She looks at me, her gaze softening, her lips curving into that pretty, reassuring smile. And even though I want to believe it, want to let it ease the tightness in my chest, I can't shake the uneasy feeling as I watch her walk away with him.

"I have no idea how you can stay so calm, bro," Noah mutters, absentmindedly toying with the cards in his hand. "If she was mine, I'd already have dug him ten feet underground."

I exhale slowly, keeping my eyes locked on her in the distance, my leg bouncing under the table. "I would if I could, but y/n doesn't like when I act like that," I admit, forcing myself to stay put, to not react.

"That's 'cause you're a sub," he shakes his head. "I wouldn't give a shit. If a dude acted that way with my woman, knowing damn well she's taken, I'd blow his head off. The fuck you mean?"

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the fire his words ignite inside me. "I'm lucky enough to have her. I won't ruin it," I murmur, though my eyes betray me, locked on her as Diego makes her laugh. "Women usually don't like younger guys, so I'm not gonna mess up and show immaturity."

Noah leans in, lowering his voice just enough. "It's not immaturity, man. What are you talking about? She's a woman, she doesn't see it the same way we do. But this guy? He's fucking flirting with her, knowing she's taken. He's putting on that sweet, fake-ass personality because he knows she's too good to tell him to fuck off." His finger jabs toward me. "And I'd bet a lot of money he knows exactly who you are to her."

I do not know how to feel. He is feeding the wrong side of me that I attempt to subdue for her.

I sigh, resting my head on my hand as I cannot help focusing on y/n and Diego. My chest tightens as I watch the way she tilts her head back, laughing at something he said. She looks comfortable. Too comfortable. And Diego, he looks too damn pleased with himself.

Why is this hurting me so much? I should trust her, I should be a man, but this causes me so much pain and jealousy to see her interact with him that way.

I force my gaze away for a second, staring at the cards scattered on the table, trying to breathe through the ache creeping up my throat. But I can still see them. I can still see her.

Then it happens.

Diego shifts closer, his body angling toward her, invading her space. At first, it's subtle, a hand on the table beside her, the way he leans in just enough that his shoulder brushes against hers.

She doesn't react right away, probably thinking nothing of it. But I see it for what it is. He's testing the waters. Seeing how far he can go.

My fingers curl into a fist under the table.

She finally moves, shifting slightly away from him, subtly trying to end the conversation without making a scene. However, Diego isn't done.

Before she can take a full step back, his hand finds her waist.

It's not a fleeting touch. It's not accidental. It's deliberate. He grips her just enough to stop her from stepping away, just enough to pull her back closer to him. Despite already crossing boundaries, he doesn't stop. He leans in, close enough that his lips brush just beside her ear, and speaks into it.

Something snaps inside me.

I push my chair back abruptly, the legs scraping against the floor. Noah and Leo's heads dart toward me, but I don't wait for them to say anything. My chest feels too tight, my vision blurring at the edges as I turn away from the table, forcing myself to walk away before I do something I'll regret.

Before I let the anger, the hurt, and the helplessness swallow me whole.

I don't know where I'm going. I just know I can't sit there and watch this happen. I can't sit there and pretend it doesn't feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.

I just leave and go out.

I walk away from people, feeling too affected by my negative emotions to stay still. My breathing deepening under the heaviness of my chest, I lean back against the wall behind me and attempt to calm down the storm happening inside of me.

I know this is wrong. I know this is immature of me to feel that way, but I got too attached. I fell too deeply in love with her to know what to do in this type of situation.

The tightness in my throat becoming painful, I crouch down and cover my mouth with my hand. I hate this feeling so much, I do not know how to control it. It just keeps coming back no matter what.

"Jungkook?" her voice brings my teary eyes to the right. She is standing near, gazing down at me with leaking concern in her eyes. I do not say anything, knowing what will follow my words if I do, the flow of tears threatening to come.

'YOUR P.O.V'

My heart squeezes at the sight of him.

His chest rises and falls too quickly, his eyes glossy and unfocused.

"Baby..." My voice drops to something soft as I lower myself in front of him.

His eyes flicker up, locking onto mine, and for a second, he just stares. His breathing is shallow, uneven. "I don't know how to do it, y/n..." his voice wavers, breaking my heart. "I can't stand to see you with another guy. It hurts so much..."

