Jungkook's outfit:

The wind carried a faint melody of the ocean as Jungkook stepped off the bus and into the heart of Jeju Island. The salty air and sunlit streets welcomed him with a peace he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time since his military service, he wasn’t Jungkook, the idol, the heartthrob, or the global superstar. He was just... a man looking for something he couldn’t quite name.

The noise of the outside world seemed miles away here, swallowed by the rhythmic crash of the waves and the chirping of distant birds. Jeju Island felt like a haven, far removed from the constant attention and pressure of his life as a member of BTS. The city, with its flashing lights and screaming crowds, seemed a distant memory.

As he wandered aimlessly, his boots crunching against the gravel road, a small, weathered café caught his eye. A hand-painted sign above the door read “Sea & Soul” in bold, artistic letters, and the faint sound of an acoustic guitar hummed through the air. He had been craving solitude ever since he’d returned from the army, desperate for a place where he could escape from the world that always seemed to be watching him.

Cafe:

Drawn by the name—and the promise of peace—he pushed open the door, a bell above jingling softly as he entered. Inside, the air was warm, smelling of freshly brewed coffee and the sweet tang of paint. The walls were lined with vibrant paintings of Jeju’s beaches and sunsets, each more mesmerizing than the last. The small space was filled with the soft hum of ambient music and the quiet rustle of brushes against canvas.

Behind the counter stood a woman, completely absorbed in her work. Her back was to him as she added delicate details to a painting, her brow furrowed in concentration. A smear of orange paint streaked across her cheek, but she seemed unaware of it. Her movements were fluid, graceful—like someone lost in their own world, painting her dreams into reality.

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t seen anyone this unbothered by his presence in years. It was refreshing. He walked further into the café, glancing at the artwork that covered every inch of the walls. It was clear that the woman wasn’t just a barista—she was an artist, too

Y/N's outfit:

“Excuse me,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the calm silence.

The woman turned abruptly, startled. Her eyes widened for a moment as they met his, and then she quickly regained her composure. Jungkook saw a flicker of recognition in her gaze, but there was no wide-eyed gasp, no frantic reaching for her phone. Just curiosity.

“What can I get you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the momentary pause.

Jungkook chuckled softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Surprise me,” he replied, his voice low and warm.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, clearly assessing his playful tone. But without missing a beat, she moved to prepare his order. Jungkook watched her hands—slightly smudged with paint—work with precision as she poured the coffee. There was something undeniably captivating about the way she moved.

She placed the coffee in front of him with a smile. “Here you go. One black coffee, just as you asked.”

Jungkook took a sip, savoring the rich, bold taste. “This is perfect,” he said, his eyes meeting hers again.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just coffee.”

“Not just coffee,” he replied, glancing around the café. “This place... it’s special. Your artwork—it’s amazing.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, and she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Thanks. I’m trying to finish this painting for an exhibit next week. It’s been a long process.”

Jungkook nodded, impressed by her quiet dedication. “Do you sell your paintings?”

“Sometimes,” she replied, “but mostly, I just create for myself. It helps me keep my sanity.”

Jungkook’s smile deepened. “I get that.”

There was a moment of quiet as they exchanged a glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. He didn’t know why, but something about her made him feel... grounded.

Before either of them could say anything more, the door swung open, letting in a burst of cold air and a group of loud tourists. Jungkook, sensing the opportunity to leave before the attention grew overwhelming, pushed back his chair.

“Hey!” Y/N called out after him, “Don’t forget your change!”

Jungkook paused, his fingers brushing the door handle. He glanced back at her, his smile widening. “Keep it,” he said, his tone playful. “Consider it support for the arts.”

Y/N frowned, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she watched him leave. He hadn’t even given his name—yet there was something about him that made her feel like she already knew him. A sense of familiarity that she couldn’t explain.

Meanwhile, Jungkook stepped outside and took a deep breath of the crisp sea air, the taste of coffee still lingering on his tongue. He walked down the quiet street, glancing back over his shoulder at the café one last time. For the first time in years, he felt like he’d found a place he could be himself—no cameras, no pressure, just a moment of peace.

As the day slowly faded into evening, a spark of something unfamiliar—something exciting—bloomed in his chest.

Fate had a way of pulling people together, and this encounter felt like the start of something... unforgettable.

The early morning light filtered through the large windows of Y/N's seaside café, casting a golden glow over the mismatched tables and chairs. Y/N hummed softly to herself, painting the final strokes on a canvas that had consumed her thoughts for weeks. It was her favorite time of day-before the tourists flooded in, before life felt too chaotic.

The doorbell jingled, signaling the arrival of her first customer. She glanced up briefly, offering a polite smile before returning her focus to the waves on her canvas. "Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute," she said without looking.

"Uh... sure," a deep voice replied, laced with hesitation.

Jungkook stood awkwardly in the doorway, dressed in a simple black hoodie and jeans, a bucket hat pulled low over his face. It had been months since he'd been in a public place without security or a disguise. The anonymity was freeing, but it also made him nervous. As his gaze wandered, it landed on the woman at the counter. Her brow furrowed in concentration, lips slightly pursed as she worked.

She was beautiful. But it wasn't just her looks-it was the way she seemed so lost in her world, completely unaware of the chaos he'd left behind in Seoul.

Jungkook walked closer, his attention shifting to the canvas. He leaned in for a better view, not realizing how close his shoulder was to the wet paint.

