Is a glass of water half-full or half-empty?

You observe the glass, hoping for a revelation or answer — a good distraction from your miscalculations all evening; well, miscalculations in the duration of meeting Jeon Jungkook. Tucking yourself further into your small couch, the corners of your lips tug at the reminder of the boy. The icy glass cools your hot skin, which still remembers the flames he left you surrounded in on the dancefloor.

And those eyes — his always spoke to you without words. 

Eyes smitten and playful all evening, you can’t forget how they morphed into fear and panic when you finally moved on the pathway he laid out for you. Were you wrong to assume he wanted more with you?

“Ah, so stupid.” You slam your eyes shut at the memory, shame heats your cheeks at his rejection — at another loss you’ll need to process on your own. Loss, after loss, after loss. It wears on your bones, empties your soul just like how you empty the glass of water clutched in your hand.

Didn’t matter whether your glass was ‘half-full or half-empty,’ the water will eventually be consumed. Jungkook had a way of overfilling your glass with an abundance of hope; however, you later found out the glass you shared with Jungkook contained holes and eventually left you empty.

No one leaves you empty like Jungkook does. 

Sitting up higher on your couch, you dig your lower back into your armrest, wanting to feel some form of support.

Maybe you should’ve stayed and taken the water Jungkook offered. Wake you up from that drunken state and snap you out of your innermost desires for your friend. You’d probably go as far as blaming the alcohol and the night would’ve just ended from there.

Probably would’ve been a better alternative than pathetically running away. Then again, there was no way you were going to last another second in the venue — not after the way he pulled away.

You know it’s rude to leave in the middle of the party. Can’t even bear looking at your phone since ordering a cab outside the club, opting to place it on silent afterwards. Now, the phone rests heavily on your kitchen counter, begging to be checked on.

You should text him. Tell him you’re safe and use indigestion as an excuse for your abrupt departure — no one would ever find fault in that reason. Another pang of anxiety holds you back from touching your phone. What if he didn’t bother checking on you? Upset with your bad habit of leaving? 

He has all the rights to.

Setting your feet into your house slippers, you’re thankful for the flat cushion after a night of dancing in heels. Bathroom first, then you’ll text Jungkook. The order of events seemed the most logical and definitely not your way of avoiding the inevitable. It’s a solid plan—

You jolt at the series of knocks against your door. Although your building was relatively safe, living alone had its downsides, especially at this hour. The grip on your glass changes and you ready yourself for self-defense. 

Best case scenario? A ding-dong ditcher. Worst? Nope. You don’t want your mind wandering there. 

One eye closed, you peer through the peephole.

The fisheye effect warps your vision, but you could easily make out the person standing facing away from your doorway. The dangly, silver five-hooped earrings were a dead giveaway to your visitor. Felt them graze the top of your hand every time he tilted his head in your touch. Felt them when you wrapped your hands at the base of his nape. They glimmered prettily under the club lights, but they look nearly dull now under your complex’s standard lightbulbs. 

He’s a few steps away, pacing, looking anywhere but your door as if it was the most offensive piece of object … as if your home was the most deplorable place he could be at right now.

And it should be. He should be at his party celebrating his wins and accomplishments, surrounded by people who love and care for him — not on shame’s breeding grounds. Shame nearly has you running to hide underneath your covers, hoping he’d leave if you refused to answer. Rather than give into shame’s call for isolation, your fingers flick the locks and wrap around the doorknob.

“Jungkook?” 

He’s still turned away from you, pacing back and forth in your building’s hallway. No longer styled how it was in the beginning of the night, his hair looks to be run through … whether it be by him or a stranger. 

Couldn’t be you.

Your mouth parts, words lodged in your throat, but you manage to utter, “What are you doing here?”

He lets out a breath. So unstable, you could feel the restraint in his action but he stops in his tracks, head tilting up at the ceiling to will the words.

“Why do you keep doing that?” His voice raises, back still turned to you.

You frown, looking around to see if there was anyone in the vicinity. Definitely not at this hour. Your neighbors should be asleep, which is why you don’t want to make a scene outside your home.

“Jungkook—”

Suddenly, harshly, his back shifts and his body whips around, “Why do you keep leaving me? Is that all you know how to do?” 

You’re standing face to face with his wide eyes and desperate furrowed brows. The hand raking through his hair only showcasing more of the distress forming on his forehead.

