SURPRISE!!!!! Hehehe you know I couldn't just let the story end like that (although I can't say that this resolution is much better, but hey, I figured I'd give it a shot). I'm such an evil author hahaha *evil grin and evil laughter à la "Despicable Me"* So yes, this fic is officially complete. As I stated in a previous chapter, I at fluff and romance, so please forgive the awful cheesiness of this chapter (oops...spoiler alert). *goes and hides in corner* Other than that...KAMSAHAMNIDA!!! <3

And as a side note, yes, I know the gif is of Sophia Lucia, known for her pirouettes and "Dance Moms." No, I do not watch the show, but I have seen several of her (and the other girls's performances), and as a dancer, I have tremendous respect for them. What they're doing, under the scrutinity of national TV, is torture. But they have immense passion and talent, and a lot of their routines are actually where I get inspiration for writing. So yeah, here's my little note. And with that, enjoy this  chapter! Commentm subscribe, upvote, whatever you wish! I have taken my bows and thanked you sooooo many times for all your support, and now the stage is yours. :)

 

<3 mei

---

 

It was strange, really, how it all worked out. Strange but perfect. Fei Fei had associates who worked at the docks on the river, and they agreed to help me from the water and throw a decoy out instead, but only if I 1) survived the fall and 2) could swim to the location of their barge across the frigid river. Luckily both were achieved, and I was pulled from the waters alive, soaked and with broken ribs, fractured arms, and bruised lungs, but nonetheless alive. I was treated at an underground hospital, where I stayed for an extra week before Jia and her friends with the Skinheads were able to get me a student Visa under a new name to the United States. I cut and dyed my hair a mahogany red color, a subconscious homage to Jungkook that allowed him to be with me wherever I went.

 

Fei Fei and Jia joked that the prophecy of my tattoo really was coming true, that I really was being reborn from my own ashes a stronger, wiser, more beautiful being, one that was honorable and worthy of being proud of and of being loved. I laughed along with them all the way until it was time for us to part ways in Incheon. I would take a short flight to the Philippines, where once I was in Manila, I would get in contact with the daughter of Sister Ping, Jia’s Skinhead contact, who would get me a flight to New York City. I gave them hugs and kisses goodbye and mulled over their words. Maybe I really was reborn. Maybe I really was spreading my wings and growing as a person, one who deserved to love and be loved.

 

The only problem was that those I loved most believed me to be dead, falling to my death in the winter river under my own power as a simultaneously selfish yet sacrificial act. I sighed as I stared out the windows of the plane as we began to speed down the runway, doing my best to keep the tears at bay. I caught one final glance of my adopted-homeland, memories flooding back with the tears that just couldn’t be kept away. I bit my lip and swallowed hard. While I may be rising from these ashes, I was still a dead woman in South Korea, just like I was in England and China. I exhaled shakily and turned away from the window. I needed to erase all memories of the past and get ready to start a new life, otherwise the past would come back to haunt me, like it just did. I closed my eyes and worked on quieting my racing mind.

 

As long as I am dead to BTS. I swallowed hard. So then BTS will be dead to me.

 

 

---

 

A year had come and gone since those events on the Mapo Bridge over the Han River. No longer was I Liang Hongyu or Yang Jade. Instead I was now Giada Leung, a Chinese-British exchange student from the East End of London studying at NYU in their dance program. I was living on campus right in Greenwich Village and loving every moment. Only occasionally was I reminded of the previous year spent on the streets of Hongdae and my past beyond that. They were usually times when I was in the studio changing in front of the giant mirrors, the kinds that allow you to examine yourself from every angle. It was moments like then when I could see the scars that decorated my forearm, remnants of bruises and ligature marks, and would have momentary flashbacks of the events that triggered or caused these scars. And then I would remember the studio I lived in, the cold, dark warehouse that quickly became a home to me. And then I would see Jungkook’s face in my mind’s eye, and I would have to leave the room until the flashbacks passed. Luckily, these were far and few in between, but when the occurred, they were beyond overwhelming, but my fellow dancers were understanding and allowed me my space and time to recover from whatever it was that was troubling me (I shared absolutely nothing with no one on campus, not even my lovely roommate Anne, who gratefully minded her own business but still kept me alive in the NYU social scene).

