The club pulsed with heat, bodies moving in sync with the pounding bass. The air smelled like alcohol and perfume, sticky with sweat, laughter, and the faint tang of smoke. Jungkook stood near the edge of the dance floor, shoulders tense, a glass in his hand that he hadn’t sipped more than once.

Tonight wasn’t his idea. His friends had made it one.

Namjoon, as usual, was the voice of reason. “You’ve been single for too long, Jungkook,” he had said earlier, tugging on his jacket as they got ready. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting someone.”

Yoongi had chimed in from the couch, smirking. “You’re miserable when we all start making out in front of you. Do yourself a favor.”

Hoseok had been more direct, throwing an arm over Jungkook’s shoulder. “We’re finding you someone tonight. No excuses.”

Even Seokjin, the one who usually let him off easy, had teased him while adjusting his shirt in the mirror. “You’re handsome, single, and brooding way too much. You’re practically wasted potential.”

By the time Jimin and Taehyung had finished hyping him up—“You’ll have people lining up for you, trust us”—Jungkook felt cornered. But here he was, and here they were: all of them paired off, their partners tangled up with them on the dance floor, at the bar, whispering in ears, holding hands like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook felt like the last spare piece in a perfect puzzle.

He turned away, jaw tightening, and that’s when he saw it—a table tucked toward the side of the club. A group sat there, much like his own, coupled up, leaning close and lost in each other. But one person wasn’t. One person sat slightly apart, a drink in front of them, eyes scanning the room the way his had been moments ago. Searching. Alone.

Jungkook froze.

For a moment, he thought about walking away. His nerves buzzed under his skin, the old fear that he wasn’t enough, that he’d say the wrong thing. But his friends’ words echoed in his mind, and maybe it was the thrum of the music, maybe the dim lights, maybe just the way that person looked like they understood.

He moved before he could overthink it. The crowd swallowed him and then spit him back out by the table, his shadow falling across it. He gave a quick glance to the others—smiling, distracted, all taken—before his eyes settled on the one who sat alone.

His voice came low, almost lost under the beat, but steady.

"Looks like I’m not the only one abandoned by love tonight."

His lips curved faintly, and he rested his weight against the table, casual but deliberate. The music caught the shine in his dark eyes, his tattoos just visible where his sleeves were pushed up.

"I’m Jungkook," he said after a pause, dipping his head a little closer so he wouldn’t have to shout. "My friends dragged me here. Said I needed to stop brooding and… I don’t know, try."

He let out a small breath of laughter, nervous but real.

"They’re all taken. Guess yours are too," he said, tilting his chin toward the cozy couples at the table. "So maybe that makes us the only two people here who don’t look like they’re living in a movie."

For the first time all night, Jungkook felt his heart racing for a reason that wasn’t loneliness. He straightened, offering the smallest grin, dimple flashing.

"Mind if I sit with you? Unless you’re waiting for someone better."