77
Third Person Pov
Seokjin had been driving for almost an hour without realizing where the road was taking him.
The narrow road stretched endlessly ahead--quiet, empty, untouched by the rush of the city.
He could hear nothing but the hum of the engine and the faint whistle of wind slipping through a crack in the window.
His fingers tapped the steering wheel, more out of habit than rhythm, his mind miles away from the asphalt rolling beneath him.
His thoughts kept circling back.
First to Jungkook. Then to Taehyung.
Always back to Taehyung.
He inhaled sharply.
Of course Jungkook had gone for him.
Of course the man who destroyed everything would be the same man Taehyung still waited for.
Seokjin wasn’t angry, not really.
But something inside him felt… tight. Quietly bruised.
He was happy for his brother, he truly was. Jungkook returning meant Taehyung wouldn’t be alone anymore, wouldn’t bury himself under the weight of responsibility and exhaustion.
Jungkook was determined, relentless, and when he wanted something someone... he didn’t let go.
Seokjin respected that. Even admired it.
But admiration didn’t protect the heart.
He drummed his fingers harder.
He shouldn’t have fallen for Taehyung.
He knew that the moment it happened.
He knew it when Taehyung smiled at him for the first time-- grateful and something inside Seokjin twisted painfully.
He knew it... that for Taehyung, he was always just a "Thank you, Mr.Kim."
Not want me, not choose me, not stay with me. Just thank you.
Taehyung never gave him hints. Never gave him hope. Never looked at him with anything beyond respect and trust.
And Seokjin loved him anyway.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as the car turned slowly around a bend.
The bitter truth was simple:
Taehyung’s heart had only one direction.
Jungkook.
Even when Taehyung’s eyes burned with betrayal, even when he hated Jungkook, even when he ran away from him…
His eyes still searched for him.
Every. Single. Time.
Seokjin gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Why him…” he whispered under his breath, voice lost inside the car.
Why Jungkook? Why the man who broke him? Why the man Seokjin could never compete with?
But love was stupid.
Love didn’t choose the safe option.
It chose the one that hurt.
The one that ruined.
The one that burned.
And Taehyung had burned for Jungkook long before Seokjin could even count.
So Seokjin did the only thing that didn’t feel selfish. He stepped back. He stayed on the sidelines. He loved quietly, from a distance, like a shadow that protected without being noticed.
His chest tightened.
“I hope he doesn’t hurt you again…” Seokjin murmured, eyes softening despite the ache. “I hope he fights this time.”
The lonely road stretched ahead of him, and Seokjin finally exhaled full of emotions he’d never admit to anyone.
Not even to himself.
Seokjin was still lost in his thoughts when something in the distance snapped him back to reality.
A car.
Stopped in the middle of the road.
Hood open, smoke faintly curling upward.
He slowed down, frowning.
Before he could fully stop, someone ran toward him... arms waving desperately.
A woman.
She reached his window, tapping rapidly like she was knocking the soul out of the glass. Seokjin stared at her, confused. She looked familiar… the face, the hairstyle…
What was her name? Nina? Somi?
He rolled the window down, and the woman gasped... her hand flying to her chest as if struck by lightning.
“You…” she breathed.
Seokjin blinked, utterly blank.
He was sure he’d seen her before, but his brain refused to cooperate.
Seeing his expression, the woman let out a tiny, embarrassed laugh.
“I’m Sohee,” she clarified quickly. “The one who came to your company that day—uh—the incident when I… complained…”
Ah.
Her. The dramatic one who had thrown paperwork onto the receptionist’s desk, blaming his company for everything gone wrong.
Seokjin gave a noncommittal hum of recognition.
Sohee tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “Uh… well, Mr. Kim… my car broke down. And I just…you know… I bought it from your company—”
He raised a brow, already sensing where this was going.
“So you're going to accuse my company again for your lack of maintenance?” he asked dryly.
Sohee’s eyes widened as she choked out a laugh. “No! I mean—maybe—no! I mean… look, I got two cars from your brand and they keep breaking down and maybe your engineers need to work a little—”
She froze mid–ramble.
She was digging her own grave.
“I’m sorry,” she corrected quickly, lowering her head. “I didn’t go for the usual maintenance. I know. That’s why it… fell apart.”
