Standing on the tarmac, the wind whips your hair underneath a gloomy sky. The private jet looks toy-like as the staff members climb the set of stairs into the plane. Arahae had explained that Chin-Hwa is working on convincing Big Hit to invest in their own jet after Jungkook was rushed at the airport, and this was the compromise for now.

You grasp the cold metal rail as you climb the uneven steps. The interior is glazed with coffee and cream colors with wood accents, the plush seats more like high-end office chairs. You pick a seat near the window not too far away from Eunji and Arahae, your eyes drifting out of the window to replay the events of last night for the umpteenth time. After last night, you’re not sure if this is a game anymore. Jimin’s loose lips slipped a secret that you wouldn’t let yourself consider—that Jungkook might feel the same.

Needing to quiet the barrage of questions you can’t answer in your fuzzy, aching head, you check your phone and see two texts.

Nikki

updates??

Mom

I need to talk to you

Stomach twisting at your mom’s text, you decide to respond to Nikki first.

Jasmine

idek where to begin

apparently they hired me to help Jungkook specifically and no one decided to tell me that until the first show

and don’t even get me started on Jungkook

he almost passed out the first show

RUDE

but also he’s been like…really forward?

idk I’m so confused

Nikki

wait wait wait

WHAT

Jasmine

YES

it’s so fucked because he def knows I’m into him and I feel like he’s throwing it in my face??

but then last night at a bar Jimin said JK wouldn’t shut up about me after the airport and I’m like???

then I think we had a moment????

Nikki

JASMINE

are you saying what I think you’re saying??

Jasmine

don’t ask me that because my head hurts and I can’t think about his anymore

Nikki

but if he does you HAVE to shoot your shot

are you KIDDING ME

Jasmine

it’s complicated

what if he doesn’t feel the same way?

I could get fired for even saying anything

You shove your phone back into your pocket when you see the members boarding. Everyone is subdued after last night, especially Yoongi. When Jungkook boards, he makes a beeline for the pair of seats across from you and takes the aisle chair. He rummages around in his carry-on and pulls out two capsules of Advil.

“If you feel like I do, you need these,” he says, handing them to you.

“Thanks.” You take them with a bottle of water.

“Does this mean I get to be your nurse now?”

The thought makes you laugh. “I wish it were that simple.”

The pilot announces that the plane is ready for take off, so you buckle your seatbelt and switch your phone to airplane mode. The plane picks up speed, holding what is now your entire world, as it ascends between the skyscrapers of New York. Climbing higher, you watch as the city bespeckled with autumn trees dwindles until the plane disappears into cloud cover.

“So,” Jungkook says with a glimmer in his eyes, “what did you think of your first night in New York?”

“I learned a lot about Yoongi,” you say, smiling at the memory. “And you.”

Two can play this game. If that’s all this is.

A corner of his mouth pulls upward.

So used to getting what he wants, isn’t he?

“It was educational, wasn’t it, Jas?” The nickname stokes the embers in your blood as you wonder if the implied familiarity is real. “You know, I learned something, too. That I can’t turn my back for one second before someone else tries to whisk you away.” He crosses his arms. “And I don’t like someone trying to take what’s mine.”

Heat rushes to your face. “Yours? Says who, pretty boy?”

Leaning forward, he drops the smirk and points to himself. “I do.”

Your heart thumps so wildly that you wonder if he can hear it. You stare back at him locked in his gaze, feeling him take ownership of you.

He leans back, a faint smile touching his lips. “Get some rest. It’s a long flight.”

• • •

Arahae puts away her luggage in the hotel room as you lie on one of the twin beds, texting your mom back.

Jasmine

what is it?

Mom

when are you coming home?

Jasmine

I’m on tour, so not for a while

maybe in April

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Mom

well I just wanted you to know that I’ve given up drinking

Mark and I broke up too

On paper, these things sound great. They sound like everything you want to hear, but you’re familiar with the emptiness in these words.

Unwelcome memories intrude your thoughts. You’re twelve years old trying on your first bra, hearing your mom laugh at your budding breasts. You’re twenty years old in the infancy of your eating disorder recovery, enduring her jokes about binging and purging. You’re twenty-one coming out as bisexual, listening to her call herself “spaghetti sexual” while the rest of your family gets off on fear-mongering a conservative wet dream that your sexuality is a product of a leftist agenda. You’re twenty-two, the first time your mom promised she was done drinking.

