Chapter Text
Blank Script
We were born of stardust, and into stardust, our ashes shall fade.
—VI
I don't know what else to write here...
it's empty like my canvas. Maybe I just need to wait—
or remember.
***
[flashback]
Taehyung ran. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Breath sharp and burning in his throat, almost suffocating. Heart thumping so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest.
"Where are you?" A whisper escaped his lips almost like a prayer.
The vast house twisted around him: doorways, staircases, endless rooms filled with shifting shadows and silent corners, blurring behind him as he moved ahead.
It was just a game, teenagers playing hide-and-seek again, and Taehyung would join his peers, often chosen as the seeker, but he couldn't understand why he felt so strange today.
Was it... because of that boy? The pretty boy with messy dark hair and doe eyes, yes, him—the boy chewing bubblegum with a slow, lazy pop, darting ahead, always just a step out of reach—restless, reckless... and always with a smile that could kill.
Despite the panic, Taehyung found him easily—right behind the heavy red velvet curtains by the window. It wasn't like he had supernatural abilities to see through walls. He just felt him.
Before Taehyung could say anything, the boy grabbed his wrist and pulled him along, urging him wordlessly to follow. And now they both were running down the hallway, so fast it felt like time and space warped around them. They darted through staircases and hallways, breathless, hearts pounding in sync.
There was a closet, and somehow Taehyung ended up in it—the boy yanked him inside and slammed the door shut. The dark space closed in around them, thick with the scent of old wood and mothballs. And there was something else. Woozy, sweet, mint bubblegum.
"What are you doing? Aren't we supposed to play by the rules?" Taehyung protested, while pushing aside the bundle of clothes hanging over them.
"Shush!" The boy hissed, eyes glinting as he pressed a finger to Taehyung's lips—playful, unaware. "Don't let them find us."
"But that's unfair!" Taehyung's voice trembled like a scream swallowed into a whisper.
"But it's fun!" The boy popped a pink bubble between his lips, then sucked it back in with a smirk.
"BUT—"
Taehyung was about to disagree but he failed to say anything as he felt the other boy's hand covering his mouth completely, soft, warm, commanding, as if to say, stay quiet.
This boy had full control. He laughed so carelessly, like he had no weight in his chest, his dimples smiling, bunny teeth peeking.
It wasn't just hard to say no to him. It was impossible.
After a long second, the boy's hand slipped away, leaving Taehyung's lips tingling where the warmth had been. Air rushed back into his lungs, cold and dizzying.
His breath hitched as that sudden, sugary fresh scent of bubblegum wafted close. Their faces were inches apart. So close Taehyung could see everything: his eyelashes, his little scars, his tiny moles under his nose tip, eye, lip...
And he could feel the heat rising. Could hear his own heart twisting with the same strange feeling he'd been dealing with every time he saw that boy.
Taehyung chased him. Not only in the game. But in the quiet spaces of his mind, where he kept his secret dreams locked away.
He wondered, what would it be like to close the distance for more than just a touch?
Just one kiss? Would the world stop? Or would it begin?
But it was nothing but another what if.
Inside the wardrobe, Taehyung froze, just staring at him.
Outside, footsteps rushed past; the shouts, laughter, and squeals of their playmates getting lost beyond the hollow walls.
"Jungkook! Taehyung! Where are you?!"
[flashback end]
Hwangcheon Cemetery, Gyeonggi Province
Present day
Darkness. Nothing but endless, freezing, pitch-black darkness embraced the casket as it was lowered into the grave. For a moment Taehyung held his breath, in unison with the silence hanging in the air, listening... to the sound of rope creaking under the weight, damp soil crumbling onto the lid in muffled thuds, and rain faintly drumming on the surface.
"May God rest his soul," Taehyung muttered quietly. He wasn't a believer. His world had always been built on reason and facts, as faith had never spoken to him the way science ever could. Still, he prayed—out of respect, for memory, for honor—for his father who had passed away just five days ago.
Taehyung's thoughts refused to stay in the present. Sudden flashbacks—he hated them, especially the ones bringing back uncomfortable childhood memories which he couldn't control. Just as his gaze fell on the casket, he remembered the closet he used to be locked in as a child: the same wood, the same glossy texture, even the vintage carving looked familiar. And then those hide-and-seek games with the boys and with him...