Seokjin exhaled long and slow, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I see.”
Silence.
Then he sighed again, this time resigned.
“Get in.”
Sohee blinked.
“Y–You’ll drop me?”
He nodded, expression calm but eyes tired.
She lit up instantly.
“Oh—thank you! Really, thank you!” She hurried back to her broken car, snatched her purse, keys, and a small bag, then jogged back toward his.
She opened the passenger door, slid into the seat, and shut the door gently.... almost reverently, like she was afraid it might break too.
Seokjin didn’t look at her. He simply shifted gears and drove.
Sohee sat with both hands on her bag, glancing repeatedly at him from the corner of her eye.
This was her third time meeting Kim Seokjin.... tall, handsome, annoyingly calm Kim Seokjin. And this time, their meeting wasn’t filled with her yelling.
She cleared her throat.
“Soo… uh… how’s your day going, Mr. Kim?”
Seokjin stared straight ahead.
“…It was peaceful.”
Sohee hummed. “Oh.”
A beat of silence passed.
Then she added, quietly,
“I’m sorry for ruining that too.”
Seokjin didn’t respond immediately. But the faintest, smallest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Barely there. Gone in a second.
But it was there. He simply kept driving, letting the road swallow the moment whole.
“And uh...” she muttered, voice small. “I usually don’t cause trouble for people.
Or well… I try not to. But my luck is… terrible.
I think the universe has a personal grudge against me.
Like—look at today! Car breaking down in the middle of the road?
Really? It feels like a drama scene... minus the hot male lead. ”
Seokjin finally glanced at her.
Just one second.
But that was enough for her to choke.
“I MEAN—not that you aren’t good-looking!” she corrected in a panic, waving her hands. “You’re very—handsome? Very much? Like a model?A very expensive one?”
Seokjin blinked slowly, as if processing… all of that chaos at once.
Sohee slapped a hand over her mouth.
“I’ll stop talking.”
“Thank you,” Seokjin said instantly.
But two seconds later.
She whispered, “…But seriously, your cars break a lot.”
Seokjin’s jaw dropped open.
“…Sohee.”
She shrank in her seat, hugging her bag tighter.
“I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “Sometimes my brain races ahead and my mouth follows without permission.”
He let out a quiet sigh.
“You are unbelievable.”
Sohee peeked at him, hopeful.
“In a good way?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer. But the corner of his mouth lifted again just a little. And Sohee saw it this time.
Her whole face lit up.
.
.
.
Jungkook ended his last call and finally pushed himself off the couch, rolling his stiff shoulders. He wandered into the kitchen and stopped, staring at the empty shelves like they personally offended him.
He opened a cabinet.
Nothing.
Another.
Still nothing.
Next drawer..
Two rubber bands and a single spoon.
He stared at the spoon for a long second.
Of course.
This is what he gets for moving into a house in the middle of nowhere without checking anything.
He opened the fridge.
Ice-cold air and one sad lemon greeted him. He closed it immediately.
His brain, cold and cruel as always, gave a flat thought: So I’m either starving or grocery shopping.
He grabbed his wallet, slid on his cap, and stepped outside with the energy of a man who did NOT want to socialize with humanity.
He locked his door.
He adjusted his cap, slid his hands into his pockets, and prepared himself for the thrilling task of buying groceries despite not knowing what groceries were supposed to be.
He took three steps.
Stopped.
Taehyung walked out of his house, Gyuri clinging to him like a koala, her tiny fist wrapped in the collar of his shirt.
Taehyung wasn’t aware Jungkook was standing there until he turned to lock his door.
The second he saw him, Taehyung’s whole spine went stiff. Not scared, just annoyed with the universe.
“Binnie, Appa will be back soon. Don’t open the door for anyone,” he called into the house before closing it.
Jungkook didn’t say a thing. Didn’t even shift. Just stood there, under the brim of his cap, like this was all mildly entertaining background noise.
Taehyung walked past him without looking. Not one glance.
Not even by mistake.
Jungkook didn’t turn his head.
But his eyes followed him.
A little amused.
Taehyung pretending he was invisible was, unfortunately, Jungkook’s favorite form of entertainment.
He started walking behind him... not too close, not too far. Just perfectly positioned to irritate Taehyung without giving him the satisfaction of complaining.
