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gukyi · 3 years

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the art of the rom-com | jjk

summary: FILM395, the art of the rom-com, was supposed to be an easy a with one of your favorite professors, but it’s not. it’s actually a sisyphean torture that comes in the form of fellow film student jeon jungkook, who has no problem responding to every one of your discussion posts about the consumerist ideals underlying every romance movie with his own paragraphs on the beauty of love like the hopeless romantic he is. and when the two of you find yourselves partnered up for your final project, which is to create a short film on rom-coms, jungkook decides to take it upon himself to show you what love is really like.

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: film major!jungkook x film major!reader (female) genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, this is literally a rom-com in fic form word count: 33k warnings: college alcohol consumption, discussion board posts, emotionally constipated characters, film major shenanigans, blonde jungkook who’s also in a hip hop dance troupe, miscommunication, if you hate rom-coms do not read this fic

a/n: i am so so so excited to share this monster of a jungkook fic (tho let’s be real, 30k is pretty standard for me now ;-;) with you all! this is basically rom-com trash, but it’s my rom-com trash, and i hope you all enjoy!

on a sadder, less exciting note: after this fic i will be taking an extended writing hiatus until at least the beginning of may. my semester is picking up and i unfortunately just don’t currently have any upcoming fics planned for you guys. i hope you understand!! maybe i’ll do a couple of ask games here and there to see if anything piques my interest, but other than that please do not expect major works of writing for a while. love you all!

500 Days of Summer is a movie you all have probably seen before. That being said, I encourage you to respond to this discussion board from a film perspective as opposed to a viewer’s perspective. How did 500 Days of Summer alter the classic narrative of boy-meets-girl? Do you think it was a smart move, on the parts of Webb, Neustadter, and Weber, to do so? Why or why not?

Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM

I thought that the change in the boy-meets-girl narrative that had been popularized by rom-coms of the 1990s definitely contributed to his popularity and its attractiveness towards viewers in general. The film makes it clear that the story does not have a so-called happy ending, but despite that, it still brings into discussion the idea of love and soulmates and true connection. And that’s important, because despite the film’s not-so-happy ending, it makes it a point to emphasize that those things are real. That love is real. I thought it was an excellent move on the parts of the writers and director, because they both broke standards in terms of happy endings in rom-coms and they stayed true to the message at hand.

Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM

I have to disagree with Jungkook. It’s obvious the movie is not going to have a happy ending because Tom is so obsessed with the version of Summer he has created in his head that he doesn’t even see who the real girl is anymore. It doesn’t have a happy ending not because they weren’t soulmates, or because their love wasn’t right. They break up because what Tom wants and what Summer wants are fundamentally different, and Tom just can’t accept the fact that Summer doesn’t love him the way he wants her to. In a desperate quest to keep her, though, he manifests this version of her and replaces the actual Summer with it, ultimately destroying their relationship. How could viewers ever have faith that Tom would eventually get his happy ending if the only proof of his commitment to relationships they have is him manufacturing a different girl to fall in love with?

When you walk into class, Jeon Jungkook is already there.

He sits in the front row, the seat closest to the door in your puny little classroom, much too small for twenty-students to fit comfortably, let alone watch movies on the pull-down projector screen above the chalkboard. You’re convinced he’s chosen that seat just so he can grin at you whenever you walk in the room, always later than him because apparently, he has nothing better to do with his time than show up to class early and smirk at you when you arrive.

As you shuffle past his seat towards your own—second row, middle of the room, centered with the lecturer’s podium—with your usual scowl drawn neatly across your face, Jungkook says, overly bright and cheery, “Good morning, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to make your nose scrunch up in further disgust. “Shut up,” you grumble back, stuffing yourself into your chair and pulling out your laptop. One row in front of you and five seats to the right, you see Jungkook chuckle.

Glowering, you open up your Notes document for the class and try to avoid staring at Jungkook’s side profile, the way he’s slouching lazily in his seat, and what looks to be a lengthy paragraph on his computer screen, a task that proves to be particularly difficult because he happens to sit in the exact spot you have to look in order to see your professor enter the room. What the hell is he even writing, anyway?

He straightens up the moment she does, cheerful as always as she smiles at everyone. “Good morning, everyone.”

The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves.

“I can just feel the enthusiasm radiating throughout the room,” she jokes, clenching her fists together in success. At least that gets a couple of you to laugh. “Which is great, because before we get to anything today, we’re gonna talk about the final project.”

You smile to yourself, immediately pulling up the copy of the syllabus you had downloaded to your desktop, scrolling right down to where she had outlined information about the final project in big, bolded letters. There are a lot of reasons you’ve taken this class, not the least of which is the fact that you have had Professor Pollack three times prior to this and she’s loved you in every class, but the final project was definitely one of the major selling points.

Pollack pulls up a more detailed final project document on the projector as she steps out from behind the podium. “As you guys know, your final project is a thirty-to-forty minute short film involving rom-coms. You guys have a lot of freedom, it can be a rom-com, it could be a documentary about rom-coms, anything. It just needs to involve the topic of rom-coms somehow. I know a lot of you have actor friends who would be more than happy to have a star-crossed lovers fling or whatever. Go wild. Just keep it PG-13, because I can’t in good faith have nude bodies of your fellow college students on my screen.”

You snort to yourself. Makes you wonder how many times Pollack has seen sex scenes of college students on her screen before. Too many, probably.

Unintentionally, your eyes drift over to Jungkook. He seems to be working on that hefty paragraph of his, typing something you assume is completely unrelated to the topic at hand and is further proof that Jungkook just doesn’t give a shit about anything involving this class. Whatever. You turn back to Pollack.

“Good projects not only capture the essence of what a rom-com is, but also put their own twist on the story and bring into question the topics we discuss in class, like truthfulness, realistic portrayals of love, and viewer interpretation,” she continues, and with every word you feel heart beat faster in excitement. “I know you’re all excellent filmmakers. That’s why you’ve taken this class. But what I want you to do is get into the nitty-gritty of the makeup of a rom-com and distill it as much as possible. We’ll be watching them all in class during the last week. Yes, Celia?”

You all turn to look at Celia, who sits in the third row, second seat from the left. “This is a partner project, right?”

Well. That’s the one downside. As much as you know that cooperation is an important life skill, you would much rather prefer to produce the entire movie yourself. But you love Pollack and you already know you’re on track to get a good grade in this class, so whatever. You’ll deal.

As long as you can pick your teammate.

“Yes,” Pollack affirms, “and with that excellent segue, I will now announce your partners.”

Shit.

Pollack pulls out a folded piece of paper from her back pocket, like she had just come up with the arrangements on the morning train ride to campus, and begins reading. Slowly, as she ticks off names one by one, everyone begins to turn around, locking eyes with their partners and exchanging guess-it’s-us-two-huh? smiles. Everyone except—

“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”

You freeze in place. You look up at your professor, eyes wide and shocked, because nobody knows better than her how much the two of you have been butting heads this entire semester. But when you meet her eyes and she smiles knowingly, shrugging her shoulders, you know you’re doomed. Hesitantly, almost like you’re scared to find out what happens when you do, you shift your gaze towards where Jungkook sits in the front right corner of the room. Only he’s not just sitting. He’s turned a full one hundred-and-eighty degrees just so he can smirk at you from across the room, a glint in his eye.

Jungkook laughs at your cold-stone, shellshocked reaction. Like he knows how much you’ll hate this, and you know how much he’ll enjoy it.

From here, you actually have a pretty good view of his laptop screen, brightness turned all the way up because he apparently doesn’t care who reads his screen. Or maybe he just likes showing off how much he writes so he can establish dominance over everyone else. Except you, of course. But when you look a little closer, you notice he’s got the class discussion board for the week up on his Chrome window, two paragraphs typed into the text box.

Right above is your response to his comment.

Is that what he was working on? His reply to your reply? Right now? He has the audacity to draft it right here, in front of you, where he knows you can see? He doesn’t even care that you’re blatantly staring at it. In fact, he actually seems to be relishing in it.

You’re so caught off guard by the contents of his computer screen that when you look back up at him on instinct, you catch a wink in your direction.

Your fists tighten by your side.

Class is rather uneventful after the whole partner fiasco, as Pollack transitions into your usual dose of a short lecture on the film and then a class discussion that goes absolutely nowhere because everyone is too concerned with the final project to care. Whatever you talk about, you will be hard pressed to know, because you spend the entire rest of the period scowling at the blank page of your Notes document as you try to formulate a way to convince Pollack to change your partner. Would she accept a dozen doughnuts as a bribe? A box is only ten dollars from Dunkin’.

When Pollack finally shuts her laptop screen and begins her weekly goodbye spiel, you are the first one out of the room. Hastily, you stuff your laptop into your bag, zip it up as best as you can (which means that the tops of your water bottle and umbrella are sticking out, but who cares), and shuffle out the room right as Pollack is bidding you all farewell, just so you don’t have to look at Jungkook’s stupid, smug little grin on the way out.

Faintly, you remember Pollack saying something about getting your partner’s contact information so you can start working, but fuck that. Jungkook knows your name. He can find you. If you must spend the entire semester communicating through Instagram DMs, then so be it. You’ve communicated with men in worse ways. Like through LinkedIn.

There’s a small seating area half a flight down from where your puny little classroom is, a few tables and a bench that wraps around the wall, posters splayed out on the corkboard to the right, staples littering both the board and the floor it rests above. Nobody ever seems to use this, despite the innumerable posters advertising everything from dance troupe shows to financial literacy talks, which makes it the perfect place for you to brood and gather your thoughts. It’s also in the direct opposite direction of the exit. So that’s good.

Taking your anger out on your personal belongings (as opposed to that bitchass smirk on Jungkook’s face), you begin to shove your umbrella and water bottle into the pocket of your backpack, fighting to nestle them amongst your other worldly possessions, like your pencil case and what looks to be a small nest of receipts at the bottom of the back. No wonder it’s so clogged up down there.

If anything gives you a sense of control, it’s cleaning. One by one, you pluck out the receipts from your bag, nose scrunching up as you try to remember every purchase you’ve made in the past three months. Plus, one of these receipts is from when you bought some dryer sheets from CVS, so that means the five inches of actual information are also accompanied by three feet of coupons that expired two weeks ago. Ugh, what a waste.

“Don’t look so angry, you’ll have to get used to seeing this face a lot.”

You look up from where you’ve been inspecting an old receipt from a midnight McDonald’s trip to find Jungkook standing in front of you, backpack hanging loosely on his bomber jacket-clad shoulder and that same stupid grin written all over his same stupid face.

“Can I help you?” You drawl. Great. Now Jungkook can add “saw all her receipts” to the list of embarrassing things he’s caught you doing.

“Can I help you?” Jungkook fires back with a scoff, blonde hair bouncing as he jerks his head flippantly. “Looks like someone needs to take an Accounting class or something.”

“I’m just doing some spring cleaning,” you sneer. It’s February. “What do you want?”

“What, no ‘Hello, partner’? ‘So excited to be working with you this semester’? I’m hurt,” Jungkook says, placing a hand to his heart as he shakes his head disapprovingly. “I thought we had something good, Y/N. Isn’t that why Pollack paired us up?”

You’re pretty sure she just likes watching the world burn.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you chide, knowing that Jungkook already must get enough of a kick out of just seeing the annoyed look on your face.

“Please, like I even need to. You think I don’t notice the way you stare at me during class? I know you must like what you see,” Jungkook flirts, just to be extra irritating.

While he’s stroking his own ego, you tear off a piece of that CVS receipt, one of the expired coupons for Three Dollars Off Any Shampoo or Conditioner, and scribble your number on the back. The rest of the receipts you scoop up and dump in the trash can to your right before you zip up your backpack and hike it over your shoulder.

“Here,” you say gruffly, shoving the paper against his chest as you head towards the stairwell.

“How forward of you, Y/N, you know you could have just asked—”

Pausing right before you turn the corner and head out the door, you turn back to look at Jungkook, already exhausted from having to interact with him for five minutes. “And when you’re done jerking yourself off,” you say pointedly, “text me.”

You storm out the door.

[February 13th, 1:24PM]

Unknown Number: guess who ;)

You: Wow I have NO idea You: Keanu Reeves?

Unknown Number: haha very funny Unknown Number: it’s jungkook

You: Damn shame You: You done jerking off yet

Maybe: Jungkook: what makes you think i’m not doing that right now ;)))

You: You don’t have the coordination to text me and masturbate at the same time You: What do you want

Jungkook: ouch, harsh Jungkook: can’t i just want to talk to my final project partner? :D

[February 13th, 2:17PM]

Jungkook: alright fine Jungkook: just wanna see when you wanna meet up

You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I

Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime

You: Is that an option?

Jungkook: how about friday at 3 Jungkook: in one of the greene gsrs

You: You think you can manage to reserve one of those?

Jungkook: watch me

[February 13th, 2:21PM]

Jungkook: [screenshot sent] Jungkook: done

You: Do you want a gold star for all that hard work you just did? All that manual labor? You: Fine. See you then.

Jungkook: miss you already <3

Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM

Jeon Jungkook on February 13th at 7:35PM.

You make a good point, Y/N, but I think you missed the whole point of the movie. It’s not about their breakup or the not-so-happy ending or even Tom’s problems. It’s about the journey they go on and what Tom learns in the process. If you watch the trailer then you’d go into the movie knowing they weren’t gonna last. The results of whatever Tom and Summer do to contribute to their eventual breakup should not come as a surprise to the viewer. The whole point of the movie is that they spent five hundred days together and Tom is now recounting those days to anyone who will watch. And you know who’s watching? People who want to hear a story. About love. And loss. And everything in between. Isn’t that the whole reason we watch romance movies anyway?

Sometimes, you wonder if the garishness of Professor Pollack’s shoebox-sized office is the reason not very many students attend her office hours. The walls are lined with movie posters taken from a theater going out of business, the shelves stuffed to the brim with Disney World trinkets and old film memorabilia. She’s installed these thick red velvet curtains along her single window, making the whole room look like some sort of 1950s movie lair.

In a way, you suppose it kind of is.

You hear the taps of her Converse shoes as they come down the hallway and round the corner into the office.

“You know, Y/N, I was surprised to see you signed up for my office hours when I logged in this morning,” Pollack says as she enters the room, handing you the coffee in her right hand as she takes a sip out of the one from her left. Last year, the film department bought a Breville coffee maker with the leftover funds from a movie showing fundraiser and it is, in your humble opinion, the best investment the department has ever made.

“Why? I see you all the time,” you ask, eyebrows raised. You and Professor Pollack are not lacking in social connection. She’s written you a letter of recommendation and she knows your coffee order.

“The very first time we ever spoke outside of class, you sat down at my Starbucks table while I was eating lunch just so you could introduce yourself and ask me about my opinion on the Mamma Mia remake,” she deadpans. “We don’t exactly speak through official forums.”

Well, she’s got you there.

“I know…” you begin, trailing off awkwardly as you take a sip of your coffee. It’s burning hot and scalds your tongue a little, but it’s nice. It’s been cold recently. “But I just thought we could talk… privately.”

Pollack rolls her eyes as she reclines in her chair, back hitting the padding of the chair with a thud. “Goodness, I wonder what you’re here to talk to me about.”

“Okay, please pardon my French, but what the freak, Professor?” You say, because the words have been sitting hot on your tongue ever since you walked into your office and you didn’t think sending an email that looked like:

To: [email protected] From: y/[email protected] Subject: what the freak

Dear Professor Pollack,

What the freak?????????

Cheers, Y/N

would be very professional on your part.

Pollack lets out this honk of a laugh, loud and sudden, shaking her head fondly. “Come on, Y/N. You must have known I would have partnered the two of you up.”

“I was hoping you’d let us choose?” You emphasize.

“And miss out on what very well may be one of the best final projects of the class, produced by my two best students of the semester? Absolutely not,” she says, smiling knowingly at you.

Even her sudden reveal that you happen to be one her best students this semester isn’t enough to soothe your worries and calm your anger. You’re honored, but you have bigger problems. Problems that start with ‘Jeon’ and end with ‘Jungkook’.

Pollack looks at your beaten-down expression and leans forward, placing her coffee cup on the wooden desk in front of her. “Listen, Y/N. You’re an excellent student and one of the most talented filmmakers I’ve seen in a long time. Your discussion posts are detailed, well-written, and thought-provoking. I know that the two of you will make a great project.”

You scoff. “We can’t agree on a single thing.”

“Sometimes that happens in life, and you just have to deal with it,” Pollack says sagely.

“So I can’t change partners?”

“Not unless you’d like to fail the final,” Pollack comments, shrugging. How rude of her to say such a thing, not taking the option to change partners off the table entirely but making it so that if you do, you’ll pretty much be shooting yourself in the foot. Or worse.

You narrow your eyes at her. “That’s low.”

“That’s life,” she corrects.

“Ugh.” You get up out of your seat, taking angry sips of your coffee as you desperately try to think of another way to get out of it. Are doughnuts still an option?

“I have full faith that the both of you will come up with an excellent project,” Pollack says like it’s some sort of consolation as she walks you to the door to her office. Yeah, right. You and Jungkook spend your free time making snide responses to each other’s discussion posts like it’s nobody’s business. You’re probably the only two people at your entire university that care enough to make replies to each other’s replies. Like Tinder from hell. “You shouldn’t be worried, Y/N.”

“I’m not worried,” you say, completely worried. “I just—I don’t know how Jungkook and I will get along.”

Pollack grins to herself. Does she know something you don’t? Is she up to something? She looks at you as you linger in the doorway, feeling utterly helpless after a meeting that accomplished absolutely nothing, and she smiles.

“You’ll find a way.”

Reserving a group study room in the Greene Library and Collection should not be some gymnastics act that involves a warm-up, practice, a routine, and song and dance. In theory, all you have to do is log onto the library’s homepage, navigate to the reservations tab, enter your name and ID number, pick a date and time, and profit.

Of course, the demand for the study rooms does tend to outweigh the supply. There are over ten thousand students at your university. And only twenty rooms.

And still, you have the unfortunate luck of being stuck in one of them for an hour and a half with none other than Jeon Jungkook.

You see him coming into the library at 3PM sharp through the opposite entrance, a little surprised he didn’t show up ten minutes early like he does in class, just so he would have an excuse to complain about having to wait for you. Feeling a little threatened, you pick up the pace so that you can meet his lengthy stride, keeping an eye on his direction so you know which room he’s aiming for.

You arrive at Greene GSR #18 at the exact same time.

“So nice to see you,” Jungkook says, too cheerful, as you reach out to open the door.

“Mmm,” you mumble in response as you enter the room, flinging your backpack onto the floor by your chair with a thud as you take a seat. The faster you start, the faster you can get this over with.

Jungkook, not at all outwardly discouraged by your clear disdain for him, rallies on happily. “So, what were you thinking for the project?” But he doesn’t even let you open your mouth to answer before he says, “Oh, wait, let me guess: a social commentary on the consumerist ideals that underline every modern movie and encourage the pursuit of an empty dream by abandoning concrete career and personal goals in favor of romantic fulfillment.”

You scowl at him, even though that’s exactly what you were thinking of doing. You’re almost positive Pollack’s had enough of seeing college students try to engineer the craziest fake dating scenarios they can imagine just for a class project. Why not do something outside of the box?

“Well, then what do you want to do?” You challenge, already bristling. Like Jungkook has a better idea.

“Maybe something that doesn’t scream ‘killjoy’ as much as you do,” Jungkook retorts easily. He opens his mouth to spit out something else but then rolls his eyes and shrugs, shaking his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have even asked.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” you immediately rebuke, pointing at him. “You’re the one who wants to make some sort of generic rom-com for our final project. Besides, I’m pretty sure every idea you even think of will have been done already.”

“Just because something is cliche doesn’t make it bad,” Jungkook says. “I swear, I don’t think you understand what the word cliche even means. A cliche thing, by default, is something that lots of people like. Therefore, it is largely well-received by the general public.”

“Oh, then that must mean that all rom-coms are deserving of a People’s Choice Award then, right?”

Jungkook frowns, getting exasperated. You aren’t much farther off. “I don’t know why you’re being so—so resistant! You know that romantic comedies are supposed to be fun, right?”

“They’re not that fun to me,” you comment snidely.

“That’s because you’re a stick in the mud who takes everything way too seriously,” Jungkook replies like it’s some sort of known fact. “Have you ever even been in a relationship?”

“That’s none of your business,” you tell him firmly. Who does he think he is, going around asking that sort of thing? Especially to you! Like you could care any less about what Jungkook thinks of your love life. Intrusive, much? “Besides, you asking that is exactly my point. Not everything has to be about finding love and searching for your soulmate or whatever bullshit like that. Some people don’t really care that much.”

“You act like wanting to find love and wanting to be successful are mutually exclusive,” Jungkook points out. “You don’t have to abandon all of your life goals just to find love, you know. It doesn’t have to be the most important thing in your life for you to even care about it a little. It’s natural for people to want love.”

“Then I guess I’m just a robot.”

“You sure are acting like one,” Jungkook comments easily. “What, are you about to ask me to pick out all of the pictures with traffic lights?”

“I’m allowed to have my own views on love, just like you,” you say. Isn’t that the whole point of your discussion boards? A forum where you can discuss these sorts of things through an academic lens? A barrier that keeps the two of you from going at each other’s throats when you’re engaging in the class material? It doesn’t take a genius, or even half of one, to know that you and Jungkook can’t seem to agree on anything in your FILM395 class.

Jungkook scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘your own views on love’? As far as I’m aware, your view on love is that you don’t have one! What do you even think love really is?”

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says like it’s obvious. “This project is about filming a short romantic comedy, about people falling in love with each other. How do you expect me to do that if we don’t reach a mutual agreement on what love is?”

You scoff. “There is no way in hell I am going to agree with you on anything concerning love.” Jeon Jungkook still thinks love is all rainbows and sunshine. Cries at the end of Love, Actually even though he’s seen it five times already. Believes in soulmates. Believes there are people out there that were built for each other. He flutters from one person to the next like a butterfly, even though he’s more like a moth drawn to any open flame within a five-mile radius. He’s convinced he’ll find his true love here, in college, just like his parents found each other.

Yeah, right.

“Then what are we supposed to do, huh?” He says with an eyebrow raised. “We have a month to make a movie that’s fifty percent of our grade.”

“The social commentary is still on the table,” you point out. Sure, it’s not at all a romantic comedy, but it’s about them, which Pollack said was totally fine. Besides, she has been teaching you the entire semester, hasn’t she? She should know by now not to expect some cushy lovey-dovey story about two people who were destined to be with each other and can overcome all obstacles with their love.

Deep down, a part of you wonders if that’s why she paired you up with Jungkook. If she’s had enough of the sappy love stories that Jungkook probably wanted to do, didn’t want to see another cynical commentary on capitalism in Hollywood.

“Wow, what a thrilling idea,” Jungkook deadpans. “Please, tell me more.” His voice is lifeless.

“Oh, shut up. It’s not like your idea would be any better. Who would we even get to star in a rom-com we filmed? It’s not like the two of us could do it.”

You regret the words the instant they come out of your mouth. In horror, you watch as they sink into Jungkook’s brain, etching themselves into his mind as a lightbulb turns on, a bright idea popping into his thoughts.

He opens his mouth, but you get there first. “No. Whatever you’re thinking, absolutely not. I am not starring in a rom-com with you.”

That is something you can say with one-hundred percent confidence. Something that you know will never change.

“Just hear me out,” Jungkook pleads, looking a little desperate as he wrings his hands together, aching to spill the bubbling plan that’s been stewing in his head.

You narrow your eyes in suspicion but lean back into your chair, a silent signal for him to continue. It’s not as if you have any better idea.s

“Okay. It’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary,” he says, something that (and you can’t believe you’re saying this) actually piques your interest. Moreso than anything else he’s ever said to you. “You think love is totally manufactured, right? That Hollywood creates the illusion of it to sell to people paying twenty dollars for a movie ticket?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s do that. Let’s prove it’s manufactured.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” It’s not like you can walk into a factory and ask them to make the “love” emotion for you.

“We’ll be the stars.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it’s your best idea by a long shot, the home run of all home runs, your golden ticket to an A.

You scrunch up your nose, hesitant. “Wait, I don’t know—”

“It’s perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, eyes wide with excitement. “Think about it. It’ll be a mockumentary of a stereotypical rom-com. Except it won’t be this big Hollywood production, it’ll be real life. And it won’t be between two paid actors with years of experience under their belt, it’ll be us.” His eyes are practically bulging out of his head, big brown eyes glinting with excitement.

“So what are we gonna do? Act out our own rom-com in an attempt to see if either one of us will fall in love with the other?” You say, an eyebrow raised.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not necessarily. It’s a mockumentary, right? So it’s grounded in real life even if it is based upon the stereotypical boy-meets-girl rom-com. It won’t be super scripted or anything. Think of it more like… a chronicle.”

You scoff. “Of what?”

“Of us,” Jungkook says easily. “Of the time we have to spend together to film this damn project anyway. I say that rom-coms are emblematic of the natural human desire for love, and that deep down love is the thing that makes us happy. You say that rom-coms are consumerist propaganda, or whatever it is you think they are—”

“They are, and you can’t change my mind about that,” you interrupt, just for clarity. Can’t have Jungkook thinking he’s going to somehow convince you otherwise.

“—so, with this project, let’s see which one of us is right. If the time we have to spend together, making this mockumentary rom-com, will really change how we feel about each other, or if it won’t.”

How you feel about each other? You almost laugh when Jungkook says it out loud. There’s no room for questioning in your mind when it comes to how you two feel about each other. Two desperate-to-please students with opposite views on the entire structure of a class and three years of experience arguing your points in essays under your belts.

Jungkook believes in destiny, right? Then he must know that the two of you are destined to never get along.

“You should be a car salesman,” you joke. Jungkook’s certainly excellent at pitches.

“So, you in?”

You narrow your eyes, still a little wary of whatever it is Jungkook’s putting down. But it’s not like you have any better ideas. And the sooner you agree on something, the sooner you can get this goddamn project over with and never have to sit in class with Jeon Jungkook ever again.

“Only because this’ll finally prove to you that not everything can be solved by finding love,” you say. It’s about as good of a ‘yes’ as he’s going to get out of you.

Jungkook grins, mischievous as always. There’s certainly something else he’s plotting, you just aren’t sure what. Maybe he’s in cahoots with Pollack. “Or,” he begins, lips curling upwards, “you’ll just fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” He holds out his hand, palm facing up as he waits for your response, that devilish glint that you hate twinkling in his eyes.

As if you’re going to fall in love with Jungkook. For this stupid project? No way. Just because it’s a filmmaking project doesn’t make it any more bearable than your other assignments. It’s a partner project. They are, by their very nature, excruciating. You’ll be surprised if you end this project and you aren’t even more irritated with Jungkook. Does he really think you’ll actually develop some sort of affection for him?

You take his hand on your own, palm pressed against his, and you eye him carefully. Just because Jungkook’s got something up his sleeve doesn’t mean you don’t. Finally, finally, Jungkook will see why love is stupid and manufactured and fake. Why it doesn’t bring people together but instead tears them apart.

Maybe then he’ll leave you and your discussion posts in peace.

You smile up at him.

“I guess we will.”

When Ruby Rhodes is not six feet deep in The Princeton Review’s MCAT test prep book, she can usually be found at the small bakery five blocks west and two blocks north of your little campus, a family-owned place passed down through three generations. It’s her favorite place, and yours, too, because the coffee is delicious and the pastries are even better.

Plus, hardly anyone from your school ever comes here, which means the wifi speed is eons better than the Starbucks inside the main food court.

She’s halfway through a tiramisu and a rerun of The Bachelor from two seasons ago when you sit down across from her.

“Any good?” You ask, pulling out your laptop and squeezing it onto the tiny marble table in between the two of you.

“The food or the show?” Ruby asks over a mouthful of cake.

“Either.”

Ruby swallows down the piece sitting on her tongue before responding. “The tiramisu is delicious, and The Bachelor is eh. I’ve seen this episode three times already.”

“Then why are you watching it again?” You ask, laughing. Does Ruby think something different is going to happen?

“Because we’re in between weeks right now and honestly, The Bachelor is kind of dry this season,” Ruby says with a frown.

“You’ve got some tiramisu on your cheek,” you tell her, pointing to the left side of her face where the bright mascarpone cream sticks out like a sore thumb against her dark skin.

“It’s just so yummy, I can’t help but stick my whole face in it,” Ruby jokes as she wipes her face with the napkin on her lap. The Bachelor rerun plays on in the background, and you can hear the gasps of the women through Ruby’s discarded headphones.

You roll your eyes. “Why do you even watch that show still? You know it’s all crap.”

“Just because you think it’s crap doesn’t mean I do,” Ruby insists, playing out an argument the two of you have had plenty of times over the course of your friendship. “Watching it makes me happy. So I do it.”

“But it’s all fake,” you say, frowning in disapproval. “The couples don’t even stay together in the end anyway.”

“It’s a totally pre-constructed show, but it’s not fake in the moment. And I don’t expect the final couple to stay together.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Believe me, I’ve seen enough Bachelor seasons to know those odds. I just like watching the ride. It’s cute.”

“You say that about everything.”

“That’s because everything is cute,” Ruby says pointedly. “I like seeing the good in people.”

Ruby’s always been the exact opposite of you in terms of worldviews. The embodiment of a real-life fairy. She puts butterfly clips in her hair and buys herself bouquets of daisies and lilies. She sits in cafes with her headphones in and sketches the people she sees outside the window. She’s studying to be a doctor so she can spend the rest of her life helping others.

And you?

Well, the Oscars have always been a bit of a long shot.

The curiosity eating at you, you pose a question to her. “Hypothetically, if there were to exist a mockumentary on rom-coms and love, would you watch it?”

Ruby pauses for a second as she furrows her brows. Then she shrugs and says, “Only if the two leads fell in love at the end. Why?”

“No reason,” you say, looking away.

There’s no fooling Ruby and her eagle eyes.

“What is it?” She asks, a grin playing at her lips as she looks at you. “Come on, you don’t just ask me shit like that without a reason.”

“It’s for a final project,” you explain succinctly. No need to go into details.

“You’re making a rom-com for a final project?” Ruby sounds about as skeptical as you did when you spoke to Jungkook.

“It’s a mockumentary about rom-coms.”

“But… it’s a rom-com, right? Like, you’re going to be making a rom-com? Where people fall in love?”

Hopefully not.

“Sort of?”

Ruby squints her eyes, trying to process all the information. You’re not surprised that she has to take a moment to think—you are certainly the last person on earth to ever admit to filming a rom-com. But, as you’ve stated, it’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary about them. That distinction is vital.

“Wait, is this for that class with Pollack?” Ruby asks. “I remember you telling me you were taking it. You said this was a partner project, though, right? So who are you working with?”

Curse Ruby and her knack for remembering things. She’ll make a great doctor, that’s for sure, but right now you wish she would just forget things like everybody else.

You sigh. “Jungkook.”

Ruby doesn’t need to think twice about who that is. “Wait, seriously? You’re working with him? Isn’t he the guy that responds to all your discussion posts?”

“Yes,” you say, rubbing your temples with your fingertips. You don’t even like thinking about him, let alone saying his name. The fact that he has to occupy any part of your brain at all gives you a headache.

“Damn, that sucks,” Ruby says, not feeling very sorry for you at all. “So you’re filming a rom-com with him?”

“It’s a mockumentary,” you specify, feeling yourself getting irritated. “It is fake.”

“Just like my shows, huh?” Ruby muses to herself, too analytical for her own good.

“Listen, you don’t need to fall in love to make a mockumentary about it,” you say, refusing to consider any sort of alternative.

“Don’t you?”

You sneer. “Just shut up and eat your tiramisu.”

Ruby lets out a laugh at that, this wonderful mix between a wheeze and a honk that makes you smile every time you hear it, even if it’s at your own expense. Ruby decides she’s had enough of mentally torturing you with the thought of feeling anything but extreme distaste towards Jungkook and goes back to her show, letting you brood in peace.

You don’t need to fall in love to make a film about it. Just like you don’t need to be a masterchef to film Gordon Ramsey screaming at someone who undercooked chicken. You’re a filmmaker. You can make a film out of anything. Including love. Even if it is with someone like Jungkook.

Can’t you?

Jeon Jungkook may be a disillusioned college student in love with the idea of love itself, but at least he’s not too shabby of a filmmaker.

Funnily enough, it actually sort of surprises you that you’ve never encountered each other before. Especially considering you’re in the same major program at your school, a program that only accepts about fifty students per year at most. You suppose that in whatever general program classes you had to take in freshman and sophomore year you just never crossed paths. Plus, he’s a filmmaking concentration and you’re doing screenwriting, so it’s very possible that you would have just never spoken had the two of you not registered for the same semester of FILM395.

Huh. Imagine that. A life without him.

Sort of makes you wish you had put this class off for one more semester.

As the two of you kickstart your project, you both immediately agree that you need a third person’s help. You and Jungkook can do plenty, but you are only two people. And there’s nothing in the final project guidelines that says you can’t enlist other people to partake in the production. But you don’t need help with the filming and editing. You need help with the interviews.

“Is this bedsheet good enough?” Kim Taehyung, a senior in the film program, asks as he’s Command-stripping a queen-sized black bedsheet to an empty wall in the living room of his tiny one-bedroom apartment.

“As long as it fits into the frame,” Jungkook responds from where he’s standing behind the camera, set up on a tripod to capture a specific angle. “You’re not going to be in the shot anyway. You’ll just be asking the questions.”

“Good, because I look really ugly right now,” Taehyung says with a grin. You roll your eyes. Taehyung must know he always looks good. Even you can’t deny him of that.

“This is ridiculous,” you say, seated on the singular couch in his apartment. You’re leaning on your elbow as you watch Taehyung fiddle with the bedsheet and Jungkook futz with the camera, the two of them repositioning themselves over and over again until everything’s perfect. “What are you even gonna ask us?”

“I came up with some… preliminary questions,” Taehyung says suggestively. “But I haven’t told either of you what they are so that your reactions can be more genuine.”

“Great,” you deadpan.

“Wow, someone’s excited,” Jungkook comments snidely.

“I know we agreed on periodic interviews for the sake of the mockumentary but I don’t know why we have to be so… so serious about them,” you say with a frown.

“We have to promise to be honest with what we say, alright? Like, actually honest. This sets a guideline for the rest of our relationship,” Jungkook says like it’s no big deal. Like the foundation of your relationship isn’t the fact that the two of you have been engaged in discussion-board war ever since the semester began.

“Our ‘relationship’?” You say with a scoff.

“Do you promise?” Jungkook says.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I promise.” Whatever. “What do you even think is going to happen between us in the next few weeks?”

Jungkook smirks. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

You don’t like the sound of that.

Over the next ten minutes, Taehyung gets the sheet attached to his wall and pulls over two stools from his kitchen counters, old-timey wooden ones he got from a thrift store for five dollars a pop, one for him and one for the poor soul who has to be interviewed. You’ve agreed to do them separately but Taehyung’s apartment is only so big and you are only three people, which means that whoever isn’t being interviewed still has to be behind the camera, listening to the other person.

Makes you sort of nervous about whatever’s stewing up inside Jungkook’s mind. Wonder what the hell it is he’s plotting up there.

Once everything is settled, Taehyung looks at the two of you as he asks who’s going first.

You turn to Jungkook, who’s already grinning. “Ladies first.”

For someone who has spent their whole life watching and making movies, being in front of the camera feels weirdly uncomfortable to you. You’re so used to being behind it instead, directing others as they move around the frame, telling them how to feel and how to act and what to say, that having the spotlight shone on you is like picking through your thoughts with a fine-toothed comb.

You adjust awkwardly in the bar stool seat as Jungkook stands behind the camera, twisting the lens until he gives you the thumbs-up. Quite frankly, it doesn’t make you feel any better.

“You ready?” Taehyung asks as he takes a seat opposite you, just out of frame.

“Well, we’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”

“That’s the spirit. Alright, Jungkook, start whenever you’re good.”

“Okay,” Jungkook chirps up. “Three, two, one—” He points to the both of you.

“So, Y/N,” Taehyung begins, his voice suddenly much clearer. He sounds sort of like a news anchor. It’s oddly fitting. “Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You muse.

“That didn’t answer my question,” Taehyung points out. Good thing the camera can’t see the way his eyebrows raise.

“I suppose that there are worse things I could be doing,” you reason, which is about as good of an answer as Taehyung’s going to get. What was he expecting you to say? That you were thrilled to be filming this not-a-rom-com with your class nemesis? That you couldn’t wait to see what would happen?

“Loving the enthusiasm,” Taehyung jokes. You wonder what your classmates will think when they watch this back, hearing this unidentified deep male voice ask you and Jungkook questions about your relationship. “Let me ask you this: what’s your current relationship with Jungkook?”

“Uh…” you begin, nervous. Behind the camera, Jungkook has that same stupid, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. You sneer. “It’s… it’s professional.”

“Can you explain what you mean by that?”

“I mean we’re classmates. That’s the relationship.”

“That’s it?” You can hear the skepticism in Taehyung’s voice, almost like he’s egging you on to say something more.

“We’ve had some personal disagreements on topics discussed in class. But yes, we’re just classmates,” you elaborate slightly. It’s not as if anyone needs reminding of that, anyway. They all see your discussion board posts.

“And how do you expect that relationship to change over the course of this project?”

“I don’t think it’ll change at all.” It’s the easiest answer so far. Requires no energy nor brain power for you to think about it.

Taehyung nods his head in intrigue. “And why’s that?”

“Because this is a project for a class, not a life lesson.”

“Who says it can’t be both?”

You frown. “Whose side are you on?”

Five feet away, Jungkook laughs.

Taehyung chuckles. “Alright, moving on. What do you expect from Jungkook over the next few weeks as you start working on building your relationship?”

“I hope he becomes less unbearable,” you say, though you suppose that’s more of a general life goal than one that’s project-specific. But it would be nice if he became a little more… palatable. Just so you don’t have to feel the urge to sock him in the face every time you speak to each other.

“‘Less unbearable’, excellent,” Taehyung repeats. “Anything else?”

“Well,” you say with a shrug, not sure what else to say. What do you want from Jungkook? Obviously the two of you are about to embark on your own rom-com adventure, no doubt most of it his doing, but it’s hard to imagine that he himself (or you, for that matter) will change. If anything, the rom-com setting will just exacerbate the worst parts of both your personalities. Like some sort of curse. “I guess I just hope that the project goes smoothly.”

“I hope that it does, too,” Taehyung says with a smile. “Okay, last question.” Thank God. This interview couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it feels like an eternity to you. “Do you think you and Jungkook will fall in love at the end of this?”

“No.” You don’t leave any room for hesitation. “I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“We’re very different people with very different interests,” you explain succinctly. You’re sure Taehyung will grasp that once Jungkook has his turn and answers all the same questions. “He can try his hardest, but some things are just meant to stay the way they are.”

“Okay, thank you, Y/N, that’s all. I hope you found our conversation illuminating,” Taehyung says, his cue for the camera to stop rolling. You and Taehyung both turn to Jungkook, waiting for his signal, letting out a sigh when Jungkook gives you a thumbs-up.

“Thank fuck,” you say, hopping off of the barstool happily. You head towards the camera, ready to kick Jungkook off of it, because it’s your turn to stand behind it with an annoying look on your face as you react to every stupid thing Jungkook says. You find that you’re actually sort of looking forward to it. Being behind the camera is where you feel most at home. Making faces at Jungkook is just a bonus.

Jungkook’s still grinning that same goddamn grin when you approach him, making you narrow your eyes.

“‘He can try his hardest’?” Jungkook teases, voice all high-pitched to mimic yours. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Ah yes, my mission in life,” you retort easily. Maybe goading him on isn’t the best course of action, but you’re so confident that you won’t change your mind you find yourself actually anticipating his efforts. “Think you have what it takes?”

“Believe me, I do,” Jungkook says with a devilish glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes and kick him off the camera with a shove, pushing him towards Taehyung as he waits diligently on that chair of his.

“So, Jungkook, same questions,” Taehyung says as Jungkook gets ready in his seat, fixing the blonde strands of hair that curl around the side of his face, framing his cheeks.

“What? That’s no fair, he got to think about all his answers,” you exclaim, positively indignant.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Jungkook says, voice sickly smooth, honey falling off his lips. “I’ve actually been thinking about the two of us for a long time.”

You pretend to throw up on Taehyung’s hardwood floor.

As Taehyung promised, he asks Jungkook the same questions. And, as predicted, his answers about as far away from yours as the sun is from Pluto:

“Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”

Jungkook grins. “Yes, definitely. I actually took this class after hearing from a friend that the final project was a lot of fun.”

Taehyung beams. That friend was him. No wonder he was so happy to sign onto helping the two of you.

“And how would you describe your current relationship with Y/N?”

“We’re soon-to-be-lovers.”

“How forward of you.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

You have to stop yourself from bursting out into laughter behind the camera and ruining the interview. At least he’s not hiding anything. You’ll give him that.

“So I suppose you expect the two of you to fall in love over the course of the project?”

“Yes, that’s going to happen.”

“And you seem pretty confident when you say that.”

Jungkook smirks as he turns to the camera. Or, more accurately, you. “Confidence is attractive.”

You shake your head back at him.

The rest of the interview falls pretty much into the same vein as the first few questions. Jungkook is so brazenly determined and hopeful and optimistic it actually pains you in a way, watching him make all of these promises both to you and himself that this project is going to turn out the way he hopes it does. His answers remind you of his discussion board posts, always looking on the bright side of every movie you watch, always finding the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel. A movie could be total Hollywood crap, filled with cheating scandals and misunderstandings and betrayals, and Jungkook could still find beauty in it.

It’s strange.

For the sake of you not actually throwing up in Taehyung’s lovely apartment, you tune out the majority of the middle of the conversation, having zero desire to listen to Jungkook wax poetic about your non-existent relationship like he’s saying his wedding vows. Only when Taehyung finally remarks that they’re on the last question do you finally come to again, ready to turn the camera off as soon as Jungkook finishes his answer.

“Jungkook, do you think you and Y/N will fall in love at the end of this?”

“I do.” Wow, what a shocker. “I do, because I hope that by the end of this Y/N will have opened her eyes to the beauty of love, and will find joy in the feeling as something that makes her feel happy and warm. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure the things we do together are meaningful. And even if we don’t last, I hope that her memories of us together will be ones she can look back upon fondly and be grateful for.”

You purse your lips together. If only it were that easy.

“Alright, cut,” you say, voice distant as Jungkook thanks Taehyung for his time and hops off the bar stool. “Thanks, Tae.”

“Anytime, you guys,” Taehyung says with a grin.

Jungkook comes over to where you’re standing, possibly to grab his camera and tripod but most definitely to rub his obnoxious personality all up in your face.

“You really think you’re gonna get me to fall in love with you, huh?” You muse, an eyebrow raised as you look up at him. “Just so you can prove a point?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N, but I actually think that all people deserve the chance to experience love and that happens to include you, as well,” Jungkook responds easily.

The words put a sour taste in your mouth. “You think I deserve it, huh?”

Jungkook nods, face solemn as he looks at you, gazing into your eyes with those big brown ones of his own. It makes you feel something unfamiliar. Like he’s reading right through your chest, into your heart. You don’t like it. “Everyone deserves love.”

“You guys are coming back, right? So I can leave the sheet up?” Taehyung interrupts after he’s moved both of his bar stools back to his kitchen counter.

“Yeah, we’ll be back,” Jungkook answers quickly. “Thanks for setting everything up, by the way.”

“Of course. Plus, this is a good background for my nudes,” Taehyung says casually, like he’s mentioning what he’s having for dinner. “Looking forward to seeing you guys again.”

“Us, too,” Jungkook says. “Ready to go?”

“Only because it means I don’t have to see you anymore,” you retort pointedly, grabbing your backpack from where it sits on his couch as you head towards the door.

“Just you wait, Y/N,” Jungkook says as you leave Taehyung’s building, one of those old-timey Victorian houses that was converted into a whole bunch of apartments. “You’re gonna see that I’m right.”

“Really? About what?”

“About us,” Jungkook says. You come to the stoplight, where Jungkook keeps going straight and you turn right.

“Us?”

Jungkook grins as you turn in the direction of your own apartment. And, just as the light turns green, he says, “Just you wait. We’re gonna fall in love, you and me.”

If he says so.

“Hey! Y/N!”

You whip your head around at the sound of your name just as you’re opening the door to your local Starbucks, wondering who the hell is calling out to you at nine-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday.

As it turns out, you don’t have to wonder too much, because the moment your eyes adjust to the blinding sunlight coming from the east side of campus you see Jungkook hurtling towards you, heavy black boots stomping down on the pavement as he rushes to catch up with you.

“Can I help you?” You ask, thoroughly unimpressed, as you pull open the door, looking at Jungkook heaving beside you as he holds the door open for himself.

“Just glad I caught you,” Jungkook gasps out between breaths. “Figured this might make a good scene for the movie.”

“It’s a mockumentary,” you remind him easily, getting in the line.

“Whatever,” Jungkook says. “What do you normally get here? I don’t really go to Starbucks often.”

“Whatever will give me the most caffeine for the least amount of money,” you retort.

“How efficient,” Jungkook comments.

“You know that’s how I like to be,” you tell him with a pointed look.

Jungkook mumbles his acknowledgement as he fumbles around in his backpack, fishing through the large pocket until he whips out his Canon, holding it out in front of him like he’s a dad about to film an embarrassing shot of his child. You look down at the camera just as he pans up to you, a confused frown written across your features. Jungkook laughs.

“Do you really need to do that here?”

“I’m not even filming,” Jungkook says with a smile, like he just pulled his camera out so he could look at your unimpressed face through a different lens. “Look, you’re up.”

You turn around to find that the woman ahead of you in line has just moved towards the pick-up side of the counter, so you shimmy over towards the barista, ready to get this over with so you can dart out of the Starbucks as soon as possible.

“Just a grande Americano, please,” you request simply, fingers grasping for the wallet inside your coat pocket.

“Me too,” Jungkook chirps up from behind you. The closeness of his voice makes you jump, and suddenly you become keenly cognizant of how he’s practically pressed up next to you as he leans over towards the counter. You catch a glimpse of the debit card in his hand. “Here.”

“You don’t have to pay for me, it’s fine,” you quickly say, holding out your own card to the barista.

“No, it’s okay, I want to. Here.” Jungkook pushes your hand away as he tries to stuff his card into the reader.

“No, I won’t let you. I’m a big girl, I can pay for my own coffee,” you rebuke, feeling yourself growing oddly defensive.

Jungkook sighs from behind you. “Oh, come on, you can’t let me do one nice thing for you?”

“Will one of you please pay, you’re holding up the line,” the barista asks in a desperate tone, clearly too overworked and too underpaid to be dealing with two bratty college students like yourselves.

Jungkook manages to shove his card into the reader before you get the chance to do it yourself, pushing you to the side as he verifies all of his information and takes his receipt. Next to him, you seethe to yourself, feeling a personal loss even though you just got your coffee paid for. It’s not about the money. It’s about your pride. Never in your life have you wanted to so badly pay for an overpriced Starbucks coffee.

You and Jungkook mosey over to the other side of the counter, waiting for your identical drinks to be made as you try and calculate how much longer you have to stand in the same room and breathe the same air as Jungkook. Seeing him in class, on your discussion board posts, and for your arranged final project meetings apparently isn’t enough, so now he has to invade your personal life, too.

“What are you doing?” You huff out angrily, turning to Jungkook even as he holds his camera out in front of him, filming the Starbucks.

“Recording our first meeting, obviously,” Jungkook says like it’s some kind of no-brainer. Like you were in on that from the moment he called your name out on the street.

“What do you mean, ‘our first meeting’?” You scrunch up your nose in confusion. “We’ve known each other since the semester started.”

“I know, but…” Jungkook trails off unhelpfully, but you pick up what he’s putting down regardless. Right. This is supposed to be a mockumentary rom-com. And rom-coms always start with an introduction.

The barista behind the counter calls out Jungkook’s name as he places two same-sized cups down at the pick-up station. The cup is burning hot, even with the little cardboard holder wrapped around it like a leg warmer, so you immediately move over to the station up against the wall with all of the sugar packets and napkins and little green splash sticks. Jungkook joins you without question, whether it be due to the fact that he doesn’t come here very often or because he just wants to keep invading your space, you couldn’t say. Grabbing one of the wooden sticks, you tug the plastic lid off of the cup and give the coffee a swirl. Watching you, Jungkook takes the lid off of his as well.

“Are you just going to copy everything I do?” You deadpan.

“Not everything…” Jungkook trails off suspiciously, looking down into his coffee like the two of them are conspiring something.

“What are you talki—”

Without warning, Jungkook slams half of his body into you, and without a lid or one of those little green sticks, the coffee sploshes over the side of his cup and drenches the front of your exposed hoodie, hot liquid burning through the fabric of the hoodie and the t-shirt you have on underneath. You watch in horror as Jungkook plays it off like an accident, feet fumbling around on the hardwood floor like he had just tripped. But he didn’t just trip. He dumped half of his Americano onto the both of your fronts.

“Jungkook!” You say instantly, resisting the urge to scream because you’re in a public place but feeling your skin go as hot as the coffee against your torso as you look up at him, fuming.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz,” Jungkook says, somehow able to regain his balance, hold his coffee cup, and film the whole adventure all at the same time. “That was totally my fault, let me help you with that.”

The camera is from his perspective, which you suppose is about as real as it gets for something grounded in reality like a mockumentary, but in this position he’s able to make conversation with his eyes, big brown ones wide as he tries to signify what exactly he means when he purposely spills coffee all over the two of you.

You get it. You’ve seen enough rom-coms to know why he just did what he did, but you still find your mouth agape as you stare up at him, smoldering and angry and a little shocked he would dare be so bold, especially in the middle of a Starbucks coffee shop.

“For God’s sake,” you say with an exhausted sigh despite it not even being ten in the morning yet. Unable to form any other comprehensible words, you settle for just pulling out napkins from the dispenser and dabbing the front of your hoodie as Jungkook looks at you apologetically. You can’t even tell if he’s truly sorry or just putting on another one of his shows.

“I feel so bad,” Jungkook says, and you calm yourself down enough to nod. At least he isn’t blatantly laughing. “Can I pay for dry cleaning?”

“You’re really gonna offer to pay for my dry cleaning?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

“It was my fault,” Jungkook admits. Now that you can agree on.

You shake your head. “It’s okay. It’s just an old hoodie, it’s no big deal.”

“I’m still sorry,” Jungkook insists, and the more he says it the more you actually find yourself starting to believe him. Even if he did just spill coffee all over you. “Here, let me give you my jacket—”

“That’s not necessary,” you say as he shrugs off his backpack and begins to remove the bulky denim jacket he’s wearing, fabric worn and soft from years of use. “Seriously, it’s okay, it’s just a hoodie.”

“Yeah, but now you have coffee all over your clothes and you probably have class soon, right?” He says, an apologetic smile lacing his lips. He tugs off his jacket and holds it out towards you.

“Jungkook, I’m fine, alright? I appreciate your concern, though,” you assure him. You throw away the last of the coffee-stained napkins in your hands and reach down for your backpack, which you had taken off your shoulders somewhere in the chaos.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, almost as if he was expecting resistance, and leans over you anyway. His arms extend outwards as he wraps his enormous denim jacket over your shoulders, the fabric draping loosely over your body. The damn thing was big on him, so on you it practically eats you up. You stand there, silent, as Jungkook adjusts the jacket on your torso, pulling underneath the hood of your sweatshirt as he makes sure it’s snug across your figure.

“There,” Jungkook says.

“Thanks,” you say, a half grin playing on your lips. The gesture makes you wonder if Jungkook really was planning on giving up his jacket this early in the morning for the sake of your movie. “That’s nice of you.”

“I hope it makes up for the fact that you smell like coffee now,” Jungkook says, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck.

“I appreciate it,” you say.

“I have class, too, so I have to go,” Jungkook says, hoisting his backpack on his shoulders as he tucks his camera away. “I’m sorry again! See you around?”

Like you even have a choice.

“Yeah, see you around,” you say as Jungkook darts off just as quickly as he arrived, rushing out the door before you have the chance to change your mind and give him his jacket back.

When he leaves you, you find yourself at a loss for words. You stand there, lips pursed, coffee cold, as the weight of his jacket rests heavy on your shoulders.

It smells like him.

You should have known he would do something like this. Spill coffee all over the two of you, offer you his jacket, dash off like Cinderella at midnight. Like the opening of the world’s worst rom-com. The start of what is no doubt going to be the most unbearable final project you have ever done.

Plus, the other thing it’s ensured is a second meeting. How else is he going to get his jacket back?

And you know what the worst part is?

This is only the beginning.

This time after FILM395 ends lecture for the day, it’s your turn to catch Jungkook lounging around after class.

He’s lingering around the outside of the building, scrolling through his phone, a heavy leather jacket resting over a flannel that goes down to his knees and a baseball cap sitting firmly on his tuft of blonde hair. He’s obviously not paying attention to any of his surroundings whatsoever, because he doesn’t even notice you exiting out of the door he’s standing by until you say his name.

“Jungkook,” you say, arriving in front of him.

“Wha—oh, hi,” Jungkook says, jumping at the suddenness of it all.

“Here,” you say, holding out his oversized denim jacket in between the two of you. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to give it back so soon,” Jungkook says, looking a little surprised and… is he touched?

“I was going to give it to you a couple days ago but I thought I should give it a wash first,” you admit to him.

Instinctively, Jungkook brings the jacket up to his nose to sniff it. “Smells like lavender.”

“Yeah, it’s my detergent. Hope you don’t mind. It’s a little wrinkled—I let it air dry since I was worried it might shrink in the dryer.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, a genuine smile lacing itself across his features. It’s not one you see too often, and definitely not the kind of smile he usually flashes in your direction. Those are all so obnoxious, so full of himself. This one’s different. It’s appreciative. Kinder. Softer. In a lot of ways. “I was thinking, if you don’t have class now, do you wanna grab some coffee?”

You narrow your eyes. “Only if you promise not to spill it on me this time.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. “Okay, I got it. I won’t spill it on you.”

“Promise?” You prompt.

“Promise.”

The walk to Starbucks this time is in relative silence, but neither of you seems to mind it very much. You aren’t dashing to catch up with each other and heaving snarky comments as you catch your breath. Jungkook even notices you shiver in the cool March breeze and wraps his jacket around you again anyway, although this time you make a mental note to make sure he doesn’t leave without it. Even though a lavender scent wafts off of the denim, it still smells a little bit like him. That boyish sort of aroma. You don’t think any detergent would ever be able to get rid of that.

You and Jungkook both get americanos again because you’re predictable and creatures of habit, and Jungkook actually seems to quite like them. He pays and you don’t spend two minutes standing in front of the barista fighting over it. Jungkook seems so determined to pay the extra four dollars for your drink that you aren’t sure if it’s really worth arguing over it for the sake of pride anymore. What you and Jungkook put into making this project a success is what you’re going to get out of it.

He picks one of the longer tables in the back of the study space, empty because it’s just after the lunchtime rush and most people have classes now, sets up the camera at one end, and you sit down at the other.

“So,” you begin, not sure where to start because your coffee is too hot to take a sip from it.

“So,” Jungkook echoes.

Silence.

You purse your lips in that awkward, I-don’t-know-what-to-say kind of way. “What do you want to do?”

Jungkook grins. “This is the part where we get to know each other.”

“We already know each other.” You frown.

“Do we?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised. “I mean, yeah, I guess we aren’t strangers, but I don’t know anything about you. Other than you’re a film major in a rom-com class who hates rom-coms.”

“I don’t hate rom-coms,” you object. “I just think it’s important to look at them from a critical lens.”

“Okay, whatever,” Jungkook says, shrugging you off. “The point is that we don’t know anything else about each other. Like, what’s your favorite color, for example?”

“Purple.” It’s an easy answer. You wore purple princess dresses when you were five, painted your bedroom lilac when you were ten, and still make sure to keep a purple highlighter in your pencil case now. “What’s yours?”

“Red,” Jungkook responds.

“Cool,” you say, effectively ending the rest of the conversation.

Jungkook, sensing that same awkward silence, suggests something. “How about you ask me something now? We can go back and forth.”

You shrug. It’s not like you have anything better to do. “Alright.” You think for a moment, but then you have the perfect question. “Why film?”

Jungkook was clearly not expecting something so loaded, because his brows furrow, knitting themselves together as he begins to figure out a good enough answer. “Hmm,” he says, lost deep in thought. “I suppose the standard answer would be that I’ve always been interested in it, but I think I chose film because I want to be able to have the gift to tell other people’s stories. Being a filmmaker doesn’t just mean you stand behind a camera. It means you immerse yourself in the lives of other people to create something new. And… I don’t know. I guess I really like doing that.”

You nod.

For once, you understand him. Understand why he chose to major in film, why he chose to be in this tiny little program. Because there is so much out there, so much that you will never know, people you will never meet and things you will never see. And it’s a filmmaker’s job to make them turn into things you will see, people you will meet. Who knows the world better than the people who study it? The people who have devoted their lives to learning all its secrets?

“What about you?”

“Same as you,” you tell him. “Film is an art but it’s more than that to me. It’s a new way to look at the world. It’s several new ways to look at the world, depending on what kind of film you want to create and what kind of story you want to tell. I think it’s important to show people that all of the things they see in the media every day are not always reality. And that real people deserve to have their stories told, too. I don’t know. That’s what I think.”