 

As a dance group, we had the opportunity to travel to one of three possible locations for our senior project: Pais, Moscow, or Seoul. Paris was everyone’s first choice, but unfortunately the sponsorship for that city fell through at the last minute, and we were left with Moscow or Seoul as options. My initial thought was to go to Moscow. Returning to Seoul was too great a risk, and besides, Moscow was the birthplace of some of the greatest ballets, and if anything went awry, 14K had connections with the Russian Mafia, so I knew I would be covered. I was about to cast my vote for Moscow when a fellow dancer’s phone rang. She blushed, quickly pardoning herself and answering, leaving the room without a word.

 

I was frozen, my mind spinning to fast to function. The rest of the company stared at me, and the instructor asked if I was ok and what my vote was and if I had an argument. I shook myself out of my trance-like state and met eyes with the instructor, my lips and swallowing hard before finally speaking.

 

“Seoul,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. “I would like to go to Seoul. No reason m’am, just a feeling.”

 

She nodded her head and mumbled a “fair enough” before moving on to the rest of my dance mates. I curled into a ball against the mirror under the barre, trying to make myself invisible so that if any tears were to fall, no one would see. Internally I berated myself for my sudden change of decision, my sudden change of logic. It was a sudden change of everything but my heart, and all I needed was to hear that song, our song, and the image of him resurfaced. It had been a stupid pinky promise, but it was one I vowed to uphold, just like any other oath, and even though some could see it as pure coincidence, I saw it as a sign. When that dancer’s phone rang, everything about him came to life; his understanding brown eyes, his firm but gentle embrace, his gentle and smooth lips, and his velvety, easy voice promising to me in song (and in heavily accented Engrish) that “lights will guide you home and ignite your bones, and I, I will try to fix you.”

 

 

---

 

After all the votes were cast by the dancers, there turned out to be an “upset victory” of Seoul over Moscow. Preparations were made, and we would be spending our winter vacation in Seoul. Excitement buzzed throughout every dance studio, and the two dozen or so of us that were going could hardly contain our excitement. Finally the time came to leave, and with bags packed and ticketed, I said goodbye to my roommate Anne and wished her happy holidays, and off we went to Seoul.

 

We were given a few days to adjust to the time zone and the weather (not that I needed much acclimation) before our first company performance. We would have company performances for the first week and solo exhibitions the second. We were one of several universities that was invited to perform in Seoul, and as one of the top performing arts universities in the United States, we were expected to perform spectacularly, especially as there was going to be a plethora of scouts and agents during every solo exhibition. The first week (for me) was fairly uneventful. Don’t get me wrong, I loved performing as a company and having interspersed group dances, duets, and solos. It was essentially a musical without the speaking. But like the majority of my dance mates, we were more interested in the potential of having scouts watch our performances, scouts from professional dance troupes and companies from all over the world. The second week went by just as smoothly as the first, and everyone in our company received interest and contact information from one performing company or another. I myself had been approached by the Birmingham Royal Ballet, Australian Dance Theater, and the Seoul National Ballet. I was shocked; while I had only limited training in pointe, I apparently did something right to attract the attention of two of the most respected ballet companies in the world. Throw in a cutting edge contemporary dance crew, and I was smitten. But we still had one final performance, and this one was supposed to have the most scouts in the audience yet. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was aiming for each time I performed, but my warrior spirit broke through every time. Regardless of my past, regardless of my history, regardless of my name - my real name - I was fighter underneath all of that, and it was the fenghuang’s fire coursing through my veins during each performance that allowed me to soar on its wings and give every performance my all.

