Flashback | Jungkook's POV
Sayuri was warmth once. Comfort in chaos. Until she wasn't.
The Leaks Begin
It started small. A voice recording posted anonymously—his laugh, soft and tired, calling Sayuri "his comfort."
Then came a late-night video: Jungkook in a hoodie, sitting on the floor of his studio, singing an unreleased track—one he wrote for her. The caption read, "Even idols need someone."
He stared at the screen, ice sliding down his spine. Who recorded this?
When he confronted her, she gasped. "You think I'd do that to you? After everything I've done? I've been with you since before anyone knew your name, Jungkook."
He hesitated.
She cried. Trembled. Touched his chest. "They want to destroy you, Kook. But not me. I'm still here. I've always been here."
He held her. Believed her. Again.
The Gaslighting
"Sayuri, why were you logged into my Cloud?"
"It auto-saved on my phone. You're paranoid."
"Did you talk to Dispatch?"
"I barely even answer unknown numbers. Is that what you think of me now? After I supported your whole career?! I put my life on pause for you."
"...I didn't say that."
"No, but you think it."
Each time he tried to pull away, she'd cling harder. She'd kiss him. Crawl into his lap. Cry into his neck.
"Let's just not fight anymore. You've been so cold lately."
He'd nod. Confused. Exhausted.
And then she'd reach for him again. Her body—her weapon. His weakness.
The Tipping Point
It wasn't just voice notes anymore. Suddenly the world had:
Screenshots of his anxiety breakdown during a bad press week.
A video of him pacing in his living room, crying silently.
A photo of his arm, bruised from punching a wall.
His private playlist titled "When I Can't Sleep."
A text saying "I don't think I'm okay."
His fans were devastated. His company panicked.
Meanwhile, Sayuri's name trended with hashtags like #ProtectSayuri and #JKsMuse.
His Friends Intervene
Yoongi slammed his fist on the studio table. "She's bleeding you dry, Jungkook. Wake. The. Hell. Up."
"She would never," Jungkook hissed, jaw clenched. "You don't know her like I do."
"She's leaking your pain," Namjoon added, quieter but no less firm. "What more do you need?"
"She's all I have left!" Jungkook snapped. "All of you want me to be perfect. She's the only one who accepts me—flaws and all."
"Bro," Taehyung said, voice barely above a whisper, "she's the one creating your flaws."
He walked out.
The Breaking Point
He found a hidden device in his bedroom. A recorder.
Labeled in her handwriting: "For safekeeping."
She came home to him holding it.
Her eyes flicked to the recorder.
Froze.
Flickered back to him.
"You did this," Jungkook said, his voice eerily calm.
"No, I—"
"Stop lying."
His jaw clenched. His hands shook, but he didn't drop the recorder. "It's your handwriting. It's your voice, Sayuri. You recorded me."
Her silence was enough.
And then... she laughed.
"That's what you're mad about?" she said, stepping closer. "Not the fact that I'm the only one who's been there for you while the whole damn world pulled at your limbs?"
"You leaked it."
His voice cracked on the word leaked like it tasted of blood.
She sneered. "So what if I did? You needed the world to see what I saw. That you're not this perfect god they think you are. You're fragile. You're soft. You're mine."
"I was never yours."
That was when her mask dropped.
"You're nothing without me!" she screamed, face contorted with years of suppressed jealousy. "You think your fans would care if they saw the real you? Crying in bed? Begging me not to leave after every stupid fight? Who do you think cleaned up after your panic attacks? Who picked up the pieces when you couldn't get out of bed?"
"You fucking broke me."
"You fucking used me."
Her eyes narrowed. "I saved you. And now you're throwing me away like garbage? After everything I gave?"
"You didn't give. You took."
There was a pause, thick and poisonous. She stepped forward, her voice a venomous whisper.
"You know what the real joke is?"
She smiled, cruel and cold.
"You loved me. You begged me to stay. So whatever this is? This heartbreak you're feeling? You asked for it."
Jungkook stared at her, his breath shaky. His voice dropped low—so low it could've crumbled under the weight of what he was about to say.
"A mistake," he said, eyes blazing, "I don't even have the right to regret."
Sayuri blinked. It was the first time he saw fear in her eyes.
"And that's what you'll always be to me," he added. "A mistake I was too blind to see. Too broken to escape. And too guilty to call out."
He walked out of that room, out of that apartment, out of her—and into the beginning of his silence.
The blackout. The vanishing.
The collapse of Jungkook.
***
SAYURI'S POV: "If I Can't Have the Spotlight..."
He used to look at me like I was the center of his world.
Before the world looked back at him.
Before the stadium lights, the screaming girls, the endorsements. Before he became "Jungkook."
Back when it was just me and him, tucked into a couch with cold takeout and terrible indie movies, dreaming like fools under flickering fluorescent light.
I built him. I knew him before the world molded him.
And now they think he belongs to them? That I'm the villain?
They don't see the real picture.
Sayuri watches the fandom react to the leaked video of Jungkook singing on the floor of his studio.
"He's so soft here," one tweet reads. "I hope he's okay."
The video had 2.4M views in an hour.
Sayuri tilts her head, watching it on her burner account. Her lips curve.
Of course he's soft. That's how I taught him to be. With me.
She clicks open the next clip—his tired voice from their 2AM call. She trimmed out her parts, of course. Just left the ache in his voice. The longing.
"I don't know who I am anymore," his voice murmurs.
Retweets. Shares. Fan edits. Pity.
And Sayuri watches it all from her bed, bathed in the screen's glow like it's a sun and she's the only one worthy of its warmth.
Sayuri's Inner Monologue:
They always said he's too good for me. That I was riding his fame. That I clung too hard.
But they didn't see him crawling into my arms after a breakdown. They didn't hear him say you're my anchor when he couldn't breathe. They didn't see how he begged me to stay, even when I had auditions, shoots, my own world to conquer.
And then... his world got louder than mine. Shinier. Bigger.
I had directors dropping me because "you're not the star in that relationship." I had headlines calling me "Jungkook's clingy girlfriend."
I was a rising star. A child actress with prestige. Before him.
And now I'm fading.
Fading.
Unless I make them remember me.
***
Sayuri watches the world paint her gold.
#ProtectSayuri trends for the third day.
She gives a tearful interview on a talk show, voice cracking on cue. "He just... he needed help. And I tried. I tried so hard."
They applaud. The host offers her tissues.
She smiles through fake tears, already picturing her next script offer.
Sayuri's
They say love is selfless.
But if love is supposed to feel like this—this ache, this madness, this craving for his attention—I'll take madness over invisibility any day.
If I can't have him,
then at the very least...
I'll have the story.