"Jeon JungKook." The girl behind the desk called out. The familiar name turned a sea of heads as the man stood from his seat and grabbed his ticket from the counter. A ticket to his vacation far away from the crowd, opposite where he is. "Enjoy your flight, Mr. Jeon."
Jeon JungKook only gave a tight smile, enough interaction to keep his image, fighting the urge to glare. Once he is out of the country, he promised himself to temporarily change his name and rest somewhere far away, like where he is going now--Ireland. He quickly put his boarding pass in his laptop bag and quickly pulled his suitcase towards his gate. As he walked, the corridors of the airport filled with either his face as a celebrity endorser, and his friend, Kim Taehyung's Face. A famous model. He rolled his eyes again, glaring at the beautiful man's face from the picture. His mind went back a few nights before his flight.
"Don't you think that's a bit too far for a vacation?" Kim Taehyung asks, rubbing the rim of his glass delicately with his fingertips. He looks at Jung Kook, studying his face with his ethereal beauty.
"It is. Somewhere you wouldn't follow me." He said flatly. He saw his friend's face shoot him a scowl.
"Still... Too far away dude." Kim Seokjin chimes in as he enters the private room of their favorite Samgyupsal place. Taking his coat off and loosenin some of the buttons from his shirt and tie. Slumping his body to the comfort of the chair, while Min Yoongi, placed a glass of Soju in front of him.
"Leave the man alone. He's big enough to handle himself. Let him enjoy the isolation he wants." Min Yoongi says as he poured another whiskey to his now empty glass. JungKook flashes him a grateful look, he knew this brother would take his side no matter what his decision be.
"Can't I come with you?" Taehyung pestered.
JungKook shot him a scowl. "Piss off."
"No, you can't. You'll be walking for Louis Vuitton next month with Hoba. You can't go." Hye-ri, Taehyung and Jung Hoseok's manager and personal secretary. Sitting at the farthest corner, suddenly popping her head out of her laptop.
Taehyung rolled his eyes, making sure that Hyeri saw it, while she curled he lip upward in irritation. She had mumbled something, but couldn't really hear what she said.
"If this is about Sayuri--"
"AND then there you go, chew and imma feed you until your insides explode." Jung Hoseok placed a large Samgyupsal wrap In Taehyung's mouth, his gesture might have just saved their night by avoiding another fight between the two.
"The ticket's been emailed to you, JK. If you need it printed out just let me know. Your passport is with you, right?"
JungKook gratefully nods.
"Who's secretary are you anyway?" Taehyung asks in annoyance.
"I am all your secretary." Hyeri's says, emphasizing the word 'all'. The poor woman looked overworked from their hectic schedules. "Now you go and have a safe flight, JK."
-----
The breeze of Iceland welcomed JungKook.
(No, you read it right.) He secretly went to Iceland. He switched his flight at the last minute, not welcoming the idea of Taehyung following him. He loved Iceland, particularly the city of Akureyki. He would always visit the city as if it were his second home. No one knows him. No blinding camera lights and shutters. He was in his own world in this place.
Jungkook didn't expect Iceland to be this cold.
Not the weather-he came prepared for that. The cold that seeped into his bones wasn't from the snow or the wind off the fjord. It came from the silence.
The silence he begged for.
The silence he wasn't quite ready to sit in.
He had been here less than twenty-four hours, barely enough to get used to the rhythm of a place where time didn't seem to matter. No screaming fans. No cameras. No manager whispering his schedule through an earpiece.
Just... quiet.
First thing he did was check into an apartment dark enough to be swallowed in the shadows. The apartment was not that far away from the market, parks, restaurants. Once he was settled, he went out for a walk around the neighborhood. Walking with only a beanie on and not sporting a surgical mask over his face was refreshing.
He opted to go to the grocery store he saw earlier and stock up with supplies.
The local grocery store in Akureyri had the kind of silence only small towns in winter could master. A stillness broken only by the occasional shuffle of carts or the robotic hum of refrigerator aisles.
JungKook stood under the dim lights of the pasta section, hoodie up, sunglasses still on despite the soft indoor glow. His skin was pale, the kind of pale that came from spending too many days inside studios or behind blackout curtains. He moved mechanically, lifting a box of spaghetti only to set it down again. Nothing really mattered. He wasn't here for flavor. Just routine.
A woman's cart rolled in beside his, her eyes bright as she reached for the same brand of fettuccine. She noticed him-how could she not? He looked like a man trying to become invisible, the kind you only noticed because he so clearly didn't want to be noticed.
"Fettuccine's better with cream sauce," she said offhandedly, tossing the box into her cart with flair. "Unless you're a tomato guy, then... well. You'll need something with a little more bite."
No reply.
JungKook didn't even look at her. He shifted slightly, moved his cart an inch away, and walked off as if she hadn't spoken at all.
She blinked, lips pursing. "Okay then," she mumbled, amused. "Someone's got the personality of undercooked pasta."
She turned away, shaking her head, thinking that was the last she'd see of the hoodie ghost boy.
She was wrong.
***
A Few Days Later
Ivory wasn't thinking about him when she returned to the store. She didn't see him at first-probably too distracted, balancing an overloaded basket in one hand and scrolling through her phone in the other.
She turned the corner sharply, a rogue wheel wobbled, and And then-
Thud.
A loud grunt.
"Oh my God, I am so sorry-!"
