╰┈➤ Memory Loss / Amnesia/전정국

The sprawling city lights outside the floor-to-ceiling glass of the penthouse cast a cold, muted glow across the dark room. Jungkook stood motionless by the window, the heavy crystal tumbler of whiskey gripped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were stark white. He had already torn off his suit jacket hours ago, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal the heavy, dark tattoos stretching up his muscular forearms—forearms that used to pull you close, hold you tight, and map every inch of your skin in the dark.

The moment the private elevator chimed and the soft sound of your footsteps echoed into his office, every muscle in his body locked up. He didn't turn around. He didn't have to. Even after the crash, even with a massive chunk of his memory wiped clean by a cruel twist of fate, his body remembered the exact frequency of your presence. It hit him like a physical blow—a sudden, suffocating rush of heat and a sharp, sickening twist in his gut that he hated with every fiber of his being.

He slammed the glass down onto the marble sill with a sharp, echoing crack, spinning around so fast the air pressure shifted. His dark eyes—bloodshot, furious, and burning with an agonizing mix of rage and raw, terrifying confusion—locked onto you instantly.

In two long, predatory strides he crossed the distance, his towering frame backing you up against the nearest wall before you could even draw a full breath. His broad chest pressed flush against yours, trapping you completely. The sheer heat radiating off him was almost overwhelming, wrapped in the expensive scent of his cologne and raw, unfiltered masculine frustration.

— "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" — his voice was a low, jagged hiss, vibrating with a lethal kind of tension that felt like a coiled spring ready to snap. — "How many times do I have to tell you to stay the fuck away from me? How many times do I have to have security drag you out before it through that thick skull of yours that I don't know who the hell you are?!"

He let out a harsh, broken laugh, leaning in so close that his chest heaved against yours with every ragged breath. His gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second—a hungry, unconscious reflex—before snapping violently back to your eyes, furious at himself for even looking.

— "Every single day, people look at me with pity in their eyes, talking about a life I lived, a person I loved, a history that feels like a sick joke written about a stranger. But when you walk in here... looking at me like that, speaking my name like you own a piece of my soul..." — his voice cracked slightly, betraying a deep, agonizing vulnerability beneath the hostility. — "It makes me want to rip my own hair out, because my head is just a blank, black void. There is nothing there. Just a goddamn static mess that hurts like hell."

With a rough, trembling hand, his fingers darted out and clamped tightly around your chin, his grip firm enough to sting, forcing your face up so you had nowhere to run. His thumb grazed your lower lip with a sudden, aching gentleness that completely contradicted the pure danger in his dark eyes.

— "You stand there crying, looking at me like I'm the monster who abandoned you, when I can't even remember the sound of your laugh," — he whispered, his face hovering mere inches from yours, his hot breath brushing against your skin, heavy with dark, intoxicating chemistry. — "Part of me wants to ruin you, to scream at you until my throat bleeds for doing this to my head. But the other part... the part of me that is screaming even louder underneath all this anger..."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours, tasting the edge of your mouth with a desperate, hungry shiver before pulling back just enough to look deep into your eyes, his chest rising and falling wildly.

— "The other part wants to back you against this wall and fuck you until you can't even remember your own name, just to see if my body remembers what my broken brain refuses to. So, if you're going to stand here and keep playing with fire... prove it. Give me one single thing right now that shatters this fucking fog in my head, or I swear to God, I'm going to lock the door and finish what we started."