authors note: this is the EPILOGUE, set in the same timeframe as Demimonde - 4 years after the events of the other chapters. if I'm being honest, i didn't really expect people to read NC as it was just meant to be a little supplementary to Demimonde, so I will be doing an authors note chapter that you're more than welcome to ask questions on! It's like half 3 and I cba to proof read 5.5k words all over again, SO HERE U GO xxxx

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FOUR YEARS LATER
(or 3 years, 11 months and 2 weeks, if you're counting (of which Jungkook will have you know, he is absolutely not))

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IT'S KINDA FUNNY, Jungkook thinks, how Daerim never changes. Inflation can hike the rental market, and gentrification can threaten the mom and pop shops, but no amount of investment can spruce this place up.

It's disease-ridden, rotting from the inside out, and Jungkook's well aware that he's just the same. Become at one with the neighbourhood. Is waiting for his demise, too.

The people change. They come, and they go - but a little part of their soul will always be held in Daerim. It'll drip down the cracks in the broken pavements, flood the sewers or fester in the air like the trash piles under mid-summer heat.

When Jungkook sits up on the fire escape above The Zoo these days, he considers how many lost souls are trapped in the concrete. Sometimes -not every time - he wonders if there's still a little bit of you, left in the scuff marks on worn-out zebra crossings. There's one at the end of the alley. You used to cross it sometimes to meet him, that same look on your face that you always sported. It's so nice to see you, the expression would give, but I'm not gonna tell you it. He'd scrunch his nose a little, reciprocating.

But that's a long time ago now. You haven't roamed the streets with him for a long while. About four years. Three years, eleven months and two weeks on the dot. He could work it out, if he really wants to. Always remembers the date for some reason. It seems like it would only serve to hurt him though, so he settles on the approximation.

He's only thinking about you because of his face. It's all beat up, the socket of his left eye definitely a little weaker than it had been that morning. Dry blood crusts around his nostrils, and there's a split on his exceptionally pouted lip.

If he was keeping count - and he is, he's just pretending that he's not - he'd know that it was the eleventh occasion he'd ended up with a bloody nose on account of sticking his dick where he shouldn't have. It's becoming a habit. A ritual.

He's always chasing that high.

The one that he got with you.

But no girl ever really comes close, so he settles for a beaten and broken face in the aftermath. That way, he's able to hold onto the way it felt after you'd left, at least.

Bitter, resentful, broken. That's Jeon Jungkook, alright.

He's been this way for four years now. Why change?

He never expected that you'd stay; he just didn't expect you to leave, either. Not in the way that you did. Not without a word. Not before he'd even had the chance to figure things out with you.

Last he'd heard, you'd been engaged to marry a Junior Partner from the firm that your father worked at. He'd read it in the Financial Observer. Not that he reads financial newspapers regularly, but he does like to see if your father has been mentioned - see if you've been mentioned.

He'd just been flicking through a copy on the counter in the internet cafe, chancing his luck.

And he then spent the subsequent three days on an absolute fucking bender. Didn't tell Yoongi why. Didn't tell Jimin either.

But Jimin actually does read the Financial Observer, and he'd recognised your name. Remembered how Jungkook went from hissing it with unadulterated loathing, to the way his eyes sparkled with adoration whenever he cancelled on plans to go and film with you, instead.

"She's still in the fucking city," Jungkook had eventually lamented in the early hours of a cold Tuesday morning, when the coke was dissolving from his system, and the alcohol couldn't numb the pain anymore.

Yoongi just sat, nodding, not trying to offer any bullshit advice to make him feel any better, other than, "it's a big city, kid."

And Yoongi was right.

Because Jungkook hadn't seen you in the two years you had been gone, and he doesn't see you for the following two years, either. Doesn't even look for you as he passes vacant alleys, anymore.

Until, eventually, he thinks he does.

Think he sees you, that is, crossing the road just a few blocks from Daerim.

