Drip.

Sweat dripped down his temple, past his jaw, but he barely felt it. The noise around him---cheers, shouts, money exchanging hands---meant nothing. His focus was locked on the man in front of him, on the fist cutting through the air, aimed straight for his face.

He moved before it could land. Fast. Sharp. Twisting just enough to dodge before slamming his own fist forward.

It connected. Hard.

A sickening crunch filled the space between them, the kind that made the crowd go wild. He didn't stop. Another hit. Then another. The guy's head snapped back, body stumbling, blood already smeared across his mouth.

Still standing.

Jungkook exhaled, rolling his shoulders, fingers flexing once before he went in again.

The guy barely had time to steady himself before Jungkook was on him again.

A jab to the ribs---sharp, precise---followed by a brutal right hook to the jaw. His opponent grunted, head snapping to the side, body twisting with the impact. He was slowing down. Weakening.

Jungkook could tell. He had felt this a hundred times before---the shift when a fight was already won, when the other guy was just standing on borrowed time.

He hated that feeling.

Because it meant the fight was about to end.

The guy swung again---sloppy, desperate. Jungkook didn't even bother dodging. Just stepped in, caught the arm mid-air, and sent his knee straight into the man's stomach.

A sharp gasp. A body folding forward.

Jungkook grabbed the back of his head, dragged him down, and drove his fist into his face.

The moment the guy hit the ground, the bell rang.

It was over.

Jungkook exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he stepped back, barely sparing the body on the floor a glance. Not dead. Not unconscious. Just beaten. Brutally

Someone lifted his arm---declaration of victory. The crowd roared. Money changed hands.

Didn't matter.

Jungkook had already turned, stepping out of the ring, rolling his shoulders, shaking the tension from his arms. He didn't look back.

The guy was still on the mat, barely moving, blood smeared across his face. Not Jungkook's problem. He lost. That was it.

His bare feet hit the cold concrete, the sweat on his skin cooling instantly. He wiped his jaw with the back of his hand, the taste of iron lingering on his tongue.

His eyes flickered through the crowd, searching---and finding. Namjoon was already walking toward him.

Jungkook let out a slow breath, dragging the towel someone handed him over his face. His sponsor. The man who made sure every fight lined Jungkook's pockets with cash.

Namjoon stopped in front of him, hands in his pockets, eyes running over him like he was already assessing the next fight.

Jungkook just wiped the sweat from his neck, his grip tightening around the towel.

He already knew what was coming next.

"Another fight?" Namjoon asked.

Jungkook shook his head briefly. "No. I have to go out today."

Namjoon didn't question it. Just nodded once, as if filing away the information for later. He never pushed. Never asked for explanations. That was the thing about Namjoon---he only cared about results.

Jungkook nodded his head once at him, pushing past and heading straight for the changing room. He stepped into the locker room, shutting the door behind him with a dull thud.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he made his way to the bathroom. His body ached, sweat clinging to his skin, the faint sting of split knuckles pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Stripping off his clothes, he stepped under the water, letting the heat burn away the grime, the blood, the exhaustion.

For a moment, he just stood there, eyes shut, head tilted back.

Letting himself breathe.

Steam filled the small bathroom, clinging to the walls, fogging up the mirror above the sink. The water was scalding, just the way Jungkook liked it---enough to sting, enough to feel something.

He let it run down his body, trailing over his shoulders, his chest, washing away the sweat and blood that clung to his skin. His fingers pushed back his damp hair, water dripping down his jaw and onto the tiled floor.

The heat worked its way into his muscles, loosening the tension that always seemed to settle deep in his bones after a fight. He exhaled, tilting his head back, letting the spray hit his face, his neck, sliding down over the tattoos on his forearm.