I exhale slowly, regret creeping in, guilt settling deep in my stomach. "I told him not to touch me anymore," I say carefully, making sure he knows I've set more boundaries with Diego.

He shakes his head, looking away, his jaw clenching like that's not enough. "You don't understand," he straightens up, glancing away.

"I do. I understand the way you feel, Jungkook," I move up as well, reaching out for his face. I wipe his tears away, and he doesn't pull away. He stays still. His glistening eyes dive deep into mine, the unshed tears making them tremble, and their size, their vulnerability, wound me.

"I can feel it in my chest...I love you so much it physically hurts. I know it's wrong, but seeing you show so much affection to him makes me feel so insignificant. As if I wasn't as special as I thought I was to you..." he shakes his head, his sadness seeping through his words.

I swallow the lump in my throat, brushing my thumb over his cheek. "You are special to me," I whisper. "You always have been."

His lips press together, his breath shaky as he leans into my touch, like he's trying to believe me, trying to hold onto the reassurance. But the ache in his eyes tells me it's not that easy. "Do you love me?"

I hold his gaze, my heart tightening at the sheer vulnerability in his voice. His glossy eyes flicker with hesitation, like he's bracing himself for my answer, his lashes trembling with unshed tears.

"I just want you to be honest with me," he whispers, his voice so quiet, so fragile, it nearly breaks me. "I know you're scared to hurt me, but if what you feel isn't love, I want you to tell me."

"Jungkook..." I breathe, my fingers still cradling his face.

I hesitate, not because I don't know how I feel, but because I know the weight my answer carries. Because I know once I say it, there's no taking it back.

I exhale, my thumb tracing the curve of his cheekbone. "I do," I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. "I love you."

A sharp inhale frees his lungs. His lashes flutter, his brows pulling together like my words physically struck him.

"I love you so much," I say again, firmer this time, my other hand lifting to cup the other side of his face. "And I'm sorry for making you feel like I don't."

For a heartbeat, he just stares, his eyes glassy and searching mine. Then, without a word, he leans in and presses his lips to mine.

The kiss is soft but heavy, lingering like he's trying to memorize the feel of me, to drown in it and erase every bit of doubt that had crept into his heart. For a moment, the world around us blurs, the noise and people fading into nothing. But the kiss doesn't last.

When he pulls away, his breath is shaky, and his eyes are pleading, desperate for reassurance. We stare at each other, the silence between us thick with unspoken words.

"Don't doubt my love for you," I murmur, brushing away the wetness streaking his cheeks. His beautiful eyes still shimmer with emotion, raw and vulnerable. "Things wouldn't be the way they are now if I didn't love you back. Okay?"

He nods quietly, his chest rising and falling more evenly now, the storm inside him settling.

I kiss his forehead, my thumb still gently caressing his skin. "Do you want to go back inside and play with your friends?" I ask softly, hoping the night isn't completely ruined for him.

His gaze drops to my lips before lifting back to meet my eyes, his voice low, steady. "If we go back home...I can stay, right? I can sleep at your house?"

The corners of my lips lift, and I nod, my heart softening at the need in his voice. "Of course," I whisper. But I still hesitate. "Don't you want to spend some more time with your friends?"

His response is immediate, unwavering. "No. I just wanna be alone with you."

There's no hesitation in his voice, no second-guessing. Just pure, unfiltered honesty. The way he makes me feel as if I'm the only thing that matters, makes my heart ache in the best way. No one's ever made me feel this important, this cherished. Not even through all the manipulation and gaslighting from my past.

"You're sure?" I ask quietly, not wanting him to regret leaving. "I don't-"

He shakes his head, his gaze soft but resolute. "I'm sure. I see them every day. They'll understand."

I study him for a moment longer before finally nodding. "Alright," I murmur. "Just... tell them, okay? I'll wait for you in the car."

"I'm coming with you," he already pulling out his phone. "I'll text them."

I frown, gently brushing my fingers over his hand. "Baby... You should at least say goodbye."

He exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Alright," he mumbles, reluctantly slipping his phone back into his pocket. He presses a quick kiss to my lips before heading back toward the gym.

While he's inside, I make my way to the car, starting the engine to warm it up for him. As I sit there, the quiet hum of the heater filling the space, I can't help but replay the look in his eyes—the vulnerability, the trust.

When I'm with him, I feel something I haven't felt in years. Safe.

