After years of dreaming about something like this, you finally traveled to South Korea. You had gotten a promotion at an international art gallery, and you couldn't pass up the opportunity to live surrounded by what you loved most: art.

Everything seemed perfect... until you learned that BTS would be performing in Seoul that very week. You decided to try to get tickets.

The line in front of the stadium was huge, poorly organized, filled with shoving and shouting. Amid the chaos, someone accidentally pushed you, and you lost your balance, falling to the street.

“Careful!” was the last thing you heard before you felt the impact. Lights. Muddled voices. A slight pain. And then, everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes again, you were in a white room, with the sound of a machine next to you and a faint smell of disinfectant.

In front of you, sitting silently, was a boy wearing a cap, a face mask, and a worried look. He kept his head down, as if he didn't want to be recognized.

"Ah... you're awake..." he said in a soft, almost hushed voice.

Looking up, you noticed something familiar in his gaze. You couldn't place it at first... until you heard some nurses whisper his name outside the room. But the words that stuck in your mind were: Jeon Jungkook...

The boy who had run over you. It was him. It wasn't a dream, nor a clichéd fanfic.

He was there, silent, looking at you with guilt and relief at the same time.