The water coursed over him, hot enough to redden his skin, chasing away the cold that had seeped in from the arena floor. His hands braced against the tiles, muscles flexing as he leaned forward slightly, letting his head drop.

~~~

The music in the club was loud---bass-heavy and distracting---but it wasn't the kind of place that ever went quiet. Jungkook sighed as he sank into the sofa, letting the cold leather press into his back. His muscles still ached from the fight, sweat clinging to his skin under the loose shirt he threw on. .

Across the low table sat Yoongi, silent as usual, glass in hand, eyes half-lidded like he was already bored out of his mind. He looked like he always did---dead inside but functioning somehow. Black shirt, silver rings, and that same fucking expression that said "don't talk to me unless you're worth my time."

Next to him was Hoseok. Loud, annoying, too comfortable in his role as Jungkook's manager-slash-fight babysitter. He grinned like he owned the place and didn't shut the fuck up unless Yoongi shot him a look. Which, to be fair, happened a lot.

Hoseok grabbed a fresh beer from the bucket, popped it open, and poured it into their glasses like they were at some fancy dinner and not in the back VIP of a club where people probably sold coke in the bathrooms.

"Drink up, bitches," Hoseok grinned, sliding Jungkook his glass.

Jungkook took it without a word, lifted it lazily.

They clinked glasses---half-assed, but it counted---and drank.

The beer was cold. Sharp. Cut through the taste of blood still in his mouth.

Better than nothing.

Jungkook had just set his glass down when a voice cut through the music, too loud, too chipper for the mood.

"Winners' table, huh? Damn, should've lost on purpose if it meant free booze."

Jungkook didn't need to look to know. No one else sounded that fucking cheerful in a place like this.

Mingyu strolled over---messy hair, black fitting, and a shit-eating grin that made Jungkook want to punch him half the time. Not out of hate. Just because he talked too much.

Yoongi didn't even blink. Just kept sipping his drink like Mingyu didn't exist. Hoseok grinned and raised his glass. Of course he did. Hoseok liked chaos.

Mingyu dropped down on the couch next to Jungkook, far too comfortable. "You looked hot as fuck in that ring tonight, by the way," he added, nudging him with an elbow.

Jungkook shot him a look. "Shut the fuck up."

Mingyu just laughed, stealing a beer for himself. "Relax. Complimenting you is like giving a dog a treat. Gotta keep the beast calm."

Jungkook leaned back, let out a dry breath. "Keep running your mouth and I'll break your jaw. See how calm I get then."

"Kinky."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Yoongi muttered.

Hoseok snorted into his drink, and Jungkook just downed the rest of his beer, deciding that if Mingyu stayed for more than ten minutes, he'd need something stronger.

Or earplugs.

Mingyu leaned forward to grab a handful of the salted peanuts on the table like he hadn't just dropped the filthiest one-liner in front of three men with varying degrees of patience. Jungkook watched him for a second, jaw ticking, then looked away.

They'd known each other since high school. Back when fights were still behind school buildings and not inside blood-soaked rings with people screaming bets over bodies.

Mingyu wasn't a fighter. Never had been. But his mouth? That thing started more wars than Jungkook's fists ever could.

He wasn't always annoying. Just... ninety percent of the time. Talked like he didn't believe in filters. Thought with his dick half the time and still managed to somehow land on his feet. Neutral in every circle. Not loyal to anyone, not hated either. People kept him around because he was useful---charming when he needed to be, and dangerous when no one expected it.

"Still drinking that cheap shit?" Mingyu asked, flicking a peanut at Yoongi, who didn't even flinch. "At least pretend you have taste, man."

Yoongi didn't respond. Just slowly turned his head.

"Do it again, I dare you."

Mingyu smirked. "Flirting already?"

Hoseok chuckled like this was the best entertainment of the night. "You know, one day you're gonna say the wrong thing to the wrong person and end up buried behind Seokjin's club."

Mingyu shrugged. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go. I've seen his bartender. I'll die happy."

The couch dipped slightly, and again Jungkook didn't have to look up to know who it was.

"Didn't know this was a charity table. You let him sit here?"

Seokjin.

Owner of Eden Club. Club runner. Nightlife king. Professional smartass.

