The next morning, Jake found Ivory at the park, feeding some pigeons in her white dress, paired with a white converse.
"Just the person I wanted to see." He says, grinning.
"Good morning to you, too." She says, still sprinkling breadcrumbs.
"Hey... want to go to Denmark with me?"
Ivory blinked. "That's random."
He grinned. "Coldplay's playing tomorrow night."
Her eyes lit up before she could stop herself. "Coldplay?"
"You like them?"
"I love them."
He smirked, like he already knew. "Then it's settled."
They took her car to the airport. Windows down, hair tangled in the wind, laughter spilling into the road like sunlight.
By the time they reached Denmark, the sky was cotton-candy dusk. The crowd was electric. Jungkook kept close, always brushing shoulders, fingers, elbows, like he couldn't stand being too far. Ivory didn't mind.
The stadium roared as the first chords of Yellow rang out.
"You know I love this one," she said, eyes wide.
Jungkook leaned closer. "I know."
She looked down and laughed—another yellow dress. Not planned. Maybe fate had a favorite color too.
And when Chris Martin started to sing, Jake did too—softly, just for her. His voice in her ear like velvet and warmth.
"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you..."
Ivory's breath caught. Emotion rose like a tide she couldn't hold back.
She sang, quietly at first, then louder—her voice fragile and trembling with memory. She cried. But not the heavy kind. The kind that blooms from feeling too much, too deeply, all at once.
It was the first time Jungkook heard her sing.
He didn't say anything. Just held her hand.
They drove back in silence, the good kind. The kind where two people don't need to fill space with noise.
"Sing again?" he said suddenly, eyes still on the road.
Ivory turned, caught off guard. "Now?"
He nodded. "Your voice... it's beautiful."
And so she did—barely above a whisper at first, but enough to make Jungkook grip the wheel a little tighter.
The next morning, only hours in between their last goodbyes, before coffee, he knocked on her door.
"Let's go out."
She blinked at him, toothbrush still halfway to her mouth. "Again?"
Jungkook leaned against the doorframe with a smug grin. "Yeah. Every day, if you'll let me."
Ivory snorted. "Okay, lover boy. Can I at least shower first? Maybe breathe a little before you plan our honeymoon?"
He laughed, head tipping back, unbothered. "Take your time. I'll wait."
"You always do," she muttered under her breath, but her grin betrayed her.
That night, wrapped in the golden hush of evening, with his hands fidgeting under the table, Jungkook looked up.
"Would you have dinner with me?"
Ivory tilted her head, brow raised. "What do you think we're doing now? This isn't a hostage situation, you know."
He rolled his eyes, but his smile was shy. "I mean... have dinner with me."
She stared at him for a beat—then smiled, slow and soft.
"No jokes this time?" he asked.
"Nope," she said, clinking her glass to his. "Yes."
"Tomorrow. Come by the house. It's time to return the favor and let me cook for you."
***
The small Airbnb kitchen had been transformed. Candles flickered across the table, casting gold against wine glasses and warm plates. Outside, snow dusted the streets of Akureyri, but inside, it was cozy. A safe little bubble.
JungKook stood by the stove, plating dinner like he'd done this his whole life. "Okay," he said, setting the dish in front of Ivory with a little proud grin, "be honest. I cooked."
Ivory blinked. "Wait—you actually cooked this?"
He nodded. "No takeout. No cheating. All me."
She took a bite—and froze.
"What the hell, Jake," she said, wide-eyed. "This is actually—good. Like dangerously good."
He laughed, cheeks tinged pink. "Dangerously?"
"I might consider marrying you for this."
JungKook choked on his wine. "You're not even drunk yet!"
They laughed, the kind that loosened the nerves and softened the space between them.
As dinner melted into shared bites, stories, and laughter, he moved to the counter again. "Okay, don't freak out, but I also baked dessert."
"Get the hell out!" She stood, almost jumped from her seat to check the oven.
"Sit your ass down. I'm serious."
He returned with a small cake, pink in the center with a little cracked top, a dusting of powdered sugar. It looked charming. Homemade. Honest.