Jungkook grins, a twinkle in his eyes. “Real people like us?”

“This project is different,” you insist.

“I don’t think it is,” Jungkook says. “You said it yourself, we’re making this because it’s important to show people that the Hollywood entertainment they consume is not reality. This is. This is reality.”

You frown, kicking yourself in the shin because what was supposed to be a harmless conversation has now turned into an opportunity for Jungkook to try and convince you that you will, in fact, fall in love with him. You’ve dug your own grave and Jungkook was the one who handed you the shovel.

“You’re not giving up, are you?” You say, shaking your head, flabbergasted. “Reality is the fact that this project is not going to make me fall in love with you. Nothing is.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Jungkook warns. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“You mean like spilling burning hot coffee all over me?” You ask, an eyebrow raised, a grudge still held.

“We had to start somewhere,” Jungkook defends. “And you seemed to understand what I was doing pretty quickly.”

“It’s not the worst thing someone’s done to me,” you concede, only slightly. “Besides, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but throwing hot coffee all over me is not really a good way to start off your plan to get me to fall in love with you.”

Jungkook smiles. “All in due time, Y/N. All in due time.”

“I can’t believe Pollack actually paired us up together,” you say with a sigh. “You know she did it on purpose.”

“Of course she did.” It’s not really a surprise to either of you.

“I met with her right after she announced our partners,” you tell him, “she said it was because she wanted to see what kind of project we would come up with. How we would address our… differing views on love.” That’s one way of putting it. A rather nice way, if you do say so yourself.

“Speaking of which,” Jungkook says, something suddenly flashing through his mind, “what do you really think about love? You know, other than it’s unrealistic and ruins people’s lives.”

“You make me sound like Ebeneezer Scrooge.” You frown at him.

“I’m serious,” insists Jungkook. “Why are you so pessimistic about it? Have you ever been in love? Have you had bad experiences? You couldn’t have just developed this worldview over time.”

You scowl, feeling yourself getting defensive. “Well, maybe I did. Maybe that’s just what I think. Why do you care?”

“Because people don’t just hate love for no reason,” Jungkook exclaims. “Come on, there must be something.”

Your body stiffens. Who is he to be asking you this sort of shit? Why does he care so much? It’s not like it will have any effect on the outcome of your project. Not like you explaining yourself will change the way either of you look at the world.

“What’s it to you?” You challenge. “Why do you love love so much? Have you ever fallen in love? Do you think it’s suddenly going to solve all of your problems?”

“I love it because I think it brings people real joy,” Jungkook answers simply. “It makes people happy and it’s beautiful. I love love and I’m not ashamed to say that out loud. I believe in it. I believe in love, and in destiny, and in soulmates. I want that. I think everyone deserves it.”

You scoff to yourself. “You believe in soulmates?”

“I think we all have our people out there.” Jungkook nods. “Don’t you?”

You roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. This conversation has gone nowhere, and Jungkook looks as equally dissatisfied as you do.

“I think love can make us do stupid things,” you tell him succinctly, if a little jaded. No need to say anything else. Your explanation is right there. “We’re just different, I guess. You and I.”

Jungkook blinks at you, eyes wide and a little desperate. Your conversation has remained stagnant and there’s almost nothing left to say.

Almost.

“Don’t you ever want to fall in love?” He asks, like it’s a last-ditch effort to get you to believe.

You freeze. Let the words sink in for a moment. Before you push them out the door and toss them into the garbage. Just thinking about it gives you a headache. Puts a sour taste in your mouth.

Quickly, you push yourself out of your chair and stand up, grabbing your coffee with one hand and your backpack with the other. “I have to go, sorry. I just remembered I’m meeting up with a friend to help her with a photography shoot,” you fumble out quickly, the legs of the chair screeching as you scoot them across the hardwood floor. “Oh, here’s your jacket, too. Thanks for giving it to me again. I’ll see you in class.”

You whip around and head towards the exit, and only when you’re outside of the Starbucks and passing by the window do you dare look back. Do you dare let your gaze drift back to Jungkook, who is sitting there like he still doesn’t understand you. Still can’t.

You and Jungkook are final project partners and maybe, if you’re pushing it, acquaintances-slash-friends. But there are just some things better kept to yourself.

We’re reaching the halfway point in this semester and, as you all know, I don’t do midterms. That said, I still want you to reflect on what you’ve learned, discovered, and thought about thus far in this class. What portrayal of love did you find the most realistic? The least? How have they changed the way you think about love, both from a personal and a film perspective?

Y/N Y/N on March 3rd at 6:08PM

Purely from a film perspective, I really did enjoy watching Juno. It was funny and raunchy and just the right amount of vulnerable. It certainly felt the most real. So far, no film in this class has topped it for me. 500 Days of Summer, on the other hand, was in my opinion extremely unsatisfying and left no positive impression. The ending was a bore and Tom had absolutely no spine. It was a shame, because the direction and production was actually quite good.

I guess I’m starting to realize how real love is not pretty. It can make people just as sad as it can make them happy. Why don’t we show the sad sides of love, too? The sides where your room is covered with a pile of clothes because you can’t bring yourself to do the laundry? Where you cannot cook a meal because it reminds you of a breakup? Rom-coms are, obviously, not the most realistic. But why are there not more films that do cover what’s real? How can we love love if all we know is a lie?

Jeon Jungkook on March 3rd at 11:13PM

Of course, I thought The Big Sick did an excellent job of their portrayal of love, adult life, and the problems that plague us all in the twenty-first century. It was also just as emotional and touched on concepts of race, illness, and being in your twenties and having no idea what direction your life is going in. The Princess Bride, on the other hand, as much as I love it, I do think created a more circumstantial kind of love. Westley and Buttercup mostly fall in love because of their situations. But it remains a classic nonetheless.

I’m satisfied with the way the film industry has produced rom-coms and handles love. The beauty of it is that love is different for every person who goes through it. It can bring the greatest joy and the most painful sorrow. We do not just figure out what love is by what we see on film. We see it in our real lives, in our parents, in our friends, in couples in coffee shops and cars and on sidewalks. We can love love because we want that joy for ourselves. Because we know that true love will be worth any heartbreak we endure. Is it not impossible for the portrayals of love in these rom-coms to not be real? The way everyone experiences it is different. The only way you can know what real love is, and what it is not, is if you fall in love yourself.

Early on in your project development, you and Jungkook exchanged class schedules to optimize your productivity and skip over that stupid, terrible part of partner projects where you’re just going back and forth trying to pick a time that works for the both of you until you eventually settle on something ridiculous like eleven o’clock at night outside of the McDonald’s two blocks off of campus.

It’s been working very well. Neither of you have adventurous-enough friends to invite you out on spontaneous picnics and restaurant dates that fuck with your pre-scheduled meeting times, and Jungkook already seems to have mastered the art of screaming your name when he catches you on the sidewalk so that you can film something.

In fact, you’re actually beginning to wonder why you haven’t done this with all of your long-term partner projects. Send each other your schedules so that you can settle on a time in advance. No muss, no fuss.

You and Jungkook are supposed to meet up again tonight, after the two of you are finished with all of your classes, to discuss what scenes you should be filming next. Edited down, you’ve already got about ten minutes worth of footage, but it’s mid-March and the project is due at the end of April. So you need to get this show on the road.

The door slams shut behind you as you exit the business building, your film industry class having just ended a minute ago. You’ve got an hour to kill before your next class, just enough time to dash to the food court in the center of campus and grab something from the Japanese place in the back corner. You might even have time to browse the shelves in the bookstore if you’re fast enough.

You round the corner to the main pathway through campus when a voice stops you in your tracks.

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

It’s not Jungkook. Instead, in the middle of the walkway are the Eighth Notes, one of the fifteen-thousand (you don’t know for sure, but if you had to estimate) acapella groups on campus. They’ve got mic stands and a table set up and everything. Maybe they’re promoting an upcoming show…?

You almost breeze right by when one of them, the one in the middle of the group, points right at you, a lopsided grin lacing his features. You aren’t one to normally stop in the middle of a crowded footpath, but when, one after another, all six of the boys start pointing at you, you have no choice.

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

Their voices are smooth like honey, warm and deep, romancing you through their mics as each one of them suddenly manifests a rose from behind them. Around you, people are starting to stare, gawking at you as they walk by. There’s even a small crowd starting to gather, and you swear you can see some people filming on their phones. The fact that this is happening in the busiest ten minutes of the day, as half the student body is walking from one class to another, isn’t helping. At all.

The rest of them singing in the background, each one steps out from behind the set of microphones to hand you the rose, smiling their classic, old-timey smiles like those old jazz singers from the 1960s, until you’ve got half a dozen in your hands as they continue to sing.

“But if you feel like I feel…”

“Please let me know that it’s real…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

And then, suddenly, all of them are shutting their traps and turning to the left, looking down the pathway as the song begins again, but from one-hundred feet away.

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”

Your mouth drops. At the other end of the walkway is Jungkook, one of those wireless microphones in his hand, grinning as he saunters down the path like a prince at a ball, voice sweet and thick as the words dance off of his lips.

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

Your eyes lock from opposite ends of the path, Jungkook stepping closer with every beat the Eighth Notes gives him. It sort of feels like your impending doom and a wedding proposal, all at once. By now a rather substantial audience has gathered, lining the walkway with their phones out, filming Jungkook as he waltzes past them, occasionally turning to capture your gobsmacked expression.

Every step that Jungkook takes makes your heart race something fierce, cheeks warming in embarrassment, trapped in your least favorite thing in the entire world: a public serenade. You can’t really do anything except look at him in shock, feeling his steady gaze resting firmly on your figure, looking right at you. Into you.

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

Jungkook, on the other hand, is clearly relishing in this. In the spotlight. In the music. Or maybe just in the fact that you’re on the receiving end of his over-the-top advances. His grin is wide as he takes those last few steps, microphone gripped neatly in his hand, the lyrics warm and weighty as they tumble from his lips.

“And let me love you, baby…”

One final step and he’s right in front of you, staring into your eyes, letting himself bask in the look on your face. He produces a rose himself—cherry red, like his favorite color—and holds it out in between the two of you. In the background, the Eighth Notes go quiet, leaving Jungkook on his own for the final line.

“Let me love you…”

The words drift above your heads, disappearing into the sky as he lingers on them, on that last note, beaming down at you. He looks at you, so hopeful, so happy, so endeared, and what else can you do? What else, besides taking the rose from his hand and smiling back up at him? Who are you to deny him of that?

The crowd around you cheers when you do, applauding both Jungkook and the Eighth Notes, with whom he is apparently in cahoots, before they all decide that they ought to get on with their day and head to class. No doubt you’ll be on several dozen Instagram stories by nightfall.

Only after everyone has dispersed do you notice Taehyung, who must have been here since the beginning, because he’s just turning off the camera dangling from his neck. Of course Jungkook got him to film. Other than your project, what else would this be for?

“Is that the best you can do, Jungkook?” You smirk up at him, only saying this because you can’t have him knowing that you actually kind of enjoyed it.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Jungkook responds easily. “Thought I would do something spontaneous.”

“And now you’ve taken up ten minutes of my lunch,” you say, shaking your head to yourself. “How spontaneous, indeed.”

“How was that, Jungkook?”

Behind the two of you, the Eighth Notes are packing up, clearly more than happy to have aided Jungkook on his quest for so-called love and getting to promote their group in the process.

“Great, thank you so much, Jimin,” Jungkook says to the one in the middle, the very first one to sing when you walked out of the door.

“Anytime, dude. Glad we could help,” Jimin responds. He waves hi to Taehyung, too, as they store their microphones and go on their way.

Jungkook bids them goodbye as they head down the path, smiling at all of them before he turns back to you, notices the distant, faraway look in your eyes as you twirl the rose between your fingers, press it to your nose to pick up its scent.

“You gotta admit, I’m a pretty good singer, eh?” Jungkook says with a nudge to your shoulder.

“You’re alright.”

Jungkook laughs to himself. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get a big head,” you warn.

“Think I’ll have to sing for you more, now, hmm? Since you liked it so much?” He suggests, eyebrows wiggling.

You roll your eyes. “Only if you can get Jimin and the Eighth Notes to back you up, again. Then maybe I’ll allow it.”

Jungkook grins. He’s far past the point of being deterred by your deadpan comments. If anything, they only encourage him more. But you, for obvious reasons, cannot give in. At least, not yet, anyway.

“Okay, go eat your lunch,” he says, nodding as you begin to part ways. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

You smile. “Okay. See you.”

“See you, too.”

The moment you get back to your apartment you put all seven roses in an old vase filled with water. They brighten up your bedroom instantly, soft scent freshening up the air. And when you go to bed that night, it is to Jungkook’s sweet, delicate voice, like walking on clouds, like satin and silk, that you fall asleep.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Jungkook greets like always, smiling at you as you walk in the door for FILM395.

“Good morning, Jungkook,” you say in response.

Then, you take a seat right next to him.

It’s an act that clearly catches everyone off guard, if the bewildered looks of your fellow classmates and Jungkook’s confused expression are anything to go by. Even Pollack, when she walks through the door, gets a bit of a shock, eyes widening when she sees the two of you seated next to each other.

You suppose all the fuss is understandable. After all, you both sort of hate each other.

Other than the sudden change in seating arrangement, however, the rest of the class goes off without much issue. Pollack lectures for an hour before you move into discussion, at which point it becomes a class participation free-for-all, with you and Jungkook almost definitely in the lead. Just because you’re now sitting next to each other doesn’t mean either of you are suddenly going to stop raising your hands to rebuke each other’s points. Some things never change.

Sitting next to Jungkook is not as bad as you thought it would be. For one, he is, for the most part, a rather diligent student. Other than his occasional flicks to his email, an essay he’s working on, or your discussion board, he mostly sits and takes notes and doesn’t do anything else. That, you can at least give him credit for. And even though your elbows almost always nearly crash into each other’s when you’re raising your hands to respond to a point Pollack’s made, discussion isn’t so bad either.

One of the perks of sitting directly beside each other is that whenever he says something stupid, or saccharine, or just overly unrealistic, you don’t have to just roll your eyes from the back of the classroom while you wait to be called on. You also get to kick his foot with your own, nudge your elbow into his side. And he does the same to you. You and Jungkook are like those neighbors in sitcoms that spend all their free time shouting at each other from opposite windows. Just because your seats have gotten closer doesn’t mean your viewpoints have.

A notification pops up on your laptop.

[March 17th, 11:05AM]

Jungkook: wanna meet at the tables outside after class?

You look over at Jungkook with a frown.

You: Why are you texting me? We’re sitting right next to each other

Jungkook: because we’re in class obvs Jungkook: dont wanna be disruptive

You: Since when has that ever stopped you before?

Jungkook: haha very funny Jungkook: tables sound good?

You: Only since you asked so nicely :)

Jungkook: thoughtful as always i see

After class, you and Jungkook both hang around, waiting for each other to pack up your belongings so you can walk to the tables together. Everyone else seems to sense this weird, uncomfortable tension in the room, because they all book it out of the door much faster than either of you do. You’re almost convinced Jungkook purposely takes extra time to zip his backpack, just because.

The tables are, as per usual, empty. But you don’t have a pile of receipts to spread out, this time. You and Jungkook take a seat at one of them as you pull out your laptops, ready to outline the rest of the project.

“We should probably meet with Taehyung a couple more times, too,” you suggest as you begin to brainstorm.

“Sounds good,” Jungkook agrees. “But we can’t meet at night on weekdays anymore. My dance group’s show is coming up and we have practice then.”

You stop typing and turn to him. “I didn’t know you were in a dance group.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I don’t really talk about it that much.”

“You should.”

He looks up at you at that, eyes wide as he faces you.

“I don’t know, it seems like something you should be passionate about,” you say. In the same way that you promote the Film Club to every freshman you know, force all your friends to mark that they’re Interested in your event pages on Facebook. Jungkook should want to tell everyone about his dance group. Doesn’t he love it? Isn’t he proud to be in it?

Jungkook doesn’t look like he knows what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything at all.

“We can meet on weekends too,” you say, adjusting to his new change of schedule easily. “This project isn’t as all-consuming as I thought it would be.”

“You mean I’m not as all-consuming as you thought I would be,” Jungkook corrects.

You shake your head. “No, you are.” He laughs. “But yeah, on weekends is fine. You know my schedule. What else should we do, besides talk to Taehyung?”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off above Jungkook’s head. “Let’s go on a date.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.”

“What do you mean, “no”? It’s the natural progression of our relationship! It’s the next step in the rom-com! We have to,” Jungkook insists.

“First of all, it’s a mockumentary, not a rom-com,” you say with a sigh, finding yourself having to correct him rather frequently. “Secondly, we are not in a relationship. I am not dating you and you are not dating me.”

“Okay, but at this point in rom-coms the two leads would definitely go on a date,” Jungkook says, punctuating every word for emphasis. “What’s the harm? It’s not like you’re committing yourself to a future with me.”

“Thank God,” you mutter.

“Oh, shut up. You probably haven’t been on a date in years, anyway. Why not spend a night out?”

You frown at that. “Who cares if I have or have not been on a date?” Why does Jungkook care so much about the history of your love life? He’s always saying stuff like this, always telling you things as if you’ve never been in a relationship at all, don’t know left from right, black from white. Who is he to be making those assumptions?

“Please, Y/N,” Jungkook begs, looking desperate. “Just one evening. And then if it really goes terribly and you end up hating me again, then we don’t have to do another one.”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. Well, what else are you going to do? You don’t have any other ideas. And you’ve already spent so much time with Jungkook this semester, what’s another evening? Just something else to cross off of your list of things to film. Maybe you can get him to take a cute photo of you to post on social media.

“Fine,” you concede. “One date. And I still hate you, by the way.”

Jungkook clearly does not believe you. “Really? You still hate me? I’m sure you do.”

“Okay, I don’t hate you. But still,” you relent again. Perhaps you’re just being oddly soft today. Too lenient for your own good.

Jungkook grins, cheeks little round circles as his lips curve up. “I know you like me. You just can’t admit it to yourself, can you? Can’t take that blow to your dignity.”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” you chide.

“Who knows?” Jungkook tacks on, just to be extra annoying. “Maybe you’re actually starting to fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “You wish.”

“Well, are you?”

Jungkook doesn’t ask the question the same way he’s asked all of the other ones. Doesn’t say it with a shit-eating grin on his face or that glint in his eyes. He’s asking because he’s curious. Curious if what he’s been doing has been working. Curious if this project is really accomplishing anything at all.

Funnily enough, you find yourself wondering the exact same thing.

Silent, you pausing for a moment to think, chewing on the inside of your lip. Jungkook’s looking back at you, lips curled upwards as he waits for a response. Ugh, you’ll just have to give it up. What else can you say? “I guess…” you begin, hesitating.

You aren’t sure why you’re so scared to respond. Maybe you’re just worried that things will change if you say something. If you tell him the truth.

But it’s just Jungkook. He’s sitting in front of you patiently, waiting for your answer. What could happen?

You confess. “I guess you’re not so bad after all.”

Even though this is not the first time you’ve ever been out on a “date” (you’re using that word tentatively), picking out what to wear isn’t any easier than the last time.

“Is black too, you know, sexy?”

Ruby shrugs on the other end of the video call. Her phone is propped up on her desk as she works on something on her laptop, glancing over every now and then whenever you prompt her to respond. “Well, that depends. Do you wanna fuck?”

“No.”

“Then it might be too sexy,” Ruby says easily. “What are you even doing? I thought you didn’t go out on dates.”

“It’s not a date,” you insist, although you’re not exactly sure which of the two of you you’re trying to convince.

“You’re asking me what kind of sexy dress to wear for a night out with a guy. It’s a date,” Ruby reminds you, economical as always. “Who are you even going out with, anyway? You just called and asked me to pick between two dresses I have literally never seen you wear before.”

“That’s because I don’t go out on dates, which this is not,” you tell her, even expending the energy to stare into the camera to hammer your point home. “And it’s with Jungkook.”

Ruby shuts her laptop at that. You can hear the sound of her keyboard clacking as the lid hits them. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do I need to remind you that this is not a date and therefore, you don’t need to be acting like I just told you I’m getting married.” You frown at her. “It’s just for our movie. Jungkook wants me to dress nicely, though.”

“Wear that nice summer dress you have,” Ruby instructs instead, shooing away the two much sexier options you’re currently holding in your hands. “Just put tights on underneath if you’re cold.”

“This one?” You ask, shuffling through your closet until you produce the gingham dress, plaid a pale yellow that matches gold jewelry rather well.

“Yes, that one. I like that one,” Ruby says with a nod. “You look good in it.”

“I don’t know, I feel like it’s not appropriate.” You hesitate. It’s a cute dress, sure, but it seems too… casual. Too everyday. Jungkook’s taking you out to dinner, and no doubt he’s got something else planned for the rest of the evening.

“I mean, you did say you had no plans on fucking him tonight,” Ruby reminds you coarsely.

“I have no plans on fucking him at all,” you reiterate. “This is not a date. It is for our movie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ruby brushes you off with a wave of her hand. “Wear whatever you want, but I like your yellow dress the most. It looks really nice on you. And if it’s not a date, then neither you nor Jungkook should care.”

“Ruby—”

“I gotta go. Enjoy your not-date!”

She hangs up.

You end up wearing the yellow dress. Jungkook knocks on your apartment door just as you’re closing the clasp to your necklace, a gold choker your mother had gifted you for a birthday a couple of years ago. It’s nothing much. You grab a jacket on your way to answer the door, wrapping it around your figure as you twist the knob.

On the other side is Jungkook, all decked out in black jeans and a clean-cut leather jacket, the black ensemble striking against his warm-toned skin and bleached, blonde hair. You hate to admit it, but he actually does look rather good. For Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi—whoa,” Jungkook says, doing a little whistle when he sees you, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

You chuckle. “‘Whoa’ yourself.”

“You, uh…” Jungkook stammers slightly, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. The movement lifts his arm up just enough for you to see the line of his waist, the seamlessness of his body. He’s always been rather fit. “You look nice.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you chide, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind you. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Cleaned up just for you.” He grins.

You press a hand to your heart dramatically. “I’m touched.” You begin walking down the hallway of your small apartment building, feeling your hands brushing by your sides due to how skinny the corridor is. At least, that’s what you assume.

“Where are we going?” You ask as Jungkook opens the door to the passenger side of his car for you.

He winks, that same gleam in his eye. He grins something wicked. “Don’t you remember?” He asks. “It’s a secret.”

The secret turns out to be a small Italian restaurant on an off-road in the center of town, a family joint with those plaid red tablecloths and dark wooden chairs. You’d never heard of the place before tonight, but Jungkook insists that it’s delicious and says it has a four-and-a-half star rating on Yelp, which is obviously gospel when it comes to restaurants. It’s so empty that he even has room to prop up the camera a couple of tables away to get that wide-angle shot of the both of you, two souls in a tiny little restaurant, enjoying a night out on the town. You’re sure that by the time production and post-production rolls around you’ll edit out most of your dialogue, but you like the idea of keeping in snippets of the audio, overlaying the scene with a soft instrumental.

From a director’s point of view, of course. No other reason to romanticize your night with him.

It’s nice. Objectively, it’s definitely one of the more exciting things you’ve done in a while, even if it’s just a dinner out in town, away from campus. It’s new. Adventurous. Jungkook convinces you to try his vodka shrimp linguine and you offer up some of your truffle-flavored gnocchi, which he devours happily. One thing you do learn is that no matter how much time passes, no matter how much food is on his plate, Jungkook eats and eats and eats. He never seems to fill up. This is one of those restaurants that pile your bowls high with pasta, give you at least three servings, send you home with to-go packages that will last you for days, and he still somehow manages to eat every last bite. He even has some of your leftovers.

Jungkook pays because he insists and says that you shouldn’t fight on camera, which you have no choice but to agree to. However, you do look him up on Venmo and send him twenty dollars to cover your half of the bill, because the idea of him paying for you doesn’t sit right with you. It was fine with the coffee, a small token of repayment after spilling it all over you, but dinner just feels like too much. Like he’s carrying most of the weight and you aren’t shouldering enough. Like he’s putting in all of the effort and you are just bandwagoning off of him.

And partnerships aren’t supposed to be like that. Jungkook isn’t supposed to do all of the work. You aren’t supposed to do nothing. You and Jungkook may not agree on much but you both know that you are equals. That what you put in is what you get out.

It’s a lesson you think you learned too late, but you won’t make those mistakes again. You’ll get it right this time.

“That was nice,” Jungkook says after the dinner. You’re walking through the park just across the street now, the sun having set and the streetlamps illuminating your path. The city has strung up lights along the trees, draped them over the branches like stars, like snowflakes. It’s picturesque.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for taking me.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“How did you discover that place?” You ask, just out of curiosity. It’s not exactly the kind of restaurant that would be front and center on Google.

“I went out on a date in freshman year there,” Jungkook admits, lips pursed awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Did it at least go well?” You ask, trying to be hopeful.

“If it did, do you think I’d still be here doing this with you?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised.

You chuckle to yourself. “You don’t mean that. I’m sure you’ll find your person.”

“You actually believe in that stuff now?” Jungkook asks you, skeptical.

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “You do. I don’t wanna ruin it for you. Your person’s out there somewhere.”

“How do you know I haven’t already found my person?”

You stop in the middle of the path, feet coming to a halt on the pavement. Jungkook looks at you and you look back at him, letting his question sink into your skin, etch itself into your thoughts. He’s asking you because he wants to know. He looks so genuine, so patient, like he’s trying to find an answer somewhere in your eyes but you can’t give him one.

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell when you did?”

Jungkook sighs. “I don’t know if it always works like that.”

You smile, soft and small. Musing, you say, “well, when you figure it out, let me know.”

“Do you think you’ve found your person?” Jungkook asks you.

“You know I don’t think about love like that,” you remind him.

“Well, how do you think about it?”

You gaze up at him once more, that same soft smile playing on your lips. Who is he to be asking you these questions, you wonder to yourself. What would the point be in answering him? It’s better if you just both moved on. Especially since stuff like this has no relevance to your project.

“I don’t really think about love at all,” you say curtly.

“I wish you did,” admits Jungkook.

The look in your eyes is distant. “Yeah.” You wish you did, too.

“How about we do a couple of quick shots, right here?” Jungkook suggests, pulling out the camera. “Just here, the lighting’s nice.” He jogs back a couple of feet, lining himself up with where you stand, kneeling on the pavement with the camera held up to his eye.

“What do you want me to do?” You call to him, feeling like a fish out of water in front of the lens, thumbs twiddling.

“Just smile,” Jungkook requests simply. “Say hi to me.”

Sounds easy enough. Under the twinkling lights of the trees, in the haze of their warm yellow glow, you wave to Jungkook, smiling happily. You aren’t exactly sure what the purpose of these shots are, but you suppose you could always use some artistic frames in your movie. Grinning, you keep your eyes trained on him, on the way you can see him smiling back at you even from behind the camera. His eyes are covered, you can’t see those, but you hope they’re smiling too.

“Okay, my turn,” you say when a little too much time has passed, when it’s just past the point of filming for the sake of a movie and more for the sake of something else. “Get over here.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you idiot.” You scurry over to Jungkook, taking the camera from his hands and pushing in in the general direction of where you were just standing. Situating yourself, you kneel right where Jungkook was, bringing the camera to your eyes.

Through the lens, you can see the entire width of the pathway, the grass that borders it, the lights decorating the branches of the trees, and Jungkook, front and center. He looks like he has no idea what he’s doing there, waiting awkwardly as he gazes around, eyes drifting everywhere but exactly where you need them: you. He looks good like this, looks much taller, much more romantic. Like a real movie star. Like a model. His clothes make him blend in with the darkness of the night but his eyes are still shimmering, golden flecks twinkling, even from all the way over here.

You have to admit it. He’s beautiful.

“Smile,” you say, pressing film.

Jungkook grins your way.

Afterwards, you give him his camera back and continue walking, turning the corner as you reach the edge of the park, ready to circle around the perimeter.

“How about we hold hands, too?”

“Excuse you?” You say, an eyebrow raised.

“Come on, just for a second,” Jungkook pleads. “For the artistry. I’ll film us holding hands like all those Los Angeles boys do in YouTube vlogs.”

You look at him suspiciously. Is he sure it’s just for the artistry? “What a great example.”

“Please? Promise I always put hand cream on,” Jungkook asks, bottom lip turned outwards.

It’s getting harder and harder to say no to him.

“Fine,” you cave rather easily this time around. “Just for a minute.”

“Excellent.”

Jungkook lifts the camera up to his eye with his right hand as he holds out his left, palm facing the sky as he waits for you to rest your own in his. You narrow your eyes to the camera before your gaze drifts downwards to his open hand, almost like you’re afraid it’s going to jump out and bite at you if you get any closer. But it won’t, because it’s a hand. And it won’t, because it’s just Jungkook.

The first thing you realize when your fingers intertwine with his is how big his hands are. They are massive. His left one dwarfs your own, wrapping around it securely, enveloping it like a king-sized comforter. The second thing you realize is how soft they are (he must not have been lying about the hand cream). The third thing you realize is the way they send sparks up and down your body, send tingles through your skin, shocks through your veins. You seize up a little bit at the feeling before your body finds it in itself to relax, letting the sensation wash over you like a wave from the ocean.

It’s new.

It’s strange.

You haven’t felt that way in a long time. Felt those sparks, those jolts of energy. Like lightning has struck.

Jungkook moves so that your hands are held out in front of you, making sure to adjust the lens just so he can get the exact right angle, but all you can focus on is the way your fingers interlock, the way your hand settles into his.

You wonder what that means.

The moment Jungkook lowers the camera you pull your hand away, overwhelmed and scared and shocked all at once. Like you’re afraid that if you reach out to him again, your whole body will freeze in place, shake like the wind.

Jungkook looks at you, concern lacing his features. “You alright?” He asks, genuine and worried.

You shake your head, willing those thoughts away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You get the shot?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jungkook says.

“And how do they look?” You ask because you can’t help yourself. Because you just have to know.

Jungkook pauses, not sure how to respond. He chews on his lips like he’s running through all the possible answers, trying to figure out which one is right. You almost think he’s not going to reply at all, but then he smiles, and he says this:

“Magical.”

It feels weird for you to be arriving at Kim Taehyung’s door without Jungkook by your side. Doesn’t sit right in your stomach.

Of course, Taehyung is as hospitable as always, welcoming you inside with his signature warm grin as he sets up the bar stools by the bedsheet, which you assume he will just not take down until your project’s over. Hopefully he’s getting use out of it otherwise, shooting nudes or whatever it is he said he would do.

“Thanks for having me,” you say, resting your backpack against the foot of his couch as you set up the tripod, arranging it in just the right spot. It’s not Jungkook’s fancy camera that you’ve got with you, just your own from a couple years ago, but it’ll get the job done. You couldn’t ask Jungkook to borrow his, anyway. You’d pass away before he found out you did this.

“We might not use this footage,” you warn in advance. “I just figured it’s safer to film everything just in case.”

“Why wouldn’t you use it?” Taehyung asks, genuinely curious.

“Because I don’t know if this conversation will really have a point,” you say nervously, fingers fidgeting with the settings until everything’s just right.

“I’m sure it’ll be important,” Taehyung assures you. You’re not so confident. “Ready to get started?”

“Yes, everything’s all set up,” you say, concentrating on your breathing as you make your way to the stool. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Why are you so worried?

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling right now?” Taehyung begins.

You sigh. “Confused.”

“And why is that?”

“I… I don’t really know what direction I’m going in anymore for this project,” you say, letting yourself be candid and honest because it’s just Taehyung, and because you may not even use this footage, and because Jungkook’s not here. He doesn’t know you’ve asked Taehyung to do this for you. He doesn’t need to.

“And is this because of Jungkook?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer.

“How are you feeling about him?”

“I’m…” you don’t know where to begin. “I’m not sure. I just know that something’s changed.”

“Your feelings have changed?” Taehyung isn’t reacting, just asking questions in response to your answers and pretending that everything is normal, that this is just another interview.

“I guess they have,” you admit. Even just saying that feels like a weight off your chest. A small one, five pounds out of a thousand. But it’s a difference. “I… don’t really know how I feel about him anymore.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Taehyung told you he would ask tough questions, but you don’t know if you can answer these anymore.

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling yourself growing desperate with impatience. “I don’t feel the same things about him that I used to. He’s different to me now.”

“Do you think he’s changed?”

“Something has.”

“Have you considered the possibility that maybe you’ve changed, too?”

You frown, caught off-guard by his question. No, you haven’t. You haven’t thought about that at all. Why would you? Your stance is the same. Your opinions on love haven’t changed. And neither have your convictions about this project, about the way it will end.

“No,” you say, nose scrunched up.

“Well, I’m no expert, but I think there might be something between the two of you that wasn’t there before,” Taehyung says, nodding. “I think that the ways the two of you have changed have brought you together.”

“I don’t know about that…” You trail off. You can feel yourself growing hesitant again, pulling back from saying too much because you’ve never been a very good speaker. Because you’ve always preferred being behind the camera to being in front of it.

“Don’t you think you should tell him how you feel?”

You scoff. At least that’s got an easy answer. A no-brainer. “No,” you say matter-of-factly, obvious because it is, stern because telling him was never an option anyway. Why else does Taehyung think you’re here without him? “Jungkook said he would get me to fall in love with him and I told him I would never. How could I ever let him think he was actually winning?”

Taehyung sighs.

You haven’t seen Jungkook since your class on Wednesday. Granted, it’s only Saturday, but it feels like it’s been a weirdly long time. Like you’re so used to him barging into your life on the daily that there’s something off about even going three days without seeing him. Maybe it’s just because you’re nearing the beginning of April and your project is finally picking up steam. Between the two of you, you almost definitely have more than two hour’s worth of footage, but the hard part will be paring it down and turning it into a forty-five minute documentary. No doubt you and Jungkook will be spending a lot of time together the week before it’s due.

Just out of curiosity, you text him. Because you have no idea what he’s been getting up to.

[March 28th, 1:05PM]

You: Hey, do you think we need to get together sometime this weekend?

Jungkook: i don’t think i can Jungkook: it’s my dance group’s show this weekend

You: Really? You: You didn’t tell me

Jungkook: been too busy

You: What time is your show tonight?

Jungkook: 7pm

You: Sounds good, I’ll be there

Jungkook: oh Jungkook: you don’t have to

You: I want to You: I’ll see you there!

That night, you drop by the grocery store beforehand to pick up a bouquet of flowers. You haven’t been a performing arts show for years now, especially not one where you actually know the people performing, but flowers are customary. Or so you’ve heard.

You don’t know a single soul who has plans on seeing Jungkook’s dance group either, but the theater is a ten-minute walk away from campus and you’re happy to make the trek alone, especially because you know you’ll find someone you know soon enough. Sometimes it’s nice to walk by yourself, letting the streetlamps above your head illuminate your path, a faceless figure passing by others. It brings peace. And it gives you time to sift through your thoughts, organize them into neat little piles and brush away all of the dust.

Admittedly, you are not much of a connoisseur of the performing arts. You aren’t even much of a consumer. In another universe, under different circumstances, you wouldn’t blink twice if you heard that one of the dance groups on campus was having their show. But this is not another universe, and these are not different circumstances.

Jungkook will be there. He is taking something he’s worked tirelessly on and presenting it to the world. Now that you think about it, it’s actually a lot like film. And if Jungkook has devoted so much time, put so much energy into this performance, what kind of person would you be if you didn’t go and watch his creation?

You pick a seat in the far back corner, the venue so cozy that even despite being the furthest away you’ve still got an excellent view, sit down, and wait for it to begin.

[March 28th, 6:58PM]

Jungkook: hey are you here?

You: I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?

Jungkook: always such a tease

You roll your eyes at that, turning your phone off and stowing it away in your pocket. Two minutes later, the lights dim.

The moment Jungkook steps out onto the stage, you recognize him instantly. He’s wearing all black again, but it’s not the same skinny jeans and leather jacket he had on when he took you out to dinner. It’s a loose long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, highlighting the blondeness of his hair, the red in his lips. He’s one of at least a dozen people on stage but he’s the only one you focus on, the only one who your eyes follow. Booming throughout the theater is a Drake song, the beat thick and low, but it’s background noise when compared to the way he moves, the way he twists and turns his body on stage, angles sharp and crisp.

The whole song goes by so quickly that by the time you find it in yourself to blink the stage is already darkening as they move onto the next song, switching out the performers and changing the spotlight colors to a sultry red. Jungkook disappears for this one, vanishing behind the curtains and forcing you to pay attention to the performance as a whole instead of just him. But you have to hand it to his group: they’re excellent. You’ve been missing out.

Jungkook returns with the next song, having had just enough time to change into an all-white ensemble. He’s easy to spot even with that ridiculous bucket hat on, blonde hair bouncing with every step he takes, every jerk of his body. You can see it all the way from where you sit, see the way he loses himself in the music, lets the rhythm radiate through his blood, lets his heart match the beat that booms through the speakers. This, all of it, the music, the dancing, the energy—it’s all his. It belongs to him. Jungkook may love film but he is passionate about this. It is something that must bring him all the joy in the world.

The next hour and a half goes by quickly, the songs jumping from one to another to another, Jungkook dashing on and off stage, each time returning in a different getup than the one prior. Makes you wonder just how many clothes he has. But before you know it the final song is playing and every one, every single member is on stage, jumping and cheering and celebrating a job well done. And they should, because they deserve to.

When the lights in the theater come on, nobody leaves. Instead, everyone rushes towards the stage to say hello to everybody, congratulate them on their performance and take pictures with their friends. That’s why everyone else is here, isn’t it? Because the people they care about performed tonight.

Isn’t that why you’re here, too?

Jungkook has plenty of other friends already wrapping their arms around him, giving him high-fives and pats on the back, but you’ve got a bouquet of assorted flowers in your hands and you have no plans on bringing them home. So you squeeze your way through the crowd, push yourself in between bodies, and you shout,

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook looks up instantly at the call of his name, the round shape of his lips curving upwards into a smile when he sees you.

“Hey, you made it!” He exclaims happily. He’s so pumped on the adrenaline that he pulls you into a hug without either of you even realizing it, wrapping his arms around your torso and squeezing you tight for a few moments before the two of you remember just exactly who you both are. Quickly, you pull away, chuckling awkwardly. Jungkook scratches at the back of his head. “Thanks for, uh—thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you say happily. “You were amazing.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” Jungkook schmoozes, annoying as always.

You scoff slightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Here, I brought this for you. It’s traditional, right?” You hold out the bouquet in front of you, pink plastic wrapping crunched up from where your fingers gripped the stems.

“Wow, thank you,” Jungkook says, in awe as he takes the flowers from you, pressing his face into the petals instinctively. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Really?” You say, genuinely surprised at his admission. He’s never been given flowers before? Not even for a performance? You didn’t know that, either. “Then I’m glad to be the first.”

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Jungkook says, though he looks grateful nonetheless.

You shrug, acting casual. “Aren’t we supposed to be falling in love, or something?”

He grins.

“Did you guys film this? Maybe we could incorporate it into the movie,” you suggest, thinking it might be interesting to add in glimpses into your normal lives, into the things you do when you aren’t trying to one-up each other.

Jungkook shakes his head. “We did, but I don’t think we need to add it in.”

“Why not?” It seems like a perfect addition.

Jungkook pulls out a single flower from the bouquet, a pale yellow daisy, and hands it to you. You smile your thanks, twirling the stem in between your fingers.

“I don’t know,” he says, looking oddly soft, cheeks turning cherry red. He looks at you and it makes your heart flutter, quickens the drum of your chest. “I just think I’d like to keep this moment to ourselves.”

You suppose he’s got a point. You don’t think you’ll forget this night, either.

The bouquet you gave him sits on Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom windowsill, bathing in the afternoon sun. Taehyung gave him some plant food the morning after you came to his performance, a little bottle that he can spritz into the water whenever the flowers look a little droopy. Jungkook adds some every day, determined to keep them alive for as long as possible. He also makes sure he’s got a rather heavy book or two, something he can use to press one of them when they’ve all shriveled up.

It was really nice of you to come to his show, he thinks to himself. Jungkook can’t remember the last time someone outside of his group of close friends went to see him perform, not any of his past dates or even that one girl he was seeing semi-seriously for a couple months last year until she told him she wasn’t interested in him anymore. You’re the first one who’s made the effort, who’s told him that you would come and kept that promise. The flowers are just a happy reminder.

As a celebration for completing their last show, Jungkook and some of the other juniors in his dance crew decide to go out the following weekend, determined to waste away their Saturday nights at a bar just off of campus where they can take as many shots of as many different types of alcohols as they want. The place even has soju, which makes Jungkook’s heart happy.

Despite the temptation to drink until his brain is empty, however, Jungkook holds off. He’s got a lot of work tomorrow, most of it consisting of editing the footage you have for the project, and doesn’t really feel like staring at a computer for eight hours straight with a headache. So he limits himself. For the most part.

“Who was that girl that came to the show?” One of his friends, Andrew, asks as he downs another shot of what is undoubtedly vodka, if the smell is anything to go by. “With the flowers?”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Jesse pipes up, red in the face from the alcohol in his system. He’s always been one to turn into a tomato after drinking.

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly, shaking his head when the bartender offers him another shot glass full of soju. “No,” he says, forcing a laugh. “Just a friend.”

“I don’t know, you guys looked pretty close to me,” Andrew points out, like it wasn’t already obvious enough that Jungkook is head over heels for you.

“She and I are working on a film project together,” Jungkook explains, though that does absolutely nothing to convince his friends of your completely platonic relationship.

“Sounds fun,” Jesse says, swallowing another shot and wincing. “It was nice of her to bring you flowers. My girlfriend didn’t do that.”

“Shut up, your girlfriend is studying abroad in Paris right now,” Andrew says, giving Jesse a good-natured shove. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“What, please don’t—”

“She’s not my girlfriend, guys,” Jungkook repeats himself, feeling his cheeks heat up the longer the conversation drags on. He chalks it up to the soju in his system and the fact that it feels like a sauna in here. “Seriously, we’re just friends. People can be friends and bring each other flowers.”

Jesse pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” He rounds on Andrew. “Where are my flowers, hey Andrew?”

The two of them start bickering as Jungkook laughs, shaking his head fondly. At least he’s not drunk, so he can remember nights like these, ones where he’s drinking with his stupid idiot friends, celebrating a show well done.

Jungkook stays at the bar until eleven that night before he makes the executive decision to go home and sleep, because as much as he would like to party until three in the morning, he’s got a pile of work that’s telling him to be a real adult. So he bids his friends goodbye and begins to make the trek back to his apartment, passing by the row of frat houses on his way.

Even though he’s out on the sidewalk, Jungkook can feel the ground rumble from the music, every frat on the block joining together to make some booming, bass monster. From here he can see the flashing blue and purple lights in the windows, see the brothers standing on the steps of each house and turning away whoever they deem unfit to enter.

In a weird way, it makes Jungkook nostalgic. Reminiscent of when he was a freshman, when he would group up with all of the people in his hall and parade around the frat row on Saturday nights like they owned the place, getting drunk on shitty tequila and jumping until they sweat out their body fluids. He remembers those nights in flashes, bits and pieces that make up his memory of freshman year as a whole. Remembers kissing other girls, other girls kissing him. Remembers the way he would lock lips with them for a second and then forget about it by the next day.

Jungkook wonders why he ever thought he would meet his soulmate at a frat party.

He’s just passing the last frat house now, nodding to the guy on the step when they accidentally meet eyes, when he hears you call his name.

“Jungkook!”

He whips around to see you on the other side of the road, waving at him excitedly while your friends all laugh, sending smiles Jungkook’s way.

Jungkook isn’t exactly sure what the protocol is for a scenario like this, so he does what he thinks is right and waves back.

“Come over here!” You shout at him, loosely gesturing for him to join your group. Jungkook is hesitant, not sure if that’s necessarily the best course of action because even from here he can tell that you’re drunk, leaning over to one side and giggling at nothing. But even if he isn’t sure what will happen he can’t help but fall into the way you’re beaming at him, waving excitedly because you saw him on the street and you wanted to say hello.

He’s never been able to resist you.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” He says as he jogs over, greeting the rest of your friends with a patient smile.

“Went out with my friends,” you say. Jungkook can smell the alcohol on your lips. “And then I saw you, which made me happy!”

You stumble over nothing, shoes skipping as they drag along the pavement, and before any of your friends can react Jungkook is reaching his arms out, catching you before you fall flat on your face. Your hands press against his torso as he lifts you back to your feet, and all Jungkook can do is pray that you can’t hear the way his heart races, beat drumming in his ears. You giggle in his hold, disoriented but not at all uneasy, looking up at him as your eyes sparkle in the glow of the streetlamps.

“Thanks,” you manage to cough out.

“Sure,” Jungkook says, breathless. He stands you up and tries to let you go, but you keep your hands tight around his wrists. “I think we need to get you home.”

“Can you come with me?” You ask innocently, eyes wide.

“Y/N…” One of your friends says, voice hesitant. She places a hand on your shoulder, looking concerned. Jungkook doesn’t take any offense to it, he doesn’t know your friends well and imagines that they would much prefer being the ones to drop you back at your place.

You shrug her off. “No, it’s okay, Ruby,” you assure your friend, hand inching down Jungkook’s wrist until it rests firmly within his palm. “I’ll go with him.”

Ruby eyes Jungkook suspiciously and her gaze is so intense that it actually makes him doubt his ability to walk you home for a moment. But you seem intent on walking with him, and the sooner you go home the better, so Ruby relents and lifts her hand from your shoulder. “Alright, if you want to.” She keeps her eyes trained on Jungkook. “Text me when you’re back.”

“I will, I will,” you say, brushing her off and waving her away. “Let’s go, Jungkook. I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, come on,” he says. You smile happily at your friends as you say goodbye, cheerful and drunk and tired, all at once, and you begin to walk towards your apartment.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, positively filter-less.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Jungkook assures you. “What did you have to drink tonight?”

“Not sure,” you admit happily. “Just a lot.”

“I can tell.” Jungkook nods. “Were you at a frat party?”

“Several,” you correct him. “They weren’t that fun but at least the drinks were free.”

“Why were you at a frat party if you don’t like them?” Jungkook asks you, nose scrunched up. You certainly aren’t the kind of person to hide your distaste for things. That is something that Jungkook is intimately familiar with.

You shrug. “It’s the cheapest place to get drunk.”

“Why did you want to get drunk?” This is seeming more and more out-of-character for you. Going to a place you despise, taking shots until you can’t walk straight, meandering around campus with Jungkook. All of these are things Jungkook could never in a million years picture you doing out of free will.

Well, all of them except maybe the last one. You did come to his dance show, after all.

You sigh. It’s thick and heavy and Jungkook has a feeling you won’t want to divulge any more. “I just wanted to forget.”

But the curiosity is eating at him.

“Forget what?”

Your grip on his hand tightens. Jungkook fully expects you to dodge the question like you’ve dodged all of the ones prior, say something else to change the topic so you can sweep this discussion under the rug like all of the other ones you’ve had. But you don’t.

Instead, you say, “You wanna know why I don’t love love the way you do?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jungkook quickly assures you.

“I had better options than this place,” you say, voice hollow and empty. “There were better universities that accepted me. Ones with higher-ranked film programs and bigger scholarships. I could have gone to any one of them and been just as happy. Maybe more.”

“But you didn’t,” Jungkook clarifies.

“My ex-boyfriend goes to school ten minutes away from here,” you say, words that are most certainly news to Jungkook. You had a boyfriend? “He and I dated all throughout high school. I thought I was gonna marry him.”

The words sound so sad. It sounds like they don’t even belong to you. Like you’re recalling the memories of a different person, someone you’ve killed and buried, someone you were certain you would never have to face again. Yourself. Your past self.

“And then he broke up with me at the beginning of last year and it was too late to transfer out.” Your words are slurred and garbled, like all you want is to get over with saying them in the first place. It’s not a dramatic revelation. It’s not something you’re crying about, sobbing into Jungkook’s chest as you remember, miserable, a time where you were once happy. You just sound lifeless.

Jungkook blinks at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. It doesn’t feel right for him to speak up. Not when you’ve just revealed to him something so personal, so drunk that you probably won’t even remember saying anything when you wake up tomorrow morning.

What is he supposed to do with this knowledge? What is he supposed to say? To do? It’s not like Jungkook can change your past. It’s not even as if he can change the near future. Your project is almost finished—the semester is almost over. And then you will return to the time where you never even knew each other.

“You can say something,” you tell him.

“What do you want me to say?” Jungkook says.

“Something to make me feel better, because now I’m sad,” you request simply. “Seeing you made me happy.”

“Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and smile, then,” he muses to himself.

“No, please keep talking,” you plead, leaning into his body with your bottom lip puffed out, eyes big and round and desperate. “Listening to you gets me to stop thinking about this stuff.”

Hearing that, Jungkook says the first thing that comes to mind. And that is, “You don’t have to think about that stuff anymore at all.”

“Hmm?” You murmur into his chest. Jungkook sees your apartment building up ahead. Just another block or so.

“Well, that was your old love story,” he begins tentatively. Jungkook’s almost fully sober by now but he feels like he won’t ever get another opportunity to say this, and maybe whatever soju is left in his system is enough to get him through this conversation. Enough for him to muster up the confidence to tell you what he’s been wanting to tell you for a while now.

Even if you forget it by tomorrow. He knows this is his only chance.

“And it didn’t have a happy ending, but that’s okay. Because ours will.”

You’re just coming up to your apartment complex, the rusted gold doors of the entrance sticking out against the beige of the building and the sidewalk, shimmering in the light of the streetlamps. You pause right outside, taking cover underneath the red awning above your heads. Looking up at him, you blink expectantly.

“How do I know you mean that?” You ask.

He almost does it.

Jungkook doesn’t really know what washes over him in that moment, what takes his heart and mind prisoner for a split second, grip tight and unforgiving. But he’s staring straight into your watery eyes, glossy and glimmery and glowing, lost in the way you press your lips together, the way you gaze up at him and wait for him to tell you what he’s always wanted to say, and he almost does it. His hands press at your sides, holding you close, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go you’ll vanish without another trace and this night will all have been for naught.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t for a lot of reasons. You’re drunk. When you wake up tomorrow, you will not remember this conversation. But Jungkook will. And if he does it, if he kisses you, if he presses his lips to yours it will be burned into his thoughts, carved into his heart, and you will be none the wiser. Jungkook can’t do that to himself. And he can’t do that to you, either. He will never take advantage of your company. He never has.

“Because,” Jungkook says instead, having hesitated for far too long. “I promise you.”

It’s good enough for him.

He tucks you into bed at 12:17AM that night, feet padding along your hardwood floor so he doesn’t wake up your neighbors, guiding you to your bedroom and reminding you to text Ruby that you made it home safely. Jungkook’s never gotten a very good look at your place, and even now it’s hard to make out most things without the main ceiling lights on, but he doesn’t really want to snoop. Even though you invited him in, he still feels like he’s intruding. You’ve always been so private. There were a lot of things said tonight that Jungkook is going to have to reckon with.

Once you’re curled up beneath your sheets, eyes drooping, Jungkooks turns off the light on your nightstand and nearly, just about nearly, presses his lips to your forehead. He manages to avoid doing that, too.

Instead, he pulls up your duvet and heads towards the main room, making a beeline for your front door. But before he can leave the room, he hears you mumble out his name.

“Jungkook?” You call, voice groggy.

“Yeah?” He looks back at you from where he stands in your door frame, one hand on the knob, ready to pull it closed.

You smile, eyes fluttering. “Thank you,” you say.

Jungkook grins.

The next morning you wake up with a pounding headache and three missed calls from Ruby, which undoubtedly means that something positively terrible happened last night. Unfortunately, you have no idea what happened at all last night, good or terrible, so whatever Ruby has to say will be news to you.

Rubbing your eyes as you wrack your brain in the hopes of figuring out how you even ended up back at your apartment (when you swear you told Ruby you would stay at hers), you press on Ruby’s contact and call her.

“Y/N? Hello? Are you there?” Ruby answers on the first ring.

“I’m here,” you mumble out, words jumped and barely intelligible. You wince as your eyes adjust to the harsh blue light of your phone screen, squinting as you look at the time.

Shit, it’s 11:43AM and you’re meeting Jungkook for coffee at noon.

“Good, I called you three times last night after you texted,” Ruby wastes no time diving into her interrogation.

“Why?” You ask, scrambling out of bed with your phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. Your head throbs so you quickly take some Ibuprofen, splash your face with water, and start looking for something clean you can put on.

“Because texting me ‘home’ is not enough!” Ruby exclaims. “Jungkook walked you home last night, I wanted to make sure you were tucked in bed and feeling alright.”

You frown. You don’t remember that. Granted, you don’t remember a lot of things, but you can’t recall Jungkook walking you back. You saw him last night? You didn’t even know. Scratching your head, a part of you vaguely pictures him standing in your apartment in the dark, resting against the door frame to your bedroom in the warm yellow light of the lamp on your nightstand. Can just barely see him tucking you into bed, placing the sheets over your figure and making you text Ruby that you’re home. You thought you were just imagining it at the time, but it must have happened anyway.

“Jungkook walked me home?”

“Yeah, you insisted,” Ruby says. “You probably don’t remember, though.”

“No,” you say dumbly.

“Well, I appreciate you texting me that you were home but I would have preferred something more explanatory,” scolds Ruby. “I thought maybe Jungkook was gonna do something.”

“Oh my goodness, no,” you immediately interject, pulling on your shoes and stuffing your laptop into your backpack. Just the thought of Jungkook doing something like that sends your stomach for a whirl. “He would never do that. I trust him.”

“I mean, I see that now,” Ruby points out. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you promise. “Everything’s good.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Ruby says, still sounding a bit like an overprotective mother. You love her, though. You know she just wants the best for you. “Take it easy today, okay? You had a lot to drink last night.”

“I will,” you assure her. “I’m just on my way to meet up with Jungkook now. Getting coffee.”

“Make sure to eat, too,” Ruby reminds you. “And tell Jungkook that I said thanks for walking you home.”

“Anything else, Mom?”

You can practically see Ruby frowning on the other end. “Oh, shut up. I’ll see you, okay?”

She bids you goodbye just as you’re dashing out the door, your usual stride quickening so you make it to the cafe in time, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting. You make it there in a record five minutes, pulling open the door frantically just as the clock strikes noon.

Jungkook’s already there, of course, sitting by a little round table in the corner of the room with two americanos on the table. He waves when he sees you standing by the entrance, and the mere sight of him makes you smile, shoulders relaxing.

“Hey,” you greet, a little out of breath as you settle into the chair across from him.

“Hey,” Jungkook says back. “How are you feeling?”

“My head is killing me, but other than that I’m alright,” you admit, taking a sip of the drink. It’s piping hot but just the right amount of scalding, warming your insides after a night of filling them with pure poison.

“Good.” He grins. “It’s nice to see your face.”

“Oh, yeah, speaking of which,” you say while still on the topic, “did you walk me home last night? I can’t remember.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, I bumped into you and your friends while I was on my way back from a bar.”

You wince. The fact that you don’t even remember that happening tells you enough. “I was super drunk, wasn’t I?”

Jungkook, nice as always, says, “I’ve seen worse.” It only makes you feel the slightest bit better.

“Hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing,” you say, knowing you have a tendency to lose your filter almost entirely when you get wasted, letting any sort of mental reasoning fly out the door the moment you down another shot. And the thought of having told Jungkook something deeply humiliating or personal, or even him witnessing something stupid, makes you feel weirdly exposed.

Jungkook freezes for a split second, almost like he’s buffering, like he’s about to say something but it’s just taking him an extra step to get the words out of his mouth. Then he takes a quick sip of his americano and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. You were just very drunk. And clingy.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” you apologize. You can’t imagine the hell you must have put Jungkook through last night.

Jungkook laughs. “It’s okay. I’m glad we got you home safe.”

“Me, too.” You nod. You send a grateful smile his way. “Thanks for walking me, by the way. I really appreciate it. Ruby says thanks, too.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says. It doesn’t sound like something that people say just to say it. The way that people say ‘anytime’ just so they can be friendly and amicable. He says it and he means it, says it genuinely and honestly, like it’s a real promise that he’s making. That he would be happy to walk you home again. No matter the hour. No matter how drunk you are. No matter what he’s doing.

And that means a lot to you.

“We should probably wrap up filming soon, huh?” You say, getting onto the topic at hand. Of course, the project is the whole reason you’re even talking to each other in the first place. “It’s due in three weeks.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of another outing? And maybe one more thing with Taehyung?” Jungkook suggests.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “‘Another outing’, Jungkook? What exactly do you have in mind?”

He grins.

This time, Jungkook is the one with the flowers.

When you open your front door they’re the first thing you see, an enormous bouquet of an assortment of spring flowers in a variety of colors—pinks and purples and oranges and yellows—gripped neatly in Jungkook’s hand. They stick out against his otherwise rather formal attire, a simple black dress shirt and jeans, nice shoes that compliment his figure. Black truly is the world’s most slimming color, and Jungkook is no exception. He looks good.

“For you, m’lady,” Jungkook says dramatically as he holds out the bouquet in front of him.

“How thoughtful of you,” you muse to yourself, grinning. You take the flowers and press your whole face into them, breathing in the fresh scent. “The one I gave you wasn’t nearly this big.”

“Go big or go home,” Jungkook teases. “You look nice, by the way.”

“You always sound so surprised when you say that,” you comment snidely, shaking your head as you grab your bag from the shelf next to your door. “What are we doing tonight, Jeon? Gonna keep it a secret from me like last time?”

