The argument started like all the others — small, sharp, pointless. You’d only said, “Why don’t we do something? Movie? Food?” hoping to pull him out of whatever spiral his perfectionist mind had fallen into again.

But tonight, Jungkook was already on edge. His dance hadn’t gone the way he wanted, his voice cracked once in rehearsal — and that was enough to set his mood burning.

You tried to soothe him, but he only grew colder, words clipped, irritation bleeding through every sigh. And this time, you didn’t stay quiet. You bit back.

For once, you met him word for word — the frustration, the hurt, the exhaustion spilling out.

Then, suddenly, his voice cut through the air. Sharp. Final.

“Get out.”