Within touching distance of danger, but far away enough to not be dancing with the Devil.

Though it would have been hard, 'cause you had a kid resting on your hip.

He's not sure it was you. The woman - because he's refusing to refer to her as 'you', just in case - wore her hair up, twisted and held in place with a claw clip. Loose hairs tumbled on either side of her face, but a pair of dark glasses hid her eyes. She was dressed for the weather, a pale blue sundress tenting around her body. The distinguishing features that he would have recognised in a heartbeat were all hidden... and yet he couldn't help but stare like a man possessed.

It's why Ahn had been able to get an advantage over him, and is why Jungkook's face currently looks like it belongs in the chiller rooms at the Butcher's place. Stupid fucking prick. Yeah, maybe Jungkook shouldn't have fucked his wife, but marriage is just a capitalistic scheme that serves to stunt personal growth. It's not Jungkook's fault that Ahn's wife had wised up to that. It's not Jungkook's fault that Ahn doesn't realise that if he just fucked his wife right, then she'd have never given Jungkook a second look.

Though she probably would have. He's still just as handsome as he always has been.

And while he believes that marriage is a scam, the fact that he knows you're engaged to be married still tears away at what little is left of his soul.

Doesn't know why.

The fact that it was to a Junior Partner at your fathers firm suggests that you'd gone back grovelling to your family, so apparently, you weren't the girl he thought you were. All of it had been a lie, he decides as he hoists himself off the fire escape and down the steps to the alley below.

All a lie.

Just like the lie he's telling himself as he walks towards the main street; that he's not timed it perfectly in the hopes that he'll see her again.

It's just to check that it's not you. Just to confirm. You haven't been around these parts in years. Why now? Why here?

As he watches and waits for the light to turn green, he's overwhelmed with red. It's in the tiny bulbs that form the shape of a flashing man, and in the paintwork of the car that's humming just over the stop line, edging forward. There's crimson in the cheeks of an ajumma wearing far too many layers for such a warm day, and there's scarlet in on the department store signage behind you.

And then there's you: a blood-red flag just begging for a bull to crash into it. A facilitator of destruction. Another punch to the fucking face that would leave his nose dripping.

You're wearing black today. Hair back in a claw clip, again, but you're alone. The kid you had with you is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps you're a nanny, he thinks. Went from being a sugar baby to taking care of actual babies, maybe. You'd never seemed very maternal, but you also didn't seem like the type to run back to your family, and as far as he was concerned, you'd done exactly that.

He doesn't know about the ultimatum. Doesn't know it felt like your only option. Doesn't care, either. Or so he tells himself.

There's a casual vacancy to his stare, ice in his delivery despite the sweltering mid-summer humidity that dampened his skin. Shoulders broad, a loose t-shirt hangs over them, hiding the body that has only matured since you last saw it. Something tells you that the slight gape to his pout won't last long; that it will fade into the same scowl that he used to throw at you in class.

And sure enough, it does.

It's amazing, you think, how he hasn't changed a bit in the past four years.

Except for the fact he has. Changed more than you could imagine. Done things he never thought he would, become the man he always told himself he'd never be.

Yet when he looks at you it's like all those years, months, weeks have just eroded. He's a scared kid once again. His chest hurts, like someone is scratching at the bones of his ribs. It's you. He's sure of it. Carving out your name on the cage that has been protecting his heart, the same cage that he thought had been empty since you'd left.

But he can feel it now, thump, thump, thumping away.

"Hey neighbour," you say. You sound tired. Weathered. But, frustratingly, just as angelic as you always had done. "Got any sugar?"

The joke isn't lost on him, but he doesn't smile. Doesn't do anything. Just kind of stands there, looking at you.

There's a distance between you that outstretches the alleyway. It goes on for miles and miles, across vast seas and treacherous mountain ranges. You'll never reach him. Not now. It's impossible. You aren't a strong enough sailor, not a skilled enough climber. You'd have never left if you were.

