𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓻: 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭. 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽. 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓼.🌷

The stadium glowed like a galaxy beneath the Seoul night sky. Silver lightsticks swayed in endless waves, looking like thousands of stars trembling in the hands of screaming fans. The giant screens reflected a face the entire country knew by heart—sharp eyes shining under the stage lights, dark hair damp with sweat, and lips curved around lyrics that had broken and healed millions of hearts.

Jeon Jungkook stood alone at the center of the stage. And yet, somehow, he had never looked lonelier. The final piano notes echoed through the massive stadium as his voice softened into a whisper.

The audience erupted. People cried, and fans screamed his name. Somewhere in the crowd, someone held a banner high: THE NATION’S LOVE SONGWRITER — JEON JUNGKOOK.

Fireworks exploded above the open roof of the stadium, painting the dark sky in silver and gold. Jungkook smiled. It was the perfect smile—the one the cameras loved, and the one he had practiced for nearly ten years.

He breathed into the microphone. The crowd screamed even louder. He bowed deeply, polite as always, humble as always, and beautiful as always. But when he lifted his head again, his eyes drifted unconsciously toward the empty corner backstage, as if he were searching for someone who had never once come to see him perform.

The lights dimmed, the concert ended, and Jeon Jungkook returned to silence. Inside the dressing room, the noise outside faded into muffled echoes. Stylists hurried around him, managers discussed schedules, someone handed him water, and someone else reminded him about tomorrow’s interview. Jungkook answered automatically with a nod, a small smile, or a quiet “thank you.” Nothing more. After years in the industry, he had mastered the art of existing without truly being present.

The dressing room door burst open dramatically. Jung Hoseok, his performance director and closest friend in the company, entered while clapping loudly.

Jungkook chuckled softly while removing his in-ear monitors.

Hoseok declared proudly, before suddenly narrowing his eyes.

Jungkook already knew where this conversation was going. He sighed.

Hoseok dropped onto the sofa beside him.

The makeup artists nearby burst into

Laughter. Jungkook groaned quietly.

This time, Jungkook froze for half a second. Just half a second, but Hoseok noticed. After knowing Jungkook for almost a decade, Hoseok had learned something important: whenever the topic of love came up, Jeon Jungkook’s eyes always looked like they were mourning someone.

Hoseok asked softly this time. Silence stretched between them, and the room slowly grew quieter. Jungkook lowered his head slightly, his fingers absentmindedly touching the silver chain hidden beneath his black shirt. It was a habit. He always touched that chain. Always.

Jungkook murmured instead. Hoseok watched him disappear into the private bathroom. The smile vanished from Hoseok's face because he knew the truth. Everyone close to Jungkook knew. There was someone—someone who existed in every song Jungkook had ever written, someone hidden inside every lyric about longing. It was someone who had broken the most loved artist in Korea long before the world ever learned his name.

Warm water poured over Jungkook’s face as he stood before the sink. He looked exhausted. It wasn't a physical tiredness, but something much deeper. His phone vibrated against the counter: Mother Calling. His jaw tightened instantly. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, but then he answered

Jungkook almost laughed. His mother only sounded gentle these days. Back then, gentleness had never existed between them.

Jungkook frowned slightly.

Her voice sharpened immediately, and the warmth vanished just like old times. Jungkook closed his eyes.

Silence took over. Outside the dressing room, distant cheers from fans still echoed faintly through the walls, but inside Jungkook’s chest, something cold settled quietly.

His mother's tone turned firm.

A child. It was funny to him. His parents still spoke as if his life belonged to them, even now.

He said flatly.

The call ended. Jungkook stared blankly at the dark phone screen for several seconds. Then, slowly, his hand moved toward the chain around his neck. He pulled it free carefully, revealing a tiny silver locket that rested against his palm. It was old and slightly scratched with time.

His fingers trembled almost invisibly before he opened it. Inside was a tiny photograph of a boy with soft, curly hair smiling brightly at the camera. His eyes were shaped like crescents, and he was holding a paint-covered brush between his fingers.

Even after all these years, just seeing his face still hurt. Jungkook stared at the picture for a long moment before whispering quietly,

No answer came. Only silence—the same silence that had followed him for nine years. Far away from the glowing stadium, rain began falling softly over a quiet hill outside of Seoul. A small house stood alone beneath the dark sky, surrounded by sleeping tulips. Inside the home, the walls were covered with paintings, and the air still held the warm, familiar presence of the person who lived there.

𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓻: 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭. 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽. 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓼.🌷

Rain continued through the night. By morning, Seoul looked washed in silver. Jungkook sat beside the window of his penthouse apartment, a cup of untouched coffee cooling near his hand while the city moved restlessly beneath him. Cars passed. People hurried to work. Screens across nearby buildings displayed advertisements with his face on them. Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Singer. Actor. Producer. National icon. A man loved by millions. And somehow, none of it filled the emptiness inside his chest. His phone buzzed again. This time it was a message from his manager.

Manager Kang:🖤 Don’t forget dinner tonight. Also your mother called me three times. Please survive.

Jungkook snorted softly. Even his manager sounded afraid of his parents. Another message appeared seconds later.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and locked the phone. For a while, silence settled again. Then unconsciously, his gaze drifted toward the piano resting near the living room wall. A melody lingered unfinished on top of scattered sheets of music.

He had written it at three in the morning. Another song no one would realize was about the same person. Always the same person. His fingers brushed the silver chain beneath his shirt. Still there. Always there.

🌷

By evening, Seoul glittered beneath city lights. The restaurant his parents chose overlooked the Han River, elegant and expensive enough to make normal people nervous just entering it. Jungkook arrived wearing all black. Cap low. Mask on. Even then, people recognized him instantly. Whispers followed him through the lobby. “Is that Jeon Jungkook?”

“Oh my God—”

Jungkook ignored all of it. The hostess guided him toward a private dining room. And the moment the door opened— he paused.

The man sitting inside looked up immediately. Warm brown eyes. Soft blond hair slightly falling over his forehead. A cream-colored sweater beneath a neat coat. Pretty.

Not in an overwhelming way. Comforting. Like sunlight during winter. The man stood quickly and bowed politely.

His voice carried a slight foreign accent. Jungkook bowed back automatically.

Ed laughed softly.

For the first time that day, Jungkook smiled faintly. Small. But real. They sat across from each other as servers quietly brought wine and expensive dishes neither of them touched much. Jungkook had already prepared himself for another exhausting conversation. Questions about fame. Questions about marriage. Questions about why he stayed single. But strangely… Ed asked none of them. Instead, he casually rested his chin against his hand and asked,

Jungkook blinked slightly. That was unexpected.

Jungkook studied him carefully. Most people approached him carefully, nervously, like he was something fragile or unreachable. Ed didn’t. He spoke naturally. Comfortably. Like Jungkook was simply another person

Jungkook admitted after a moment. Ed nodded immediately.

Jungkook let out an unexpected laugh. A genuine one this time. Ed smiled brightly at the sound, clearly pleased with himself.

The conversation flowed surprisingly easily after that. They talked about music. Travel. Embarrassing childhood stories. Ed spoke about studying abroad and failing to cook instant noodles despite living alone for years. . Jungkook actually found himself relaxing. For the first time in a long while, someone expected nothing from him. Not perfection. Not fame. Not even affection.. Just conversation. And maybe that was why Jungkook slowly lowered his guard. A little. Not completely. Never completely. At some point during dinner, Ed noticed Jungkook unconsciously touching the chain around his neck again. A tiny gesture. Protective. Instinctive.

He said gently. Jungkook’s fingers stopped moving. The air between them grew quieter. Most people would panic after realizing they touched a sensitive subject. Ed didn’t. He simply took another sip of wine and added calmly,

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Jungkook stared at him.

Jungkook looked down at the silver chain beneath his fingers. For a second… his chest hurt unbearably. Like memories clawing against old scars. Then he smiled faintly. Sad this time.

Silence settled briefly between them. Comfortable silence. Not awkward. Outside the glass windows, rain started falling again over Seoul. Jungkook watched the droplets slide down the glass slowly. And suddenly— for just one dangerous moment— another face flashed through his mind. A boy laughing loudly beneath spring rain. Curly hair soaked. Boxy smile brighter than the sun.

His heart twisted violently. He looked away immediately. Ed noticed the change in his expression but wisely said nothing. Instead, he quietly changed the subject

Jungkook almost choked on his drink. Ed burst into laughter.

A small smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips again. Maybe… this wouldn’t be as terrible as he expected.