He remembered how much he hated tight spaces and the dark. When he was little, he would panic if the door clicked shut or if the power went out at night. He saw demons chasing him towards the bed, threatening him until he hid under the blanket. But the feeling of being trapped and suffocated was even worse. That's why, long ago, he had decided for himself: cremation. No box. No dark. Just his ashes scattered into the wind.
But his father had left no will. He died sooner than he should have, just past fifty, worn down by years of drinking and hard living... he had no time, no readiness. Death wasn't something he expected this early. Eventually, his liver gave out before he did. And so here was his son, in the graveyard, watching as the man was buried the old way: wood, earth, and shadow.
Kim Taehyung, only twenty-one and in his third year studying film at Korea National University of Arts, chasing stories he hoped one day to tell on screen while still struggling to script his own life alone, couldn't believe he'd have to endure such loss. He let out a deep sigh while raindrops rolled down his cheeks.
There's a saying—the sky is crying... was he crying too? He couldn't tell. The water on his skin felt no different from tears.
Something ached in his chest—sharp and hollow at once.
Everyone ends up here, he thought. No matter how loud, attractive, and important—or how useless, miserable, and pathetic you are—the earth claims you just the same, flesh or ashes. The darkness doesn't care who you were and what you once had.
Anything humans flaunt, cling to, and bleed for: riches, beauty, power, status—death erases everything. King or nobody, winner or loser, idol or outcast... in the end, all become nameless soil. In the grave, they share the same silence.
Even the names and deeds of the dead linger in the memory of the living like faint echoes, until they fade with another death to be forgotten completely.
Then... What was this life for?
"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life."
Rain felt colder than it should've for early fall, and somewhere beyond the rows of black umbrellas, the murmur of the priest's prayers drowned beneath its faint but steady drumming.
He lifted his gaze, unwilling to watch the burial or dwell on his own existential torment. They say, when someone dies, remember the good memories about them.
His father—a man he hadn't truly known in years, yet couldn't forget. Who was he, really? Mr. Kim came from a family of farmers, but unlike the generations before him, he reached for more. A small-town businessman, respected by some, feared by others. Once a local preacher, he carried holy scripture in one pocket and a bottle in the other—until the bottle won. He'd work, he'd drink, he'd punish. From one empty deal to another, from glass to glass, with the years dragging on... and the man inside was withered.
Taehyung struggled to find any feelings left inside. Maybe they had drained away long ago, when he was still a child, standing in a courtroom and was told he'd live with another family instead—a rural school teacher and a countrywoman, ordinary people who treated him better than his own blood ever could.
Maybe he had simply forgotten what he felt then; that's why he didn't know what to feel now. Sometimes the thoughts that one day, an avalanche of memories might crush him, kept him awake at night. The past seemed all blurry and dark, as if that child from the village wasn't really him at all, like he was replaced. Yet somehow he had this child's eyes, face, name, and maybe his soul.
Or... maybe darkness had always been there?
Back to reality.
The air smelled of wet soil and past summer. A pulsing headache made Taehyung feel dizzy. Somewhere in the back, people whispered condolences they didn't mean. Someone sniffled. Taehyung noticed his cousins, two teen boys and a girl, quietly giggling, bantering, texting on their phones, as if the burial of their uncle didn't weigh on them much. Everyone experiences grief differently, Taehyung thought, so he didn't judge.
Thud. Wet soil hit the casket. Thud. Another shovelful. The sound kept coming, steady and dull, as if the ground itself was swallowing him. Taehyung didn't look. His eyes remained locked on the gray clouds while the noise filled his ears.
Umbrellas began to drift away and mourners faded into the foggy gray horizon. Taehyung stayed where he was, damp strands falling across his forehead, his coat heavy with rain.
This was the end of a life—but was it for the shadows it had left inside of him?
And for a long moment, as the ground rose, he couldn't tell if what he felt was relief... or nothing at all.