He shakes his head. "Sugar rots your insides."

Sounds of the city roar on by like a dragon, and Jungkook wants it to swoop along and gobble him up. Just swallow him whole. Save him from this; you.

He glances down. Checks your hand. There's no ring - but he can tell that there was. A band of pale skin halos around the top of your ring finger.

And then he noticed the smudged reminder on your hand in blue biro. He can't read it all, but it looks like a shopping list: apples, fabric conditioner, gochujang.

The last sentence seems to be more of a reminder: daycare bill due.

At least that what he thinks it says. It's a little too smudged to tell. His eyes squint, trying to get a better focus, but you notice and pull your sleeve down.

It's too late. You know this. He's seen it, now.

And he doesn't know what stings the most: the fact that you got out and had a family, just like he had always wanted, or the fact that you did all those things without him.

He doesn't know what to say. Nor do you.

So you just sort of look at one another, like a pair of lost stars trying to find their way back to one another. He blinks slowly, once, twice, trying to read your eyes. He draws a blank.

Stellar collisions only occur once every 10,000 years. Yet here you both are, four years after the first time, about to do it all over again.

What both of you fail to realise is that colliding at such speed leads only to destruction. Four years ago, you'd ravaged one another, leaving only hydrogen vapours in the air that once surrounded the pair of you.

You don't know much about the stars.

But your baby girls' favourite Sunday morning show is presented by Arno the Astronomer, and last week had been the 'rare occurrence' special episode.

Two stars, he had said, when moving slowly, could merge together and create a newer, brighter star. A blue straggler, or so it's called.

Eventually, Jungkook breaks the silence.

"Daycare?"

It's less of a question, more of an acknowledgement.

You consider lying.

But you can't. Not to those eyes.

"Daycare."

"A kid?"

Again, it's not really a question. Jungkook is just trying to make sense of things.

"A kid," you nod, and Jungkook is crushed by the way your voice softens. "Haneul."

"Haneul," Jungkook smiles tenderly as he nods, before his gaze falls to the floor, devastated. "Like the sky?"

You nod. "Like a bright blue sky."

Hope in a world full of hardship.

Or, the voice of Arno the Astronomer taunts you, like the merging of two stars.

"She look like you?" Jungkook asks, trying to remember you with a mini-me on your hip. He'd been so focused on you that he didn't even give the kid a second glance. He's never thought of you as a mother. Has only ever thought of you as how he'd known you. He's been stagnated for so long, it seems as if he forgot that the world keeps turning, even when he doesn't.

You're sad when you shake your head with a soft smile. He remembers that look. It's the same, regretful expression you shared when you told him about your family fall-out. Something personal. Something you're not sure you want to share with him - but something you'll share nonetheless.

"Looks just like her dad. Same eyes."

Same damn eyes that you can never lie to.

The illusion that Jungkook has been building in his head shatters. "He about? Her dad?"

Jungkook doesn't want to know the answer. Not really. He'll be upset either way.

Your response is mechanical. It has to be. You can't be dealing with feelings. Not right now.

"No."

Jungkook purses his lips together, kicking at the ground a little before shaking his head with a sour laugh. "Asshole."

Silence. Again. It's fucking horrible.

But what's even worse is the way that you can see the stars burning out in his eyes as he tilts his head. One by one, they're disappearing.

You don't realise it, but it's because all of his energy is elsewhere. He's thinking. Considering. Working things out.

"Koo-"

"How old is she?"

He notices your pause. Notices the way your breath is stuck in your throat. Suffocating you.

"Sugar," he speaks quietly, and it reduces you to ashes.

You know what he's asking, even if he isn't brave enough to ask it outright.

"Can we go somewhere?" You ask nervously. A street corner on the outskirts of Daerim isn't the place for this. Although, perhaps it's the perfect place for this. Perhaps it couldn't be more fitting if it tried.

