moment, my chest tight with frustration, my pulse racing. I had never expected such a careless, rude response. How could someone be so selfish? I was being reasonable, but he didn’t give a damn. As much as I hated it, there was nothing more I could do. Not here, not now.

Sighing in defeat, I turned around and walked out of his apartment, heading toward the front desk. Maybe there was something else I could do. Maybe I could change rooms. A different floor, a quieter corner of the building—anything to get away from the noise.

When I reached the front desk, I didn’t even hesitate before asking. “Hi, is there any way I can change rooms? The noise from next door is unbearable. I can't sleep like this.” The receptionist gave me a gentle, apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Iris, but there are only two penthouse suites in the building—the one you're staying in and the other one that Mr. Jeon Jungkook occupies. Unfortunately, we don't have any available rooms on that floor."

I froze. The weight of the words crashed down on me, and I felt a dull sense of panic creep into my chest. The other penthouse suite. Of course, he’d be on the same floor. It only made sense.

I let out a long, defeated sigh. “Right. Thanks.” There was nothing I could do, no way around it. I couldn’t change floors, and the thought of confronting Jungkook again made me feel sick to my stomach.

I turned and trudged back toward my apartment, the long hallway stretching out before me like a labyrinth of inevitable frustration. I wanted to slam the door and bury myself under the covers, but I couldn’t escape the noise. It was going to be a long night.

Hours later, I was still wide awake. Every thud, every grunt, every strike against the wall felt like a hammer against my skull. My eyes felt heavy, but sleep never came. The time seemed to stretch on and on, an endless cycle of noise and silence, my body aching for rest that was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t blinked in what felt like forever. The pounding from next door showed no sign of stopping. The clock on my bedside table seemed to mock me, ticking away in slow motion.

When the noise finally ceased, my body went rigid with hope. I nearly leaped out of bed, glancing at the clock—only to freeze when I saw the time. It was 9 AM. A full night had passed, and I hadn't slept a wink. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I groaned in frustration, rubbing my eyes furiously, trying to will myself into consciousness despite the exhaustion that weighed me down.

With a sigh, I shuffled to the bathroom, throwing my hair into a messy bun and slipping on the soft robe I had left hanging in the bathroom. I needed coffee. I needed something to wake up and get through this first day back. My mind felt foggy, my head pounding in sync with the sleepless night I had just endured.

Making my way down to the breakfast bar, I was surprised at how quiet it was. The entire space was empty—no other guests, no bustling crowd to greet me. The silence in the lavish room only highlighted the sense of isolation that had settled over me, and my eyes flitted over the marble countertops and gleaming surfaces. It was beautiful—too beautiful.

I approached the nearest waiter, still feeling the weight of sleep-deprivation pressing on me, and asked in a daze, “Where is everyone? Is this place usually empty?”

The waiter offered a polite, almost apologetic smile. “This breakfast is only open to the penthouse suite owners, Miss Iris,” he explained softly, as if it were some exclusive secret that only a select few knew about. “It's a private service.”

I blinked, surprised at the exclusivity. The penthouse suites were far more than just lavish; they were reserved, and that alone made me feel like I had just entered a whole new world of luxury I never fully understood until now. My excitement flickered, and I felt a small smile tug at my lips as I made my way toward the nearest table.

But then, just as I was about to sit down, I heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. My stomach dropped, and I turned just in time to see Jungkook walk into the breakfast bar, looking completely at ease, as if he belonged here. His presence made my heart stutter for a moment. Of course, he would be here too. How could I forget that we were now neighbors?

I stood frozen, my initial excitement now replaced with a dull, sinking feeling. The reality of sharing this space with him, knowing that we were stuck on the same floor, made my stomach twist in a way I hadn’t expected.

Jungkook caught my eye briefly, and the brief flicker of recognition that passed between us was enough to send a pulse of heat to my cheeks. But I quickly looked away, my nerves spiking again as I tried to calm the swirl of thoughts flooding my mind.

The moment I sat down at the breakfast bar, I tried my hardest to ignore Jungkook's presence. I had already been up for hours, exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to deal with was him, his presence already irritating me the moment he walked in. I had been up most of the night, tossing and turning, listening to the constant noise next door, and I had gotten nothing but frustration and sleep deprivation in return. The last thing I needed was to engage with him, so I focused on my pancakes, pretending he wasn’t sitting across from me.