Ivory gave him a skeptical look before taking a bite.
"Okay. If you aren't leaving, I'd trap you in my kitchen," she muttered, licking a bit of sugar off her lip.
"Bold of you to assume I wouldn't let that happen."
She smirked, excused herself to the bathroom, still tasting the sweetness in her mouth. But as she turned the corner toward the hall, her steps slowed.
Near the door were two suitcases. Neatly zipped. One of them had his passport sticking out slightly from the top.
She stared.
Then blinked, willing her face to stay neutral.
When she returned to the table, she sat down, took another bite of dessert, then finally spoke, voice calm.
"So... those suitcases," she said, eyeing him carefully.
He winced. "You saw them."
"Didn't think you'd ghost me with dessert."
He exhaled, setting his fork down. "I was going to tell you. After dinner. After feeding you."
Ivory raised a brow. "So you planned the bribe?"
"No! Well—yes. A little." He leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just... I wanted to make this feel normal. Before I told you who I really am."
Her smile faded. Her fingers stilled on her fork.
JungKook met her eyes, then looked down at his plate. When he spoke again, his voice had softened.
"My real name is Jeon JungKook."
Ivory tilted her head slightly, curious.
"I'm a singer. From Korea. A... big one, I guess. I started when I was a kid. And for the past ten years, I've been everywhere—on screens, stages, cameras, interviews. All of it."
He looked at her again.
"You didn't know me. And that... was the first time in years someone saw me as just me."
Ivory was quiet. But her eyes never left his.
He kept going.
"I broke up with my ex months ago. She didn't take it well. Started talking to press, posting things online. Twisting stories. And people... they believe her. The cancel culture back home is ruthless. It doesn't matter if you're telling the truth. Once you're a villain in their eyes, it sticks."
His voice cracked a little.
"So I ran. I didn't plan Iceland. I just wanted to breathe. And then I met you... and suddenly I didn't want to leave."
A heavy silence followed. The kind that pressed on both their hearts.
Ivory finally spoke, voice soft. "You didn't have to cook dinner to earn my understanding, you know."
JungKook gave a dry smile. "But I did it anyway."
"I figured," she murmured. "You're a bit of a people pleaser."
He nodded, letting out a tired laugh. "Maybe. Or maybe I just didn't want the last memory of me in your eyes to be a bad one."
JungKook watched her in the warm candlelight. Her face half-shadowed, half-lit, quiet and unreadable.
"I realized something," he began, voice steady but thick. "That day in your wine cellar... when you looked me dead in the eyes and told me not to run anymore—I needed that."
Ivory looked up at him, just slightly.
"I needed you. That talk... it cracked something open. I haven't had anyone call me out like that in a long time. Or tell me to stop being afraid. You didn't even know the whole story, but it was like you saw through it anyway."
He smiled gently.
"That's why I called my manager. I told him I'm ready. To go back. To face it. To stop hiding."
Ivory's lips parted, but no words came right away. She just stared at the candle between them, watching wax pool and drip like time slipping through fingers.
Then softly, with a nod, "What time's your flight?"
JungKook answered. Quietly. Almost hesitantly.
Ivory only hummed. "Okay."
She stood up, gathering the plates with practiced ease. Then, with a dry chuckle—"Love bombing me with concerts, surprises, and daily dates just to hit me with the 'by the way, I'm leaving' speech? Classy move, Jake."
Her voice was light, teasing—but her eyes, for just a split second, gave her away.
Jungkook opened his mouth, but she beat him to it with a quick shrug. "It's fine. Really. I understand."
Because she didn't have the right to feel like this. Not when he never promised anything. Not when she knew he didn't owe her forever.
As she washed the dishes, he came up beside her. Silently took a towel and began drying each plate she rinsed. They moved in sync—like they'd done this before. Like it was normal. Domestic. A routine that hadn't existed but suddenly felt like it should've.
And maybe that was her answer too—no drama. No begging. Just... quiet acceptance.
And somehow, that hurt more.
Their hands brushed once. Then again. Until finally, their eyes met.