Jungkook wants to say no. Wants to scream fuck you, you selfish, self-serving, secretive bitch. He wants to shout at you for fucking abandoning him in the way that you did, and then he wants to kiss you until his lungs give out. It's all very conflicting.

Instead, he simply shrugs. "Zoo is round the corner. Booths are empty," he speaks mindlessly, forgetting that not everyone is so used to existing in whore houses, but not giving you the chance to debate it. "We can get in through the back. Hobi and Demi are the only ones in."

You're surprised to hear Hobi's name. Thought for sure he would have been on the cutting board after your departure.

When you had heard Jungkook on the phone to him all those years ago, you didn't make the connection that Hobi was actually Hoseok - the man who had interviewed you for a job at the zoo. Bar work, may you add.

The sugar baby thing had kind of been an accident. Most things in your life tended to be, the good and the bad.

It wasn't until Namjoon quizzed you on exactly what you knew about Holangi before he let you leave, that the penny finally dropped on Hobi's identity.

Demi is a new name, but one that rolls off Jungkook's tongue with ease. A feminine name, you note, a little uncertain of her role in his life. He doesn't care to give you the specifics.

Though, truthfully, his name dropping is thanks to the innate comfort that comes with being in your presence. Still, after all this time, he wants to share with you. He hates himself for it.

You follow as he leads, up the thin alley that smells like fermenting piss. Ahh, you think. Some things never change. Jungkook bangs against the steel door with a flat palm, once, twice, three times. There's a brooding authority to him now that he's never had before, and you hate how much you like it.

Eventually, it creaks open, a well-dressed woman welcoming him with a raised brow.

"We have a front door, yanno?" She laughs, and it's pleasant, her eyes flickering over to you. Jungkook doesn't notice the change in her features; the way the muscles behind her brows contort to ask 'why are you here?'

Because even though Demi might be a new name to you, her face isn't. In fact, you know it pretty well - but now's not the time to play catch up with the girl who sits across from you in Bokhyeon Medical Facility every Thursday evening. You'll see her again, at the end of the week, no doubt. You've things to discuss, after all.

"There's no cut-through," Jungkook remarks about the alley as he walks in past her, resisting the urge to hold his hand out for you. "Takes ages to get round to the front. Hey -" he turns to face her, pleasantness to his tone "- Can I borrow booth five quickly? No funny business."

"Hold your horses," she gestures, hands like stop signs. She's known Jungkook for long enough now to know that there absolutely will be funny business. "Club's empty. Just use the bar."

"Dem-"

"Bar. I'll be in office and Hobi won't be back in until later."

Jungkook moves a little closer toward's Demi, his eyes soft, just like they are whenever he asks her to pick him up ramyeon from the corner shop. His voice is soft. Quiet. Pleading. "Really need privacy, Dem. Yoongi ever tell you about Sugar?"

She looks over to you, and then back to Jungkook.

"Briefly," she nods, joining the dots. She doesn't know all that much, she just knows that Jungkook was getting out of the rat race until Sugar showed up - and subsequently disappeared. She understands that you must be to Jungkook what Yoongi is to her. Digging into her pockets, she gives Jungkook a warm smile, before handing him a key. "I'll be in the office."

Finally alone, he guides you into booth five. He's never been in there before. Yoongi had always prevented both him and Jimin from ever getting access - but Demi wasn't in the booth now, so it didn't really matter. Though, he probably would subtly mention the emerald green walls and L-shaped sofa that ran along the back walls just to wind Yoongi up. Get him questioning just how the fuck he knew what the inside of the booth looked like.

"Sit," he nods towards the sofa, and you do so, rather gingerly. He doesn't join you. Remains stood with his back against the wall. Nibbling on his lip, he stalls. Doesn't know what to say to you. Is too hurt, too angry. So he starts off easy. "Fiancé?"

"Ex."

"Why?"

