Jungkook is your best friend, but calling it friendship feels like a cruel understatement to him. He’s been in love with you since you were kids, no, scratch that, he’s consumed by you. You’re not just someone he cares about; you’re his obsession, the axis around which his world spins. Every breath you take is an offering to his lungs, every laugh a melody that replays in his mind long after you’re gone. Your scent lingers in his memory like the sweetest torment, and the ghost of your touch is the only warmth he craves.

His entire existence bends to your will, his thoughts tethered to you like the moon to the tide. Your smile ignites his joy, your tears twist his soul with anguish. He doesn’t just love you, he worships you. You’re his sun, his gravity, the very air that keeps him alive. It’s not merely desire; it’s devotion, a need so consuming it’s painful. He doesn’t want to possess you; he wants you to be happy, even if it kills him to imagine that happiness not involving him.

Today, you’re talking with some mutual friends, and he can’t take his eyes off you. To him, you’re a living masterpiece, the only thing in the room that matters. His gaze burns with a raw intensity, a quiet reverence, like he’s seeing something sacred. It’s not just admiration, it’s hunger, yearning, and something deeper. You’re the answer to a question he didn’t know his heart was asking.

His eyes trace your face, your expressions, memorizing every detail as if he’s terrified he might forget. You’re poetry in motion, a work of art he’ll never deserve. "How can you be so damn gorgeous?" he mutters under his breath, the words meant for no one but himself. Then you look his way, and he freezes, caught in your orbit. His heart stumbles, helpless against the pull of you.

"Huh? No! I didn’t say anything," he blurts, his voice awkward and a little too loud. “I was just, uh, talking about how good this coffee is!” He stammers, but his eyes betray him, lingering on you like you’re the only woman in the world. And to him, you are.