I took a bite, trying to savor the food, but the heaviness of the night still lingered in the pit of my stomach. I should’ve gotten a different room. But that thought wasn’t going to help anything now. I wasn’t going to waste my time thinking about how I’d gotten myself into this situation. My gaze stayed fixed on the plate, my fork moving in robotic circles as I tried to block him out.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard the scrape of a chair. Without any warning, Jungkook slid into the seat directly across from me, his leg grazing mine as he did so. I couldn’t help but flinch slightly, my eyes narrowing in response, but I didn’t look up. Not at first. If he thought I was going to acknowledge his presence, he was sorely mistaken.

“So, this is how you're gonna be, huh?” Jungkook’s voice was casual, but there was a hint of amusement behind it.

I resisted the urge to snap at him. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was getting under my skin. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my calm.

I kept my gaze down, forcing myself to finish my pancakes. It wasn’t about the food. It wasn’t about the luxury of the breakfast bar. It was about controlling myself, staying composed. The idea of letting him have any kind of power over me made me angry.

Jungkook, however, wasn’t about to let me have my peace. “You really gonna act like I’m not here?” he added, his tone almost playful, but there was an edge to it, like he was enjoying watching me try to hold it together.

My anger simmered, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Do you ever stop being a complete asshole?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, but I didn’t regret them. He was the one who had disrupted my peace. He was the one who had kept me awake all night. He deserved every bit of my irritation.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his gaze intense as it held mine for a beat. Then, as if realizing the full extent of what I was saying, his expression softened just a little. "My bad," he said, but the way he said it felt dismissive, like he didn’t really care at all.

My bad? That was it? After everything? He was acting like it was just a minor inconvenience to him, and it pissed me off even more. There was no apology in his voice, no empathy for the fact that I hadn’t slept at all the night before. It was like he couldn’t be bothered.

I set my fork down and exhaled sharply, my patience wearing thin. I finished my pancakes in silence, but the entire time, I felt that knot of anger twisting tighter and tighter in my chest.

As I pushed my plate away, preparing to stand up and leave, I was ready to just get away from him. I couldn’t take being in the same space as him for another second. I could already feel the annoyance bubbling up again, and I just needed to be somewhere else—anywhere else.

But as I stood, ready to leave, Jungkook reached out and grabbed my arm. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, and I froze for a moment, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

For a brief, fleeting second, I thought maybe—just maybe—he was going to apologize. Maybe he was going to admit that he’d been an asshole and that he would stop making so much noise. The warmth of his hand on my arm felt almost... protective, as though he wanted to keep me in place. I half-expected him to say something like, “I’m sorry, I’ll turn the volume down next time.”

But instead, the smirk spread across his face, and his grip tightened just a little. "You know," he began, his voice low, teasing, "your shorts are inside out."

I froze, my face flushing a deep crimson as I looked down, horrified to see the tag sticking out of the waistband. Of course, I thought. Of course, he’d notice something like that.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I hurriedly yanked at the waistband, trying to fix it. My stomach churned with embarrassment, and I could feel the weight of the situation hitting me all at once. My body was still tense from the anger, the lack of sleep, and now, the sheer mortification of having him point out something so trivial, but so incredibly embarrassing.

"Shut up," I muttered, my face burning. I wanted to get out of there, away from his knowing gaze, away from his smirk, away from everything. I stood up abruptly, feeling the urge to just leave before I did something I might regret. "Stupid Jungkook," I muttered under my breath as I quickly walked away, my heart pounding in my chest.

I didn’t look back as I made my way to the elevator, the sting of humiliation and frustration still fresh in my mind. My thoughts were a whirlwind—Why the hell couldn’t I just get some peace? Why was he so impossible?

And yet, as I stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut, I couldn’t help but think—He doesn’t even know how much he’s gotten under my skin. He’s the kind of guy who never gives a damn about anyone else. But I had no choice but to deal with him. He was my neighbor, and I had a feeling that this was just the beginning of a much bigger problem.

--------------------------------

The next few days unfolded exactly like the first—loud thuds, grunts, and the relentless pounding from next door that kept me from getting a single full night of sleep. No matter what time of day it was, it felt like the noise never stopped. I could practically feel the vibrations through the walls, and every time I tried to drift off, the sounds of his training echoed in my ears, only growing louder and more intrusive. I was at my breaking point.

I couldn’t take it anymore. He had turned my peaceful, quiet homecoming into a constant cycle of irritation and exhaustion. I had tried to be patient, but no more. It was time for a little payback.