“That depends,” Jungkook says knowingly. “Do you like secrets?”

“You should know what I like by now,” you remark.

“Then prepare to be wowed.” He grins, taking your hand in his as he pulls you out the door.

The restaurant you go to this time does not require a ten minute drive to the center of town. Instead, it’s a five minute walk from campus and actually happens to be a place you’ve been to before. It’s a busy little thing on a Friday night, waiters bustling about with trays in their hands, people laughing and smiling under the dim light of the chandeliers. You’ve only been here once, long ago, for a club dinner paid for by the finance chair, and for good reason. It’s not the kind of place cheap college students looking to get the most food for the least amount of money go to.

“Isn’t this a bit out of budget for our rom-com?” You ask as the host seats you at your table, a little booth in the middle of the restaurant, lanterns resting on the corners of the seats.

“I thought this was a mockumentary,” Jungkook jokes.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, resisting the smile that fights its way across your face. Trust you to make that sort of blunder in front of him. “I mean it, though. This place is expensive.”

“It’s manageable,” Jungkook promises. “I’ve been saving up. Plus, I thought you deserved a nice night out.”

“How generous of you.”

“Oh, come on, I know you’re excited,” he narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t have to act like a stone-cold robot anymore.”

“Well…” you suppose enough is enough. Jungkook can see right through you anyway, so there’s no point in keeping up this indifferent facade of yours. “Only because you’re treating me so nicely.”

“Just please don’t order the steak,” he requests simply.

You laugh. “No problem. Maybe we could just share a couple of appetizers?”

Jungkook likes the sound of that.

Luckily, this is not one of those restaurants where the appetizers cost an arm and a leg and are the size of your pinky finger. You and Jungkook split three different ones, happy to scoop out portions for each of you and indulge in them together.

Dinner dates—of which this is only sort of one—are always awkward because you spend half of the time shoving food into your mouth, but you and Jungkook don’t seem to mind the silence at all. Only, Jungkook does look sort of like he’s holding back.

“Is this enough food for you?” You ask him halfway through, distantly remembering how he absolutely devoured a whole plate of pasta last time and still having enough room in his stomach to finish yours.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of vegetables.

“You ate so much at the Italian place, I just want to make sure you aren’t still hungry,” you point out.

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, swallowing down the bite in his mouth. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else. But what the hell, right? It’s Jungkook. It’s Jungkook and he walked you home when you were drunk, he gave you flowers, he let you borrow his jacket. And you feel as though you must return the favor. “Anytime.”

He smiles.

Despite the pure ecstasy you both experience when eating delicious food, Jungkook makes sure not to waste this time and grabs a few frames of you eating with his camera. He always seems to have that with him whenever he’s with you, hanging around his neck or stuffed into his backpack or crammed into his pants pocket. Sort of makes you wonder just how much footage the two of you have of each other.

He insists on paying but you send him some money anyway, just because letting him shoulder the burden of a place as expensive (for college students, at least) as this just doesn’t sit right with you. Whenever he receives the Venmo notification on his phone, Jungkook frowns and says that he’ll send that money back to you, but he never does and you can tell that he really does appreciate it.

You don’t think you have any plans on stopping that for a while.

The only downside of going to this restaurant is that there is no gorgeous, light-strung park in the vicinity the two of you can wander around. Just your campus, which you have no doubt walked a thousand times over, and the streets surrounding it, which you have memorized like the back of your hand.

It almost makes you think that Jungkook is just going to drop you back off at your place and the night will end there, but you know better than to expect something like that from Jungkook. Instead, as you’re walking, you point out the cafe that you and Ruby always go to, see that it’s closing in half-an-hour, and Jungkook decides then and there that it’s your next destination.

“You’ve never been here before?” You ask when you walk inside, eyes immediately drifting to the display of pastries beside the register.

“I’m not normally on this side of campus,” Jungkook admits. “You’re the only reason I’m ever here.”

“Then hopefully after finding this place, you’ll have two reasons,” you say cheerfully. The baristas behind the counter know you on a first-name basis, are happy to help you out even though they’ve no doubt been working long hours and are ready to close up shop and go home.

You split a tiramisu and sit at that same corner table you and Ruby always pick, empty now that it’s so late at night. Other than the employees, you and Jungkook are the only ones in here, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, filled to the brim with people, the smell of cooked food wafting through the air.

The tiramisu isn't as fresh as it would be bright and early in the morning, but you suppose that that just means you and Jungkook will have to come back. Besides, Jungkook obviously does not seem to mind, scarfing it down ruthlessly. You’re in and out just as they close up shop, the employees bidding you goodbye like old friends, sending you on your way. There’s not really much else either of you have planned for tonight, and Jungkook isn’t coming up with any new ideas as he checks his phone. Instead, you just begin to head back to your apartment, all wrapped up in each other. You place your hand in his own and feel yourself relax when he squeezes, a silent little reminder that he’s still here, and that so are you.

Funnily enough, holding hands feels natural to you at this point.

“Tonight was fun,” you comment, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah, glad we could do this,” Jungkook agrees. “Makes me kind of sad to know that this thing is almost over.”

“What, the project?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Yeah. And the class. And the semester. It’s kind of scary. We’ll be seniors next year.”

You chuckle. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I still have no idea what I’m going to do after we graduate.”

“You don’t have to know everything,” Jungkook reassures you. “As long as you’re happy with what you have now.”

“Are you?” You inquire, looking up to meet his eyes.

Jungkook beams down at you. “I am.”

The walk from the cafe to your apartment is short, just under five minutes, but it feels like it takes you an hour, footsteps slow and languid, like neither of you want the night to end. You hit every red light, round every corner, drawing out the evening for as long as you can. Unfortunately, there is only so much you can do on a five-minute walk, and before you know it, you’re home.

“This is me,” you say, stopping outside the gold doors of your apartment complex. “Thanks again for tonight.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says, a common thread in your conversations.

“Really?” You ask, skeptical. “Our project’s almost over.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to stop doing this,” Jungkook says.

You narrow your eyes. “What are you implying, huh, Jungkook?”

“This.”

Before you know it, he’s wrapping one hand around your waist and pulling you in close to him, your palms splayed out against his broad, toned chest, pressing his lips to yours. You gasp a little into the feeling, somewhat shocked he would dare be so bold even after all this time, but find yourself sinking into the touch. He tastes like coffee and cream, like peppermint from his chapstick, like the wine you shared tonight. You cave into the way he holds you, hands wrapped around your body, palms pressed firmly against your figure. He holds you like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to remind himself that you’re real and here and that you are kissing him back, like he’ll forget once the moment ends.

But he need not worry about that.

When you part, you don’t even bother wiping off the stupid smile on your face, kiss-drunk and filled with glee. It’s been a long time since you felt this way. And Jungkook makes you feel things you don’t even think you can explain.

“How bold of you,” you comment, noses touching, barely an inch away from each other.

“I figured I’d shoot my shot,” Jungkook says. He shrugs, pretending to be casual, but you can see the way he’s grinning, beaming, down at you.

“You scored,” you remind him.

“How observant of you,” teases Jungkook in return. You pout a little at his playful mockery, heart fond. “Think we can do it again?”

“Hmm, I would tone down the ego first,” you say, already leaning back in to press your lips against his.

“Never.” He smiles wickedly.

It’s a quicker kiss this time, a short peck against his cherry red mouth, but it still makes your heart beat something terribly fierce.

“See you soon?” You ask when you finally pull away, knowing that as much as you’d like to, you can’t just stand out here kissing each other forever.

Jungkook nods, cheeks pink and warm to the touch. He looks so sleek in his formal black outfit, crisp button-down and slacks, hair all styled, but the way he’s grinning at you makes him look so young, so sublimely happy. It’s nice.

“Anytime.”

“There’s my favorite couple!” Taehyung greets excitedly when he swings open the door to his apartment to reveal you and Jungkook standing on the other side.

“What’s it to you?” You comment snidely as he lets you inside, the black sheet still taped up along his wall. It looks a little more wrinkled than when you last saw it.

“Oh, nothing,” Taehyung singsongs. He definitely knows a lot more than he cares to tell either you or Jungkook, but whatever. The project’s almost over and he’s almost finished with university entirely. “You guys are just cute together, that’s all.”

“Like you even know the half of it.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes.

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooh, do tell.” He grins that greasy, comic-book-villain grin of his as he starts moving his bar stools back to where the sheet lines his cream-colored wall.

“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” Jungkook poses, making you laugh from where you’re seated on the couch, watching Jungkook set up his tripod in exactly the place he wants it. You smile at him as you recline against Taehyung’s poor old leather couch, so worn-down from use that the back cushions fold in when you press against them, and Jungkook peers out from behind the camera to blow you a kiss.

You send him one back without even needing to think.

Taehyung misses the whole scene, but no doubt he’ll be putting two and two together pretty soon. You and Jungkook agreed that for the last interview you would be questioned together, long before Jungkook actually managed to romance you off your feet, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that the two of you being interviewed side-by-side will make things much more interesting.

Nevertheless, Jungkook sets up the camera and sends a thumbs-up your way when he’s ready, Taehyung sitting on the bar stool just outside of the frame with a couple of index cards in his hand.

“Let’s do this,” you say, hauling yourself onto the seat. Jungkook does the same shortly after, scooching onto the one next to you as you stare at Taehyung, waiting for him to start.

“Looking forward to this one?” Taehyung asks knowingly.

You shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little.”

“Excellent. Shall we begin?”

You and Jungkook nod.

“Alright. Well, this is presumably the last thing the two of you will be filming for your project. How are you feeling about it?”

“It turned out better than I thought it would,” you admit. It will come as a shock to no one that you did not have very high hopes for this project when it was first assigned.

“Of course it did, I’m your partner,” Jungkook teases, poking you in your side. “Would you ever doubt me?”

“Always,” you say.

Taehyung chuckles. “Sounds like it’s been good so far. Did you enjoy filming it?”

You nod. “Yeah, it was actually kind of fun. Except for when Jungkook spilled coffee all over me, that was not cool.” You turn to face Jungkook directly, and all he does when you say his name is wink and point at you.

“It was for the rom-com, I don’t know what you expected,” Jungkook said. “I gave you my jacket, too.”

“How gentlemanly.”

Taehyung chuckles, warm and low. “I’m sure Jungkook learned his lesson,” he muses. “What was your favorite thing to film?”

Not when I randomly texted you five minutes before I showed up at your door to make you ask me questions about how I feel, you think to yourself. Jungkook still doesn’t know, but you think you’ll put it into the movie just for the hell of it, so he’ll find out then. Find out that you were grappling with your feelings for him long before you ever let on.

“The serenade was a blast, a special shoutout to the Eighth Notes for doing that for me,” Jungkook says immediately. Obviously that is at the top of his list. “Plus, I just like seeing Y/N all flustered.”

“Shut up, you’re so annoying,” you chide. “I guess the serenade was kind of cute. I liked going out together, though. On our not-date.”

Jungkook objects to that instantly. “It was a date, Y/N!”

You look back at him, equally as scandalized as he. “Whose turn is it to talk?”

“Mine, actually,” Taehyung interjects. “Did you like going out together?”

You sigh a little, wondering if you’re really about to turn into a softie in front of a camera for a movie to be shown to your twenty classmates and professor. “Yeah,” you say, real and true because that’s what you agreed on, you and Jungkook. To be candid. To be honest. To say how you felt. Really. “It was really nice. I hadn’t gone out with someone like that in a long time.”

“And were you happy because of the project, or because of Jungkook?”

“Well,” you begin, not exactly sure where to start. “I guess, it’s like… you know, I didn’t even know Jungkook before this project. I mean, I knew who he was, he would always respond to my discussion board posts and object to everything I said in class. But I didn’t know him as a person. But as we worked on this project together, planning and filming and editing, I started to. And we did so many things together. And I guess I just really enjoyed the time we did spend as a pair.”

“Would you say the same, Jungkook?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says easily. “That’s what I wanted. To get to know Y/N, to spend time with her. I was glad we had this project. Otherwise, we might never have done something like this.”

“You both seem very happy.”

“I think we are. This project was actually sort of a blessing in disguise. I know him a lot better, now,” you say. “I’m glad that I do. He makes me smile, and laugh, and I always feel happy when he’s around. I don’t know. He did it, somehow.”

“Jungkook?”

“It wasn’t just me. Y/N and I did this together. We made this. This project. Us. It wasn’t just her, or just me. It’s ours.” Jungkook grins.

“Are you glad you did this project?”

Of course. It was fun, and I liked filming it, and I feel like I got something really important out of it. I know it’s just a short rom-com mockumentary, but it really feels like there was a happy ending, you know? A happily ever after.”

“You seem really certain about that.”

“Well,” Jungkook says with a little scoff, “what else would you call it?”

“As you can see, obviously Y/N fell head over heels in love with me thanks to this wonderful project—”

“Why are you always so full of yourself—?”

“Hey, you’re ruining the voiceover! As I said, as you can see, Y/N fell head over heels in love with me, but that wasn’t just because of my dashing good looks and amazing singing skills.”

“The ends of your hair look like hay—”

“It was because we were honest with each other, and because we spent meaningful moments together, and because we kept our hearts open. And I guess that’s the truth of it all, isn’t it? Love, romance, relationships? If you close yourself off, you’ll never get to experience them. But if you take every opportunity with an open mind, then you never know what might happen. Like falling in love with your discussion board nemesis.”

“Who, me?”

“Just let me finish, come on. There’s like one paragraph left. I know this was a mockumentary, not a scripted rom-com with professional actors and screenwriters and a whole team of editors. But that was the whole point. To make it real. And to make it between two people who aren’t just characters on a screen. We’re real people, and this happened to us. And it makes us happy. And it can happen to you, too. I think we all learn something every time we watch a new movie. Whether it be about loss, or promises, or other people. This time, we learned about love. Real love. How it can be rocky and strange and come straight out of left field. But also how happy endings aren’t just for movies and fairytales. We all deserve them. And Y/N and I found our own.”

“Are you gonna say it?”

“And so… they lived happily ever after.”

You look up at the screen, expecting to see the credits roll, but instead it’s a shot of the two of you kissing outside of your apartment building, a shot of you wrapping your arms around him as you press your lips to his. It lasts for only a few seconds, but you find yourself entranced in the moment, shocked that Jungkook somehow managed to capture it on film. He didn’t even have his camera with him that night.

Pollack turns on the lights in your classroom as your fellow classmates applaud, all of them looking genuinely pleased that your rom-com had such a wonderful ending. Pollack herself looks rather proud, nodding to herself as she smiles at the two of you.

“You filmed us kissing?” You hiss to Jungkook as your classmates clap, hoping the sound of it will drown out your conversation.

“I got Taehyung to,” Jungkook whispers back. “Why?”

“I just… I thought that night was just for us.”

“The rest of it is. But I thought the kiss would be a cute way to end it. You know, happy ending and everything.”

Alright, if Jungkook insists. You nod, tensing up slightly. You hadn’t even noticed Taehyung down the street, standing behind some utility pole with the camera raised to his eye. Had Jungkook texted him in secret? Asked him to meet you outside of your apartment? Was he planning on kissing you from the very beginning?

You shake your head, willing away the thoughts as Pollack commends the two of you for a job well done. Jungkook and you stand at the front of the room for a few more seconds, getting stared down by your fellow classmates while Pollack speaks. The period ends just as she finishes up, the minutes changing the moment she closes her mouth. Within a minute or so, the whole class has emptied out, some of them congratulating you and Jungkook on the way out.

“I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Jungkook says, eyes bright and filled with that same wonder he’s always got.

“Yeah,” you say distantly, nodding to him as he disappears out the door.

“You did an excellent job, Y/N,” Pollack praises, and it goes right to your head, if you’re being honest. “It was brilliant.”

“Thanks,” you say, suddenly rather shy. “That means a lot.”

“Don’t tell anyone else this,” she says, voice quiet, “but I was secretly hoping the two of you would fall in love.”

“Pollack!”

She laughs. “What? I thought you’d make a cute couple. And you do, so clearly it all worked out anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the code of conduct,” you say, even though you know you can’t be too mad at her. After all, you wouldn’t have Jungkook if it weren’t for her.

“Y/N, I’m tenured. I don’t care.”

“Wait…” you pause, eyes narrowing, “how many of your students have you set up with each other?”

Pollack grins. “I never reveal my secrets.”

Your mouth drops open.

She chuckles, shooing you out the door. “Go on, go be with your boyfriend. You can tell him you both get A pluses for your project. It was excellent. One of the best I’ve seen in a very long time.”

“Thanks, Pollack,” you say, smiling gratefully. “You’re the best.”

She points at you proudly as you head out the door. “So are you.”

Jungkook is waiting by the tables where you always sit, half a flight down from your classroom. He’s leaning against the edge of them as he scrolls mindlessly through his phone, so engrossed in the Instagram explore page that he doesn’t see you walk up.

“Guess what,” you say, getting all up in his face, just because you can.

“What,” Jungkook says, an eyebrow raised.

“We got an A plus on our project!” You exclaim happily, cheering. Jungkook laughs at your exuberant reaction, watches as you jump around, clapping loudly.

“Hell yeah, we did that!” Jungkook holds his hand up for a high five, one you gladly take. Your palms smack together and the sound reverberates around the hallway.

“You know, you and I—” you begin, placing your palms on his cheeks as you pull yourself in for a kiss, “we make a pretty good team.”

“Only because you’re so good at editing,” Jungkook says. You’re both not too bad, if you do say so yourself, but since Jungkook did so much of the filming you thought it would be better if you carried more of the weight when it came to post-production.

“Says you,” you tease, pressing your lips to his button nose. “The happy ending thing was a nice touch, I liked it. Makes me feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“I’m glad,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, admiring the way you beam at him. “You know, I was really worried that you might think we didn’t have a happy ending after all, especially after everything.”

“What do you mean?” You look at him curiously.

“Well, I just really wanted to make sure that we had a happy ending, because you’ve been through so much.”

You pause in place, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. Been through so much? Does Jungkook know something you don’t? Wait, no, did you… did you tell him—?

“You knew?” You ask, the realization piercing you like an arrow. “All this time, and you never said anything?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“How long have you known?”

He winces. “Since I walked you home when you were drunk. You told me.”

You did?

Shit.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have told me that you knew? Especially when I asked you if I had said anything embarrassing?” You cry out, indignant. “What, were you just planning on never telling me?”

“I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know that you had admitted all those things to me,” Jungkook admits, growing desperate. “They were really personal things, I thought you might react badly.”

“Oh, so you just decided to keep it a secret instead? Look how well that worked out.”

“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I know you would have been upset.”

“Tell me!” You exclaim. “I asked you if I had said something embarrassing that night and you said I hadn’t. And I believed you. Better to have known then than now!”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just tell me. Didn’t we say we would be honest with each other? But instead, you just let me assume that all of the nice things you did for me were because you actually cared, and not because you felt bad for me?”

“I don’t feel bad for you!” Jungkook shouts. “I mean, I do, but that’s not why I took you out on dates and gave you flowers and held your hand. I do care about you.”

“Oh, so filming us kissing was just because you actually cared, too, right?”

“I don’t know why you’re so hung up about that,” Jungkook points out.

“Because I thought it was a private moment,” you remind him. “You hadn’t filmed anything the whole night. I thought we were just going out on a date like two people who cared about each other did. Us kissing was personal. But you texted Taehyung and told him to show up with his camera anyway, right? Because you were planning on kissing me from the very beginning. Because you knew, Jungkook. You knew and you had absolutely no intention of telling me.”

“Y/N, wait, I didn’t do those things just because I pitied you,” Jungkook says, reaching out for your hand.

You pull away. “You didn’t? Then why did you film us kissing, then?”

“Because…” he flounders. You aren’t at all surprised. “Because—”

“Enough, Jungkook. I get it,” you stop him, shaking your head. “Everything we’ve done since that first date we had, when we went to the Italian place, everything since then—it was all played up. Because you felt bad for me. I had a shitty experience with love and you wanted to make me feel better. Whatever.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook chases after you as you begin to walk down the stairs, towards the exit. “I didn’t pity you. I still don’t. I did those things because I care about you, and I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you say, arms crossed over your shoulders as you push your way out the door. “I was so happy when I was with you.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

The door slams shut behind you.

“How many finals do you still have left? You finished your movie, right?”

Ruby is stirring herself a cup of earl grey tea as she sits down on the couch next to you, where you’re very obviously sulking as you scroll through the Feel Good Rom-Coms category on Netflix.

“I just have a couple essays and a presentation,” you mumble out. “You?”

“Ugh, I still have all of my final exams to take,” Ruby tells you with a thick, heavy sigh. Clearly, she doesn't feel like talking about them now. Or at all. “The life of a biology major.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor, not me,” you remind her crudely. “You better know your shit, or I’m never taking my kids to your practice.”

“Rude,” Ruby says. “There goes my family and friends discount offer.”

You laugh to yourself, a small smile inching its way across your lips. Ruby’s always known how to brighten your day, even when you feel like absolute shit.

“What are we watching, hmm? I’m cool with anything.”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, flicking through all of the rom-com options and feeling very unhappy with all of them. “I feel like you’ve seen all of these.”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “Whenever I’m not studying, I’m watching Netflix or The Bachelor.”

You nod. Maybe you’ll just settle on some old NCIS reruns and call it a night.

“Oh!” Ruby exclaims suddenly, a lightbulb going off above her head. “How about we watch your movie? The rom-com you did with Jungkook! I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t know…” You begin, the mere thought putting a bad taste in your mouth. For obvious reasons.

“Come on, please? I really want to see it, you were so excited about it,” Ruby begs, getting all antsy as she climbs all over you, literally pulling your arm to get you to cave in. “It’s short, too, isn’t it? Like forty-five minutes long? We can watch whatever you want afterwards. Please.”

You huff out a breath. If it were up to you, you would move that film onto a flash drive and toss it into a dumpster on fire. But it’s not just up to you. Ruby has been asking you about it since the day you told her you were filming it, and now all she wants to do is see the final result. And it’s only forty-five minutes long. What’s that when compared to the rest of your life?

“Fine,” you relent, not wanting to fight about it any longer. “Let me get my computer.”

Ruby cheers.

You bring your laptop over to your coffee table, turning off the ceiling lights as Ruby tucks herself underneath a blanket, hands warmed by her steaming cup of tea. You pull up the movie file and, taking a deep breath, press play.

It opens with your first interview with Taehyung, a muted, royalty-free lo-fi hip-hop song playing in the background. You had edited it so that it would jump back and forth between your answer and Jungkook’s, highlighting the contrast between the two of you. It was mostly for comedic purposes, just because seeing you deadpan about how love doesn’t exist and then quickly switching to Jungkook wax poetic about it is amusing, but watching it now just makes you want to curl into yourself.

You should have known that this would have never worked out. Should have kept that same jaded attitude. You let your guard down for one second and look at what’s happened to you.

The next scene that Jungkook shows is, of course, the moment he spills burning hot coffee all over you in the middle of the Starbucks, comedically panning up to your positively-flabbergasted face just to add to the shock factor. Next to you, Ruby laughs at the mishap, obviously amused by the fact that the two of you are now drenched in coffee and scrambling to clean up the mess. You try to focus your energy on how peeved you were at Jungkook after he did that, but get distracted the moment he films himself wrapping his denim jacket around you, placing it over your shoulders and making sure it’s just right.

He didn’t have to do that, and the two of you both knew it. But still, he sent you off your class all bundled up in a jacket that smelled like him, smelled of that boyish aroma that you couldn’t get rid of, even when you put it in the wash with your lavender detergent. All of Jungkook’s clothes smelt like that no matter how much cologne he put on, always smelt woody and thick. It would consume you, that scent, a cloud surrounding your figure whenever you were near him.

The movie keeps playing, and you keep thinking about how much of a fool you must look like in it now, all giggles and smiles as Jungkook sings Frankie Valli to you while he hands you a rose, that same sly little smile dotting his features. Hearing the song again makes you feel like you’re choking, like something’s smothering you, and you’re not sure what it is until you realize that it’s the sound of Jungkook’s voice.

You haven’t heard him sing since he serenaded you.

Then it’s your first date, the one Ruby told you to wear the yellow dress to (“Hey, I told you you looked amazing in it! Wow!” Ruby exclaims when she sees you). You remember when you edited this, putting the clips together of you eating at the restaurant, wandering around the park, posing underneath the trees, holding hands. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt while you were editing, grinning from ear to ear at all of the things the two of you did together. They were so picturesque, those scenes, so perfectly shot, so romantici—t did a fine job of convincing you that it was all real.

You even put in the little clip of you and Taehyung talking. A mistake, now that you look back on it, of course. It was so vulnerable, so real, so candid and honest like you said you would be, and now it’s all blown up in your face. You must have looked like such an idiot to Jungkook when he saw this scene for the first time in class. You remember the wide-eyed look on his face when it popped up. Like he couldn’t even believe you had done this in the first place.

Scoffing, you shake your head. You either.

The rest of it you can hardly bear to watch. Just a wrap-up of your relationship, a compilation of all of the small moments you shared when you didn’t realize that Jungkook was filming, when you dared whip out your camera to shoot for a second or two. Little clips that jump from scene to scene, shots of you laughing and eating and skipping along campus as you held hands. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s all over.

You don’t even listen to the final interview, not bothering to pay attention to what you or Jungkook have to say when you were there, when you can recall every word he’s ever spoken to you at the drop of a hat.

The truth is, you were always a goner for him.

And look how well that played out.

By the time the kissing scene comes up once more, you’re ready to set your whole laptop alight.

The screen turns black as it ends, fading away into nothingness, the instrumental slowly disappearing alongside the image. You shut your laptop when it’s all over, a little too angry for your own good, but you wrestle the scowl off your face as you take a drink of water from the glass sitting on the table.

“Wow,” Ruby says, speechless. She blinks at your closed laptop.

“Did you like it?”

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” Ruby says, which is a first. “It was amazing, Y/N. Seriously. Gorgeous. Like, cinematographically? Stunning. The shit on Netflix isn’t even as good as that.”

Even if you did have to sit through your stupid movie one more time, the compliments make you feel a bit better. “Thanks,” you murmur.

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “It was incredible. I’m just—I’m in awe. You and Jungkook have a gift, dude. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve watched in a really long time. And, like, not even in a cheesy, yucky rom-com kind of way. It was so… so genuine. So real. Wow.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to tell Jungkook, too,” Ruby says. “He did really well.”

“Yeah, he’s a great actor,” you say, a little too bitterly for your own good.

“What do you mean?” Ruby raises an eyebrow your way. “I didn’t think he was acting at all. It looked pretty real to me.”

You frown. “It did?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ruby says with an honest nod. “I mean, you did tell me it was a mockumentary and not just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. So wasn’t everything supposed to be real, anyway?”

“Yes…” you trail off, unsure of the direction of this conversation.

“Well, if you ask me,” Ruby says, all matter-of-factly, “I’d say he definitely fell in love with you.”

Something rushes through you. Something warm and bright and full of energy.

Hope.

Even though you have finished one of your finals early, finals week is still just as much of a slog as it always is. Three essays and two presentations deep, you aren’t finished any of them and the due dates are slowly creeping up on you, ready to pounce the moment the clock strikes twelve.

Eh, it could be worse. You could be Ruby and have six timed, proctored final exams on biology, anatomy, and chemistry. So you suppose you can’t complain too much.

Finals week sees you all holed up in your apartment like always, but more so this semester than any previous ones because you don’t feel like going to the library and risking seeing Jungkook there. Or anywhere, really. Since you presented on the last day of classes, you haven’t spoken since, and hopefully you can keep that streak going forever. You had made it until this semester without ever crossing paths despite being in the same major, so hopefully that luck will follow you.

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to call it quits for the night, having at least gotten mostly through two of your essays (just have to edit and proofread!) and worked on about half of your two presentations. Sighing, you get up from your couch and stretch, feeling your bones crack from sitting in the same place for hours on end.

You lean over to the floor lamp by the edge of the couch, ready to flick it off and head to bed, when you hear something outside.

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

You freeze.

The voice is soft and mellow, a little muted because it’s making its way through your wooden door before it reaches your ears, but it is unrecognizable. Even without the acoustics of the Eighth Notes, you know who’s on the other side.

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

Unable to resist, you wander to your front door, basking in the sound of him, in the way the notes float through the air as if on clouds, dancing along the walls as they sink into your brain. He sounds so sweet, voice warm like tea on a cold night, just singing his song on this empty, lonely night. But it’s not just his song, is it?

It’s yours, too.

You pull open the door.

“You’re just too good to be true,” Jungkook sings, a honeyed melody that calms the waves of your stormy heart, “can’t take my eyes off of you…”

But just because he’s here, serenading you once more, doesn’t mean he’s going to get it any easier from you. You fight to keep the smile off your face, pressing your lips together as you narrow your eyes at him.

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

He meets your eyes with his own, and they aren’t glinting in the way they normally do, the way that they do when he knows he’s doing something to grind your gears, when he’s got a trick up his sleep. They gleam like pearls as the dim glow of your apartment lights up his figure, warm yellow mixing with the caramel in his irises.

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

“And let me love you, baby…”

From behind him, Jungkook brings out a single red rose, twirling it between his fingers as he holds it out to you.

“Let me love you…” He trails off there, voice delicate as vanishes into the chilly night air, disappearing between the two of you.

You can’t help but take the flower from his hand. What else are you supposed to do?

“So?” Jungkook asks, hopeful.

“Don’t think you can just show up at my apartment and woo me back by singing to me,” you chide, even though he definitely can.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says simply, because there really is nothing else to say. “I should have told you.”

“I watched our rom-com again,” you tell him. “I should have believed you when you said you cared about me.”

“I always did,” Jungkook says. “I just wanted you to know that love was real, and that it was there for you.”

“I should have known,” you agree. You look up at Jungkook through lidded eyes, musing to yourself. “You know what I learned?”

Jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “What?”

“That love isn’t a feeling. It’s a person,” you explain, sighing pleasantly. “Love comes to us through the things we share with other people. That’s what it is.” Your thumbs twiddle in front of you, the pads of your fingers rubbing at the stem of the rose.

He takes a single step forward, reaching out to take your hand in his own. “And are you pleased with who you’ve found?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot.”

Jungkook obliges without a second thought.

There is no one to film you this time, no project to work on. There is only you, and there is only him. And there is only a lifetime that the two of you share, a story that you have told together, piece by piece, frame by frame. Your movie didn’t end once you finished editing. Nor did it end the moment the screen went black in Pollack’s class. It wasn’t even over when you watched it a second time with Ruby.

No, it continues on. Forever and ever, so long as you are with him. There will always be something new to capture, to burn into a disk so you’ll have it for eternity.

He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s not the end of the film. It’s the beginning of a brand new part, a new installment in the series that is your life with him. That is the relationship you have created together. His lips aren’t the fireworks as the credits roll. They are the scene where the two characters meet for the very first time and know that they were meant to be. The scene that sets all of the other ones in motion. That is who Jungkook is. That is what you are sharing, right now.

A brand new frame.

When you part, you press your forehead against his, soft blonde locks framing his face as they tickle your face, dancing along the skin of your cheeks.

“You called it a rom-com,” Jungkook points out randomly, just remembering now.

“Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook says, pretending to think about it as he rocks on the back of his feet. “Did it have a happy ending?”

You bring your lips to his once more, arms wrapped around his neck as you clasp the rose between your fingers. You make a mental note to press it later. Something else to remember him by. Something other than your movie.

Jungkook pulls you into him once more, hands resting firmly on your waist, letting his body press against yours as you stand there in the muted light of your apartment’s living room, letting the cool spring breeze wash over you. You smile against his lips, feeling your heart race when he grins back.

“Yes,” you declare proudly.

And so, they lived happily ever after.

↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook college au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #w: the art of the rom com #dudes this fic is so long my keyboard is lagging HAHAHA

4K notes · View notes

malleux · 4 years

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spell [2]. | corpse husband

part one ; part three

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

-> Warnings: Hate Comments, Self Doubt, Anxiety, Cursing

-> A/N: thank you for 1k notes on part one! i’m so glad everyone likes my work. it’s really nice getting this much love after taking a hiatus on my fire emblem writing blog. i hope y’all enjoy it and stay on the lookout for part three!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since you joined Sean’s Among Us stream.

While that was your first public appearance, you had joined three others after that and already you were blowing up on almost every social media platform you had. The attention was kind of nice, you had to admit, but sometimes the anxiety of becoming a public figure weighed heavily on your shoulders.

During that time, you turned to your friends who were used to such scrutiny: Sean, Felix, and now Corpse, who you’ve been talking to every day for those two weeks.

It was another one of those nights where, at 1am, you were on Facetime with said man. His screen was dark, as usual. He hadn’t shown his face yet and you respected that. You didn’t need to see him to talk to him, or be his friend, or develop a slight crush on him. All of which you did.

The call was relatively silent on your end. Corpse was on Facetime with you, yes, but he was also on a call in Discord, once again playing Among Us.

You often wondered if playing that game was all your new friends did anymore.

You stayed quiet, letting Corpse play the game and avoiding his fans finding out about your call. You had college work to finish anyways, so the silence was rather helpful.

“We should ask Y/N if she wants to play. I wanna meet her.” Sykkuno’s voice rang out from the Discord call. He was right- you’d never met him. He and Corpse seemed extremely close, though, so you’d love to talk to him. A friend of your crush friend was a friend of yours.

“She’s busy tonight.” Corpse responded.

“Yeah, she’s got an exam coming up- wait, how do you know?” Sean joined in, questioning Corpse.

“Uh, I mean we’re on Facetime right now, I guess.” Your heart sped up- now his fans knew. “She’s studying. We’re just hanging out.”

“Didn’t you guys ‘hang out’ last night as well? It seems like you’re trying to take my best friend away from me.” Sean joked back.

“I mean, I definitely am.”

Your breath caught in your throat. What was that supposed to mean? Sean was obviously kidding, but the tone in Corpse’s voice wasn’t the one he used when he was joking as well.

Felix suddenly butted in. “Ooooh, I think Corpse-y has a little crush.”

“And if I do?”

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

꧁꧂

Three weeks, now, that you’ve been talking to Corpse daily.

One week since Corpse’s crush comment and one week that you’ve endured countless mentions and tags on Instagram and Twitter, constantly talking about #CorpseY/N.

You didn’t really mind the shipping, often losing yourself in daydreams about driving those two hours down from your apartment in Los Angeles down to San Diego and running into his arms. It didn’t help when he mentioned wanting you to come visit one day.

You just worried about how Corpse felt about them. He was still relatively new to blowing up on the internet as well, his fame suddenly skyrocketing in the past few months, so you weren’t sure if he was comfortable with them. You didn’t want to bring it up, either, fearing that the discussion would make things awkward between the two of you.

For now, you were rather content with just scrolling through the #CorpseY/N hashtag, looking at the pictures and nice things people had to say about you both.

“they’re so cute when they talk to each other, you can just tell Corpse meant it when he said he was trying to steal Y/N away.”

“#CorpseY/N is my new favorite thing. Everyone shut up this is all I’ll be talking about from now on.”

“God why can’t they just be together already? #CorpseY/N”

Everyone was so supportive and sweet, it almost made you feel like you already were Corpse’s girlfriend. Although your heart hurt when you were brought back to reality, you couldn’t help but love the comments that everyone left. They were amazing.

Until they weren’t.

There are always two sides of the same coin. Along from the supporters and their loving actions, there were also those who seethed at the idea of you and Corpse.

They scrutinized everything about you to the point that you made your Instagram account- already with 30k followers- private.

Haters talked about you. Your body, your personality, how you weren’t worthy to even talk to Corpse and the rest of the Youtubers, and so much more. You’ve spent many nights with your Facetime mic muted so that Corpse couldn’t hear the small sobs coming from you.

These thoughts were almost always on the back of your mind, but you were sometimes able to push them away.

Like now- as you focused on your exam. Well, tried to focus. There comes to be a time where one can only hear so many negative things about themselves before they can’t ignore it anymore.

But alas, you tried your hardest and finished your exam, before walking out of the room and pulling out your phone. Now, you had a break before your new classes started and you’ve never been more relieved. You pulled up a certain contact and clicked on the message icon, beginning to type.

you:

i’m finished! up next, a break.

corpse:

I hope you did well. How long is your break?

you:

two weeks!

corpse:

Come spend it in San Diego

You stopped in your tracks, taken aback by the offer. You really didn’t think that he’d invite you over, but you weren’t about to complain. Instead, you sent back an ‘I’ll pack tonight :)’ and rushed home to do just that.

Corpse called you as you packed, just like he calls every night. You were used to the routine now, often falling asleep around 3am as he stays on the phone, doing whatever he does with his ruined sleep schedule until you wake up and say good morning.

Tonight, however, you were too jittery to sleep. You stayed up all night with Corpse, talking about anything and everything, like usual.

What wasn’t usual, though, was how distracted he sounded. It made you nervous- was he having second thoughts about inviting you over? Was something wrong?

Your thoughts nearly overwhelmed you, forcing you to say something.

“Are you okay, Corpse?” You tried to hide the small shake in your voice.

“Hm? Uh, yeah, yeah, everything’s good. Why?”

“It doesn’t sound like it. What’s going on? You’re acting off.”

His side of the phone was silent for a moment, before he let out a sigh. “I’m just thinking about what I’ve got to do before you get here tomorrow. Like, cleaning and stuff.”

“Pshh, that doesn’t matter to me.” You waved your hand, even though he couldn’t see it in the darkness of your room.

“It’s just that, my apartment isn’t… the best. It’s small and there’s only one bedroom and it’s kind of shitty. I just don’t want it to be even more shitty.”

“Corpse, I’m coming there to spend time with you, not your apartment. I don’t care what any of that shit looks like. I’m going to be looking at you and hanging out with you. Not your apartment.” You didn’t mean to go on a tangent of reassurance, but you truly meant all of your words. “Hell, I might not even see the apartment because I already know I won’t be able to look away from you.”

“I- God, give me a minute. That took me off guard.” He laughed. “But thank you. I may not even be able to clean because I’ll be distracted too.”

“By what?”

“You, standing in front of me, in person.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s a fucking dream come true.”

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taglist: @namjoons-crabssss @lookingforaplacetosleep @teenloves @princess00wifi @pillowjj @nvm-idgaf @creativedogs @wildflowerwhore @chillininahottub-withaghost @whyisquill @holosexualunicorn7000 @ourheavenlyemotions

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#fanfiction #x reader #fic blog #writing #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband #series #lay writes #youtubers #youtubers x reader

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starshapedkookie · 4 years

Text

Southpaw

pairing: jungkook x female reader (ft. a little sprinkle of namjoon)

genre: childhood friends to lovers, boxer jungkook, college/frat au

includes: swearing, angst, mentions of blood and violence, pining, smut (public/private, unprotected sex, hair pulling, jungkook is big guys, duh), alcohol, smoking weed, jungkook seems like an asshole but he’s really not, OC having a crisis every two seconds, some fluff here and there as well, also this takes place over many months just saying if time gets confusing

premise: Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

word count: 30k (she’s a monster sorry guys)

quick note: this is my first story back in a year(?) give or take some weeks!! kind of nervous to post & not sure if my writing has declined in anyway but nonetheless here is the beast that has been sitting on my computer since April 2019!! quick disclaimer I don’t know much about boxing so if I get stuff wrong - I apologize!! please enjoy & let me know what you think ❤️happy 7 years BTS!

recommended songs for reading: pray (JRY, RuthAnne), mushroom chocolate (6lack, quin), hallucinate (dua lipa), wus good/curious (partynextdoor)

_____

The evening was slow—after all, it was only a Wednesday. You had just finished serving a table of two—a young man and young woman—presumably on a midweek date. You didn’t recognize either of them which wasn’t surprising considering the campus grossed about 20,000 people. You began to wipe down tables out of boredom, glancing at the clock every two minutes hoping it would jump to when your shift was over in forty-five minutes. Thankfully, you didn’t have much work to do when you got home, but you are wishing to get in bed before 10:30 to get a full eight hours of sleep for your lectures tomorrow—something you had not had in about two months. Most days, like today, you were running on five hours of sleep and five cups of coffee. It wasn’t healthy, you knew that much, but it’s how you had to live your life. Your schedule was too demanding to hit the snooze button multiple times. You had shit to do—and getting your degree was the top priority.

“Y/N,” your coworker, Mark, called your name from behind of the counter.

“Yeah?” You respond.

“Will you come help me clean this out?” He asks you and you nod diligently.

“Of course,” you say, dropping your current task of wiping already clean tables. Mark was the one student that worked here you could stand to be around. He was very much like you in the sense that school came before anything—he too was on a full academic scholarship. He worked here before you, but he made you feel the most comfortable out of everyone. You would consider him a close friend at this point.

The espresso machine was a pain in the ass to clean and did call for two people most of the time. Besides, you would rather smell the remnants of coffee beans than the harsh chemicals of bleach gliding across a table.

“You have much work to do after your shift?” He asks you.

“No, thank god,” you shake your head, “I got most of my shit done between my classes today. You?”

“I have to write a ten page paper by midnight,” he sighs, “And guess how many pages I have started.”

You give him a short glance, “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say zero.”

“Damn right,” he smiles. A short silence between you two ensues before he speaks again, “Oh! Did I tell you I’m graduating early?”

“What? Really?” You look at him and an excited grin plays on his face. “When?”

“Yeah, I spoke to my advisor this afternoon and turns out, the classes I’m taking this semester is all I need for my degree,” he speaks with a relieved tone.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” you say genuinely, “I wish that was me,” you give out a small chuckle.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to keep stressing over this hell-hole,” he laughs, “The sooner I get out of here, the better.”

“I feel you on that,” you say, “I’m proud of you nonetheless, you’ve worked your ass off dealing with this scholarship.”

He gives you a small smile in return but it’s broken by the bell ringing from the door, signaling a new customer has decided to come in. Your eyes break from Mark’s and glance over to the door, your head doing a double take.

Your mouth goes dry when you see them—more specifically—him.

No, it wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had seen him outside of a frat party on the weekends. And truly, it was your first time getting a good look at him in awhile. You felt nervous—though you had no reason to be nervous. You had known him since long before your days as university students, but since you weren’t plastered in this scenario, looking at him seemed more like a chore than ever.

“You want me to get their table?” Mark asks you and you look back at him.

“No, I got it,” you say, throwing down the cleaning cloth, wiping your hands on your apron.

The small group of boys are too busy in their own conversation to see you approaching them. You clear your throat before grabbing some menus off of the podium.

“Hey guys, welcome,” your voice breaks their conversation. The three men your age turn to you all at once and a small smile erupts from one of them.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you worked here?” Taehyung—another person you knew all too well—smiles and speaks brightly

“Yup,” you say simply, “Just been here a little over a month,” you explain pressing the best smile you can muster up. “C’mon, I’ll get you seated and get your order in.”

You lead them towards the back of the small restaurant, seating them in a booth. As they follow you from behind, you can feel their eyes burning into your back and you feel like screaming at the top of your lungs. They sit down and you pass out the menus.

“What would you guys like to drink?” You ask, putting a hand on your hip.

“I’ll take a coke,” Hobi—you remember his name easily as you see him around in a few of your classes.

“Coke as well,” Taehyung says.

“Jungkook?” His name rolls off your tongue and it sounds foreign. You couldn’t remember the last time you had said it, let alone to his face. His brown eyes meet yours and he clears his throat.

“I’ll just take a water,” he finally speaks, his gaze breaking just as fast as it met yours.

“I’ll get those right out,” a grimace spreads on your face and you turn on your heels to fulfill their drink orders. You hadn’t expected the encounter to be so awkward and have so much tension—but what did you expect?

Your relationship with Jeon Jungkook was a strange one to say the least. You had known him longer than anyone you associated with—you meet each other at the tender age of eight in elementary school. You remember that day so vividly.

You had been assigned a seat right beside of him the first day of school. He kept his eyes away from you. Being the energetic child you were, you were expecting him to introduce himself but—he never did. It actually took being in school a whole week to get him to talk to you. You nudged his arm with your elbow and his eyes meet yours for the first time. You smiled at him, “I like your shirt,” to which he responded a small, “Thank you.” He picked at his nails and you smiled at him again, “I’m Y/N,” though he would already know that sitting beside of you. “I’m Jungkook,” he spoke again with a shy smile. That day would change both of your lives—all thanks to you and your mouth that couldn’t shut the hell up.

Four years later, at the age of twelve, Jungkook was your best friend. For four years, he was the one person you had came to all about your problems—he as well. The two of you would complain equally about school, he would complain about his older brother picking on him, you would complain about your younger sister bothering you nonstop—the two of you were more alike in more ways than you could imagine. Despite getting older and more different, you and Jungkook shared the same friend group. You had met a girl named Kim Jennie during a pre-algebra class and Jungkook had met a lively kid named Kim Taehyung—no they weren’t related but you often joked about it. It was nice having another close friend instead of just having Jungkook—especially a girl. You and Jennie had more in common than you and Jungkook and Jungkook and Taehyung and more in common than you two. But—the four of you clicked and you spent nearly everyday with each other.

At sixteen, a lot of stuff had changed. Yes, you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jennie had all remained best friends, but high school was definitely not the same as middle school. You and Jennie joined the tennis team, Jungkook and Taehyung joined the soccer team—Jungkook also joining the baseball team—which kept the four of you more separated than you would have liked. The four of you all sat together at lunch each day, but as each day passed, something felt different with Jungkook. And then, halfway through your second year of high school, the news broke that Jungkook had a girlfriend—a cute girl named Yuna—who was actually older than him by a year. You felt indifferent about it. He didn’t speak to you as much as he used to and he would ditch you, Jennie and Taehyung to hang out with her. It didn’t bother Jennie or Taehyung as much as it bothered you—but then again—you had known him since you were eight and it felt weird not being Jungkook’s number one girl. You hated to say it—but you were jealous and you had no idea why.

Two years had passed, the four of you all eighteen and fully legal now. It was the end of your last year of high school and you could not be more ready to leave. Growing up through high school together, the thought of all of you going to the same university was a dream. The four of you were excited to move on to new things. Jungkook and Yuna had broken up a few months prior, not being able to work through the distance of her being away at college. Jungkook soon started molding back to how he was before—texting you throughout the day, complaining, just being Jungkook—you were happy, happier than when he was with Yuna. It was May when you had received the news that you had been offered a full ride academic scholarship. You cried and cried tears of joy—finally busting your ass for so long had paid off. Jungkook was so proud of you, though he didn’t outwardly show it, the way he looked at you when you had told him was all you needed. Taehyung suggested it—a small celebration of sorts for you—a.k.a. the four of you getting absolutely plastered in his basement. Taehyung had managed to steal some alcohol from his parents and before the four of you knew it, beers had been downed and half a bottle of tequila had been drank. You were laying on the floor, giggling at everything Jennie did, dancing around the room with a bottle of vodka in hand. Jungkook had laid down beside of you, his eyes boring deep onto you. You crane your neck and give him a small smile, not realizing how little space was between the two of you. Jungkook supports himself on an elbow and it was then you had realized how handsome Jungkook had actually become. He spent so long away from you when he was dating Yuna, you didn’t realize how much he had grown into his features. That night—was singlehandedly the best and worst night of your life.

You had no idea what came over you, but you stood up throwing out your hand for Jungkook to take. He grabbed it with no hesitation, him towering over you as your chests touched and it was the closest the two of you had ever been. Jungkook had looked over to Jennie and Taehyung, still drinking and acting stupid, before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the closest bathroom and shutting the door. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you grip his shirt tightly. The next few moments are a blur—Jungkook kisses you—actually kisses you. He gripped your waist tightly, pushing you against the door. A small whine emitted from your lips as he pulled away and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He kissed you again, pulling your thigh up to rest in his hand. This was wrong—so wrong in so many ways. But neither of you stopped until a bang from the other side of the door broke the steamy makeup session.

That night changed everything between you two. Neither of you talked about it ever again. Despite being so drunk to the point of blacking out—you remember every detail—and so did he. That summer, you and Jungkook grew apart. And it was the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Now, at twenty-one, almost through university, you had interacted with Jungkook only a handful of times. You had studied together a few times your freshman year, but after your first year, you could count on your hands how many times you had seen each other. Most of the time, only seeing him at parties with other girls hanging off of him. It was painful to see. Even after 3 years of a drunken kiss in Taehyung’s bathroom, it hurt more than ever to see Jungkook with other girls—but at the same time you didn’t care. You had moved on and so did he. You two were now strangers but your life was good—you didn’t need him like you used to think. And he seemingly didn’t either.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Mark nudged you out of your obnoxiously long reverie and you jumped out of your skin. “Are you okay?” He asks.

You look down and realize that you haven’t taken the three of them their drinks, the ice now watering them down to shit.

“Y-yeah, I’m just tired is all,” you begin to pour out the drinks to get new ones before Mark stops you.

“Here, I’ll handle them,” he says, “You can go home early, it’s fine,” he smiles.

“A-are you sure?” You ask him, not wanting to leave him by himself.

“Yeah, it’s about closing time anyways. Just head out, I’ll close,” he nods with a smile and you can’t help but to throw you arms around him.

“Jesus, thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you one day,” you tell him pulling away. You wash your hands quickly and throw off your apron.

“Get home safe,” he says and you tell him the same before grabbing your bag. You glance one last time to the table in the back and unexpectedly, Jungkook is staring at you. It makes your breathing hitch and you turn around on your heel quickly, not wanting to linger on his gaze longer than you need to.

_____

The weekend comes slower than you would like, but it’s Friday which means one thing—time to go out and get a much needed dose of social life. You and Jennie had found yourself at the Beta Tau Sigma crush party at their fraternity house that evening.

“Here you go, m’lady,” Namjoon comes into your peripheral vision, handing you a drink he specially made just for you.

“Thanks,” you give him a small smile. You take a huge gulp without hesitation—you trusted Namjoon with your life. Not only was he on academic scholarship too, he was also the president of this fraternity which meant if he didn’t act straight—he would face serious consequences. The mix of brains, being ridiculously handsome, and being in a fraternity was a recipe for disaster—he was your type—bonafide. You were his type too which is maybe why the two of you clicked so well, particularly in bed.

“My feet are fucking killing me,” you groan glancing down at your heels, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Namjoon throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“At least you look hot as fuck,” he lips brush against your ear and you give him a glare.

“Isn’t hot kind of a degrading term in today’s world?” You press.

He narrows his eyes at you, “Fine—you look beautiful, cute, sexy—is that better?”

“Much better,” you nod playfully and Namjoon gets bold—pulling you even closer to him for a small peck on your lips. Eyes linger on the two of you but you couldn’t care. So many girls would love to be in your position and you feel lucky to have captivated Namjoon at least for now. Besides, he was good at fucking and you needed stress relief, as did he.

Unsuspecting, Jungkook waltzed his way into the room and he immediately stops when he sees the sight of you and his older brother Namjoon. He had heard rumors about the two of you, which he brushed off—you would never go after someone like Namjoon—oh who is he kidding? You and Namjoon are the same person and it kills Jungkook inwardly. The way Namjoon is nuzzled into your neck and the way you're smiling, giggling to every word he says, makes him feel uncomfortable. You looked so different at parties than how he saw you a few days ago at your work. Your legs looked sexy as fuck in your short black dress, your hair flowed down beautifully as opposed to being thrown up, the way red lipstick painted your mouth made him semi hard. Jesus, how after all this time, does he still think about you like this?

Your eyes break away from Namjoon and your smile falls when they meet a familiar set of doe eyes from across the room. Your breath hitches and Jungkook looks so handsome you want to die. His dark hair is slightly parted, his button up is undone at the top, and his legs fulfill his pants better than any guy here. He downs two shots, not breaking his gaze from you. You feel intimidated by his gaze and presence, despite having seen him at these things multiple times. The only difference is that now—he’s giving you some attention that you weren’t ready for.

Your gaze breaks away from each other when a group of loud boys—including Taehyung as well as Kai, another brother within the fraternity—come rushing into the room, hauling a keg in tow.

“Hyung! Come on,” Taehyung teases drunkenly as they set down the keg. There are many hyung’s for Taehyung in the room to not have specified which one he was talking about, until he deadpans on Namjoon. “Namjoon-hyung, come on!”

Namjoon begins to shake his head in protest, “I’d rather not,” he puts his hands up, keeping his distance from Taehyung, “Gotta keep an eye on this one tonight,” he nudges you and Taehyung’s eyes widen when her realizes it’s actually you, standing beside of his older brother.

“Y/N! Hey! What’s up! Didn’t expect to see you here, especially with this one again,” he narrows his eyes to Namjoon.

“Hi Taehyung,” you give him a small smile.

“Do a keg stand with me?” His eyes bulge out like a puppy dog and your own widens in shock at the question.

“Oh no,” you protest, looking up at Namjoon, “Last time I did a keg stand was freshman year and I said never again,” you explain to him. He gives you a pout.

“Fuck,” Taehyung says, “Well who is gonna do this shit with me then?” He sounds impatient and frustrated.

“Get Jungkook too—he’s been looking over in this direction for too long, give ‘em something to do,” Namjoon says and you look up at him. Did he notice Jungkook looking at you? Shit.

“Hell yeah, that little shit will definitely do it,” Taheyung smirks and yells for Jungkook to come over. Jungkook is preoccupied with a girl before Taehyung breaks his mojo from across the room. Jungkook sees Taehyung and you standing together and he furrows his eyebrows. He excuses himself from his pussy date for the night and saunters his way over towards your direction. You keep your eyes anywhere but Jungkook as he approaches you.

“Hey hyung,” Jungkook greets Namjoon, “Y/N,” he says slowly and you tense up. “What do you want Taehyung?” He spits out. He’s clearly buzzed as the attitude coming off of his tongue is stronger than usual.

“Do this fucking keg stand with me pussy,” Taehyung presses and Jungkook scrunches his nose.

“Fuck no,” Jungkook responds and Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“Come onnnn,” he drags out, begging his life long best friend to do it.

“Absolutely not, I’ve done it once and I said never again,” Jungkook says and your eyes nearly pop out of your head. Taehyung looks at you and Jungkook and shakes his head.

“I swear you two are the same person in a different body, it’s weird,” Taehyung says, “Your loss,” and Taehyung is soon leaving your side to find someone else to do his proposition.

Jungkook is left standing in front of you and Namjoon in an awkward silence.

“Don’t forget, you’re on clean up duty Jeon,” Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the younger man.

Jungkook groans, “Fine, whatever hyung,” his words run together as he gives you a final glance, “See you later Y/N,” is the last thing he says before he walks away to find the girl he was smooching up prior.

Namjoon gives you a weird look before you are furrowing eyebrows at him, “What?” You ask.

“What’s up with you two?” He asks motioning over to Jungkook.

“What do you mean?” You gulp down your drink hoping to hide the nervousness in your tone.

“Didn’t you two use to be like, best friends or some shit?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, when we were kids,” you chuckle.

Namjoon doesn’t seemed convinced, “I remember you two hanging out a lot during Jungkook's freshman year here, what happened?”

You shrug once again, “People grow apart,” you answer simply, not wanting to go in detail how one kiss basically ruined whatever your friendship was with him. Namjoon suddenly smiles, a dimple showing in his left cheek.

“You know he talks about how hot you are? Not all of the time, but I’ve heard it before,” he laughs and you freeze in your spot.

“What are you trying to prove by interrogating me Joon?” You say with some attitude. That was the least thing you expected to come out of his mouth.

“Hey, I’m just asking questions!” He defends himself, “I just didn’t know if something happened between you two—like you dated or something and shit got weird, I don’t know… just curious,” he chuckles a bit.

You eyes widen and you feel yourself getting warm, “Oh no, we never dated or…anything like that…” you trail off. “We’ve just grown apart, we’re too different now.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at you, “According to Taehyung you two are the same person.”

You glare at him, “Get me another drink,” you shove your cup into his hand and see laughs at you before sauntering away for a few seconds. He comes back with a full glass and you down half of it in a few seconds.

“Ew,” you scrunch up your nose. Nice, you think to yourself.

“Maybe you should talk to him? I’m sure having an old friend is nice every once in awhile,” Namjoon continues, clearly interested in your history with Jungkook.

“I have Jennie,” you answer, “Besides, conversation goes both ways. If he really wanted to be friends again, he could talk to me.” You knew that answer was stupid. Jungkook didn’t even speak to you when you were younger. You were the one that initiated the friendship, not him, and you knew that.

“Whatever you say space cowboy,” Namjoon draws out and you give him a glare.

“Did you just quote Kacey Musgraves?” You ask with a small smile on your face.

“Fuck yeah I did,” he smirks, “She’s a gay icon are you kidding me, I’m obsessed with her.”

“Joonie, you’re not even gay,” you laugh.

“So? I love anyone who supports gay rights! Don’t discriminate my quotes!” He defends himself and you cannot help but laugh at him.

“Let’s go dance,” you grab his hand and pull him out of the kitchen onto the main dance floor. Namjoon was perhaps one of the more attractive people you’ve met here in your four years. He oozed sex appeal and charisma, which is why anytime he wanted to hang out or take you to a party—you obliged. If it meant getting in his bed at the end of the night, wearing the heels was worth it.

Namjoon puts his hands on your waist and the two of you dance to music in the crowded dance floor. Namjoon grabs a bottle of liquor from one of his other brothers who you have never met before and the two of you share a nice gulp of the cheap—but very strong—vodka.