You come to drained, floating in a void of endless night.

Jasmine

okay

• • •

You dream of your parents chasing you through a house that ever-deepens, their pursuit as vehement as your flight.

• • •

Setting your backpack down in the medical staff dressing room, you try to cleanse yourself of last night’s dream, but it sticks to you like tar.

On the drive in, you marveled at the historic buildings decorating London, and the O2 Arena looked like a mechanical full moon embedded snugly in a bend in the Thames River. The backstage areas are more updated and polished than Citi Field with neon lights and amenities set up throughout.

Eunji walks in wearing a headset and holding a clipboard. “Each of you will be responsible for the same members as the last concert. Let me know if anything comes up. Otherwise, I’ll assume everything is running smoothly.” She doesn’t wait for a response before disappearing into the hallway.

When Arahae and Doyun leave, you take a moment to prepare yourself for a long concert day. You take a deep breath and join the others.

In BTS’ dressing room, the seven members are lounging on couches and chairs waiting for their day of concert preparations to begin. Arahae is engaged in what looks like a flirty game of verbal chess with Jimin, and Doyun, in his usual broody mood, hovers near Jin and Taehyung. Jungkook lies on one of the couches, and you find a space at the end to sit down.

Looking at you over his phone, he prods your thigh with a socked foot. “Rough night?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Do I need to beat up Arahae?”

A smile spreads across your lips. “No, no, it’s not her. She’s an actual angel.”

“Then who?” He sits up. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave them bloody.”

You assume he’s up to his usual antics until the silence extends, posing questions with his eyes.

You begin to speak but trail off, thoughts lunging at you like masked demons in a haunted house. Grasping at letters to form words, they combine and dissolve into air.

“Come with me,” Jungkook says, standing. He leads you through the stylish arena where the production crew weave around each other carrying equipment. When you break away from the crew, your footsteps echo off of the wavy modern ceiling designs until you come upon a cute shop called Costa Coffee. Inside, Jungkook turns to you. “What’s your coffee order?”

“An iced latte.”

He walks up to the counter and orders an iced americano and iced latte. When he’s done ordering, you open your mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up. “It’s my treat.”

He grabs the coffees when they’re ready and hands the latte to you. Exiting the coffee shop, you settle into cushy fabric chairs in the empty arena.

“Thanks,” you say. You swirl your straw, the ice clinking against the glass, and take a sip.

“So,” he says after taking a drink of his americano, “what’s on your mind?”

“It’s a long story. I don’t want to bother you with it.”

“Who says you’d be bothering me?”

He stares back at you as a pit of dread grows in your chest. “Why do you care so much, anyway? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the concert?” you ask.

“I care because I do. Is that so wrong?”

You want to tell him everything, but he’s said too many pretty things. People who speak so beautifully hide webs of deceit spun underneath.

He leans forward with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll be distracted the whole concert trying to figure it out.” He cocks his head. “I’d hate to think what would happen if that affected my performance. You’d have ARMY to answer to.”

A smile cracks across your lips, his playfulness softening you. “Fine, you win.”

Satisfied, he leans back.

“I had a nightmare,” you say.

“What kind?”

“A recurring one.” You look down, picking at your nails.

He pauses, looking thoughtful. “What happens in them?”

“My parents are chasing me through a never-ending house. They’re always right there no matter how many doors I run through and lock behind me.”

He takes a sip of his americano while thinking over what you said.

Regret grips you. Standing, you say, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” You turn to leave and feel a firm grip on your wrist. Twisting, you see Jungkook’s hand stopping you.

He stands, pulling you from where his hand meets your wrist closer and closer until his arms wrap around you. You’re smelling his spice and warm amber scent, hearing his heartbeat whisper its same secrets as you embrace him. You didn’t know someone so strong could be so gentle.

Breaking away, he places his hands on your shoulders to keep you close. His eyes search yours. “Jas, I’m sorry. Thank you for telling me.” He takes a strand of your hair and runs his fingers down it. “You can’t live your whole life pushing people away, you know.”

“I know.”

He studies your face. “Such a good listener.” When he sees how red you get, he smiles slyly.

On the way back, he walks a little closer to you than before.

