They ate in a pocket of warmth—Sera speaking, Jungkook mostly listening, memorizing.

He noted the way she twirled her fork, how she leaned in a little when excited, how she barely drank her wine. His heart pounded each time her hand brushed the table’s edge closer to his.

Then, casually—like throwing a pebble into a lake—Sera said:

“ You know ethan loves music just like you. But he is like music is his first priority ofcourse after being your die heart fan . Wherever he practice he became like a Strickt dad  never let me come near him during his sessions. I’ve always wondered how it feels to be in a music studio… like, the real ones. To see how singers actually bring songs to life. It must be magical.”

Her words landed like a bolt of electricity through Jungkook’s spine. He straightened up slightly, his eyes widening a fraction.

Magical? You want to see it?

He smiled, but there was a fire behind his gaze now.

“Then come. I’ll show you. This Sunday. My personal studio.”

Sera blinked, the fork in her hand frozen.

“What? No—Jungkook, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why not?”

he leaned in, elbows on the table now, voice softer but persistent.

“You just said you want to see how it’s done. I can give you that. Not many people get to walk into my space like that. But you? I want to show you.”

She hesitated, visibly uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to intrude or make it awkward…”

He smiled slowly, leaning back, resting his arms on his seat.

“You won’t. And you wouldn’t be intruding—you’d be… inspiring.”

He said it with such sincerity, Sera looked away.

Still unsure, she murmured,

“I don’t know… I’m not sure if I should—”

And then Jungkook played his card—his voice dropping, his tone softening, like a friend laying his heart bare.

“Sera…” he paused, placing a hand over his chest,

“If you don’t come, I’ll genuinely be sad. It’s not just about the studio. It’s you. I’d… like to share this with someone. I don’t get to do that much.”

She looked up at him. Her brows furrowed slightly at his sudden sincerity.

He pressed on, gently but firmly.

“I’ve considered you a friend, even if it’s one-sided. And if we’re friends, can’t I show you something that’s important to me?”

Sera’s lips parted, caught off guard by the honesty in his eyes. She could feel the sincerity, but something more lingered—an intensity she couldn’t name.

She finally sighed.

“Okay… okay. Just for a little while. But I can’t promise I’ll stay long.”

Jungkook smiled, triumphant but subtle. He didn’t need long—he just needed her to come.

He slipped a sleek black card across the table with an address in gold letters embossed on it.

“Sunday, 2 PM. I’ll be waiting.”

He gave a playful pout. “Don’t ghost me. It’ll break my heart.”

She gave a tiny laugh, shaking her head. “You’re dramatic.”

He leaned closer, smirking.

“Only when it comes to you.”

---

Jungkook watched her the rest of the dinner like she was the only woman in the world.

And inside—beneath his calm exterior—his obsession twisted deeper.

She wanted to see his studio? That meant she wanted to know more.

That meant… he could bring her closer.

And once she steps into his world, she won’t be able to leave so easily.

-

---

It was Sunday afternoon, but to Jungkook, it felt like the most important day of the year. From the moment he woke up, a restless kind of energy buzzed through his veins. His private studio—usually a place of chaos, creativity, and solitude—had been transformed. He spent hours cleaning every surface, arranging scattered notes and cables with meticulous care. The glass panels gleamed, the velvet couch was vacuumed twice, and the recording booth was spotless. He sprayed subtle room freshener—sandalwood and vanilla—wanting the space to smell warm, inviting… intoxicating. A few small candles lined the console desk, flickering softly in the dim lighting, casting golden hues across the room. He adjusted the lighting too—soft and low, just enough to feel cozy but not overwhelming.

Every few minutes, he checked the clock. Then checked his phone. Then glanced at the door as if she might walk in early. He wasn’t just waiting—he was yearning. His hands drummed against the leather armrest of the chair, his mind rehearsing what he’d say, how he’d show her the magic of music, and how he’d try—just try—to get a little closer to her today. Every wire, every candle, every second of waiting was just for her.

And if she didn’t come…

He didn’t even let himself think that far.