"Wait-don't-!" Y/N's warning came too late.

The edge of Jungkook's sleeve smeared across the still-drying paint, leaving a jagged streak across the tranquil waves she'd painstakingly created. Y/N's heart sank as she stared at the ruined piece.

"Oh no," Jungkook muttered, pulling back instantly. "I didn't mean to-"

"Do you have any idea how long that took me?" Y/N snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through his apology. She turned to face him fully for the first time, her hands clenched into fists.

Jungkook froze under her glare. Most people would have recognized him by now-apologized profusely or begged for a selfie. But this woman? She didn't seem to care who he was, only that he'd just ruined her hard work.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice sincere. "I'll pay for it. Name your price."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Do I look like someone who paints for money? It's not about the price. It's about respect."

Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N held up a hand. "Forget it. Just... sit down and order something. And keep your arms far away from anything breakable."

She stormed off to the kitchen, leaving Jungkook standing there like a scolded child. For a moment, he considered leaving-this was far from the peaceful escape he'd envisioned. But something about Y/N intrigued him.

When she returned with a coffee for him, her irritation hadn't completely faded. "So, what brings you here? Most tourists stick to the bigger cafés in the city."

"I needed a break," Jungkook admitted, stirring his coffee. "Somewhere quiet."

Y/N studied him carefully. "You're not from here, are you?"

"No," he said, his lips twitching into a small smile. "And you?"

"Born and raised," she replied. "Unlike you, I don't have the luxury of running away when life gets hard."

Her words stung, though she didn't mean them maliciously. Jungkook wanted to explain, but how could he, without revealing who he was?

The conversation drifted into silence, each lost in their thoughts. Y/N glanced at him, curious but guarded. Who was this mysterious man who spoke as if the world weighed heavily on his shoulders?

As Jungkook left the café that day, he couldn't shake the memory of her fiery eyes and sharp words. And as Y/N cleaned up for the night, she couldn't help but wonder why his presence lingered in her mind.

What secrets was he hiding?

And why did she feel like her quiet life was about to change forever?

The morning sun filtered through the café’s large windows, bathing everything in a golden glow. Y/N was busy arranging freshly baked pastries in the display case when the bell above the door jingled. She looked up, expecting another local, but it was him—Jungkook. Again.

“Morning,” he said with a small smile, his voice warm yet unsure.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have… I don’t know, anywhere else to be?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, his signature bunny smile creeping onto his face. “I liked the coffee yesterday. Thought I’d come back for more.”

Y/N frowned, suspicious of his sudden interest in her café. She glanced at the table where he had spilled coffee on her sketchpad just a day ago. The memory of their awkward encounter was still fresh, but there was something about him she couldn’t quite figure out.

Reluctantly, she grabbed a cup and poured his coffee. “Fine, but don’t break anything this time.”

As Jungkook sat down, he glanced around the café, his gaze lingering on the paintings hanging on the walls. They were all Y/N’s work—vivid landscapes, melancholic portraits, and abstract depictions of emotions that seemed too complex to describe in words.

“These are yours, aren’t they?” he asked, pointing to a painting of a lone figure standing in the rain.

Y/N froze for a moment, surprised by the question. “Yeah,” she admitted, her tone softening. “Why?”

“They’re… different. Honest. Like they tell a story.” He tilted his head, studying the painting. “What’s this one about?”

Y/N hesitated. She wasn’t used to talking about her art with strangers, let alone someone as enigmatic as Jungkook. “It’s about waiting,” she said finally. “For something you’re not sure will ever come. Kind of like standing in the rain, hoping for the sun.”

Jungkook nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I know that feeling.”

For a moment, they both fell silent, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air. Y/N found herself studying him, noticing the faint shadow of tiredness beneath his eyes, the way he carried himself like someone who’d seen too much yet said too little.

“Who are you, really?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Jungkook looked startled, then laughed nervously. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not a tourist, and you’re definitely not just here for the coffee,” she said, crossing her arms. “So, why do you keep coming back?”

He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. Y/N’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce right through him. For a moment, he considered telling her the truth, but something held him back. Would she treat him differently if she knew? Would the quiet peace of this little café be shattered?

“I like the atmosphere,” he said finally, avoiding her eyes. “And… your art. It feels real.”

Y/N studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she shrugged, deciding not to press further. “Suit yourself,” she said, turning back to her work.

But even as she busied herself behind the counter, her thoughts lingered on him. There was something about Jungkook—something hidden beneath the surface. Who was this man who seemed both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time?

As Jungkook sipped his coffee, he stole glances at Y/N, wondering if she would ever look at him the same way once she knew who he really was.

And then, the door jingled again. A group of teenagers walked in, their excited whispers filling the air. One of them froze, her eyes widening as she stared at Jungkook.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, clutching her friend’s arm. “Is that… Jungkook? From BTS?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her heart skipping a beat. Her eyes darted to Jungkook, who suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Was this a joke? A misunderstanding? Or was the quiet, mysterious man sitting in her café truly one of the most famous faces in the world?

Y/N’s mind raced with questions, but she said nothing, her gaze locked on Jungkook as the realization began to dawn on her.

Jungkook met her eyes, his expression unreadable. “I can explain,” he said quietly.

But could he?

Would Y/N trust him after this revelation? Or would the truth push them apart before they even began?