When you enter the dressing room, Namjoon says, “Where have you two lovebirds been?” Jimin makes a thrusting motion and some of the other members laugh.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook says, smiling and throwing a nearby water bottle at Jimin. Jimin ducks to avoid the projectile.

Someone from production announces that it’s time for sound check, so the seven members head to the stage. You walk with Arahae and Doyun to the center of the stadium, and Jungkook stays close to you.

You hang back slightly off stage with Arahae and Doyun to watch the sound check.

“So, where were you guys?” Arahae asks.

“We went to get coffee. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“If you were doing your job, you wouldn’t have let him run off,” Doyun says under his breath.

Arahae rolls her eyes. “Can’t you sulk somewhere else?” Doyun walks off. “Jerk. He’s starting to be a real pain in the ass.”

“Whatever,” you say. Your mind is preoccupied with the memory of Jungkook’s arms around you.

When the sound check is over, Jungkook tells you he’s going to take a shower before it’s time for hair and makeup, so you head back to the dressing room. Sitting on the same couch as before, you watch as Arahae and Doyun check on the other members. The hair and makeup artists set up their stations, unpacking products and tools and arranging them on the counters.

You check your phone and see a missed call from Jungkook. He calls you again.

“Hello?”

“Jas, I need you to come to the shower room I’m in.” His voice is strained.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just come here. Hurry.” The urgency in his voice made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“I’m coming. Where are you?”

“Take a right out of the dressing room and it’s the third door on the right.”

You follow his directions to the door. “I’m here.”

“You have to come in,” he says, grunting. “I can’t get up.”

Oh shit.

Your nurse persona slips on like a second skin. As you twist the handle of the door, your true self is tucked away neatly in that same box deep inside you.

When you open the door, you see Jungkook in boxers and a T-shirt sitting on the floor holding his left heel as thick drops of blood leak between his fingers. Blood streaks and dots the floor. His face is pulled with pain.

“Keep holding pressure. I’ll grab the med kit,” you say. You close the door and speed walk to the medical dressing room. Grabbing the kit, you quickly walk back. You kneel down to Jungkook and place the med kit on the tile floor. “Let me see.”

Jungkook hesitates for a moment then pries his fingers back, revealing a deep gash on his heel. Some of the cordlike Achilles tendon shines through layers of blood and torn skin in a few places.

“What happened?” you say, grabbing the towel he brought for showering and placing it under his heel. He winces at the movement.

“I was stretching and my heel came down on something.”

“You’ll need stitches. I’m going to wrap it up and call Eunji.” You grab a bottle of water out of the kit. “Going to clean it first.”

“What about performing?” he asks.

You pour water over his heel, causing him to groan and flinch.

“Jungkook…” You meet his eyes, unable to bring yourself to say the words. Assessing the cleaned wound, you grab the fluffy roll of Kerlix, stretchy coband, and some gauze. You rip open the packet of gauze first. “Putting gauze on, wrapping it in coband, and finishing with Kerlix.” Little beads of sweat form on his face.

You place the gauze over his wound as delicately as you can. “Hold that.” Fishing the scissors out, you measure how much coband you need before cutting. “This is probably going to hurt. I have to create pressure to stop the bleeding.” You look at him. He nods. Wrapping the rubbery coband around his wound with the layer of gauze, he grimaces and grunts. You move on to the Kerlix. You unwrap the soft cotton and begin criss crossing the wrap around his heel. You inspect your work before sealing the end with micropore tape.

“Can you stand?” you ask.

“I think so.”

You kneel down and let him put an arm around your shoulders as you secure your arm around his waist. You count down from three and stand with him, holding on to a metal rail built into the bathroom wall to help. “How’s that?”

He winces. “Fine.”

You open the door to make your way to a vacant room. He walks unsteadily, leaning on you for support. Entering room 5, you help him sit in a chair and pull out your phone to call Eunji.

“Wait,” he says. You lower the phone. “What if I don’t get to perform? What does this mean for the rest of the tour?”

You kneel down and look up at him. “I don’t know. But I do know that you need stitches. Once we get your wound sewn up, it can start to heal. I can’t say how long that will take.” He looks back at you with a terrible darkness in his eyes.

Your nurse persona cracks, and pieces of you, the real you, climb free. “No matter what happens,” you say, brushing a strand of damp hair out of his face, “I’m staying right here. We’re going to figure this out.” A flicker of light returns to his eyes.

You dial Eunji’s number.