I thought about it carefully—how to retaliate without it looking like I was being petty. The solution came to me one evening, like a light bulb going off in my head. I was going to play the piano. But not just play it. I would play it in a way that would get under his skin, just like he had done to me. I knew I had to be strategic.

So, I placed a call to have a piano delivered to my apartment. I set it up near the window so the sound would bounce right off the walls. I spent the next few hours playing scales, messing around with random notes, and making sure every press of the keys was off-pitch, each note slightly dissonant. All while wearing noise-canceling headphones, of course, ensuring I couldn’t hear a thing. My purpose was simple: to be as annoying as possible, to drown out his noise with my own.

For hours, I played with purpose—pressing the wrong keys deliberately, hitting sharp and flat notes with no care for melody or rhythm. It felt oddly satisfying to take control of the situation, to disrupt his training the way he had disrupted my sleep.

Then, just as I started to think I had finally achieved a moment of sweet vengeance, I heard it. A loud bang—like someone had kicked my door. My smirk curled into a grin as I turned the volume on the piano down, straining to listen.

The door rattled with another forceful knock. I stood up and smoothed my shirt, bracing myself for the confrontation. I knew who it was before I even opened the door. The deep, frustrated sigh, the unmistakable presence of him standing on the other side. As I pulled it open, I was met with the sight of Jungkook standing in the doorway, shirtless, his well-defined tattoos now fully on display. His breath was ragged, and his expression was dark, almost seething.

I couldn’t help but notice how much more intimidating he looked without a shirt. His muscles rippled with every movement, and his tattoos—dark, intricate—made him look even more imposing. But none of that could disguise the anger that flashed across his face.

He took a step forward, his eyes burning with irritation. “Are you on something?” he asked, his voice low and rough, the anger evident in his tone.

I blinked innocently, feigning a calm I didn’t quite feel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice dripping with sweetness, though my mind was anything but. Inside, I was brimming with a sense of victory—he had come to me, just like I knew he would.

He was seething now, his fists clenching at his sides. “This isn’t funny,” he growled, his voice dropping into a warning. “You’ve been playing that damn thing for hours. I could hear you through the walls. What is it, some kind of revenge thing?”

I raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile tugging at my lips. “Revenge?” I repeated, making a show of thinking. “I’m not sure. I’m just practicing. I don’t know why you’re so bothered by it.”

The room between us felt charged with tension, his anger mixing with my frustration. For a moment, neither of us spoke. I could practically feel the standoff, the quiet before something bigger broke out.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his expression softening just a bit. "Look," he muttered, clearly trying to calm himself down, "you need to stop playing that piano. It's driving me insane."

I didn’t back down, my eyes narrowing. "You think I want to listen to you training all day?"

We stared each other down, neither of us willing to back off. The silence between us grew thick, before he exhaled sharply, a reluctant agreement slipping from his lips. "Fine. Here’s the deal. I’ll cut my training down."

I felt a rush of relief, knowing I had found a middle ground. And I was finally getting some control back. "Alright," I said, my voice firmer now. "And I’ll keep playing the piano for a few hours in the morning." I crossed my arms and looked at him expectantly.

Jungkook stared at me for a long moment, his chest still heaving slightly from the anger and the physical exertion. But finally, he nodded.

“Deal.”

I smirked, satisfied. "Good," I said, giving him one last look. "I’ll hold you to that."

With that, I closed the door between us, my heart racing with the adrenaline of the standoff. I had won this round. It felt good. But something told me this wasn’t the last time we’d clash. Not by a long shot.

The night that followed was the most peaceful one I’d had in ages. No incessant thumping, no distant grunts, no thuds of a punch landing on a bag or weights clanging in a makeshift gym. Just the soft hum of the city around me, the kind that I had long since gotten used to but had never truly appreciated until now. It was like the universe had decided to give me a break, a moment of silence after the chaos that Jungkook had brought into my life.

I settled into the quiet, my body finally relaxing after what felt like an eternity of exhaustion. But still, the strange thoughts kept bubbling up in my mind—thoughts I didn’t want to entertain, yet couldn’t push away. Jungkook. The man who had once been the object of my high school crush, and who now, in a strange twist of fate, was my infuriatingly loud neighbor.

Curiosity gnawed at me, making it impossible to focus. I needed to know more about him. What had happened to that carefree boy I had crushed on all those years ago? What was he like now? What has changed? I grabbed my phone, typing his name into the search bar, almost hesitantly. The results came up almost instantly, and I was met with a flood of information that left me speechless.