---

The cab rolled to a stop in front of the grand entrance, tucked behind layers of glass walls and tall hedges that screamed privacy and luxury. Sera stepped out slowly, clutching the strap of her beige sling bag, her fingers slightly trembling—not from fear, but from a nervous flutter that refused to settle in her chest. She had dressed modestly, but charmingly—a light yellow one-piece dress that flowed just past her knees, paired with white flats. The color brought out the golden warmth of her skin, the soft glow in her cheeks. Her hair was loosely tied, strands falling gently over her forehead as she looked up at the building before her, biting her lower lip.

She had almost canceled. Twice. But something in Jungkook’s voice last night—his insistence, his boyish hope—that heartbreaking little line: “I’ll be waiting…”—had weakened her defenses. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. Maybe it was.

The security guard at the gate straightened up the moment he saw her.

“Miss Serena, right? You may go in. We’ve been told to expect you,”

he said with a small smile as he opened the gate for her.

She blinked, a little surprised, then gave a small nod and walked inside. The inside lobby of the studio was sleek, modern, with art-lined walls and subtle background music humming through invisible speakers. A polite young staff member approached her and asked her to wait in the lounge.

“Sir is upstairs, he’ll be down in a moment.”

As Sera sat down, her eyes roamed over the place—keyboard setups behind glass, a wall covered in autographed vinyls, sound panels lined like art. The whole place smelled of lavender and something musky, earthy. Everything felt like him—disciplined chaos veiled under warmth.

Unable to sit still, she eventually stood and wandered toward a glossy black grand piano that stood at the edge of the lounge space, half bathed in afternoon sunlight. Her fingers hovered over the keys, not pressing, just… feeling the energy of the place.

Upstairs, Jungkook was pacing—his pulse loud, like a ticking bomb in his ears. When he got the call from staff that she's here, he practically bolted out of the room. He didn't even fix his hair. His breath hitched the moment his eyes landed on her—there she was, standing with her back to him near the piano, bathed in sunlight like a scene from a lucid dream.

And for a terrifying second… he was dragged back into that hallucination.

The one where she’d seduced him right on the piano.

Her moans. His desperation. Her skin under his hands. The way she whispered his name like a prayer.

His throat went dry. His eyes darkened.

But no, this was real. She was real. She was here, and yet so far.

He took a deep breath and walked toward her, trying to steady himself.

“Sera,”

his voice came out softer than he intended, husky and awed. She turned, a bit startled, her lips parting in that familiar shy smile of hers.

“You came,”

he added, stepping closer, unable to hide the way his lips curled up in something more than just joy—it was pure relief.

“I said I would,”

she said gently, tilting her head.

“But this place is… wow. It’s more than I imagined.”

“I’m glad,”

he said, swallowing hard.

“I wanted you to see the real side of what I do… not the stage, not the lights… just this. Just me.”

She nodded, eyes shining with genuine curiosity as she looked around.

“I can feel the passion here… it’s like the walls are humming.”

He chuckled lowly.

“They’re probably tired of my voice.”

She laughed, and the sound eased something sharp in his chest. He motioned toward the inside door leading to the main studio.

“Come on,” he said,

“Let me show you where the real magic happens.”

As they walked side by side, his gaze flickered to her hand swinging gently by her side, so close to his. He didn’t reach out. Not yet.

But god—he wanted to.

---

Jungkook pushed open the heavy acoustic door to his main studio, and instantly, the ambiance shifted. It was dimly lit, cozy, yet soaked in a kind of intimacy only music could create. There were layers of soundboards, instruments lined neatly, glowing monitors, and walls padded to trap every sound, every secret.

And right then, he gently took Sera’s hand.

“Come on,”

he said with a boyish grin, the excitement unmistakable in his voice.

“Let me give you the grand tour.”

Sera’s heart gave a small jolt at the unexpected contact, but she didn’t pull back. His hand was warm—steady, but oddly comforting. She let him lead her as he started showing her every corner like a child proudly showing off his favorite toys.

“That’s the vocal booth,”

he pointed.

“Where I scream my lungs out till the staff threatens to quit. And over there,”

he turned her toward a setup of keys and pads,

“is where the magic starts. That tiny thing,” he gestured toward a MIDI keyboard,

“is the real hero of half my heartbreak songs.”

Sera chuckled at his infectious energy.