***
Club Cheonsang, Itaewon, Seoul
Same day
Light pulsed like blood-colored lightning in the noise of music and bass, flashing, rushing through veins, searing every inch of flesh—Jungkook could see it even when his eyes were closed. Boredom felt like eternity: this party, liquor, substances, bodies—same thing, so familiar, so routine. He tasted it all. Even this stupid game bored Jungkook to death.
"Fuck-marry-kill! Real shit! Ready?!"
"What the hell?! A challenge?"
"Dare? Are you fucking serious?!"
"Come on, guys. Play! Pick already—goddamn it!"
Voices overlapped, shouted, laughed, drowning each other out—louder even than the bunch of groupies screaming near the stage with their shrieks rising like glass shattering to the beat. This chaos was all he'd heard for the past five minutes—and it was coming from his eight university friends, The Line, who'd named themselves for being born in the same year. They were the ones who started this game—yeah, just 'cause he flexed that overseas stuff was wilder and rougher than back here at home.
"Fuck." Jungkook drew the word out, like tossing a match. He made his choice, as if the whole world could burn for all he cared.
The shouting picked up again, everyone blabbering over each other. Jungkook lounged there on the leather couch of the bar section, a little tipsy, smoking, waiting. A cigarette in one hand—the tattooed one, and a drink in the other. Ice melted in the alcohol as smoke hung in the strobe lights—glowing ghost-white before dissolving, just like Jungkook's thoughts. After blowing out a drag, he inhaled the air, a sweet, bitter metallic trace tangled with sharp alcohol, perfume, and sweat—scents drifting and colliding, scattered and restless as his own headspace. Too many things on his mind and none of them entertained him.
Finally one of his peers called out:
"Fuck-marry-kill. Let's get it! Kill—you. Marry—you. And fuck—hey, Jeon Jungkook!"
Jungkook rolled his eyes open, a little too impatient to end this, but then—
He saw that pretty face on the phone screen.
And he went silent.
The whole table turned quiet too, like they all knew who it was.
Everything fell away.
Only one question stayed in Jungkook's head—
Him?
Is that—
Kim... Taehyung?
"Kim fucking Taehyung?" Jungkook finally broke the silence.
For a second, the bass dulled, voices muffled, lost beneath his own pulse. He stared in disbelief, as if he was unsure, torn between "Who the fuck is this?" and "Wait... do I know him?"
Jungkook vaguely remembered some quiet little kid from elementary and middle school... seemed like he used to drag him along for games—or maybe not? It was all hazy, fractured, like old snapshots. Even if anyone gossiped about the that boy back then, Jungkook didn't bother keeping it—he had his own shit going on, barely there at all.
Life went sideways after he left for a prestigious college in the States—one of those glossy, top-tier, big-name ones that everyone brags about, promising the best future, or so his family believed. And all hell broke loose. Jungkook had been everywhere and nowhere: concerts, parties, chemical rushes, nights with strangers, drag races, street brawls—chasing every high, every danger—for the thrill of it. He was always running on risk, careless, reckless, moving fast, never slowed down. Not once. And the further he ran... the more those childhood memories felt like someone else's story.
Suddenly, a jagged laugh pulled him out of focus.
"Holy shit! Jeon Jungkook, the god of hookups—tripping on that nerd?! Bro's not wasted—he's cooked!" Cha Eunwoo, one of Jungkook's closest from The Line, barked out, snorting.
"The challenge hasn't even kicked off, but our international playboy Jungkookie is eyefucking this twink like he finna cum tribute to him! Chat, GG!" Kim Mingyu, another Liner, jumped in with shameless teasing, pushing every button. "Game over. Busan Rockstar is down! Everybody press F."
"Fuck off, you both," Jungkook muttered lazily, eyes half-rolling as he took a slow sip of his strong cocktail. The liquor left its sting, bitter heat trailing after the swallow. Wiping his pierced lower lip, the metallic ring cold against his fingers, he refused to admit his throat had gone dry... for no reason.
Jungkook swung his legs onto the table, nudging with his heavy boots through the mess strewn across it—emptied bottles, shot glasses, lines of white powder, rolled papers, used joints, abandoned appetizers. An all-too-familiar aftermath for a weekend spent by rich university kids like this.