 

 

---

 

It was Friday night, the final night of performances and three days before we were scheduled to leave for New York. I had been anxious the whole day, a feeling eerily reminiscent of my detox symptoms. The entire time I was here I hadn’t had the time to look for him, but I secretly hoped he was looking for me, or at least knew I was alive. I knew I promised to myself to let all of that die, but being back in Hongdae, the old streets I used to roam, I just couldn’t do that. Every part of my soul ached for him to show up, but I knew how big this city was, I knew how tight our company’s schedule was. I knew the odds of me running into him again, and it hit like a knife to the chest. Maybe that song was just a coincidence after all. I sighed as I prepared for my final performance backstage. It’s just a coincidence. He didn’t sent it. It’s just a song. They’re just lyrics. They’re just a group of guys. He’s just a man. They all mean nothing. I was hardening my heart before my final performance, when my finale solo was a presentation of exactly the opposite. I heard a snap from behind and someone call my name. It was finally my turn to perform my solo. I was the last to perform, twenty other phenomenal dancers of all genres having just laid their hearts on the stage in the hopes of gaining a professional contract. For my solo I would be dancing a lyrical to a cover of “I Will Always Love You,” sung by a Korean-American singer named Ailee. It was the song that always made me think of Jungkook. It was as if the song was written about star-crossed lovers like us. Memories flooded back just thinking of the lyrics, but I shook them away. I had to be on my A-game, as the crowd was littered with professional dance scouts. I sighed and knelt down to adjust my dance shoes. I was wearing a white, knee-length, Grecian style dress, my black hair cascading down in soft waves with a giant white ribboned flower. I heard the music finish for my classmate and the announcer belt out my name.

 

“And ladies and gentlemen, with our final performance of the night, please give a round of applause to Giada Leung!”

 

I bowed as I walked to center stage and superficially scanned the crowd. Most were faculty of other schools, some were patrons of art, others were ajjushis and aggashis who appreciated dance, and the remaining were scouts of various kinds. I got onto my knees, my starting position for this dance, and nodded for the song to start. The soft piano of the song began, and with grace I lifted myself into the song, each note, each lyric propelling me to dance with more passion than I ever had but simultaneously sending me back in the past right here in Hongdae, back to BTS’s studio, back into Jungkook’s arms. 

 

 

I swear that my heart bled on that stage. With each pirouette, with every tilt, firebird, attitude leap, with tumble out that left me vulnerable on the stage, I imagined I was dancing it for him. I wanted so badly for him to see this performance, to know that I came back and that I would always love him, but I knew those chances were slim to none.

 

My solo finished with me on the floor, trying to express with every fiber of my being that I would always love him. My performance was met with a standing ovation, their shouts of awe and appreciation shaking me back to reality. I hazily stood and took my bows, a weak smile on my face as I waved to the crowd. In the back of the performance hall I swore I saw seven figures clad in red and white. I shook my head, but in an instant, they were gone. I continued my thanks to the crowd and headed backstage, where I was meet with more commendation and support. Hollowly, I smiled and thanked them too, my mind still hung up on those seven figures I had seen.

 

 

---

 

When we finally exited the hall and with all the performances done, everyone else in our dance company wanted to have a fun night on the town, clubbing, bar hopping, you name it. I decided to turn in early, returning to our hotel on foot, claiming that I “just needed some down time.” Our instructor offered to pay for a cab, but I gratefully declined, telling her I enjoyed the cold air and that I knew my way around the city. She narrowed her eyes and gave me a look, but put the money back.

 

“Alright Giada, as long as you’re back around the same time we are. You have my cell?”

 

I nodded, and she turned to leave with the rest of the company. I exhaled loudly. I nearly got myself caught there, but the important thing was that I was out of it now. I spun on my heels and took in the sights of Hongdae again, this bright-light district that I was all-too familiar with. I down to the subway and hopped on a train for the Mapo Bridge. Once at the stop, I hopped off the train and made my way to the pedestrian walk.

 

I made it to the very base of the walk, where everything started. I walked to the point where I jumped, the scenes replaying like a moving with each step I took. There were a handful of pedestrians, mostly couples. I finally made it to “my spot,” everything still exactly as I last remembered it. I leaned over the edge inhaled deeply, allowing the flood of memories to overtake me. A sudden voice brought me back to reality, and I whipped my head around to see who was talking.

 

“Your dancing was spectacular tonight. You even dance better than Jin, V, and Rap Mon combined.”

 

My heart leapt at the voice.

 

“Jungkookie…”

 

He raised his head, red hood over his head. So they were there. He continued talking.

 

“I figured I’d find you here.”

 

I cocked my head at him, but couldn’t get a word out.

