Back Then

🚨Never Let Go🚨

He didn't ask where.

He didn't need to.

His hand found hers as she pulled him up, leading him past the dim hallway and into her room—where the quiet closed in around them, and the world outside ceased to matter.

They kissed like it meant something. Like they were finally allowed to want.
Like they didn't have to hold back anymore.

They stumbled into the room, still half-laughing, half-breathless. Jungkook kicked the door shut behind them without looking, his mouth never leaving hers for long.

"You're trouble," he murmured against her jaw, voice low and breathless. "You've always been trouble."

Chaeyoung smirked, fingers already slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt.
"And you like it."

He let out a shaky laugh. "I'm obsessed with it."

She pushed him gently onto the edge of the bed, and he went willingly, eyes burning into hers like she was the only thing that existed. She climbed into his lap, straddling him, and that look—god, that look—nearly undid him.

"We're really doing this, huh?" he whispered, like he couldn't believe it.
Chaeyoung leaned in, brushing her lips against his.
"Too late to back out now, babe."

His laugh came out low and broken, half a groan. "Fuck, I love you."

That made her pause—but only for a beat. She looked at him, really looked, then kissed him slow, deliberate, like she'd been waiting forever for this moment to finally feel real.

He kissed her back like a man starved, like every second without her had been driving him insane.

When she tugged his shirt over his head, he helped her with shaking hands, and when she leaned in again, he looked up at her like she'd hung the stars.

"You're way bolder than I knew," he said, half-teasing, half-ruined.
She grinned. "Maybe you were just too distracted to notice."

"Still am," he breathed, hands running down her back. "Completely."

And when they finally let go—really let go—it wasn't just heat.
It was years of aching, nights of wondering, a thousand almosts crashing into one overwhelming now.

Jungkook leaned back, just enough to look at her—really look. His gaze dragged slowly down the shape of her, over the swell of her hips, the softness of her stomach, the skin she never used to show.

His breath caught.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispered, like it was a secret only he was meant to know. Like he'd been holding it in for too long.

Chaeyoung's eyes softened, lips parting like she wanted to respond—but then his hands slid back up her waist, and she lost the words.

She pulled her own top over her head, he froze for half a second.

His mouth parted. His pupils blew wide.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You'll kill me."

She grinned, cheeks flushed. "It's only fair. You've been ruining me since sophomore year."

His laugh was low, wrecked. "I should've done this a long time ago."

She kissed him before he could say more—slow and unhurried, like there was no longer anything to prove.
Like they weren't rushing toward something new, but finally letting go of everything they'd held back.

And when his mouth found her neck, her chest, her ribs—every kiss was patient. Worshipful. She arched beneath him with a sharp gasp, fingers fisting in his hair, grounding herself in the only thing that felt real: him.