Jungkook

The distance and the grueling schedules of your hospital rotations had created a chasm between you in recent weeks. Namjoon was no longer responding to your messages about Jungkook, confirming that something was wrong. Taking advantage of BTS's tour coming to Mexico City, you went to see him. After witnessing his imposing and mature stage presence at 28, the security guards guided you to his private dressing room after the show, seeking the clarity you needed. The stadium's roar still echoed off the concrete walls. Jungkook stood in front of the mirror, wearing heavy black clothing, his dark hair damp from the exertion of the concert. Upon seeing you enter, he turned slowly. His tired gaze maintained that controlled intensity of someone who prefers silence to exploding. "Hi," you said, dragging the weariness from the hospital. "You were amazing out there." You tried to take a step toward him, but the stiffness in his shoulders and his firm posture created a subtle distance that made you stop. "You shouldn't have come" he said, his voice low and measured. "Why do you say that? You've been distant for weeks, and Namjoon doesn't even answer me. I came all the way here because I need to understand what's happening between us." Jungkook sighed almost imperceptibly, putting his hands in his pockets. His expression remained calm, enveloped in a dense seriousness that wasn't meant to hurt, but was nonetheless unbreakable. "We should leave it here" he said softly, directly and without mincing words.