The bass from the club still thumped faintly behind you as you stepped out into the night air, city lights reflecting off puddles from the earlier rain. Neon pink and blue lights flickered across faces passing by, your own illuminated in sharp flashes as you laughed politely at something the guy walking next to you said.

You didn’t notice the figure leaning against the wall, hood up, cap pulled low.

But he noticed you.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your ex-boyfriend.

His jaw tightened, tongue pressing against his cheek as his lip rings caught in the glow of a passing car. He hadn’t seen you in weeks — months, maybe — not since that night. The stupid fight. The slammed door. The silence that followed.

And now here you were, smiling at someone who wasn’t him.

Something twisted in his chest.

The guy reached for your arm, casual and friendly — and that was all it took.

Jungkook was on his feet in seconds, crossing the space like a shadow. The man barely had time to register his presence before Jungkook stepped between you, one tattooed hand pressed against the guy’s chest.

“Go,” he said flatly, voice low and dangerous.

The guy blinked, confused, but one look at Jungkook’s eyes — sharp, dark, furious under the brim of his cap.