 

“I know you’re busy, and you probably have a lot to do for your dancing, and that this encounter is the last thing you were expecting, but I just...I just wanted to see you and talk to you one more time.”

 

Reaching into his hoodie, Jungkook removed a chain from around his neck. Around it were two rings - two gold bands or some kind, one with stones on it. He unclasped the chain and let the rings slide off. He studied them in his palm while scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

 

“I bought these a year ago. I can’t say for sure what I was thinking, but I bout them anyway.”

 

He laughed nervously.

 

“I can’t really say I know what I’m thinking or doing now either.”

 

He looked at me, now with tears in his eyes.

 

“It’s been a year Jade. A year of me having to live thinking you were gone, that we - I - didn’t mean enough to you for you to stick around. Do you know how much that hurts?”

 

I hung my head, tears starting to form in my own eyes. I knew that if I did run into him, that this would happen.

 

“For months I kept believing that you would one day just walk back into the studio, your usual self, as if nothing happened. But no. Instead I lived in a silent hell that you created for me because you were too damn selfish to share how you were in crisis. I could have helped Jade! I could have helped so that all of this-” he gestured around “could be avoided!”

 

I snapped, the fire of my inner gangster showing through as I looked at him through angry tears.

 

“Don’t you think I know that already? I know I’ve put BTS through immense pain, but no one as much as you. Do you know what it’s like to live with that guilt? To have actually fallen in love and then have lied to that only one you ever truly loved? And do you know why I lied? To save you. Call it an act of selfish heroism, but I did not want to bring you down with me. Not then, not now, not ever.”

 

I took a shaky breath.

 

“And do you know why? Because I loved you too damn much. And the hardest part is that I still do. And always will.”

 

Jungkook just stared, the rings still in his hand. Neither of us spoke for several minutes, the realities of our confessions setting in. Finally he spoke.

 

“What brought you back? Other than your dance group?”

 

I stared at him.

 

“Don’t give me that look, I know you. You wouldn’t come back here unless-”

 

“I heard the song.”

 

I hung my head again as Jungkook stared at me in bewilderment.

 

“You...you what?”

 

I swallowed hard, trying not to choke on my tears.

 

“You...you heard me. The song...our song...I heard it when we as a group were trying to decide where to go. Initially I was set on Moscow, but then that song played, and I just…”

 

I turned to face him, eyes red and face streaked with tears.

 

“I heard the song I remembered the promise I made. And you know I don’t go back on promises. And I thought that maybe, just maybe, you heard it too. And that you would be waiting for me.” I half laughed. “Guess I’ve become to soft, huh.”

 

Jungkook’s eyes flitted from the rings in his hand to me. He took a careful step forward, biting his lip as he stood.

 

“...I heard it too.”

 

I looked up at him in bewilderment.

 

“We lease out our studio to a local dance group, and today they were performing a piece to that song. You know that, while I love that kind of music, that’s not the kind I dance to. I’d much prefer to watch it. I heard that there was the exhibition of dance schools here in Seoul, and figured I’d stop by to ‘get my fix,’ if you will. And of course, the rest of the gang came to but what I’m trying to say is...I heard it too.”

 

I stood frozen as he took steps closer until we were in front of each other. Head down, he opened his hand, showing me the rings. One was a simple gold band with no adornments, while the other was another gold band, but with a red jade stone in the shape of a heart. He held up both rings to my face, showing me the insides. My hands flew to my face in shock and the tears flowed freely.

 

I’ll be there to fix you. JJ ♥ LH

 

I collapsed onto the bench, every single decision leading up to that fateful night ripping me to shreds while second guessing every choice I had made since then. I began to shake out of anxiety and confusion, my heaving sobs making it hard to breath. Jungkook’s figure sat down beside me and slowly my back. Tears were trickling down his face and he let them stay there, the saltwater reflecting in the bridge lights as he lifted his face.

 

“These rings...I bought them on a whim, yeah, but with the intention of them becoming something more. Of them being a way for us to stay loyal to each other and to show the world of our love. But then you died - er, left - and then...yeah.”

 

I sniffled and wiped my nose.