"Incompatible," you say, but it doesn't quite cut it. Not really. He had been beginning to have issues with how an illegitimate kid would fit into his family portraits. Haneul was a non-negotiable, for you. Of course she was. She was your fucking daughter.

You'd always found it so curious, how Taehyung's sister had responded so coldly to their father's death all those years ago - but once yours popped his clogs too, only last week, you understood.

You'd broken off the engagement the very same day.

Freedom.

It had only taken you four days to make your first appearance in Daerim.

"How'd you know?" You ask, curious.

Jungkook is honest, and tells you about the newspaper. He'd have known about your father dying, too, if Jimin hadn't seen the obituary first and pulled it out.

Everything feels sparse. He knows he should ask more. He knows he should ask why the fuck you left, and why the fuck you're back, but all he can think about is the little girl who was hugged into your side as you crossed the road the day before. Your little girl.

"Haneul's dad?" Jungkook asks of your former partner. It hurts to hear him say her name. Utterly decimates your heart.

But, see, the thing is, you know that your answer is only gonna hurt Jungkook more than you could possibly imagine. You don't wanna do it. Don't wanna tell him.

But he's looking at you now with those eyes you can't lie to.

He's looking at you with the same eyes as your little girl.

Your head shakes, and from the reddening of your eyes and the blush painting the tip of your nose, he knows. He fucking knows, but he needs to hear you say it. His chest feels like it's about to cave in.

"Three," you whisper, lip trembling pathetically. You aren't looking at him. You're looking at his hands. They're tensed, tattooed, hugging into each other as if to check that they're still there. "You asked me how old she is. She turned three two months ago."

He can't breathe. He's pretty sure he's dying. Already dead, maybe.

"Kook-"

"Please don't fucking talk," he speaks coldly, unable to process anything except for his pain. "She's..."

And then he looks at you, and those eyes that you adore so much are all bloodshot and raw, just like Haneul's after a nightmare. You want to console him, to make him feel better, to tell him that the monsters who go bump in the night will never get him, because you'll be there to protect him.

But he isn't your daughter. And you weren't there to protect him when the monsters came for him four years ago.

When he speaks, his voice is just as broken as he is. "Does she know?"

And for some reason, all the guilt, all the self-loathing, resting so heavily on your shoulders makes you defensive. You're in protection mode again, but this time it's for your daughter.

"Know what?" You almost laugh. You hate yourself for it, but you're a mess. Playing with fire, coming to Daerim, it was always bound to happen, and you know that. "That her daddy runs drugs? No, Jungkook. She's three. Of course she doesn't."

"Fuck," he hisses. "No. Not that. I mean does she know," he pauses, and suddenly your heart fucking aches again. He looks at you, and you swear those big dark eyes might just swallow you whole. "Does she know I exist?"

"She..."

You pause.

After realising that he is, in fact, still alive, Jungkook wants to die. The idea of his daughter not knowing who he is utterly devastates him. He always swore you made him feel like he was in heaven, but you were sending him straight down into hell.

Finally, you speak again as he's spiralling.

"I have a little projector in her room," there's a hesitation to your voice, as if you're telling him a secret. You suppose you are. "It plays a lullaby when she's going to sleep, and I... I made this little video. It's just the city. Rolling on by. Plays on loop. The footage is all from that dumb fucking project we did."

Jungkook hasn't watched it since you left. Jimin had to be the one to submit it for him. So fucked by the fact that he was under Holangi's thumb and devastated by the fact you'd left, Jungkook couldn't deal with any more 'facts' at the time. The project got submitted, but he never completed any of the other coursework. Flunked out.

Once he learned the truth behind the Holangi Honour Scholarship, he just kind of gave up. What was the point? He was destined for this.

Yoongi had missed his finals, too, trying to bargain with Ungnyeo to let the kid off. He had the funds to make up for it, and Yoongi knew damn well that the drugs were probably still within Holangi circles - but she was having none of it. The new King had been in the booths, sampling the women of the Zoo, not really providing much help at all.