You haven’t had too much to drink but you know if you drink anymore, you will not make it back to your apartment. You push the bottle away from you and turn to face Namjoon. His brown eyes stare into yours with a glassy, tipsy appearance, and he smirks at you.

“What?” You question him as his grip gets tighter on you.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you looked hot,” he says smoothly and you roll your eyes yet again.

“How sweet,” you grumble, biting down on your bottom lip. Without a warning, he leans in and pecks your lips gently. The alcohol in your veins surges through you as you lean back in and close the gap. Even in your heels, you still have to crane your neck some to fully reach his stature. His hands grip your waist tightly and you tug at his light brown locks, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

He presses himself into you a little bit harder and you can tell he wants you, his hands gripping one at your waist and the other one in your hair. Everything around you goes blank was it only feels like the two of you in the room together. Unfortunately, your moment is ruined when someone bumps into the two of you, knocking you apart. Namjoon steadies you and he glares at the two girls that ran into you.

“You want to get out of here?” Namjoon says into your ear, his breath fanning over your neck sending chills down you body.

“Yeah,” you nod a little too excitedly and he grabs your hand pulling you away from everyone. Namjoon is taking you up the stairs before someone calls out your name.

“Y/N!” You turn around in Namjoon’s grip to find Jennie holding onto the railing of the stairs, swaying back and forth drunkenly.

“Oh god,” you mutter.

“Is she okay?” Namjoon asks as he follows behind you back down the stairs. No, in fact, she looks terrible.

“Jennie, what’s up? I thought you were with Suzy?” You ask her and her face scowls.

“I was, but then… he showed up,” Jennie says, knowing exactly who she is talking about, “And he brought another girl with him! Y/N, what’s wrong with me? Am I not good enough for him?” Jennie is rambling as tears began to flow down her face. You look at Namjoon as he assesses the situation.

“I-I can get an Uber for her, if you’d like?” Namjoon offers and you nod.

“Please?” You beg and Namjoon grabs your hand squeezing it reassuringly before walking away to get the car.

“Jennie, come on, snap out of it,” you tell her and she continues to sob in your arms.

“Y/N, I don’t get it, I love him and he says he loves me but he does this shit all of the time,” she rambles.

“I know, I know,” you try to calm her down, “Jennie your drunk right now, but you’re so much better than him. I know you don’t realize it, but you are—“

“He makes me feel like shit,” Jennie sighs and you cradle your friend. Unfortunately, Jennie doesn’t have the best taste in men and she finds herself stuck in toxic situations she can’t get out of. You wish you could help more then you do but when Jennie is drunk, it’s hard to get anything through to her.

“Come on, let’s go to the bathroom,” you pull her up before she starts fighting you.

“I don’t need to use the bathroom though,” she pouts.

“Well, you might, let’s go,” you manage to hold her up and get to a bathroom in a hallway that isn’t too crowded. You reach for the handle only to be disappointed that it’s locked. Great.

You beat on the door with your free hand, “Hurry up in there! I have a crisis hanging off of my arm!”

“Hey, don’t call me that you bitch,” Jennie frowns and you roll your eyes, knowing she won’t remember any of this in the morning. You beat on the door again and again and again and finally, someone unlocks it and opens it fully.

The sight makes your eyes widen and your body heat up on fire. In front of you stands Jungkook against the counter zipping up his pants and the girl he was with earlier standing from her knees, wiping her mouth with a smirk. She leaves the bathroom, leaving you standing there with Jennie alone. When his eyes meet yours, his face goes ghostly pale. His mouth parts open and he feels like crawling into a hole to die.

“Y/N, Jennie?” Is all that comes from his mouth.

“Move Jungkook,” you say sternly and he moves to make room for you two in the bathroom.

“Uh, do you need any—“

“Leave Jungkook, I don’t need any help,” you say frustrated at the sight you just witnessed. You don’t know why you felt angry at him. You knew that he slept around like most fraternity boys—but to see him after getting sucked off in a bathroom—was new territory. Not only did it bring up the memory of you and him back in Taehyung’s bathroom all those years ago, it made you physically sick to know that you were just a pawn for him then. Who are you trying to kid? You were nothing to him. Once he figured out what his dick was used for, that’s all he cared about. Christ, you say to yourself, fuck him.

Jungkook leaves the two of you alone and within seconds, Jennie is over the toilet hurling her entire stomach up. You hold her hair back as she heaves into the toilet, trying not to gag yourself.

“Y/N,” she mumbles, “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, just keep it in the toilet please,” you say looking away at the sight.

Thankfully, Namjoon appears at the door. “The Uber is here,” he announces.

“Come on, we’re going to get you home,” you tell her, wiping her mouth with some toilet paper.

“Home?” She asks, “Thank god.”

Namjoon grabs her other side as the two of you carry her outside into the fresh air. You have to admit, the fresh air as sobered you up slightly. You spot the car waiting up front and Namjoon opens the door for Jennie.

“Thank you so much,” you tell Namjoon as he helps Jennie into the car.

“It’s seriously not a problem,” he smiles, “You should go with her,” he suggests and you feel your heart drop.

“A-are you sure?” You ask, subtle disappointment in your tone.

“Yeah, it’s fine—we’ll pick up another time,” he gives you a wink and you smile back.

“Okay, thanks again.”

You load into the back of the Uber with Jennie and you just pray that she doesn’t hurl in the car, for the sake of you and the Uber driver’s car. You were not about to pay the $200 fee for puke in the backseat.

_____

The next morning comes all too quickly in your deep sleep. When you wake up, you are not expecting Jennie to be in your bed with you. You had nearly forgotten she refused to sleep in her own bed last night, therefore you having to give in to her wishes of sleeping with you. Thankfully, you don’t feel like you have too bad of a hangover. For Jennie though, you know she will probably be in bed all day with a bottle of Tylenol at her bedside.

You check your phone and your eyes nearly burst from your head. It’s 1:07 PM.

“Fuck,” you groan to yourself. You did not need to sleep this late considering you absolutely needed to study for your exams on Monday. Not only was it an exam—it was your midterm exams in your human sciences and financial analytics classes, two classes that were kicking your ass. The longer you laid in your bed, meant the longer you were losing time to cram in your studying. You swig the sheets and blankets off of you to find yourself still in your party dress from last night. You grab a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your wardrobe before heading to the bathroom.

Your appearance makes you shudder when you seeing yourself in the mirror. You didn’t even take off your makeup, mascara and lipstick stains spread out on your face. Now it was time to really pray that you wouldn’t breakout from the old layer of foundation on your face. You grab a makeup wipe to get the gunk off of yourself before you step into an insanely hot shower.

You manage to shower quickly, scrubbing your body and face off of any stench left of you from last night. You step out, moisturizing each crevice that you can reach before you throw on your clothes. You feel 200% better now that you have showered and you can hear footsteps coming down from the hallway. Jennie appears at the bathroom door rubbing her eyes harshly.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” you comment and she stretches out her limbs, her dress hiked up far up her legs where her underwear is showing.

“Ugh!” She groans loudly, “My head is pounding. What the fuck happened last night?”

“There’s some medicine out in the kitchen,” you say as you follow her out into your living room and kitchen area. She goes immediately to the medicine cabinet and downs two pills with ease.

“Where are you going?” She asks as you began to gather up your school work into your book-bag.

“I have to study,” you tell her and she closes her eyes again, the sun being too harsh for the light.

“It’s Saturday Y/N,” she says obviously.

“I know,” you zip up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “But I have two midterms Monday—I can’t make below a B or I can get in trouble with the dean,” you explain and she nods, her sleepy gaze staring at you.

“Well, have fun. I’ll be here—dying,” she grins and you salute her off, leaving your shared apartment to go to the campus library.

The library is only about a ten minute walk and thankfully, not many students are flocking to the location on a Saturday afternoon. You assume that everyone is either hungover like Jennie or just don’t give a shit enough to come out and study.

You grab a coffee from the small coffee shop outside the library before you go in, sit down, and get to work on your studying. You turn on your classical music radio as you take out out your printed slides, notes, and textbooks. As strange as it is to say, as much as you hated studying—it’s where you felt the most comfortable. You knew you were smart and you knew school was your strongest trait—everyone knew that about you.

You go through each chapter of your human sciences class, writing and rewriting notes on new sheets of a paper. You make flashcards as you go along. You answer the obnoxiously long quiz questions at the end of your textbook as you go along.

Thankfully, you haven’t had any distractions and before you know it, it’s been nearly two hours since you first sat down. Your coffee is now cold but you don’t care as you need the caffeine to keep you going. You are about to pull out all of your analytics material before suddenly, a coffee cup in placed on the table in front of you. You look at the source and look back down until you look up again.

“Jungkook?” You ask pulling out one of your earbuds. His face is tired, the bags underneath his eyes prominent. He’s wearing a gray tracksuit, his hair messy underneath his somewhat contained beanie.

“H-hi,” he says simply, “Can I sit?” He asks referring to the chair across from you. You nod as he slings his backpack off and into the floor as he plops down in the chair.

“Hi,” you speak lowly. There’s tension between the two of you. It’s uncomfortable. You hate it, almost as much as you hate the sight you saw last night. “What’s up?” The question is simple, but forced.

He shrugs, “I dragged myself out to study despite my busting headache,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

“Jungkook in the library? To study? Did I hear that right?” You ask and he laughs slightly.

“Yup, unfortunately you did,” he answers before letting out a sigh. “I uh, got you this,” he slides the coffee cup over to you and you furrow your brows. You face heats up. Why would he buy you a coffee? The time Jungkook bought you something was a card and flowers the evening of your high school graduation, why the hell would he buy you a coffee?

“Thanks,” you laugh awkwardly grabbing the cup from him. You take a sip from the cup and realize it’s exactly how you like it. Three creams, an espresso shot, and a dash of vanilla flavoring. “How’d you know this is what I like?” You ask.

“Uh, you told me a few years back,” he says shy, his gaze ripping away from you. “I assumed it was the same, thank god,” he laughs trying to lighten up the mood.

“Thanks,” you repeat, unsure of what to say.

“Uh, how’s Jennie this morning?” He asks you with a genuine concern. You look from him, not being able to hold his gaze without burning up.

“She’s fine,” you say, keeping your eyes on your notes and hands in front of you.

“That’s good,” he says awkwardly. His leg is bouncing uncontrollably underneath the table and he feels like he needs to throw up.

“Why did you buy me this?” You ask him. He wants something, you can feel it.

“Um, no reason, I-I just saw you h-here and I know how much you love coffee,” he stumbles over his words and you meet his gaze again, before giving him a glare.

“Hm,” you mumble.

“Listen Y/N,” he starts, sounding more clear of his words, “I know we don’t really have a relationship anymore but, I-I just wanted to apologize to you about… the bathroom… last night,” he sighs and he hangs his head down for a second.

Your expression is blank and you shrug your shoulders with a small head shake, “Don’t worry about it.”

He nods slowly before a silence falls between you two.

“Listen, um I really have to get back to studying for my midterm tomorrow. Thank you again for the coffee,” you say with a small smile, trying your best to be cordial with him.

He nods getting ready to stand up but he stops abruptly, “What are you doing this week?”

The question catches you off guard.

“Oh, um,” your mouth is dry and it’s hard to find the words, “Probably studying, working, I don’t know,” you shrug again.

“Well uh, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up?” He bits his lip nervously, “We haven’t hung out in awhile, I thought maybe we could catch up?”

Awhile would be an understatement. The boy and you exchange another glance before you begin to nod hesitantly.

“Sure,” you answer simply.

“Cool,” he responds, “You still have the same number?” He asks. The question is weird. How is it that your best friend of so many years has to ask if your number is the same?

“Yeah,” you nod. He nods too, saying a quick goodbye before you watch as his built frame disappears into another corridor of the library, your eyes lingering a little too long on his built frame. What the hell was that?

_____

On Monday, both of your exams go a lot better than you were expecting them to. Your human sciences exam had already been graded and you made a 94 which in turn meant you were over the moon. Now you could only hope for that in analytics.

You know sat across from Jennie at one of your campus’s sandwich shops eating a late lunch.

“I don’t even know why you stress so much about your grades Y/N,” Jennie says, “You always end up with an A.”

“Jennie, I worry because if I don’t get A’s I can get kicked out of the honors program, you know this,” you say with pointed eyes, “Besides, I made a B in that business statistics class I had my freshman year, I’m still pissed about that!”

“Boohoo, I got a C minus in that class,” Jennie rolls her eyes, “All I’m saying is, you just need to loosen up. I know school is stressful but I know that you have to be going crazy.”

“I am going crazy Jennie,” you whine, “I’m just glad we don’t have much longer,” you sigh heavily.

“You and me both,” she adds, “I’m sorry I interrupted your stress relief the other night,” she says.

“What?”

She laughs, “You almost got dicked down by Namjoon and I ruined it,” she pouts and you giggle at her.

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, “He said we could pick it up another time.”

“Good, his fine piece of ass is something you gotta keep,” she smirks. Suddenly, your phone makes a ding on the table and you grab it quickly. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the text message.

[3:32 PM Jeon Jungkook] hey do you still want to do something this week?

“Who is that?” Jennie asks you.

“Uh, nobody,” you shake your head putting the phone back down.

“It most definitely is not nobody—your eyes are huge,” she points out. Dammit.

“Um,” you start, “Well last week at work, Jungkook, Taehyung, and their friend Hobi came in later at night,” you tell her, “And it was awkward and then I saw Jungkook at the party on Saturday.”

“We see him all the time at the parties we go,” she shrugs.

“I know, but then he came up to me in the library the other day…and bought me a coffee,” you finish.

Jennie’s eyes widen. “What?”

“I know right,” you say.

“Wonder what he wants from you?” She purses her lips.

“He asked if he wanted to go out this week,” you shrug, “He said we haven’t in awhile and he wanted to ‘catch up’,” you say.

Jennie’s eyebrows furrow. “Hm,” she mumbles, “Well are you going to?”

“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly, “I think I’ve seen enough of him to last me awhile.”

Jennie grimaces at you, “Come on Y/N,” she says, “You and Jungkook used to be inseparable, I don’t even know what the fuck happened to you two.”

“We just grew apart Jennie,” you tell her.

“Friendships like you and Jungkook don’t just ‘grow apart’,” she uses air quotes.

“Believe what you want,” you mutter, picking at your food suddenly not feeling too hungry.

“Why wouldn’t you go? There’s nothing stopping you is there?” She presses.

“Not exactly, but… I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” you mumble.

“Y/N, he’s your oldest friend,” she says, “You’ve known him longer than anyone else here, I know that you miss him as your friend,” she goes on.

“I don’t know Jennie, we’re not the same people we used to be. We’re not compatible as friends anymore, it’s weird.”

“How can it already be weirder than it is now? It’s weird as fuck that you two grew up together and don’t speak to each other anymore. I’d say go, just hangout, who knows what might happen,” she reasons and you cannot help but agree with her.

You don’t say anything else as you pull your phone back out.

[3:38 PM Me] Yeah I’m free tonight if you want to do something!

_____

Jungkook picks you up at seven on the dot. You feel nervousness settling in your stomach and you suddenly care about your appearance. When you open the door of your apartment and welcome him in, you have to tell yourself to keep your mouth closed.

He’s dressed in a sweatshirt and ripped jeans but he looks…so good? You hope you aren’t overdressed in your dress and denim jacket and he smiles when he meets your gaze.

“Hey,” he greets you and you welcome him into your apartment—a place he has never been.

“Hi,” you say grabbing your keys from the kitchen. “Jennie!” You shout and she emerges from the laundry room

“Yeah?” She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Jungkook. “Oh, hey Jungkook.”

“Hi,” he smiles.

“I’ll be back later,” you tell her, “What are you doing tonight?”

“I have to write a report and I guess I’m going to do your laundry since you’re lazier than shit,” she presses. You throw up your middle finger and turn to Jungkook.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

_____

“Where are we going?” You ask him as you make your way outside, keeping a relative distance between you and him.

“You hungry?” Jungkook proposes, almost with a playful tone.

“Mhm,” you mumble, looking down at the ground as you walk. This was weird… so fucking weird. The last time you and Jungkook had hung out was around two and a half years ago—not even shitting. You wonder if he still liked the same things, had the same hobbies, ate the same food, but you were completely unsure of yourself in this circumstance. The nervousness hasn’t settled in your stomach and your mind wonders if he’s nervous too.

“Alright, c’mon,” he says and you meet his gaze before he changes direction with you in tow.

It’s not even a five minute walk—mind you, in silence—until we reach the place Jungkook had led you to.

“Really Jungkook?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you step into your all too familiar work place.

“What?” He laughs, “The food is good,” he continues.

“I’m starting to think you brought me here for my employee discount,” you press to him and he tilts his head.

“You have an employee discount?” He repeats, “Good to know,” he chuckles and in turn, you return a small laugh, feeling a little more comfortable.

Mark isn’t working tonight, but unfortunately, a girl named Kyla is and you absolutely despise her. Her biggest personality trait is just being a bitch—a bitch for no reason! Sure, you can have your bitchy moments but you’re not going to be a bitch to someone unless they deserve it.

“Y/N… Jungkook,” Kyla says slowly, looking between the two of you. “Just sit wherever you like,” she says. The restaurant is free real estate as you two are the only ones here.

You choose a booth, sliding in on one side, Jungkook on the other.

“Do you know her?” You ask Jungkook once she walks away from your table.

Jungkook looks pale, “I’ve met her, once or twice,” he says and it’s all the confirmation you need to understand that means he’s fucked her once or twice.

You don’t say anything else as you look through the menu, already knowing exactly what you want.

“When did you start working here?” Jungkook asks you.

“Oh, about a month ago,” you say. He already knows that. I guess you and Jungkook are really too that point, huh? Small, dull, repetitive conversation?

“How did your exams go?” He asks, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s nervous—you can sense it.

“Better than I thought,” you answer honestly.

“Hm, let me guess—you thought you did terrible but ended up getting an A,” he reads you perfectly.

“Hey! I don’t think like that,” you say even thought you know that is a fat lie.

“Come on Y/N, you’ve been that way since we were fourteen. Lying sends you to hell you know,” he raises an eyebrow at you and you look away from him to suppress your laugh.

“Fine. I got a 94 on one of them, I don’t know about the other one yet,” you tell him.

“See, you’re a genius,” he says and you shake your head.

“Most definitely not,” you say.

“I was always so envious of you growing up, you just sat there in school and you just… got it,” he says remembering back to your younger days, “All of us were jealous of you,” he adds.

“I can guarantee nobody was jealous of me Jungkook,” you give him a grimace, “We all were stupid in our own ways, maybe you more than anyone else,” you decide to pick on him since you’re feeling more relaxed as the conversation keeps going.

“Hey, no need to shit on me like that,” he gives you a pout.

Your phone suddenly vibrates against the table. It’s probably Jennie, you think to yourself as you flip the phone over. To your surprise, it’s not Jennie—It’s Namjoon.

[7:28 PM Kim Namjoon] hope you had a good day

[7:29 PM Kim Namjoon] mine would be a lot better if you were sitting on my cock right now

Your eyes widen and you flip the phone back over with a slam to the table. Jungkook looks at you curiously.

“Whose that?” He asks.

You want to lie, but Jungkook can tell when you’re lying. “Just Namjoon,” you tell him, “He was asking about some homework.”

Jungkook nods slowly before chewing on his bottom lip again, “You and hyung are good friends?”

Your face drops and you don’t say anything.

“I’m just asking since I’ve seen you guys together at our parties,” he adds while clearing his throat.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” is all that comes from your mouth. Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read but you can tell he knows you’re not saying what you’re actually thinking. What he wants you to do is be honest with him and tell him that yeah, you and Namjoon fuck from time to time, but of course, he doesn’t get that answer.

About twenty minutes later, Kyla is bringing your food.Your stomach growls as the scent of the food comes into your nostrils. The two of you begin eating, keeping some small talk between the two of you.

“Are you still a business major?” You ask him as you chow down on your French fries loaded with ketchup.

Jungkook scrunches his face up, “Hell no,” he shakes his head.

You stop your chewing momentarily, “Oh,” is all you can muster. “I’m sure that went over well with your father.”

Jungkook gives you a short glance, a smirk across his face, “It went as well as you can imagine.”

Growing up, Jungkook was expected to go to college, get a business degree of some kind and him and his older brother were to takeover his father’s company by the time he was 30—you would know, Jungkook would secretly complain to you about nonstop as teenagers.

“What are majoring in now?”

“Photography and film,” he answers boldly.

“Oh, wow,” you tell him, “That’s a big move.”

“I’d rather die than being forced to do something I don’t want to do, that’s no way to live life,” he munches on his burger, his eyes looking straight into yours.

“How’s Taehyung?” You ask him.

“He’s good,” he laughs a little bit, “Would you believe it if I told you he has a girlfriend?” He cocks his head slightly.

“Taehyung? And a girlfriend?” You say in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he chuckles, “It’s weird though, he won’t introduce me to her, hell he won’t even tell me her name.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “That is weird,” you pause, “Maybe he thinks you’ll steal her,” you smirk jokingly.

Jungkook shakes his head, “Taehyung’s got more game than I do, trust me,” he says with a laugh.

“I’m assuming you don’t have a girlfriend?” You ask him nervously, biting down on your bottom lip.

Jungkook stops eating and rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek, “No, I haven’t dated anyone since Yuna really.”

The confession surprises you and you somewhat don’t believe him.

“Why not?” You press.

He shrugs, “Just haven’t found anyone I like I guess, like, really like, you know?”

You nod understandingly. Before Namjoon (whom you aren’t even dating) you had dated this guy for awhile and he was nice but you were bored as fuck in that relationship. Thankfully, you moved on from that onto better things.

Once the two of you finish your meals, Jungkook pays before you can protest and you leave the restaurant around 8:30 PM. You shove your hands into your jacket and walk along beside of Jungkook, lazily kicking rocks when you come across them.

“So, what did I do to deserve a free meal and a coffee from Jeon Jungkook in the span of two days?” You look up at him and he glances down to you quickly.

“I said I wanted to catch up, how else was I supposed to do that?” He smirks and you hit his arm playfully.

You don’t say anything so he continues.

“I don’t know, it’s just when I saw you last week working, I hadn’t seen you in so long… let alone speak to you,” he pauses, “It made me realize that I miss our friendship, I missed us…” he trails off, looking straight ahead.

“Why didn’t you reach out sooner?” You ask him seriously.

Jungkook hesitates some, “You could have reached out too, the phone works both ways” his words are unexpected, harsh. And they somewhat hurt.

You don’t say anything again, feeling a sting in your chest.

“I didn’t mean it like that Y/N,” Jungkook say, stopping his path to stand in front of you, “It’s just… we haven’t spoken in so long. I feel like you’re a completely different person ever since we got here to university. I don’t know what happened—“

“You don’t know what happened?” Your tone is sharp. “Are you stupid Jungkook?”

He looks taken aback, “W-what?”

“When we were eighteen and you fucking kissed me that’s what happened and that’s when shit changed Jungkook, don’t act like you don’t know,” you sound angry to which, you are. Talking about this gets you riled up.

Jungkook lowers his head, “We should have talked about that, I know but—“

“But what Jungkook? It ruined our friendship and you know it.”

“I ruined it?” He now sounds pissed off. “What ruined our friendship was you acting like I didn’t exist once we got here to college. You blew me off and blew me off time and time again,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I tried to maintain this friendship and you know it. If that stupid, fucking, drunken kiss bothered you that bad, you should have been a big girl and told me.”

You feel frustrated and you feel tears are threatening to spill out of you. You want to comeback with something, but you know he’s right. He did try and you were the one to put distance between you both.

“I-I,” you start but no words come out. “I’m sorry Jungkook. It’s just when we got here, things got more complicated and more stressful, and I couldn’t afford distractions—“

“So I’m a distraction now?”

“What? No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” you shake your head in protest.

“So, hanging out at fraternity houses every weekend, getting hammered with Jennie every weekend, smoking pot once in awhile, and fucking Namjoon isn’t a distraction? But your best friend of fourteen years is a distraction?” Jungkook’s words come out in a frenzy and you feel slightly attacked.

“Excuse me what? Jungkook no—“ you stop yourself from speaking. You know he’s right but that doesn’t give him a right to attack you like that. “So, what’s your excuse then for not being the bigger person than, huh? Getting sucked off too many times in a bathroom and you realized you don’t need my attention anymore? Huh?”

Jungkook’s eyes darken and you can tell he’s pissed off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asks you.

“Jungkook, you’re my oldest friend—“

“You don’t treat me like it—“

“Well neither do you,” you back go back and forth with each other. You’re frustrated. Angry. Sad.

Jungkook is fighting a battle in his head. “I’m sorry okay,” he says, “I think we both can admit we’ve acted shitty to each other.”

You look away from him staring aimlessly at your lap, “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Neither should have I,” he says. “I just wish you had told me about that stupid kiss, we could have talked through it Y/N. I wasn’t thinking back then.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Jungkook’s eyes look panicked and he scratches the back of his neck.

“I had a stupid little crush on you at the time okay? And alcohol doesn’t help, it only intensified my feelings.”

“What?” Your mouth drops agape at the confession.

“I know, stupid right,” he shakes his head, “Fuck I wished we had discussed this sooner because this is so embarrassing,” he laughs while shaking his head.

You’re in disbelief. Jungkook liked you? How did you not know? It makes your insides tingle at the thought, but you know you shouldn’t get excited so you drown out the feeling deep within you.

“Well, that was years ago,” you tell him, “All we can do now is look ahead,” your breath is uneven and shaky.

“You’re right,” he mutters, “I really am sorry Y/N, I-I just want you as a friend again—“

“I forgive you Jungkook. And I’m sorry too.”

What Jungkook does next is unexpected but all too familiar. He grabs your chin and squeezes it in his hand. You swat him away with a laugh as he pulls you in by an arm. You oblige his movements and rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you keep walking. There’s something oddly intimate about this gesture. And the whole atmosphere has changed but you like it—it feels… like home.

“Can I ask you something?” You mumble.

“You just did,” he laughs and his chest rumbles underneath you.

“Shut the fuck up,” you lean up from him with a smile, “Namjoon said you talk about me a lot…?” You trail off your question. You could be sneaky if you really wanted to be.

“He did?” Jungkook panics. Fucking Namjoon, he thinks to himself. “W-what did he say?” He stumbles on his words.

“Just stuff,” you respond hesitantly, “He may or may not have said that you called me hot.” Jungkook freezes beside of you.

“Fucking hell, I’m gonna kill hyung,” he mutters underneath his breath, “Look I’m sorry okay—I was really drunk and I saw you at one of our parties in this short ass dress and fuck, yeah I said you were hot—I’m sorry okay? I know that’s so fucking weird jeez, I’m sorry—“

“Jungkook it’s fine,” you laugh interrupting his rambling. “It’s not weird, I just wanted to know whether or not Namjoon was feeding me shit.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” He asks and you can sense that he is very embarrassed. “I told you, I’m not good with my alcohol.”

You shake your head, “I mean, you’re pretty hot too if I say so myself,” the words tumble from your mouth and you actually want to crawl in a hole and die. Did you just say that?! Jungkook looks at you as you turn your face away from him. Fuck, he thinks to himself. He glances down your body and notices the cleavage coming through your dress and the way you hair is pulled to one side. Fuck, he thinks again, yeah, stupid little crush three years ago my ass.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice his quiet, serious.

“Of course,” you look up at him with a concern face.

“You can’t tell anyone—not even Jennie,” he says, his voice low. You give him a confused look, but nod anyways.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him. He bits at his lip, feeling uneasy.

He takes in a deep breath before exhaling, “When I changed my major a few months back, my parents threatened to cut me off—“

“Whoa, what?”

“And they’re still threatening to if I don’t get my shit straight.”

“Jungkook, I don’t get what you’re saying? Have you done something?” You ask him, feeling already too uneasy about where this conversation is going.

“No, I haven’t done anything—that’s the problem. I haven’t proved to them that I’m worthy for them to keep paying for my school. I haven’t proved to them that I can get a job somewhere. My grades aren’t proving anything to them.”

“What are you gonna do if they cut you off? You can’t pay for this shit-hole by yourself—they know that.” You notice the way his jaw is grinding and his breathing is shaking.

“Please don’t get mad at me,” he mumbles quietly. Oh god. “Recently I started taking up, um… boxing,” he says, unsure of his words.

“…Okay?” You say slowly.

“I’ve been fighting, like underground fighting,” you almost don’t hear him, but then you do, and you want to laugh in his face—but he’s being serious.

“Fighting? Jungkook what the fuck?!” You push yourself away from the comfort of his side, “Are you crazy?!”

“I’m getting paid for the fights—if I win at least,” he tries to sound reasonable but to you, you want to scream at him in anger.

“Jungkook, are you fucking kidding me? You’re fighting? Instead of finding a real job?”

“Y/N you don’t understand—I make thousands of dollars for one fight—it’s my best chance right now.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you shake your head, pulling your hands through your hair in frustration, you cannot believe this man right now.

“What are you going to do about school then? Huh?” You press him.

“I-I was hoping you would help me, at least try to tutor me,” he says hesitantly and your stomach drops. You don’t say anything for a moment, unsure if you want to scream or cry at him.

“So this is the reason why you wanted to rekindle our friendship, so I could be your fucking tutor?”

“What no—“

“Are you fucking kidding me Jungkook? I cannot believe you right now,” your voice is getting louder by the minute. You start to walk away from him back to your apartment by yourself, unable to even look at him right now.

“Wait—no, please Y/N,” Jungkook runs to you, grabbing your hand and pulls you back to him, “I know this is all bad timing but I really did miss having you as a friend and you’re the only person, I could tell this to, at least for now,” he quickly explains.

“What, so you want me to help you through school while you get the shit knocked out of you for money?” You ask him, “Jungkook I don’t want to see you go through that, you have to find another option,” your eyes are pleading with him. His grip moves from your hand to your waist which causes your heart to race irregularly.

“Y/N, please I know it’s not the best but it really is my best option. I need someone there for me and I need that person to be you,” his face is too close for comfort and you back away from him a few inches.

“Jungkook, I don’t know,” you shake your head.

“Please, Y/N, I’m begging you,” he says again.

“Have you told anyone?” You ask him.

“Aside from you, only Taehyung knows—and Yoongi, he was the one to introduce me to it.” Yoongi—a name you’re not familiar with.

“Fucking hell Jungkook,” you lean your head back, trying to contain your emotions.

“Please you can’t tell anyone Y/N, I can get in serious trouble by obtaining money this way.”

“Yeah because it’s fucking illegal,” you spit at him. You find his hand to grip a little too tightly and you want to scream at Jungkook. How could he be so stupid? And how were you going to let him be so stupid?

“I’ll help you with school Jungkook, but the fighting… I don’t know,” you tell him, “You know I’m not going to be okay with that.”

“If you makes you feel any better, I haven’t lost. The most I’ve walked away with is a few scraps and bruises on my arms,” he tries to lighten up your mood but it doesn’t work. “I promise I won’t get hurt, I know what I’m doing,” he nudges you trying to loosen you up some. He hands end up grabbing yours, intertwining them tightly.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep Jungkook,” you tell him and his face falls again. Both of you look at your intertwined hands. “At least promise me you’ll be careful,” you plead him.

“Of course. I promise,” he says giving your hand a squeeze. Without warning, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. Your hands snake up against his neck and pull him close to you as well.

His scent is all too familiar and it scares you that you’ve missed out on him growing into the handsome adult he is now. And now, you have to fear for his wellbeing. Fuck. Jungkook pulls away from you and your faces meet a little too close for comfort. His nose brushes against yours, his eyes burning holes into you.

“I’d trust you with my life Y/N,” he speaks again, “And I’m trusting you with this.”

Your breath hitches as his nose brushes yours again. Fuck, you think to yourself. You bite your lip, knowing that you wold absolutely die for this boy and it takes all of you to grip his shirt and push him away from you. You feel less suffocated once your space is empty and Jungkook’s hand stays in yours as he walks you home. It’s a good thing, you think, that you’ve had a stupid little crush on him too or you would most definitely not do this shit for him.

_____

“So,” Jennie says slowly, “How was it?”

You hadn’t even walked into your apartment five feet before Jennie is rushing questions onto you.

“Um,” you pause, taking the time to take off your shoes, “It went... well,” you say, unsure of your words. Did it go well? You weren’t sure considering the two of you were in an argument nearly the whole way home.

“Well?” Jennie asks, curiosity dripping in her tone, “I need more details than that. What’d you do? What did you guys talk about?”

“Um, we just kind of caught up on things,” you knew you had to tread your words lightly. “It felt pretty normal.” You add at the last second, giving her a weak smile. She narrows her eyes at you.

“That’s it?” She somewhat frowned.

“What did you want me to say?” You give her a laugh as you begin to walk back towards your room and undress into your sleepwear. She follows your footsteps closely.

“I don’t know! I was just expecting more, more from you! You seem awfully quiet,” she says plopping down on your bed that she is oh-so accustomed to.

You look through your drawers and pull out a big t-shirt and slip it over your head. You turn to Jennie and give her another pathetic attempt of a smile.

“It’s just weird okay,” you tell her, climbing onto your bed with her, “This was the first time we’ve actually hung out by ourselves in years and I don’t know, it was good, like we picked up where we left off you know?” You knew that was a complete lie but you needed to get Jennie off your case or you were afraid you would let your worries slip.

She lets out a sigh, “I guess so. I do think about high school sometimes and we really had it good… the four of us,” she smiles fondly thinking back to simpler times.

“Yeah… we did,” you agree staring up at your ceiling.

“How’s Taehyung by the way? Did Jungkook mention him?”

You give a glance at Jennie and she’s looking at her overgrown nails. “He’s good, Jungkook said he had a girlfriend which surprised me.”

“Hm,” Jennie shrugged, “Interesting.”

You furrowed your eyebrows while looking at her. “Interesting?” You found her answer odd but she brushes it off.

“Yeah, well I have homework to do that isn’t gonna do itself unfortunately,” she stands up from your bed, “See you in the morning, goodnight.” She throws you a quick wink before she leaves, shutting your bedroom door behind of her.

You let out a sigh of relief when she leaves. As happy as you were that you and Jungkook reconnected some tonight, the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach was keeping you from focusing on the good. You couldn’t believe what Jungkook had gotten himself into. Boxing? For money? You knew Jungkook never had much common sense but this takes it to another level. You now knew one of his deepest secrets and not only could that seriously backfire on you if something went wrong. He said he trusted you with his fucking life for Christ’s sake. Who says that to someone they’ve barely spoken to in two years? Someone who is desperate, you think.

You grab a book from your nightstand for one of your classes and flip to your last read page, trying to rid your mind of Jungkook getting the shit beat out of him. And as much as you read your book and your eyelids fall sleepy, you manage to barely sleep that night, as images of your old friend are burned into your brain.

_____

It wasn’t long after your first meetup with Jungkook that he started asking for tutoring help. Jungkook knew your schedule was busy and he didn’t want to pressure you into anything, but the more you were around Jungkook, the more desperate you were to help him. You have known him for so long and despite all your differences, he truly was and will always be one of your best friends. And best friends helped each other. Right?

“Hey—sorry I’m late,” you meet Jungkook in the back of the fourth floor of the library after your last class of the day. “I had a question about my lecture—“

“Y/N it’s fine,” Jungkook says softly, not looking up from his paper, “Don’t worry about it.”

You set down beside of him and begin to take your belongings out of your backpack and you notice Jungkook has already begun some work himself.

“How was classes today?” You ask him opening up your laptop. You give him a glance and he’s focused on the problem in front of him.

“It was alright, I slept through my first one at ten—“

“What’s that?” You ask as you let your eyes focus a little too close on his face. A cut lined across his jaw and up towards his left ear and you felt yourself begin to panic. “Jungkook what—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he’s being cold and distant and you don’t like it. You look down his arms and onto his hands and notice some cuts and bruises there too. That’s when it hits you.

“Jungkook did you have a fight recently?” You keep your voice low so no one else could hear. He visibly tenses up beside of you and he adjusts his beanie on his to try and cover his ear area.

“Yeah,” he says simply, his eyes not looking at you one time, still focusing on the paper ahead.

“Jungkook,” your tone is deep and not happy, but you suppose there isn’t much you can do in this situation. Curiosity got the best of you and you ask, “What happened?”

“Let’s not talk about that okay?” He turns to you fully and you inwardly gasp, seeing that his right eye is half blacked behind his glasses. You feel sick to your stomach and your mouth parts. Again, you don’t say anything and just give him a nod.

The rest of the tutoring session with him goes smoothly and Jungkook has significantly picked up his understanding of his classes in a short amount of time, but in the back of your mind you wanted to scream. Scream at him. How could he be doing this to himself? He first told you he was fine. He sure doesn’t look fine. It’s getting close to 7 o’clock when you tell him you have to go get ready for your shift at the diner in an hour.

“We can pick up again whenever you need to,” you tell, “And text me if you have any questions.”

“What are you doing this weekend?” Jungkook completely ignores your sentences and you turn to him, trying not to stare at the faint of blue under his eye.

“Um, I have another shift tomorrow that starts at 7,” you tell him.

“Can you get off?” He asks almost nervously as the two of you begin to leave the library.

You chuckle, “Probably not, why?”

“Well, Taehyung and I are having a small get together at our apartment and I wanted to know if you and Jennie wanted to come?”

He sounds genuine and you know it could be fun and a little different from the chaotic frat scene that you’re used to.

“Sure, I’m sure Jennie will be down,” you give him a smile to which he returns one for the first time tonight. “If I can’t get off work I’ll just come after my shift.”

“Sounds good,” he says and you are about to part ways before he grabs your arm to stop you, “Thanks again Y/N, for helping me out,” there’s a glimmer in his eyes.

“No problem, it’s what a friend would do right?” You give him your best smile although it feels weird saying that. His face drops in the slightest way.

“Yeah…” he trails off, his hand trailing down your arm before letting go, “See you soon?”

You give him a nod, “See you soon.”

_____

Your shift at the diner tonight was being particularly slow for a Tuesday and you found yourself aimlessly making lattes for yourself every thirty minutes. You were slightly jacked from the caffeine but you knew you would need it once you went home to finish off the load of your homework for the night. Bedtime as of right now was looking to be 3 AM, possibly 4. Mark is once again working with you tonight which makes it all the more bearable, but the more you stand behind the counter, sipping your coffee, the more you realize you do not want to waste tomorrow night working.

“Hey, Mark,” you say and he looks up from his book.

“What’s up?” He asks, his eyes focussing on you.

“Would you care…. to possibly… take my shifts this weekend?” You ask slowly, dancing around the topic. His eyebrows furrow and you could tell that is not what he wanted to hear from you.

“I mean… I don’t care to, but can I ask why?”

Shit. You couldn’t say it was to go to a small party. That would be an automatic no.

“Well, I’ve been tutoring someone recently and it's taken away from my own study time, so I really need all weekend to catch up on all my shit,” you say smoothly. Not a complete lie, but he didn’t need to know you would be catching up on your “shit” tonight and not this weekend.

“Yeah, sure whatever,” he waves his hand off, “Just be sure to tell our manager before you leave.”

“Right… thanks Mark.”

“That means you owe me a shift in the future,” he says pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, read your fucking book.”

_____

Friday was a blur. You went to sleep around 3:45 AM. Had to wake up at 7 AM for your 8 AM lecture, dragged your feet to your other classes, barely had time to eat anything, only consuming coffee to suppress your appetite in the afternoon, and now that you were home you couldn’t wait to lay in your bed for a few hours.

Jennie didn’t have classes on Friday’s—fuck her—so she had been chilling all day when you burst through the door exhausted.

“You look horrible,” she said as soon as you flopped down on the couch beside of her.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” you groan covering your eyes.

“Well you better get rested up before tonight,” she says.

“What’s tonight?” You mumble, nearly drifting off to sleep right then and there.

“Jungkook invited us to his apartment, that’s what you said last night,” she gave you a funny look before shaking her head.

Shit. You had forgotten about that throughout your drowsy state all day.

“Yeah, right,” you pause, looking at her through the crack of your arm, “Wake me up at 7 to get ready.” You stand up planning on taking the fattest nap of your life.

“I-I captain!” Jennie says sarcastically and it’s the last thing you hear before passing out on your bed, not even bothering to put a blanket over you.

_____

Jungkook and Taehyung’s apartment isn’t far from yours. You wouldn’t say the exterior is nicer than yours, but the abundance of buildings shows that their community is much larger than the one you and Jennie share.

“This is right?” Jennie asks as you knock on the door heavily.

“Yeah,” you say, faintly hearing music from the other side of the door.

The door swings open and to your surprise, it’s Taehyung.

“Jennie, Y/N!” He smiles widely at the two of you before ushering you in. “It’s been wayyyy too long! You guys want a drink?”

You take a second to look around their apartment, not seeing Jungkook anywhere. There’s about two dozen people here, some playing pong, others sitting around the living area. You knew Taehyung was feeling a little drunk despite it being only 9 from the way he grabs a couple cups, the entire tower of them falling over.

“How have you guys been?!” Taehyung pours some cheap tequila into your red solo cups and hands them over.

“Good, what about you?” Jennie smiles to him and Taehyung pours another shot for himself.

“Fucking great,” he says before putting his cup out. The three of you bump cups and down the tequila, a familiar burn hitting you instantly. It’s oddly reminiscent, the three of you drinking alcohol like there are no problems with the world.

“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, giving another glance around the apartment, only recognizing some of his frat brothers, but him still not to be found.

“He went to get more alcohol and some other things,” Taehyung says, pouring another shot for the two of you. “I heard the two of you finally got over your bullshit?”

You furrow your eyebrows and Jennie laughs. “W-what?” You have to laugh too, “Bullshit?”

“You know, how the two of you acted like neither of you existed? God it was so annoying hearing that little bitch talk about you constantly,” he rolls his eyes dramatically and Jennie eyes you suspiciously.

“Uh, yeah—“ you were unsure of what to say, “Heard you have a girlfriend now?” You change the subject quickly and Jennie raises her eyebrows at Taehyung.

“Really?” Jennie says almost passively. Taehyung doesn’t glance at you, only looking to Jennie.

“Yeah,” he says, “C’mon, drink your shit. The night is young and you guys need to catch up!”

“Or you need to slow down?” You offer and only giggles again. You down another shot and at this pace, you’ll be passed out by 11, Jennie by 10. You’ve always handle your alcohol better than her, but a shot every two minutes will do anyone in.

The three of you talk aimlessly, somewhat of an unresolved tension between Jennie and Taehyung that is impossible to avoid until you get some more alcohol in you. You’re about four shots of Jose Cuervo in and sipping on some type of seltzer when your phone buzzes in your hand.

[9:46 PM Namjoon] hey, wrud tonight

[9:46 PM You] at a friend’s place tonight, wbu

Your eyes are having trouble to focus as the alcohol begins to settle in your system. You remember vividly how you barely had any food today and you know you should stop drinking otherwise you might puke everywhere.

[9:48 PM Namjoon] damn, missing you. I believe you still owe me a rain check

You laugh at your phone.

[9:48 PM You] soon, I promise lol

“Jungkook! Fuck yes my brother!”

You instantly look up from your phone and see Jungkook walking through the front door, a case of beer in one hand and a brown bag in the other. He smiles as he sets down the case and bag of liquor as his brothers crowd around him to grab a can.

Do you go up to him? Yes, are you, stupid? But shouldn’t he look for you? What are you twelve?

Your internal monologue is interrupted when Taehyung pulls you over to Jungkook with a small push.

“Hey Y/N,” Jungkook smiles, grabbing a beer for himself. He’s wearing a hat to cover his forehead.

“Hi,” you smile and he gives you a small, somewhat awkward hug.

“Glad you could make it,” he says, the bruises on his face from the other day already looking a lot better.

“I was not going to spend my Friday night at the restaurant,” you laugh, trying intensely to focus on his face and not zone in and out as you tend to do drunkenly.

“Jennie here?” He asks.

“Yeah, she’s uh,” you pause, actually not knowing where she went. “Oh, she’s playing pong with Taehyung.”

“Come on then,” he reaches out his hand, “Let’s play with them.”

“Jungkook I’m terrible, you know that—“

“I never said you were good, but for old times sake?” His brown eyes bore into yours and you give in, nodding your head and settling your hand into his. His hands are warm—always have been. Slightly rough and calloused but smooth—what the fuck, stop it!

The four of you, girls verses boys, start a new game of pong and you’re sure Jennie is just as bad as you. That’s evident when Jungkook and Taehyung lob four in, one after another. You’re lucky you get one in their cups. Jennie, too drunk at this point, can’t even throw straight. The whole sight is very funny as the four of you laugh like you’re the only ones in the room.

“Come on Y/N!” Taehyung yells, “I knew you were ass but really?!”

“Me! What about her!” You defend yourself as Jennie throws a ball at Jungkook’s head.

“At least Y/N can aim!” Jungkook laughs, defending you as well, rubbing his head from the plastic impact.

The game ends with Jungkook calling island and you don’t even care at this point. Pong was and never will be your favorite. Flip cup was your speciality and even Taehyung knew that. You find yourself sitting with Jungkook on their couch, legs tucked underneath you, watching at Taehyung and Jennie take on another round of pong with Jackson—a fraternity brother—and his long time girlfriend—Mina, maybe?

“Are you even drunk right now?” You deadpan Jungkook with your eyes and he gives you a small smile.

“Nah,” he says, “You are though,” he says pointedly drinking from his beer.

“Hey—“ you point, “Only a little,” you whisper close to his ear and he laughs at you again. “You sir, need to drink.”

Jungkook shakes his head before standing up, your eyes following up his jeans to his t-shirt clad chest. Has he always looked like this? You grab onto his extended hand and he leads you away from everyone and your heart rate quickens. Where are you going? What’s he doing?

To your relief, he takes to the small outside balcony, sliding the door nearly closed as you step out. There’s two other people out here smoking cigarettes that greet you and Jungkook curiously. You have seen these boys before, but you know they don’t recognize you. They obviously think you’re some random girl Jungkook has invited but—if they only knew.

The fresh air feels nice, but you can feel a chill running down your spine and you watch Jungkook’s frame go to a dark corner of the balcony, bending down to pick something off the ground.

“What are you doing?” You ask him and he turns back to you and you send some interesting paraphernalia in his hands.

“Not in a drinking mood tonight,” he says, his eyes leaving yours before focusing on the small glass bowl in his hands. He starts to pack it and you’re watching his every move closely. You never knew Jungkook to be a stoner, but the way he packs it quickly and begins to light it, tells you otherwise. He inhales through the end of the bowl deeply, exhaling once, before quickly taking another hit.

“Goddamn,” you laugh and he starts to cough a little bit, a small laugh coming from him.

Jungkook begins to walk back to the corner before you grab his shirt to pull him back.

“You heard of sharing is caring?” You say and he shakes his head.

“No, you’re drunk, you don’t need—“

“I want too,” you say. You hadn’t smoked in awhile, but you knew you could trust Jungkook. “Come on, I’m fine.”

Jungkook hesitates a little before he holds out the bowl. You take it and hold is securely between your lips. He lights the underside and you inhale deeply. The balcony begins to smell like weed, but it doesn’t bother you, it never has. You exhale and give him a small smile. He puts the illegal substances away and stands beside of you on the balcony.

“Alright, that will be five dollars,” he says and you turn to him, your mouth agape.

“Five dollars a hit? Kiss my ass,” you say and you suddenly begin to feel the effects of the marijuana, which makes you giggle a little too long.

“How was your day?” Jungkook asks you and you nearly feel like you could fall asleep.

“Exhausting,” you mumble, “I got like four hours of sleep last night and one of my professors had the audacity to tell me that my answer was wrong on my homework when literally five other people had the same answer and got it right. And then I had coffee as my meals and had a busting headache until I took the longest nap of my fucking life—“

“Slow down,” Jungkook interjects with a laugh, “Too much information that I’m not processing right now.”

You let out an “ugh” before saying, “I’ve had better days for sure.” You leave it at that. “What about you?”

He smiles before turning to you completely, “I’ve had better days, better weeks for sure.” He almost sounds annoyed now, like something is deeply bothering him.

You let a pause presume between the two of you, unsure of what to say. You know you shouldn’t bring it up, but you can’t help it. The bruises on his face, the cuts on his hands—you needed to know what happened to him. Despite your intoxicated state, you could form sentences and think pretty clearly and you weren’t letting Jungkook out of your sight without explaining himself.

“Jungkook,” you say in a whisper, looking around to see if the other guys had left. They had. “Are you gonna tell me what happened to your face?”

He looks down, almost embarrassed. “There was a fight on Tuesday,” he stops when you furrow your eyebrows at him.

“Tuesday?!” You half whisper, “What the hell are you doing fighting on a Tuesday? Jungkook you said—“

“It wasn’t an official fight Y/N,” he interrupts you, “I was fucking jumped with one of my friends,” he says and your eyes widen. You feel your head spinning and your mouth goes dry. From the weed, alcohol, or the conversation? You’re not sure.

“What?” You ask, worry filling your tone, “Jungkook what the fuck! You said you had this under control.”

“Keep your voice down!” He scolds, “I do have it under control, although you can’t really control when you get jumped.”

“W-why? Who would want—“

“His name is Eric. I beat him at the last real fight and I guess he’s a sore fucking loser. He wants a rematch and everything, said he was injured before the fight, so he sent some pussies to jump my friend Jimin and I.”

The information being taken in wasn’t something you wanted to hear. Was this stupid underground boxing that serious? And how stupid could Jungkook be to continue to do this?

“Well you’re not gonna fight him again,” you pause. He doesn’t look at you. “Are you?”

“There’s a lot of money on the line,” he says.

“Jungkook you’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not Y/N,” he turns to you again, his body now closer than before. His knuckles gripping the railing are pale and cracked. “If I win this fight, I won’t need anymore money before the end of the year. Hell, I’ll probably even have some left over.”

“Okay? And?”

“Then I can be done with fighting,” he sounds genuine but insincere at the same time. This greatly improves your posture and you feel your heartbeat calming down.

“B-but I figured you would need more money? Your parents Jungkook?” You stumble over some of your words.

“Y/N you don’t understand the money within these things, it’s insane. Trust me, I’ll be set with money for awhile. I just have to win that fight…”

You want to protest him. Tell him he shouldn’t do it, that he should find a normal job, get away from that stuff—but you stay silent. Jungkook always will be as stubborn as you and he seems to have made up his mind about this fighting stuff awhile ago. At the end of the day, whatever happens to him, isn’t necessarily your business.

“You know I’ll never agree with this,” you shake your head, looking down at Jungkook’s hands. They’ve relaxed against the railing and time has slowed down significantly. Every blink of your eyes seem to last 5 seconds and Jungkook could say the same thing.

“I know,” Jungkook steps towards you, overlapping one of his hands with yours, “But like I said, I trust you and you should trust me,” he almost sounds desperate. “Look at me,” he whispers and you slowly turn your head up. Your noses are nearly touching and you can smell him, your vision clouding in the dark.

“Do you trust me?” He asks quietly, licking his lips and you swallow, trying to find your breath.

You nod your head slowly, “Yes.”

You don’t know who leans in first, but when your lips meet, it’s like a siren goes off. The scene feels all too familiar. His lips are soft and they feel just like you remember. He’s gentle with you, his left hand holding your waist to pull you towards him, your bodies flush together. One of your hands finds their way to his hair and you pull him down closer to you. This feels good, really good—but isn’t this wrong? You two have just rekindled your relationship and you two didn’t even last four weeks before you two are snogging—the very reason your friendship became weird in the first place all those years ago.

You try to pull away, “Jungkook—“ he closes the gap once again and it’s like a drug—touch is like heroin in your veins. Both of you are hungry—hungry for each other. You’re not sure when, but you find yourself backed into the wall of the dark-side of the balcony. The door isn’t in view so anyone inside couldn’t see what was going on right now thank god.

“Y/N,” the groan sends your body into overdrive and he begins to trail his lips down your neck and you’ve pulled him so close to you there is barely room to breathe. It’s gotta be the alcohol—or the weed—or just Jungkook—but you’ve never wanted anyone more in your life. You squeeze your thighs together to find some unrelieved friction and Jungkook senses what you’re doing. He stops you, forcing is own leg between your crotch and you subtly moan.

“Fuck, shh,” Jungkook scolds and it makes you laugh as you check if anyone is coming to the door.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he closes the gap between you again, covering your mouth gently and you genuinely feel butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook’s hand trails from your waist down to the front of you jeans and you pull away suddenly, “Jungkook w-what are you doing?!”

“Do you want me to do this?” He sounds mischievous as he pops open the button to your pants and you can safely say you never thought you would be in this situation with Jeon Jungkook of all people, but you are not about to stop him.

You kiss him this time, pulling on his hair, eliciting another delicious groan from him. His hand makes it way to your center and you shiver in the cold, his hands warm against your underwear. He rubs you through the material, once, twice, three times before he moves aside the fabric—the wetness covering his fingers instantly. You look towards the door again nervous that someone might walk out here and see the two of you compromised—you would die. Especially if it was Taehyung or Jennie.

“Quiet, alright?” Jungkook whispers and you nod biting your lip as he enters a finger into you. You close your eyes, mouth falling open. Your breathing picks up as he enters a second digit. His fingers are long and calloused as you noticed before but it feels so good. He brings one of your legs around his waist so he can get deeper into your center and a small, squeaky moan escapes from your mouth. Jungkook shuts you up by kissing you again and he begins to move his fingers in and out, curling them in all the right places, sending you into a silent mess.

You and Jungkook shouldn’t be doing this—not here, not right now, not ever. But you’re not doing anything to stop it. Neither is he. Is this suppose to be happening then? No—definitely yes. Wait, what? Your brain is so foggy you can’t even think straight.

Jungkook has added a third finger and it’s becoming harder and harder to stay quiet. Jungkook’s face in the crook of your neck, your neck in his—it’s all a little too intimate but it’s hot and heavy and it feels so good. Jungkook begins to use his thumb to find your clit, which he does with no problem—rubbing there and still moving in and out of you. Goddamn, he knows what he is doing.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna—“

“Shh,” he says, “Bite me, anywhere,” he says and you do as he says, your teeth clamping down onto his shoulder as you feel yourself falling off the edge. Your orgasm comes in a huge wave and it’s one of the best you’ve had in a long time—your body is shaking and you whimper into his shoulder, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Jungkook lets you finish before he pulls his hand out of your pants, letting your leg drop. You two stare at each other for a couple seconds, unsure of what to do now. You knew that Jungkook was hard in his pants but you weren’t sure if he wanted you to do anything about it. Should you ask? No that’s fucking weird. Well it’s fucking weird you just let your best friend of a billion years to give you one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Um,” he speaks first, “We should go back inside,” he says.

You nod, “Yeah, we should.”

You follow closely behind him as he slides the door open and you step back into the much warmer apartment.

“Y/N! Jungkook! What were you guys doing?!” Jennie pops out of nowhere until she steps back, “Fuck never mind, I can smell it,” she laughs, her eyes looking between the two of you. “What’s wrong with you two? Are you fighting again? Jesus fucking—“

“No, we’re fine, just high,” Jungkook gives her a reassuring smile and she nods absentmindedly. She is very drunk and then two of you might have to go home sooner than later.

“I need to call an Uber,” you say grabbing your phone from your pocket.

“I can drive you guys if you want,” Jungkook offers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Absolutely not, you’re high.” You say pulling up the app on your phone.

“I’ve driven high before it’s not—“

“Jungkook, no,” you somewhat snap at him. This kid really knows how to grind your gears. “Thanks for inviting us, I just don’t want Jennie to do something she regrets tomorrow morning.” You try your best to lighten to mood but it’s not helping. As much progress as you and Jungkook had made the past few weeks, that all feels gone now. There’s heaviness with you and him and you hate it.

“Just let me know when you make it home?” Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read. He looks worried, anxious, high obviously, and other potential obscurities.

“I will, I promise,” you give him a smile and he returns one weakly. You look over your shoulder to find Jennie practically draping herself all over Taehyung. Fuck. “Jennie! Come on! We’re leaving,” you stomp over to the two of them and Taehyung doesn’t seemed bothered by Jennie throwing herself at him at all. If anything, they both seem to like it. “Jennie, quit, he has a girlfriend. Taehyung, you have a girlfriend,” you narrow at the both of them.

Taehyung laughs very drunkenly, “You’re right, come on Jen,” Taehyung pushes her away slightly and she stumbles over her feet.

“Our Uber is almost here,” you tell her and she nods.

“Sounds good,” she gives you a thumbs up.

“Help me walk her Tae?” You ask and he nods.

As you and Taehyung have Jennie up around your shoulders, you look around the apartment to find Jungkook to tell him bye, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

_____

It had been exactly one week since you’ve seen Jungkook. Since he was fist deep into your vagina, pleasuring you with at least 20 people in the room next to you. It has also been the last time you spoke to him. He didn’t reach out for any tutoring this week which was odd—as the two of you set a schedule for it a few weeks back. You were worried. You knew you should reach out to him and talk about what happened—but something was holding you back. You didn’t want to talk over the phone. It had to be done in person and it just had to be done. You didn’t want to lose Jungkook a second time to another drunken mistake.

Mistake? Since when was it a mistake? Was it a mistake?

You had no idea.

It’s why you’ve found yourself at Jungkook’s apartment a week later, waiting for someone to open the door. You wait patiently and no one answers the door. You’re about to give up when a voice startles you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Taehyung appears to your left and you jump.

“Shit Taehyung,” you hold a hand over your chest, “I’m sorry, I-I was just wondering if Jungkook was home?”

