The days after that rooftop encounter felt like walking on a tightrope. Every glance between Jungkook and me felt charged, every word we exchanged somehow carrying more weight than before. And Taehyung's playful teasing still lingered in my mind, the questions he asked and the way he seemed to notice things that I wasn't sure I even understood myself.
I couldn't deny that there was a shift in the air, a change in the rhythm between Jungkook and me. We were still friends, at least that's what I told myself every time I saw him, but something had changed, and I wasn't sure if it was just me or if he felt it too.
One evening, after a few too many unspoken glances and awkward silences, Jungkook invited me to join him for a late-night ride around the city. We hadn't done this in a while, not since our trip to Busan, and the idea of feeling the wind rush around me again was enough to pull me out of my thoughts. It was as if the open road had a way of helping me forget what was swirling inside me.
The bike's engine roared to life beneath me, the familiar sound soothing me, and as we raced through the quiet streets, I could feel the tension of the past week slowly starting to lift. The city was quieter at night, the neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement, casting an ethereal glow over everything. There was something calming about it—something that made me feel like everything was right in the world, even if just for a moment.
Jungkook rode beside me, his bike growling in sync with mine, his figure a silhouette in the city's haze. I stole a glance at him, the night hiding the expression on his face, but the way he rode next to me, so close, made it feel like we were connected in a way that words couldn't describe.
It wasn't until we reached a quiet park that he slowed down, parking his bike under a tree. The air was crisp, the kind of cool night that made everything feel still, like time itself was holding its breath.
I took off my helmet and ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled in my chest. I could sense he was watching me, waiting for something. I wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it.
"I've been meaning to ask you something," Jungkook said, his voice quieter than usual, the usual playful edge gone.
I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the casual tone I always had with him. "What's up?"
He hesitated for a moment before speaking, like he was gathering the courage to say whatever it was that was on his mind. "Are we... okay?"
The question caught me off guard. My breath caught in my throat, and I found myself looking away, staring at the ground instead of meeting his gaze. "What do you mean?"
"You've been distant lately," he continued, his voice a mixture of concern and something else I couldn't quite place. "I just... I don't know. I feel like there's something going on, but you won't talk about it. You've been avoiding me."
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words stuck in my throat. Was I avoiding him? I hadn't meant to, but the truth was, I was scared. Scared of how I felt, scared of what I was starting to realize about myself. I couldn't even look at him, not when the truth was right there, staring me in the face.
"I'm not avoiding you," I finally said, my voice quiet. "I just... I don't know what to say."
Jungkook's eyes softened, the intense look in his eyes replaced by something more vulnerable. "You don't have to say anything, Y/N. I just want to know if we're okay. If we're still friends."
I nodded, my heart aching at his words. He made it sound so simple, like everything could go back to how it was before, but I knew it wasn't that easy. How could it be when I was starting to realize that I wanted more from him than just friendship?
"We're okay," I said, though it felt like a lie. "We're always going to be okay."
But as I said the words, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were both lying to ourselves.
We spent the rest of the night talking, in that easy way we always did, but there was an unspoken tension between us, a pressure that neither of us knew how to address. Jungkook didn't press me any further, but the quiet moments between us felt heavier now, more loaded with meaning.
The ride back to my apartment was silent, the wind rushing past us, but the hum of the engine couldn't drown out the storm brewing in my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about what Jungkook had said—what he had felt. He was right to notice the distance, but how could I tell him what I was feeling? How could I say it out loud when I wasn't even sure what it all meant?
When we arrived back at my place, I didn't say much. I just thanked him for the ride and headed upstairs, my mind racing. I could feel the weight of the truth pressing against my chest, suffocating me.
But as I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I realized something: maybe I wasn't ready to admit it. Maybe I wasn't ready to confront how deeply I had fallen for him.
It wasn't just about the friendship anymore. It was about wanting him, about the pull I felt every time I was near him. But I wasn't sure if he felt the same, and I wasn't sure if I could handle the pain of knowing he didn't.
The night stretched on, and I drifted into a fitful sleep, the unanswered questions swirling in my mind.
The next day, Jungkook texted me, asking if I wanted to join him for another ride, but this time, something was different. He didn't press for plans, didn't try to make small talk. It felt like he was giving me space, like he was waiting for me to decide when I was ready to talk.
But as much as I wanted to, as much as I needed to—part of me wasn't sure if I was ready to confront what was really going on between us.
I wasn't ready to face the truth. Not yet.