The clink of a plate softened into the background. The faucet still ran.
But time slowed.
Gravity bent around them.
And then—without thinking, without speaking—JungKook leaned forward. Just a little.
Ivory met him halfway.
A kiss. Soft. Barely a breath.
Just three heartbeats long.
Enough to feel something spark. Enough to know it wasn't imagined.
Ivory pulled away first, eyes wide. Her cheeks flushed a gentle pink as she tried to busy herself with the remaining plates.
"I—" she cleared her throat. "Guess I do like your cooking."
He chuckled. Softly. "Guess I like your wine."
They smiled, shy and a little breathless. The kind of smile you give when you both know something shifted, but you're not ready to say it aloud.
When it was time for her to leave, Jake walked her to the door. His packed luggage sat by the entrance like an unwanted guest.
Ivory looked at them once, then back at him.
"I'll see you around," Ivory said, tone light, casual—too casual.
But her eyes betrayed her. They lingered longer than her words. Glossed over. Heavy.
Jungkook nodded, trying to keep his own expression unreadable, unreadable even to himself.
"Yeah," he murmured. "See you."
She turned.
Her hand brushed the door.
But her feet... didn't move.
She stood there, back turned to him, quiet.
Seconds passed. Then more.
Still, she didn't step forward.
Didn't walk down the stairs.
Didn't leave.
It was like her whole body suddenly turned to stone—no, not stone.
Gravity.
Like she was made of it, and it refused to let her go.
And Jungkook saw it.
He saw the way her shoulders rose a little higher, how her fingers clutched her bag just a little tighter, how the soft curve of her back curved inward—like her heart had caved in on itself.
She was hesitating.
She didn't want to go.
He didn't even realize he'd moved until he was already at her side. His fingers gently, almost reverently, reached for her face. Not demanding, not urgent. Just asking.
His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her skin—warm, soft, trembling just the tiniest bit.
"Ivory..." he whispered.
She turned slowly to face him.
Eyes glassy. Lips parted.
Like she wanted to say something but forgot how.
Their foreheads nearly touched. Breath mingled in the narrow space between them.
"You hesitated," he said gently. "You were gonna leave."
She blinked. Once.
And that was all it took.
He leaned in just a little closer, his other hand finding her waist, grounding her.
"Don't go yet," he murmured. "Not if part of you wants to stay."
She exhaled like she'd been holding her breath for hours.
And before she could even say a word, her bag dropped to the floor with a soft thud.
And his lips met hers—not in a rush, not in desperation.
But in that quiet, aching sort of way you kiss someone when you've both been carrying too much, and the only way to stop the ache is to give in.
The kiss deepened, ivory latching her hands to his neck as Jungkook led the way to his bedroom. But before he could do another step forward in their heated moment, he pulled away, and looked at her again.
Mentally asking for permission. He didn't need to vocal his mind by the way his face look, she could read his face obviously. Her eyes screaming—yes.
There—
Their clothes had claimed every surface of the bedroom like scattered petals. A trail of want and whispers. The air was thick with the weight of everything unspoken.
Beneath tangled sheets, her skin was warm against his, soft and trembling beneath his touch. His lips brushed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Then lower—to the crook of her neck where her pulse fluttered. Her collarbones, where he pressed kisses like silent confessions.
Her fingers found the dip of his back, pulling him closer. Needing him closer.
His hands roamed—gentle, reverent, like he was learning a language only she could teach.
"Jake," she whispered, barely audible, a breath caught between disbelief and desire.
His forehead met hers. Their breaths synced—hot and shallow, mingling in the quiet between heartbeats.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough, aching with restraint.
Ivory's hand cupped his jaw. Her answer was in the way she looked at him, in the way she pulled him in, lips parted in surrender.
She wasn't asking him to stop.
She was asking him to stay.
Then—
JungKook stilled.
His breath caught somewhere between her lips and her skin, heart thudding against hers like a silent alarm. He blinked, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes.
"Ivory..." he murmured, voice low but careful. "Are you...?"