Gyuri noticed first. She twisted in Taehyung’s arms, eyes big and shiny as she stared right at Jungkook.
One second later, she giggled. Loud. Taehyung pretended he didn’t hear.
Gyuri stretched one tiny hand toward Jungkook, fingers grabbing at the empty air between them.
Taehyung sighed through his nose.
“Gyuri… no reaching for random people. Be good.”
Gyuri ignored him completely and kept reaching.
Jungkook’s face didn’t change, but something sharp flickered in his eyes.
He didn’t reach back, didn’t react but the slight tilt of his head, almost unnoticeable, carried a smugness Taehyung definitely would’ve slapped off.
Taehyung picked up his pace.
Jungkook matched it easily, hands still in pockets, walking like someone who didn’t chase only followed when he wanted to.
Taehyung’s jaw twitched.
Gyuri made another happy noise, practically glowing at Jungkook.
Taehyung clutched the grocery bag at his side, annoyed at everything... the situation, the universe, the fact that Jungkook was breathing anywhere within a five-meter radius of him.
His thoughts were a chaotic mess.
Why is he here?
Why quiet? Why calm?
Why following me like some demon?
Why does Gyuri like him?
Why the hell does he look like he belongs here?
Meanwhile Jungkook’s thoughts were neat, simple.
He’s irritated again.
He walks too fast when he’s nervous.
The girl's socks don’t match.
Taehyung kept walking, determined to pretend Jungkook was a hallucination.
Jungkook kept following, determined to pretend he wasn’t enjoying this a little too much.
Gyuri? Still reaching for Jungkook like she’d seen the moon walking behind them.
The market was loud in a way Jungkook wasn’t used to.
.. alive, messy, chaotic. People brushed past each other, yelling prices, arguing over discounts, laughing at private jokes he didn’t understand.
It smelled like frying noodles, and fruit skins crushed under hurried footsteps.
Everything here was saturated with colour and sound, a place where ordinary people seemed to know exactly how to exist.
Jungkook didn’t belong to a world like this. He’d never needed to. And yet here he was, hands shoved deep into his pockets, moving through the crowd behind a man who had every reason to want him dead. Still, Jungkook followed him like he’d been doing it all his life.
Taehyung walked ahead with a determination that didn’t require backward glances. He adjusted Gyuri in the baby strap with a practiced motion that spoke of routine, independence, and a life he’d built all his life.
They stopped at the vegetable stall.
Taehyung picked up a shopping basket, the plastic handle clacking as he lifted it. Jungkook reached out and took another one with quiet certainty, mirroring Taehyung without hesitation. The stall owner barely spared them a glance, too busy shouting at a customer arguing over the price of tomatoes.
Gyuri, however, noticed. Her big eyes widened the moment she spotted Jungkook. She studied him. Every time Taehyung moved, Gyuri leaned a little to keep him in her line of sight.
Taehyung began selecting vegetables, moving with surprising speed. His hands were sure, practiced... clearly someone who had done this alone for a long time. He didn’t pause to think or compare prices; he simply picked what he needed.
And Jungkook copied him.
Not discreetly. Not thoughtfully. Definitely not intelligently. He copied with the precision of a malfunctioning robot whose only command was: do whatever Taehyung does.
Taehyung grabbed mushrooms.
Jungkook grabbed mushrooms.
Taehyung picked corn.
Jungkook picked corn.
Taehyung tossed leafy vegetables into his basket.
Jungkook tossed leafy vegetables into his own—twice the amount, none of which he even recognized.
Sprouts, potatoes, capsicums, spinach. Whatever Taehyung’s hand brushed, Jungkook’s hand followed two seconds later with blind, almost comical devotion.
Taehyung didn’t need to turn around to know. He didn’t need visual confirmation. The stupidity was so loud he could feel it.
He muttered under his breath, “This man is unbelievable,” pulling Gyuri closer as he walked to the cashier.
Jungkook followed at the same steady pace, expression absolutely unreadable. To anyone watching, he looked like this was the most reasonable way a person could shop for groceries—copying another man item for item with total seriousness.