Across from Jungkook sat Yugyeom, clutching his phone with the picture still up, waving it around as if it were a holy book and he was preaching.
"Listen y'all, here's a recap of the rules for you dumbasses. This fuck-marry-kill game isn't some bullshit—it's straight-up action. Kill—disclaimer: not actual murder! Only pranking—no crossing the line! Marry—flirt, get on a date, make the shit romantic and corny. And fuck—now that's for real, literally, get laid. Hookup. Fuck."
The young men at the table went off like maniacs at the last word, and even Jungkook chuckled a little. The whole racket was so loud, even the blaring music from the speakers, that rattled bottles and glasses, was less deafening.
"You picked your action. You got the face on the photo roulette—that's your target." Yugyeom plowed on, ignoring the rowdy bunch. "And I repeat. This is not a drill. You gotta do this for real."
"What counts as a win? And a loss?" One of the boys shouted over the music.
"Will there be a prize? Any bets?" Another one was excited.
"How long do players have to finish this?" The other was curious.
"Do they have to tell each other afterwards?" Someone else asked.
"No—ugh, yes—what? I don't know! Gosh. Calm down!" Yugyeom was confused by too many questions at once. "Three days, or a week, perhaps? Just... gotta figure it out with the crew."
As the noise went down, Xu Minghao, part of The Line, giggled reluctantly, stirring his cocktail.
"Hehe...um, why is it that unlike 'kill' and 'marry'—'fuck' is the only real action?"
The odd question earned him choked snorts and startled gasps.
"Huh? Minghao, are you on something?! Mind explaining to us?" Yugyeom's eye twitched as he stared, dumbfounded.
"Shiiit, does he mean the other two options should be real too?!" Mingyu barged in, biting his lip provocatively, "Imagine if I marry my target, do I win a honeymoon night? Or is that prize reserved only for the King of Sex—Jeon Jungkook himself?"
Eunwoo cut in, "Hell yeah, imagine if it weren't shady, it'd be funny trying out this recent TikTok challenge 'hashtag-dark-prank' that got banned," He was snickering at his own dark humor.
Mingyu gave his friend a side-eye full of disgust, "Nope, it's giving darknet rabbitholes, quit surfing the deep web for sus crap, cuh."
"Shut up, you both!" Yugyeom snapped, pointing at Minghao. "Let him speak, for fuck's sake."
"No-no, it's not that," Minghao stammered, disarmingly honest, as he hurried to explain himself. "Uhm, I mean, first of all, is it just naughty little pranks, playing pretend, like, faking it, or do the tricks cross into no-joke territory? And if not...ugh, the hooking up part—why is it for real but not kinda toned-down too? Without, err... dragging anyone into bed."
"Oh. Alright. You mean that—no, it's—" Yugyeom was just about to explain, but before he could get another syllable, Jungkook spoke over him:
"Relax, Xu Minghao." He drawled, exhaling, as if he had all the time in the world, "We're not that braindead to risk getting kicked out of uni or end up behind bars. It's just a game. Trust me, no one's getting hurt." Jungkook took a long drag, the cigarette's ember flaring and dimming as he breathed out—"And sex? Sex is good."
The corners of his lips curled into a smug smile, carving dimples, his bedroom eyes glinting. Said like that, it almost sounded valid. Harmless. Almost.
He felt confident—in himself, in his aura—as if he knew it, his peers would cheer and hype, eat up whatever their baddest boy would say. To them, his words were like sugar—sweet, addictive, and dangerous in ways nobody bothered or dared to name.
Jungkook tapped his cigarette, Rolex blinging on his wrist from under his sleeve, then leaned back. His black leather Prada jacket creaked as he shifted, feet crossed still on the table. The background music wasn't as loud and hard anymore. A couple of cute waitresses in short skirts brushed past, balancing a tray heavy with cocktails that clinked before they set them down in a rush, gone just as quick. Nobody dared to mess with the fratboys.
Yeah, fraternities weren't really a thing at Korean universities, but a few of the more privileged kids who'd grown up in the West brought the culture back with them—the hazing rituals, the parties, the dares, the cocky attitude, and all the chaos that came with it.