And so Yoongi had offered himself up in Jungkook's place. Ungnyeo didn't give a shit - told Hobi to work it out for her. She had more pressing things to tend to - like arranging a funeral for Daddy Dearest.

Four years later, and Yoongi was the best in the distribution business, with Jungkook working closely behind him. Jimin, too. The stagnant job market, and the three months spent earning minimum wage at a coffee shop, that greeted him after university had left him unsatisfied. It was a natural progression, Jimin thought.

You pull your knees to your chest, feet resting on the pad of the sofa as you hug your legs into yourself.

"I have a shot of you," you say quietly. "It's just you, laughing up on the water tower. She... She knows. She knows that that's daddy."

Jungkook doesn't say anything. What is there to say? Thanks for the kid, now where's those three years you deprived me of?

"Daddy is always smiling in her mind. Daddy wants to see her sooo much," your voice softens, as if you're talking to your daughter. Reciting the lines you've told her a thousand times. "Daddy is a prince from a far, far away country. Daddy has to protect his Kingdom from the bad men, because Daddy is a hero. When she's a big girl and can help protect the Kingdom, she can go and visit Daddy, but until then, Mummy has to keep her safe for him. Grandpa and Grandma don't know about Daddy because Mummy was sworn to secrecy to protect his Kingdom. It's a secret," your eyes sparkle as you lie. It's a fine art that you've perfected to keep your daughter believing in the magic of her father. You can't lie to her, not when her eyes are like his, but you can tell her stories. "Daddy loves you sooo much," you recite. Jungkook's fucking crying, now. Wet cheeks. Running nose. Sobbing. "Mummy and Daddy love you, baby girl. Did Mummy love Daddy? Lots and lots. But not as much as Mummy loves you."

You punctuate the sentence with a smile, which quickly fades.

"So yeah, she knows you exist, Jungkook. Or at least a version of you. Fuck knows what I'm gonna do when she's old enough to call out my bullshit."

"I wish you had told me," he whispers.

And then he's angry.

Really fucking angry.

Blood pumping so hard that his fresh wounds are threatening to burst.

"How could you not tell me?!" He shouts. "How dare you keep my fucking child from me?"

"The fuck was I supposed to do?!" You stand, now, mirroring him - but your brows are knotted together, pleading for him to understand. "Holangi gave me an ultimatum, Kook. The guy I'd been seeing was running it all, and then he went and fucking died. His kids wanted me for something, and their assistant gave me a way out. I didn't have a choice-"

"Oh please," he snarls. "There's always a choice."

"My choice was to be royally fucked up the ass by Holangi, or leave, Kook," you emphasise. He isn't a woman, and he's never worked in the sex industry. He doesn't get it. "I'd have ended up here. In a fucking brothel-"

"I never would have let that happen."

"Oh," you snort. "You really think you'd have been able to stop it, huh? You had all my fucking money, enough to pay off your debt and then some, but you're still here. Why didn't you stop it for yourself?"

The answer was simple: because he couldn't. You were right.

"So six months down the line, when I'm showing, and we're going to baby scans together and picking out names, you think you'd have been happy with me here? You'd have wanted sick fucking perverts with pregnancy kinks taking their deprived pleasure out on me?"

Jungkook was going to be sick. He was certain of it.

"I could have protected you. You never gave me a chance," his chokes a little, cheeks damp. You reach up to brush his tears away. He flinches at first, but it's like a hit of crack fucking cocaine. His hand reaches up to clasp yours as he leans into your touch. Never realised how much he needs this. Needs you. "You didn't have to leave."

But you did. And deep down, he knows this. He just hates it. Doesn't want to admit to it.