Taehyung paid in cash, shifting Gyuri’s weight to his other shoulder. Jungkook stood behind him, watching the entire transaction with a strange intensity, as if memorizing the way Taehyung handled money was vital for survival.
The moment Taehyung moved toward the fruit stall, Jungkook shadowed him like a silent bodyguard or a very confused duckling.
Taehyung reached for apples.
Jungkook reached for apples immediately after, selecting the exact same kind.
Taehyung inspected a bunch of grapes before choosing one.
Jungkook grabbed the same grapes like it was a test he couldn’t afford to fail.
Then Taehyung selected oranges... just a few. Practical.
Jungkook chose oranges too.
Three entire bags.
He didn’t even blink. Apparently, oranges were suddenly essential.
Taehyung didn’t react verbally, but his jaw tightened just enough to show he’d noticed.
Gyuri wriggled in the strap again, twisting her head to see Jungkook. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity; she seemed convinced this tall, broad man was some fascinating, harmless creature.
Jungkook still hadn’t spoken a word.
Taehyung paid again in cash, sliding the notes out of his wallet with one hand while steadying Gyuri with the other. Jungkook stared at his fingers, at the careful, gentle way Taehyung managed everything alone, and then followed him to the next stall without even pretending he had his own plan.
The shopkeeper looked between Jungkook’s overflowing basket and Taehyung’s well-organized one before whispering to his colleague, “Is he feeding an entire nation or starting a vegetable business?”
Jungkook didn’t hear them—but even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared.
He cared only about Taehyung’s footsteps. He cared that he was walking.
And that Jungkook was right there behind him, steady and silent, as if this strange, makeshift routine between them was the only thing that made sense.
He didn’t know what he was doing. Not really. But whatever Taehyung did, Jungkook was fully, stubbornly committed to following.
The path to the meat shop narrowed. People brushed past each other, voices overlapping, vendors shouting prices over baskets of bright red chilies and stacked onions. Taehyung kept walking, jaw clenched, Gyuri tucked securely against his chest as he tightened the strap one more time.
He hated that he could feel Jungkook behind him. He hated that Jungkook walked like a shadow that refused to detach.
Just as he reached the entrance of the meat shop, a woman hurried past carrying two heavy bags of rice, completely unaware of her surroundings.
She slammed into Taehyung’s shoulder.
Taehyung’s balance vanished for a split second
and Jungkook’s hand was on him.
Fast and Possessive.
His palm wrapped around Taehyung’s waist, fingers digging in just enough to anchor him but not enough to bruise. His other hand came up as if to steady Taehyung’s arm but stopped an inch away, hovering. Gyuri's eyes widened.
Taehyung inhaled sharply, a sound caught between surprise and discomfort.
Jungkook felt the tiny tremor that ran through younger's shoulder.
His grip loosened but not fully.
His fingers refused to leave Taehyung’s waist.
They just stayed there.
Warm. Firm. Unshakably present.
Taehyung slowly looked over his shoulder.
Jungkook stared back.
Their breathing synced for a second..
uneven on Taehyung’s side, unbearably controlled on Jungkook’s.
Jungkook tilted his head just slightly, his eyes dropping to Taehyung’s lips before flicking back up to his eyes as if he hadn’t just looked.
Taehyung swallowed hard and stepped forward, forcing Jungkook’s hand to fall away.
“Thank you,” Taehyung muttered, not meeting his eyes as he adjusted Gyuri, who had gone silent from the sudden jolt.
Jungkook dropped his gaze to his own hand flexing his fingers like they still remembered the warmth, the softness, the way Taehyung fit against him... irritated it had to let go.
Taehyung walked inside the shop quickly, pretending the moment didn’t make his heart crash against his ribs.
Jungkook followed.
Inside, the smell of raw meat and metal chilled the air. Taehyung stood at the.
Gyuri cooed softly, her little fingers curled in Taehyung’s shirt.
Jungkook didn’t look at the meat.
He looked at Taehyung.
Every preference. Every gesture. Every unnoticed habit. He was memorising him like a man starving.
Taehyung reached for the packet the butcher handed him, and the hem of his shirt lifted just enough for Jungkook to see the skin of his waist.
Jungkook’s eyes lingered.
Too long.
As usual, Jungkook picked the exact same meat Taehyung ordered silently placing identical packets in his basket.