He caught the cart before it could topple over completely, blinking at the whirlwind of a woman who had just tried to murder him with groceries.
Long, wind-tousled hair. Black boots still dusted in snow. Sunglasses perched crookedly on her head like she forgot they were even there. She looked like a storm-barely contained in a leather jacket.
Ivory winced.
He winced harder, clutching his foot. "You stubbed my toe," he muttered, voice laced with quiet pain.
She blinked. Then her eyes widened in recognition. "Oh. Hoodie guy."
He stared at her, deadpan. "We're doing nicknames now?"
"Well, I didn't catch your name last time. You were too busy ghosting me after my amazing pasta advice."
A pause. Then JungKook huffed-was that almost a laugh? "You talk too much."
"And you talk not enough," she shot back. "So maybe we balance each other out. Now I feel bad, at least let me treat you to something."
JungKook looked at her then. No sunglasses this time. Just tired eyes, sharp jaw, and a shadow of something unreadable behind his expression.
"You alright?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yeah," he said, lips twitching.
She narrowed her eyes. "You sure? That looked like it hurt."
"No, It did not." he says, his voice thick with sarcasm, rubbing his side. "I didn't feel a thing, I'm just here clutching my toe for nothing."
She stared at him for a second. Then laughed. Like a real, from-the-gut kind of laugh that caught him off guard.
"You're funny," she said. "I like that."
He watched her straighten her cart with one hand and tuck her phone into her coat with the other. Her movements were quick, efficient, unapologetically bold. She didn't move like someone trying to impress anyone.
And that, more than anything, intrigued him.
He opened his mouth to reply.
But instead, he said: "You owe me coffee. For the toe."
Ivory grinned. "Deal. But I'm not carrying your groceries."
He eyed the woman suspiciously, his dark eyes, intense and knowing. The woman looked at him indifferently, not knowing the weight behind those eyes, the weight of a thousand stories, secrets folded beneath the surface. He was clad in a simple black hoodie and ripped black jeans. Silver rings glinted on his finger as he put a hand in between his brows.
"I'm Ivory, by the way." Ivory offered her hand. Slender and pale.
He shook it. "I'm JungKo *Coughs*--Jake?"
"Jakey?" Ivory asked, leaning a little. Not hearing the two lettered names.
"It's Jake." Jung Kook lies. Picking up his long time alias that he hasn't used in a long time.
"Nice to meet you, Jake. Welcome to Akureyri. Sorry for almost killing you."
"Can I finish with my groceries first before you murder me again?" He asks, gesturing for the milk aisle.
Ivory rolled her eyes, her hands gesturing to the what ever he is going to do.
It was only when Jake turned his head toward the refrigerated section, scanning for something, that Ivory noticed it.
A glint.
Subtle.
But sharp.
A thin silver ring sat pierced through the corner of his bottom lip, barely catching the store lights as he moved. It wasn't loud or flashy like the ones teenage boys wore for rebellion-it was elegant. Sleek. Quietly defiant. Like him.
Ivory blinked, a little thrown.
She hadn't noticed it before. Maybe because he'd kept his head down, shadows from his hoodie drawn over his face. But now, in this oddly bright aisle filled with overpriced organic yogurt and silent tension, she saw him. A little more clearly.
Jake.
Not just another brooding, pale-faced man with secrets to spare. There was an edge to him now. Something... intimate.
He looked back at her briefly, catching her gaze lingering on his lips. She snapped her eyes up to meet his. Busted.
He raised an eyebrow. Just slightly. Almost smug.
"You done staring?"
Ivory, quick to recover, smirked. "Sorry. I didn't know pirates still grocery shopped."
That earned the ghost of a smile-barely there, but it curled the corner of his lips just enough to make that silver ring shift.
She'd remember that.
That glint.
That half-smile.
The moment a stranger started to matter.
***
Jake (Jungkook's POV)
He didn't come to Iceland for people.
Especially not loud, teasing ones with eyes that could see right through him.
He was halfway through checking the fat content on oat milk cartons when her voice cut in again-something about pirates and lip rings-and he had to stop pretending not to hear her.
When he turned to face her properly, it hit him.
Blue.
Her eyes were a different kind of blue. Not cold, glacier blue. Not the icy kind he saw across Iceland's skies or trapped under frozen lakes.
Standing in front of him where the bright fluorescent light cast her delicate features. She was blended east and west with high cheekbones, delicate jawline framed by a ravel-black hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Yet, it was her eyes that captured the man's attention: an otherworldly shade of blue, like the depths of the deepest ocean. Or the sky when it meets midnight.
Warm. Curious.
Too curious.
She was staring at his lip. Not the usual type of stare he got from people who knew. This was new. Unfamiliar. She didn't recognize him. She was just... staring.
And then she looked up-caught-and didn't even flinch.
"You done staring?" he muttered, hoping to shut it down.
But she smirked instead. "Sorry. I didn't know pirates still grocery shopped."
What the hell?
He almost laughed. Almost.
Who was this woman? With her messy bun and leather boots and too-bright eyes, walking around like this wasn't the most isolated corner of the world? Like she could talk to strangers with scars on their voices and rings in their lips?
She didn't feel real. And yet, here she was. Tossing sarcasm at him like she knew he could take it.
Jake turned back to the oat milk and walked away.
But he felt it-her gaze still on him.
And long after she left, the color of her eyes stayed.