He slid into the empty space next to Yoongi, jacket sharp, shirt pressed, like he hadn't just walked through a club where half the people were high and the other half were trying to hide guns in their designer bags.

"Aw, come on, you missed me," Seokjin said, draping his arm behind the couch casually, a glass of something expensive already in hand. "Don't lie."

Jungkook didn't answer. He just glanced at him, unimpressed, then looked away.

Seokjin always looked out of place here. Too clean. Too put-together. But he ran this shit. The club, the backroom deals, the dirt under everyone's fingernails---they all passed through him.

People thought he was soft because he dressed pretty. He wasn't.

Jungkook had seen him make someone disappear without raising his voice.

Still, he was tolerable. Mostly because he didn't try to manage Jungkook's life like Hoseok, or antagonize him like Mingyu.

"Did you come here to drink or just sit there and make the place uglier?" Jungkook muttered, taking another swig from his glass.

"Definitely alternative of the second one," Seokjin said, smiling wide, eyes not smiling at all.

Yoongi raised his glass slightly. Hoseok passed Seokjin a beer. Mingyu muttered something about Seokjin's face being too symmetrical.

And just like that, the circle was complete.

The table got a little louder. Hoseok leaned back, boots on the edge like he owned the damn VIP lounge. He was already halfway through his beer and trying to convince Yoongi to switch to shots.

"Come on, just one," Hoseok grinned, nudging the glass toward him. "You're already drinking like someone's dad. Might as well commit."

Yoongi didn't even blink. "I don't take shots with people who think Bud Light is beer."

Seokjin snorted into his glass. "He's got a point. You drink like a college dropout on a budget."

"Wow," Hoseok said flatly. "All this love. I feel so supported."

Jungkook didn't say much. Just sat there with his drink, cold glass pressed loosely between his fingers. He was half-listening, half-zoning out. The buzz in his head felt nice---not drunk, just quiet.

Mingyu was across from him, feet up, one arm stretched along the top of the couch. He was talking to no one and everyone at once. "You know what this table's missing?" he asked, mouth already halfway to a smirk.

"No," Jungkook said.

"Strippers."

Yoongi exhaled through his nose. Seokjin didn't even look surprised. Hoseok just laughed.

"Man, shut the fuck up," Jungkook muttered, tossing a peanut at his face.

Mingyue caught it. With his mouth.

"See? Useful mouth." He winked.

Jungkook looked at his beer like it personally failed him. "God, I fucking hate you."

"What a lie~," Mingyu sing-songed, stretching again. "You'd be bored without me."

The conversation went nowhere for a while. Just easy noise. Bullshit. Dumb jokes. Familiar tones. It was the kind of night that didn't mean anything---but felt like a pause.

Mingyu reached for the bottle in the middle of the table, spinning it lazily between his fingers like he'd been waiting for the silence to get just boring enough.

"Alright," he said, grinning. "Let's play something. I'm bored, and watching Yoongi stare into his drink like it owes him money isn't doing it for me anymore."

Yoongi didn't even look up. "I'm ignoring you on purpose."

Mingyu shrugged. "Used to it." He looked around the table, eyes landing on each of them. "Let's do shots and dare. You either take the shot, or you take the dare. But-" he raised a finger, "-the people at the table decide how many shots you drink if you choose that."

Seokjin raised an eyebrow. "And if we pick dare?"

Mingyu's grin widened. "Then the dare comes from us, too. Simple."

Jungkook leaned forward slightly, elbow on his knee, glass dangling from his fingers. "That's the dumbest shit I've heard today."

"Then you're definitely playing." Mingyu smirked.

Hoseok clapped his hands once, too into it already. "Fuck yes, let's go."

Seokjin rolled his eyes but didn't say no. Yoongi just muttered, "This is how people end up with missing eyebrows and blackmail material."

"Whatever," Mingyu said, already pouring shots into a clean row of glasses.

Jungkook didn't object. He could've. Probably should've. But his glass was almost empty, and he wasn't tired enough to go home.

So when Mingyu looked at him and said, "You first, champ," Jungkook just leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Shot or dare?" Mingyu asked.

Jungkook scoffed under his breath. "Dare."

"Bold," Hoseok grinned. "We like that."

Mingyu leaned forward, elbows on the table, the kind of grin that meant trouble. "Alright then. You have to call the last person you fought and tell them you miss them."

Jungkook blinked once. Just once.

Then set his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

"I'm doing the shots."