The butcher, a nosy middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, raised a brow.
“Both of you buying the same things?” he asked, smirking. “Planning to cook together or something?”
Taehyung froze.
Gyuri blinked.
Jungkook slowly turned his head toward the shopkeeper with a cold, blank stare that felt like a slap made of ice.
But the butcher didn’t stop.
He leaned in, whispering with a laugh, “Or he’s just copying whatever the pretty one buys?”
Taehyung’s ears burned scarlet.
Jungkook’s expression didn’t change but his posture did. He straightened, head tilting ever so slightly, his voice slicing through the air:
“If I wanted your opinion,” he said, tone flat and lethal, “I’d buy your tongue.”
Jungkook paused, his stare cruel.
“And judging by how much you run it, it’d be cheap.”
The shopkeeper’s face dropped.
Taehyung’s eyes widened.
Gyuri stared at Jungkook with open fascination.
The butcher swallowed hard, suddenly very quiet as he handed the packet with trembling fingers.
Taehyung grabbed it quickly and muttered a small apology to the air, not for Jungkook, but for existing in that awkward moment.
Jungkook didn’t apologize for anything.
Taehyung swallowed again, embarrassed, pulling Gyuri closer to his chest as if shielding her from the tension.
After paying, Taehyung walked out stiffly, a tiny puff of nervous air escaping his lips.
Jungkook followed, basket heavy, but his fingers still tingled with the ghost of Taehyung’s waist.
And neither of them said another word.
Once they left the busy market behind, the road opened into that quiet, lonely stretch leading toward their houses, only the sound of plastic bags rustling and Gyuri’s soft babbling breaking the silence.
Taehyung was trying to balance everything at once... grocery bags digging into one forearm, fruit bag on the other, Gyuri strapped snug against his chest. He held his chin high like he wasn’t struggling, but Jungkook could see the way his fingers stiffened.
Jungkook sighed.
He already knew Taehyung would hate it. He also knew he was going to do it anyway.
Without a warning, he stepped forward.
Before Taehyung could process a single thing, the weight vanished from his hands.
Jungkook took every bag.
All of Taehyung’s.
Along with his own.
It took Taehyung a whole second to register he was suddenly empty-handed, only Gyuri’s warm little body against him.
“You—” Taehyung started sharply, eyes narrowing.
“Give them back,” he demanded, stepping closer.
Jungkook didn’t even look at him.
“Keep walking.”
Taehyung glared hard, like he wanted to throw a stone at him right there on the road. He took another step, almost chest to chest now.
“I said give them back.”
His voice went tight with annoyance.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow... cool, slow, unimpressed. He didn’t shift the bags.
“And I said keep walking.”
His tone was calm in that infuriating, ironic way that always made Taehyung want to scream.
Gyuri poked Taehyung’s cheek with a tiny finger, a soft little distraction but Taehyung didn’t even notice. His glare stayed glued to Jungkook.
“Stop meddling in my things.”
His voice cracked with irritation.
He stepped closer again.
“First you–you come here when I told you not to follow me and… and now you’re just not letting me live! How-how dare you—”
The frustration tore out of him all at once... sharp, breathless, emotional.
Gyuri stiffened in her strap at the sudden rise in volume, tiny body going rigid.
Jungkook’s eyes flicked down immediately, assessing her in one quick glance... the only moment his expression softened, though barely.
Then he stepped forward.
Closer.
A slow, controlled movement, the kind that made Taehyung’s breath stop for a second.
Taehyung stepped back instinctively, heart pounding too hard, the space between them shrinking until the air itself felt charged.
Jungkook didn’t speak.
He didn’t argue.
He didn’t react like Taehyung expected.
“Are you walking,” Jungkook murmured, voice low. “or should I carry you too?”
The words slid over Taehyung’s spine like a challenge. His hands curled into tight fists. With Jungkook, nothing was ever just a joke... if he said it, he’d actually do it, without blinking. That was what made him terrifying.
Taehyung shot him a quick, sharp glare. Jungkook just held Taehyung’s gaze for a second before Taehyung spun on his heel and walked ahead, refusing to entertain him.
Behind him, Jungkook let out a barely audible scoff, the sound tinged with a smirk, and fell into step a few paces behind the younger.
