Somewhere Near the Peak — Hiking Trail, Late Afternoon
They were halfway up a trail that wound around a mossy hillside, the kind of place Jake said reminded him of childhood—quiet, rugged, not overly dramatic. He walked ahead, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding a water bottle.
Ivory trailed behind, not because she couldn't keep up, but because the view was worth slowing down for. The distant peaks were kissed with sun, the grass whispering with each breeze.
But after twenty minutes of uphill silence and Jake's ridiculous pace, she huffed and picked up speed.
"Hey, slow down, Legolas," she called.
Jake glanced over his shoulder with a faint smirk. "Thought you were the sporty one."
"I am, but I'm also human. My legs aren't emotionally supported by pre work out gym-ed legs, thank you very much."
He chuckled and kept walking.
She jogged a little to catch up, and just as he moved around a bend, Ivory instinctively reached out—fingers catching the back of his shirt, clutching it. Just a quick hold, a tug to ground herself.
Jake stopped.
The world stilled. Birds chirped far away, and the only thing moving was the fabric still clenched in her hand.
He tilted his head slightly, enough for his voice to carry back to her.
"Oh."
Ivory blinked. "Oh?"
Jake turned halfway, not quite facing her. His lips curved into that small, barely-there smile she was learning to catch before it vanished.
"You did it again."
"Did what?" she asked, heart knocking a little faster.
His eyes met hers, quiet and deep. "Made my stomach feel butterflies."
Ivory stared at him.
Jake's voice dropped, almost teasing. "It's a problem, really. This thing you do when you tug my shirt from behind. Very uncalled for."
She squawked—actually squawked—and smacked his shoulder. "You can't just say stuff like that!"
"Why not?" he said, grinning as he kept walking again. "You started it."
She muttered something in dramatic English behind him and didn't let go of his shirt the next time he walked too fast.
***
It had been a few days since their hike and Ivory had been keeping herself buried in work—checking wine barrels, reviewing new bottle designs, running numbers. A distraction. A successful one... until Jake showed up again.
Uninvited.
On a motorcycle.
---
Jake grinned as the old gardener recognized him and opened the side gate. "She's in the cellar, I think," the gardener said, knowingly. "You'll find her."
Jake gave a mock-salute. "Thanks, brother."
He wandered through the vineyard, the scent of soil and grapes lingering in the cool breeze, and made his way toward the cellar entrance tucked at the edge of the property. It was quieter here. Peaceful. The kind of place you could hide in—and Ivory was doing exactly that.
Wine Cellar
She was bent over one of the large oak barrels, her sleeves rolled up, humming something off-key as she tapped a fresh cask.
Jake crept closer like a cat.
One step...
Two steps...
Enough to close the distance...
"What are you doing?"
Ivory screamed. Jumped. Launched herself at him.
"OH MY—JESUS CHRIST—Jake!"
Her arms wrapped instinctively around his neck as she buried her face into his chest, heart pounding. He laughed—wheezed, really—at how effective the scare was.
"I hate you," she muttered.
"I missed you too."
COUGH.
The old gardener stood at the top of the steps, face carefully neutral but his eyes absolutely twinkling. He cleared his throat loudly and turned on his heel, muttering something about "checking the irrigation lines."
Ivory sprang off Jake like he was on fire. "What the hell, Jake?! Why do you sneak around like some horror movie villain?!"
He held up his hands innocently. "It's not my fault you scare easy."
She shoved his shoulder. "Do you know how many barrels I could've knocked over?!"
Jake shrugged. "Would've been worth it if I got to hold you again."
She paused. Blinked. Short-circuited.
"N-no. Shut up!"
He leaned in just a little, grinning like the devil. "Why? You don't like being praised?"
"I don't!"
"Even when I say you look hot when you're flustered?"
Ivory's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
"Shut. Up."
Jake chuckled, full and deep in his chest. "You're really bad at taking compliments, you know that?"
"I'll kill you with a corkscrew."
"You'll miss. You're too busy blushing."
She picked up a rag and smacked it against his arm. "Go back to wherever you came from."
"I did. I came here for you."
Ivory was full-on pink now, hiding behind a barrel like it had protective powers. The banter was interrupted only by the faint sound of distant laughter—the old gardener, still chuckling half a mile away.
Jake leaned against the barrel, his voice softer now. "You've been busy."
"Yeah. Work. Lots of orders. I didn't mean to ignore you..."
"I know," he said. "I just missed the noise. The way you yell when I breathe wrong."