 

“But...but what made you keep them after all this time?”

 

Jungkook let out a small smile and turned to face me.

 

“I made a promise too, you know. And I heard the song too...guess I’m just as naïve as you.”

 

I smiled, hiccoughing in the process. Jungkook smiled back, and my heart skipped a beat.

 

“When do you leave?”

 

My face darkened and I sighed.

 

“Three days.”

 

Jungkook hummed.

 

“Do you want to go back?”

 

I shot him an incredulous look. Of course I wanted to go back. I had to finish my degree. I had a life there, one that was pretty fulfilling. Sure, there was no real excitement or romance, and I was often treated like a foreigner (which, technically, I was), but I could live like that...right?

 

Jungkook inspected my face.

 

“It’s a no, isn’t it.”

 

My weary eyes met his, brows furrowed in curiosity.

 

“And what makes you say that?”

Jungkook stretched his torso, rocking side to side.

 

“I mean, things may have changed, but back then, whenever you had a decision to make, you made it like that.” He snapped his fingers. “The fact you’re fighting internally about it shows that you’re torn, and if you’re torn between two or more things, you should always go for the second because if you really loved the first, there would be no second. But honestly, for you right now, I don’t think your greatest concern is where you’re the safest, but where you’re the most content.”

 

I sighed. He sure had matured since I last saw him, and his words really hit home. Did I really want to go back? Was that my first or second choice? Where was I most content? I had been concerned with keeping my low profile for so long that I forgot what contentment was like. I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up images of it - and all that came to mind were my times in Seoul. I shook my head.

 

“Aniyo, I don’t really want to go. As great as a school and city they are, I’m someone I’m not when I’m there. I’m this quiet, reserved, goodie-two-shoes who gets everything done right the first time. I have no fire, no fight.” I paused. “And I miss that. I don’t feel whole when I’m there...like a huge part of me is missing. I thought that leaving would allow for a fresh start and for the ‘old me’ to die, but if anything, it’s done the opposite.”

 

“So what are you going to do?”

 

I rubbed my temples and rested my elbows on my knees.

 

“Mollayo. Jinja mollayo.”

 

Jungkook just stared past me.

 

“I think you do know.”

 

I popped my head up, my curiosity piqued.

 

“How so?”

 

Jungkook simply shrugged his shoulders.

 

“You kept your promise. You came back.”

 

I laughed in slight mockery.

 

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

 

Jungkook turned so that we were facing each other on the bench. His usually playful eyes were full of intense emotion. He took my hands in his, the warmth from his body radiating into mine.

 

“Jade...god this going to sound so sappy and I’m sorry for that...but really Jade...I’ve never stopped loving you. I never gave up hope that you would come back. That’s why I kept the rings.”

 

He paused to look at the rings again, then back at me.

 

“I know it’s been a year, a year of separation where we’ve both grown immensely and a lot has changed. And I know you’re supposed to leave in just three days.” He his lips. “But Jade, I’m asking for another chance. Another chance at happiness. Another chance at love. Another chance at us.”

 

The tears were streaming down my face by now. Jungkook reached out a hand and gently wiped them away. I blubbered an incoherent response.

 

“But...but why? Why wait? Why me? There’s so many other people out there. I just bring trouble. I don’t want you to have to endure that.”

 

Jungkook shook his head.

 

“I’d rather die a death of five thunderbolts and myriad of swords than live without you.”

 

I couldn’t help but smile at his 14K reference. He continued.

 

“I brought you into this giant mess to begin with, with my ‘recruitment’ of you into BTS to help us solve our problems, and I wouldn’t be a man - or even a friend - if I didn’t at least try to fix it, to help fix you and heal your wounds.”

 

He looked at me with pleading eyes.

 

“Will you let me do that?”

 

My head spun at everything he just said. What would a yes mean? What would a no mean? What if I just leapt off the bridge again? Would I stay here? Then what? I’d have a target on my back all over again. But what if I went back? I’d be without the one person I ever loved - and who ever loved me in return. My brain screamed, imploding upon itself while my face remained stoic and the tears continued to rain down.