“You’re like a kid in a candy store,” she teased.

“Exactly!” he grinned, clearly enjoying her presence. “This place is my candy store.”

Then he pulled her gently toward the corner where a set of drums stood on a platform.

“Ever tried drums?”

he asked, already picking up the sticks.

Sera shook her head.

“Never. I can’t even clap on beat.”

“Lies. You were perfectly on beat during that day dancing with kids”

he said, raising a brow.

Sera’s lips parted in mock surprise.

“You noticed?”

He just smirked, not answering.

“Here,” he said, handing her the sticks and stepping behind her.

“Let me show you.”

Her breath caught a little as his hands briefly covered hers, positioning her grip.

“Like this,” he murmured. “Now hit it. Lightly.”

She did, and the soft thump echoed in the quiet space.

“Okay, now harder.”

She struck it with more force, and the sound vibrated. She giggled.

“There you go,” he beamed. “You’re a natural.”

“Please,” she laughed.

“I just managed not to poke my eye out.”

Next, he moved to the guitar, strumming casually and pulling up a stool.

“Okay, now sit,” he said.

“This one’s on me.”

Sera blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You said you’ve never seen a song being created,”

he replied with a soft smile.

“So let me give you a mini concert. Private. Just for you.”

She shook her head in disbelief as he started strumming, humming first, then letting his deep voice fill the room. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t overly polished. It was raw. And somehow, even more beautiful than any of his big-stage performances. Because this one—this one held no masks.

Sera sat there, arms folded over her knees, head tilted as she watched him. Her heart was oddly full, warmed by his sincerity.

When he finished, she softly clapped, cheeks glowing.

“Wow…” she whispered.

“I never imagined one day I’d be sitting in a studio while Jeon Jungkook gives me a personal performance. If I told my friends this, they’d laugh me out of the group chat.”

Jungkook laughed at that, putting the guitar down.

“Well, tell them anyway. Let them be jealous.”

She snorted.

“They’ll think I’m hallucinating.”

“Then tell them the truth,”

he said, walking toward her with an easy smile.

“You were lucky enough to meet the cooler, more handsome version of Jeon Jungkook—the one who doesn’t bite and plays guitar for friends.”

She raised a brow playfully.

“Friends, huh?”

He nodded, his voice light.

“Of course. Friends  get free concerts. The rest? They have to buy tickets.”

She giggled again, shaking her head in disbelief, eyes bright.

“This is unreal.”

He tilted his head, gaze warm but teasing.

“Well, you better get used to it, Sera. This friendship… comes with a soundtrack.”

-

They sat side by side now, the soft glow of ambient lights casting golden hues across the sleek black surface of the piano. The mood had shifted—lighter yet layered with unspoken thoughts.

Jungkook turned slightly to face her.

“You know… I realized I know so little about you,”

he said, his tone softer now, like he didn’t want to scare the moment away.

“Tell me something real. Something about you, Sera.”

She blinked, surprised.

“Me?”

He nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, you know I sing for a living, write sad songs at 3 a.m., and drink way too much black coffee. But you? You’re a mystery.”

Sera smiled faintly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well… I’m just a simple girl, really. Grew up in a regular home. Dad’s strict, Mom’s sweet. I have an older brother who is annoying but loves me . I have a cute boyfriend who loves me so much. I'm a teacher and I love kids ..i love rainy days, hate bitter gourd, and… I don’t know, I guess I just want a quiet life.”

Jungkook’s eyes never left her. Every word she said etched itself into his memory—like he was storing data he’d revisit again and again. He noticed how her lips curled when she talked about her sister, how her voice dipped when she mentioned her father. He saw everything. Every detail.

“That doesn’t sound simple at all,” he murmured. “That sounds… perfect.”

Sera laughed, brushing off the compliment.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Beyond the music and fans and awards. What does Jeon Jungkook dream about?”

He leaned back slightly, gaze drifting to the ceiling before falling back on her.

“Music is my first love. That’ll never change. But lately…”

He paused, eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

“Lately I think I want something more. Like… a partner who feels like home. Someone calm. Warm. Not loud, not flashy. Just someone who makes breathing easier.”

His eyes lingered on her longer than necessary, his voice quiet, nearly a whisper.