Laughter broke around the table.

Seokjin grinned. "Five shots, minimum."

"Six," Yoongi added flatly.

Mingyu grinned like a devil. "Make it seven. For your pride."

Jungkook shook his head once, grabbed the first shot glass, and downed it like water.

"Fuck all of you," he muttered.

"Love you too," Hoseok smirked.

Jungkook had just slammed his fifth shot on the table when Mingyu turned with an overly smug grin.

"Alright, Hoseok. You're up."

Hoseok stretched like he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life. "Give me a dare. No shots. I'm not a coward like some people."

Jungkook didn't even look at him. Just flipped him off mid-shot.

Yoongi spoke first, voice flat. "Don't do anything weird. That's all I want to see from you tonight."

Mingyu's eyes lit up. "Yes. Lick... something disgusting."

Seokjin blinked slowly. "Why are all your ideas either sexual or mildly criminal?"

"I'm consistent," Mingyu shrugged.

Jungkook leaned back in his seat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fine. He can lick the floor near the bar. Someone definitely puked there earlier."

"Ew, no. I draw the line at bodily fluids," Hoseok said immediately, pulling a face.

"Then take a shot," Yoongi offered, not even bothering to smirk.

"Fuck off." Hoseok scanned the table for an out, then stood up suddenly. "Alright. I'll lick something, but I get to pick."

He disappeared for a second, and the group collectively looked at one another in silent suspicion.

"Ten bucks says he's about to do something absolutely fucking stupid," Jungkook muttered.

"Only ten?" Seokjin scoffed.

Seconds later, Hoseok returned---with a fake plastic plant from the corner of the VIP lounge.

"I present to you, Mr. Green," he announced, holding it up like a trophy. "And I will now, as dared, lick this sexy, dusty-ass leaf."

"No one fucking dared you to name it," Yoongi said, deadpan.

Hoseok dramatically stuck his tongue out and dragged it up the plastic leaf like it was a fine delicacy.

Everyone groaned.

"God, you're disgusting," Mingyu said, half laughing, half horrified.

"Disgusting and committed," Hoseok replied, setting the plant down proudly. "Next."

Jungkook downed another shot just to cleanse the image. "I need bleach."

Seokjin raised his glass. "Welcome to Eden, baby."

They went a few more rounds---Seokjin took a shot and didn't even flinch, Yoongi ended up sending a disgustingly flirty voice note to some poor guy from his contacts, and Mingyu, of course, dared himself to text his ex something that would either get him blocked or laid.

By the time the bottle came back around, Jungkook was already slouched lower on the couch, fingers still loosely curled around an empty shot glass.

His head felt light. His skin warm. Not drunk-drunk, but definitely half-floating.

"Your turn again, champ," Mingyu grinned, eyes way too sharp for someone who had been drinking too.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, exhaled slowly through his nose. "Dare."

"Sure?" Seokjin asked, raising a brow.

Jungkook gave a slow nod, barely blinking. "Don't make me repeat it."

Mingyu clapped once, way too excited. "Alright. You wanna play dirty?" He leaned in, both elbows on the table. "Then go rob someone."

The table went quiet.

Jungkook blinked once, like the words took a second to settle in.

Yoongi looked up from his drink for the first time in a while. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Mingyu shrugged, completely unbothered. "Nothing violent. Just take something. A wallet, a watch, I don't care. Gotta do it slick though. And not from one of us, obviously."

"That's actually illegal, you know," Seokjin muttered.

"You run an illegal club," Hoseok pointed out.

"And we're not robbing anyone in my club," Seokjin said, sitting up straighter now. "Outside. If he's dumb enough to listen to this idiot, he's doing it outside."

Jungkook groaned, pressing a palm to his face. His hand felt hotter than it should.

"You wanted a dare," Mingyu sing-songed. "Back out and you're drinking ten shots back-to-back."

"Fuck off," Jungkook muttered, already pushing himself up from the couch. His balance was slightly off, but he steadied. Still sharp enough. Still Jungkook.

He grabbed his jacket off the back of the seat.

"This is fucking stupid," he muttered under his breath.

But he didn't say no.

Because that would mean Mingyu wins.

And that was worse.

Jungkook was already outside by the time the others followed, pulling his jacket on with sluggish hands and an irritated scowl carved into his face. His buzz was starting to fade just enough for the regret to creep in, but not enough to keep him from swinging a leg over the bike parked out front.