To think of it, it felt like a strange nostalgia, recalling the silly pranks and mischief of their edgy teen years, and later all the insane dares and risks they took as adults, which was brutal rather than fun, full of filth and wreckage. Now, back home, among his university crew, doing these games again felt stupidly reckless—ridiculous even... but fire was always the kind of thing Jungkook liked to play with.
"Seriously? Un-fucking-believable." The words rang out across the booth. All eyes turned to the corner. It was BamBam—the normally talkative Liner, who'd been unusually quiet all this time—now speaking with sudden weight. "Y'all gonna do this for real? Damn... like, if you guys are actually up to mess with someone—what's the line that shouldn't be crossed?"
"Jungkook already said it, we're not pulling any criminal shit here." Yugyeom replied to him nonchalantly. "Perhaps, possibly—something that could get uni officials to make us write apology letters? I don't know. Like Eunwoo's part—includes pranks, but aside from that, other players gotta make sure the target is actually down for it."
"So, you really gonna do this... to Kim Taehyung?" BamBam just stared at Jungkook, unblinking—like the idea itself was pure madness.
"And?" Jungkook exhaled, eyebrows arched. The smoke slipped past his mouth, wrapping around his face, it curled like snakes above his head before dissolving into the ceiling.
BamBam scoffed. "Don't you think it's kinda messed up, picking someone clueless about what's going on?"
That alone triggered a round of groans and eye-rolls from everyone at the table.
"Yooo... Bruhh. What?"
"Dude, is he on crack?"
"Bro is tweaking."
"He's fucking high!"
"That's the point, BamBam. Fun." Jungkook let out a short, amused scoff, flicking the cigarette ashes. "Is fun not really your thing anymore, hm?"
Amid the drunken brawl, Jungkook's voice sounded too cool—too smooth, collected even—and it was enough to make everyone at the table hush down a little.
BamBam, who obviously had a lot to say, barely got a word out before Eunwoo casually barged in, sounding more irked than he really was. "Speaking of fun... Out of all the motherfuckers in this uni—why him? I know it was a blind pick, but Kim? He's boring as fuck. Pranking him would be the dullest shit ever—dude is like a bot. Like, nah just give me the cheer squad baddie or Professor Min's TA with the tits—way more entertaining than this NPC. Kim shouldn't have even been in for the game!"
"One's against fun, the other doesn't get it. Like—shit." Yugyeom let out a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's the legendary Kim Taehyung for you. Nerd, bookworm, brainiac—name it. And even if y'all think he's a slutty twink, the streets are saying he's impossible to get in bed. Half the campus tried, just to see if the freak would crack. I shit you not—he didn't. Word is, he's still a fucking virgin."
Hearing this, Jungkook froze, his tongue flicking inside his mouth, poking his cheek as he processed the last word. A virgin? With that face and that body? Impossible.
"Whaaat?! Excuse me?" Mingyu piped up, a little bit too dramatic, as if Yugyeom had just uttered something scandalously absurd. And before he could proceed to reacting, Minghao threw in his two cents, siding with BamBam:
"Uh... guess I'm with him on this one. Trying to seduce someone who's green—Like Kim Taehyung? Doesn't really sound like a 'haha kind of joke." Minghao tittered nervously, scratching the back of his neck—if he were an anime character, a giant sweat drop would've popped up and slid down his forehead.
"First drag to bed, then seduce! The fuck is wrong with you? It's not!—" Yugyeom fired back, almost outraged by the weird preachiness that felt so out of place for a party like this.
"If anything, the nerd should feel lucky getting such a special chance to fix his virgin loser status." Eunwoo smirked, nodding towards Jungkook, he just couldn't stop joking. Probably it was the alcohol... or something else—whatever was in his system or his head.
"Virgin—who told you guys, huh?" Mingyu's eyes sharpened, disbelief cutting through his voice. "Did he tell you? Or were you two his cock-and-hole bouncers? On my mama, even if he'd confess—I wouldn't buy it. He'd be capping—must've got some kink!"
He yanked the phone from Yugyeom, shoving the photo of Taehyung's face into the center of the circle. "Check this out: resting bitch face, porn-star glasses, buttoned-up church dress code. But the body, the sass—he's doing it on purpose!"