•••

9 pm.

The door clicks shut behind us, the familiar warmth of my apartment wrapping around us like a soft cocoon. As Jungkook takes his shoes and jacket off, his eyes are on me often, dark and unreadable, like he's still afraid I might slip through his fingers if he looks away for even a second.

I shrug off my jacket, hanging it by the door, and turn to look at him. He's sitting on the sofa in the middle of the living room, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders tense.

The vulnerability from earlier is still there, lurking beneath the surface, but now there's something else, something heavier.

"Jungkook," I call softly, stepping closer. I sit down beside him as my fingers find his wrist, tugging his hand free from his pocket. His skin is warm against mine, his pulse steady but strong.

He stares deep into my eyes, his gaze intense and penetrating. He intertwines our fingers with a gentle touch. "Did I disappoint you tonight?"

"No, you didn't," I reply softly, brushing my thumb over his skin. "I just hoped you'd have more fun with your friends and not let Diego get to you like that."

"I'm really sorry," he says suddenly, his eyes dropping to our joined hands. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

My heart clenches. "You didn't ruin anything." I take a step closer, closing the distance between us. "You were honest about how you felt. That's not something to apologize for."

His jaw tightens, his gaze flicking up to meet mine. "But it's not fair to you. I know I get jealous too easily. I just-" He breaks off, exhaling sharply, like he's frustrated with himself. "I just don't know how to turn it off. When I see someone else with you, it feels like..." his voice trails off, but I know exactly what he's trying to say.

Like he's losing me.

I cup his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. "You're not losing me," I say firmly. "You won't lose me."

His eyes search mine, like he's trying to find any hint of a lie, any sign that I don't mean what I'm saying. But there's nothing there except the truth. The truth that I love him. The truth that he's enough.

He leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before opening again. "I don't deserve you," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

"Don't say that," I breathe, my thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "You deserve everything."

For a moment, neither of us moves. We just sit there, the weight of the night pressing down on us, but it's different now. Softer. Lighter. And then, slowly, he leans in, his lips finding mine with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

This kiss isn't rushed or desperate. It's slow, deliberate, like he's pouring every unspoken word, every fear, every ounce of love into it. When he finally does, his breath ghosts over my skin, warm and uneven, his eyes locking onto mine like I'm the only thing anchoring him right now.

His lips linger against mine like he's afraid to pull away, like breaking the contact will shatter the fragile peace we've found in this moment. When he finally does, I look into his mesmerizing eyes and cup his face with one hand.

I cup his face gently, my thumb brushing over the curve of his cheekbone, feeling the tension still humming beneath his skin. I lean in and press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose, feeling him exhale a shaky breath against my lips. "I don't ever want to see you cry because another guy has my attention. It breaks my heart. You're the only man I love, so don't ever feel this way again."

His throat bobs as he swallows, and he gives me a small, almost imperceptible nod, like the weight of his feelings is still too much for words. But I can see it in his eyes, the way they soften, just a little, like he's finally letting himself believe me.

I lean in again, brushing my lips over his, once, twice, before letting them drift to his cheek, then the tip of his nose. Each kiss feels like a promise, a silent vow. And when I pull back, his lips curve into a small, hesitant smile, like the light is finally breaking through the clouds.

Seeing that smile, the real one, not the forced, strained version from earlier, makes something in my chest loosen.

I brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead, my fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary, savoring the calm between us. "Let's eat dessert while we play, hm?" I suggest, my voice light, hoping to pull him back into the simple comfort of being together,

His eyes flicker, and that small smile grows just a bit wider, softening his whole face. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice still low but steadier now. "I'd like that."

I press one last kiss to his forehead before standing, feeling his fingers slip reluctantly from mine. But the air between us feels different now, lighter, warmer, like we've stitched something back together.

•••

00:20 am.

The soft hum of the city outside faded as the night settled in, leaving only the quiet between us. The bedroom was dimly lit, the glow from the streetlights casting faint shadows on the walls. Jungkook lay beside me, his head propped on one hand, his other arm lazily draped over my waist. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles against my hip, grounding me in the warmth of his touch.

My eyes remain on his features, melting into his comforting touch. For a moment, we both make eye contact, and his thumb pauses its movement against my skin.

He tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes searching my face in the dim light. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," a knot tightens in my throat, wondering what's on his mind.