Taehyung adjusts his backpack. He must be getting back from class. “He’s probably at the gym.”

You nod slowly, “Alright, thank you.”

“No problem,” he says and you’re about to walk away and he stops you again, “Everything okay?”

You open your mouth and close it again, “Not sure,” you tell him honestly. He nods without another word, seeming to understand where you’re coming from.

If your assumptions were right, Jungkook would be at a gym about ten minutes from campus, one he frequented as a freshman all that time ago. You wanted everything to be okay, but now, you were sure you have done fucked it up once again.

The gym isn’t crowded and you don’t recognize any cars to be Jungkook’s so your mood begins to dampen as you walk towards the front door. The bell rings and you probably look like an idiot walking in with jeans and sandals, but your eyes ignore the stares as you try to find Jungkook. You walk through the gym towards the back, your neck craning each direction to find him. It smells of sweat and grit, something you haven’t done too much of lately. You’re about to give up until you reach the back, where a cracked door leads into another section of the gym. You open the crack slowly and the sounds of grunting and hard hits fill the room. You stop in your place as your eyes land on Jungkook, downing boxing gloves, a pair of shorts, and nothing else. You gulp.

He’s hitting a heavy bag hard and fast, his movements halting only for a split second before he strikes again. He’s dripping in sweat and you gulp again. Should you interrupt? He’s definitely not expecting you therefore you probably shouldn’t barge in but you’re already here, so what are you supposed to do?

“Come on Jungkook,” another man’s voice comes into play. You’ve never seen this guy with mint colored hair. “Throw a southpaw, let’s go!”

Jungkook’s stance quickly changes and he’s throwing his right arm and then uppercutting his left arm with all of his weight.

“Nice Jungkook,” the voice says again. Jungkook steps back with a smile on his face, looking behind him.

“Hey,” a different voice yells over and you stop to see who it is. A guy slightly shorter than Jungkook appears in the crack of the door, a wide smile across his face.

“Good news, fight is set,” the guy smiles, although his smile reads less than enthusiastic. You notice some bruising along this guys arms, a large scrap on the side of his face. This has to be Jimin, the other guy that was jumped with Jungkook.

“When is it?” Jungkook breathes heavily, his hair sticking to his forehead as he tries to push it back through his gloves.

“October thirteenth,” Jimin says, “A Friday.”

Jungkook laughs, “A fucking Friday the thirteenth? How cheesy could they get?”

You swallow harshly. October 13th was a less than three weeks away. You’re sure they are talking about the fight with the guy named Eric that Jungkook mentioned.

“I know right,” the nameless guy says, “But I’m sure you’ll kick his ass once again, waste of your time.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice Jimin,” Jungkook sounds annoyed and you’re starting to wonder if you should have came here at all.

“Come on, let’s do some more sets,” the other guy says says, patting Jungkook on the shoulder.

You take in a deep breath, hoping that this doesn’t backfire. You take your chance and open the door to the room as if you just showed up. Jungkook, Jimin, and the third guy turns to you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking confused, “What are you doing here?”

You glance around the room awkwardly, “Uh, I-uh, went to your apartment to see you if you were a-and Taehyung said you were here, so,” you sound like a babbling idiot.

Jungkook’s eyes soften and it’s hard to not stare below his neck, but somehow you manage.

“Jimin, Yoongi this is Y/N,” Jungkook formally introduces you, “She’s a friend.” A friend. That hurt more than it should have.

“Hi,” Jimin gives you a sweet smile and he seems like a person Jungkook would automatically gravitate towards. Yoongi stays quiet. He’s definitely not someone you would strike as Jungkook’s friend.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting—I didn’t know…” you trail off, feeling more than awkward in this situation.

“No worries,” Jimin shakes his head, “We were almost done anyways.”

Jungkook’s eyes haven’t met yours since you’ve walked in. He’s staring at Jimin and knowing Jungkook, he’s going to try and leave as soon as he can.

“Wanna meet again tomorrow?” Jimin asks towards Jungkook as he packs up his bag on the floor.

“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook mutters, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “I’m gonna stay here for a little longer though.”

“Alright,” Jimin says, “It was nice to meet you Y/N.”

You smile to him, “You too.”

Jimin and Yoongi leave the room and the silence is suffocating. You cross your arms around your chest feeling vulnerable and insecure. You look at Jungkook and he’s staring at you now. He looks away from you before turning back to the bag, lining up to strike it again.

“Jungkook,” your voice interrupts his chance to punch. He pauses with one more glance to your frame. You begin to walk closer to him wanting to get this over and done with. “What’s wrong with you?” You ask.

Jungkook looks down, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters and you nearly jump out of your body when he begins to strike the bag in quick, calculated motions. The bag moves backwards with each punch and his face tenses up, his mind clearly on one thing and one thing only. You exhale deeply, trying to stay calm. If that’s the way he’s going to play—you won’t keep your cool for long.

“Jungkook, stop,” you raise your voice over his movements and he suddenly quits, looking up at you again. “Don’t do this right now,” you say stepping closer to him again.

“What do you want Y/N, I’m busy alright,” he scoffs, stepping away from the bag, turning fully to you. You wish he didn’t look good drenched in sweat but it was hard to stay focused when he was looking like that.

“You know exactly what I want. You haven’t spoken to me in a fucking week Jungkook,” your words are fiery despite your cool demeanor.

“Is that really that big of an issue? We barely spoke for two years until recently,” he sounds annoyed, but also timid—you can sense something is bothering him.

You frown, “Yeah until recently because I thought we moved past that.”

He doesn’t say anything. And that’s what boils your blood. Tears are threatening to spill from your eyes—not from sadness, but frustration.

“So is that it? I let you finger fuck me and now I don’t mean anything to you anymore?” Your words are seething and once you say this, Jungkook’s face softens that slightest bit.

“What? No Y/N—“

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you? What have I done?!” It takes all of you not to breakdown right there. You just got Jungkook back. You couldn’t lose him a second time.

“Y/N listen,” Jungkook takes off his boxing gloves, throwing them in the floor, “You haven’t done anything alright. It’s just—complicated,” he shakes his head, stepping closer to you. He tries to grab one of your hands but you pull away from him.

“No, no you don’t get to do that,” you say, “What happened to communicating Jungkook? Wasn’t that our issue all that time ago?”

He looks down and back up. You really wish he would put a shirt on. “I know, I know…” he wanders off, “If I could tell you I would, but I’m just under a lot of stress right now and—“

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” you don’t want to interrupt him, but you feel like you two are going in an endless circle. Jungkook steps towards you once again and this time you don’t back away from him.

“Look, I’m sorry alright. I shouldn’t have cut you off this past week—I just thought it would clear my head,” he says. With hesitation, he grabs your wrists gently, “That was stupid I get that okay? I’m sorry, especially after… what happened,” he says and you can tell he means it. Jungkook is a genuine person, you can’t argue that.

Your face warms up and you feel almost embarrassed. Were you overreacting?

“I just don’t understand,” you mutter, “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions but Jungkook, you’re worrying me. I don’t know what’s going on with us and this whole boxing thing is keeping me awake at night.”

He intertwines your fingers together and it’s comforting. Comfort you’ve been missing ever since a week ago. “Y/N, please just trust me okay? If I can get through these next few weeks I’m set and I promise you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“How can you promise that?” You look up fully at him and you’re a lot closer than moments ago.

“I don’t to make promises I can’t keep.”

You sure hoped he was right.

_____

Two weeks have gone by since your talk with Jungkook in the gym. He had resumed talking to you normally, although there was still something off about him. Then again, there was something off with you too. The intimate situation the two of you found yourself in a few weeks back, still hadn’t been fully discussed and it bothered you like no other. It bothered you because you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it to happen again—or even further. Fuck, you shouldn’t be thinking about Jungkook like this. But don’t you have a right to? Jesus you were so confused. It’s why you have found yourself at Beta Tau Sigma once again on a Saturday night, Jennie already lost in tow somewhere, and you’re standing with Namjoon. Even though your mind was clouded with Jungkook, Namjoon was good company at keeping you distracted.

“What’s up with you lately?” Namjoon asks handing you another drink. You furrow your brows before taking a sip. Your face scrunches up at the taste—not the best.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

Namjoon gives you a straight smile, “Don’t play stupid,” he says. You don’t even try to make up a lie. Namjoon is too smart for that.

“I don’t know, Joon,” you sigh, “I’ve just been going through a lot lately I guess,” you mutter over the loud music.

“I get it,” he says, “Wanna talk about it?”

You’re about to answer him when you suddenly spot a familiar head of dark brown hair across the room. It’s Jungkook and he’s with a girl—you recognize her from somewhere. She’s standing in front of him and he’s smirking down at her and says something that makes her laugh. Then you know where you’ve seen her before—the bathroom girl. Fuck her, you don’t even realize you roll your eyes.

Namjoon laughs, “Whoa, what was that for?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“W-what?” You look back to him and he follows where your eyes had been.

“Looking at Jungkook, eh?” He smirks, “Something going on between you two?”

You shake your head immediately, “No. Absolutely not.”

You didn’t know if that was a lie or not. Sure, Jungkook and you may have swapped some bodily fluids recently, but nothing else. You were also keeping a secret of his, one that if Namjoon found out about—would have him kicked out of the frat faster than he could blink. You glance back over to Jungkook one more time and find his eyes scanning the room. They land on you within 5 seconds and he shifts uncomfortably in front of bathroom girl.

“You sure?” Namjoon finds this situation funny. You don’t.

“Shut up,” you push on his chest slightly and he grabs your hand, pulling you towards him.

“Oh I can make you shut up,” he mumbles and you laugh as he closes the distance between the two of you. Namjoon’s lips are always soft and plump but that doesn’t mean he is always the most gentle. Namjoon is rough and sometimes—it’s just what you need. Jungkook’s lips on—

You pull away quickly from him. What the fuck?

“You okay?” He asks with concern.

You nod your head, “Yeah, I, just uh need some air,” you say. It was true—your head was now spinning and the alcohol wasn’t helping. You couldn’t believe you thought of Jungkook when kissing Namjoon.

“Alright, I’ll be by the bar.”

You leave Namjoon’s side and push your way through the hoards of people and loud music. You spot a door towards the back of the kitchen and use that as your opportunity. The air is cool but crisp. Just what you needed. There’s quite a few people outside surrounding a large bonfire keeping warm. You relax against the porch railings, staring aimlessly at the ground beneath you. You pour your drink out, knowing you don’t need to drink anymore of it. You nearly shit yourself when a voice comes up directly behind you.

“Y/N.”

You whip around, clutching your chest. “Jesus Christ Jungkook,” you say. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, a large flannel and sweatshirt covering his torso. He approaches you hastily and you don’t take your eyes off of his.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he says, obviously trying to make small talk.

“I didn’t either until Namjoon asked me this evening,” you say and you instantly regret bringing up his name. Jungkook stiffens.

“Still good friends with him I see,” he bites his lip nervously, looking over to the bonfire. You squint your eyes at him. He sounds off and annoyed.

“I see you’re still friends with bathroom girl,” you shoot back. You’re not even drunk, barely tipsy, but the thought of Jungkook being annoyed at you and Namjoon nearly sends you. At least you know Namjoon well—the only Jungkook knows about that girl is her fucking mouth.

“Gotta an issue with that?” He runs his tongue against his mouth and he looks at your from the side.

You turn to him and this feels all too familiar. “Yeah, actually I do.”

“Well, I have an issue kissing Namjoon in front of me—are we even?” He cocks his head to the side and you’ve never felt more annoyed yet turned on at the same time.

“Whatever,” you brush him off running a hand through your hair, turning back to your front staring at the fire. “Last time I checked I don’t take orders from you.”

“I know,” he says and you feel him push his body against your side. Your breathing instantly picks up and you bite the inside of your cheek to steady yourself. One of Jungkook’s hands finds its way to your shoulder, trailing it down to your elbow, then pushing it through the crack of your arm to settle on your waist.

“Jungkook,” you say quietly, not wanting to bring any attention to the two of you. Jungkook’s head leans down, his temple brushing against yours. His hand rubs gentle circles on your waist and you inhale his scent deeply. Fuck. “Jungkook… are you drunk?”

He shakes his head, “No, are you?” You believe him. He doesn’t smell like alcohol nor does he seem tipsy.

“No,” you say. Jungkook pulls you impossibly closer to him and your throat feels like its closing up.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks and you turn your head up, your noses brushing together. What? When has he ever been this upfront? You hesitate to answer but soon nod slowly—just once—you needed to feel it again—just once again. He closes the gap between you and you nearly melt into him. One of your hands grabs his face gently, pulling him down to you. Your own hands find their way to his fluffy hair, entangling into the locks. He presses himself into you and you feel your heart beating out of your chest. You let out a small whine when he pulls on your lip with his teeth and it shakes you back to reality.

You pull away from him—your entire body on fire. He’s got you trapped against the railing and you don’t trust the old wood to support your weight much longer.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and you feel something hard pressing into your front and your throat goes dry.

“Come home with me,” he says, “Please.” Desperation. That’s what laces his tone and you’re sure your heart left from your chest. But—you know this isn’t a good idea. Blame it on being sober, but you’re not sure you should go there with Jungkook. Not right now at least. Your head was spinning and as much as you wanted to—you couldn’t.

“Jungkook,” your eyes focus on his chest, watching your hands grip his shirt gently. “I—We can’t, we shouldn’t,” you bite your lip nervously.

“Please Y/N,” he nuzzles his forehead into yours, his grip on your getting tighter, “I need you, please—“

“Jungkook, no,” you push him off of you carefully and he looks hurt and confused. “I’m sorry, I—I want to but—“

“But what?” Once again, he looks sad and maybe a little angry now? “II’m not Namjoon? Is that it?”

You shake your head, not able to find a good answer in your head. His hands drop from your side and so does your stomach. Without another glance at your frame, Jungkook walks away, pulling at the roots of his hair.

You get home alone that night. Fuck. You think you really may have messed up this time. No, Jungkook wasn’t Namjoon but Namjoon could never be Jungkook. The history the two of you have... god you were so confused. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt gravity pull you to someone more since recently, that someone being Jungkook. As confused as your feelings were, you cry some in your bed. You don’t sleep that night, worried that whatever wedge is driving itself between you and Jungkook again—won’t be fixable this time.

_____

Jungkook, maybe much not to your surprise, cuts you off again the next week. You haven’t spoken or seen him since the party. Since he wanted you to go home with him and you nearly did, but thankfully you used your head some. You missed seeing his face dearly and missed his smile even more. When did things get so complicated with you and him? Ever since fucking graduation in high school—nothing has been the same. It’s been years and years and it’s something you’ve never gotten over. The more you think about it, the obvious reasons begin to show. Maybe Jungkook means more to you than you thought? Maybe he wasn’t just supposed to be your best friend? What if you two had been destined for something else all this time? Or maybe you weren’t meant to be friends at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted when a familiar face walks into your shift at the diner. Taehyung is by himself, his backpack thrown lazily over one of his shoulders. He looks tired, but just like you, getting through the day. His eyes meet yours and give him a small smile.

“Sit wherever,” you tell him and he decides to sit along the bar, sitting across from where you stand.

“Good evening,” he gives you a small smile, running a hand over his face.

“Hey Tae,” you breathe out, handing him a menu. He holds up his hand, not wanting it.

“Just get me a latte, extra espresso please,” he says and you nod.

“Coming right up.”

It doesn’t even take you a minute to make lattes now. The process has become so familiar it’s become second nature. Mainly due to your own obsession with lattes and your determination to perfect them yourself. You top the mug off with some foam before sliding it over to Taehyung. He doesn’t wait for it to cool before taking a big gulp.

“Rough day?” You ask, leaning forward on your elbows.

“You don’t even know,” he grumbles, “I had a quiz in my hardest class today that I didn’t know about, therefore didn’t study for,” he pauses, “I had to pick up all the slack on a group project that’s due on Saturday and then I have had to deal with Jungkook’s dumbass all week and he was at his worst this morning,” he rolls his eyes.

The mention of Jungkook makes your heart flutter yet stomach feel nauseated, “What’s wrong with Jungkook?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you, “Don’t you know?”

“Um… he hasn’t talked to me in a week,” you look down at your hands, your mouth dry.

“Jesus fuck,” Taehyung groans, “No wonder he’s been in such a fucking mood. What did he do?”

You weren’t sure how to go about your answer. Um, yeah, so like Jungkook wanted me to go home with him to have sex and I did too and I didn’t and I don’t know why. Sounds great.

“It wasn’t him. It was me,” you pause, “He asked me to go home with him.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen slightly, a small smirk on his face, “Did you?”

You shake your head, “No, I couldn’t bring myself to. I wanted to but…” you trail off, slightly embarrassed to be telling Taehyung this.

“Goddammit,” he nearly laughs, “No wonder he’s pissy. Between you and tomorrow, kid’s got his work cut out.” You pick up Taehyung joking around but you still furrow your eyebrows.

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask.

“The 13th. Did he not tell you?” Fuck. His fight. Without talking to Jungkook everyday, you had forgotten about the fight.

“He mentioned it.”

“Are you going?” The question catches you off guard.

“What, oh no,” you shake your head, “No, he didn’t ask and I don’t think that’s something I wanna see anyways.”

“Trust me, he wants you there,” he says, “He’s just being a dick.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” you snap. “Every time something happens between us… he shuts me off. I don’t fucking get it.”

“Y/N he does this to everyone when he’s stressed,” Taehyung pauses, “Especially since, you know,” he shrugs. The fights.

You nod, “I get it,” you slump, “It’s still frustrating.”

“You don’t have to tell me that—at least you don’t live with him,” he gives you a laugh and you send a smile in return.

“How do you feel about it?” You ask him genuinely, “The boxing I mean…”

Taehyung squints his eyes briefly, “I think it’s stupid personally,” this answer warms your heart until he continues, “But if I was as good as Jungkook I would probably do it too. The money in these things are insane.”

You raise your eyebrows, “So I’ve heard.”

Taehyung nods before he gets a text on his phone. He reads it before smiling.

“Your girlfriend?” You probe curiously.

He clears his throat, “Uh, yeah,” he responds quickly before turning his phone over. “So, what exactly is going on between you two?”

“Uh, what do you mean?” You laugh sarcastically.

Taehyung deadpans his face, “You know what I mean. I know you guys have this weird chemistry, it’s obvious. Plus he hasn’t shut up about you since you started tutoring him. Y/N this, Y/N that… it’s disgusting.”

Did Jungkook really talk about you?

“Ask him, not me because I don’t even fucking know. I could tell you what Kim Namjoon and I are before I could define mine and Jungkook’s relationship.” You let out a laugh and other eye roll.

“I’m assuming you and hyung are… what do they say? Friends with…?”

“Yeah yeah whatever you wanna call it,” you swat your hand slightly embarrassed.

“Jungkook hates it you know,” he says, switching tones. “You and Namjoon.”

You slightly snort, “And why is that?” You could tell Jungkook didn’t like seeing you with Namjoon, even before last weekend after he voiced it.

“Because he knows Namjoon is the type of guy you’ve always wanted, not him.” This takes you completely off guard.

“Why would Jungkook care about that?” You furrow.

Taehyung shrugs, staying silent this time. You weren’t stupid—you knew what Taehyung was implying by saying what he said. It makes your stomach drop. Maybe Jungkook felt more for you than he supposed to as well?

“So are you gonna come tomorrow?” He asks.

“No Taehyung,” you say, “I don’t want to see Jungkook get the shit beat out of him.”

“Jungkook won’t get the shit beat out of him, I can promise you that.”

You eyes glance over to the door as a small group of people walk into the diner. You don’t say anything else to Taehyung as you walk over to greet them. You seat them and make your way back to Taehyung, but you can’t chat much longer as you now have a table to tend to.

“Listen Y/N,” Taehyung stops you before you can walk back over with menus for the group, “If you wanna come, just text me. Like I said Jungkook wants you there, whether he’s said so or not. Also, another latte please, you’re slacking woman.”

You swat him with the menus before walking away from him. Goddamn, these next 24 hours were going to be hell.

_____

You couldn’t remember the last time you were ever this nervous for someone aside from yourself in a very long time. You remember how nervous you were in high school when you got injured and Jennie had to double with a girl on the bench of the tennis team. You remember being nervous for your parents when you left for college. And now, you don’t ever recall a moment in your life where you have been this nervous for Jeon Jungkook of all people.

It was Friday at 3:43 PM and you day was slow but painless, and you had no official plans set for the evening. Taehyung had texted you, wondering if you wanted to hitch a ride along with him to the match. You had yet to answer him. His text mocking you from your screen and you wanted to pretend that you knew nothing of the boxing match but that was impossible.

[You 3:59 PM] What time should I be ready

You send the message before you could regret it and delete it. Jennie has yet to be home from going to the store and you would need a good, yet believable excuse for your absence tonight.

[Taehyung 4:00 PM] i’ll pick you up around 8

[You 4:00 PM] Sounds good. Have you spoken to Jungkook today?

[Taehyung 4:02 PM] no he’s been quiet all day. have you?

[You 4:02 PM] Nope

You don’t receive another text from him and you slump down on your couch. It had been nearing two full weeks since Jungkook had spoken to you. You felt like all of this was your fault, sending him mixed signals and unsure of your own feelings for him. From the secretive finger fuck to the gentle kiss you shared last week, Jungkook was on your mind 24/7—aside from taking exams of course—but he was all you could think about lately. Growing up, you obviously loved Jungkook and was practically glued to his hip, but even then you don’t recall thinking about him every single fucking second.

You pull at the roots of your hair and let out a frustrated groan. Maybe you should reach out? After all, without your initiation of friendship all those years ago, you wouldn’t be here now.

You pick up your phone and find Jungkook’s contact and before you can stop yourself, you tap the call button. Your hands are clammy and you know he probably won’t answer, but it’s worth a try. The line rings for about thirty seconds before it goes dead. That dumbass doesn’t even have voicemail set up.

Pissed off even more, you slam your phone against the coffee table and let out an exasperated ‘fuck’ before going to your room to take a nap. Fuck Jeon Jungkook, is the last thought you have before you drift off into sleep.

_____

Taehyung picked you up at 8:02, though you told Jennie it was Namjoon who picked you up and the two of you were having a night in. You think she believed it but left her before she could ask anymore questions.

“I just don’t fucking get it Taehyung, one second he’s fine and another he’s like a child throwing a fit,” you filled Taehyung in on how you tried to call him but to no avail.

“You don’t have to tell me how he is Y/N, I fucking live with the guy,” he groans from his drivers seat. “I just think he’s going through a lot right now… with school, his parents, the boxing, you… he’s never handle stress that well you know that.”

You let out a sigh, leaning against the window, “It’s just so frustrating trying to help him only to get cut off like this…”

Taehyung looks at you with an eyeful glance though you don’t notice. “Y/N, in his eyes you’ve cut him off too, you do realize that right?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What? No I haven’t?”

“Come on the little brat can’t keep his mouth shut. I know what happened with you two a couple weeks ago,” he says. You don’t say anything, cheeks getting warm. “And the weeks before that on our fucking balcony—“

“Okay what then Tae!” You interrupt him, too embarrassed by the memory.

“Jungkook is trying Y/N,” he says with a hint of a smirk, “He thinks you’re rejecting him,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly.

“Rejecting? C’mon Taehyung you know that I—“

“I know that you and Jungkook like each other, even though neither one of you have said anything, Jennie says it too.”

You narrow your eyebrows at your friend. “I don’t know what I think about Jungkook okay?” You’re being honest. You know you like Jungkook… but you’re scared of what that entails for the future. You want Jungkook in your future, you just don’t know what the right path is.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else as he pulls his car into a fairly full parking garage. It’s dimly lit and slightly freaks you out. Taehyung had to drive to the other side of the city to get here and you don’t recognize the neighborhood around.

“Stay close to me, alright?” Taehyung opened your door for you and you nod without any argument. You follow Taehyung out of the parking garage into the chilly air and you huddle by his side. The two of you walk down a couple streets before he turns down a dark, dimly lit alleyway.

“Taehyung what the fuck,” you whisper and come to a halt. His brown eyes bleed into yours despite the darkness and he takes your hand into his.

“It’s okay,” he says reassuringly, “I promise.”

You nod reluctantly and the you continue to walk down the alley, coming to a stop at the end where you spot the familiar face of Min Yoongi. He’s standing down a small flight of stairs beneath you two and he greets Taehyung with a stiff smile.

“Taehyung, what’s up,” he says, his eyes immediately looking over at you, “Y/N?”

You tighten your grip around Taehyung’s hand, Yoongi’s stare quite intimidating.

“She should be on Jungkook’s list.”

You stay quiet knowing Taehyung doing the talking is the best strategy. Yoongi looks down at a clipboard—old fashioned but effective you guess—before nodding.

“You guys are good. Hurry and find a seat, there’s a lot of people down here tonight.”

“You got it,” Taehyung gives him a small smile before you drag behind him down the stairs and enter through a heavy door. You already hear plenty of commotion as you enter a huge space a few feet from the door. Your eyes look around and you could see nearly a hundred people just in your line of sight.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung says.

“What?” You get nervous by his tone.

“I’ve never seen this many people here, goddamn.”

“Why are there so many people here?” You spot a large boxing ring, dead center of the room and your mouth goes dry.

“I guess people like rematches?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you.

“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, noticing how some eyes are staring at you, making you shift uncomfortably in your boots.

“Probably in the locker rooms… wanna see him?” He asks.

You bite your lip. “Does he wanna see us?” You hope Taehyung says yes. It’s killing you inside not being able to see him, hear him.

“Guess we’ll find out, c’mon,” he smirks and you follow him closely. As you look around, you do notice people you somewhat recognize. Whether it’s from walking around on campus or some of your classes, all these faces are not too unfamiliar. Taehyung takes you away from the crowd of people, through another set of doors and down another hallway. With this much walking and standing, you would have worn something other than booties. You enter the “locker room” area and you suddenly feel queasy. What if Jungkook is mad that you’re here? What if he doesn’t want to see you after all? What if—

“Y/N?” Your thoughts are broken by a honey-like voice and you focus in on the source. Jungkook sits a few feet away from you and Taehyung, back leaning against a wall. He looks confused, but also pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing here?” He gets up and does the unexpected—he embraces you in a tight hug. You return it without a second though, holding him close to you. He pulls away from you after a few moments and gives Taehyung a small hug too.

“Hey,” you say shyly.

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks his friend and Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m alright.” Jungkook looks at you again. “I didn’t think you’d ever come to one of these,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Me either,” you say with no expression. As much as you wanted to be happy—you couldn’t. You were pissed at Jungkook for ignoring you and you were pissed that Jungkook was about to fight. You eye his frame, a white t shirt and navy sweatpants hang low on his hips. He looks calm, too calm for your liking.

“Will you give us a minute?” Jungkook suddenly turns to Taehyung and he nods glancing at you.

“I’ll get some seats.”

Taehyung leaves you and Jungkook alone and you nearly feel like crying. What the fuck is this mess?

“Y/N listen to me,” Jungkook says stepping towards you, “I’m so sorry about thess past two weeks. I-I’ve been a dick for no fucking reason and it’s not fair to you.”

You don’t say anything as you stand there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Fuck I know I’m idiot and there’s no excuse… I’ve just been so stressed lately and you’re the best fucking part of my day—“

“Well why don’t you fucking act like it Jungkook? I’m sick of something happening between us and you acting like a I don’t exist for god knows what reason,” you raise your voice slightly.

“Y/N I,” he pauses, his hands finding their way to your shoulders, “I haven’t been honest with you and,” he pauses again and you feel your heart speed up. What’s he talking about? “I just wanna say—“

“Jungkook, you got five minutes,” the two of you turn to Park Jimin who seemed to come in at the wrong time.

“Fuck,” he says, “We’ll talk after okay?”

You nod hesitantly and before you can push yourself away from him, Jungkook places a kiss on your forehead and it makes your insides melt. Fuck, you meet his brown eyes, biting your lip nervously.

A revelation springs into your mind; you think you might love him. He pulls you in for another hug, though this is one much shorter as Jimin is ushering you out of the locker room in the blink of an eye.

As much as you wanted to be mad at Jungkook, those thoughts had quickly subsided and replaced with butterflies and nausea. Did you really love Jungkook? You always have, but the feeling in the pit of your heart is pulling you to a different type of love. You cared about him, sometimes even more than yourself. You’ve always wanted the best for him, even if that meant sacrificing your feelings in the process. Now you were stuck between a rock in a hard place, much like you were back in high school when you had a crush on Jungkook. Fuck. And now you have to watch him fight someone like dogs,

You shake yourself from your thoughts, as loud music flows through your ears and you look around for Taehyung. Luckily, his ashy hair color is easy to spot amongst the crowd and you push yourself to him, squeezing in between bodies and their chatter.

“My bet’s on Jeon,” a voice says.

“Fuck no, Eric isn’t gonna let the same guy beat him twice.”

You try to ignore the snide comments about Jungkook and when you get to Taehyung, he greets you with a smile.

“Hey, everything good?” He asks.

You lick you dry lips, “I don’t know,” you say honestly. Taehyung’s eyes drop and he nods.

Suddenly, all the lights go out in the venue and a roar of screams and cheers fills the void. You stay still, pressing your body close to Taehyung. It’s not that you feel unsafe, but this environment—it wasn’t for you at all. You heart rate quickens when a man, give a few years on your age, gets into the boxing ring before you, the crowd cheering even louder for him. He bumps a microphone with his palm before bringing it to his mouth.

“Welcome, welcome!” He beams with a smile, “What an outstanding turnout we have tonight! You guys choose a good one to watch because tonight is the rematch of two of the best fighters I’ve seen in a long time…”

“Let’s give a welcome to our first fighter, weighing in at 148 pounds, 5 foot 11, Jeon Jungkook!”

Being an underground fighting ring, there isn’t a posse escorting Jungkook to the ring. He’s got Jimin by his left side, Min Yoongi on the right. Jungkook is shirtless, wearing only a pair of navy shorts, black and white boxing gloves on his hands. He enters the ring with cheers and you inhale and exhale deeply. You look up at Taehyung and he gives you a nod of reassurance to calm down. Jungkook jumps around in place a few times, shaking his arms and shoulders out. From your seat, you can’t read his eyes or facial expression—but he looks calm and unnerved.

“Coming in next, weighing in at 145 pounds, 6 feet tall, Kim Eric!”

Jungkook’s opponent walks in next, three guys surrounding him. He walks slow and steady, his bare chest tattooed beautifully, his boxing gloves a dark red. He enters the ring to cheers and this Eric guy’s gaze doesn’t leave Jungkook’s body one time. Jungkook hasn’t spared one glance at the guy and you find yourself somewhat smiling. Jungkook has always been a cocky-fuck when it’s come to sports which would usually annoy you, but here right now—he looked hot as fuck standing there as if he had no care in the world. Jungkook stands on the left corner of the ring, sitting on a small stool as Jimin and Yoongi talk to him. Jungkook nods, absorbing their information. Eric and his guys do the same.

Suddenly, both men stand and Jimin is putting a mouth guard in Jungkook’s mouth and with one last nod, he finally looks over at Eric, who has already made his way to the center of the ring with the announcer. Jungkook stalks over slowly, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Alright guys, I want a clean fight. No kicking, no cheap shots. If you get knocked down, I give you ten seconds to get up. You look me in the eyes and say you’re good before anymore fighting happens alright. We go for five rounds, unless more is needed. A knockout wins. Touch gloves.”

Jungkook sticks out his gloves for Eric but Eric only stares at him, ignoring the sign of solidarity.

“Fuck you,” Eric says to Jungkook and sends a chill down your spine. Jungkook rolls his eyes, backing away from him, but stays silent.

“Alright… ready… fight!”

Time slows as a bell rings loudly, the cheers get even louder, and you find yourself gripping Taehyung’s arm for support. Jungkook starts to move around the ring slowly, but Eric isn’t having that—immediately rushing to Jungkook to get a few jabs in. Jungkook manages to dodge them perfectly before Eric can corner him. Jungkook keeps his gloves high and never looks away from Eric. Eric comes after Jungkook again, jabbing once—twice—the third time hitting Jungkook square in the face.

“Shit,” you breathe out, eyes widening.

This time, Jungkook comes for Eric, his jabs coming quick and calculated, landing Eric in the body once. Jungkook jabs again and hits him in the face. Eric moves around quickly, Jungkook not quick to follow him. Eric comes after him again, Jungkook blocking his jabs, but missing at the end, leading to Jungkook getting hit in the face once again as well as a body shot.

Eric is coming in hot, throwing punches and jabs left and right, making Jungkook dance around to dodge them. After a few moments, Jungkook begins to fight back, landing Eric square in the face twice. You notice that Jungkook must have busted Eric’s lip as blood now protrudes from his mouth. This seems to send Eric into overdrive and attacks Jungkook quick and fast. You cover your mouth when Eric has Jungkook trapped against the rope, landing body punches after body punches.

“Alright!! Enough, break it up!!” The announcer gets Eric off of Jungkook and Eric starts to laugh in a very showman's way. Jungkook is breathing heavy and he tilts his head—a habit of his that comes out when he’s frustrated or angry. This seems to be both.

Jungkook and Eric continue to throw jabs at one another. Within a few seconds, the whole fight seems to change as Eric manages to slip past one of Jungkook’s blocks and lands him straight on the cheekbone. Jungkook’s body almost freezes before he falls back on the floor and you gasp at the sight.

“Fuck! Taehyung—“

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” he says but his eyes never met yours.

The announcer is on the floor with Jungkook counting down from ten and Jungkook finally sits up when he reaches the number four.

“You good son?” The guy asks Jungkook.

He nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Jungkook gets up and walks around, stretching his neck around, waiting for the ref to announce the second round.

“That��s what you get motherfucker,” Eric says walking past him to his corner. Again, Jungkook says nothing before sitting down. Jimin takes out his mouth guard and lets Jungkook drink some water.

“Why is Jungkook letting him hit him like that?!” You ask Taehyung, looking up to him, “He’s getting his ass kicked!”

Taehyung shakes his head, “Jungkook’s smart Y/N… he’s trying to run Eric’s energy out. If Eric keeps swinging the way he right now, he’ll be passed out on his own soon.”

The second round commences and this time, it’s Jungkook who comes out fast. Jungkook soon has Eric trapped against the rope, landing jab after jab. The ref intervenes and lets them get some air. Jungkook’s skin is sweaty and red hot and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look as mad as he does right now.

Eric counters quickly, catching up with Jungkook again, landing punch after punch. Jungkook escapes but Eric sticks out a foot, causing Jungkook to trip. The whole crowd—yourself included—start to yell at the action. The referee pulls Eric back and points his finger at him. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know it’s a scolding by the way his mouth is moving quickly. You look over at Jungkook who shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s talking to Jimin as Yoongi cares to a cut on Jungkook’s eyebrow.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” you make out Jungkook saying.

The third round starts and it seems both Eric and Jungkook are equally fighting this time. Jungkook’s combinations are cleaner than Eric’s, anyone can see that, but the way Eric keeps landing in on Jungkook—makes you feel like this isn’t going to end well for him.

“Come on Jungkook!” You find yourself yelling in the chaos, your whole body shaking as Jungkook dances around the ring to get away from Eric. Eric has him trapped again, but with Jungkook’s strength, gets Eric off of him to turn the tables. There’s sweat and blood coming off both fighters and it’s got to be the most horrifying thing you’ve ever seen.

“Come on you little bitch,” Eric spits at Jungkook, “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Jungkook says nothing again, jabbing when he needs to.

“Fucking hell why won’t you speak to me you fucker?” Eric speaks again.

“I don’t have shit to say to you,” Jungkook finally retorts back. “You lost my respect when you sent those pussies to jump Park and I.”

Eric swings hard and Jungkook ducks, barely missing it by an inch. Eric is tired, Jungkook too, but Jungkook can see a weakness in him now.

“Come on it was all in good fun,” he says with a smirk, “You know what else would be good fun?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

“Kicking your ass,” he pauses and before Jungkook can do anything else, Eric swings down hard, landing on Jungkook’s body knocking the breath out of him. Jungkook stumbles backwards, holding his stomach, he lands again on the ground with a clunk. Eric stands over him, before taking out his mouthpiece, “And stealing your bitch you invited tonight.”

“Goddammit,” you mutter watching the scene unfold in front of you. No one knows what they’re saying to each other over the noise and you honestly couldn’t care. You just want Jungkook to get up and finish this shit.

Jungkook stands up, though with a visible wince in his face. He’s breathing heavy and is filled with pure rage. The fourth bell rings and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to attack him. Jungkook is fast and furious, landing punch after punch and you’ve never been happier for someone to get their ass kicked. Jungkook lands a punch straight across the face, causing Eric to stumble backwards. Even though you know nothing about boxing, Eric looks exhausted where Jungkook looks ready for more. With everything left in Eric, he starts coming after Jungkook. Jungkook blocks until he can’t block no more, but something in Jungkook’s stance changes. Jungkook steps forward, his right hand landing straight on Eric’s face cause his form to break. Jungkook steps quickly again, his left hand bringing an uppercut to Eric’s jaw.

The room nearly falls silent as Eric loses balance, going down straight on his back and head. When he hits the ground, the room erupts in a roar so loud it nearly deafens you.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. The ref is down on the ground, counting down from 10, and then it’s at 5 and then 3 and then—

“Ladies and gentlemen, Jeon Jungkook wins this rematch!” The ref grabs Jungkook’s hand and holds it up over his head and you find yourself jumping up and down, pulling Taehyung down for a hug.

“Taehyung oh my fucking god!” You exclaim. He smiles brightly at you.

“I told you, he knows what he’s doing,” he says and you nod. You couldn’t deny it now—as stupid as Jungkook was for getting involved in this, his talent for the sport was extraordinary. “Come on, let’s get to his locker room,” Taehyung pulls you by your hand and you make your way back to where you were earlier.

Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet, but you find Yoongi already in there, setting out a first aid kit.

“Hey guys,” he says, “Great fight, huh?”

“Yeah, it was brilliant,” Taehyung says. The door opening catches your attention and Jungkook walks through with Jimin. Your eyes instantly meet and you can’t even stop yourself from running to him and throwing your arms around him. He exhales deeply with a sharp wince, returning your bone crushing grip with his own.

“Alright lovebirds, he needs to get fixed up,” Yoongi’s voice interrupts you two. You hesitantly let him go and he sits down in front of Yoongi, sitting forward on his knees. He’s still breathing heavy, dripping sweat everywhere.

“Fucking hell Jungkook, since when do you box southpaw?” Taehyung pushes his shoulder slightly and Jungkook only laughs as Yoongi wipes away the blood on his eyebrow.

“I’ve been working on it for awhile,” he says, “Just never had the right time to use it… until tonight at least,” he says giving you a glance. “Eric is all talk, no bite. I can’t fucking stand him.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be boxing him again anytime soon,” Jimin says, “He’s embarrassed himself twice now.”

“Yeah, agreed,” Yoongi chimes in, placing one of those bandaids that pull the skin together like stitches above Jungkook’s eyebrow. “No one will want to box you now knowing you can southpaw.”

Jungkook looks at you and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He said he wasn’t going to fight after this, but the way they are talking—it sounds as if he is.

“Well, I think my boxing career is probably over after tonight,” Jungkook speaks up as if he could read your mind. He tears his eyes away from you as the others look confused.

“What?!”

“Why?”

“Jungkook c’mon!”

“Guys,” he breathes out, “I made a promise, okay? Besides, I have enough money now, I don’t need anything else.”

Your features soften as you listen to his words. His promise was to you. A smile grows on your face as you watch his body calm down from his intensified state. Once Yoongi is finished, he packs everything up. The five of you talk amongst yourselves before Taehyung turns to you.

“You ready to go home?” He asks.

“I can take you home,” Jungkook says before you can answer.

“Okay,” you give him a small smile that he returns.

“Okay then, I’m gonna head out, I won’t be home tonight Jungkook,” he says.

“I know I know, at your girlfriends,” Jungkook swats his hand and Taehyung flips him off before leaving.

Jungkook stands up throwing on a shirt and slipping into Birkenstocks. “Come on,” he says to you, holding out his head. You gladly take it and it feels more like home than home ever has.

_____

“Fuck Jungkook, how much money is this?” You ask him as he hands you a white envelope as he unbuckles himself in the driver seat. The envelope is thick and you peak out of curiosity, your jaw dropping.

“I told you,” he says snatching it back from you, “As much food as I’ve bought you lately, hopefully this will last.”

You swat at his sarcastic comment before letting out a laugh. Instead of going home, you asked Jungkook to go anywhere but there. You’re parked outside of his apartment complex, which was fine with you. The two of you needed to talk. Not much talking goes on as a silence falls between you two.

“Y/N.”

“Jungkook.”

The two of you laugh as you speak at the same time.

“You first,” you say, turning your body to face him fully.

He takes a deep breath before speaking, “I know I said it earlier but I really am sorry about this past week. There’s not an excuse that justifies me acting like a complete dick to you, especially when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say.

“And when I said you’re the best part of my day… I fucking mean it. I’m sorry for coming onto you like I have, I just,” he doesn’t finish, his eyes looking everywhere but you.

“Jungkook,” you get his attention again, reaching over the console to grab his hand, “Don’t apologize for that. Yeah, you’ve been a dick each time something happens between us but that’s the apology I care about.”

“I just don’t know how to say it,” he mutters, caressing your hand gently.

“So you’re really not going to box anymore?” you inquire. Jungkook was good, more than good... it couldn’t be easy giving up on that.

He shakes his head, “No. I told you I didn’t want you worrying about me anymore. I keep my promises,” his smile his sweet and you swear your feel yourself melting more and more into his touch.

“Jungkook,” you let out a deep sigh, “I didn’t realize how much I needed you in my life until we became friends again. You know almost everything about me and I don’t want anyone else to ever take your place…”

It’s hanging there by a thread—the words on your tongue—and you’re not sure you can say them and they feel constricting—but you know you have to and—

“I love you,” the words come from your mouth and you feel like you could puke. “I don’t know when or why, but I’m in love with you Jungkook. You’re all I think about anymore and I don’t want anyone else when you’re right here.”

Jungkook parts his mouth, staring at you with a look you can’t read. Fuck, you fucked this up for sure.

“Shit—I know that was so rushed and stupid. Fuck I’m an idiot—“

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice interrupts you and you try to hide within your own body from embarrassment. With your hand of yours in his, he pulls on it, forcing you closer to him. You look at him wide eyed before he presses his lips against yours firmly. As usual, his lips feel so good and you melt into him. This is good right? What the hell is going on? You pull away from him after a few moments, an unsure look on your face.

He nuzzles his nose against your own before speaking, “I’ve wanted to tell you that since the night of our graduation.”

“Really?” You ask as you feel your palms sweat, heart racing.

He nods, “I’ve been in love with you for god knows how long now.”

A smile creeps upon your face and you let out a sigh of relief. Jungkook watches you with interest, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can take you home whenever,” he says quietly.

You’re quick to shake your head, “No, it’s okay… I can stay, if you want,” your voice trails off and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze.

You don’t notice how Jungkook bites his lip but he does say, “Yeah. Of course.”

_____

Jungkook’s apartment is how you remember it, though a lot quieter without Taehyung here. You’re sure the reason Jungkook’s apartment is spotless is because of him. He has always been clean and organized and Taehyung… well he was Taehyung.

“I’m gonna get in the shower, my room is in here if you wanna chill,” Jungkook says and you give him a small nod. He rids his shirt before he even closes the bathroom door and it makes you gulp. This is new territory for the both of you. The two of you just admitted your love for one another and you’re about to spend the night with Jungkook? And not in a friend way? Jesus Christ you could be tripping.

You walk into Jungkook’s room and it smells just like him. His bed is neatly made and his desk is sprawled with two computer monitors and some notebooks from school. His walls are decorated as you’d expect—a Korean flag hanging, a ‘Saturday’s Are For The Boys’ flag—typical—and a few Beta Tae Sigma plaques scattered. What catches your eye is a wall of neatly lined photos taped to the wall. You look around at all of them with a smile. Most of them are Jungkook and his frat brothers, Taehyung, a few of his older brother, there’s even a picture of you, him, Taehyung, and Jennie from high school. One that catches your eye the most is one of just you and him. It’s an old picture but the memories from that day flood your mind. It was from your first week of freshman year here at university. Both of your smiles are wide and you two are hugging each other’s frames closely. Jennie took the picture you remember. It makes you smile to yourself, butterflies entering in your stomach. Did you love Jungkook then and didn’t know it? The way you’re looking at him in the picture would say so.

You suddenly feel an urge to be close to him again. You’ve never been a ballsy person but as you look back at the bathroom door that’s closed, your desire to be touched again by Jungkook again overwhelms your senses. Closing your eyes briefly, you don’t need much more convincing before your stripping yourself of your jacket and shoes. You kick off your jeans and sweater, leaving you only in your undergarments. You tip toe to the bathroom, grabbing the handle, opening it easy.

The shower water is loud and there’s steam in the small quarters. Jungkook is humming to himself as you start to take off the rest of your clothing. With a deep breath, you grab the shower curtain, pulling it back. Jungkook’s back is facing you but he hears you instantly.

“Shit Y/N you scar—“ he stops mid sentence as he takes in your naked frame getting in the shower too.

“Hi,” you mumble meeting his eye contact.

“H-hey,” he nearly chokes on his own air, trying to keep his eyes up from your breasts.

“Scooch,” you smirk at him to move to get underneath the water too. He does as you say watching you curiously. You’re in the process of wetting your hair when his chest is pressed firmly against your back.

“This wasn’t expected,” he says into your ear, his hands moving to grip your waist from behind.

“You’re the one that wanted me to go home with you,” you say giving him an innocent glance over your shoulder. He laughs biting his lip, pressing them against the skin behind of your ear. You lean into the physical contact, feeling almost all of your stress go away instantly.

You spin around to look at him fully as it’s a frenzy whose mouth collides with whose. He leans down to grasp your lips in their entirety, pulling you closer to him than you ever have been. He pulls you away from the water so it doesn’t get in your face as he presses you against the shower wall. His tongue dips in and out of your mouth, his hands free roaming over your breasts and down to your ass, whatever he likes within the moment. Your hands grip his dark locks as he moves his mouth from your mouth, to your neck, down to your chest. He waste no time taking your right nipple in his mouth and you exhale deeply at the feeling.

You pull his face back to yours, kissing him again not able to get enough of his lips. His hands trail down from your ass to the front of your thighs, getting closer and closer to your wet center.

“Is this okay?” He asks as his fingers rub slowly back forth between your entrance. You can barely speak as his touch is setting you on fire but you manage to nod.

“Yes, please, Jungkook,” you say. He enters one finger, then another stretching you out nicely. Fuck you forgot how good this felt with him.

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he breathes heavily and you glance down at his hardening cock. Your mouth waters at the sight. Jungkook lifts one of your legs and starts to take his fingers in and out of you slowly and agonizing. He fingers you deep and rough and you can already feel a climax coming.

“Shit,” you croak out as Jungkook rubs one of your nipples, kissing your neck. There’s a pain at the back of your head at his force pushing you against the wall but it’s easy to ignore when it feels so good below your waist. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come,” you say as the snap inside of you is about to break.

“Come on baby,” his voice is deep and groggy. As if on cue, you feel your climax wash over you and you’re not shy to be loud. You know no one is here so it doesn’t bother you one bit. Jungkook kisses you against feverishly as he pulls his fingers from you. You feel impossibly empty but you know what you want to do and you’re not near anywhere tired. Your hands travel down to his front, grasping his hard dick in your hands. God, he’s so big.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook seethes through his teeth as you pull on the sensitive skin, all the way from his pubic hair down to the tip. He places a hand beside of your head, leaning forward against your forehead. His eyes are shut tightly and you lick your lips, wanting to take him in your mouth.

You push him away from you slightly and move down to your knees, your face front and center with his beautiful dick. You take no time to put him in your mouth which causes Jungkook to groan loudly.

“Y/N,” he says looking down at you. He’s never seen a better sight. You make sure to keep eye contact as you bob your head up and down his shaft. While one of Jungkook’s hands stays against the wall, his other grips your hair, fisting it into a makeshift ponytail. “Oh fuck—He pulls on your hair and it only makes you want to please him more. Your left hand go to his balls, the right helping you up and down his length. He pulls your hair again and you take as much of him as you can. His tip reaches the back of your throat and you gag around his length and Jungkook thinks he could actually cry. Watching you through half open lids, he decides this isn’t how he is going to come—not tonight at least.

He grabs your hair and pulls you away from him and you’re slightly confused when he brings you to your feet.

“Come on, I need to be inside of you,” he says and you nod eagerly as he turns off the shower. He leads you out of the bathroom in a frenzy, pulling up into his bedroom. You shut the door behind you and he pins you against it, kissing you hard and deep.

Both of you are dripping wet but neither of you care to dry off as he carries you to his bed. You settle on his lap as his hands rest on your waist tightly. Your hands grip his face just as tight but you’re careful not to touch his injury above his brow. You couldn’t believe he was just fighting two hours ago—that seemed like forever ago compared to now. A lot can change in a short period of time and it makes you slightly chuckle against his mouth.

“What?” He breaks the kiss asking you with a hazy grin.

You shake your head, “Nothing,” you smile pushing his hair from his forehead. You liked seeing it. “I love you,” you repeat. And you probably won’t stop, ever.

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.”

“Let me ride you,” you whisper in his ear and his eyes light up like a child. “Are you clean?” You ask him.

He nods quickly, “You?” You nod in response and both of you feel excited and anxious.

You rub your hand against his length again and you hold it up as you adjust yourself to sit on him. As soon as his tip enters you, a shiver runs down your spine. As you sink yourself lower, groans come from both of your mouths, a deep moan erupting from you when you bottom out.

“Oh my god,” you breathe in and out to control yourself.

“Ride me baby,” he says and you start to move your hips against his. He fills up every inch of you and it feels so good. Your hips lift away from his and he chases them with his own thrusts. He kisses your neck as you throw your head back, your hands digging into his shoulders for leverage.

“Fuck Jungkook,” you say seeing stars in your eyes, “You feel so good,” you whine.

“You have no idea,” he says against your sticky skin, one of his hands bruising into your waist helping you ride him in a fluid motion. “Goddammit,” he says.

As you grind against him, your clit rubs against his pubic hair, sending your toes curling. He senses that you’ve found your sweet spot against him and places his thumb there instead to rub the sensitive bud.

You feel yourself inching closer and closer to a second climax when Jungkook stalls your motion.

“Lay on your stomach,” he breathes and you do as he says climbing off of him quickly. He doesn’t even give you time to get there all the way before he’s grabbing your hips to pull your ass to him. He slides right into you and you nearly scream into his mattress. Your hands grip the sheets as he fucks you deeper from behind. He smacks your ass once, twice sending a loud whine from your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter trying to focus on Jungkook’s whines and small ministrations from his mouth. He reaches forward, rubbing your clit again and you want to die and go to heaven at the feeling. Neither of you try to be quiet anymore as you feel the second orgasm coming over you. You clench and unclench around Jungkook’s length as he stalls his thrusts to feel the action.

“Come inside of me,” you say, knowing both of you are clean and you have an IUD.

“Jesus,” he breathes, picking up his pace again chasing after his own high. As the sensitivity becomes too much, Jungkook finally lets go, coming deep inside of you. He holds your hips close against him, trying to deepen his climax as far as possible. The hot cum inside of you feels good and you moan at the feeling.

When Jungkook finishes completely in you, he pulls out with a sigh. You collapse against the bed, completely spent. Jungkook finds a clean rag in his pile of clean laundry and is quick to clean yourself and him up. You feel like you can barely move as Jungkook joins you in his bed. He turns you over to face him and he kisses you gently which you return happily.

“I love you,” he says for the third time tonight, kissing your nose.

“I love you too,” you entangling your legs together. The room is silent apart from your breathing and you’re about to go to sleep when he nudges you with his hand.

“Come on,” he says.

“What?” You ask.

“Let’s actually take a shower now since someone wouldn’t let me,” he eyes you with accusation.

You squint at him before flipping him off. “Fuck off.”

_____

The next morning you wake up with Jungkook hugging you from behind, his face nuzzeled in your hair. You have no clue what the time may be, but you since it’s early by the way the birds chirp out the window. You stretch out your arms as best as you could and try to move your legs, but it doesn’t work since Jungkook’s heavy legs are tangled with your own. You’re tempted to fall back asleep but when Jungkook moves behind you, you turn to see his ruckus. You’re met with his brown eyes and you jump slightly, not expecting to see him awake. Both of you let out the faintest of laughs, not saying anything.

Jungkook leans over and kisses your lips, “Good morning.” His voice is groggy and he shuts his eyes again as you fully turn your body to his.

“Good morning,” you respond, watching the way his chest rises and falls gently. “How’d you sleep?”

“Hmm, really good,” he mumbles. You are about to join him in closing your eyes again until a loud rumble comes from your belly. Jungkook laughs.

“Hungry much?”

“Starving,” you groan, “I didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“Why not?”

“I was too nervous before your match… I thought I would yak if I ate,” you answer. Stupid, you know, but it was your train of thought last night.

He opens his eyes again, “Let’s go to the diner for breakfast… employee discount.”

You glare at him, “Is that all I am to you? A fucking employee discount,” you say saracastically.

“And my girlfriend if that helps?” He raises an eyebrow. Your cheeks heat up and you smile.

“Welllll, since my boyfriend is rich now and gets a discount, I’m assuming he’s paying.”

He smirks, “Obviously.”

“Will you take me to my place so I can change? And then we’ll go?”

He nods, his hand caressing the side of your body, “As much as I wanna stay in bed, I could really go for pancakes right now.”

“Waffles are superior,” you remark.

He frowns with a disgusted face, “Get the fuck out of my bed you heathen.”

_____

Jungkook insisted on coming up to your apartment with you because he didn’t want to wait in the car, but you know he just wants to see you change in front of him. Boys are all the fucking same.

As you fumbled with the key, the door opens and whatever Jungkook is saying to you is suddenly drowned out when you see—

“Jennie?”

“Taehyung?”

The names leave yours and Jungkook’s mouth as you watch the scene in front of you. Jennie is sitting on the counter, Taehyung in between her legs with a coffee cup in hand. Could be worse but what the fuck is going on?!

“Shit,” Jennie says pushing away Taehyung. “Hey guys,” she smiles awkwardly. You and Jungkook look at each other confused before Jungkook speaks.

“Uh, Taehyung?” He asks and Taehyung is. as red as a tomato.

“Oh fuck,” Jennie mutters shaking her head. She looks at Taehyung for backup.

Taehyung pinches his nose before speaking, “Um… we’re dating.”

You and Jungkook have the same reaction as your mouth drops.

“Jennie is your secret girlfriend?” Jungkook asks.

“Surprise,” Jennie smiles again looking at you.

You look at Jungkook and shake your head at the four of you. What a fucking cliché.

The four of you go to breakfast together that morning and it’s like old times, just with a sprinkle of something new. As long as the four of you have known each other, you’ve always had each other’s backs. Even now, with you and Jungkook and Jennie and Taehyung—you know that would never change from here on out. Turns out, Jennie just thought her and Taehyung were friends with benefits, while Taehyung was telling everyone he had a girlfriend because he was that smitten with her. The four of you laugh at the situation at hand and you couldn’t believe everyone was back together... like this. As Jungkook’s pancakes and your waffles arrive, Jungkook’s beaming smile lighting the whole room you think to yourself—this is how it’s supposed to be.

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idanit · 3 years

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possibly underappreciated Good Omens fics I enjoyed once upon a time

Indirectly inspired by a video series about fanfiction I watched, I decided to pull together a list of Good Omens fics I have bookmarked as stories I enjoyed, but which have less than 250-300 kudos at the time I’m writing this. No particular order. They’re accompanied by short excerpts from my private fic reading notes (not originally intended to be read by anyone but me, mind), sometimes slightly edited for clarity—and, sometimes, the comments I left on the fics.

This list sat in my drafts for a long time and the recent S2 announcement reminded me of it. I’d love it if it inspired you to do something similar! Spread the love.

And mind the tags, please.

△ = general and teen ▲ = mature and explicit

thermodynamic equilibrium ▲ 7K the author has such an ear for dialogue and is unapologetic about what they want to write the characters like. They think of the characters as a mix of TV and book canon, but they feel like a homemade blend to me. (...) It’s very funny.

such dear follies ▲ 6K I can really picture this Aziraphale—Crowley as well, but her especially. She’s rather distinct. (...) Nice writing.

The Words Were With - △ 1.2K post-Blitz vignette, Aziraphale realizes what he feels and wonders if they're human enough for this. I liked it, and I liked the tag "transhumanism, but in reverse?", too—what an interesting idea. I'd say it's a vignette in a dire need of a follow-up, but, well, there's the show. The show is the follow-up. It fits very nicely within the canon and I totally believe it could have happened, like a deleted scene.

Gossip and Good Counsel △ 19K/? I love their companionship and how they're set up to be opposites by the management even though they get on pretty well. It feels very in keeping with the canon, but I feel like the fact that it's an F/F set in this particular time period adds a meaningful layer to the situation. It's women supporting each other in the world of men, working with the personas that are created for them, but, privately, being normal, well-rounded people. (...) and of course your writing is always a pleasure to read. (...) SDHDGDHDHDG Maisie is truly an Aziraphale.

