You don’t remember falling asleep.

But when your eyes opened, the light outside had faded into twilight, and the air in the room felt… still. Too still.

You were alone in bed. The sheets still smelled like him. A mix of leather, smoke, and something darker. Something that clung to your skin.

“Jungkook?” you called softly, heart skipping.

No answer.

You sat up, pulling the blanket around your chest, head spinning with everything that had happened. The kisses. The confessions. The way his hands made you forget who you were.

The way he said someone disappeared.

Your heart thudded violently.

You scrambled from the bed, stepping over scattered clothes and searching for your phone—gone. Of course it was. He wouldn’t leave something so obvious.

But he did leave the door unlocked.

You cracked it open and peeked into the hall. The silence was loud.

Then—

“You’re awake.”

You jumped, heart stopping. Jungkook stood by the window, shadows cast across his bare chest, eyes locked on you like a predator who knew you’d try to run.

“I didn’t—” you started.

He took a step forward.

“I wasn’t going to leave,” you said quickly. “I just—needed air.”

“You don’t need air.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “You need me.”

You swallowed hard. “You can’t keep me here.”

“I already am.”

“I’ll scream.”

“No one would hear you.” He smiled, and it didn’t reach his eyes. “I made sure.”

Your knees buckled slightly. The room suddenly felt smaller.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

He stared at you a long moment, then walked past you, into the bedroom. You followed, trembling.

He sat on the bed, legs spread, forearms resting on his thighs. When he looked up at you, the storm in his gaze had softened… but it was still there.

“I waited for you,” he said. “All that time. I thought if I left, you’d miss me. Come find me. But you didn’t.”

“I thought you were gone.”

“I was.” He looked down at his hands. “Until I saw you with him.”

You didn’t have to ask who. You knew.

“I snapped,” he admitted. “I followed him after you left. Just to scare him, at first.”

Your throat tightened.

“But he laughed,” Jungkook said quietly. “Said you weren’t even that special. Just a fling. Said he’d do it again.”

He looked up. “So I made sure he wouldn’t.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. “Jungkook…”

He stood slowly.

“I don’t regret it,” he said. “Because he touched what’s mine.”

“I’m not—”

“You are!” he roared, slamming his hand against the wall. “You are mine!”

Tears welled in your eyes. But something inside you didn’t scream. Didn’t fight. It trembled… and leaned in.

“You’re sick,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“You’re dangerous.”

He stepped close, cupping your face with terrifying tenderness.

“I’d burn the world for you.”

His lips brushed yours—soft, reverent.

“I already did.”

And somehow, against all reason, all logic…

You let him kiss you.

---

That night, he didn’t touch you like before.

He worshipped.

Every kiss was a vow. Every touch a promise. He whispered your name like a prayer, like it was both his salvation and his damnation.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he breathed as he slid down your body, mouth tasting your skin like a man dying of thirst. “Not after this.”

You moaned his name, hands tangling in his hair.

There was no escape.

Because you weren’t trying to run anymore.

You were pulling him closer.

---

In the days that followed, you didn’t leave the apartment. He brought you food. Clothes. Flowers. Locked every door and window. Hid the knives. The phones. Everything.

And yet…

Each night, you crawled into bed with him willingly.

Each morning, you woke in his arms.

Stockholm syndrome? Maybe.

Or maybe… this was something deeper.

Darker.

Because when he kissed your neck and whispered, “Mine,” you didn’t flinch.

You smiled.

---

EPILOGUE

They searched for you. Put up posters. Investigated the café boy’s disappearance.

But they never found him.

And as for you?

You were never really lost.

Just… taken.

And now, as Jungkook wraps his arms around you on the couch, stroking your hair like a prize he’d kill for again—you realize something horrifying.

You don’t miss your old life.

You don’t miss the noise. The uncertainty. The loneliness.

You only crave the quiet madness of his love.

Because in his darkness… you finally feel seen.

Because even if jealousy tastes like blood—

His lips still taste like home.

---

END

Thank you for reading And make sure to follow me on wattapd for daily updates @kookie__milk__

From —

Author Mrinal 🌸 🎀 ✨️