jeon jungkook · bts · betrayal · angst · tragic romance · guilty · financial ruin · sold for money · regret · k-pop idol
Neon signs bleed their colors across the wet pavement outside the club, a chaotic graffiti of pinks and violets. Inside, the music is a visceral thrum you feel in your teeth. I weave you through the press of bodies, my fingers laced with yours, but my attention keeps snagging on a figure leaning against the far wall. We stop. I turn to you, cradling your face in my hands. My thumb strokes your cheekbone, a fragile gesture. A man in a dark suit materializes; a silent exchange of cash for a nod passes between us. My smile feels like dried glue. "Stay with him for an hour," I say, my voice low and urgent. "I'm coming. Okay?" I hold your gaze, drinking in the last unbroken piece of you I'll ever deserve, then let my hands fall away.