Mingyu jumped on behind him like this was a joyride, arms casually wrapping around Jungkook's waist.

"You try anything, I'll elbow you in the throat," Jungkook muttered.

"Relax," Mingyu grinned, leaning a little too close to his ear. "You're not my type."

"Yeah, cause I've got standards," Jungkook shot back, kicking the bike to life.

Behind them, Yoongi and Hoseok were dragging their asses to Yoongi's bike, Yoongi muttering something under his breath while Hoseok laughed like this was the best fucking idea they'd had all week.

"Seokjin's not coming?" Hoseok asked, looking back toward the club.

Yoongi climbed on, deadpan. "He said, and I quote, 'I own the club, not the bail money.'"

Fair.

The streets were quiet, like expected. 2 a.m. meant no traffic, no people, just neon signs and the sound of engines cutting through the dark.

Mingyu leaned closer against Jungkook's back, voice loud over the wind. "Alright, you said dare. I pick the place. And we're not going somewhere crowded, obviously."

Jungkook's jaw clenched. "It's 2 a.m. There is no crowd."

"Exactly," Mingyu replied, pleased with himself. "Now shut up and ride."

Jungkook didn't reply. Just turned the throttle and pulled into the road, tires humming beneath them.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed close behind, their headlights bouncing off empty streets and silent buildings.

No cars. No pedestrians. Just four idiots and one criminal dare hanging in the air.

And for some reason, Jungkook still hadn't turned around.

They slowed near an old market street---rows of shuttered stalls, dim streetlights flickering like they were as tired as the rest of the city. The place looked like it had seen better years, let alone better nights.

Jungkook killed the engine and kicked the stand down. The silence hit harder than the cold. Even the wind felt still.

Yoongi parked beside him, Hoseok hopping off first and stretching like they'd just come back from a joyride instead of following a half-drunk dare.

Mingyu slid off the back, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the empty street like a cat watching shadows move. "Not bad, right?"

Jungkook gave him a blank look. "There's no one here."

Mingyu shrugged, unconcerned. "Someone'll come. Patience, muscle man."

Jungkook was about to call him a dumbass when the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the far side of the street.

A woman, maybe mid-thirties, walked slowly under one of the streetlights, a small kid holding her hand.

They were quiet, heads down, clearly just trying to get somewhere fast.

Mingyu nudged Jungkook with his elbow. "Well?"

"No," Jungkook said, without even thinking.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. "It's just a joke-"

"It's not funny." Jungkook's voice was low now, steady. "Try that shit again and I'll put you on the ground myself."

The others didn't say anything. Hoseok kicked at a rock. Yoongi lit a cigarette like he hadn't just witnessed anything.

The woman passed by without noticing them. Her footsteps were light. The kid yawned, clutching tighter to her coat.

When they disappeared down the road, Mingyu muttered, "Alright, alright. Wasn't serious."

Jungkook didn't answer.

A few minutes later, another figure appeared at the other end of the street. An older man, hunched slightly, dragging something in a cart. He moved slow, didn't even glance their way, and turned down the narrow path at the end of the market.

Gone.

And then... nothing.

Just empty road. Empty buildings.

Yoongi glanced around, flicking ash off the side of his cigarette. "So what now?"

Jungkook leaned against the bike, arms crossed. "We wait."

Mingyu flopped down on the curb like they weren't potentially about to commit a crime. "It's not like people are lining up to get robbed, man."

"Maybe they should," Hoseok muttered. "Make this faster."

They fell into silence. Just four guys waiting on a ghost of a street, under streetlights that kept buzzing like something was coming.

But nothing did.

Jungkook pulled the pack from his pocket, slid a cigarette between his lips, and lit it with a short flick of his lighter. The flame glowed briefly against his face before disappearing back into the night.

He took a long drag, let the smoke sit heavy in his lungs before exhaling. The burn grounded him more than the booze ever could.

Beside him, Mingyu leaned in without asking, plucked a cigarette from the pack. "Sharing is caring," he muttered, lighting his own off the end of Yoongi's.

A moment later, Hoseok joined them, pulling out his lighter like this was the most natural next step, leaning against the bike and puffing slowly, eyes scanning the empty street.