 

Out of nowhere I heard a voice. It was the voice of a female, probably in her early twenties. It sounded really shaky, as if she had been crying for quite some time. It was faint, but her words were strong and there was an authority and decisiveness in them, as if her life depended upon them. The words were simple; just a “yes, yes please, and kamsahamnida. Jeongmal kamsahamnida.”

 

My hand flew up to my mouth when I realized that the voice I had heard was my own. My eyes grew and I turned to Jungkook, who had his own look of shock on his face, but his was more a pleasant surprise.

 

“Did...did I just say that?”

 

He pursed his lips and nodded, unsure if I would be happy at my own subconscious response or not.

 

I froze for a moment, letting the entirety of the situation settle in. I returned my gaze to Jungkook and the tears returned, only this time I could sense they were tears of relief and not of anxiety or pain. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tight, in a cheesy way that lovers who haven’t seen each other in a wile do in those K-dramas I detest. His strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me in closer, whispering in my hear how sorry he was and how much he loved me, while I whispered my own apologies and that everything was ok now because we were together, we both came back when we heard our song.

 

He broke the hug and held out the rings again, searching for approval in my eyes. My heart skipped beats, unsure of where he was going with this. Jungkook cleared his throat and spoke.

 

“I know it’s been a year, and like we’ve established, a lot has changed during this time. So these rings won’t quite signify what their original intent was, but it’s pretty close.”

 

He slipped the plain gold band on the fourth finger of his left hand and held it up.

 

“This is my promise to you that I, Jeon Jungkook, will do everything I can to love with every fiber of my being, support you in everything you do, encourage you throughout every hardship, and protect you from demons that attack both from within and from outside, you - my Yang Jade, my Liang Hongyu, my Lady Liang, my Miss Red Jade, my jagiya. Saranghae.”

 

He opened his hand, the other ring sitting in his palm as if it were an offering. I went to reach for it but he pulled back at the last second, a mixed look of determination and insecurity on his face.

 

“M...may I?”

 

I my breath in, biting my lip, and nodded.

 

With shaky hands he took my left hand and carefully slid the ring on the fourth finger. It was a perfect fit, just like Cinderella and her glass slipper. Fighting back another round of tears, I looked up at him and lifted my own hand as if to show off all the world our relationship. I opened my mouth and spoke in as calm and clear a voice I could muster, never breaking my gaze from his soft brown eyes.

 

“And I promise to you that I, Liang Hongyu, will do all that I can to love with all my heart, console as best I can, protect with all my strength, sacrifice myself if necessary, and just help you be the best you can be - you Jeon Jungkook, the ‘golden maknae,’ my Jungkookie. Saranghae.”

 

I swallowed hard as I saw tears beginning to fall down his face. I slowly lowered my hand until it was resting on my lap, and I lowered my gaze to meet it. I felt a warm hand underneath my chin and felt my head being lifted. Jungkook’s face was inches away, his eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted as he whispered.

 

“M...May I?”

 

I nodded slightly, not wanting to disrupt his hold on my chin. Our lips met slowly and softly at first, then grew in intensity as the passion increased. This time, we didn’t hold back. We didn’t care about passer byes or pedestrians. It was like that kiss from The Notebook, filled with a longing desire, love, and a hint of lust. I smiled into the kiss. For a gangster, my life sure is turning out to be like a sappy, fluffy drama or harlequin novel. We both pulled away for air, faces still just inches away, when Jungkook held up his lift pinky beside our heads.

 

“We’ve made a lot of promises over a short amount of time, but we’ve kept to every single one of them, including returning when we heard our song.” He looked at me with ernest eyes before closing them tightly. “Can you make one last promise? I have no doubts that you will stick to your own promise, but can you promise that you will trust me and my promise and allow me to be there for you no matter what happens and let me be your place to center yourself when you find yourself astray?”

 

I could feel his warm breath on my face as I stared at his closed eyes. I rested my forehead against his and closed my eyes too, allowing his words and request to sink in. I opened my eyes and lifted my own finger and locked it in his, our hands joined once again in promise. I closed my eyes and leaned in again to meet his lips, whispering my honest promise against his soft lips.

 

“Yaksoke Jungkookie, yeongwanhi yaksoke gwa yeongwanhi saranghae.”