The Night Before Everything
[Jake/JungKook's POV]
It was past midnight.
The city had gone still. But I couldn't sleep. Not even with Ivory curled beside me—her breathing deep, soft. Her hand was resting on my chest, like she always does when she's subconsciously worried.
I watched her.
The curve of her nose. The way her lips pressed together gently, like she was still guarding something in her dreams.
I didn't want to wake her. I didn't want to ruin the little peace she had left.
So I carefully slipped out of bed, pulled on one of her oversized cardigans—she always teased me for wearing them—and walked to the dining table. The only light came from the kitchen hood lamp, and the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound.
I took out the pen and paper I had hidden in a drawer.
And I started writing.
I folded the letter—two pages. I slipped it into her luggage, where her skincare pouch would be. She'd see it. I made sure of it.
Then I grabbed my phone.
Texted Hyung.
Yoongi-hyung. I need a favor.
Can you send her off tomorrow?
I knew he was awake. He always was.
His reply came quickly.
Yeah. I'll be there. She needs silence. I got her.
I smiled.
Seokjin would've tried to lighten the mood too much. Hoseok would've cried before Ivory even left the building. But Yoongi? He would know how to quietly hold space. Like a big brother.
Then I made the call I'd been avoiding—Ivory's mother.
"Jake?" her voice was soft, sleepy.
"I'm sorry for calling you at this hour," I said. "But... I need to let you know something."
I explained everything. The change in flight. The reason.
There was a long pause on the other end.
And then I heard a quiet sniffle.
"Thank you, Jake..." her mother said, voice breaking. "For thinking of her. For not letting her be alone."
"She's... everything to me," I said. "I know she needs her parents now. She needs you."
After the call, I sat in the living room for a while. Let the silence sink into me. Watched the moon. Thought of all our memories.
The Next Day
I dressed in silence. My military uniform didn't need fixing, but I adjusted it anyway.
Ivory came to me, half-awake, eyes glassy. She reached out with shaking fingers. I kissed them gently—her ring still shining.
A few hours later, her parents came. My mother cried as soon as she saw me. "It's different now," she said. "You're not on a screen anymore. You're... real. Leaving."
My dad hugged me awkwardly. "Come home. For dinner. When you can."
We rode in silence. Ivory sat behind, giving my mom space to hold my hand. It felt like I was five again, being dropped off at kindergarten. But this time, the goodbye was real.
Only Yoongi, Jin, and Hobi came. Jimin came later, with his own family. It was a blur.
Then Ivory stepped close to me.
I couldn't say goodbye. I didn't trust my voice. My mouth.
So I kissed her.
Soft. Slow. Memorizing her one last time.
"I'll update you. Pictures. Texts. Everything. If there are times that I can't. Jimin will. My secretary." I tried to joke. But she didn't even smile, as if she had been trying hard not to crack.
"Okay." Was all she could muster.
"I love you."
"I love you." She said back. Her lip trembled a little. "Always. More than anything. Anyone but you."
Those words burned in me. In my chest. In my memories. How her eyes started to glisten but never did a tear dare leave her eye. Truthfully speaking if she were to cry I'd just drop everything, and I'm using every ounce of my strength to barely keep hanging on. The glint of the diamond ring flashed, and I held her hand.
Biting back words, I might choke. Caressing her bony fingers, her ring finger, reminding her of my promise.
I waved. Smiled.
And walked through the gate with Jimin beside me.
I didn't look back.
Because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to leave.
But in my heart, I whispered:
"I love you, Allegra. More than you'll ever know. Always. Forever. Anyone but you."
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"Constellations of Her"
The door clicked open, and for a moment, I just stood there.
It smelled like her.
Warm, like vanilla and mild fruity like cotton. I hadn't been home in months, but the scent hit me the second I stepped inside. My duffel slid off my shoulder and landed with a quiet thud. I didn't move.
I was bracing myself for silence. For the cold, empty stillness of a space we once called home.
But instead... she was here.
Everywhere.
Not in person. But in paper. In ink. In every single freaking corner of my penthouse, like she'd left breadcrumbs of herself for me to follow back.
The mirror greeted me first.
"Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the prettiest sleepyhead of them all? Still you. Even with eye crust."
I snorted. Actually snorted.
The espresso machine had one too.