They were all just standing there, smoking in silence, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing did.

No cars. No sounds. Just cold air and the soft crackle of four lit cigarettes.

Until-

"Someone's coming," Mingyu said, voice low now, shifting into something sharper.

Jungkook looked up.

A figure was appearing from the far alley, the dim streetlights flickering just enough to catch pieces of him.

Tall. Slender. Slow steps.

Streetlight passed again.

A young man.

Expensive clothes. Not flashy, but detailed. A black coat tailored to his frame, sharp at the collar, edges detailed with what looked like pearls or some kind of silver thread. Definitely not cheap.

And in his hand-

A book. Or notebook. Jungkook couldn't tell from here, but it looked small. Held close, like it mattered.

"Bingo," Mingyu muttered, a grin curling at the edge of his lips.

Jungkook didn't say anything, just took another drag from his cigarette.

This one was perfect.

He slid the cigarette from his mouth, dropped it to the ground, and crushed it under his boot.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black mask, slipping it over his face without a word. The fabric felt warm from being tucked away all night, and slightly damp from the heat on his skin.

Mingyu fished something from his coat and held it out. A small folding knife. Not flashy, not big... just sharp.

Jungkook glanced at it for a second, his brow ticking faintly. "Seriously?"

Mingyu just grinned. "You're committing to the bit, might as well play the part."

Jungkook looked at him for a beat longer, then took it. Quietly flipped it open.

Hoseok leaned forward, a little too hyped. "Go. Before he turns the fuck around. Let's go, let's go-"

Yoongi shoved him back, muttering, "Shut up," but they all ducked behind the alley's end wall as Jungkook moved.

He walked down the street, steps slow and quiet, knife hidden low at his side. The guy didn't seem to notice him at first---head down, still holding that damn book like it was something important.

The streetlight flickered again as they neared each other. Just enough for Jungkook to see the coat shimmer slightly... detailed as hell. Designer. Rich.

Great.

Just as the guy was about to pass, Jungkook stepped in---quickly---one arm slamming against the wall just past his shoulder, cutting off his path. His other hand came up, pressing the flat side of the knife right to the guy's throat.

Close. Sharp.

The air felt colder here.

"Money," Jungkook said, low and rough through the mask. "Now."

No scream. No sudden flinch.

Just the sound of breathing.

Shallow. Raspy.

The kind of breathing that didn't match panic. It was quieter than that. Slower.

Like the guy wasn't surprised.

Jungkook pressed the blade a little firmer---not enough to cut, just enough to remind.

"I said, if you give a fuck about your life, hand over the money."

Still, nothing.

No words. No movement. Just that same slow, shallow breath brushing against the space between them.

Jungkook's grip tightened, irritation flaring under his skin. He pulled back half a step, jaw set, ready to bark again-
But then the guy looked up.

And Jungkook stopped.

The mask itched suddenly, too warm, too tight against his face.

The streetlight flickered above them again, and for a split second, he saw him.

Unbothered. Monolids. Dark eyes that didn't dart around, didn't panic---just looked at him.

Looked through him.

The monolids were shimmering. Calm.

Or maybe Jungkook was tripping. He had taken five shots too many, after all. But there was something about the way this guy was just... there.

Like none of this mattered.

Like he'd expected it.

Jungkook blinked, briefly thrown off.

The guy blinked back, slow, like he was still waiting for Jungkook to actually do something.

While the shimmer in the guy's eyes was messing with him.

Not in the dramatic way. Not some life-altering, lightning-strike shit. Just... weird.

Weird enough to make him forget what the hell he was doing.

He hadn't even seen the full face. The mask limited his view, and the shadows covered everything else. But those monolids---dark, unreadable, glinting under the flickering streetlight---were all he could focus on.

Almost hypnotic.

Jungkook didn't even realize how long he'd been staring until the guy tilted his head---barely a twitch---and whatever haze Jungkook had slipped into cracked.

Right.

The dare. The fucking dare.

He blinked, cleared his throat, and mentally cursed himself.

Maybe the guy didn't have anything. Maybe that's why he was so calm. Poor people didn't panic when you asked for money. Just stared at you like the universe had done enough already.

Whatever.

He needed something to complete the dare.