Meanwhile, far across the city… inside a dark room lit only by a small lamp— an old sketchbook lay open on a desk. Every page contained the same face. Jeon Jungkook. Smiling. Sleeping. Laughing. Singing. Crying. Dozens. Hundreds. Like someone had desperately tried to preserve a person before losing them forever. And beside the sketchbook rested a single photograph. The edges worn with time. A younger Jungkook and Man together beneath cherry blossoms. Still smiling like forever existed.

The rain did not stop for three days. Seoul moved beneath gray skies while headlines flooded the internet after Jungkook’s concert. JEON JUNGKOOK COMPLETES ANOTHER SOLD-OUT STADIUM TOUR THE KING OF HEARTBREAK BALLADS RETURNS

Fans analyzed lyrics. Journalists invented rumors. Dating scandals appeared every few months only to disappear again. Jungkook ignored all of it. He had learned long ago that the world preferred beautiful lies over painful truths.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

Two weeks after the blind date, Ed sat inside Jungkook’s studio holding instant ramen while watching the singer struggle with lyrics.

Ed announced. Jungkook glanced up from the piano.

Jungkook looked down at the cold americano and half-eaten banana beside him.

Jungkook snorted softly. The studio felt unusually warm these days. Not physically. Ed had simply become… easy to be around. They never officially discussed the blind date again after that first night. Somehow, the relationship naturally shifted into friendship. Ed visited often. Sometimes they ate together. Sometimes he silently listened while Jungkook composed songs at three in the morning. And strangely… he never pushed.

Never asked questions Jungkook clearly didn’t want to answer. Never crossed boundaries. That alone made Jungkook trust him more than expected.

Ed said while slurping noodles dramatically,

Jungkook continued pressing random piano keys lazily.

Jungkook burst into quiet laughter.

Fair enough. The studio fell into peaceful silence again. Jungkook stared absentmindedly at the unfinished sheet music before him. A melody lingered there. Soft. Melancholic. Familiar. Every song somehow returned to the same place. The same memories. The same person. His fingers moved unconsciously toward the silver chain around his neck again.

Ed noticed this time. Not because he was nosy. Because Jungkook did it whenever his expression changed. Like touching the chain anchored him somewhere safe.

Ed murmured. Jungkook froze slightly.

Then slowly pulled the silver locket from beneath his shirt. The metal looked worn from years of use. Ed immediately shook his head lightly.

But after a long silence… Jungkook opened it anyway. Inside rested the tiny photograph. A young boy smiling brightly at the camera with paint on his cheek. Beautiful. Warm. Alive. Ed stared quietly. Something inside his chest suddenly hurt. Not jealousy. Something sadder. Because he instantly understood. This was not a person Jungkook merely loved. This was someone who had become part of his soul.

Ed said honestly. Jungkook’s thumb brushed softly across the tiny picture. His eyes gentled immediately. Like even after all these years, one photograph could still change the way he breathed.

He whispered. The name settled softly in the room. Ed leaned back against the couch.

Jungkook gave a tiny nod. Neither of them spoke for a while after that. Rain tapped quietly against the studio windows. Jungkook kept staring at the photo. And without realizing it— he smiled. Not the polished celebrity smile. Not the careful public expression. Something smaller. Fragile. Real.

Jungkook murmured suddenly. Ed looked at him quietly.

Jungkook laughed softly beneath his breath.

Jungkook’s eyes grew distant.

Ed choked laughing.

Jungkook laughed too this time. And for a moment… the loneliness around him eased slightly. But only slightly. Because memories were cruel things. The happier they were— the more they hurt.

That night after Ed left, Jungkook remained alone inside the studio. The city lights shimmered outside the tall windows. His fingers rested quietly against piano keys. But he didn’t play. Instead, he opened an old wooden drawer beside him.

Movie tickets. Polaroids. Handwritten notes. Tiny birthday decorations. A dried tulip pressed carefully between notebook pages. And beneath everything else— a faded university ID card.

KIM TAEHYUNG Department of Fine Arts

The photograph showed a younger Taehyung glaring at the camera dramatically while sticking paint-covered fingers toward the lens. Jungkook smiled helplessly.

He whispered. The memories came without permission after that. Like they always did. Bright spring sunlight. Campus hallways. Laughter. The smell of paint.