Her eyes flickered—hesitant, but not afraid. She nodded once, barely perceptible, her breath trembling against his jaw. "Yeah."
Silence laced the air, but not awkward. Heavy. Meaningful.
He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. His hands, once wandering, now gripped the sheets beside her as if anchoring himself.
"You should've told me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "I would've slowed down."
She exhaled a small laugh, brushing her fingers through his hair. "You're already the slowest fast person I know."
That made him smile.
But the next few moments—those were different.
He moved with reverence, every touch patient. Every kiss meant to calm, to worship, to tell her silently that she could stop him at any moment. His hands gripped her hips gently, letting her adjust, letting her breathe.
And then—
She arched into him, whispering, "I want this. I want you."
His resolve frayed at the edges.
When he entered her, he did so slowly, carefully, like she was the only thing that existed. He felt her tense—just a flicker—and he paused, brushing her hair from her face, grounding her with kisses and soft murmurs only she could hear.
"You're okay," he whispered. "I've got you."
She nodded, lips parted, clinging to his shoulders.
"Tell me if anything feels wrong, okay?" he whispered against her collarbone, the tips of his fingers grazing over her sides. She nodded, exhaling a shaky laugh.
"If I combust from overload, is that a bad sign?"
He grinned, burying a laugh against her neck.
"Only if you burst into actual flames. Then we'll pause for safety reasons."
Their laughter tangled between kisses, easing nerves and softening the edge of something new.
He moved—first like the ocean kisses the shore, soft and unhurried. But she met him, lifted to meet his rhythm, and the softness began to melt into heat. She gasped when he changed angle, when his name slipped from her mouth like a prayer.
That lit something in him.
"Say it again," he breathed against her skin.
"Jake," she moaned, breathless.
He groaned, his control unraveling with every sound she made.
The room burned with them. The ache. The tension. The need. Her hands on his back, his lips trailing down her throat, her legs wrapped around him like she couldn't bear to let go.
She was everything.
And he made sure she knew it.
Afterward, she lay on her side, head tucked under his chin, chest rising and falling in sync with his.
Jake was tracing slow circles on her back with the pads of his fingers, like he didn't want to stop touching her even for a second.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
Ivory nodded against him, her fingers grazing across his ribs. "Yeah."
"You sure?" he tilted his head down, trying to read her expression in the low light.
She met his gaze with a sleepy smile, vulnerable but grounded. "I wouldn't have let you if I wasn't."
A pause.
"Jake," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "I've never really been sure of many things. I tend to jump, fake confidence, charm my way through uncertainty. But... you?" She looked up, brushing her thumb against his jaw. "You're the one thing I've been certain of in a long time."
Something warm bloomed in his chest, and for a second he didn't know what to do with the emotion swelling in his throat.
"I'm not experienced," she added, shy now. "At all. And I probably messed something up—"
"You didn't." He cut in quickly, gently. "You didn't mess anything up. Ivory..." His voice cracked, just a little. "Thank you. For trusting me. With that. With you."
She smiled again, smaller this time. Her hand found his, threading their fingers together beneath the covers.
"I wanted it to be you," she said, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. "It was always going to be you."
He kissed her then—soft and slow, like a promise.
Neither of them said much more after that. They didn't need to.
They just held each other, breathing in sync, drifting into sleep—entwined in a moment that didn't need defining.
Jake's phone vibrated, waking Ivory but then wincing as she turned. "I think the thing between me broke."
Jake chuckled into her hair. "I'll carry you to breakfast."
"That's hot," she whispered, making him laugh again.
Silence settled between them—comfortable, warm. Then she asked, voice quieter now, "Did it feel... different? To you?"
Jake took a beat before answering. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Yeah. It felt like something I'll never forget."
She squeezed his hand under the sheets. "Same."
"Sleep more, it's still too early."
They stayed tangled like that, in skin and quiet confessions, until sleep finally took her. Jake, still awake, watched the way her breath evened out, the way her lashes fluttered softly against her cheek.
And just before closing his own eyes, he whispered into the dark, "Please don't forget me."
*
*
*