Crowley Went Down to Georgia (he was looking for a soul to steal) △ 6K This was nice. Based on a song I didn’t know. Crowley goes to a funeral in the USA, one of a fiddler he knew and lost a bet to once. (...) The fic has not one but two songs composed for it and embedded inside it and that makes it even better. I really enjoyed the experience.

The Thing With Feathers △ 18K WARLOCK you'rE HORRIBLE AND I LOVE IT I would read an entire novel-length fic just of Crowley fighting his battles with Warlock. Written like this? It would be a blast. (...) The OCs are believably characterized and well-loved by the story. (...) Everyone seems to need a friend in this house. (...) This was so fun, and at the same time, their mission has weight here (...) We wonder about what the future holds even though we know it.

Here Quiet Find △ 11K This fic aimed for my head and the aim was sure precise. It was a story of Crowley sensing Aziraphale's distress and finding him in a self-quarantined English village in the seventeenth century, tired and anxious. It's hurt/comfort, so there was washing and bedsharing and I had to love it, so I did.

outside of time △ 2K Post-Almostgeddon, (...) nicely-written, short, but strung with a soft kind of tension and unspoken words. There's no drama, just "can we really", and "do you really" of sudden freedom. They fall into being inseparable. Book canon, which I like for this story (sitting on a tarmac). I liked the footnotes. There's a mention of Eliot. All in all, very much yes.

She'asani Yisrael △ 2K It’s Crowley going through a two-hour service and drinking blessed wine. He also keeps an eye on a boy he was asked to. It’s 1946. It was pretty good, so far the best Jewish GO fic, I think, from the ones I’ve read.

To Guard The Eastern Gate △ 11K I loved it. You really made Sodom feel lived-in; the description of Keret, Hurriya and Yassib's house and relationship were great. I got attached to both them and the city (...) Aziraphale and Crawley’s interactions were generally very entertaining. I laughed (...) Your rendering of their voices just lands so well (...) But then oh, the entire ending (...) hurt, hurt a lot, and your descriptions are so vivid.

If you’ve been waiting (for falling in love) △ 14K AAAAA a good ending line. The whole paragraph, in fact. I love a good smattering of philosophy in my fics, and this was really nice. I can get behind Thomas Aequinus's and Crowley's view on eternity. It's (...) a pretty simple fic (...) - the courage to express yourself and take a risk is awarded with winning what was at stake by the virtue of reciprocity - but the way it was intertwined with a study of how they would experience a forever was done well.

Holy unnecessary ▲ 2.2K It's well-written. (...) this is my type of sexual humour if I have any. So subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. Lovely.

The Parting Glass △ 17K Through the ages, they're dancing around their relationship until after the Armageddoff. (...) Wow, this was really, really nice. Very simple in its concept and nothing I haven't read before, but very well-executed. (...) AAAAH I LOVED the first chapter. I always like abbeys as settings, that's a given, but the banter, the good writing, the moral ambiguity!

Name The Sky △ 33K This Crowley is different, but very intriguing. Without his sarcastic talk, and much more animalistic. (...) I love how expressive Crowley is. (...) This fic has a very nice balance of drama and levity. I don't love Crowley-before-the-Fall stories very much, but with this execution I can read about it. (...) Okay I've read Crowley offering fruits, and even Aziraphale biting fruits, but the two of them sharing the apple? Outstanding. Ingenious. What a take.

A Flame in Your Heart △ 5K post-Blitz (why are so many dance fics post-Blitz?), they go to the bookshop and have an actually believable conversation. Then they dance the gavotte. It was really nice! Believable writing, emotions, the dancing! (...) Of course it's too early for them, (...) but the author's note? yeah.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me ▲ 32K At this point it's just reading original stories with characters with names and some personality traits that I recognize. (...) I really enjoy this, the careful dance, the opposition between their views. (...) This is well-written, wow. (...) it's not an easy read (...) this story feels very believably 50s, but also reaches out to the present time.

Liebestraum ▲ 10K/? It really is like music. I'm enjoying the writing a lot. (...) oh my actual god. This, this? Wow, uh. This came for my throat. (...) THE MUSICAL COMPOSITION, THE MOTIF RETURNING, THE AUTHOR KNOWS WHERE IT'S AT (...) Excellent. This hits the right beats so precisely, (...) and with feeling, too.

Down Comforter △ 2.4K and they lay down in angeldown, a soft rug ‘neath their heads– alright. Well, Crowley lies under Aziraphale's wing on a Persian rug after the Apocalypse, and they talk (...). It was sweet.

The Corsair of Carcosa △ 5K Crowley wakes up from a nap, visits Aziraphale for some drinking, and they read The King in Yellow that he happens to own. Good writing, so I'm bought. Aziraphale mentions Beardsley, so I'm bought twice over. My god, a discussion of etheral/occult madness? Caused by some wrong/true reading? Yes.

Very Good, Omens! △ 6K It's rather well-written, well-pastiched. People don't do that too often, nowadays - try to write in the style of a particular writer. (...) I love wordplay like this.

Reviving Robin Hood: The Complicated Process of Crème Brûlée △ 30K it's well-written (...), has a rhythm to it, and quiet humour. (...) Finally some nice, good, light writing. The attention to detail! (...) I'm still reading most of it aloud, the rhythm of it compels me to. (...) okay this does sound like Pratchett&Gaiman, the Good Omens itself (...) The fic is meandering, hilarious, sensitive in all the right places, and overall lovely.

my dear acquaintance △ 1K Oh. Oh. Yes, yes! Aziraphale in Russia, Russia I've never been in, but I can feel the snow and the evening of. Very real, and the bar, too. Attention to detail - vodka flavoured with dill, what on earth? Yes. He would totally have a distinct taste in operas and he would totally complain about a subpar one. I'm glad Tchaikovsky's there.

there is a crack in everything △ 1.8K This was good! Ah. Inspired by a comment (...), I went looking for Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese fics—really, what a big brain moment someone had and why have I never thought to look for them? This is Crowley getting suddenly anxious and Aziraphale going out of his way, through all his layers of not-thinking and denial, to console him. I also really liked how the Arrangement is a carefully unacknowledged partnership-marriage.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars △ 6K No conflict, no plot, one tiny arc like a ripple on the surface of water on a calm sunny day - of Aziraphale discovering Crowley’s scars. It's the South Downs and it's early summer. They bask and swim in a spring. Non-sexual nudity, love in the air like a scent. Nice.

Nineteen Footnotes In Search Of A Story △ 0.4K This is a Good Omens story told only through footnotes. Your mind can fill in the gaps. Fascinating (...). Also, it’s an experiment so apt for this particular fandom.

Hell on Earth △ 6.5K Oh, I loved it! How could I not love it: it's Beelzebub-centric, it's historical, it has classical painting, and even a hilarious scene with a cuneiform phrase, as if I didn't enjoy this story enough already. There are so few Beelzebub fics out there and I find searching for them very difficult (I accept recs if anyone has any), and it's such a shame, so this was really like a gift to the fandom. I absolutely adore the way you portrayed them, small, frightening, powerful, and confident. Also, it was super fun to see how different Crowley seems when we're not in his POV or in a story about him and Aziraphale. (...)

Go Up to Ramoth-Gilead and Triumph △ 24K Daegaer is... pure class. (...) hdhdhdh what pfttt why you so funny (...) I love this Crowley. (...) This got unexpectedly intense. (...) I love the little nods to the fact that Israelites, especially the poorer ones, still believe in other gods. I also really like that they sleep on roofs. It's just the kind of detail that grounds the story and shows that the author is, in fact, a historian.

#good omens #good omens fic rec #fanfiction #fic rec #idanit reads #i also have a multifannish F/F rec list in the works #all my bookmarks are private but i feel the need to share the love

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miss-ingno · 3 years

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Ao3 Tag Game

T1I was tagged by @amethystinawrites! Thank you, friend :D

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 161 total, 62 of which are locked (so you only see 99 if you’re not logged in)

2. What is your total AO3 word count?

As of Oct 25, 2021 I have 898,020 words posted on Ao3.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

108 works for RTAH RPF, my old main fandom

9 for Guardian (镇魂) which is my current fandom, so expect that number to go up

7 for MCU (including a Jurassic World crossover)

6 for Critical Role (campaign 1 and 2)

6 for Yu-Gi-Oh! (tho most of them are archived from my FFnet days)

5 Dragon Age: Inquisition and 3 Dragon Age II fics

4 for Lazer Team (a RT movie)

4 in Disney’s Descendants (I really should finish the Juma blind date fic)

2 in Harry Potter (both archived from FFnet, a drabble collection + a YGO! crossover)

1 in Assassin’s Creed (the only one I was proud enough to crosspost from FFnet to Ao3 when I made my account, the other archiving happened later :’D)

1 for Leverage (a small OT3 thingie)

1 for Sense8

1 unfinished WIP for The Untamed, which really, I need to get back to

1 Teen Wolf one (never watched the show but read all the fic lol)

1 in Stargate SG-1 (which is a Critical Role crossover, not a pure one)

a very short and unfinished Naruto fic

also a handful of DnD ficlets and 2 stories set in Vigilante2890, a sci-fi comic that doesn’t have a fandom tag (yet) so it’s under Original Work in the drop down menu

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Partners in Crime

Blindfold

The Dwight Timing

Take No Prisoners (Take No Shit)

Just Let Me Know If You Want It (It’s Strictly Physical)

The first 4 are all from RTAH days and contain Mr. Persona Non Grata so I hope I’ll get popular work in other fandoms to dethrone them some day 😅 I’m still proud of my writing - but also Prisoner is my oldest and first in that fandom and doesn’t stand up to my current level of quality/scrutiny RIP but it was also the first time I a) hit 30k in a fic and b) finished a chaptered WIP

Strictly Physical, on the other hand, holds up well enough and honestly kinda sad I didn’t stick around DAII/Fenders fandom for longer because those two were one hell of a ship :D

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! For one, getting comments leaves me super excited and I want to give that feeling back. For another, I love engaging with readers/my stories/others’ stories, so I also appreciate it when an author replies to my comments, thus I do it, too.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Ohhh hm. I tend to go for happy or at least hopeful endings, so let me think.

Eternal Eclipse ends on something of a bittersweet note - it’s hopeful, but the lovers aren’t reunited, and grievances are aired but not necessarily comforted? I tried for soft (I really wanted a happy ending) but decided I should do that in a sequel, which I’m now not gonna write, so :’) we’re stuck with this ending I guess.

And Blood Alone Remains has a different ending for each character because I was playing with the characters all being at a different point in their arcs. So the last scene ends with someone just starting their second act, and another character being thrown in danger, while the main character’s story is more or less wrapped up, but her love interest’s is at a low point...? (I really really loved this concept ngl)

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Yes! “Craziest” is probably the very short MCU/RTAH thing I did, but the one I’m most proud of is definitely the SG-1/Critical Role fic (Pike and Grog meeting the SG-1 team!)

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I tend to receive more generalized anon hate on tumblr, but I’ve gotten a couple questionable comments before. Which I only recall vaguely because I went ahead and pretty much deleted immediately, so I can’t even say what they were about in hindsight. So I guess deleting them worked to delete them from my brain? :’)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep! All kinds, kinky shit, whatever I’m in the mood for or is fascinating to me. I’m super into a/b/o and d/s stuff, in particular. I’ve got a heat!fic I’m nearly done with that’ll go up soon, and a roleplay cop/arrested scene that’s about halfway done. Kink negotiations are also always fun ngl

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of! But I’ve had a fic “inspire” another very closely before where in hindsight, I kinda wish I’d reacted more strongly, but I didn’t want to offend, and there were differences, it wasn’t straight up plagiarism? Idk that’s always a hard case in fandom.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! With the lovely @itskaysno <3 And I’m pretty much always down for collabs! ...if I have the time lol. There’s been a couple writers I was planning to work together with, but then we moved on to different fandoms or life didn’t sync up for long enough to work it out sadly </3

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Right now, I’m stuck in Weilan hell and not leaving, because it’s cozy and warm down here, okay.

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That would be Yu-Gi-Oh! My very first fics were in German on animexx way back when. I started in YGO! roleplay forums, and then wanted a story to continue where my RP partner dropped out, so I rewrote the whole thing

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I’m really proud of how Dark Stars, Burning Hearts turned out ngl

and it’s probably cheating if it’s a WIP, but I have great hopes for the Arranged Marriage AU and I’m living for the bits I’ve already written 👀 this is how the war is won is also up there, and I’m looking forward to finishing it (hopefully soon) so I can share!

*takes a deep breath* *rubs hands* Alright! Tagging @itskaysno @ganglylimbs @shadeofazmeinya @sorcererinslytherin @sailorbryant @kahnah23 @midwintersong @fornhaus @elenothar @sasamelons @bird-armadda @buriedbybooks @uy8hg @ishipallthings and anyone else who wants to play!

#ingno writes #wip games #fic games #tag you're it!#I really need to sit down with Blood Alone Remains and take it apart again #I think I could probably do quite an original story based on that premise #I just need to figure out more politics world building to make it work lol #(and it needs more words #which tbf I was on a time limit and had a lot more I wanted to do with it)

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jamkookies · 4 years

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𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐚. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤. ♡

𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒂'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒅. 𝑬𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑱𝒐𝒋𝒐. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆, 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒌𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆? 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚.

Pairing: OC X Barista!Jungkook

Contains: humor, mutual pining, fluff, cuddles, vine references, hurt and comfort, sexual tension.

Warnings: swear words, angst, dark themes, anorexia, mentions of self-harm, starvation, binge eating.

Word count: 30k+ (don’t ask)

A/N: I spent almost a year working on this, during which time I went on and off from writing. It’s finally here and my excitement is through the roof. Special thanks to @keopitae for sharing her thoughts on the fic and for her continuous support. Eli out.

____________________________

"My name is Jojo and I suffer from an eating disorder."

The words echo across the small bathroom walls, crashing against the mirror I so passionately detested. Punching the mirror as hard as I can, blossoming cracks scatter in every direction. The pain in my right knuckle screams, blood already oozing out of the peeled skin.

Fucking cringe. What was all this for? Was there a camera up my ass for acting all dramatic and shit?

"Good job, Jojo, you just ruined another one." I sigh and let the running water wash the blood off my hand. This was the third time this month and honestly, I think I deserved a slap across the face for the amount of money I was spending on fucking mirrors.

Heh.

That made it sound like mirror prostitution.

I grab a bandage from the stack I kept on the drawers and wrap it around my injury. Talking to your reflection first thing in the morning wasn't exactly the best way to start off the day, but it had been a mere attempt at self-therapy. Well, since I can't go to a real one, anyway. Too bad it didn't work.

I sigh one more time for good measure and pull a hoodie over my head.

Ah yes, a hoodie. The ultimate piece of clothing.

Feeling cold? Wear a hoodie. Your bra is cutting your blood circulation and you can't keep it on anymore? Wear a hoodie. You feel self-conscious of your body and try to hide every curve and shape? Hoodie is your best friend.

I put on a pair of sweats to complete the look because let's be real; everyone loves a baggy outfit. Not even sparing a glance at the mirror anymore, I unplug the charger from my phone's ass and sit down for a second to scroll through some memes.

Yup.

That's exactly what a person does after losing their job.But come on, I mean who fires someone just because they went to take a piss? Yes, it took fifteen minutes and yes, I was in the middle of working, but my dude, I drink three bottles of water a day. I need to let it out somewhere.

I take a deep breath as if to clear the disarrayed thoughts in my head. As much as I tried to make it sound funny, it wouldn't work because, at the end of the month, the rent wouldn't pay itself. Living on your own had its pros and cons and up till now, if I was completely honest, I had only seen the bad side of it.

Supporting my hands on the sofa, I try to stand on my feet but almost flop back down. Every time I get up, black spots dance across my vision. I can even see whole galaxies and not in the pretty sense of the word. One time I think I witnessed the glory of the Milky Way itself.

The pills that are strewn across the floor remind me of the impulsive decision I'd decided to make last night so I collect them one by one and put them back in the bottle.

Maybe some other time, I think to myself. Another day.

I'm perfectly fine, after all. I did lose my job yesterday and now I'm hanging on a thread for dear life but it's fine. I can make this work. A small green apple on the counter is the only promise of a so-called decent breakfast.

"Well hello there, little guy," I say before sinking my teeth into the juicy flesh of the innocent fruit.The apple doesn't respond.I take my phone out of my pocket and tap on the Notes app.

52 calories are way too fucking much for an apple, I think to myself as I aggressively type the number down.This was about the only positive side of this disease. I was more educated on the nutritional values of food than a real dietitian.

This was how it all had started in the first place — from wanting to make healthier choices to cutting on particular groups of food. Just a slight change. Nothing too alarming. But then, I had to know what I was eating, right? So I start counting.

And that's how it all went to shit.

After I finish eating the apple and throw its core into the almost empty trash can, I wash it down with a tall glass of water. At last, my animalistic hunger was sedated and I could finally move on with my life. Indeed.

I grab my keys and shut the door behind me, wanting to go out for a while, maybe clear my head a little bit. It's not like I had to feed my kids or anything. There was nothing holding me back. So, I exit the apartment building, my keys clinking in my right pocket, and I hop on my beloved bike, parked right on the corner of the street. Did I have any idea where I was going? No. Was that going to stop me from strolling around like I didn't have a pile of shit waiting to be dealt with? Hell no.

I start pedaling like crazy from the moment I put some distance between my apartment and the main street. Maybe it was because I needed to let off some steam, maybe the amount of calories I would burn excited me. Either way, that doesn't justify the high pitched scream coming from a girl that I almost run over.

I skid to a stop, the hands on the brakes stopping me from a fatal mistake. The girl's face has gone pale and one of her hands is clutching at her chest, terrified.I notice the way her flawless make-up matches her porcelain foundation, the fitted jeans hugging her slim legs like a second skin, and I feel sick.Sick for the fact that I'd almost killed this girl and all I could think about was how skinnier than me she actually was.

"Watch where you're going, fatass!"

Scratch that.

The Regina George flashback turns it all around.This bitch was going down.

I throw the bike aside in the middle of heavy traffic and shoot daggers from my eyes at her ridiculously perfect form. Any shred of remorse I'd felt up till now dissipates like a wisp of smoke on the wind."The fuck did you just say?"

She flinches from the humorless tone of my voice and I can see from the way her eyes widen that she's starting to regret her poor choice of words.

"I–"

Before I can blink, she's out of my sight, scurrying away like a frightened little mouse and I can't help but huff an incredulous laugh right there in the middle of the street. A car honks loudly behind my back and I don't hesitate to flip the guy off, the hint of a smile still lingering on my lips.

I wasn't taking any shits from people today.

So I hop on the bike once more and round a corner in search of a place to cool down a little bit. My eyes roam over the long line of stores and shops decorating both sides of the road in a flourished aesthetic and pause on the frame of a particular coffee shop, the strong flavorful smell inviting to my senses. I don't have to think twice before leaving my bike on the sidewalk and entering the shop with curious steps, scanning the interiors in a quick once-over. I sit by the window since it faces the street and make myself comfortable enough to attract a few pair of judging eyes.

A woman seated on a table close-by looks at me disapprovingly, staring at my clothes for a little longer than needed. She was probably wondering why was a tomboy wannabe man-spreading with an arm thrown across the chair like she owned the place.

Look, ma'am. It's the twenty-first century. No one gives a shit about girl mannerisms anymore.

"Didn't anyone tell you staring is rude?" I say, not bothering to make myself look somewhat presentable. She looks appalled by the bluntness of my words, probably not used to being called out so straight-forwardly but it seemed to have worked as she just turns her head on the other side, pretending to not have heard anything.

That's what I thought.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and scroll down mindlessly. A distraction more than anything. But I don't even get the luxury of having a moment's peace when a pair of black stomper shoes slow down to a stop down my line of vision. I raise my eyes deliberately, following the two long legs protruding from them that connect with a bulky chest till I finally reach the top.

A boy.

No, a man.

Well, a mix of both.

His well-built figure screams "I've never skipped a day at the gym", the veiny muscles tight against the black shirt he's wearing. A swirling black tattoo makes an appearance on the side of his neck, disappearing inside the collar of his shirt, peeking again at his biceps and then snaking its way down his arm. There are multiple piercings on both of his ears, the silvery dangling pieces curtained by a mass of black messy hair reaching past his cheekbones and falling in front of his eyes carelessly.

Those eyes...

His whole physique resembled that of a fully grown man but his eyes were the ones who gave him away. Big and round and boyish.

I wasn't sure why I had spent more than a minute ogling at a stranger coming up to my table. Maybe it was the dark, mysterious aura radiating off of him or the way he was looking at me expectantly. Still, this motherfucker was too handsome for his own good. And he still stays right in front of me, unmoving, waiting for something.

"Are you lost, child?" I ask, looking at him dead in the eye.

He scoffs, clearly offended. "Child?"

"Your fly's down." I deadpan.

Unfortunately for him, his eyes slightly dip down to the front of his pants.

"Ha! I made you look!" I proclaim, a spark of amusement making the corners of my lips upturn.

He, on the other hand, doesn't look so happy, his curled up fists shaking by his sides, trying to keep himself in control."Can I take your order?" he grits the polite words through his teeth, even though he looks like he's about to strangle me from any second now.

"You're the waiter? Where's your uniform?"

"I don't have it with me." The boy's expression has turned angry, irritated even by the consistency of my questions.I decide to take it down a notch or two for the sake of the bulging vein on his throat, threatening to pop off. "Kay, chill. I was just asking."I lean closer and put my elbow on the table. " Soo...You come here often?"

It's his turn to deadpan. "I work here."

"Whoops. Silly me, I forgot."

"Are you gonna order or not?" He can't help the slight raise of his voice, more than enough proof that his patience was wearing thin.

Uh oh. Hoe's mad.

I throw a leg across my knee in the most arrogant way possible and lean back on the chair. "Aren't you gonna write it down somewhere?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.

"I can remember it." he simply answers.

Fine then, pretty boy. Let's see how you remember this.

"I'll have a quad long shot grande in a venti cup, half calf, double cupped, no sleeve, salted caramel mocha latte with two pumps of vanilla."

Oh, I've definitely made him mad now.

With a look of pure hatred on his face, he clenches his jaws together and stomps off in the opposite direction with God knows how much memory of the order in his head but before he can go further, I shout for him to stop. I was starting to feel bad for the boy with the long hair flying behind him dramatically. Not to mention, there was no way in hell I'd let that much sugar enter my body.

"Wait!"

He pauses and slowly turns around."I changed my mind. Just a cup of dark coffee will do. No sugar."

Surprisingly, a subtle smirk creeps its way on his lips, throwing a whole new light to his features. "Aren't you gonna tell me to make sure it's darker than your soul?"

Hmph. The little puppy can bite back, after all.

"Nah, that's overused," I say. His eyes scan me from head to toe and then he pivots on his heel, disappearing behind the multiple tools of the counter, probably communicating the order to someone else. It doesn't take long for him to come back once again, his long elegant hand gently picking up the cup of coffee from the tray and putting it on the table.

In that fleeting moment I can make out a messy layout of tattoos; a smiley emoji on his middle finger, four small crosses in the spaces between and a bunch of other symbols I don't recognize. All that, gracefully completed by a gorgeous black flower and a bunch of other patterns wrapped around his forearm.

How contrasting it was, the way his appearance clashed with his personality. Did I actually know him? I think so.The guy was obviously kind enough not to spill the thing all over my clothes in an act of rebellion and I had to say it was an admirable thing to do considering how far I was pushing his limits. I am almost ready to hold out the olive branch to him.

Almost.

"I thought I said no sugar," I say, noticing the small white pack by the side of the cup."I guessed you would probably change your mind again." he teases, but the displeasure is still quite evident on his face.

Interesting.

"Next time, just make sure to do what I say." I retort, very much aware that I was prolonging the situation more than needed, but I just couldn't help it. I was really enjoying the reactions I got from him every time I pushed his buttons.

He's practically fuming with anger but still doesn't fall prey to my relentless attacks, instead choosing to walk away like a civilian.

Pity. I wish he'd stayed a little longer.

The coffee is absolutely disgusting. Its bitter aftertaste almost makes me gag.

This is what happens when you refuse to add sugar to any kind of drink, Jojo. It basically tastes like shit.

I forcefully down the last gulps and rise from my table, leaving a tip for the emo kid even though I'm running low on money. He deserved it after putting up with my bullshit for that long.

The woman staring at me earlier goes wide-eyed when I lift two fingers to the side of my brow, offering her a salute before making my way out of the coffee shop.

I don't eat lunch that day. Not even dinner. I just stare at the black screen of the turned-off TV, sipping water from my mug like it's the most flavorful thing in the universe and not having the energy to even cry myself to sleep anymore. I do that every night. Cry and cry and cry like there's no tomorrow. It feels relieving somehow— like I've let something off my chest, even though momentarily.

I grab my phone and type down the stupid number anyway.

2 calories. I write 2 calories for a fucking cup of coffee like it's gonna make a shit ton of difference.

Fucking ridiculous.

I want to sink deeper into this misery, let it consume me whole till there's nothing left, but like a beacon of light, the image of that boy's face emerges into the surface.

"That guy was cute." I voice the words that have been on my mind all day before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

There she was. That girl again.

In all my three years of working here, I'd never encountered someone so rude, shameless and utterly irritating. She's sitting on the same spot from yesterday, looking out the window and throwing casual glances at her phone. She also has the same baggy hoodie and sweats, probably too lazy to even bother change into something else.

However, what attracts my attention is the bandage wrapped around her hand, a pink hue visible where her knuckles should be. I'd noticed it the first day too, wondering where in the world would she get that kind of wound. She did seem like the type of girl who would get into fights actually, judging from her boyish clothes and brash personality but I wasn't sure if–

Whatever.

It was none of my business and I had work to do, anyway. I couldn't be bothered with the antics of a rebellious teenage girl. The glass I'm wiping almost slips out of my hands. Bold of her to call me a child when she couldn't be more than five feet tall. I wondered if her feet even reached the pedals of her bike.

"Hey Jungkook, you got a customer." Kwan's voice shakes me out of my thoughtful state as he flicks his chin towards the girl.

"Can't you get this one for me?" I grimace."Why? Are you afraid she's gonna bite?"

"Seems like it."

His eyes narrow into slits as he glares at me suspiciously.

"Come on man, just do what I say for once," I insist, not really wanting to deal with her shit for a second time. Kwan raises his palms up in surrender and goes to take the girl's order, but not without mumbling a "kids these days" on his way out.

The girl looks up from her phone upon Kwan's arrival but then her eyes quickly roam around as if searching for something. They exchange a few words too quietly for me to hear amid the general bustle of the shop, and then my coworker is by my side before I can blink.

"Nothing to be scared of, Jeon. She just asked for a green tea," Kwan says and grabs a number of items from the counter.

"So, she didn't say anything rude?"

"Nope."

"Not even an insult?"

Kwan tsks with his tongue.

Hmph.

Maybe she just hadn't been in the mood yesterday because there's definitely something different about the way she's just sitting there–

Barbecue sauce on her ti—

A snort accidentally escapes from my lips and I lower my head further to hide the embarrassment of the uninvited thought.

"Something funny?" Kwan asks, looking up from the tea he was brewing. I click my tongue just as he'd done.

It takes about a minute or so until the order's ready and I note the way the girl's face contorts with each sip of her tea as if someone had actually put a gun to her head to drink that horrendous beverage. She still drains the cup to its dregs, though.

Gets up.

Sways a little.

The hand wrapped in bandages holds onto the table for support and she finally pushes herself up to her feet. A little light-headed, if you ask me.

That confident image I'd created of her yesterday, crumbles into pieces when I observe the vulnerable state she's currently in. I wasn't sure why I was paying much attention to a complete stranger who I would probably never meet again, but I just couldn't stop myself. It was like being pulled into a black hole and finding yourself secretly enjoying it even though your gut tells you that it's wrong.

It was weird but true.I'd experienced it before.

The brief moment of realization had been enough to make me get lost in my thoughts so I snap my eyes back to the girl's table only to notice that the seat was empty.

She'd left.

~JOJO ~

Discipline. I need to practice discip–

Fuck. Is that a hamburger?

The delicious treat from the glass showcase of a fast-food restaurant winks at me and my mouth waters just by looking at it. When was the last time I ate anything decent? I rack my brains out, calculating the number of calories I'd consumed for the last two days and the only results are an apple, a cup of black coffee, green tea and maybe a tank of water.

Wait!

I did lick that spoon of peanut butter this morning, so in total, 144 calories. Might as well call it a fast for all I care.

My breath quickens with every push of the pedal, thighs burning with the strain. It's been almost three hours since I left the coffee shop and I'm pretty sure the tires of my bike must be deflated from going through every damn corner of the city.

Why would I do that? Because I'm a stupid ass bitch who likes to push herself to her limits and who doesn't know what rest means.

I know I'm going too far. I know it won't be long before all of this comes crashing down on me, sending my progress back to the starting point, but I can't seem to stop. Not when the ecstasy is so overwhelming, filling me up with a fake sense of achievement. This was probably the reason why this disorder was addicting. It made you feel like you had the reins in your hands, not it.

Not her.

Oh, Ana. How much I wanna fucking kill you right now.

It was all her fault, after all.

No. It wasn't her fault. It was the people's fault.They were the ones that said things. Things that hurt me. And their words didn't affect me directly but they fed my insecurities.

It was confusing, actually.They said I was fat. I tried and built some muscle by working out.They said I looked too manly with my muscles now. It didn't suit me.I dropped ten pounds starving myself.

What did they want?

What was the right body?

I didn't know anymore.There would always be something not right, not good enough.

I grip the handlebar tighter when the flood of old memories engulfs me without warning, making its appearance like an uninvited guest. I'm not even sure how it all started in the first place because believe it or not, I was the biggest body-positivity enthusiast.

And then suddenly I wasn't.

And then I find out that there's a whole community out there with people just like me but so radical, so different from anything I'd ever seen before. At first, I was outraged, disgusted even, by the naive statements of young girls saying they wanted the thinnest body possible, fantasizing about skin and bones, but as time went by and as I delved deeper and deeper into the swirling vortex of these intoxicating thoughts, I started succumbing to them. They suddenly seemed appealing.

I let out a sigh between heavy breaths.

Did it matter now? Besides, that guy didn't even show up today. Maybe it's his day off or something.

The brilliant rays of the afternoon sun make the glass panes of the cars passing by gleam like a swarm of fireflies.It would've looked pretty if it weren't for the way it made me shield my eyes. I was already having a hard time trying to keep them open as my strength started to run out, the view in front of me doing half–circles and then turning back to its optimal position. My legs feel like lead and I stop pedaling altogether, letting my bike guide me instead.

Tired.

So, so...tired.

A familiar face swims into my line of vision. It's the emo kid.

And he's....falling?

The handlebar spirals out of my control and my knee hits hard concrete. That face is the last thing I see before a black cloak of darkness swallows me whole

~JUNGKOOK~

Never in a million years would I have thought I'd have to carry a random person to the nearest hospital on my way home. Yet here I am, sitting on a chair for the past hour, staring at the girl's chest rise and fall with slow, rhythmic breaths.

There are fresh bandages wrapped around her scraped knee and multiple bruises all over her body. I'd seen the slightest look of surprise cross her face before her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell off the bike, hitting her head in the process. It had been a chaotic situation, that one. People had kept gathering around, trying to sneak a peek at the accident but still not doing anything to actually help. So I'd taken things to my own hands, done my duty as a normal person would.

Then why are you still here, Jungkook? my logic reasons with me. The doctor said she would be fine so why are you still sitting over here, waiting for her to wake up?

That's right. I should be going.I lean my palms on my knees but before I can fully rise from the chair, the girl's eyes crack open. She takes a look around the room, analyzing her surroundings, and then her eyes stop on my face.

"Who the fuck are you?" she croaks.

Here we go again... I internally sigh."We met at the coffee shop. Or don't you remember?" I answer, praying for her life not to get my anger rise so fast.

"Right," she says, even though something tells me she had known exactly who I was in the first place. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"I saved your life."

"Why bother?"

"You should be grateful, you know."

"Did I ever ask for your fucking help?"

I had to admit I was slightly taken aback. The girl swore and cursed worse than a sailor. As if on cue, a jumble of profanities spill from her lips as she struggles to sit up, suddenly finding herself tangled in tubes and needles trickling colorless liquid into her veins.

"Get this shit off of me, " she says and rips the said piece from the inside of her forearm.

"You should keep that for a little longer." I protest, hands already reaching for the needle laying on the sheets but she flinches from my touch and throws a leg across the bed, attempting to get up.

"Sit down!" I say a little harsher than I intended but it was impossible not to.

Unbelievable.

Her nonchalance and irresponsible behavior made me want to punch her in the face, regardless of her being a girl. At last, she has the dignity to actually do what she's told. "Someone's cranky, " she mumbles as she leans back on the pillow.

This girl must have a split personality disorder because only two seconds later her legs are crossed comfortably despite the nasty injury on her knee and she's leaning forward with her cheek on her palm, staring intently at me with a curious smile hanging on her lips.

"You never told me your name, " she says.

"You never asked, " I reply.

She scowls. "Stop trying to play the smartass with me, child and just tell me your fucking name."

"It's Jungkook."

Her eyebrows lift in surprise.

"I know, it rolls off your tongue, doesn't it?" I tease.

"Actually, it sounds like a chicken dying, but okay."

My lips twitch in amusement, trying to suppress the silly smile demanding to make an appearance.

"To be honest, I'm kinda disappointed, " she continues. "I was expecting something more special, like Sebastian or Gabriel or something." She scratches her chin while her eyes still stay rooted on my face. "You know what, imma call you Juan. Yeah, Juan's better. Got that Latino vibe to it."

Her never-ending shenanigans were pure torture so I decide to turn the tables for a change. "And what is your name?" I ask.

For once, she doesn't try to make fun of me. "Jojo."

Cute.

"It fits you."

Her eyebrows scrunch themselves together as she carefully observes me. "Hmmm....Anyway–" She crawls to the side of the bed and grimaces when her left foot leans on the floor. "Thanks for spending your precious time with me, Juan but now I gotta blast."

"Miss, I'm gonna have to ask you to sit down, please," another voice is heard and the doctor I'd talked to earlier steps into the room. He stares the girl, Jojo I remind myself, down but she doesn't relent, staring right back with the same intensity.

"I'm perfectly fine—"

"Your blood sugar levels are at their lowest point, that wound on your knee needs to be changed continuously or else you'll get an infection and you might have a concussion from the way you hit your head. I'm surprised you're still even talking."

There's a slight tremor in her pupils, which I 'm pretty sure is caused by the panicked state she's trying to hide. She plasters a smile on her face. "Come on now, Doc. I'm sure you can let me off this one time. The fact that I'm still talking proves I'm better, right?"

"Miss—"

"I'll accompany her, " I blurt without thinking and both of them snap their heads in my direction. No turning back now. "I'll make sure she gets home safely," I assure him.

"I don't need your—" Jojo starts, but her words falter when she meets the doctor's glare. "I mean... sure, why not?"

The doctor seems satisfied enough as he turns on his heel without a moment's hesitation. However, he hasn't even made it past the threshold when he pauses, turns halfway around and looks at her dead in the eye. "And by the way, miss. You should eat something. Your heart's gonna fail at this rate."

I could have sworn I saw something flash behind her eyes but she doesn't show it, choosing to keep that sad smile on her face like an anchor linking her to sanity.

"Son of a bitch." I hear her mumble under her breath.

~JOJO~

Son of a bitch I repeat in my head over and over again till the words start to sound foreign to my ears, suddenly losing their meaning.

That damn doctor just had to point out the fact that I hadn't eaten anything for the last couple of days. He was right, of course, but that didn't stop me from mentally sending a series of curses his way.

I have never felt so shitty in my life. Both physically and mentally. My head feels like it's going to split in half, the stinging of the wound on my knee is crying like a bitch and there's not an ounce of strength left in me.

Powerless.

And if that wasn't enough, Juan's endless questions only add to my misery.

"For the last time, no, I don't live with my parents," I say for what felt like the gazillionth time, still refusing the hand he kept offering my way. I might be on the verge of collapsing but under no circumstances was I to let myself be held like a damsel in distress.

Nuh-uh.That's a line you can't cross, mister.

"That sounds kinda hard to believe," Juan says and sticks his rejected hand back in his pocket, probably to get rid of the awkwardness.

"Bitch, I don't need your approval to say something. If you don't want to believe me, fine. Suit yourself. "

His shiny black hair glints in the darkness, catching the beams of moonlight as he flicks it away from his face. "How can I be a bitch? I'm a male." he retorts.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Man whore." I reply, putting a clear emphasis on the last syllable.

He scowls, seeming genuinely offended by my words, especially when he says " Swearing is rude, you know."

"You know what else is rude? Asking people too many questions."

"But can you blame me, though? I mean you pretty much look like a high-schooler who ran away from home."

I stop dead in my tracks. "You have a strong sense of guessing."

He blinks. "Wait. You're really a high-schooler who ran away from home?"

I resume my walking, using the concrete wall on the side of the road for support. "For your information, I did finish high-school so suck on that."

"But you still ran away from home, right?" he insists.

"Oh for fuck's sake— yes, I did run away from home. Are you happy now?"

The blank look on his face, combined with the slight shrug of his shoulders almost causes me to snort. "Cool, " he says, unbothered."Aren't you gonna ask why I did it?"

"Not interested, " he states and looks straight ahead, completely ignoring my presence."Liar. I can see that you're one of those assholes who are dead-curious about everything."

"Am not!" he whirls on me.

I scrunch my nose and sniff the air around me like a wild dog hunting on its prey. "You smell that?" I ask him.

"What?"

"Smells like bullshit to me."

Even in the darkness, I can see the dramatic roll of his eyes, causing their whites to stand out. He had pretty big eyes, this guy. They softened that edgy aura he gave off, all muscles, tattoos, and black clothes. And the fact that he tolerated my irritating behavior, which I was deeply aware of, made him look even more appealing to my eyes.

"Why did you volunteer to take me home, Juan?" I quietly ask, glancing at him through the corner of my vision.

He seems to mull the question over in his head for a moment, eyes staring his shoes down. "I don't know. You seemed like you needed some help." He throws a look at me. "Which by the way, is still valid. You look like hell."

For some reason, that makes me retract my hands from the wall and I try to keep myself stable on my own two feet, limping heavily on the process.

"What exactly happened with your bike?" he continues, unaware of my recent action.

"I was busy stalking hot guys all day, so my bike got tired. Guess she just couldn't handle it anymore."

The boy doesn't seem to fall for any of my lies, narrowing his eyes till their nothing but slits. "Do you tend to not eat when you stalk hot guys?"

This little shit...

"Nah, it's just that I'm so fucking forgetful." I immediately reply. "I forget to eat all the time.

"He doesn't relent, still boring holes into my eyes.

"Hey, what's with all the questions, anyway? I thought you said you were not interested?" I repeat his own words.

"Right, " he admits.

My apartment building comes into view, the looming structure now as familiar as the back of my hand. "We're here, " I announce. My eyebrows raise in wonder as his legs keep heading for the entrance of the building instead of pausing.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To your apartment, obviously."

"What the fuck makes you think you can come to my apartment, boy?" I did not want him to see anything personal of mine, yet for some strange reason, I found myself hoping he would stick around a little longer. A little controversial, considering the fact that my words proved otherwise, but I couldn't just say that to him, could I? Like, hey, kid you're nice. Let's have a little chat before you go.

Ridiculous.

"I'll just escort you to the door, " he assures.

"No need for that."

"But what if you fall down the stairs?" he insists.

"You got me there." I punch in the code at the main entrance and hurry up the stairs as much as my limp would let me, Jungkook's eyes never leaving me for a second. After what felt like an eternity, I grunt heavily and lean on the doorstep of my humble apartment. "Okay, you've done your service, soldier. You're free to go now."

Jungkook throws a quick glance at my mustard-colored door, probably weirded out by it but then his eyes flick to my empty hands. "Where's your keys?" he wonders.

My mouth gapes open and my eyes go the size of tennis balls as I frantically pat my pockets. When I notice the way Jungkook's lips part slightly, I burst into hysterical laughter, jiggling the retrieved keys in front of his face. "You should've seen your face!" I laugh. "Hilarious."

He exhales, relieved. "I thought you'd lost them."

"Nah, Juan. I forget a lot of things but not my keys. Besides, these bitches stick up my ass like fucking glue."

The door's lock clicks with a flick of my wrist but I resist the usual temptation of kicking it wide open, in fear of letting emo-kid sneak a peek. It's not like I was embarrassed of the mess in my apartment or anything like that but it felt weirdly intimate to let someone else get a glimpse of my domestic life. In fact, I hadn't invited anyone over since...

Yes, it had been that long.

Jungkook notices my reluctance and clears his throat. "So...um...you're all good now, so I better leave. You should–you should take care of your wound."

How weird to see an overgrown, muscular dude stutter and not know what to do with his hands. I usually didn't have the tendency of stereotyping but this definitely struck me as odd.

I smirk. "Getting shy, Juan?"

He almost flinches at my words. " What? No!"

"Are you waiting for a thanks then?"

A stray hair falls in front of his eyes but he doesn't move it away from his face. "That's not something you ask from people."

I bite my tongue and try not to let the pain on my leg get to me as I squeeze into the room through a thin sliver of space. Still, his words bring a smile to my face and as much as I try to suppress it, it just keeps floating on the surface again. "I'm not an asshole, Juan. So thanks."

"Actually, you refused to say thanks from the start—"

"Okay, now you ruined it," I interrupt. "Get outta here."

He slowly starts to back off and his lips stretch into a barely contained smile. "Good night, Jojo." And then just like that, he's climbing down the stairs with his long legs taking two or three steps at a time.

I shut the door and lean on it for a moment, sighing deeply through my nose.

"Little shit, " I whisper.

Rise and shine.

That's exactly what my alarm tune doesn't say. Even after so much time hearing it pierce my ears every single morning with its shrill screech, I can never stop myself from wanting to smash the damn thing into pieces. However, that's the only thing that can actually get my ass up from the bed. All the other gentle-sounding melodies had proven to be absolute failures, dragging me even further into the sweet crevices of sleep.

The numerous late arrivals to work had made me suffer more shouts and scoldings than I could remember from my boss. The guy was a total dick. Good thing I don't work there anymore.

My room is still coated in patches of darkness here and there, the bright rays of the morning sun nowhere to be seen. It is about 5:30, an unholy time to wake up, but since I was now unemployed, I had made an oath to force myself every day into going for a run outside.

There was no overwhelming hustle and bustle, no moving crowds of people. The city had yet to rise from its slumber and the only activity on sight included slow, quiet movements of passers-by.

I finally kick the blanket off and swing my legs over the bed. The cold surface of the floor awakens my senses as I prepare to go over the usual ritual: Stretch, pee, step on the scale.

The number has slightly changed from yesterday but not to the point where I want it to. A wave of disappointment washes over me. It happens every day yet I can never get used to it.

I decide to go easy on the breakfast. A cold glass of water, an apple, and a boiled egg.

I probably should've thought about putting some pants on first, I say to myself as a crumb of egg yolk smears my bare thigh. I use the pad of my finger to wipe it off and cringe intensely. These thick bitches turned three sizes wider when sitting down and it only spurred on my body dysmorphia.

Disgusting.

Not forgetting about my daily dose of green tea, I hurry up before the sun rises and put some sports clothes on, which wasn't really that hard since they were the only thing in my closet. I shut the door behind me but it feels like something is nagging the back of my mind, demanding my attention.

Did I forget anything?

I rack my brains out in search of a clue but nothing makes it into the surface.

This stupid obsession...

Making sure my shoelaces are tightly secured and my earphones plugged in, I climb down the stairs and burst out of the entrance of the building. I welcome the sharp sting of fresh air that fills my lungs with a deep breath and waste no time to sprint into a run, the loud music already blasting my ears in full force.The wound on my knee does not approve of this but I don't give two shits. It can cry like a bitch for all I care.

It's easy at first, obviously. Your body is rested and unspent so you relish those twenty minutes with pure adrenaline flowing through your veins. But then, the run takes its toll on you. It's unavoidable.

The sky switches from dark blue to a pastel pink, announcing the official start of the day and reminding me of my tiresome condition. I'm panting like an asthmatic by now and my clothes stick uncomfortably with sweat so I slow into a light jog. The sting on my knee grows stronger and stronger til I can barely stand it. The clean sidewalk grows hard under my feet and it's all I can do not to faint from exhaustion. Running tires you out? Try running with not enough food in your system.

I scan my surroundings in an attempt to distract myself from the fatigue. A few trees lining up the street, a grey car hurrying to God knows where, hair—

Wait, what?

I redirect my eyes to the spot I was staring at and notice a mop of dark hair swinging wildly. The body they belong to is in fast-motion, arms shifting from side to side as the legs make long, speeding strides.

No fucking way. I guess it's not such a bad day after all.

I smirk as I gain speed, now heading straight towards the boy with newfound strength. As I maneuver from side to side with a few random strangers, I can't help but stare at the way his sweatpants hug every curve of his butt. He had a nice butt, this guy. I'm kinda jealous. And as if that wasn't enough, the material of his loose T-shirt turns darker from the collar down to his back, marking a trail of sweat. He'd ran just as hard from what I could see.

The music in my earphones dies out as I quickly catch up to him and slip by his side, matching his constant rhythm. He doesn't notice at first, but after the numerous glances I throw from the corner of my eye, he finally flinches and stops abruptly. "Jojo?"

His hair is completely drenched in sweat. The dark strands form wet tendrils on his forehead and numerous trails that drip from his temples and down to his chin. He almost rips his earbuds off and I have to say I feel slightly endeared. As a person who preferred not to be disturbed while listening to music, I could appreciate the fact that he removed them in the blink of an eye. If a person does that, he respects you. Simple as that.

He gives me a look of mild curiosity, which for a surprise makes him look ten times hotter. I also slow down to a stop as a smile tugs at the edges of my lips. "Oh, hey Juan! Didn't see you there."

He looks behind his back for good measure and turns to stare at me. "Are you stalking me?"

I scoff in feigned annoyance. "What the fuck? Am I not allowed to go for a run now? Do you own these streets or something?"

"No, but—"

"Hey, hey, " I quickly interrupt him. "Less chatting, more running."

I will my feet to start moving again and he immediately catches up. "So...how are you feeling?"

"Tired, " I reply.

"I meant from last night."

Well that's a surprise. I didn't think he would remember it, let alone be worried about my condition. "Oh. I'm fine. It's nothing, really, " I wave a dismissive hand.

He stares at me for a moment too long before turning his head straight. "That's good."

After that, neither me nor him try to elaborate on the topic. For some moments, the only thing heard is our combined panting and heavy breathing and it doesn't do much to tame my wild brain from going places. I push the dirty thoughts aside for later reference and give my head a slight tilt to peek at him."Tell me more about yourself, Juan."

"What do you wanna know?" he asks without looking.

"Everything."

He laughs delightedly. "Ok but you're gonna have to ask me questions, though. I don't know where to start."

"Perfect. Where do you live?"

His neck does a ninety-degree turn with such a lightning speed that I'm scared he broke a bone or two. "I knew you were stalking me!" he exclaims as if he had made a scientific discovery.

I smack my lips impatiently. "Just answer the damn question!"

"Two blocks from here."

"That means the coffee shop is close to your house, right?"

"I live in an apartment, " he adds and gives a curt nod before his attention is back to me. "Okay, my turn now. Did you ever go to college?"

Not this shit again. If I hadn't been attracted to his ridiculously good looks, he would be rubbing at a sore spot in between his eyeballs. "Goodness, child. You really are stubborn."

"Hey, it's only fair if you keep asking me questions, " he protests and instead of angering me, the harmless expression turns my insides into jelly. I was finding it hard to keep up with the constant appearances of his duality. It was weird. I barely knew this guy and I still told him things so strictly personal that I'd never thought I'd say out loud.

" I dropped out of college after the first year. Couldn't afford it."

And just like that, the jolly, playful countenance disappears to be replaced by a darker one. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I dropped too, " he continues. " Guess studies weren't exactly my thing."

"Oh wow. We have so much in common."

A pause.

"Where's your family?"

I was starting to think this kid was more interested in my personal life than me as a person. "Back home."

He doesn't say anything, waiting for me to explain further and unfortunately, I fall prey to his puppy eyes staring at me intently. An uncomfortable ball of imaginary yarn settles at the base of my throat. I try to gulp it down while fighting to keep the slight tremble in my voice from showing. " They...did some things to me. Bad things. I'm never going back."

He notices my discomfort, bless his soul, and decides to drop it. "My parents live far from here and I don't visit them as much. So yeah, that sucks."

His poor attempt at sympathizing with me makes my lips crack into a subtle grin. "Are all parents bad or are we just awful teenagers?"

"Both, I guess, " he chuckles.

Just when I assume the twenty-one question game has finally come to an end, he proves me wrong for the bazillionth time. "Is there anyone you hang out, at least?"

"You, " I answer.

His eyes widen twice their original size and I laugh through my nose. "Just kidding. I have a friend called Anna. Such a nice, caring and sweet girl." My lips twitch on the side to impersonate a somber smile but I had the feeling it looked like I was having a nervous tick. "She's to die for."

Time is cruel to us, swallowing up each patch of daylight until the sky has turned into the purest baby blue and let the rays of sunlight fall astray into our poor backs. The heat and the exhaustion makes us slow our pace. Then, suddenly a sharp pain stabs me across my knee and I wince discreetly.

"Do you go to work?" Juan asks, oblivious to my current torture.

"No, I quit, " I say, refusing to admit that the reason for that hadn't really been my choice. "Why'd you ask?"

"Well, it's just that—" He abruptly stops and his eyes shift their attention to my legs, staring hard at them.

"What?"

"You're bleeding, " he states, matter of factly.

I snap my head down and take note of the way my knee is soaked in a dark red stain, slowly webbing its tendrils along the fabric."Aw shit, " I curse under my breath.

"You need to go to the hospital, " Jungkook quickly intervenes before a long string of profanities can spill over my lips.

"No. No more hospitals. I'll just go home and put some fresh bandages on it."

"Okay, well let me come with you."

I take a step back and shake my head from side to side. "For the last time, I don't need your help, Juan. Here are my key—" I frantically fish my pockets but they're completely empty, save for that stupid paper towel that I had somehow forgotten there. "Fuck no! Fuck no!"

Juan's brow bunches up in distress as his judging eyes give me a hard stare. "You already made that joke once."

"I'm not joking around, you idiot!" I snap, probably a bit too harsh but the panic seems to have gotten under my skin for me to care at this point. "I forgot my keys!"

So, that's what kept nagging me in the morning. I mentally slap myself for being such a careless mess and vow to not make the same mistake again.

"Let's go to the hospital, " Juan calmly repeats, seemingly unaffected by my sudden burst of anger. I wonder if he was hiding his hurt on the inside. If that was true, I'd have to give him a round of applause because he was sure doing a hell of a good job.

"No."

"Do you want to bleed to death?" This time he can't help the hint of anger from seeping into his voice.

I say nothing.

"If you don't want to go to the hospital then come with me back at my place. I have some bandages too."

"Absolutely not!" I protest, outraged. If this kept going on, we would end up at each other's throats.

"Look, it's either that or the hospital. You pick."

Shit. He had me cornered. Well, what was I to say? I liked hanging out with him but I also didn't want him to see me in such a vulnerable state and make me feel indebted to him. It had already happened once and I hadn't liked it not even one bit. "I can't just come at your place, " I say with a lilt of playfulness in my voice. My figure was already frayed at the edges and he was quick to catch sight of it. "What if you're a murdering psychopath in disguise?"

He smiles in earnest, as if I'd just told him he was the nicest guy on the planet. "Then you can always stab me with a kitchen knife."

This was wrong. This was so wrong. I couldn't just go to his house, dammit. I was letting my guard down way too much. No way I was doing this.

"Fine, " I finally surrender and wish I'd bitten my tongue in time before the word made it past my lips.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

By the time we get to my apartment, the sun has already reached its highest peak in the horizon and the powerfully bright rays start to make me feel a bit wobbly.

I had offered Jojo to at least hold on to me but she seemed hellbent on making it by herself. I could see how much the wound was hurting her, yet she refused to let any emotion whatsoever show on her face.

I open the door unceremoniously and pause to let her in first. She carefully shuffles her steps with a heavy limp weighing her down but I could see that she was still having second thoughts on whether to enter a complete stranger's apartment or not. As soon as she passes the threshold, I release a sigh I didn't realize I'd been holding.

Her head starts turning from side to side, scanning the interiors of the living room. I suddenly feel self-conscious. Is the place messy? Did I forget to put my socks on the laundry basket? I was worried she would shy away and leave altogether.

"Nice place you got here, " Jojo says with a whistle.

I unconsciously smile but it fades away the moment she plops down onto the couch, ignoring the still-fresh wound on her knee. She even has the audacity to swing her leg over the edge and let it dangle there. So much for shying away.

"I'll go get the bandages, " I announce and retreat into the bathroom, keeping an eye on her from the way back. She gives me a salute before going back to studying the walls with curious eyes.

I hurry up and lock myself up in the bathroom and immediately, the sight of my disheveled look greets me in the mirror. My hair is wild, some strands clinging with sweat onto my temples and some flailing in the air like unmowed grass. My skin glistens with a fine sheen of wetness that makes me itch with discomfort and there's a pink blush settled on my nose and cheekbones. Did I really look like this all morning?

I let the water of the faucet run under my hands and give my face a quick splash. Why am I so nervous, dammit? It's just a girl. I really need to get a hold of myself. The image of her face reminds me of the reason I came here in the first place. I hurriedly grab the bandages from the counter along with some alcohol, cotton pads and a towel.

I take a deep breath and return to the living room with a forced air of nonchalance. "I got the—" I announce but the words falter when I see the empty couch. Where the hell did she go?

"You have very good-looking parents. No wonder where you got the genes, " her voice is heard from the other side of the room and I see her standing by one of the shelves, examining the tiny picture of my mom and dad, smiling at each other while my older brother cuddles my dog's white fur.

"Uh..thanks, " I manage as I scratch my neck.

At this, she turns around and finally looks at me. "Nothing to be shy about, Juan. You're handsome. You don't need glasses to see that."

"I—"

"Alright, are you gonna give me those or not?" she questions with a sly smile, pointing her chin towards the items in my hands and I internally curse from the distraction. Oh, she really did enjoy toying around with me.

I prevent myself from stuttering another word and slowly approach her. She grabs the things from my hands and sits on the couch yet again. Her condition was no better than mine. A single drop of sweat slides from the side of her cheek and travels down her neck in an excruciating slow motion. Her complexion had turned ruddy and her hair stuck to her edges with perspiration. How she had managed to run so hard in that state was beyond me.

I silently hand her the towel first. "Dab your neck with this before you catch a cold."

She looks at me with a slight tilt of her head but accepts it nonetheless, mumbling a "dab on them haters" under her breath.

"What about you?" she asks aloud. "You're literally dripping." As if summoned, another drop of sweat free-falls from my chin and onto the floor.

"It's okay. I'll be fine, " I quickly reply.

"Well aren't you a tough cookie?" she giggles. "Get it? Tough? Kookie? Jungkookie?"

I almost snort. And as if that wasn't enough, the nickname she used made this weird sensation creep onto my stomach.

After she's done drying her skin, she crouches down to take a look at the wound that still kept trickling blood. Her careful fingers roll the dirtied bandage around her knee to reveal such a nasty sight, I almost gasp in surprise. The blood had smeared the skin around the edges and on its center there's a blackish liquid that looks like anything but blood.

"Oh shit, " she whispers, obviously not expecting the wound to be in such a degree. I move forward with worry in my trembling form but she's quick to stop me."No, it's okay. I got it."

"But it looks really ba-"

"Thanks Juan, but I said I can handle it."

I silently get back and let her do the work herself. She seemed so used to this process, as if she had done it countless of times before. Her hands are quick and agile, snatching the alcohol and cotton pads and then proceeding to wrap brand new bandages around her knee. Not a single hiss or whine falls from her lips. After she successfully finishes, she lifts her head to gift me a charming innocent smile. As if she hadn't just split her knee open. This girl...

After that, the room falls into an awkward silence so I keep looking everywhere else but her. "Do you want something to drink?" I offer.

"Once a waiter, always a waiter, " she sighs while scratching her forehead.

"Okay, what do you have?"

"Let me check," I announce and head to the fridge without another word. I examine the contents within and yell from across the room. "Um... coke?" "I don't do drugs, " she yells back.

"As in the drink, Jojo."

"Oh. What kind?"

"The regular one."

"No diet coke?"

"No. Sorry."

"Okay, just get me a glass of water."

I come back with the glass and hesitate a split second before handing it to her.

"I really like your place, Juan," she says after a tiny sip. "Its so....you."

A discouraged laugh escapes from me. "You don't even know me."

"Says who? I'm excellent at knowing people's personalities on first sight, " she continues after another sip.

"What about you then?" I suddenly ask.

"My place or my personality?"

"Both."

She considers it a moment before answering. "Well, both suck compared to you. Especially my apartment, Juan. You wouldn't believe the fucking mess I make all the time."

She sounded nonchalant about the matter but I could sense the discomfort behind the words. She was having it harder than she let on.

"What are you gonna do from now on?" I ask, careful not to sound intrusive. "You lost your job right? How are you gonna pay your rent?

She plasters a smile on her face. "I'll figure something out."

Before I can push it further with my vast myriad of questions, she rises from the couch and sets the glass on the table. " Well, I better go now. Thanks for the help, Juan. I'll see you around."