So Jungkook's hand shot out, hastily, fingers closing around the small book the guy had been holding tight to his chest.

That would do. Something to show.

But the guy didn't let go.

Jungkook hadn't pulled hard yet, hadn't used force. It was just a grip. But the guy's hand stayed firm on the book, like it mattered more than his own damn safety.

No flinch. No fear. No words.

Just that steady stare. Still. Silent.

What the fuck was with this guy?

Jungkook raised the knife again, the blade catching what little light the street offered. He didn't swing it, didn't move it forward---just lifted it, angled slightly toward the guy's ribs.

"Give me the fucking book." His voice came out low, hoarse. The kind of tone that usually got people moving.

The guy barely blinked.

No fear. Just... stillness.

Then, slowly, one of his hands loosened its grip on the book.

Jungkook smirked. Finally.

But before he could yank it free, he felt something-

Warmth.

On his face.

His breath hitched, confusion flickering in his chest as he looked up and saw the guy's fingers brushing against his jaw.

Not shaking. Not rough. Just... there.

Soft. Intentional.

And then---the mask shifted.

Pulled.

Jungkook froze.

The guy was pulling his mask down. Slowly. Casually. Like he wasn't the one with a knife against his ribs. Like none of this was real.

Jungkook's fingers twitched. His grip on the knife faltered just slightly.

What the actual fuck-

He was too stunned to stop him. His breath caught in his throat as the mask slipped beneath his chin, his face now exposed.

Eyes locked. Close. Too close.

And Jungkook couldn't move for a moment.

Slipping away from the moment he yanked the book free. Quick. His breath still caught somewhere in his chest from whatever the fuck just happened.

His feet moved before he could think---two, three steps back, ready to bolt.

But then a hand shot out.

Fingers curled around the edge of the book again, gripping it tight.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Jungkook spun around, ready to snap, to shove the guy back and say something sharp---maybe finally use the damn knife-

But he didn't even get the chance.

Because the guy moved faster.

And suddenly...

Warm.

Soft.

Right on his.

Lips.

Jungkook blinked.

Once. Twice. Again.

His entire body stiffened, breath catching somewhere between shock and what the fuck.

The guy's hand slid up---into his hair, fingers tangling like he fucking belonged there---and his lips stayed, pressed firm but not aggressive.

And Jungkook just stood there---frozen.

Eyes wide, lungs full of smoke and disbelief, his brain completely failing to catch up to what the hell was going on.

He was supposed to rob this guy.

Not get fucking kissed by him.

Before Jungkook could even process the heat pressing against his mouth, the guy moved again.

His lips---actually moved---softly rubbing against Jungkook's like this was real, like this wasn't the most fucked up way a robbery had ever gone sideways.

And then it got worse.

Because suddenly, the guy jumped.

Literally.

Jumped into him.

Legs wrapped around Jungkook's waist, arms locking behind his neck like this was some goddamn drama scene and not a back alley at 2 a.m. after a planned robbery.

The book thudded to the ground between their feet.

And the guy kissed him again---properly this time. Mouth moving like he knew what he was doing, like this wasn't insane.

Jungkook's brain just---blasted.

Gone. Static.

What the actual fuck was happening?

His arms stayed rigid at his sides, jaw tense, the knife still loosely in one hand.

Disgust.

It hit him hard. Sharp.

A fucking stranger. Touching him. On him. Kissing him.

A guy.

What the fuck.

His gut twisted, something hot crawling up his spine---not nerves, not heat. Just pure, cold disgust.

He wasn't into dudes. Never had been. This wasn't some curiosity moment. This was full-on get the fuck off me territory.

And he was about one second away from throwing this guy off him entirely.

Jungkook's hands shot up, grabbing the guy's arms---tight.

Fingers digging into flesh, enough to leave marks.

A soft wince vibrated against his mouth, but the guy didn't stop.

Didn't even hesitate.

He was eating him up.

Lips moving harder now, mouth open, breath warm and wrong as it spilled across Jungkook's skin.

It wasn't a kiss anymore---it was desperate, unhinged, like the guy was trying to consume him.

And he wouldn't fucking let go.

His legs stayed locked around Jungkook's waist, his fingers curled tight in Jungkook's hair, pulling just enough to sting.

Jungkook twisted, shoved---nothing.

He was stuck, being kissed by a stranger with the grip of a fucking octopus, and it was starting to feel painful. Too close. Too wet. Too much.

He felt sick.