“A woman who doesn’t chase the spotlight… but lights up every room she walks into.”

Sera shifted, caught off guard by the intensity in his tone. She laughed awkwardly.

“That’s oddly specific.”

Jungkook smiled slowly.

“I guess I’ve been thinking about it more than I thought.”

To cut the heat of the moment, he stood and clapped his hands once.

“Come on,” he said brightly.

“Time to teach you piano. You don’t get to leave without touching a single key.”

She groaned in protest.

“I’m hopeless at instruments.”

“I won’t let you be,” he grinned.

She hesitantly followed him to the grand piano. He patted the bench, and she sat down, placing her hands awkwardly on the keys. Jungkook moved behind her.

And then… without warning… he gently reached around her, his fingers wrapping softly around hers to position them correctly on the keys.

Sera’s breath caught in her throat.

Jungkook, standing behind her, was close. Too close.

He could smell the faint scent of vanilla from her hair. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second, overwhelmed. God, how does she smell this good? The curve of her neck was inches from his face, and the soft fabric of her dress brushed against his arm. His fingers lingered just a little too long on hers.

“Relax your hand,”

he murmured near her ear, his voice low, velvet-smooth.

He wanted to bury his face into her neck. He wanted to pull her back against him, to feel the warmth of her body, to hear her heartbeat and say nothing at all.

But he didn’t. He just watched—watched how unaware she was of the chaos she brought into him.

Then suddenly, Sera turned her head slightly, asking,

“Is this right?”

Their faces were so close—a breath away. Her eyes widened when she realized, and she immediately turned back forward, cheeks flushing.

Jungkook didn’t move.

He didn’t say anything either.

He simply stood there, watching her, his mind screaming with thoughts he couldn’t act on. His heart thudding.

“I-I think I got it now,”

she stammered, subtly scooting forward.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, forcing himself to step back and let the air return between them.

“Yeah,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. “You got it.”

And the music… for now… stayed silent.

As the clock neared evening, the visit came to its inevitable end. Sera glanced at the time and stood from the piano bench with a light sigh.

“I should probably go now… before it gets too late,” she said gently, her tone lingering with warmth.

Jungkook followed her, almost reluctantly.

“Let me walk you out.”

She smiled as they walked through the hallway—Jungkook beside her, watching her every step, every tiny sway of her dress, every delicate blink of her lashes. Just as she reached the front door, a staff member brought out a small, neatly wrapped box. Jungkook took it and handed it to her.

“I… got this for you,”

he said, almost shyly.

“I remembered you mentioned you love dark chocolate, so…”

Sera blinked, a bit surprised, her hands brushing his as she accepted the box.

“Oh… you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to,” he replied softly.

She smiled again, that same gentle curve of her lips that made Jungkook’s stomach tighten with need.

“Thank you, really. Today was… beautiful.”

She stepped out, waving him a final goodbye.

“Take care, Jungkook.”

He nodded, eyes fixed on her until the cab turned the corner and disappeared.

The second she was out of sight, the smile faded from Jungkook’s lips. The mask of calm fell away, replaced by something darker… hotter… hungrier.

He shut the studio door slowly, his chest heaving as he leaned his back against it. His hands clenched into fists as flashes of her came crashing into him—the way her soft dress clung to her curves when she leaned forward at the piano, the scent of her shampoo, the heat of her body when she turned to him.

His jaw tightened.

That backless dress. That smooth neck. Her fingers under mine. Her breath… so close to my mouth.

He stormed toward the room behind the sound booth, slamming the door shut behind him. It was dimly lit, silent except for the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Jungkook sat on the edge of the couch, chest rising rapidly. He buried his face in his hands, groaning.

She doesn’t even know what she does to me.

He ran his hand down his face, then lower—his body already reac

ting to the memory of her. His breath quickened, and he pressed his eyes shut, images of Sera swirling like fire in his mind. Her lips. Her eyes. That innocent laugh when he acted like an excited kid. The feel of her hand under his. Her warmth.

His body burned with need. She was right there. So close. So soft.

And yet… he couldn’t touch her.

He growled low, as if in pain, before he gave in—falling backward onto the couch, his mind consumed by only one thought:

Sera.