There's no desire in your to fight back. You just apologise. Over and over. Repeat it like an oath. And then he starts to apologise, too, and it's just the pair of you crying and begging for forgiveness in a desperate attempt to heal the wounds of the past. Cheeks are wet, chins too, noses blushed. Neither of you are breathing quite right. He sobs. So do you. Promise him you never meant to do so much harm. Assures you that he knows, and that he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry. More sorry than you could ever imagine. He'll patch each and every one of your wounds up, and you'll kiss down on his band-aids just like you do with Haneul. You'll make it better. Make it right.

Somewhere in the mess of hiccuped apologies and desperate grasping onto one another just to stay fucking standing, Jungkook kisses you. Tells you that he can do it now. Tells you that he's stable. Got job security. Doesn't have a place of his own, but fuck it, he's got enough to put a deposit down on somewhere cheap, as long as Haneul doesn't mind not having a garden. He'll compromise, find somewhere with a really great park. Kisses you more. Tells you how he's thought about you every single day for four fucking years. Takes your shirt off. Says that no ones ever made him feel like you. And fuck, Demi said no funny business, but he needs this, needs you. Now. Forever. Eternally.

It's a mess, quite frankly. Your body had changed, and so has his, and yet they both respond in the same way they did in the dreary confines of your banjiha all those years ago. He doesn't really stop crying, not until he's bottomed out and fucking you like he really means it. Doesn't stop kissing you. Not once. Only to tell you that you're 'so, so pretty. Prettiest girl in the whole entire world. Missed you so much. Yeah, just like that, baby. Shit, I missed those hands. Keep going. Keep-ah. Keep going. Need to feel you. Look at me, baby. Gotta see those eyes. Fuck. That's it. No, not until you do. Shit. I'm there. I'm there. I-. Fuck.'

It's when he's playing with your hands afterwards, bodies clammy and spent, that he starts asking the important questions.

"Who's her favourite superhero?"

You laugh, body vibrating against his, as he brings your knuckles to his lips. He's gonna let that tan line on your finger even out, he's decided, and then he's gonna get you a ring that you'll never take off. He's a bit cum-drunk, admittedly, but he swears down to himself that he means it. Doesn't believe in marriage, but he believes in you.

"She likes Thor," you smile, eyes hazy and galaxy saturated. "He makes her laugh so much."

Jungkook pouts, tilting his head. "Thor?!"

"Don't be a big baby," you laugh, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. You think that this must be what contentedness feels like. "You'll have to show her the errors of her ways. Get her on the Iron Man agenda - although actually, I'm not sure I want him as her favourite."

"He's a severely misunderstood character," Jungkook begins to defend a fictional character, and then he realises what you said. "I can show her?"

You nod against him, slowly. The contractions of his chest rising and falling deepen.

"Not yet," you add. "But if this is something you're serious about-"

"I've never been more serious in my whole entire life," he swears.

And that's the thing about Jungkook's eyes. You can't lie to them, but they can't lie to you either.

"There's a lot to figure out," you whisper. He knows this. He knows that no one wants a fucking drug dealer to father their children.

But he was gonna get out, once upon a time. He was gonna do something with his life. So why not start again? Why not now?

He's always had drive.

As he chases through the city a little while later, with your arms around him, legs keeping him snug, he has direction, too.

And when he watches from across the street, careful so the Haneul doesn't see him, as you pick her up from daycare, it seems like he has a final destination.

You glance over to him as Haneul grabs onto your hand, and starts to babble on about her day. He's beaming. Fucking glowing. Absolutely angelic. He raises his palms flat to his chest, covering his heart.

Haneul giggles as you pick her up and dapple her tiny little face in kisses, spinning her round in the middle of the pavement.

"Who's your favourite superhero?" you whisper against her cheek, just to check you hadn't been telling Jungkook porkies earlier. You're sure it's Thor. She calls him Hammer Man.

She's still giggling. Jungkook can't hear the conversation, but he's decided that he is disgustingly in love with the both of you.

She whispers back, imitating you. "Iron man."

"God damn it."