"Don't get used to it," she grumbled, but the corner of her lips were tugging up. "This doesn't mean you can sneak into my property again like some sexy burglar."
Jake's brows shot up. "Sexy?"
Ivory froze. "I—no—shut up. I said stupid. Stupid burglar."
"Too late," Jake said, walking away triumphantly. "I'm printing that on a t-shirt."
After all the fluster and bickering, Ivory poured them both a glass from the barrel she'd been working on.
"Try this," she said, handing him a glass. "It's not done aging yet, but I'm launching it soon. Another sweet one. I don't have many of those, apparently."
Jake took a sip. His brows shot up. "This is good. Really good."
Ivory grinned, swirling her glass. "Still working on the name. Got anything?"
Jake stared at her for a long moment. Her flushed cheeks. The way the setting sun made her skin glow. The color of the wine dancing in her glass.
"Call it... Rosé Blush."
She blinked. "Why Rosé Blush?"
He smirked. "It's the color you turn every time I compliment you."
Ivory huffed, but her cheeks turned pink again anyway.
"Not happening," she muttered, but she wrote it down in her notes app.
(In the future, she does name it that. And JungKook will see it, years later, on a shelf during his military break. And he'll smile. Softly. Longingly.)
Jake leaned back on the wine barrel. "You said you'd teach me how to make wine?"
"If you're up to it," Ivory teased, "it's messy work. Grapes, barrels, numbers, science—"
"Sounds fun."
"But do you have time?"
Jake didn't answer right away. He looked down into his glass, swirling the wine.
Then softly: "Would you let me stay longer?"
Ivory's gaze met his. She didn't smile this time.
"I would. In a heartbeat," she said honestly. "...But I won't keep you."
Jake's lips parted as if to speak, but she gently raised a hand, stopping him.
"You have to face it, Jake. Whatever it is you're running from... it won't disappear just because you're here."
Her gaze softened, but her words didn't falter.
"It's still there—at the back of your mind. Haunting you."
She didn't mention the way his eyes always flickered when his phone vibrated. She didn't have to.
It was always the same name: Manager-hyung.
And it was always the same silence afterward—heavy, unresolved.
She leaned against the barrel next to him, their shoulders almost touching.
"You don't have to do it alone," she added quietly. "But you do have to do it."
Jake stilled. Her words didn't just reach him—they cut through the fog he'd been clinging to since the day he landed here.
He'd told himself it was peace. A break. Freedom.
But in truth, it had been avoidance.
And now, hearing it from her lips—gently, lovingly—it felt like the truth finally had a voice.
His shoulders dropped, the tension bleeding out slowly.
He glanced away for a moment, jaw tightening as if he were holding something back.
When he looked at her again, his eyes were softer. Clearer.
Jake nodded slowly, eyes dropping to his glass. "You're right," he murmured.
No defensiveness. No protest. Just quiet acknowledgment.
"I've been pretending this place could fix everything for me. Like if I stayed long enough, the rest of the world would forget I exist."
He huffed a short laugh, self-deprecating and raw.
"But it's not that simple, is it?"
Ivory didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Jake took a step closer. His hand lifted, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her cheek with the gentleness of someone memorizing a moment.
"Thank you," he said, barely above a whisper. "For not holding me back. Even when I... kind of wanted you to."
A silence stretched between them, but this one felt different. Full of things unspoken, yet understood.
"I just... feel safe here," he admitted. "With you. It's the first time in a long time I feel like I can breathe."
Ivory gave him a small smile then placed her hand to his chest. "Then carry that peace with you. Let it be your armor. Not your escape."
He looked at her again, really looked at her.
"Rosé Blush," he said again, half a whisper.
Ivory chuckled, clinking her glass against his. "You're really sticking with that, huh?"
"It's perfect," he said. "Like you."
Later that evening, back at his Airbnb...
Jeon Jungkook sat on the couch in silence, her words still echoing in the quiet.
He picked up his phone. His thumb hovered over his manager's contact.
And then—click.
"Hyung... I'm ready," he said. "Let's talk. I'll face it."
A pause.
"About goddamn time." Manager hyung says from the other line, gruff but laced with relief.
JungKook let out a soft chuckle, "let's just say someone gave me a moment of clarity."
Manager hyung stilled, it was the first time he has heard him chuckle, let alone talk to him in his serene voice. Making him believe there was finally a light under the tunnel. The first time he sounded like himself, again.
"When do you want to come back?"
"Book me next week... i just have some things to take care of first." He says glancing at the kitchen with ivory's mug she had used before.
Manager hyung okays and hang up.