Chapter Text
The Incheon International Airport arrival gate was a chaotic sea of flashing strobes and deafening screams. To anyone else, it was a terrifying wall of noise; to JK, it was just Tuesday.
Dressed in an oversized black hoodie with the hood pulled low and a mask covering the lower half of his face, the singer-turned-actor kept his head down. Security guards formed a human phalanx around him, shoving back the surging tide of fans holding signs, phones, and gifts.
"Keep moving, JK, don't stop," Minju, his manager, barked into his earpiece, his hand firm on JK's back, guiding him toward the waiting black van at the curb.
JK felt that familiar, hollow exhaustion settle in his bones. He had just spent two weeks in the US for a film premiere, shaking hands with people who didn't know his real name, only his brand. He just wanted to go home.
As the sliding door of the luxury van opened, the screaming intensified. JK climbed in, sinking into the leather seat. Just as the automatic door began to slide shut, a figure broke through the security line.
It was a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, but dressed in a worn denim jacket.
"Jungkook!"
The name cut through the noise. Not JK. Jungkook.
The man lunged toward the moving vehicle, his hand outstretched, desperate to bridge the gap. JK's eyes widened behind his bangs. He saw the desperation in the man's eyes—a familiar warmth that felt out of place in this cold chaos.
Thud.
The van had already begun to accelerate. The side mirror clipped the man's outstretched arm with a sickening dull impact.
"Stop!" JK shouted, instinctively reaching for the door handle. Through the tinted glass, he saw the man recoil, stumbling back. He didn't fall, but he crouched immediately, his face scrunching in pain as he clutched his right hand to his chest.
"Drive, keep driving!" Minju yelled at the driver, then looked back at JK. "Sit down, JK."
"Hyung, we hit him! Look at him!" JK argued, pressing his face to the glass. The man was still crouching on the asphalt, looking small and broken amidst the confused security guards.
Minju cursed under his breath. "Fine. Stay here. Do not open this door. If you go out there, it'll be a riot."
Minju opened the passenger door and hopped out, rushing over to the crouching figure. JK watched anxiously, straining to see.
Jin bit his lip so hard he tasted copper. His hand throbbed with a fiery, pulsing pain where the metal mirror had slammed into his knuckles. He felt like an idiot. He was a nobody waiter, a background extra, trying to touch a star.
"Hey. You okay?"
Jin looked up. It wasn't JK. It was the manager, looking more annoyed than concerned.
"I... I'm okay," Jin stammered, fighting back tears of pain and embarrassment. He stood up shakily, cradling his injured hand. "Please, don't worry. It was my fault. I got too close."
"Yeah, you did," Minju said sharply. "You could have caused a serious accident."
"I'm sorry," Jin whispered. He looked toward the blacked-out windows of the van. He knew Jungkook was in there. The boy he'd watched grow up on a pixelated Discord stream years ago. "I just... I wanted to wish him a safe travel home."
Jin fumbled with his good hand into his pocket and pulled out a simple, handmade bracelet. It was braided leather with a small, silver music note charm—cheap, but Jin had made it himself.
"Please," Jin said, his voice trembling. "I'm his biggest fan. Since the cover song days. Can you just give this to him?"
Minju looked at the cheap trinket with disdain but snatched it from Jin's hand to end the interaction. "Fine. Go home. Get some ice on that hand."
Without another word, the manager turned and jogged back to the van.
The van door slammed shut, sealing out the noise. The vehicle merged seamlessly into traffic.
"What happened? Is he hurt?" JK asked immediately, leaning forward.
Minju sighed, adjusting his suit jacket. "He's fine. Just a bruise. Nothing to worry about."
JK frowned, his eyes dropping to Minju's clenched fist. "What was that? I saw him give you something. What are you holding?"
Minju glanced at his hand, then shrugged dismissively. "It's nothing. Just something creeps give to actors. Probably has a tracker in it or something weird."
"Let me see—"
"Forget it, JK. Focus on your schedule for tomorrow." Minju opened the glove compartment, tossed the braided bracelet inside, and slammed it shut. The silver charm clinked against the plastic, a lonely sound in the quiet cabin.
JK stared at the glove compartment for a long moment, a heavy feeling settling in his gut. He wanted to argue, but the energy left him. He leaned back, closing his eyes.
Just a creep, he thought. But he called me Jungkook.
Two hours later, JK was alone in his penthouse condo.
It was suffocatingly large. The marble floors were cold, and the view of the Seoul skyline, which used to impress him, now just made him feel isolated. He tossed his bag onto the expensive sofa and walked to the bedroom, collapsing onto the king-sized mattress.
He stared at the ceiling.
"Jungkook," he whispered to the empty room.
He remembered the old days. The days before the stage name. Before the strict diets and the scripts. He remembered sitting in his cramped bedroom in Busan, singing covers into a cheap microphone, refreshing the page to see three or four people watching on Discord.
There was one user back then. WorldwideHandsome_J. He was always there. Requesting songs, cracking dad jokes in the chat, telling Jungkook he was going to be a star.
"I made it," JK murmured bitterly. "But it feels like I lost everything else."
He sighed heavily, the silence of the room pressing down on him. He needed noise. He needed connection. Not the screaming kind, but the kind that felt real.
He showered, washing off the airport grime, and changed into a simple white t-shirt. With wet hair and a fresh face, he sat at his kitchen island and propped his phone up against a fruit bowl.
Start Live.
The screen froze for a second, and then the numbers exploded. 10,000 viewers... 50,000 viewers... 200,000 viewers.
"Hey everyone," JK waved, forcing his signature bunny smile. "I'm home safely. Sorry for the lack of updates."
The chat moved so fast it was a blur of neon text. OPPA ARE YOU OKAY? YOU LOOK TIRED. DID YOU SEE THE NEWS? LOVE YOU JK!
"I'm okay," he said softly, reading the few comments he could catch. "The trip was good. The movie is going to be great. But I missed... I missed just singing."
He hummed a few bars of an old ballad, closing his eyes. When he opened them, the sadness was creeping back in. He felt like he was performing, even now.
Suddenly, a comment caught his eye. The username was strange, but the text stayed on the screen just long enough for him to read it.
Jungkooksman: Are you wearing the bracelet? I hope the manager gave it to you.
JK paused. The bracelet. The "creep" at the airport.
Then, another comment from the same user popped up, seemingly bypassing the flood of other messages.
Jungkooksman: Jungkook, I was the one in the airport earlier. I'm sorry if I scared you. You're so handsome! I really am your biggest fan.
JK's heart hammered against his ribs. He leaned closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing.
"Airport..." JK muttered, forgetting he was live. "The guy with the hurt hand?"
He looked off-camera toward his bag, thinking about the glove compartment in the van downstairs. He looked back at the camera, his gaze intense, stripping away the celebrity persona for just a second.
"Wait," JK said, his voice dropping an octave. "You're watching?"