It was a total drunk, crude comedy, absolutely unhinged. In the middle of it Yugyeom was trying to keep from cracking up. "The damn glaze—calm your balls, okay? Mingyu, aren't you kinda out of character for your 'marry' challenge? Maybe stay in your cheesy lane and leave horny jail for Jungkook?"
Everyone laughed again. Except for BamBam, who sipped his beer and muttered under his breath, 'I swear to god—y'all are psychotic.'
Jungkook didn't engage for now; he wanted to hear all the talk. Having only recently come back to Korea, everything felt sharper—messier, crazier, more competitive. He hadn't expected to come across someone from his childhood, especially here at the same university, yeah, the University of Art, where Jungkook was now majoring in Music, all about film scores and soundtracks. The last person he thought he'd stumble upon was Taehyung. Even just seeing his face on that roulette photo caught him off guard—now that he was slowly remembering him. How come he hadn't seen him on campus yet? Curiosity piqued, Jungkook wanted to know what kind of man Taehyung had grown into. And he had to admit, the thought of seeing him face to face was... exciting.
Bang Christopher Chahn, aka Bang Chan—the Liner who'd been lounging quietly with his drink—decided to toss out his take.
"Man, unlike Yugyeom, Mingyu, and Eunwoo, I don't really mess with this nerd much, but he looks... hard to crack. Like, the other day me and the boys were wilding in the locker room—shirtless, whistling—he didn't even glance up. Walked right past everyone with his damn books! Bro, for real. Is he the type who thinks a wild night is reading till dawn and is clueless when you're sliding in? I dunno, but if we're talking smash difficulty level... I'd say it's gotta be Insane."
Everyone cracked up, cackling and clapping, throwing out puns.
"New endgame unlocked! Deadass!"
"Facts. Bet the speedrun and boss fight will be brutal!"
"Virgin nerd—the final boss of hookups."
Jungkook, being the hardcore gamer he was, couldn't help but chuckle. Even after years abroad, he was still just like his fellow students in Korea—obsessed with games, video games, streaming, and all the hype and shenanigans that came with them. He was a player in real life, too—more often than not, real life was just another platform for him to play on.
"More like Nightmare Mode." Eunwoo scoffed. "My mutuals from the acting class have been chitchating, just so you know—the only shit that makes Kim Taehyung hard is art, music, science, poetry... it's his only porn and dope. He gets off to Van Gogh, Vivaldi, fucking Shakespeare—not you suckers." He said it snarkily, fishing a cigarette and lighter from his pocket.
Jungkook raised a brow. "Sounds like you know him better than the rest of us, and certainly better than I do. Interesting... haven't heard a thing about this kid in, like, forever."
"Yeah, I figured." Eunwoo flicked his lighter, eyes on the flame, voice dropping lower. "Remember the ugly duckling everyone picked on? Skinny, pimpled face, sunburnt, walking in the trashiest clothes. He was nicknamed country freak. Had no friends, hah—I mean, seriously, who'd want to hang out with a dirt-faced farmer's kid? This total nugu came from Gyeongsangnam-do, not even Daegu, broke as hell. He always butted into our games and parties when no one invited him. No one. Of course, after you left overseas, a lot has changed. That nerd started acting unbothered, ghosted everyone like a cold bitch. But then he got this glow-up... and suddenly he's the prettiest guy on campus. Looksmaxxing, my ass! Nobody liked him before. Now everyone's just pretending, since this stupid soft male aesthetic is trendy. But let's be real... he's still the same loser—just with a cuter face and better dressed."
The words slowly stirred something in Jungkook. And then it hit him like a sudden trip. Scattered fragments of memory surfaced—a hallway, teary eyes that lingered too long, a small face blurred with time... when the hell did it happen? Did it even happen? Seems like it was so long ago it faded into everything else. Taehyung, this tiny shy boy, always behind him, following like a lost puppy. It's like he was there, on school trips, summer vacations, playgrounds—in each of these broken puzzle pieces, barely forming a whole picture. Still, Jungkook somehow flitted through it, having no idea, for what... as if he should even care.
