The drive to Jungkook's new penthouse apartment was long, with no other noise but silence between the occupants. I stared out the window at the city lights, blurring into streaks of gold and white. It had been such a sharp distinction to the darkness that seemed to settle in my heart. I hadn't said anything since yesterday night, and I had no intention of breaking the silence now.

Jungkook's attention never strayed from the road; his hands were firm on the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He did not speak to me, and couldn't explain or justify the events unfolding. Maybe he realized there was no point. He seemed equally tired with this farce as I was. But I had nothing to say to him.