Jungkook leans against the kitchen counter, a half-empty bottle of Cass dangling from his fingers. His eyes keep drifting to the doorway. Every time someone walks through it, his chest tightens. Every time it's not you, something cold settles deeper in his stomach.

Thirty minutes pass. The party swells and contracts around him. People laugh. A couple starts making out against the fridge. Jungkook finishes his cigarette, lights another.

Then he hears it.

That's your voice.

And you're not alone.