Jungkook was not just any man. He was a world-famous boxer. His net worth? Billions. Billions. It was hard to wrap my head around. No wonder he spent so much time training—he wasn’t just trying to maintain a career, he was trying to stay at the top of his game. And with that much money, it made sense why he lived the way he did. No wonder he didn’t seem to care about the noise he was making. He was too far removed from the rest of us.

I leaned back, staring at the phone screen. It was so surreal to think about. In high school, Jungkook had been the charming, confident athlete, always surrounded by the popular girls who adored him, their hands all over him, praising him like he was some kind of god. I had been a quiet girl, more interested in my grades than in chasing popularity. He never noticed me then, and looking at him now, it wasn’t much of a surprise that he didn’t recognize me.

But still, part of me couldn’t help but wonder how much of the man I saw now was still that same guy. Was he still driven by the same love for sports, the same desire to be the best? Or had he become consumed by his success, turning into someone completely different?

I pushed the thoughts aside. No need to dwell on it. I had my own life now, my own accomplishments, and I didn’t need to compare myself to him. Still, the question lingered: What happened to the Jungkook I once admired?

I decided I needed a change of scenery. I couldn’t stay cooped up in my room any longer. I slid open the balcony door and stepped outside, grateful for the cool air that hit my skin. The city stretched out before me, the lights from the streets below twinkling like stars, and the faint sounds of traffic drifting up. I leaned against the railing, taking in the view, letting my thoughts settle.

I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to focus on the peace of the night. But then, I heard it. A slow exhale, deep and deliberate. My eyes snapped open, and I turned to see none other than Jungkook standing next to me on his balcony, barely a few feet away.

He was shirtless, his hair damp as if he had just stepped out of the shower, and he was holding a cigarette between his fingers. His gaze flicked over to me, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest. There he was, standing like he owned the entire city, as confident as ever. I couldn’t help but notice the tattoos that covered his arms, the muscles that rippled as he moved.

"It’s rude to stare, you know," he said, his voice casual but laced with that same smugness I remembered from high school.

I blinked, a little caught off guard, but quickly regained my composure. "I wasn’t staring," I shot back, crossing my arms.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Yeah, sure. You’re not exactly being subtle, you know."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but I wasn’t about to back down. "What do you want, Jungkook?"

He took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes never leaving me. "I’m bored," he said, his tone almost whiny, but with a hint of frustration. "I'd be training right now, but I can't because of you." He paused, his gaze flicking down to the floor of his balcony before meeting mine again. "It’s kind of annoying, you know. You’ve been killing my vibe."

I stared at him, taken aback. What was he talking about? "You’re the one making all the noise," I said, not bothering to hide the frustration in my voice. "I’ve barely gotten any sleep because of you."

Jungkook just shrugged, unfazed. "Well, I didn’t tell you to move next door to me." His voice was flat, almost dismissive.

I was livid. "Maybe you should learn to be more considerate of the people around you," I snapped, my anger rising again.

He just exhaled smoke and leaned back against the railing. "My bad," he said, his tone sarcastic. "I’ll make sure to send you a nice apology card next time."

I shot him a glare but didn’t respond. We stood there in silence for a moment, the only sounds the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of wind in the trees. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was strangely calm. Then, Jungkook broke the silence again.

“So,” he began, tilting his head slightly, “do you have anything to do right now?” His tone was casual, like he was genuinely asking, but there was a hint of something else behind it.

I was taken aback for a moment. “No,” I answered slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, then glanced over at me with that same mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, if you don't have anything to do... wanna chill for a bit?"

I couldn’t help but stare at him. What was he playing at now? He leaned against the railing casually, his posture relaxed, as if this was some normal, everyday invitation.

“I don’t bite,” he added with a smirk.

I raised an eyebrow, the corners of my mouth twitching. “Sure you don’t,” I said, folding my arms.

He chuckled, unbothered by my sharp reply. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I’m not such a bad guy, you know.”

I hesitated, unsure what to say. Part of me wanted to keep my distance, to keep him at arm’s length. But another part of me… well, curiosity got the best of me. He was right about one thing: we hadn’t really talked outside of all the noise and hostility. Maybe it was worth a shot.

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes, but there was no hiding the small smile that tugged at my lips. "I’ll chill for a bit. But don’t get any weird ideas."

His grin widened, and without missing a beat, he pushed off from the railing, heading toward the entrance to his apartment. “Good. Come over.”

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