"So that's it? You're really gonna... bully him—because he's a loser?" BamBam finally asked, clicking his tongue, his tone carrying the tiniest hint of actual concern buried under the usual fratboy nonchalance.
Eunwoo shot back without missing a beat. "Not just a loser. Nerd is a little smartass who thinks he's above everyone 'cause he knows his stuff better. Pulls that whole untouchable, tortured artist card like it's a flex. Who even cares if he gets all sad and cries? Deserved. And honestly...nobody's trying to sit through his boring-ass history-science rants. Maybe if only he could be a little more humble—"
"Alright, Cha Eunwoo. Chill." Jungkook tossed a hand up, signaling to cut the roast. He could tell Eunwoo was gearing up for his 'kill' challenge streak, which was rather funny—but right now, he wanted to hear what the other side would say.
BamBam took a deep breath, slightly nervous to give his take, he spoke anyway.
"Jungkook...you do realize somebody might still get hurt, right? I mean, you guys might get called out for this—playing with others, turning them into game targets without their say. Like, shit, this is so sketchy."
Jungkook blinked. "Huh."
Weird... anyone from my gang giving a fuck, that much? He buried the cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed a fresh one, and lit it. The flame danced to his lips as he let out a sigh and a lazy cloud of smoke drifted up. "BamBam, my man. Do you remember the last chick or a guy you banged for one night? Did you warn them you were gonna ghost them after? You knew damn well you would. No strings attached. That's how it goes, play, forget, move on."
The loud approval filled the room as Jungkook leaned back after a long drag, exhaling slowly. He grinned, flashing his teeth. "C'mon. Don't tell me you've never played games with your crush. Everybody's done it. You chased, they cheated, you bounced. No regrets, right? Don't look at us like we're some crazy assholes—we're just like everyone else, and you're no different than us."
BamBam stiffened, clearly conflicted; Jungkook's taunting words hung heavy over the room like haze. But he wasn't ready to let it go.
"Alright, but what if someone might say, there's a difference between vague intentions and straight-up plotting—it's like borderline emotional manipulation."
The argument was instantly drowned out by a chorus of boos from the entire booth, thumbs flicking down like a collective dismissal of his moral high ground. "Boo! Stop being cringe!" someone shouted. "Get outta here!" another yelled. "Uncool as fuck!" and "L take!"
Jungkook chuckled lightly, disbelief written all over his face at how seriously BamBam was taking it all. Rolling the cigarette between his fingers, he tilted his head, smirking. "I don't remember you getting this riled up when the boys threw gangbangs and fuckfests—did you ask to have a therapy talk with every side piece on my body count list? That's rich, coming from the guy who lined up my one-nighters like routine. Thought you were open minded, hmm... gaebangjeok."
These words made BamBam swallow his tongue, searching for a snappier comeback, which he ultimately failed. He knew damn well Jungkook was dragging up all the drunken, wild parties and insane stunts from their past—doubling down to remind him none of them were saints. Brutally honest.
As for Jungkook... well, he had no business defending a stupid little prank game, and maybe tomorrow he'd forget all about it, once sober. Was this addiction to winning? Or was it the group ego? Just him standing up for his pack and all the chaos they'd always gotten away with—not the first time he'd gone head-to-head over something like this, he could even have taken it further.
"Okay, cool. You got me, Jungkook." BamBam finally said, trying to look unbothered. "But hey. First of all, guys, it's not what I think. I said, what if someone might say—I mean we're dealing with someone not from our circle, someone out of our league."
"Kim Taehyung is not a stranger to me." Jungkook replied, voice dropping low, his breathing heavier, the smile fading from his lips as he spoke. "We all grew up together—playing games, fooling around... till our early teens. Yeah, we were damn kids. Even after I moved to America, I can recall these times." He tugged lightly at the collar of his white shirt, just enough to let a breath of air hit his sweaty skin, jaw tight for a moment before his smirk returned. "Yeah, I fucked around with my new friends there—and we did the wildest, craziest, dumbest shit. Here I am, thinking you guys had grown out of this teenage crap. But damn... even now, coming back, at the uni, I've already been pranked like ten fucking times. Guess that's just how we roll."