Your mind flashes back to your meeting at the milestone party. There was nothing wrong with your departure at that time. A small, but selfish part of you, doesn’t think you were at total fault for tonight’s departure either. 

“Jungkook … please,” you stammer, eyes drifting down to your feet. 

“I-I don’t fucking get it, Pix. I just–”

“Can you come inside?” You ask, looking around once more. And although Jungkook hasn’t made far enough noises to warrant a complaint, you’d rather talk inside the privacy of your home. “We can talk in here. Please?” You plead in a small whisper.

Jaw clenched as he looks at you and over the threshold of your home, he nods.

Citrus, with no more lingering scent of cigarettes, wafts past you. Even if he was upset with you, he’s still respectful in your home as he toes off his shoes at the entryway. He exhales through his nose, finally turning to face you. His jaw ticks, eyes bloodshot for multiple reasons but he’ll blame the alcohol and not the exhaustion of looking for you. 

You can’t meet his eyes, can’t even bring yourself to speak in the comforts of your home.

“You keep doing this.” His voice cracks.

“I-I,” Your own voice wavers at his statement, you fight the lump in your throat as you lie, “wasn’t feeling well—”

“Cut the bullshit.” 

You frown, having never seen Jungkook speak nor act this way towards you. He extends patience and understanding towards you like an additional limb on his body; perhaps, you’ve tested them enough tonight. Still, your own emotions come out just as unsteady and unreasonable.

“You’re being unfair.” You croak.

“I’ve been anything but that, Pix.” He retracts his head, brows furrowed. “You’re the one that left. Like you always do when things don’t go your way.”

Your brows pull together, unable to mask the hurt at the accusation. “What did you expect me to do? You—” Your bottom lip trembles.

“What?” He takes a step forward and you’re once again engulfed in his overbearing scent. The action stunts your train of thoughts, and for a split second, you think he’s almost just as affected.

You’re tired of going in circles, chasing but also running away from what appears to be your own desires.

“You led me on all night.” Voice small, Jungkook nearly misses what you say. 

His frustration morphs into surprise, then guilt at the sudden forwardness of your words.

“I …” His eyes widen at the realization as he chews on the inside of his cheeks. He shakes his head, denying the allegations. “I didn’t.”

“But you did.” You walk past him, lower back leaning against the kitchen island. Arms crossed, you don’t miss how Jungkook’s eyes drop to your breasts pushed together. His throat bobs, hands twitching on his sides as he tries to rack up an appropriate response.

“We were dancing. Having fun.” He reasons. “That’s all.”

Friends don’t dance the way you both did tonight; their touches don’t burn. They don’t leave the party after being deserted from a dodged kiss on the dance floor. They sure as hell don’t stare at you like you’re made of stardust. 

“Okay.” As if whatever happened in the last couple of hours could be reduced to ‘just dancing.’

His throat emits a low growl, patience once again tested. “Why’d you leave?”

Truthfully? There was no alternate reality where you’d stay after his rejection.

Your crossed arms drop to your sides, throat tightening to keep the contents in your stomach from hurling out. You can’t bear the truth, which seems to point at the fact Jungkook has moved on and there’s no more room for you in his life and heart. 

He’s left you behind.

Jungkook fills in the silence with the same words circling in your head, slipping from his mouth now directed at you with an ache you’ve done your best to forget. “You’ve moved on.”

Your face falls, having spent months trying to forget him through hobbies, friends, and even another person, only to find out … nothing’s worked.

Unable to meet his eyes, you mutter, “I had to.” 

“I know.” He says, “I know that.”

The filter on your fish tank acts as a buffer for the silence stretched in the small distance.

“You’ve moved on, too.” You don’t mention the woman you saw in his apartment lobby, too afraid of the confirmation that he has indeed moved on.

He lets out a shuddering breath, head hung low. “I tried, okay? I really did.”

Something within you shatters at his revelation. It hurts to be right, and it hurts more knowing no one was at fault in the aftermath of a heartbreak. 

He drags his hand down his face, fighting the drunken exhaustion and confusion. “Things got better, I swear. But then I see you and I’m just reminded …”

“Of what?” You ask.

He stays quiet. So different than the man who was just outside your door ready to scorn the world. You wonder how he has kept his composure during the times of your silence when all you want to do right now is shout for an answer, resolution … or ending. What was left after this? Was there another title after being demoted to friends?