Stomach turning, nausea crawling up the back of his throat.

He couldn't fucking breathe.

"Get off me," Jungkook growled, finally shoving harder, teeth grit, heart hammering---not from heat, not from want---from disgust.

Pure, suffocating disgust.

So he threw him off.

Literally.

Gripped his arms, twisted, and shoved---hard.

The guy hit the ground with a dull thud, palms scraping the pavement as he slid back.

Jungkook stumbled a step, chest rising and falling like he'd just clawed his way out of something filthy.

He wiped his mouth harshly with the back of his hand, as if he could scrape the whole thing off his skin.

Fury sparked through him. No words, no thinking. Just instinct. Just rage.

He raised a fist---ready to fucking swing.

But before he could land it, loud voices broke the air.

"Yo! What the fuck-?!" Hoseok's voice cracked over the street.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi's tone was sharper, confused.

Their footsteps echoed as they ran over, and the guy on the ground looked up---finally.

His eyes flicked between Jungkook and the people behind him.

And then he get away.

No hesitation. Just bolted---fast and quiet, the same way he came, disappearing into the dark without a single word.

Didn't even take the damn book.

Jungkook stood there, fists clenched, chest tight, rage still buzzing just under his skin.

And that disgusting feeling still on his lips.

Footsteps skidded to a stop beside him, breaths sharp, eyes wide---
And for a full two seconds, dead silence.

Then-

"No fucking way."

Mingyu's voice cracked, followed by a laugh that punched the quiet right in the gut.

He doubled over, cackling like he'd just watched the most fucked up comedy skit of the century.

"Did he-was that-holy shit, he kissed you?! That was the guy?!"

Hoseok burst out laughing next, hands on his knees, barely able to breathe. "Dude. What the fuck-what the actual fuck?!"

Jungkook didn't say a word. He just stood there, chest heaving, still trying to shake the feeling off. His mouth burned, not from the kiss, but from humiliation.

"That was-holy shit-I thought he was gonna run," Hoseok wheezed. "Not jump you and eat your face!"

Even Yoongi cracked the ghost of a grin, arms crossed, watching like this was the best entertainment he'd had in months.

"Should've seen your face," Mingyu managed between laughs, wiping under his eye. "You looked like you were about to throw up and die at the same time."

"Shut the fuck up," Jungkook snapped, voice rough.

But that just made them laugh harder.

"And it was a dude," Hoseok added, like it was the cherry on top.

Jungkook's glare snapped to him. "I swear to fucking god-"

Mingyu waved him off, still grinning like a devil. "Nah, nah, it's okay. You're still a badass, bro. Just a badass with a little trauma now."

"Next time, maybe kiss him back," Hoseok joked, dodging the swipe Jungkook threw at his arm.

Jungkook wiped his mouth again, harder this time. "Fuck all of you."

"Already did," Mingyu shot back. "Didn't like it as much as he did, though."

Yoongi finally spoke, voice low. "You keeping the book or nah?"

Jungkook looked down.

The small black book still sat on the ground, right where it fell.

Unopened. Unclaimed.

Like the guy had never been there at all.

Jungkook stared at the book for a second, jaw ticking. It looked small. Harmless. Definitely not worth whatever the fuck just happened to him.

He bent down, snatched it up, and shoved it inside his jacket without a word.

"Aw, look at him," Hoseok said, grinning wide. "Keeping it close. Maybe he did like the free service."

Mingyu gasped dramatically. "Jungkook, baby, was it love at first assault?"

Jungkook made a face like he'd just stepped in something rotten. "Shut the fuck up. That was harassment."

"Yeah," Yoongi said dryly, lighting another cigarette. "Harassment... from the guy you were literally trying to rob."

"Exactly," Hoseok added with a snort. "You were holding a knife, man."

Jungkook ran a hand down his face, wiping his mouth again like it would help. "I didn't ask to be molested."

"And he didn't ask to be robbed," Mingyu pointed out. "You both got something out of it. You lost a kiss, he lost a book. Balanced karma."

"I swear to god-"

"Hey, we're not judging," Hoseok cut in, holding his hands up like a saint. "You looked like you were really feeling it. Gotta say, wasn't expecting your first kiss in months to be from a dude with zero survival instinct."

"Stranger with taste though."

"I wasn't feeling anything except the urge to puke," Jungkook snapped.

"That's what all great love stories start with," Mingyu grinned.

Jungkook flipped them both off without even looking.

The book sat heavy in his jacket now.