"This saved us. And by us, I mean me. Thank you for always making coffee even if you hate waking up super early to grind the beans, ya rich roast."
God, she's insane.
The cabinet. The fridge. My cereal box.
"You're loyal to two things: me and this brand."
She wasn't wrong. I smiled wider.
There was even one on the fridge door beside a polaroid of us in Jeju—she was laughing, hair flying in every direction, and I was pretending to pout.
"Reminder: You once said this photo is your lockscreen. I hope it still is. If not, I'll haunt you."
My eyes burned a little.
I didn't realize how much I missed her until now.
The bedroom was worse. Or better. I don't even know anymore.
On her side of the bed, a note in the shape of a heart.
"Sleep here. Dream well. I put my hand here so you can sleep with my heartbeat. Kinda cheesy, but whatever."
I sat down. Just... sank. The weight of everything caught up to me all at once. The training. The discipline. The exhaustion. The silence without her.
The ache of not being able to call her when I wanted to. Not being able to see her, or touch her.
My phone buzzed.
A voice note.
My fingers trembled slightly when I tapped play.
"Jake... if you're hearing this, then yay, you're finally online! My parents just dropped me at the airport and guess where I'm flying to now? Yep. Iceland. Your yellow is on her way home. Or at least... to where we began."
I closed my eyes.
God, her voice. The way she said "your yellow." Like it was sacred. Like it was only ever mine.
I didn't reply.
Didn't need to.
I stood up slowly, legs still heavy from weeks of drills, and crossed the room to my closet. Pulled out my travel case.
Packed light, like always.
My sweaters—the ones she always stole because she said they smelled like "boyfriend energy."
The cologne she loved. "Two sprays max, or you'll smell like a middle-school crush," she used to joke.
And then, from the drawer—her photo. The one of her laughing in that ridiculous yellow jacket. Mid-laugh. Mid-life.
I slid it into the passport sleeve. Right where it belongs.
Zipped it up. Took one more look around.
My penthouse looked like a galaxy of her. Little stars of sticky notes glowing in the low light. She left herself behind in all the places I needed her most.
I didn't text her back.
I didn't say a word.
I let my actions speak.
Because I was on my way.
To Iceland.
To her.
To us.
***
On the way to the airport, I passed by an elegant boutique that looks like it naturally catered celebrities. From the way the luxurious flowers bloomed across the glass was breathtakingly gorgeous, making me feel like I don't want to pop up in Iceland empty handed.
My eyes went straight to the strikingly red Bulgarian roses. The same kind of roses Ivory once gave my ex. The same kind of red she posted online months ago.
(Flashback)
I hadn't meant to call them.
But after that night... after everything she did—I couldn't sleep. My brain was buzzing, heart pounding in some weird rhythm I couldn't slow down.
So I called Yoongi-hyung. And as expected, Jimin was with him.
"Hyung," I said as soon as Yoongi picked up. His voice was faint—he was clearly at dinner with Jimin, probably having drinks, probably not expecting this call.
"You're alive," Yoongi said flatly. "Jimin said you either eloped or ended up in jail."
I huffed a small laugh, dragging my hand through my hair. "Neither. But... something happened."
"What now?" came Jimin's voice in the background, nosy as hell.
I leaned against the railing. My heart still hadn't caught up with everything I saw tonight. "Ivory... she handled Sayuri."
Yoongi said nothing. He knew what that meant.
"She gave her roses," I said, quietly. "Roses, hyung."
Still nothing. Not even a sigh.
"She talked to her," I went on, my voice catching. "Didn't argue. Didn't yell. Just... listened. Said she didn't want bitterness left in her heart. Told her goodbye."
Silence. Then a whistle from Jimin. "Your girl's got a PhD in emotional judo."
Yoongi finally snorted. "More mature than you, obviously."
I laughed. Soft, stunned. "She didn't need to do that. She didn't have to understand, hyung. But she did."
There was a lump in my throat I hadn't noticed until now. Not the kind that made you want to cry—just the kind that reminded you that you're still human. That something cracked you wide open.
Ivory didn't fight fire with fire. She didn't storm out, didn't throw words like knives. She gave kindness. Grace.
And she still chose me.
"You found yourself a rare one, kid," Yoongi said finally. "Hold onto her. Tight."
I turned, looking through the glass door. Her silhouette curled into the pillow, her lashes resting against those cheekbones I always touched when I kissed her.