… Strangers?

You don’t wait for his answer, choosing to fill the gaps of the conversation with your reality. “You don’t tell me about your life anymore. Like … like, I’m some sort of afterthought learning all these things about you after the fact.” Tears falling freely, you sniff and palm away the moisture on your cheeks.

“Pix–”

“Why did you push me away?” From his life, from the kiss … no clarification needed — it all bleeds together anyway. “Did I misunderstand?”

“Pix.” He repeats, eyes crestfallen and exhausted. “You’re with someone, there’s no way I would do that to you–”

“I’m not with him anymore.”

He pauses, drawing in a sharp breath. “Still doesn’t make it right.” Despite his words, you recognize a faint glint in his eyes.

Of course he becomes the voice of reason when this conversation shouldn’t exist among supposed friends. Now it’s your turn to stay quiet, too ashamed for further humiliation and rejection.

“All I do is remember you, Pix. All I find myself doing is thinking of you. Could never stop even if I wanted to.” He shakes his head. Your stomach sinks, an uncomfortable mass lodged in your throat as you process his words. “And I’m so tired of having to remember you.” He looks at you with so much anguish, wishing and begging for you to end this turmoil. 

“Jungkook …”

“I still think about the night at the hotel.” He continues, jaw clenched to stop the trembles. “And I feel so guilty.”

You shake your head vehemently. “You never once did anything I didn’t want to do.”

“I knew you couldn’t be with me, but I still pushed for more. It was selfish of me and I—”

“I’ve always wanted you, Jungkook,” you sob. “You never gave me the chance to make things work.”

Your hands cover your face as you heave into your palms, moist from your tears and breath. Jungkook tilts his head up at the ceiling, furiously blinking away the stray tears he thought he had swore away on the cab ride over to your place.

The buzzing travels up from your fingers to the back of your head. Your body convulses from your silent sobs, mind numbing from all the fog and confusion. Like a bee, refusing to leave you alone, you want to cower away from the source of noise. The buzzing continues for another fifteen seconds, too loud even when neither of you utter a word. It’s impossible to avoid when the buzzing happens from within. How do you remedy this? How do you run away? How, how, how—

The buzzing stops.

Zapped away by a strong pair of arms, the bees stop swarming in your mind, all honeyed scent — all citrus consuming your senses.

Jungkook holds you and it’s the closest thing to the security of your home. Possibly better. Home shelters you from the brewing storm, and as you cry into the expanse of Jungkook’s chest, he holds you tighter, chin resting on the top of your head.

“What are we even doing?” Jungkook mumbles against your hair, voice hoarse and tired.

You inhale into your hands and answer honestly, “I don’t know.” 

He swallows, breathing you in, “I hate this.”

Your heart crumbles again. Was this it? Has to be. He’s finally done and wants nothing to do with you anymore.

Instead of his warmth departing from your body like you’ve grown used to, he holds you tighter.

“I fucked everything up.” He says. “I messed you up, and I’m trying to do right by you, I swear, but I–”

His words are cut off with your arms around his waist. Face pressed into his chest, your tears became another source of darkness on his grey shirt, but neither of you cared. 

“You didn’t mess anything up.” You heave. Months passed, things changed. Time was a marker for healing and forgetting old wounds; though, there were just some things — some people — you can’t and don’t want to forget. 

“I missed you so much, Pix.”

You pull back a little to look at his face. Hurt and longing never needed a competition and there’s no winner when both of you were wounded in the process. The frame had always been a little unfocused and hard to decipher, but you’re both in view now.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” You confess.

He blinks twice, hand now coming to cup your wet cheek. Ache and remorse stretches over his face at the time lost in the absence of one another. He needs to be honest, barring out the truth if there was even a possibility to start anew. 

“I can’t promise perfection, P.” He admits, scared and worried for this potential dealbreaker. 

“I never asked for perfection.” You shake your head, breath finally coming out even. Pausing, you let the reality of your recent failures sink in, “I just got out of something and I don’t know if I’m any good, but I wanna figure things out with you — do things properly. Please give me time.” Please give us time.

You both loosen your hold on one another, but maintain your gazes as your hands finally intertwine. The hold is weak, full of uncertainty of the future, but you push forward, “Please?” You ask again, heart in your hands — no, heart in his hands. You pray and hope he handles it with care. He has all the power to do the opposite, turning your heart to cold steel for the next poor soul.

