On the fourth day of their separation, Jungkook had lost what little sanity he had left. He lay sprawled on the cold floor, surrounded by an ocean of Y/n's clothes, a desperate man clinging to the last vestiges of a shattered reality. His eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt from days without food or water. He muttered incoherently to himself, his voice a haunting echo in the silent room.

In the distance, through the haze of his delirium, Jungkook noticed a figure walking towards him. He rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. As the figure came into focus, his heart leapt with a mix of hope and desperation. It was Y/n. She was here.