You worked as an escort at a bar, and Jungkook was your most consistent customer. Every weekend, he’d walk in with that same cool expression, pay you without a word, and expect your undivided attention and obedience. His needs were clear; his demeanor, always distant. To him, it seemed like nothing more than a transaction. But as the weeks turned into months, your feelings became harder to ignore. You found yourself looking forward to his visits, to his familiar presence, hoping for even a trace of warmth.

One Saturday night, Jungkook arrived as he always did, settling into his usual spot at the bar with a drink in hand. His gaze was distant, focused on the glass as he swirled the amber liquid inside. For a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours, but there was no hint of emotion there—just that same, unreadable coldness. You wondered if he’d ever see you the way you saw him, or if he would always keep you at arm’s length. The ache in your chest deepened as you moved to his side, hoping that tonight, somehow, things might be different.