I watch with frozen limbs as she makes her way towards the door with that tilt on her step and wonder if I really was crazy after the next words I hear coming out of my mouth.

"Wait!"

She slowly turns around and gives me a curious look.

"I have a proposal, " I say before I can regret it.

She grins in response. "Thanks but I'm too young to get married."

"No, not that. I was wondering... I mean if you want to...." I've never felt more nervous in my life. My words keep stumbling into one another and I can barely keep the the inexplicable stutter out of my voice. "You can—you can work at the coffee shop with me. I can convince my boss to get you the job."

She smiles and pivots on her heel. " Yeah, right."

"Hey, I'm serious."

"Forget it, " she says without turning around.

"Why forget it? Aren't you struggling?"

For a moment it seems like I've caught her attention. She pauses in her steps and slowly turns around until she's completely facing me. There are no more hints of smiles or amusement. Just a blank expression that for some reason looks sadder than anything else. "I don't want your pity."

"Its not pity, " I protest. "We've been short of staff anyway and you need a job. It's a win-win for both of us."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out just as harshly. "Why are you doing this, Juan? The hospital and the bandages and everything... Why are you helping me?"

"I like helping people, " I simply reply.

"Some people don't like to be helped."

"Well, if you think that, you're an idiot!" I snap as a pinch of anger sneaks into my voice.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Look, " I continue. "I don't know if I've done something wrong or if you just don't like people in general. I was just trying to help. If you don't want it, the door's right there."

Okay, now I really fucked up. I'd never been so straight-forward to someone before but it was like her sharp jabs had forced the harsh words right out of my mouth. Sometimes, the frustration overwhelmed me to the point I couldn't tell right from wrong.

She's frozen in her spot, wide eyes staring at me in a mix of shock and wonder. But then, her eyes slowly drag along my body, giving me a once-over before setting on my face. Her lips crack into a lopsided grin that was anything but innocent. "I like you, Juan, " she says and heads for the door before pausing on the threshold. "And I'll think about your offer."

The door closes shut behind her and just like that, she's gone.

~ JOJO ~

There's no way I'm doing this, I say to myself as I take a hot shower. No fucking way, I repeat as I get dressed and tighten my shoelaces. I felt like a mere sheep heading to meet the butcher's axe. But the sheep was making this choice herself. She was willing.

I was afraid the boy had put a spell on me. I'd never been so weak-hearted and obedient to someone's requests. Here I was, going to that cursed coffee shop even after all the fights with Anna last night. She kept persuading me to stay inside, lock myself up in my room and not talk to anyone for the next week or so. She'd never been the social type, the bitch.

Most people said it was like a voice in your head urging you to do whatever it wanted, but that was not the case at all. If the concept of Ana was that unrealistic it wouldn't be so hard to label it as just another link into the shackles of mental disturbances but the thing was, there was that doubt that made you hesitate on whether these were actually your thoughts that made you behave this way or something actually real and tangible. The feeling of something not claiming its existence but still lingering like a shadow on your every step.Is it me or her?Who said that?

I shake my head violently to clear my thoughts as I find myself in front of the shop's entrance.The floor seems to wobble beneath my feet and I doubted whether it was just because of the fact that my stomach had crumpled in itself like a sheet of paper.

I clear my throat loudly to capture the attention of the man hunched on the counter.He slowly lifts his head as an automatic smile appears on his face. “Yes?"

I steady my posture. "I'm looking for someone named Jungkook. He works here."

His eyebrows almost touch his hairline but he's quick to recollect himself. "Oh, sure. He's in the back fixing some stuff. I'll go get him for you."

He disappears behind a door and comes back two seconds later with the reason of my sleepless nights by his side.

"You're here!" Jungkook exclaims, a little too loud for my liking. He seemed slightly surprised, as if he hadn't thought I would actually come. Couldn't blame the guy. There were times when traces of bipolarism would make it hard for people to understand what I actually meant.

Jungkook's open-lipped smile is almost contagious. He tramples his way forward and stops just an inch further, towering over me.The all-black outfit was present even today but this time an apron adorns his slim waist.

"I am, " I simply add.

"Oh, I almost forgot. This is Kwan, " he says as he gestures toward the smiley man. "We've been working together since I can remember."

I flick my eyes to the latter and nod a salute at him. "You should've called this place 'Juan and Kwan'. Quite catchy, if you ask me."

The man named Kwan chuckles. "She's funny. Where did you find her, Jungkook?"

"Oh, I'm the one who found him, " I intervene. "Besides, we've met before. I'm the green tea girl."

His eyes slightly widen with a sense of realization as he nods along. Ironically enough, my stomach whines so loudly to the point where even Jungkook hears it. He points a finger at it. "You really need to shut that thing up."

I look down to my stomach and talk to it as if it were a real person. "Hey thing, shut up. Juan doesn't like the way you sound."

"Did you even eat anything on the way here? There are some cupcakes if you want, " Jungkook insists with the tone of a concerned mother.

"I'm not hungry, Juan. Must be uhh... my seven month-old baby."

Jungkook shakes his head in surrender and asks for me to follow him behind the same room he came from. My nervousness raises tenfold as a bunch of unpleasant thoughts immediately rush into my brain. If I didn't get this job, I could say goodbye to normalcy. I would fall down the hole dug by my own hands and never come back out. All the hard work of these past months out in the trash.

"Don't worry, " Jungkook reassures. "You'll do great."

~ JUNGKOOK ~

She was bursting with joy. It was like her face had been washed in the late afternoon sunlight, illuminating its every corner. She wasn't ridiculously beautiful or anything like that but there was something so captivating about watching that smile brighten up her features like a glorious sunrise, I could barely keep myself from staring.

However, one thing I learned about her was that she really knew how to celebrate. Her hands are struggling to hold all the groceries she'd gotten at the supermarket. Well...if you could call them groceries. All I could see were tons of candies and deserts and all sorts of sugary stuff able to furnish a dozen sweet-toothed five year-olds.

But the thing that baffled me the most is that she'd invited me at her place to thank me for the new job. I thought after all the fights she'd put up to keep me far and away she wouldn't give in so easily. Guess I'd been wrong.

"I thought you said you weren't hungry. " I watch her chew on a chocolate-covered donut that gave me diabetes just by looking at it.

"If there's one thing you need to know about me, Juan, is that I change my mind way too often, " she mumbles in between mouthfuls.

"Yeah I can see that, " I add.

"Hey, shut up now, will you? We need to celebrate!"

"By eating trash?"

"They say you are what you eat, " she replies.

I angrily grab the grocery bags from her hands and let her lead the way to her apartment. "Don't call yourself that. "

The jokes she constantly jabbed could be hilarious to someone else but they just did not sit well with me. I only found them as extremely self-deprecating and dark. It was the go-to type of thing for the depressed and people were so used to normalizing them, it was hard to point it out from time to time.

Her mouth pauses chewing as she gives me a hard but harmless stare. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

"Do what?"

The deep sigh she lets out through her nose tickles my eyelashes. She stops in front of the door and leans her back on it. "You keep being nice even when I annoy you."

"You don't annoy me, " I say quietly.

"Yes I do. I annoy everyone." Another sigh. "You know, Juan, all my life I've been treated like a joke. Yeah, I joke around a lot so I'll get joked at. Understandable. But like, no one has treated me the way you do before. You listen to what I have to say and give me honest answers and most importantly, you are serious when you need to be."

"Isn't that how everyone is supposed to be?"

"No. If I told someone I'm feeling sad they'll laugh at my face 'cause they think I don't have the right to feel anything."

"Well, fuck them, " I snap.

Her jaw almost drops to the floor. "Woah! I've never heard you swear before. That was low-key hot. Do it again."

I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and fumble with the edge of my T-shirt. Out of all the things she could've said..."Um...shit?"

The disappointment washes over her face as she scoffs and shakes her head disapprovingly. "Fucking rookie".

It is quiet for a few moments, save for the slight creak of the yellow door opening wide enough to finally offer me a front seat view of her apartment. I'd been strangely curious about what it would look like, eager to get to know more about where she lived, where she slept, what things the was interested in and no matter the weird turn my thoughts had taken I couldn't help but crave for more.

She lets me pass the threshold and takes the grocery bags from me to put them on the kitchen counter. The place reeked of lemons, their acrid stench filling the air to the point where it made my nose itch. I spot a few loose skins and other remnants by the table.Except for that, everything looked pretty much normal. Plain and bare of excessive decorations but I could see that she'd made efforts into putting her own preferences out in the open, littering the walls and ceiling. She liked minimalism, I could see.

"Did you throw a lemonade party last night?" I ask with the tiniest bit of chuckle tumbling from my mouth.

Her eyes flick to the evidence and I sense something I'd never witnessed so boldly in them before. Panic. "Oh, t-that..." she nervously stutters but it's gone in a blink as she quickly gains her composure. "Just an experiment. I love science." I hum in agreement and eye the couch on my right. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, yeah sure. Make yourself at home. But I have to warn you there's nothing on the fridge so you're left with these, " she says, giving the sweet goodies a single heave.

"Oreos, please." I stretch my hand across and a huge grin pulls at the edges of her lips.

We spend the next few minutes sitting in silence, munching cavities away like they were our last meal. It was surprising to say that it did not for a moment feel weird nor awkward. We barely knew each other and yet we seemed like two old pals seeking comfort into each other's presence.

"My place sucks, doesn't it?" she suddenly asks.

"Not really, " I reply. "I think it's pretty."

A confused frown appears on her face as she keeps munching on a chocolate bar. "How come?"

"Well, beauty is subjective, Jojo. What looks pretty in my eyes may not be the same for you."

"Deep words for a teenager, " she mumbles.

"Look who's talking."

"Yeah, yeah..." She waves her hand dismissively but I don't miss the tiny smirk hidden in her cheeks.

The grocery bags start to slowly empty. I was worried she was gonna make herself sick with all the sugar already flowing in her body.

She suddenly gets up and stretches, reaching with the tips of her fingertips up to the ceiling. Her hoodie rides up and I almost gasp in surprise. There are several marks littering the thin stripe of exposed skin, some dark, some purple and some turning yellowish. They made such a stark contrast with the pale white complexion that didn't exactly match the tone of her face. She'd obviously never worn anything too revealing, the sun rays far from tanning the skin. Before I can gawk my eyes out, it's gone in an instant when the hoodie falls back in place.

"This shit's addicting, " she says pointing at the leftovers on the table.

I could only wonder if she really had more problems than she let on. From what I'd gathered, she'd subtly admitted to being a victim of domestic abuse but that was a long time ago, wasn't it? Why were there still fresh scars on her body? As if to add on to my assumption I take notice of her bandaged hand.

"Where's that friend you mentioned?" I ask. "Was it Annie...Ann?"

Her eyes flick back to mine. "You mean Anna? She's always here for some reason. I consider more like family, to be honest. Never leaves my side. Just not today."

There was something fishy about the way Jojo's eyes turned glassy and distant every time she mentioned her friend. It kept rubbing me the wrong way.

I ask her to use the restroom and she shows me the way in a few curt gestures. As soon as I get inside, I am met with my distorted reflection on the mirror. A huge web blossomed into the side. Someone had cracked it, that part was fairly obvious.

What the hell was wrong this girl?

I wash my hands mindlessly and return to the living room. Jojo sits on the couch, man-spreading like a fourty-year old man on his second divorce. She winces once or twice and exhales through her nose. " I think I ate too much, " she whines.

"You think?"

"It's all your fault. You're the one who convinced me to eat, " she accuses.

"Well, I certainly didn't tell you to eat junk." I join her on the couch from a fair distance as she sulks away the nausea.

"What happened to your mirror?" I softly ask.

"I punched it, " she answers without looking.

"Why?"

"There was a fly on it and it kept buzzing while I was taking a shit."

I didn't believe that for a second but I nod my head nonetheless. From that moment on, she only adds to the dark jokes and I pretend to fall for them. All until the moment I require permission to leave with the excuse of having to work again tomorrow.

I can't deny the sick, empty feeling at the pit of my stomach when I watch her follow me with her sad stare as I leave the apartment .

~ JUNGKOOK ~

The days go by smoothly. It took a while for Jojo to get the hand of it, but soon enough, the orders look like mere tools in her hands, bending to her will. Thank goodness, she had the conscience not to lash out at rude customers even though I could see how hard she strained the muscles of her forearms by her sides. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave the coffee shop. All that and she still kept to her strict schedule, running every day at the crack of dawn. Every single day. Even I didn't work out that much.

I had to admit that my interest for her kept increasing more and more with every new detail I noticed. I was intrigued to find out more about her and I strangely found myself being pulled to her presence like a magnet. We'd continued our shared runs and conversations on each other's apartments more often than I remembered but there was still no progress on our status. Well, I once called her my friend and she didn't object to it so that must be a start.

"Well, someone's got a new crush."

I rip my eyes off Jojo's figure and come face to face with Kwan's amused stare. "What?"

"You like her, don't you?" Kwan teases further.

I sigh deeply and put my apron on the counter, ready for my lunch break. "I don't know, honestly, " I admit. "I'm not sure what it is, exactly."

"Listen, I know a crush when I see one and yours definitely is . Why don't you ask her out?"

"It's complicated."

Before Kwan can torture me with his long string of questions, Jojo stomps her way toward us with closed fists. "I swear to God if that bitch asks for a menu one more time..."

"Hey, hey we talked about this, " Kwan interferes. "Deep breaths. In and out."

She does what she's told a couple of turns and then rests her hand on her hip. "Nope. I'm still angry. I have to punch something."

"No violence in our workplace, Jojo."

She pouts in distaste and then suddenly her eyes land on mine. Her hand reaches out and points at my chin. "You got a little something.."

I dip my vision down only to be met with her index and middle finger giving my head a hard flick. She erupts in teasing giggles, soon joined by Kwan's booming laughter.

"Gotcha! Bro, I feel better already, " she says and gives Kwan a manly fist bump. I shake my head in surrender, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips and head for the room on the back. I hear the swish of Jojo's apron on the counter as she soon falls into my steps. We had a ten minute break everyday and Jojo was never one to miss it, always deciding to share that precious time with me. She kinda ruined it with the jokes sometimes but I didn't really mind.

She offers me a slice of cucumber trapped on the sharp edge of her knife and I politely decline. She always did that, sharing food left and right even though most of the times it wasn't even that much to begin with.

"Wanna hangout after work?" I suddenly ask. I hadn't planned this at the slightest. It was like the words jumped right out of my throat. Sure, we'd hung out before but only on days off and certainly not on evenings.

She hesitates for a moment before chewing on the cucumbers. "Sure, why not? It's Sunday tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, " I admit.

"Cool."

I try not to let the excitement show on my face as I finish the last bits of my lunch. The late afternoon takes longer than usual to arrive. By the end of the shift, I'd been itching to get the apron off. Jojo, on the other hand seems unbothered. For her it was probably just another day with the bane of her existence. She nudges her elbow into my side as we exit the doors together, throwing a glance at the bike by the side of the road. She would ride that thing here everyday even though the memories of the accident were still fresh. "I'll just leave it here tonight, " she says, as if reading my thoughts. "Don't wanna make your sorry ass struggle to keep up with me."

I give her a teasing light push and pull at a string on her hair. "Fuck off."

We go for a series of playful kicks and thrashes that turn milder and milder with every inch we come closer to my apartment. By the point we've reached the door, my poor hair is being twisted like a rope in her cruel hands. She really liked touching my hair. She kept saying she'd braid it or put it in a ponytail at least once before she died. Me on the other hand had scolded her for mentioning death in the first place.

"Ok, but you have to let me style it for you, " she insists, never dropping the issue.

"No, thank you. I like my hair the way it is, " I reply in feigned smugness.

"Asshole, " she mumbles under her breath.

"What?"

"I said Casserole. I'm craving some."

My eye creases soften on their own. "I can make it for you if you want."

"You know how?"

"No, but I can look it up online."

At that, a shy smile brushes her features. "Nah, it's alright. I think about all sorts of food all the time. I'd probably change my mind after five minutes."

She plops down on the couch comfortably and groans when the bones of her back click to let her unwind. The way she'd grown more and more comfortable around me gave me this weird sense of satisfaction, as if I'd been seeking for that validation from the start. In fact, our whole situation was weird. I enjoyed her company and hopefully the feeling was mutual but there was still something missing. I didn't know exactly what but I certainly knew that deep down she was hiding a whole different personality.

My apartment had become so familiar to her, she doesn't hesitate to let me know without much further ado that she'd be using the restroom. But just before fully rising, she types something down on her phone with the utmost concentration. The only reason why it attracted my attention was the excessive amount of times she'd done that for today. And yesterday. And days before that. It would take one bite of her food and she'd immediately reach for her phone.

Did she use a calorie tracker?

I curse myself enough to damn my soul to hell for the rest of eternity but it still doesn't stop my hand from shakily grasping the phone lying on the couch. I draw the pattern I'd memorized from watching her unlock it all those times and just like that, the Notes app lights back into life. My eyes widen with every single line I read.

Day 35 I fucked up today. I had three donuts for breakfast and pizza for dinner. The cravings are fucking horrible. Total : 1560 cals

I scroll down to some days back.

Day 34 I wouldn't say it's bad. I went for a run and had an apple afterwards. Take that Anna, you whiny bitch! Total: 78 cals

There's a visible pattern in the notes; wins, losses,relapses. My eyes scan the screen speedily, fleeting through each letter and word.

Guess what? I fucked up again—

I hate myself—

I did not eat anything today! Nothing, I tell you! Haven't felt this empty since—

I so wanna die right now—

Please make it stop—

Day 71 No comment

Day 72 No comment

No comment

No comment—

"That's my phone, you know."

I raise my head to level my blown-out pupils with her calm ones. Unperturbed. Smooth like waves in a gentle breeze. She doesn't look angry to witness my shameless snooping, just disappointed. She knows that I know. It all makes sense now. The scars, the small meals, the excessive workouts...I feel a pang in my chest for being such a fool all this time.

I muster whatever courage left within me and rasp out the words. "Who exactly is Anna?"

~ JOJO ~

"She's a bitch."

"An imaginary bitch, " Jungkook emphasizes.

"Doesn't make her less of a bitch, " I mumble.

He has been giving me a cold yet sympathizing stare for the last five minutes but I knew that deep inside he was bashing himself for not knowing.

"It's short for Anorexia, " I clarify.

"How long has this been going on?" Jungkook continues. He didn't seem like giving up on the detective role anytime soon. Little did I know that he would fully embrace the title.

"Three years."

His head drops in his hands. He gives his pretty face a hard rub before turning it back towards me, eyes now laced with something similar to compassion.

"Why aren't you looking at me like that?" I ask him.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm some sort of freak."

"You're not a freak, " he grits between his teeth.

"But that's what everyone would say if I told them. I know they'll look at me differently."

"I'm not everyone."

He was right. He wasn't everyone. That's why I kept dropping hints on him with every chance I could get. I wanted him to know but then again I didn't want him to know. It was hard to explain.

Jungkook keeps his piercing stare on me, hoping to get a reaction. Then he pats the spot next to him on the couch as a few strands of hair fall into his eyes. It made him look so adorable, I decided right there and then I would do whatever he said. Just asking would be enough.

"What's it like?" he asks as soon as I make myself comfortable.

"My disorder?"

He nods.

I think for a few moments before answering. How was I supposed to to explain it? It had been by my side for such a long time, I didn't know how to tell my disease and myself apart.

"Well, to begin with, I'm fat."

Come on. Say it. Come on.

His eyebrows scrunch in disbelief. "No, you're not."

There you go.

"You look pretty normal to me, " he continues.

"Normal is just another word for "you're fat but I don't wanna say it in your face, " I spit and it only makes him look more confused. "Oh, come on. I bet the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about anorexia was a skinny pale girl looking at a mirror. See? I knew it. In people's eyes anorexia and non-skinny people do not correlate."

Jungkook looks embarrassed to say the least. I know he's trying his best to find a gentle way around me but the deep crimson of his cheeks doesn't make it any easier for him. "I—"

"Look, Juan. I don't wanna overwhelm you with my bullshit. I'm sick in the head, okay? The things I do are not cool and I don't want you to be part of it."

"I thought we were friends..." he whispers in a low voice.

"We are but—"

"Just explain it to me, please. I'll help you get rid of it."

He really had no idea. His gullible self couldn't understand that this was not just a disorder. It was a lifestyle and the only way I knew how to survive. I release a sigh of defeat and try to muster the most joyful tone. "Fine. You wanna know what it's like? I'll tell you what it's like. Every day, I get up from that bed with the sole purpose of starving. I don't want to eat. It's that simple. Now you're probably thinking: ' why the fuck aren't you dead yet?' That's because I can't starve correctly, Juan. I can't do shit."

Jungkook keeps his unwavering stare directed towards my face and hands that passionately make weird gestures from time to time. I notice something sparking within me, a small flare of anger and pent up frustration finally getting some release. Saying the words out loud was unnerving. I'd never imagined them anywhere but on the interiors of my head.

"Numbers are important. I can't tell the difference even if I lost some weight. That's why I use the scale everyday."

"What do you usually eat?" Jungkook carefully asks.

"Anything that has low calories in it. But it doesn't last long and I'll immediately eat junk food three times the amount. Starve. Binge. Starve. Binge. It's a vicious cycle."

"Why don't you try a healthy diet?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "Wow, you're richer than I thought."

He blinks. "What? Why?"

"Healthy diets are expensive, dumbass. Ever wondered how rich people have those avocado diets and that type of shit? But that's just an excuse. The real reason is that I lack will."

"If you lacked will, you'd be dead by now."

"That's where I'm heading."

His head falls in his hands again and those pretty smooth lips mumble under his fingers. "You're not satisfied with your body?"

"Not satisfied is an understatement. I hate my body. It's hard to explain actually. I don't want to be sick to the point where I can't even stand but I don't want to be curvy either , you know what I mean? Its like I want a thin body but then I see a muscular one and I'm like ooh I want that one too and I don't know..."

Jungkook's eyes seem to sparkle on that. "So, you want a lean muscular body?

"Yes."

"That's not so hard to achieve."

I put up my best fake surprised-expression. "No shit, sherlock. Why didn't you just say so? You would've saved me from a lot of trouble."

"Fuck you, " he grumbles.

"I'm already fucked for life my man."

His deep sigh tickles my face. "You're impossible. How can you joke about this?"

"Then what am I supposed to do? Cry about it? Trust me, I've tried that a lot of times. It won't do shit. If I laugh about it, it won't be as shitty, " I add. "But jokes aside, it's not just about being thin. Its also about being in control, being aware of your own body. I feel so angry and frustrated every time I lose my streak."

To my surprise, he smirks in such an inappropriate way, it paints his face in a whole new canvas . "Don't worry. There are some situations where control just isn't needed."

I almost choke on my spit. Jungkook, being audacious? Well that was new. "Feeling bold, Juan?" I tease.

"Maybe, " he admits but now it had turned into what seemed like a shy smile. I try to latch onto that glimpse of humor and normalcy in hopes of taming the wild turns and takes of our conversation. But just when I thought I'd taken hold of it, Jungkook jumps into a new question. "What else can you tell me?"

I highly doubted I would be able to spill the contents of my soul in such a short time but if he was so hellbent on knowing more, knowing he would get." I can tell you a lot of things but I can also guarantee they're not pleasant."

He doesn't even blink.

"Fine. You asked for it." I pause. " I've been like this for three years now and it has only gotten worse as time passed. I already know what you've seen online and what you think eating disorders are. Trust me, it's bullshit. Don't believe the shit they give you. Do you know how many overweight people are anorexic? A whole bunch of them but if they tell anyone about it they'll get laughed at 'cause apparently anorexia exist only for skinny white girls. A lot of guys have it too. But they call it cutting back some pounds when they hit the gym. No way that's unhealthy, right? Totally justified. It's all just a big pile of shit. There's nothing cute or romantic about it. You know what's funny? I can go for days without taking a shit but I'll pee every two hours. I drink so much water to the point where it makes me sick. I never get warm. I take every single bite counting numbers in my head and wondering how I'll burn it off later, I spin in circles to make myself sick just so I won't be able to eat, I measure my waist three times a day and I feel like fainting every time I get up. I hurt myself 'cause I don't like what I see."

I feel that familiar ball of imaginary yarn settle to the base of my throat but I push it back down just as fast. Not now. Anytime but now.

Jungkook's eyes glint with sadness. He gulps once before lowering his vision and choosing to stare at the hands resting on his lap. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, " I reply. " It's not your fau—"

His hand shoots out to capture my own. A thousand tiny electric sparkles tingle up my arm. Maybe it's the lack of contact or just the knowledge that it's him but the way his warm palm fits into mine feels so right and I can't move it away for the life of me. His thumb brushes lightly across my knuckles. "I'm not pitying you, okay?" he says in a gentle voice. "I would never pity you. I just don't want to see you like this."

I lift my eyes to his own and stare at him like he was a glass statue, pouring some of his brightness on me. I didn't understand why he hadn't kicked me off yet. And to think that I was enjoying it...

Jungkook observes the slight tremor of my hand in his, which I'm desperately trying to hide and a subtle smile graces his lips. "You're touch starved, " he murmurs. Not in a malicious way. Not mocking me for it. Just stating things out in the open. It was the quality I liked the most about him.

"Physical contact is a luxury to me," I admit.

"It shouldn't be. You're human."

"I'm not even sure about that anymore."

The smile stretches wider as his nimble fingers intertwine with my trembling ones in a gentle, yet firm grip.

"Is this okay?" he questions, eyes set on the motion.

"No, but carry on."

It all felt like a guilty pleasure, like those sweet candies your mother keeps hiding from you and when you do find them, the taste is but absolute bliss. A forbidden fruit. I knew I shouldn't be leading him anywhere and spoil his peaceful life with my problems but I couldn't make myself pull back either. I was all of a sudden caught up between two fires that would scorch me and themselves in the end. Pushing people away or letting them in the confines of my chaos. I would lose either way.

I put on my best unperturbed mask to make it known I wasn't affected at the very least but just like that, his other hand slides up to my elbow and locks it in place. His deep look burns with something I can't quite decipher. "Can I kiss you?" he suddenly asks.

I freeze for a split second but try to shake it off with an intentional raise of my eyebrow. "Why?"

"I want to, " he breathes.

I was torn between slapping some sense into him and laughing my ass off but I do neither. My posture stays unmoving, waiting. "Do you really want to?" I ask again.

"Yeah, " he confesses and I catch his eyes glancing down to my lips.

I shrug. "Okay."

I've barely gotten the word out when he closes the small distance in a matter of seconds. A hand latches onto my jaw to angle it better and that's where I feel the soft, plushy texture of his lips come into contact with mine. They're so delicate and move so gently, I feel like I've ascended into time and space. I let his bangs tickle my cheekbones because it obscured his eyes from view and I didn't want to witness the reality of it.

Before I can dwell longer on them, he pulls back, forming the smallest of distances. His pupils are blown out, dark eyes staring with something more than just interest. I take notice of my fist bunching up the T-shirt he's wearing. Apparently, I hadn't been able to block out all my reactions. I release the material immediately and rise to my feet. A quick glance at the window showed that it was already dark.

"Good night, " I chirp and grab my phone resting on the table, heading speedily for the door.

Jungkook panicks and stands up just as fast. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Home," I reply.

His eyebrows bunch up in confusion yet again. "You can't just go like that after I kissed you."

"Watch me."

In less than four strides I've crossed the threshold and shut the door behind me with a thump. People were right when they said you couldn't see yourself blush but you could feel it. My whole face felt like it was on fire, an uncomfortable warmth spreading equally up to the tips of my ears. Who the fuck even blushes anymore?

I smack my lips in annoyance as I make my way down the stairs in a newfound rush. I cant deny it. I liked the kiss. Maybe a little too much. In fact I wanna go back there and steal the breath out of his lips. But I can't. It was a one time thing. And it will remain that way. Or at least I hoped so.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

Anorexia nervosa, often referred to simply as anorexia, is an eating disorder characterized by low weight, food restriction, fear of gaining weight, and a strong desire to be thin. Many people with anorexia see themselves as overweight even though they are, in fact, underweight.

Sleep is far from reach as I keep scrolling down page after page of the same generic description. Countless of pics of young girls with ribs and bones sticking out of their pale skin had been more than enough to make my own skin crawl, the after-images blazed forever behind my eyelids. She was right— they all said the same thing but I'd always known that no matter what what was said, you couldn't really understand something without experiencing it yourself first hand.

I put my laptop aside and lay down on the warm comfort of my bed. Even though I'd willed my eyes shut, sleep just wouldn't come. She kept busying my head with all kinds of thoughts— thoughts of her disorder, thoughts of what she was doing right now and the memory of her soft lips on mine. I keep replaying that exact moment like a loop, feeding off my imagination like a middle-schooler. She'd acted like she barely gave a shit but there was no mistakening the furious blush that had fallen across her nose and cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. It looked surprisingly adorable on her, different from any type of reaction I'd gotten in exchange.

I roll over the other side of the bed and smash the back of my head on the pillow. I'm such an asshole. And she's no better either. How can you just leave after someone kisses you?

I leave my mind pondering to these thoughts as my eyelids slowly start to weigh down on me. But just when I'm about to pass out cold, a dark figure intrudes the corner of my eye, causing my body to turn upright.

Jojo's standing by the threshold, dressed up in what looked like loose see-through sleeping clothes. The material fell in graceful waves from the hems and pooled around her ankles. It felt weird not seeing her dressed up in her usual tomboy look but I was enjoying the view nonetheless. Her hair drapes over her shoulder and hides a part of her face, the rest of it, illuminated by the moonlight seeping from the drawn-back curtains. It looked like she'd just awoken, eyes mussed up with sleep but still focused on my form. She stares deeply at me, as if waiting for something.

All traces of exhaustion now wiped clean, I push myself up on my elbows and return the stare. How had she gotten here this late? Did she know my password?

She saunters over to the bed in such a seductively delicate manner but yet it was so subtle, I doubted whether she did it on purpose or not. Her left knee touches the duvet first, making the bed dip slightly under her weight. Then she leans her palm facing down and proceeds to come closer and closer on all fours like a predator targeting its prey. I was like a deer caught in the headlights in the most cliché sense of the word. I kept observing her movements with silent adoration and the more I tried to look away, the harder my eyes seemed to fixate on her approaching form. At some point she's sitting so close to me that I can feel her soft breath fluttering my eyelashes. She slowly tilts her head and gives me a look of mild curiosity, as if puzzled by my existence there altogether.

"Can I touch you?" she softly asks. Her dark orbs bore into mine, waiting for my answer. Such a sheer persuasion is held inside of them that I find myself gulping audibly before nodding without a moment's notice. She comes impossibly closer, almost attaching her body into mine and then raises a hand up to my hair, the small fingers playfully twirling the dark locks. I then notice her own hair falling in curtains in front of her face, slightly obscuring her eyes from view. It makes her look even more mysterious and alluring, I can barely resist the urge to tuck a string back behind her ear.

"Can I do more than just touch you?" she asks again and this time the movement of her hand slows into a halt. The edges of her lips pull slightly in a teasing manner and seem to merge into a coy smile.

My heart starts beating like crazy. I can feel it accelerate into a manic pace as it pulses with an unfaltering heat underneath my fingertips. I muster whatever air left in my lungs and whisper the words in a breeze. "Whatever you'd like."

That's all the approval she needs. She tilts her head on the side and lets the tip of her nose brush my earlobe. The breath she lets go draws from me an involuntary shudder that washes over my body; from the top of my head and down to my toes.

I fist the sheets to the point where it hurts. I wanted to touch her too, to feel her and to breathe her in. But I don't. I decide to let her be the one in control, to let her know that just a word tumbling from her lips would be enough to give her all of me. All that I had.

She drags those sinful lips along the side of my neck painfully slow and then puts her legs on each side of my hips, straddling them. And then she kisses me. Even though barely a peck, it burns scolding hot and causes my lips to burst into a heap of tingles.

My hands find their way into her waist, digging through the material but she stops me with her own and gives my chest a light push. I try to relax and let my back lower till it finally makes contact with the sheets. She hovers above me, graceful strings of hair tickling my neck as she attacks my lips again with bruising strength.

That's when I feel it. My shirt being lifted. Her cold fingertips, in stark contrast with my ridiculously hot skin, leave goosebumps in their wake. I try to reach with my hands and help her get it off but she grabs them and puts them back down. "Don't. I'll do it for you."

She resumes her previous action and sweeps my shirt completely off but not before making sure those nimble fingers slide along my skin with an added pressure. I let her. I let her do whatever she wants with me. She can have me.

I pray silently with my eyes for her to kiss me again and surprisingly, she understands. But this time I can't help the small whine coming deep from the back of my throat as she dips her head down and lets her tongue swipe a sensitive stripe on my neck. I'm scared the sheets will rip into shreds from how hard I'm twisting them.

She doesn't stop. Only goes lower and lower with open-mouthed kisses, down my chest, through the ridges of my abs, all the way to my navel. She stops there and the hard muscle of her tongue moves in a way that makes me gasp out loud. I shut my eyes tight.

When I open them again, the pressure on my tummy slowly dissipates. I drag my eyes to my front but there's no one there. Just the open window swaying the curtains and the entirety of my room swallowed by semi-darkness.

She's not here. It was just a dream.

I sit up on my bed and drag a hand to my face, rubbing it hard to pull myself together. What the hell just happened? I hate myself even more for the fact that I wish it wasn't a dream. I let my head fall back with a thump into the pillows and notice the uncomfortable heat at the bottom of my stomach. "Holy shit, " I whisper.

~ JOJO ~

Sometimes even the most colorful butterflies in your stomach cannot stop the tears from falling. Me, like the miserable human being I was, had cried myself to sleep last night instead of hopping cheerfully around my room. Jungkook's shut eyes and the serene expression on his face when he'd put his lips on mine had only made me wallow into self-doubt even more than usual. Did he actually mean it or had it just been a reflex, something to pass the time? I felt as if I didn't deserve any of the things he offered me, regardless of his intentions. But fuck, did I want to have him. Fuck. I'd never met a more perfect person with all of those tiny imperfections that actually made him real and whole.

That perfect smile that puts all of his pearly white teeth on display shines bright even know as he notices me entering the shop but I don't fail to detect the eyes that shy away in embarrassment. How cute.

"Hey, " he tries to hold the grin from spreading across his face as he scratches his neck awkwardly.

"Hey yourself, " I reply with forced nonchalance. It doesn't work. I fall under the scrutiny of his eyes as he can tell something's off.

"Your eyes are red, " he states matter of factly.

"Last time I checked they were brown."

His face falls. "Don't give me that shit."

Wow. That kiss had definitely given him some confidence. As far as I remembered, swearing was something he found hard to do unless absolutely necessary. Was I getting to him already?

Preparing to start the work, I click my tongue and move into an arc around his back. I let the silence fill the empty slots, too tired to come up with some lame excuse when suddenly, the presence of warm fingers greets the skin of my elbow. I look down to see Jungkook's hand on it, eyes brimmed with genuine worry, something I hadn't seen in a long time. "Is everything alright?" he questions and the words alone make the butterflies in my stomach almost turn into pigeons. "You left all of a sudden last night."

The angle on which he bends his neck to level his eyes with mine makes them stand out so adorably, so bright and full of life, I can barely hold a squeal from ripping out of my throat. He was just standing there in all his glory and looking at me like I was the thing he cared about the most. Maybe I was. Did it sound too far-fetched?

I slowly reach up and twirl one of his dark locks on my forefinger, letting it drag to the side of his cheek as I give it a small poke. I hear the breath that hitches on his throat and it only spurs me on even more. "Why? Did you miss me?"

He doesn't back down, eyes boring into mine with an intensity that deserved some recognition. They occasionally flicker down to my lips and I already know what passes through his mind at this moment.

Someone clears their throat.

I immediately put some distance, eyes dragging to the new intruder only to find Kwan staring at us both with a shit-eating grin. He was gonna use this to blackmail us, I was sure about that but I couldn't care less. Not when Jungkook's eyes follow me without failing as I backtrack a few steps.

"He had something in his hair, " I explain with a faint gesture. Kwan's grin grows impossibly larger but he doesn't say anything, deciding instead to grab one of the glasses and wipe it raw, a habit more than out of intention.

I ignore his teasing remarks for the rest of the day and watch Jungkook's prying eyes from the corner of my vision. He'd throw a glance my way with every chance he got and without even being subtle about it. When it's time for our lunch break, his stare becomes so bashful, I can't help but stare back with an offended glare.

"You're doing it again, " he says before I can part my lips.

"Doing what? " I ask.

"Putting a mask on your face. It's funny but it's bullshit."

More swearing. Was it really possible to change someone for the worst with a few words? The last thing I wanted was for him to follow into my steps.

"There's no need to act cool all the time. If you're not okay, you can just say so." His hands fumble with the edges of his lunch box, fingers scraping at it out of nervousness. "You can say it to me, " he adds more softly. " I'll listen."

"Hey, its not that big of a deal, " I wave him off.

"Not that big of a deal?" he mimicks. "You can die."

"So? What's it to you?"

Jungkook sighs deeply. "Jojo—"

"Are you gonna feed me the classic love yourself bullshit?" I interrupt him before he has the chance to say the words I've heard being trumpeted so many times. "Cause there's no need for that. I already love myself. I mean, sure I would jump off a cliff if I could but I love living. I love life to death."

I'm pretty sure that so called mask he mentioned was glowing with pride right now. Even though deep down I knew it felt wrong, I still—

"You do this on purpose, don't you?" I turn my eyes to him only to see a smug expression that looked so foreign and uncharacteristic on his face. "I know what you're doing. You act rude and sassy and uncaring to fend people off so they won't get attached to you because you think your presence alone harms them." He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his face floats mere inches from mine. "Isn't that right?"

When I don't answer back, his hands cup my knees as he leans so impossibly close that I can count all the dark brown flecks in his eyes. "Hate to break it to you but you can try as much as you want. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

His husky voice brings a smile on my face and I still make no move to put his hands away. "Oh, I can get rid of you. I just don't want to."

~ JUNGKOOK ~

"What do you mean you don't want to? I thought you liked hanging around with me?"

"It's late, Juan."

Jojo grabs the handles of her bike and turns it around in a semi-circle but before she can hop on the seat, I give her hoodie a pull and take over. From the moment I start pedaling, she sighs in exasperation. "Dude, come on, give it back."

"I'm not taking no for an answer, " I quickly reply. "I'm making chicken breasts tonight. Low calorie. You have to come over."

Jojo slowly catches up and we move like that for a while; her walking and me on the bike. It felt strangely relieving to have a moment of peace after a long and exhausting workday. I close my eyes and let the sun rays bask on my face with their warm texture. From the silence that follows, I suppose she's left with no other choice but to give in.

"Watcha thinking about?" I hear her ask after a few moments.

I open my eyes and turn my head towards her. "You."

She snorts. "You've stepped up your game, my man. Glad to see some progress."

"I learned from the best."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you were already popular with the ladies way before you met me."

The soles of my feet touch the concrete and I force the bike into a halt. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, " Jojo grins, "there's a girl behind us staring at your asscheeks–"

I choke on my spit.

"–and I mean like I can't exactly blame her because your ass is really looking pretty puffed up in that seat–"

"Anywaaaays, " I drag the word long enough to make her stop and proceed to flick my chin on the side. "Let me give you a ride."

Jojo's whole face dismorphs as her lips twist into a barely contained smile. It takes me a while to get the dirty reference. "Oh come on, " I yell out of frustration. "A ride. On a bike. Here on the street. Out in the ope–"

"Yeah, yeah. Just scoot over."

I do as I'm told and not a moment longer, Jojo tries to get comfortable on the back seat. However, I had a better idea. "Hey, why don't you pass to the front?"

Jojo peeks over my shoulder. "No. We'll fall if I do that."

"No, we won't, " I insist. "Just trust me. I'll keep you safe."

I don't know if those words struck a cord within her because she looks genuinely caught off guard with those big sparkly eyes staring at me in earnest. That's where I understood.

Words have power.

I could help her turn things around for the better. I could help her get back to normal. I could do all of these things and more if only she would crack the door of her soul open just an inch to let me in.

"Okay, " she finally answers in a tone much softer than usual. I scoot back and let her sit on the bike's supporting rod.

"Ugh, my ass is gonna be bruised like hell by the time we get there, " Jojo whines and squirms in discomfort.

Chuckling, I give the pedals a push and soon fall into a constant rhythm. Unfortunately for Jojo, it is hard to keep the balance so she is forced to hold onto my shirt. She barely touches it though. "Oh God."

"What?"

"Don't tell me this is one of those cliché supposedly romantic moments where the girl almost falls and they look into each other's eyes and shit like that."

I keep my eyes on the road. "I mean, it's not so dramatic to begin with. We're just chilling. And for the record, we did kiss so I don't see how just looking at each other can be such a big deal."

"Can't believe you pulled that card on me."

"You deserved it, " I reply in a smug tone.

After another moment of comfortable silence, Jojo's arms snake around my waist and the side of her head leans back on my chest. It feels like holding a baby, warming my body up with the presence of blood and life flowing underneath the skin.

For fear of scaring her away, I decide not to add any teasing remarks on why she changed her attitude in a matter of seconds, despite how tempting it was. If that loneliness she constantly felt was reduced even by a fraction, my job was done.

"Are you sleepy?" I carefully ask.

Her arms squeeze me even tighter. When she rubs her cheek affectionately on the front of my shirt, I fight the urge to erupt into giggles. "No, " she answers. "Just tired."

It would only take some time. Just a little bit more time and all her exhaustion would ripple away with no traces in her body or mind. This was my job from now on.

~ JOJO ~

It wasn't exactly his job to nurture me like a newborn baby but I couldn't deny the fact that I liked this new attention. I'd always tried not to feed my narcisstic side too much but it was a pleasant surprise to find out that someone other than Ana acknowledged my existence. These are the thoughts spinning round my head as I stare at the tiny bow of Jungkook's apron tied up at the small of his back. Or at least that's what I was supposed to be looking at because for the past fifteen minutes, my eyes had been trying not to drag down on the voluptuous planes of his ass that stuck painfully tight to the black jeans he was wearing. It's like the sucker was doing it on purpose, keeping his back to me the whole time.

"I really can't blame that girl for staring at you earlier, " I wonder out loud after the uncomfortable silence becomes unbearable. "With jeans that tight, you're asking for it, my man."

Upon hearing the words, Jungkook turns around with a spatula on one hand and a look of confusion on his face. "Isn't that what men usually say to women?"

"Exactly. But there are way less chances for a man to be sexually harassed by a woman, now isn't there? So don't come at me with that equality bullshit."

A small, understanding smile creeps up on the side of Jungkook's lips and in contrast to my words, it really seems genuine. "True. But that still doesn't make it okay." He turns back to flipping the chicken breasts on the pan.

I sigh. "Yeah, alright. Sorry for complimenting your ridiculously gorgeous butt—"

A snort.

"— but I won't hesitate to slap that shit if you piss me off, Juan. And I won't do it in a kinky way."

At that, Jungkook fully turns around, places the fresh meal onto the table and hurriedly takes a seat. "You're into that sort of thing?"

"Nah, man. I like being normal."

"Normal? You?" Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the emphasis on the word clearly intentional. I understood that something like that was to be expected from people but it didn't mean it didn't secretly hurt my feelings. Being always ousted as the weird one took a mental toll on you and if you ever tried to blend in, it would only make you stand out more.

I let out a noise of impatience. "Listen, here Juan. I might be sick as fuck but my life doesn't revolve around my disorder. I have favorite hobbies and colors and that kind of shit."

"Is it black?" Jungkook jumps in, suddenly curious.

"Navy blue, but that's not the point."

"I know it isn't." He sighs wistfully. "Sorry, Jojo. The only reason I said that is because every five seconds you try to assert your dominance so I assumed your preferences on that particular side were a bit...freakish." His expression is halfway between apologetic and entertained and he seems torn between the two.

Curse my dumbass brain for ever acting on impulse.

I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and avert his eyes. "Okay. Okay, I get it. I jumped too fast to conclusions–" I lean my elbow on the table, "–but that's because I'm very athletic."

Jungkook deadpans.

After another uncomfortable silence settles in and after Jungkook realizes he's not getting another word from me, he absentmindedly taps the table with his fingertips. " By the way, same for me, " he mumbles.

"Huh? " I logically reply.

"I have the same preferences as you." He raises his head and looks at me dead in the eye. "Normal."

At this point, I had no idea why we'd decided to reveal our sexual preferences for absolutely no reason but it had come to that. Crazy, right? Me and emo-boy pouring our hearts out to each other...

"So, " Jungkook interrupts my train of thought as he starts chewing on the fresh chicken pieces. "You seem like a competitive person."

"I guess you could say that, " I hum in agreement.

"Well, I have another proposal."

"Like I said, it's too early for me to get married."

The expression he makes as he tries to keep the food from spilling almost causes me to burst out laughing. Even after he's successfully managed to breathe in some air, the faint traces of a phantom smile are still visible.

"I meant a challenge. For you. A bet, to be more exact. Do you like bets?"

"I do, actually."

"Well then. We'll play a game of tic-tac-toe. The rules are simple. If you win, I'll do everything you want for the rest of the day. Now....if I win....." A devilish grin stretches on one side of his face. "You'll practically do whatever I ask you to. It's the same for both cases."

"What's the catch?"

Jungkook leans back in his chair and links his hands on the back of his head. " There's no catch. I like games, that's all."

The satisfied, confident expression he was wearing made it clear that this was not just a simple game. I was sure as hell he had something up his sleeve but that didn't turn me off nor made me back down. Why not let the guy have his own fair share of fun? However, that didn't mean I couldn't at least give things a little twist.

"Okay, then. Take your shirt off."

This time Jungkook really can't help but choke on his chicken breasts, sputtering pieces of food everywhere. One of them barely misses my face.

"What the fuck! Why?" he screeches, hands wildly attempting to clean the mess.

I slowly drift into a smile. "Relax, pretty boy. We're playing the game on your abs.

~ JOJO ~

"This is stupid."

"You're stupid. Now shut up."

Jungkook gives me one last incredulous look before pulling the shirt completely over his head. In all honesty, the sight was to drool for. That swirling tattoo I'd always caught a glimpse of, is now clearly displayed on one part of his chest and on his left side, reaching up to his neck and down to his hipbone. I try to keep my composure as best as I can but some of my facial expressions must have been on point because Jungkook seems to start feeling uneasy. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and scratches the back of his head. I almost feel bad for lightly snorting but then I think better of it. After all, I was allowed to have some harmless fun, right? No biggie.

The ridges of Jungkook's magnificent abdominal muscles come into view as he slowly approaches. His posture is a bit stiff, however. The guy was trying his best to suck his stomach in, in hopes of flaunting his slim waist in the most perfect angle.

"Stop flexing, Juan." I say in a monotonous voice. "I already know you're ripped. "

Caught in the act, he shyly smiles and lowers his eyes. "Sorry."

The smile only grows further when I use a marker to draw the lines for the game on his stomach. He squirms and twitches with every flick of my wrist. Apparently, ticklish was another adjective to add onto the dictionary of my names for him.

After a rough sketch is drawn on his tummy, Jungkook gestures for me to make the first move. "Ladies first, " he says with a grin that almost looked pained. His eyes follow my hand that had been finishing the last touches.

I draw an X.

He draws an O.

We move back and forth, exchanging the marker every time, until I realize.

I'm fucked.

He had me cornered in both rows. Wherever I put my next mark, I would still lose. It was an old technique that everyone had used at some point but my dumb ass had fallen right into the trap. But was I really to blame with him looking at me like that?

Jungkook chuckles. "I win."

Fuck. I'm screwed.

"Looks like you're gonna be my servant for the rest of the day. " He throws a careless glance at the windows, pitch dark background already behind them. "Or should I say, night?"

I sit back down on the chair and man-spread in defeat. "Fine. You won. Congratulations. Now what do you want me to do?"

He doesn't even hesitate, his voice as clear as glass. "Kiss me."

I stare at him in disbelief but it didn't seem like there had been a slip of the tongue. He was dead serious with those hooded eyes and the fact that he hadn't even put his shirt back on was for some reason unnerving.

A scoff escapes from me. "Out of all the things you could've asked.... I thought you were gonna make me clean your kitchen or something."

"Oh ,we have plenty of time for that, " Jungkook replies with a newfound smugness.

I mull it over in my head for a second before slowly rising from the chair. He leans forward in anticipation and it's as if his every fiber feels ready to pounce in action.

I honestly found it hard to comprehend the concept behind all of this. Out of all the nice looking girls out there, he found a dirty looking rag called me? Me?!

I give my head a slight shake and reach up with the tips of my toes. I listen to Jungkook's breathing stagger for a moment, only to be released with disappointment when I touch my lips to the side of his cheek, furthest from his two plumps of pink rosy flesh. Jungkook's expression looks slightly annoyed as I pull back, observing the ruins left in my wake.

"That's not exactly what I was thinking, " he laughs to himself, half out of disappointment half out of disbelief.

"You never specified where to kiss you, " I explain.

There had been nothing forcing me to act the way I did. Absolutely no one but myself yet I still felt like something was missing. Like I wasn't enough for him or any other person. My mind kept lying to itself, in the hopes that if I could avoid being too touchy, he probably would forget about me altogether.

Jungkook, bless his soul, gets rid of the awkwardness in a moments's notice, his cheeks puffed up in what resembled a pout. "You played me good, huh?" he huffs and I hold the urge to laugh like a little girl. It felt weirdly cute to see him so worked up over a small rejection when he could make any girl fall in his arms with just a snap of his fingers.

I lower my voice in a mockingly deep baritone. "What are your next orders, my lord?"

Jungkook smiles.

* * *

After that, it's hell hours for me.

It's like he had been waiting for this chance all this time and now that the flood gates were open, he couldn't afford to waste any buckets of water. From cleaning to organizing to heaps and heaps of orders, Jungkook had been vastly generous. And the worst part was that I had to eat my next meal with him and not even dare think about counting calories. He would purposefully mess up the portions and make it impossible for me to calculate. As if I didn't already have a hard time doing that on the daily...

At one point I was even scolded for counting in my head because apparently, the genius had noticed my eyes moving upwards in circular motions as the food lay down in front of me.

In other words I was utterly fucked. The anxiety of not knowing what I was putting inside my body, of having no perception of numbers or weight scared the shit out of me and if it hadn't been for Jungkook's appreciative glances or encouraging words, I would've said goodbye a long time ago. With him it felt a little less guilty, less of a sacrilege.

"Just don't think about it, " he'd said to me and even though it was one of the most conventional phrases you could think of, coming from him felt different. As if there was an actual purpose behind the words.

"What's next?" I ask in a dead-sounding voice after finishing the rest of the dishes. " A hand-job?"

Jungkook raises his eyebrows in sudden amusement, his expression shamelessly entertained. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll settle for a massage for now."

I drag my eyes to his still bare torso and motion for him to lay down on the couch. "Good. 'Cause I wouldn't give you a hand-job even if you threatened to throw me off the balcony."

Jungkook's laugh is muffled by the pillows as he turns his sculpted back to me. "I like how you have no shame."

"Shame is for the weak, " I add.

My fingers work tirelessly on the smooth planes of his skin, pushing and pressing on specific points which I knew would grant him relief. The way he tries to hide satisfied grunts makes me feel light-headed but I bite my tongue and will my creative mind to take it down a notch, focusing on the task at hand. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't had so much physical contact in a long time. Who knew? It was still an enjoyable sight, what with all the tattoos gracing his beautiful bronze skin in long shapes and lines.

"You're really good at this, " Jungkook grunts after a particularly hard press of my hands on the small of his back, even though to me it sounded more like a moan. He folds his arms at his front and leans his head sideways.

"I am?" I question as a smile already pulls at the corners of my lips.

"Yeah, " he agrees.

"Well, to return the compliment, I really like your tattoos."

Jungkook turns around and lays on his back, staring at me under his long eyelashes. He doesn't utter a single word, just keeps looking at me like he would a statue in a museum, his fringe falling between his eyes but leaving enough space for him to see. My hand is left to linger on the velvety skin of his stomach.

"Most people say they look scary, " he says in a low, raspy voice.

"They're not, " I add and trace a curved black line with the tips of my fingers in reassurance.

Jungkook gently grabs the said hand, still not losing eye contact. "Are you scared of me, Jojo?"

"No. I'm not."

A silence falls in the room, its echo almost deafening but this time there's no discomfort, no weird looks, just the consoling presence of each other that hangs in the air like a halo of light. Then–

"Juan, I think I'm starting to catch feelings for you."

He stops himself from smiling, but it's useless. The smug grin had already made it past his lips. "Yeah, me too."

"Hmmm, " I mutter. "How do we make it stop?"

Jungkook slowly rises in a sitting position, that damned expression still visible on his face. "I don't– I don't think it's something you can stop."

" Aw shit man, " I scoff.

"Yeah, you just gotta go with the flow."

I'm positive there's a subtle irritated look on my face, which to Jungkook apparently looked hilarious. This had never happened before and I didn't know what exactly to expect. Was it normal? Was I going to be hurt again? What the fuck was I supposed to do?

"You're overthinking it. There's no need to put a name on your feelings." Jungkook cuts like a knife through my jumbled thoughts. "Besides, I thought we were talking about my tattoos."

"Right, " I confirm. " Is there a meaning behind them?"

"No. They're just for aesthetic purposes." The hooded eyes and dark expression is back on his face. "But–" he takes one of my hands and guides it on the side of his torso, "– this one does." He slides it a little further, on the underside of his forearm, tracing what I recognized as a tiger lily. "This one too. I'll tell you about it someday."

His stance is crouched. Even though he's a good feet taller than me, I somehow look towering over him. This position is suggestive enough in itself but it becomes even more so when Jungkook's knees cage around mine. Our eyes now levelling, I drag the line of my vision upwards, refusing to break the eye contact. And then, my eyes focus onto his lips and specifically the tiny little mole under them. It had caught my eye dozens of times before but for some strange reason, right now it looks like it's inviting me. By impulse, I gently meet his lips with mine and surprisingly he doesn't pull back, peppering me back with pouty kisses that are interrupted only by quick pauses for breath. I take the chance and discreetly lick that very mole with the flat of my tongue, feeling his lips' softness with a quick swiping motion.

It's like his gears are put into action. The sweet, gentle Jungkook is utterly forgotten from the moment he slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, wrestling his own tongue in full force. But then his hands reach up and slip under my sweater to feel the skin underneath and that's all it takes for me to flinch and push him off.

He immediately stops himself from going further and lowers his hands down by his sides. His hooded eyes turn back to alertness as he tries to comprehend what just happened. I feel bad for a moment.

"J—Jojo?" His eyebrows raise in concern. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just—" A deep sigh leaves my lips as I try to keep myself from panicking.

He was about to touch my tummy. My fat, squishy tummy. Just the idea of him touching me there gives me chills.

"I remembered something I have to deal with."

I rip myself off from the couch and drag a hand through my hair in distress, about to turn on my heel and get the hell out of here.

"Wait!" Jungkook yells after me and he grabs my forearm. Not harshly, just strong enough not to let me go. "Did I upset you?"

"No. I–"

Calm down. Deep breaths. One, two. One, two.

"I just have to–" I rush with my words, but Jungkook's hands are made of steel, such a stark contrast with his pleading eyes.

"Stay. I'll take care of you. " He's begging me now. " Please."

I give in–

~ JUNGKOOK ~

–but at what cost? She's been acting distant ever since the panicky incident and I don't know what else to do to get her back the way she was. She barely touches me, barely comes close and I wonder if it's a shame to admit that I miss her kisses too. However, the jokester in her has never left. She'll crack dark jokes from time to time, acting like nothing ever happened and I'll pretend to play along for fear of not making her leave.

It pained me to see her like this, to see her crumbling apart day by day while my hands were frozen in place. A soldier stuck on quicksand. Someone had to tell her this was toxic, that she was poisoning herself and was fully conscious of it.

Weeks and weeks under her presence had trained me to notice all the changes, all the little shifts in her demeanor. Today was no exception. At least not with the incident that had made me do things I'd never imagine doing.

It had all started when a new employee had joined us on the coffee shop, courtesy of my boss, whose relationship with him was rather close. It was one of those cases where you had to make favors for the sake of family relations, et cetera, et cetera. So far, so good. But was one really to imagine that the guy had the audacity to act like he owned the place? I tried to ignore his antics up until the moment he fucked with the wrong girl. My girl.

Despite my disapproving glances, Jojo had been making comments on her weight, constantly seeking Kwan's opinions on the matter.

"But I'm fat!" she had exclaimed, exasperated. In Kwan's eyes, this was just another one of her lame jokes but I knew the sting behind the words.

Then, completely out of line, the new employee had chirped. "You're not fat, you're just thick."

I'd whipped my head in his direction and jumped off the table I'd been sitting, my hands suddenly itching but Jojo had been quick to secretly wave me off. "Well then, you're not stupid, you're just dumb, " she 'd snarked, earning a whole-hearted guffaw from Kwan. The joke had been let at that, or at least that's what Jojo thought. My fists hadn't stopped til the itching sensation was satisfied.

"You okay, Jo?" I'd asked at lunch break, the new nickname making her lips barely twitch. She was upset. I could tell.

"Yeah, why?" she'd replied, eyes trained on my face. For once, she'd given me that warm, old look that went beyond friendship. I'd tried to cherish it for a few seconds before adding, "That asshole was rude to you."

I'd unconsciously rubbed my knuckles and that hadn't skipped past Jojo's eyes. "Nah, he's just– wait a second! Did you do something to him?"

