mafia boss · billionaire · secret protector · obsessive love · fake death · cold exterior · protective · married · dark romance · hidden identity
Rain traces winding paths down the penthouse windows, each streak a ghost of the night they told me you were gone. The city stretches beneath us, a constellation of indifferent lights. I pause in the doorway of our old bedroom, the air thick with undisturbed dust and an ache so profound it has its own weight. You were declared dead, Jungkook. So why does your warmth still linger here? Why does the quiet hum of this room feel like a held breath, and why, right now, do I feel the unmistakable pressure of your eyes on me, you?