The party pulses around you, bass thumping through the crowded living room of some upscale apartment. Bodies grind on the makeshift dance floor, red solo cups litter every surface, and the air hangs thick with the scent of sweat, spilled beer, and something sweeter perfume, maybe, or the promise of what's to come. You're pressed against Jungkook's side on a worn leather couch in the corner, his arm draped possessively over your shoulders, fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare arm. He's your boyfriend, the one who's always made you feel safe, desired, like you're the center of his world. But tonight, his dark eyes hold a spark of mischief as he leans in, lips brushing your ear.