"I am," I whispered, more to myself than to them. My chest burned. "I am."
"Yo, wait," Jimin suddenly said. I heard the rustle of him shifting and squinting at his phone. "You guys seeing this?"
I sat up straighter. "What now?"
He flipped the camera. A post. Sayuri.
My stomach didn't drop—but it did twist. A slow, cautious thing.
Yoongi leaned in, already bracing. "Read it out loud, drama queen."
And Jimin did.
"Sometimes, a single gesture can make you see the world differently."
The first sentence made my chest tighten.
"Thank you to the soul who gave me these beautiful Bulgarian roses."
"(And no, they're not from Jungkook, please stop speculating)."
I exhaled—only to suck it back in.
"I owe an apology to the person I hurt the most publicly, and I realize it now.
I don't know where my path will take me after this,
but I want to end my villain era here. Maybe take a break, detox from social media, find real healing.
Thank you to everyone who stayed kind through my mistakes."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then Jimin read the last line:
"And PS: To Jungkook — if you ever let her slip away, I will personally hunt you down and grab you back."
My lips twitched. I didn't say anything. Couldn't, really.
Yoongi spoke first, voice low. "Well, Daaaamn."
"That's like... sincere," Jimin added, scratching his head. "And these roses — Bulgarian roses, man. Do you know how expensive these are?"
Yeah. I did.
Because I'd watched Ivory order them herself, days ago. Called three separate florists just to make sure they were flown in, fresh. I remembered her fingers tapping her phone screen, her lips pursed, and her voice casual as hell when she said, "She's still a woman. I'll speak woman."
Back then I brushed it off thinking it was for her business.
"She didn't have to do that," I murmured.
But she did.
"She didn't want revenge," I said, more to myself now. "She wanted peace. Even for someone who broke us. Broke me."
"Those aren't just roses," Yoongi muttered. "That's a whole olive branch wrapped in gold ribbon."
I laughed under my breath, stunned all over again.
"Ivory's built different," Jimin said, shaking his head. "Handled the whole mess with grace and luxury."
"Rare one," Yoongi agreed, always the calmest one in the room.
And then Jimin, never one to let the moment get too sentimental, squinted at the screen and grinned. "You're gonna marry her, huh?"
I didn't even think about it.
My smile came easy. So easy it scared me a little.
"Already in one," I said. And I was. In a room that smelled like her shampoo. In a heart that had no space for anyone else.
Anyone but her.
***
I beat everyone here.
Not a soul in sight—just the sound of gravel crunching under my boots and the early morning light spilling over the hills of her family's estate. The gate had been left slightly open, probably by the gardener, and I took that as a sign. A silent yes. A quiet welcome home.
My heart was drumming out of rhythm, faster than any military run I'd clocked in. I didn't care. My palms were sweaty. Also didn't care. I was here. And if the universe was kind, she'd be here too.
I stepped inside the mansion—quiet. Too quiet.
"...Ivory?"
Nothing.
God, maybe her flight was delayed.
Still, I stayed. I didn't want the gardener to be the first one she saw. Or the chef. Or the housekeeper.
I wanted it to be me.
I paced the hallway twice, checked the kitchen, peered into the sunroom like a lunatic—and then the sound of the door unlocking nearly knocked the wind out of me.
Footsteps. Quick. Uneven.
"Jake?!"
I turned around just as the front door flew open.
And there she was.
My yellow.
She dropped her bag without even closing the door, and ran. Full speed. Like a bullet aimed straight at me.
"Jake!" she screamed again—this time like it hurt to say. Like it hurt more not to.
I caught her. Of course I did.
She leapt, arms around my neck, legs wrapping around my waist—and I held her like I'd trained my whole damn life for this moment.
Didn't even stagger. My drill sergeant would've been proud.
Her face buried in my shoulder, her laugh mixing with sobs and gasps and that word—my name—on repeat.
And me? I just stood there, eyes squeezed shut, arms locked around her thighs, nose in her neck like I was trying to breathe her in. Like she was the oxygen I'd been running out of.
"You're here." she said, breathless.
"First vacation," I answered. "There was only one place I wanted to be. Those sticky notes you left on my penthouse? Come on, you know I won't survive on those. I needed the real you. To see you."
And I felt her nod, wordless.
This... this was home.
[END]