Meanwhile, across the misty streets, Jungkook was jogging toward a tiny roasted corn stand. The smoky aroma of freshly roasted kernels floated through the air, and he smiled to himself as he picked out a plump one — because he knew how much you loved roasted corn, especially when it was raining like this.

“Just a quick stop,” he promised himself. “Then I’ll run right back.”

But as he stepped off the curb, a small figure darted across the slick, rainy street. A boy — no more than five or six — chasing a paper boat that floated toward the middle of the road. In the same heartbeat, the screech of tires rang out.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“Hey! Watch out!” he yelled, dropping the roasted corn as he surged forward. In one swift motion, he scooped the child out of harm’s way, twisting his body to shield him. The sound of a horn blared like a warning, and then — bang!

The car clipped him hard enough to send him crashing to the wet asphalt. The boy tumbled from his arms but landed safely. Jungkook, however, felt a sharp sting explode across his shoulder and ribs as he slammed down, head making a sickening thud against the concrete.

Through the sound of the pouring rain and muffled shouts of bystanders, the world spun wildly. The roasted corn he had hoped to surprise you with rolled down the pavement and stopped in a shallow puddle.

Jungkook tried to push himself up, gritting his teeth, but the strength in his arms ebbed away. His vision blurred, and before he could call your name, darkness claimed him — right there in the pouring rain, an unexpected hero in a quiet, tragic moment.

And as the storm battered down, the boy he’d saved was pulled to safety, leaving Jungkook unconscious on the slick, empty road.

Jungkook’s lashes fluttered as the sting of antiseptic and the faint beeping of a monitor pulled him out of the dark. The world came into focus slowly — the harsh hospital ceiling lights, the tight sting of a bandage wrapped around his head and hand. He winced as he tried to sit up, brushing the fog from his thoughts.

Then it hit him. You.

He whipped his head to the side and spotted his phone resting on a steel table. In one motion he snatched it, unlocking the screen. His heart sank as he scrolled through the notifications. Missed calls. All from you. The timestamps lined up like a clock of heartbreak.

“Shit,” he rasped, brushing shaking fingers across the screen as he hit call.

It rang. Once, twice. No answer.

“Please pick up, baby… pick up,” he whispered desperately, pressing the phone tighter to his ear. Nothing.

With a grunt, he swung his legs over the bed. The room spun as pain surged down his side, but he refused to stay still. The doctor tried to block him at the door, voice rising in alarm.

“Sir, you can’t just get up, you have a concussion —”

But Jungkook shook him off, fumbling for his wallet. “I have to go. Please… I have to go.” The desperation in his voice silenced the room. He pressed a wad of cash down for the bill, nodding hastily, and was out of the door before anyone could stop him.

The taxi ride felt like an eternity. The sting in his ribs was a whisper compared to the terror rising in his chest. The whole way, he pressed the phone to his ear, calling and calling, listening to it ring endlessly, praying for the sound of your voice.

As the taxi pulled up in front of your house, he threw a handful of bills to the driver and bolted out, ignoring the ache in every step. The rain had stopped, but the air was damp, the silence too heavy. He didn’t hesitate — pressing the doorbell, knocking desperately.

“Please… be okay,” he rasped, voice shaking, brushing hair and raindrops from his bandaged forehead as he stood, breathless, at your door.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the pain. Not the hospital bed he’d left. Not the bandages burning across his skin. Only you. Always you.

To be continued...