"Pranked already—that much?!" Bang Chan asked, curious, half-laughing in disbelief.
"Yeah," Jungkook huffed a laugh, brushing back the tousled hair that kept falling into his eyes. "First day, a goddamn condom bomb dropped on my head, someone swiped my underwear, then snuck kimchi in my bed—a whole bunch of nasty-ass shit I won't even bother counting, oh—and lube all over the shower floor—I almost broke my arm. Nice try, losers. Sleep with one eye open."
Jungkook gave a quick finger-to-eyes warning, a smug, mischievous grin in place, daring anyone to challenge him. For a split second, the whole group of Liners plastered on their most angelic faces, masking every trace of guilt.
"And that's what I was saying," BamBam shot in, timing it perfectly, "If you guys gonna pull these kind of pranks on Kim Taehyung—"
"Bro, I don't get it—are you lowkey covering his nerdy ass or what?" Eunwoo fired back, wincing with disdain.
"Me? Covering him?!" BamBam let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Bahaha! No way. Unlike you, I'm not drunk or high—I'm just trying to cover your asses, thinking of all the shit that could go down. But how the hell do I get this through your wasted, crackhead brains without sounding like a total coward? Fuck it... I'll say it." He shot a glance at Jungkook. "Think about it—what if Kim Taehyung actually figures out what you guys are up to? You're the ones calling him some genius-smart freak. What if he finds out and decides to take revenge... tattling to the teachers, the uni officials, the whole damn campus? He'll cry about it to the entire uni!"
His words landed like a plot twist. Everyone went quiet, puzzled, as if the possibility had completely slipped their minds. Then—over the buzz of muffled bass—a loud, hysterical laugh erupted. Jungkook, breathless, head falling back against the couch.
"Revenge? Please. Bet the only thing he'll cry about is my dick being too big for him."
In an instant, the rest of The Liners went off— laughter tearing through the booth in every direction.
Jungkook wiped tears from his eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm just kidding. That was a joke. BamBam really needs to cool it—time to wind down. And you know what else? Not gonna lie, the only "problematic" challenge is Eunwoo's, but hey, no crossing lines, right?"
Eunwoo, still catching his breath from laughing, just waved him off, leaning his full weight against Mingyu, who was hollering along. Even Yugyeom was holding his stomach. The clash of seriousness and total absurdity in this room was absolutely insufferable.
While the booth seethed with chortling and chattering, Jungkook casually snatched Yugyeom's phone off the table, eyes locked on the photo still up there. His one hand holding a cigarette on its last ember, the other tapped and swiped through the gallery—official university shots of Kim Taehyung, nothing private, nothing forbidden.
"He's not a virgin," Jungkook said without lifting his eyes from the screen. "Who even is nowadays? Hell, a man? Ugliest motherfuckers get laid. And Kim... he's far from ugly." His gaze lingered, sharp, assessing. "But who knows? When we fuck, I might as well find out."
"So... you're gonna fuck him?" BamBam asked bluntly.
"Duh," Jungkook said, voice casual, eyebrows arched like it was painfully obvious. He ground his cigarette into the ashtray without even clocking how many he'd gone through by now—just knew this one was the last for tonight.
"Just like that?" BamBam asked again, incredulous.
Jungkook pushed off the couch, his eyes sparking like fire, smile unreadable—like an omen of trouble, chaos, or something more.
"God knows... he might end up begging me for it. On his knees. And when I'm done? He'll beg for more."
...Like always, Jungkook didn't remember the rest of the night. Just flashes. Bodies slamming into him. Lights blazing through smoke. Bass throbbing. Music and voices piercing his skull, blending to endless noise and blur—bleeding into each other until none of it mattered. Mindless, he paid no attention to how he ended up grinding against somebody. The guy—cute face, hot smile, pressed against his torso way too close. He knew nothing about the guy's name, didn't care. Too drunk and dizzy, in the middle of it all, his mind was fixed on a different person... Somewhere else, somewhere far. Strangely, for the first time in forever, the pulse in his chest wasn't so static. He felt not so bored. Not so numb. Jungkook wasn't thinking about assignments, or life, or the mess of his future—just the game, the chase, the thrill, the high, and... him.