Gyuri shifted against Taehyung’s chest, her tiny fingers clutching at his shirt.
“Mmm… paa…” she whined softly before giving an impatient little, “boo… boo…”
Taehyung flushed immediately. “My love, calm down… we’ll reach soon. Fifteen minutes,” he whispered, trying to soothe her, but the eight-month-old was having none of that patience.
She tugged harder.... determined, forceful for someone so small.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake—I’m not a woman,” Taehyung muttered, exasperated, adjusting the strap of the baby carrier.
Gyuri looked up at him with watery, offended eyes and let out another dramatic, “Mmpaa…”
Jungkook’s lips curled.
His gaze dropped to the way Gyuri kept tugging Taehyung’s shirt up, exposing small flashes of skin, and something sharp flickered in his eyes... something between amusement and hunger.
Taehyung, mortified, quickly caught her hands before she could lift the shirt again, and Gyuri immediately burst into betrayed tears.
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “You could try feeding her,” he commented, voice cool but undeniably entertained. "For comfort."
Taehyung stopped walking and glared back at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why don’t you try it too?”
Jungkook raised a brow.
“If I could feed her, I would. But I’m all hard muscle.” His eyes dragged down Taehyung’s chest, lingering shamelessly.
“Yours…” his gaze stayed there, “…is soft in all the ways she likes.”
Taehyung's eyes widened.
"...the way I like. More than her."
The last words slipped out quieter, almost like he wasn’t supposed to say them out loud, yet didn’t stop himself
Taehyung’s breath hitched in annoyance or something dangerously close to fluster and he turned around again.
He kissed Gyuri’s damp cheek tenderly, ignoring Jungkook’s stare burning into his back. Gyuri sniffled, eyes shimmering with fresh tears.
“Boo…” she whimpered, tiny hands reaching again.
Taehyung sighed, defeated, loosening his grip and letting her hold onto his shirt.
“Just a few more minutes, my love,” he whispered, bouncing her gently as he resumed walking, heart racing from more than just the baby’s cries.
Behind him, Jungkook followed silently and watching Taehyung far too closely.
They reached the houses, the quiet lane stretching before them. Taehyung stopped at his gate.
“I don’t want Gyubin to see you,” he said quietly, voice calm, almost too controlled. His eyes didn’t meet Jungkook’s as he extended his hands. “Give me the bags.”
Jungkook didn’t move. He stopped, letting the distance between them shrink to almost nothing. His presence pressed against Taehyung like a weight.
“I came here for you,” Jungkook said. Each word hung in the air, unyielding. Taehyung finally glanced up.
Jungkook’s eyes were no longer just the cold. They were raw, burning with something he refused to hide anymore.... desperation, need, and an intensity that made Taehyung’s chest tighten.
"I'm here for that smile,” Jungkook whispered, gaze locked on him. “The one you give everyone but me.”
Taehyung’s jaw clenched. His fingers gripped the bags tighter, almost shaking with a mix of frustration and something he couldn’t name.
For a heartbeat, he considered letting the moment break him, letting Jungkook’s words pierce through his careful control but then he pulled the bags from Jungkook’s hands with a sharp tug.
“Fine—keep struggling here then because I'm done giving you anything.” he muttered, turning away. He pushed open the gate and walked toward his door, Gyuri fumbling at his shirt, whining softly.
The click of the lock echoed in the empty street. Taehyung suvked in a shaky breathe, mind racing.
Outside, Jungkook stayed frozen for a long moment, staring at the closed door. His hands itched, his muscles tense. He exhaled slowly, almost inaudibly.
“I’m not struggling here… Taehyung,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“I only struggle when I’m without you.”
His gaze lingered on the house, unwavering, unrelenting, as if willing the door to open again, to let him in.
The door didn’t open.
He exhaled slowly, a quiet hiss of controlled frustration. Not anger, not despair just a simmering insistence that he would not be denied. He shifted the bags in his hands, adjusting his stance, muscles taut beneath the calm exterior.
Turning toward his own house, his eyes flicked once more to Taehyung’s door, memorizing the way it blocked him, memorizing the distance that was only temporary.
His pace was steady, unhurried, but the cold determination in every line of his body spoke volumes: Jungkook would never back down. He never did.