I'd adverted her eyes and cleared my throat awkwardly. "I kinda beat the shit out of him." The image of the guy's swollen face and broken nose flashes into my memory.

She'd gasped but there'd been a mix of amazement and incredulousness in the tone of her voice. "That's my job!"

I'd smiled. "No one messes with my Jo."

She'd smiled back but her eyes had still been sad.

Now I ring the bell on her door, impatiently carding my fingers through my hair as it remains shut. Where the fuck is she? She hasn't been answering my calls for a while and I'm worried sick.

I torture the bell button again and slam my palms on the door. "Jojo, are you there? Come on, it's me! Open up!"

What if something had happened to her? What if– I slam my shoulder repeatedly on it and the lock busts open with a loud clang. Rubbing the sore spot, I quickly scan the room and finally, my eyes find her crouched form on the floor.

There's a pile of junk around her, chocolate wrappers, plastic bags, food splayed apart chaotically and vomit on the floor as well as traces of it on the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are fixed in space, staring at nothing. Dried tears have left moist streaks on her cheeks. She looks lifeless until the moment she takes notice of me and does a double take.

"Jungkook? What– what are you doing here?"

I fall down on my knees next to her, worry written all over my face, but she immediately closes in on herself, her body language radiating fear and protectiveness. "No! Go away, please!"

I don't listen, scooting further till my hands are on her arms, trying to find a way in but she only keeps resisting. "No! Please, don't look at me! Not like this!" Her body shakes with convulsions and quiet sobs rip through her throat.

This was the first time I'd seen her cry.

I grab a towel from the kitchen and dip it in the streaming water. Jojo tries to keep me at bay but I set my mouth on a straight line and force it to her lips. Cleaning her eyes, her face as if I wanted to exfoliate her from any traces of sadness. "Please, " she's begging me now. "Please, go."

I keep my hands on a steady pace, gently rubbing the towel where needed. "Shhh, it's okay. It's just some spilled food. You're okay."

She quiets down at the words and it only goades me further. "Shhhh. You're my baby. My baby, " I lift her up and clean the rest of her, whispering other sweet nothings in her ear until at last the storm passes.

~ JOJO ~

There were two options left when someone made comments on my weight. I either starved myself for two full days or binged on everything I could see like a fucking cow because hey, I'm still gonna be fat, right?

Unfortunately for me , I'd picked the easier way out and emptied the contents of my kitchen in the blink of an eye. It was one of the things I hated the most; stuffing myself till I couldn't breathe. However, what I hated even more was people seeing me in my own misery. Even if that person was none other than the dreamy-eyed boy who had cared for me more than anyone ever had.

I stay silent as Jungkook cleans me thoroughly, making sure to also get rid of the mess on the ground and give me enough privacy to slip out of my nasty clothes and brush my teeth. I just keep staring at him and wonder to myself if I had done any good deeds in this life to deserve him. It pissed me off.

"Do you need another pillow?" Jungkook asks under his dark curly fringe, his back crouched as he stands on the side of my bed.

"No, I'm good, " I rasp, my voice strained from bawling for a good couple of hours. I avert his eyes once more. The guilt and the anger keeps bubbling up on the surface.

Jungkook abandons his chair and sits on the bed, his outer thigh barely touching my forearm. The springs creak and whine under his weight. He takes my hand in his, rubbing comforting circles with the tip of his thumb. "You okay, baby?"

I lash out in a second, grabbing the collar of his black T-shirt and pulling it inches from my face. "Call me baby one more time and I'll rip your throat out."

To my surprise, he's not even fazed. A dark chuckle falls under his lips as he grins widely for me to see. Then, as if it couldn't get any more intense than this, he lets himself fall backwards on the bed, taking me along with him. My legs escape the cover of the sheets and straddle his waist, trying not to fall over and crush him. In that particular order. What a typical movie-like moment. I'm wearing pajama shorts and the pale skin of my thighs is completely exposed. As if on cue, Jungkook's eyes flick towards them, drinking in the view. Had he ever seen this much of my body?

"Do it, " he says in a low voice.

I slide one of my hands upward and gently wrap it around his throat. "You really want me to choke you, Juan?"

The bastard doesn't even say anything. He raises the hands laying by his sides and traces the outline of my thighs higher and higher till they settle on each side of my hips. Goosebumps chill my skin like flowers after rain. I'm torn between punching him and kissing him senseless.

"Who knows, I might actually like it, " he says. He hasn't even tried to wriggle out of my caging body, going as far as even baring his throat at me.

I smirk. "Are you always this submissive?"

Uh oh. Wrong move.

In a matter of seconds, I'm pushed backwards, the soft texture of the sheets smoothing the land on my back. Just like that, the positions are completely switched. Jungkook's grin never leaves his face as he's on top of me, his curly locks swinging like a crown on his head. He takes both of my curled fists and pins them on each side of my head.

"I was actually letting you in charge but now that I think about it ; I also deserve to have some fun right?" he states with a smug expression.

For a moment, I'm left speechless. My limbs too, have nothing to say. At least not with the way they're frozen in place, too caught on the spot to dare move.

Jungkook takes the chance and nuzzles his nose on the gap between my neck and jawline. On another situation I would have felt ticklish but not right now. A heavy weight on the pit of my stomach is proof enough for that. He starts leaving small pecks on the skin of my throat, making a beeline for the collarbones.

I honestly don't know what to do with myself. We've been playing around for a long time now but things have never gotten so serious. Not at this point. Only recently had I pushed him off and now here I was, the one turned into full submission.

"Do you plan on ruining yourself every time someone upsets you?" he mumbles, smooth lips barely grazing against my skin.

The image of that new guy flashes behind my eyes and my face sours, all those butterflies in my stomach crushed to dust, just like that. "Can we talk about something else?"

Jungkook pauses his administrations and pulls back just an inch, his eyes staring at mine in full concentration. "No."

I huff in frustration. "You're on top of me."

"So?" he raises one eyebrow.

"So, get the hell off!"

My wrists are suddenly pinned harder against the sheets, Jungkook's hands forcing them further down until they form little dips.

"No, " he repeats, almost mechanically.

I'm about to protest again when his tongue swipes at the vulnerable skin of my throat and that's all it takes to throw all caution to the wind. My back arches off the bed without my permission and I think I must've let out a sound because Jungkook is laughing that quiet laugh of his that makes his shoulders shake.

His lips are on mine, silencing whatever literate thought that tries to make it out. My hips are now straddled by his own knees and oh- my wrists are free because he lets them go gently and puts his hands on my cheeks, kissing me even more deeply, threading them through my hair and its suddenly too much, too much for me to handle.

I feel like I'm floating ten thousand feet off the ground and buried under layers and layers of earth at the same time. My breath shudders violently when his lips drag across the side of my face and nudge the sweet spot below my ear.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I whisper but it comes out so broken, so desperate. I'm practically begging at this point and I don't even know why.

Jungkook's hands settle on my clothed waist. His fingertips twitch in hesitation as he bunches the fabric and just like that–

"I'm sorry, "

–and lets go.

I feel relieved and disappointed.

His body peels off my own with reluctance that rips me apart in a million different ways and I feel my skin grow cold from his absence. He leans back on the heels of his hands, staring me down with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, " he repeats and rises from the bed, disappearing into the living room.

* * *

I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe. My body has not even moved an inch, too shocked, too frozen. My legs feel like lead, two slabs of heavy stone that pin me into place.

If it weren't for Jungkook's presence snapping me out of my empty reverie, I would've probably stood there like a dead body for days. He comes back (from the bathroom, apparently) his wet hair still trickling droplets of water on his shirt, eyebrows shining, and stands on the middle of the room.

"It's midnight, " he says, as if in a trance.

My eyes flick to the window. Pitch black. Indeed.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he continues, and I can swear the tips of his ears go spicy red. My heart melts into a hot buttery mass. He's blushing like crazy. I can see it! A guy, blushing in front of me. I suddenly can't contain my smile, all things forgotten in a blur.

"Yeah. I would like that, " I breathe.

He locks eyes with me and breaks the contact almost immediately, looking anywhere but in my direction. "I can take the couch–"

"No. Sleep here, " I say and my eyes close of their own accord. "With me, " I slowly add.

"Are you sur–"

My eyes fly open. "We just made out five seconds ago. Why is that such a problem now?" I lift my neck just an inch, to glare at him but there's no real malice in it.

His lips crack into a smile and I'm glad for the tension that dissipates like cigarette smoke. "I sleep without a shirt on, " he confesses.

"Okay."

He slips it off his torso in a swift motion but it's too dark me for me to make out any details expect for his dark silhouette and the wide planes of his shoulders.

"You can take off anything you want. I won't touch you, " I say and roll over on my side of the bed.

"I wouldn't mind it, " I hear him mumble but he complies, the sound of his belt unbuckling echoing against the room.

The bed dips under his weight as he occupies its other side and I feel more than hear the fall and rise of his chest, the labored breathing coming to a steady rhythm.

Two strong hands clasp around my waist and I'm pulled backwards into his chest. I don't push him off. I let him hold me to himself, caged by his body, by the feeling of him; his bare chest, his bare legs, his long hair tickling the back of my neck.

Everything is going to be okay.

I'm okay.

"Jojo?"

"Hm?"

"Do you care about me?"

I smile. " More than I'd like to admit."

He kisses the nape of my neck and pulls me harder against himself. It's not long before sweet, calm sleep sneaks its way into into our bodies.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

It's not the sun the one that wakes me up, despite it having been up for a while, not even the sound of the cars honking in the distance. It's the gentle caress of skin on skin, making goosebumps rise and my eyelids flutter.

I slowly crack one eye open and the smile that blooms on my face is automatic. Jojo's cuddled up on her side right next to me, her head laying between my chest and shoulder, arms splayed out to hug my torso like a teddy bear. But what really does it for me is her left leg thrown across my side. She keeps moving in her sleep and it's doing things to me. I can't breathe.

I suddenly realize that I'm only wearing my boxers. Nothing else.

Oh God.

I lift a shaky hand and try to detach her leg but my fingers linger for too long and she suddenly stirs. Her lips nudge my chest and unconsciously give the latter a tender kiss. Her eyes slowly open. For a moment it looks like she doesn't know where she is but then the realization dawns on her.

"Good morning."

Shit.

Her raspy voice only makes it harder for me to keep myself collected.

"Morning, " I manage.

She sits up and drags a hand through her hair, frustrated. "Why is your nice body the first thing I see? I'm jealous, " she huffs.

I open and close my mouth like a fish, caught on the spot. I'd never thought of my body as particularly nice. "It does its job so yeah, I guess, " I admit aloud.

At that her eyes drag down to a very unholy spot in between my legs. She smirks. " Oh, it does its job, alright. I think you have some problems with morning wood, my boy."

I grab the sheets on the side and swing them over my legs, embarrassment setting my face aflame.

She bursts out laughing. "Relax. It's not like I've never seen a guy with no pants before. Though, I'm kinda disappointed. I was expecting for you to have Lighting Mcqueen patterns on your underwear. " She shakes her head mockingly. "They're so plain."

I uncover my legs once again and this time I don't care. Let her see whatever she wants.

She stops laughing. Gives another glance to the crime scene. Gulps. "Yeah, like I said. Plain."

This whole exchange is so entertaining, I feel my insides flutter with joy. Last night's episode is forgotten in a ditch with no problem. We're back to the old times.

I get up and pace around the room, in search of a glass of water. My throat is parched.

"You know what? Go take a cold shower. All that–" she gestures toward my middle with a wave of her hand, "– is distracting me."

I stop pacing. "You know what? I'll put some pants on if you put some food on your stomach. That's a fair deal."

The color completely drains from her face, replaced by a dark expression that seeps the life out of it. Regret weighs me down.

"I'm never eating again, " she says, while her eyes bore holes into the floor. " Not until I reach my goal weight."

I drag a hand across my face and rub it. Hard. My sanity is on the brink of falling apart. "Then what are you gonna do?" I ask, frustration finally creeping on my voice. "When you get to your goal weight."

She shrugs. "I'm just gonna keep being unhappy, I guess."

It's the way she puts the words out there so easily that draws the line for me. So carelessly, like I mean nothing to her. Like she means nothing to herself.

"This is ridiculous. You know you're harming yourself and you still keep doing it. You know you're not gonna change anything in the end and you still keep doing it. I don't get it."

"Oh yeah?" she spits, her own voice full of poisonous venom. "Why do you keep living if you know you're gonna die one day? Huh, Juan? Why do you do it?"

"This is killing you!"

"I don't care!"

I flinch. It takes me a while to gather myself before I muster the strength to spell out the next few words. "I don't even know why I care about you when you don't even care about yourself."

Her lips curl into a half smile but it doesn't exactly reach her eyes.

"You're right, " she says. "I don't."

Silence.

"Maybe you should go now."

I look up into her face but she's not looking at me, too focused on a spot on the wall. She's telling me to leave. To get the hell out of here. I'm suddenly realizing the absurdity of all this —me shirtless and half nude, boxers stuck to my body like gauze, having a fight with the girl I love with all my heart. I realize the enormity of it. Of how much I love her, of how much I'm hurt by seeing her hurt and I choose to leave.

I pick up my pants from where they lay carelessly on the floor and put them on in excruciating slow movements. I grab the belt and the T-shirt and make my way out of the apartment. Her eyes never leave that spot.

I shut the door behind me and lean my head on its cool ugly surface.

What an ugly mustard -yellow door.

" Jojo, don't do this, " I say, loud enough for her to hear. "Come on, please."

No answer.

The anger falls off me in waves I can't control, swallowing me whole until my eyes see black. I kick the door so hard, my leg grows limp. Another punch and I think I've cracked the wood but I don't care. I don't give a shit. I scream and slam my fists and palms like a madman throwing a tantrum.

"Dammit! Why do you keep doing this?! Stop it, damn you! You're hurting yourself for fuck's sake!"

"You're hurting me, " I add in nothing more than a whisper, my voice already hoarse.

The door never opens.

~ JOJO ~

The door opens easily with just a push of my fingertips. I try to look uninterested but my restless eyeballs betray me in an instant, scanning the coffee shop in all four directions within seconds. I'd spent the whole night spacing out while sitting at the foot of my bed on the floor. I'd never felt so much regret, so much of it that it had felt like I was drowning–

"He's not here." A voice startles me out of my thoughts and I turn around to find Kwan looking at me with something that looks similar to pity.

I blink. "What?"

"Jungkook, " he explains. " He's gone."

My heart falls into the bottom of my feet and I suddenly can't keep the panic from tainting my voice. I grip Kwan's shoulders. "Where?"

"Woah, calm down! I think he's gone to his parents or something. Boss already gave him permission."

My grip loosens. "Oh."

Kwan blanches but soon a look of genuine concern flashes behind his eyes. "What's the matter? Did you two get into a fight?"

"No, " I deny.

I can faintly make out Kwan's rambling but it sounds so, so far away because soon my ears are thundering.

he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–

"Jojo."

I'm shook awake, courtesy of my man-handler. He looks truly worried but I just can't seem to care. All I know is that I need to get out, distract myself, do something–

The indecisive old bitch lady steps foot into the shop and I curse her existence and mine altogether. This is so not the time to be arguing over extra menus.

She takes her usual seat with an excessive amount of unnecessary grace and looks at me pointedly, waiting to be tended to.

I smile. "Welcome, Mrs. Park."

* * *

Everything feels empty, blurred around the edges.

Meaningless.

I finally realize how important purpose is and how everything we do is driven by it.

Lately I've been walking in circles, wandering like a fly trapped inside a jar, not knowing where I am or what I'm doing.

I'm just there.

I never eat anymore. I never drink. I savor my body like an untouched temple and hope against hope that I'll get better.

It's okay if I'm not. I can't make the difference anymore, anyway. I've spiraled into the bottomless pit of oblivion and the process is slow. It makes me feel numb.

I stare at the rumpled apron laying on the floor along with the rest of the garbage and Ms. Park comes into mind. She hadn't really appreciated my spilling hot tea right onto her chest. The dumb bitch had gotten me fired but it doesn't really feel like a great loss. I'd only worked there because of him, anyway. Him and only him. I never cared about anyone else. But he's not here. He'll never be here anymore.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and make use of the sudden memory to type down his number. I have it memorized by now. The line beeps.

"Hey."

My heartbeat spikes in excitement. "Hey yourself," I reply hastily but my voice cords haven't been used for days, so it sounds more like a rasp. I clear my throat.

"How's it going?" he asks. Casually. Like he would a friend. I missed hearing his voice.

"Good. You?"

"Same."

I bite my lower lip anxiously. I don't like his answers. I don't like how short and clipped they are. Clipped. Nipped. Chipped. Ripped. Zipped–

"So, the guys have been wondering when you'll be back, " I lie.

I hear him release a subtle sigh. "Oh. I don't really know, honestly. I've been hanging out with my parents and they plan on keeping me here for a while longer."

I nod my head slowly then remind myself he can't see me. "Right. Right, you must've missed them."

White noise.

Hmmm.

What else rhymes with noise?

Choice.

Boys

Toys

Turqoise–

"Well, have fun."

"Thanks......um, are you oka–"

I end the call.

he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–

i told you he doesn't give a shit

"I never said I did, " I reply without looking.

you hoped, though

"Shut up."

laughter

you do realize you're pathetic, right?

I turn my head to the mirror. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking bitch! Shut it!"

I spit and throw whatever I can get my hands on it but there's a smile there that I just can't see.

what rhymes with smile?

aisle

bile

rile

guile

worthwhile–

I scream and yell. I rip the sheets of the bed, swipe off the contents of my desk, punch and punch the mirror till my hands are raw and bleeding a waterfall. I kick and thrash with every ounce of strength left in me but there's no use.

She's still smiling at me.

* * *

I'm sitting down on the floor, surrounded by a pool of my own insanity. I can't tell how many days have passed and my cheeks feel surprisingly moist. Have I been crying?

There's no one else around here.

It doesn't matter. I like being alone.

It feels nice to just be with your own thoughts, not having to fear being overheard when you scream ideas and screenplays in your room. You can just be yourself and enjoy doing the things you like the most. But still, sometimes it gets really lonely and not just in the literal sense. I'll always check the dark corners to see if someone's there, I'll always feel like someone's whispering, saying bad things about me, that coat hanged on the rack will always look like a person and then I'll even start getting scared of my own shadow, my head will always shake uncontrollably when I'm crying because there won't be anyone to hold it for me, anyone to assure me that things are gonna be okay.

I don't like being alone. It's not nice.

I glance at the broken mirror, bloody cracks and lines making up the whole of it. There's only one spot in the corner that remains clean and untouched. A smile attached to it.

I realize now. Why she wouldn't go away. The reason why I could never win this war was because the enemy I was fighting against was none other than myself. She was no stranger. She was me. No matter how much we tried, me and my own resemblance would still be standing at the end of the day. If i was alive, she was alive. It was like a symbiotic relationship, a Yin to the Yang. We kept each other afloat and neither could exist without the other.

he's happy.

"I know, "

without you

"I know, " I repeat.

is that enough proof for you?

"It is."

then do it

"yes."

I rise from the floor and blindly look for my phone in the midst of all the trash. It's nowhere to be found. I then turn around and grab hold of the old telephone hanging on the wall. It stands out, an ancient relic hard to be found these days. I roll the numbers by memory. The line crackles for a couple of seconds before a familiar voice breathes into it. My chest constricts as I let out a pathetic whimper. "J– Jungkook... I'm sorry."

I don't give him time to answer, slamming the phone down with a loud ring.

it's over it's over it's over it's over i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

Big, fat tears trickle down my cheeks and chin and I do nothing to stop them. I whimper and whine as I head for the bathroom, reaching up with my toes to get the pills I'd hidden all these weeks. They're still here.

Waiting for me.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

I'm running as hard as my legs can take me but it's not really me doing it. It's my impulses being triggered with full force, struggling for survival. I'm completely detached from my body, my mind going through only one simple rule : I have to make it on time.

I don't even notice the heavy torrents of rain blurring my vision, making my feet trudge with difficulty. I don't even notice the people I push harshly out of my way or the red stoplights blinking past me. My eyes are focused inwardly like a camera, set on breaking through the sea of umbrellas.

please please please please

I repeat the word like a mantra in my head, praying against whatever odds that she will be okay when I get there, that she won't do what I think she intends to do.

please please please just not that anything but that please make her be alright

If only I could've hurried earlier, she wouldn't have had the chance to say those things. To say my name.

It was the first time she'd said my name. My actual name. Those few seconds hearing the syllables tumbling from her lips had been pure bliss to my ears, only to be ripped apart with the realization that she was pleading.

She doesn't answer the phone. I curse myself to hell and back. I should've told her I was coming today. I should've told her I was only two blocks away from her apartment and that all this time far from her had been nothing but torture. There hadn't been a moment when I didn't feel her absence or when I didn't wonder what she was doing. I should've told her I regretted every single word I'd sa-

Something slams against my arm. I fall onto the rough asphalt but I'm on my feet in seconds. The man I'd run into stares at me in anger but I can't deal with his shit right now, so I push him blindly, my feet already finding their footing. "Out of my fucking way!" I yell at him without looking.

I run and run and run until I can't feel my calves and my jacket is soaked through.

Drip

please don't die

drip

Her apartment building zooms into view. I punch buttons and take the stairs by four.

please

stay alive

please

Mustard yellow door.

I don't wait to check if it's open, kicking the lock open immediately.

Things happen in a blur, straight out of a dream. I kneel to the ground, forcing her mouth open. Her tear-stained face spits the pills reluctantly and then she tries to push me off as hard as she can. I knew she'd do this. I just knew it. I had seen the pills standing on the drawer for days, weeks. I knew how she gave those bruises to her body, how she tortured herself by her own will.

"NO! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" I hold her hands down and bend them behind her back but she keeps screaming and it's like all hell has broken loose. "FUCK OUT OF HERE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

I squeeze her hands tighter and I can suddenly hear myself crying, fully sobbing my heart out and then she's crying too and we're both sitting on the floor like two poor beggars with our limbs awkwardly splayed out.

"That's my decision, Jungkook. You can't take that away from me, " her muffled whimpers are heard as I lean her head on the crook of my neck.

I release her hands, which soon find their way around my neck, hugging my body till we fit perfectly together.

"Jojo."

I pull back just a few inches, capture her face with my palms and kiss her like there's no tomorrow.

~ JOJO ~

Do you know that feeling of finally getting home after a long trip, of how your body relaxes upon finding its lost familiarity? That's exactly what courses through my body right now, except that it's multiplied tenfold, to the point of numbness. I'd missed sensing his body beside mine. I'd missed his dark locks tickling my neck, his soft lips, but more than everything, I'd missed having him here. With me.

It's hard to believe the number of things that have happened today. It feels like I'm watching the scene unfold in front of me like a spectator and wonder if it's just a figment of my imagination. And the way he is kissing me..... It feels brand new. Desperate in more ways than one. He morphs our lips together as if they are made of clay and his hands start feeling around my body, begging for some purchase.

I don't realize the fact that I have started crying. Silent tears tumble down my cheeks, wetting his own face with their saltiness. I can't control them. I can't stop them. And Jungkook understands that. He pulls roughly at my bottom lip and suddenly lets go, creating a gap between our bodies. I can't help but feel that I must look like a little child in his eyes right now; grubby, disheveled, teary-eyed...

And then he's looking at me dead in the eye, beyond my appearance, beyond my outer core, cutting through weeds and vines growing inside my soul. "I know none of the things I say will ever convince you. So, I won't be using any words."

He slips my left sleeve from my shoulder, exposing the skin underneath. His head lowers down to it and gives it a feather-light kiss.

I stare at him in confusion but he chooses to keep silent. His eyes never leave my face, even when he starts repeating the action with my other sleeve, rolling my whole shirt up and off my body. He discards each piece with surprising gentleness and that's what makes my tears fall even more violently. He's so kind.

So good to me.

And he's taking off my pants.

I instinctively tense and Jungkook makes an obvious pause, letting me make my choice. The rigidity dwindles away and a flash of relief passes behind his eyes. I close my eyes and then he moves on with his graceful touches. I'm lain down into the bed, my hair fanned out behind me like a halo, and he slowly crawls on top, observing his work of art with a look of genuine satisfaction. His clothes are gone before I can blink and he slowly dives in for the sensitive part of my neck, breathing it in.

"Beautiful," he mumbles against my throat. My body convulses with whimpers. He nuzzles his way up until his lips are meshed against mine. "Touch me, " he whispers.

My breath hitches but I raise my hands that had so far lain on my sides and put them on each side of his face. "Jungkook."

He smiles and my heart bursts into a million fireflies. "I like it when you say my name."

"Jungkook," I repeat.

He drags those sinful lips down through valleys and crevices, leaving soft kisses in their wake, tracing every inch of my skin, tracing every bruise, every wound, every trace of self-harm. I am nothing more than a hot pool of lava. I do not own a body anymore. Or rather, I feel each sensation being magnified into infinity and I can no longer tell where my body starts nor where it ends. I feel too much. I feel everything. And I am not ashamed of this mundane mass of flesh and bones and blood.

I kiss back.

That's all it takes for him to finally let himself go freely. No obstacles. No barriers. I am free of the voices in my head, free of my fears and judgment. It's like we want to devour each other, drain every single drop until it is the only thing our tongues can taste. I don't really care about anything else right now. I wanna forget about it all and just focus on the soft texture of his lips ghosting the skin on my neck and then going stronger and wilder and swallowing it up till I can feel the delicious sting of pain. We fight. We love. We pour our hearts out like a warm waterfall. And as our bodies tangle restlessly with each other, sticky with sweat, I go through an indescribable ecstasy. Something I've never experienced before.

Acceptance.

_____________________

EPILOGUE

I'd never imagine the storm would go on all night but it somehow did. As I lay in my bed, feet tangled up with someone else's, I hear the distant rumble of faraway clouds first thing in the morning. If it weren't for my daily habit of waking up early, I wouldn't have even bothered cracking my eyes open. The sun remains hidden in some corner as the dark gray sky salutes me instead.

I like it. This mood. It's cozy and warm and safe .

I turn my head on the side and almost melt. He's sleeping like a baby. Eyelids relaxed, lips slightly open, an angelic expression on his face. Pretty.

"That's bold, coming from you, " his lips spell.

I lightly gasp as I realize I've said the word out loud. "I thought you were asleep." As if by instinct, my hand slides up into his face, gently caressing it.

Jungkook grabs my whole arm and pulls me towards him, giving the edge of my jaw a kiss. "I was kinda faking it."

I kick his butt with the sole of my foot. "You prick! Stop playing!"

The whole bed shakes from his laughter as he massages his poor backside. "Did you sleep well?" he asks.

I smile. "Mhmm."

Jungkook mirrors my expression, but it somehow looks more devilish on him. "I'm sure you did."

"Shut up, Jungkook."

He smiles again, genuinely this time and turns, facing the ceiling with his eyes closed. "I really like it when you say my name."

"Jungkook," I whisper. A pause. "Jeon Jungkook."

His eyes open. "Yes?"

"You know, the night before I met you, I was about to kill myself."

His body goes rigid, but I continue. " I don't know why I didn't do it. Then, the next day I met you and it was like it just slipped my mind. The thought was no longer there. So I came at that coffee shop every day, hoping I could see you. You weren't some kind of prince charming or anything. It's not like I looked at you and knew we were meant for each other or that kind of bullshit. I just liked looking at you. One glimpse was enough. It made me feel better somehow. It felt.... nice. But the moment we stopped looking at each other it all came flooding back. That longing to die. I turned back to my starting point."

Jungkook's arms envelop me and I feel my bones shatter. "I'm sorry," I whisper, barely a breath.

He caresses my bare shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's okay now. I'm here. It's over."

I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. "Don't leave."

"I won't."

We stay like that for a while, holding each other in our arms and relishing the sweet silence of early morning. Until-

"Hey Jungkook, you know how you're hot and cute at the same time?"

"Don't do it, Jojo. I'm telling you, don't-"

"Hute."

My obnoxious laughter annoys the hell out of him, but he eventually joins me. I smile to myself.

The old back me is me but more different than ever. I want to go through a deep cleansing. I want to throw away all the trash that has been accumulating in my house and my very soul.

A new person.

A new life.

A new me.

I can't promise I' ll make it in the end but I can promise I'll try.

"You know, " Jungkook says, "you turned out to be much more different than I thought you'd be."

I turn his face to him. "Did I meet your expectations?"

He smiles. "No. You exceeded them."

165 notes · View notes

scribbledghost · 4 years

Text

At the End of the World : Part I

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader (no y/n)

Rating: R

Word Count: 7,070

Warnings: cursing, descriptions of violence, blood, gore. It’s zombies my dudes.

Notes: Fuck it!!! Zombie AU!!! I’ve got 2 hands, a word document, and a whole shitload of free time, and I am hereby making that everyone else’s problem! I’m not 100% sure how long this series is gonna be just yet, but I’m aiming for it to be around 30k when it’s all said and done. Gif by Coredrive!

The world had gone to hell.

The world had gone to hell, and it had seemed to catch the express train when it did.

Jack Daniels woke late one night to someone pounding on his front door. He didn’t know how long they’d stood there, sounding like they were trying to break the damn door off it’s hinges, but he did know that it was 3 in the morning and he had work tomorrow and he was pissed. He slid out of bed and trudged his way into his living room, cursing under his breath. He flicked the light switch on with more force than was strictly necessary, then yanked his front door open, hoping he looked ticked off enough to make whoever had been on the other side question what the fuck they thought they were doing at this time of night.

His expression had immediately morphed into wide-eyed shock when he saw that it was you on the other side, covered in blood spatter and tears rushing down your cheeks as you stared at him with a panicked look that probably rivaled his own by that point. Jack yanked you inside, immediately closing the door and making sure it was locked before turning to you and gripping you by the shoulders to look you over.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, what the fuck happened to you?” he said as he turned you this way and that, looking for any sign of obvious injury. He found none, leading him to determine that it wasn’t your own blood that you were covered with. He couldn’t discern if the feeling he felt surge through him then was relief, pride, or white-hot fear. You shook in his hands, and he saw you continuously dart your eyes around his living room as you struggled to form words. He ran his thumbs along your shoulders, hoping the action would serve to ground you and bring you back long enough for him to get a read on what the hell had happened.

“I-I-I went to visit my parents,” you stuttered, “...the lights were on but I couldn’t see anybody in the front window and the door was open, which was weird but I didn’t think too much of it, you know? But I went inside, and… oh god Jack there was just… blood everywhere and they were dead and someone was… fuck someone was leaning over them, tearing them apart, and whoever it was saw me and ran at me and I freaked out and tried to run but they tackled me and I panicked and there was a knife on the ground so I grabbed it and...” you started hyperventilating, and Jack’s hands found your cheeks as he tried to thumb away the mix of blood and tears that had accumulated there.

“Shh, shh, shh, hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anythin’ else,” he said softly. “Why don’t you sit down, I’m gonna get a washrag to clean you up some, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

You nodded, your panicked look still bare on your face. Jack walked quickly to his bathroom, wasting no time in grabbing a washcloth and running it under the tap. Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to leave you alone, even if you were mere yards away, but he knew getting the mess off of your skin would help you feel better somewhat. He still remembered the first time he’d killed someone for the Statesman, and to be quite frank he was a little surprised you weren’t in hysterics. God knows he had been, and he’d been prepared for it.

He returned to find you seated stiffly on his couch, a far-off look in your eyes. He sat down next to you, putting a delicate hand on your shoulder to get your attention before he brought the damp cloth up to your face. Silent tears were still streaming down your face, but Jack made quick work of the blood and gore that had stuck to your features. He moved to your neck and arms next, grateful on your behalf that the spatter wasn’t as thick there and only seemed to be on the front of you. Once your skin was clean, Jack put a finger under your chin to turn your face to him.

“Darlin’, I don’t want you thinkin’ you’re a burden or that I’m turnin’ ya away, but… why didn’t you go to the cops?” He asked. You paused, your eyes casting downward before you answered him in a timid voice.

“You were just the first one I thought of. You do that kind of stuff all the time for work, right? Besides, I… I trust you.”

Jack felt his heart clench at your words as he let out a sigh. He once again stroked your cheek, willing himself to figure out what to do next to best help you out. He knew he’d had it bad for you for a while, the stereotypical girl-next-door crush, as far as he was concerned. But this? Seeing you wide-eyed and shaking in his living room, covered in blood and terrified? It fucked with him. He wanted to keep you in this place forever, away from the rest of the world that had done this to you. But more than that, he wanted to prove to you that your trust in him wasn’t misplaced. That he’d keep you safe.

Jack offered to run to your place next door to grab you a fresh set of clothes. You’d sent him a wide-eyed look that told him that while you’d been okay with him being elsewhere in the same house, you drew the line at having him leave the building without you, even if it was just a couple hundred yards away. He compromised, asking if you’d come with him. Jack knew that you needed fresh clothing, and probably a shower, as he could still see flecks of gore in your hairline, but he knew better than to push anything on you before you were ready. But you’d surprised him by agreeing to his proposal, and had even mentioned needing to get cleaned up.

So he’d gotten dressed and followed you to your place, staying close by as you gathered a new outfit. He’d even sat right outside the bathroom door while you showered. He could hear a faint sound of sobbing over the shower, and had jumped to his feet, almost barging in to make sure you were alright, but he had instead opted to ask you from outside if you needed him to come in. You’d blurted out a “no”, said that you were fine, and just needed a minute.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said, returning to his sitting position on the floor, “I’m right here if you need me.”

“I know,” came your voice, barely audible over the water.

Several minutes later, Jack heard the water turn off, and you shuffled around the bathroom as you dried yourself off and put on your fresh clothes. Jack made his way to his feet again, still resisting the urge to walk in and fold you into an embrace as he heard your sniffles and shaky breathing. It was an urge that he gave in to as he saw you open the door, your hair still wet and your eyes still red. You gripped his shirt as you buried your face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and he heard several deep, uneven breaths come from you as he reached up to pet your hair.

As the two of you stood there, a loud, deep boom sounded in the distance. It was close enough to hear, but far enough away for the shock wave to have dissipated as the sound reached your home. The two of you startled, pulling away from each other to look in the direction the sound had come from. You looked back at Jack for a moment, and he moved towards the front door with you following close behind. He poked his head outside, trying to scan the area as best as he could for any signs of smoke, fire, or other indicators of disaster, but found none. It appeared that the blast had come from far enough away to be someone else’s problem. Jack ducked back inside, letting you know that he hadn’t found any sign of immediate danger. He saw your shoulders sag a bit in relief, and he couldn’t say he blamed you.

“Why don’t you go on and pack a bag for the night,” he said, “I’ll come with you down to the police station so you can tell ‘em what happened, then as soon as they clear us to leave, I’ll take ya home. You can stay with me for the night if you want.”

You nodded quickly, then made for your room to pack your things. Jack once again followed closely, and it was not lost on him how often you peeked around your shoulder to make sure he was still there. It wasn’t long before he was following you out the front door, pulling it closed behind him and turning the knob a few times to ensure it was locked up. He led you to his Bronco, and you quietly stepped inside after setting your bag in the backseat. As he turned the car on, he reached over to tenderly run a hand along your arm. You surprised him then, reaching a timid hand over to grab his. He recovered quickly however, and pulled your clasped hands up to his lips to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured into the darkened car, “I’m here. Jack’s got ya.”

He couldn’t see your expression, but the way you tightened your grip on his hand told him everything he needed to know.

Jack pulled his Bronco out of the drive, and made his way to the main road into town. He knew it would take the two of you a while to get down to the station, so he contented himself with holding your hand and hoping you were calmer then than the last time you’d been in a vehicle earlier that evening. But as he pulled onto the main road into town and the city came into view, he damn near crashed the car.

It looked like the entire world was burning.

The skyline was alight, angry yellow and orange flames digging into the night sky and bellowing out plumes of dark smoke that choked the stars. He heard you gasp next to him, and he looked over at you once he’d pulled the car over and sat silent for a moment to collect himself. At least this explained the explosion the two of you had heard earlier.

“Listen, darlin’,” he said softly, “I need to go check out what’s happenin’. Now I can either take you back home and come get you as soon as I get back, or you can come with me. Which do you want me to do?”

You turned your gaze back to the blazing city briefly before audibly swallowing.

“I’ll go with you,” you said finally, “You don’t need to waste time taking me back home. I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked. He knew what he was likely to find in the inferno, and he was personally of the opinion that you’d been traumatized enough that early morning. But you nodded firmly, a determination in your eyes that was reflected in the faint orange light of the flames.

He nodded in response, gripping his steering wheel with both hands before pulling the car back onto the road. There were no other vehicles to be seen, and if it had been any other time of night than almost 4am by this point, Jack would have thought something was amiss. The drive into the city was tense, and Jack found his hands attached to his steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. About 20 minutes into the drive, Jack could start making out vague details of the destruction. Flames pouring out of high-rise buildings, smoke obscuring the view of anything higher than maybe 10 stories up, and wrecked cars flooded his vision, though he could see no people in the vehicles.

“There’s a lot more wrong here than the fires, Jack,” he heard you say in the passenger seat. He instantly agreed with you as he slowed the Bronco down to a snail’s pace the closer he got into the main stretch of town.

You were the one to spot the first body, letting out an audible gasp followed by an “Oh my god” that was muffled by your hands clamped over your mouth. Jack spotted it not long after, and would have given the same reaction had he not been overcome with a visceral need to force his stomach contents to stay put.

The body – or what was left of it – looked like it had been opened up and picked clean from the inside. There was hardly much left to begin with, with its missing limbs and torso that had been flayed open to reveal a hollow cavity inside. If it hadn’t been for the copious amounts of blood surrounding the body, Jack would have thought that it had been dumped there and animals had scavenged it. Though, if the amount of blood wasn’t enough of an indicator that it had nothing to do with animals, the next stretch of road certainly would be.

He had to stop the car, the road too littered in corpses to drive further. The fire was blinding now, the heat creeping through his windows and roof. Jack found himself grateful that he’d chosen to keep the top up on this drive instead of lowering it like he usually did. With the car stopped, the two of you were shocked into silence. The bodies littering the streets were in various states of… disassembly. Some were as bad as the first body you two had come across, others looked virtually pristine. As if they’d just collapsed among the cadavers and died of shock. Perhaps they had.

That was when he spotted something further down the road. A horde of shambling people, moving unnaturally among the heat and smoke. Jack reasoned that there had to be dozens of them, if not more. Some were shuffling along, heads down and trudging at a slow pace. Others seemed to be more alert, more limber and deliberate in their movements. The sight reminded Jack of something, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what.

That is, until he spotted a figure sprinting across the street, closer to him than the group of people. They moved naturally, like he would expect a person to. He was getting ready to call out to them, honk his horn to let the person know he was there and to run to him. But just as his hand raised to his car horn, he saw the mismatched group of people further away all swivel in the direction of the runner. In a split second, those who were more agile sprang away from the group, hurtling themselves along the street. They overtook the poor person quickly, and as the victim was overwhelmed, Jack’s blood ran cold in his veins as a terrible thought clicked into place.

Pack animals. They reminded him of pack animals. Staying close to their group, knowing numbers would give them an advantage at taking down prey. Slower ones knowing the faster ones would be the meal-bringers.

“Jack,” he was startled out of his hyper-focused state by your hand on his arm and soft voice in his ears, “turn the car around.”

His head turned to you, and he saw the sheer terror in your features outlined by the light of the fire. Your eyes were locked onto the scene in front of you, as he was sure his own had been just moments before.

“Cut the lights,” you said slowly, “and turn the car around. They won’t be able to hear the engine over the fire, but they might get attracted to the light.”

Jack did as you told him, almost acting on autopilot. He wondered in the back of his mind how you could be so calm about what you’d just witnessed. How you could be so rational in the face of the utterly impossible. It wasn’t until he was safely turned around and driving back in the direction of home that he reasoned that you’d probably suffered so much trauma in such a short time that you’d dissociated enough to circle back to rationality. It hadn’t effected you, because your mind and body intrinsically knew that any more shock may very well have killed you.

The drive home was silent, and Jack began formulating his own plan to get the two of you to safety. He highly doubted that your town had been the first casualty of whatever was going on, and if that were the case, simply getting the hell out of dodge wasn’t a great option. He deeply regretted not checking the news the past couple of days that he’d been off work. There had to have been some warning about whatever the fuck was going on. Then he remembered something, and felt a spark of hope light up his chest. As he pulled into his driveway, he cut the engine and immediately turned to you, cradling your face in his hands to make sure you looked at him and understood his words.

“Listen,” he said seriously, “I need you to go to your place and pack a suitcase.” Your panicked look returned, and you opened your mouth, no doubt to refuse, but Jack interrupted you.

“I know, baby, I know, I don’t wanna let you outta my sight either right now, but I need this to be quick. I’m gonna be right next door packin’ my own stuff, I promise. Now, only pack the absolute most important things you own. Stuff like pictures, legal documents, food, medicine, anything you are gonna need to start your life completely over. Because if this is as bad as I think it might be, then that’s exactly what we’re gonna have to do. The Statesman have bunkers for these kind of Armageddon scenarios. I’d be willin’ to bet that’s where a lot of us are headed right now. But I need you to get your stuff, and meet me right back here at the car. I’m not leavin’ you here, I promise. I’m gonna take care of you.”

One of your hands came up to your cheek to cover his. You nodded then, and Jack waited until you made the move to pull away and exit the car before he dared move himself. He watched you sprint in the direction of your house, waiting until he saw you enter and close the front door before he took off to his own. He was glad his own Statesman training had prepared him to instantly discern what was important and what wasn’t in a time like this, and before long he was zipping up his suitcase and taking one brief last look around his home. Jack couldn’t deny that he felt a pang of loss crash through his chest, a feeling of mourning creeping up on him that he refused to let himself acknowledge lest he get sucked into it and not want to leave it. Then he huffed a laugh at himself, remembering a train of thought he’d had months ago.

Damn, he thought, I know I said I’d let the world burn just to be with her, but I hadn’t fuckin’ meant it literally.

Jack grabbed his arsenal before leaving, making sure to leave no spare lasso, whip, pistol, or extra ammo behind. He made a mental checklist of all the Statesman tech he owned, taking careful stock to make sure nothing was left behind. He walked out his front door, clicking the lock into place as he did. Part of him felt silly for doing so, knowing he’d most likely never be coming back, but if he could avoid the irrational dread of knowing he left his door unlocked, he’d do it anyway. He walked back to the Bronco and hefted his suitcase into the backseat. He turned and leaned onto the side of the car, waiting for you to return. Jack had known you’d take longer, as he was sure you hadn’t exactly thought much about what you’d need to take or leave behind in a doomsday scenario. He considered running to your place to meet you there, but he thought better of it, not wanting to accidentally miss you in the dark and spend precious time trying to find you again.

As fate would have it, he didn’t have long to wait before he saw you walking quickly out of the darkness and to him carrying your own bag. He helped you get it into the back with his own, then shut the door and turned to you, putting his hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eyes.

“You ready?” he asked. You nodded and made to leave his hold to get to the other side of the car, but he stopped you.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked seriously. He hoped you could catch on that he was asking if you were ready in more terms than just packed and set to go. Jack had no idea how the journey to the bunker would be, but his time at Statesman had taught him to hope for the best but expect the worst.

“I’m sure, Jack,” you said in a tone that told him you understood. You had seemed to push down your previous trauma; likely a survival instinct, but still beneficial nonetheless. He could help you process it once the two of you were safe. Jack gave you a nod, then leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before letting you go so you could get back into the car. As he pulled back out of his drive one last time, he reached a hand over to you in the dark. The way you instantly took his hand in yours made him almost think that you’d been reaching for him as well.

When he reached the intersection that turned onto the main road into town, he took the opposite turn, effectively leading the two of you away from the city.

“I thought your headquarters was downtown?” you asked.

“It is, but the bunkers were built as far away from any large cities as possible,” Jack explained, “They knew that if shit hit the fan, the cities would be the first to go.” All you’d offered in response was a nod that Jack could barely see.

As he continued driving, Jack noticed that there wasn’t nearly as much carnage and destruction as there had been back in town. He also noticed that the first signs of dawn were starting to creep over the horizon, and was secretly grateful that the two of you wouldn’t be in the dark much longer. Too much shit could creep up out of the dark. By the clock in his car, Jack wagered that the two of you would be at the bunker site at around 6am. He thought about trying to contact any of his associates, to see if any of them had already made it there, but thought better of it. He had no idea what situation any of them were in, and at that point he was convinced that at least some of them were in places where a ringing phone could get them murdered.

The drive to the bunker in the growing daylight was blessedly uneventful. At some point you’d pointed out that the news of what was going on likely hadn’t spread this far yet, especially since it had all happened so fast in the middle of the night. The true hysteria likely wouldn’t start until people started waking up, thinking they were going to work on a normal day before turning on the morning news. If any news stations were still broadcasting by that point.

It wasn’t until Jack was in view of the building covering for the bunker that his heart sank slightly. There were no other vehicles in sight, and Jack subconsciously gripped your hand tighter at the thought that no one else he knew had made it. He tried to reason with his anxiety as he got closer, remembering your words from before. But he also knew that if the lot was empty, then that probably meant that most of the agents who had lived directly in the city were probably either already dead, or were on their way on foot. Judging by the scene from just hours prior, Jack was unfortunately inclined to believe the former. However, a macabre sense of relief shot through him at the realization that most of the people that he had personally known in the company tended to live in the country like he had.

He pulled into the lot, grateful that the surrounding fields seemed to be completely devoid of people. The building itself was made to look like a warehouse for the Statesman, and in many ways, it was. It contained logistics offices and spacious storage areas for liquor that had already been packaged and was awaiting shipment. However, it was what was in the basement that Jack and you were there for. Down past several security measures, there was a giant sealed gateway that led further down into the earth. The area there would have enough space for dozens, perhaps hundreds of survivors, plus fully stocked rations that were replaced every few years to keep them fresh. That’s where Jack’s goal was.

He helped you out of the car, and as you were grabbing your overnight bag and suitcase, he walked slightly ahead of you to get to the main gate. He entered his Statesman ID, and once you’d walked through the gate ahead of him, he pulled it shut again and re-armed the gate As he unlocked the front door for you and ushered you inside, he took one last look at his Bronco. He sure would miss her.

You waited inside, letting Jack turn on any perimeter and building security measures before following him to an elevator tucked away behind some offices and away from any spying eyes. As the two of you boarded, Jack noticed that you’d almost tucked yourself into his side, standing so close to him that the two of you were almost touching, despite there being plenty of room for you to spread out. Jack shifted his bag to his other hand, winding an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him before he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Ain’t nothin’ gonna get us down here, sweetheart,” he murmured, “and we won’t have to go back out for a good long while once we’re in.” You let out a breath at his words, seeming to deflate slightly in relief.

The elevator jerked to a stop, and Jack led you out and into an open room with an iron door at the far end. It was large, likely so multiple waves of people and equipment could be brought in at once, but for some reason Jack had always pictured it larger. He walked up to the door, punched in his ID once again, and scanned his retina and handprint. The lock clicked, and the door began to slowly swing open on its mechanized hinges. He could see the corridor inside leading down into the main area was already lit, though the dim lightbulbs offered little in the way of extra vision.

Jack guided you in, quickly turning to the internal keypad and closing the gate after the two of you. The tunnel itself wasn’t long, but eventually it opened up into a sprawling cavern that Jack guessed would be a staging area once more people came along. It wasn’t hard for him to find the living area that had been constructed, as it was easily the next largest area in the place. Jack had seen blueprints for the bunker when he’d joined Statesman, but he was still blown away by the sheer size of it all. It was as if they’d constructed a full-fledged city underground, if cities were only ever one story high and contained hundreds of small concrete dorm-room-like apartments. He didn’t need to see the medical facilities to know they were kept fully up-to-date with the Statesman’s capabilities, as were the research laboratories there.

Now he just had to hope there were still medics and scientists left to fill them.

Jack walked you to one of the many hallways of living areas, stopping in front of one of the first doors there.

“Well, sugar, how do you wanna do this?” he asked, gesturing to the rooms. “You can have your own room, or you can stick with me.”

Oh, how he hoped you’d pick the second option.

“Can I… can I stay with you? At least for a little while, then I’ll get my own room,” you said timidly as Jack tried to restrain himself from beaming at you.

“Baby, you can stay with me for as long as you want.”

He opened the door to one of the rooms, and was met with a modest-sized bed, a table, and nothing else aside from what was in the small attached bathroom. Jack noticed with some relief that the bed looked large enough to accommodate two people. Not that he would have been opposed to you using him as a bed, but those were thoughts for another time.

The pair of you sat your bags down, not bothering to unpack before you both stood in the blank, empty room, staring at each other. Jack took in your features, his heart cracking for you at every turn. He couldn’t help but notice how tired you looked, and not just physically. Your eyelids drooped, your shoulders sagged, and your head tilted downward in a look that screamed “bone-deep exhausted”. Then suddenly your arms were around his neck, and your face was buried in his shoulder. Jack instantly wrapped his arms around you in return, and the two of you held each other in a bruising grip that could only be achieved by two people who had somehow just survived the end of the fucking world.

“Thank you,” you choked out, “Thank you, Jack.”

“No, no, no,” he whispered to you, “don’t thank me. Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for.”

You pulled back from him, just enough to where the two of you could lock eyes. Before Jack could stop himself, one of his hands found the back of your head to hold you steady and his lips found yours. There was a split second before you reciprocated that Jack feared he had fucked up beyond repair, but as soon as he felt your lips slot against his and your hands settle themselves on either side of his jaw, his mind went blank. The world was dying, but in that tiny room hundreds of feet underground, with you in his arms, Jack Daniels had never felt more alive.

The two of you parted slowly, not bothering to open your eyes as you nudged your foreheads together. As his eyes slowly opened at the same pace as yours, Jack smiled for the first time since he’d woken up that morning. You smiled at him in return, and Jack found himself kissing you again, unable to stop himself from chasing the feeling of being able to forget everything else that had happened and lose himself in you.

The two of you were startled out of your reverie by the unmistakable sound of the iron gate opening again. Jack shared a look with you, then all at once the two of you were bolting out of the room and back to the entry tunnel. Jack’s face broke into another grin when he saw Champ walking down the ramp, his wife Maria and a couple of their own suitcases in tow. Champ let out a triumphant yell as he spotted Jack, and wasted no time in pulling him into a hug when he was close enough. Jack also gave Maria a polite embrace as well, when it appeared that Champ had noticed you tailing behind Jack.

“Well, now,” he drawled, “who’s this little lady?”

“This here’s my girl,” Jack said, putting an arm around your shoulders as he gave Champ your name. “If she hadn’t woken me up at 3am poundin’ on my door, I may not be here.”

It wasn’t lost on Jack how your head jerked over to him to look at him. He hadn’t ventured to tell you that he credited his own survival to your actions those hours prior. After all, if he hadn’t needed to take you into town, who knows when he would have found out what was going on. Probably when he tried to go into work later that morning. He shuddered to think of what size the horde of animal-like humans would have been by then.

“Well then, miss,” Champ said, tipping his hat to you, “we owe ya a great debt. Any other folks here?”

“No, not yet,” Jack said, still keeping an arm around you, “we were the first ones here. I was just about to head over to the comm hub and see if I could get ahold of anyone here or up in New York.”

“I’ll come with ya,” Champ replied before turning to his wife, “why don’t you take these and get us a room. I’ll find ya when we’re done.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then started walking across the staging area to the communications area. Maria stayed with the two of you for a moment, apparently noticing the slightly panicked look on your face at the idea of Jack leaving you alone.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” Jack said softly with a kiss to your head.

“Why don’t you come help this old gal get a room and get unpacked?” Maria offered, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look like you could use a rest, too, dear.”

You only nodded in response, letting go of Jack’s waist as you grabbed Champ’s bag and followed Maria to the housing area. You stole one last glance at him before disappearing around the corner, and Jack gave you a smile and a nod before turning to follow where Champ had gone.

“So what’s the story with her?” Champ asked as Jack entered the hub.

“My neighbor,” Jack said, “went to visit her parents last night and got attacked by one of those… things. Came and got me around 3 in the morning.”

“Not what I meant, Jack,” Champ said.

“Then what did you mean?”

“Well, for starters, I saw the way the two of ya looked at each other. And second, you don’t seem like the type’a guy to go runnin’ around callin’ a random neighbor your “girl”,” Champ said with a bemused smile, “So how long has it been?”

“Uh, well...” Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe...ten minutes or so?”

Champ let out a belly laugh.

“Ain’t nothin’ like the apocalypse to bring people together, huh?”

Jack let out a chuckle as he shook his head. Champ had already gotten to work booting up some of the communication devices, along with some of the generators to ensure they’d stay functional even if the power went out. Jack busied himself with trying to find a frequency that he could tap into to contact any of the other bunkers, just to see if any other one was online. He had no such luck, and when he looked over at Champ, his hat off as he ran an exasperated hand through his grayed hair, he assumed there’d been no luck there, either.

“We’ll keep ‘em runnin’,” Champ said, “just in case someone tries to get us. It’ll probably be a good way to contact the military too at some point. I’m sure they’re all over this shit by now.”

“Do we even know what’s goin’ on?” Jack asked, “We caught a glimpse of it early this mornin’ when I tried to get her into town, but I’ll be damned if I even know what I saw.”

“Best we could gather before we took off,” Champ sighed, “Is somethin’s hit all the major cities, then some. Whatever it is, it spreads quick, everything was fine just a couple’a days ago. Makes people go… rabid, I guess. Been a lot of reports of...cannibalism. But right now, I don’t think anyone really knows what the fuck’s happenin’. We can always tap into the news networks here if you want an update.”

A chill ran through Jack at Champ’s words, remembering how you’d told him about the incident at your parent’s house. He shook his head. He’d seen enough back in town, he didn’t need to see any more until he’d waited long enough for some more information to get passed down. Champ nodded in understanding, then followed behind as Jack left the comm area just in time for the main gate to pull closed again, right behind Ginger, Tequila, and a small group of other agents. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, recognizing them as a couple more techs and medics. At least they’d be covered on that front.

While Champ made his way to them, Jack split from him and made his way back to his room. As he got ready to open the door, however, he heard your voice on the other side.

“It… it seems so silly, wasting space to bring it,” you said in a small voice. You must have been talking to Maria, she had a way of getting people to talk about things like this. “But I… I couldn’t leave it. I needed… I needed to bring something. Something from home.”

“I completely understand, dear,” Maria said, her voice muffled through the door just as yours had been, “it’s important to have somethin’ to remember yourself by.”

Jack turned the doorknob, knocking as he opened the door slowly. He saw you and Maria seated on the bed, one of her hands petting your hair gently. Your suitcase sat open next to you, and in your hands you held a small stuffed cat. At one time it had probably been orange, but it had long since faded to a peach color. You looked up at him with a misty smile, and Maria patted your shoulder before standing up.

“I should go finish unpackin’.” she said lightly, “why don’t you try to get some sleep? Both of ya.”

With that, she gave Jack a look before moving out the door and pulling it shut behind him. Jack moved to the bed, taking her previous place beside you and putting an arm around your waist as he gestured to the cat.

“Now who’s this little fella?” he asked in a light tone.

“It’s uh...” you started, an embarrassed tint to your voice, “it was a gift. From my grandparents. They got it for me years ago, when I was little. Like I was telling Maria, it seems so silly now for me to have brought it. Even though it’s small, that’s still space I could have used for something else.”

“Nah,” Jack said, tucking you further into his side, “I think it was a good idea to bring it. It’ll help, havin’ somethin’ to remind yourself of better times. Now, I think we should take Maria’s advice and get you some rest.”

He stood up, stepping over to zip your bag back up and set it on the floor before helping you off the bed so he could pull the sheets back and help you into bed. You turned on your side to face the wall, and he stepped back to turn the light off, plunging the area in to pitch darkness before coming back to crawl into bed behind you. Jack wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling your back to his chest, curling around you as if to shield you from the world. Shifting the arm around your waist, he placed it on your arm and rubbed gentle circles into the skin with his thumb. After a few moments in the silence, you rolled over in his arms, burying your face in his chest. Your breathing was labored, and Jack knew you were trying desperately to keep yourself together.

“Hey,” he said softly into the dark, “you can let go, baby. I’m right here. You can fall apart, it’s okay. I’ll help put ya back together.”

And fall apart you did. Jack’s grip on you tightened as he felt you start to shake, and he felt the tell-tale warmth of tears seep through his shirt. You sobbed into him, and Jack held you as you did, taking in all your grief and fear and anxiety as you poured it out to him. He ran a hand over your hair, pressing light kisses to your crown every so often. Jack lost track of time, too focused on making sure his full attention was on you. His own experiences with trauma told him that this was only the beginning, and that it would get much worse before it got better. He wanted to make absolutely sure that you knew he’d be there for all of it. After a while, your sobs quieted into hushed hiccups, your shaky breathing interrupted every so often by them.

“I’m here,” he whispered, nudging your head back slightly with his nose so he could press several kisses to your forehead, “I’ve got you. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I promise. We’ll make it through this.”

He felt you nod against him, and once all was quiet again, he felt you pull back and bring him in for a kiss. He put a hand on the back of your head, focusing only on you as he tasted the salt of your tears on your lips. When you pulled back, you laid your forehead on his as you placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

He continued to hold you close in the darkness, the two of you silently mourning a world and a life that no longer was.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #Ghost scribbles #GOD i'm SO EXCITED FOR THIS #i LOVE me some zambos

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