He doesn’t, though — can’t imagine anyone but him holding your heart with delicate hands if you allow him to. 

Jungkook’s always wondered when the world would bend for him; yet, he’s got the world in his arms right now willing to bend for his sake. 

He nods and the night bleeds into the morning as you and Jungkook sit on your small couch to catch up, mending lost time with one another. The hours of bitterness leading up to this moment was well worth it after you finally taste the hint of sweetness lodged behind his growing smiles. The catch up bounces back between idle chatters to late night secrets until you both settle into the mundane and content.

“Group work is the worst, P. Avoid it at all costs.” He recounts the number of times his classmates let him down on a project this past semester.

You laugh wholeheartedly. “Why’d you think I run this business alone?”

“Smart girl.” He grins, and your body warms from the small compliment. 

A natural silence fills you both at this time, between the chuckles and stares. You think you could get used to this. A new norm knowing you both want to start over with an agreed upon future. The two glasses of water on your coffee table gets refilled throughout the night, but sits empty now. 

Yet, you’re both so full. 

And you realize no one’s replenishing the glass the way Jungkook does. Around your imaginary glass filled with holes, Jungkook always does his best to cover and mend them.

“I’m sorry for not keeping you posted on my life.” Jungkook says, knees brushing against yours. “I was trying to figure things out on my own.” He leaves out the part where he wanted to reach out for your opinion, opting to struggle by himself.

“Could’ve reached out to me. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He nods, lips pursed debating his next words.

“What?” You ask, eyes heavy from exhaustion, but you don’t want to miss a single second with your special boy.

“Mm, nothing.” His trademark dimples make an appearance when he hides away a playful smile.

“Come on,” you push, “Tell me.”

He laughs softly, lips pulling to an embarrassed smile, “Wanted you to notice me, so I …”

Your eyes narrow, doing your best to piece together the meaning of his words. Something finally clicks as you lean back against your couch. You’d never peg someone like Jeon Jungkook to do things out of spite or attention, but you suppose love has a way of making people do stupid things.

This was love, right?

“I know. Stupid and immature.” He shakes his head.

“It worked.” You shrug, returning his sheepish smile. He interlaces his fingers with you, relaxed knowing you had been trying to keep up with his life in secret. 

He smiles, but shortly after dips a little at his next musing, “Classes have really taken up a lot of my time. I haven’t been able to work as much, but I still take on projects every month or so.”

Your expression falters a little, guilt filling your system as he relays this information. You nod, head leaning to rest on his shoulder.

“Does it bother you?” He asks another forward question. He doesn’t sound as uncertain as he did months ago in the hotel, courage coming as he knows your inevitable answer. 

“A little.” You admit.

You’ll get used to this just as Jungkook needs to get used to this too — that sometimes he will disappoint and hurt. Your acceptance isn’t a form of a bandaid over a reopened wound; instead, allowing the healing process to take on whatever form is needed. Eventually a scar tissue will rise over the persistent lesion, granting you the chance to perform better this time around.

Around 5 a.m. your sleepy eyes fight to stay open as you watch Jungkook put on his shoes. He stands up, eyes heavy but with so much anticipation. Realizes the moment the door shuts behind him, he’ll be left anticipating the next time he’ll be graced with your company again.

He comes close, and with a soft exhale through his nose, he presses his lips to your forehead. Breath fanning over, his voice is low and gravelly on your skin, “See ya, Pix.”

Life with Jungkook, again, is ever soft and changing. The effort is there, the pace of the relationship slow as it should be. Jungkook’s main focus is school now and you’re there to support him along the way. You come over to work while he’s studying or in virtual lectures.

He wants you close. Giving you access to his apartment by creating your personalized finger scan into his home. You also give him a spare key to your place, prompted by a recent out of the city wedding you had to attend and no one else was available to feed Gum and Bubba.

On his large couch, you sit on the opposite end as you answer email inquiries. Wedding season’s peaking again and no matter how busy you may get, you’re never too busy for Jungkook. Nothing stops Jungkook from remaining close to you — not even his overly large couch. He’s never too far, wanting your legs slung over his lap as he listens to his lecture through his headphones. His hands mindlessly massage the bottom of your soles, knowing exactly where you’re most sensitive and tired after a long weekend of being on your feet.

You aren’t quite lovers, but you definitely are not just friends. What you’re building with Jungkook takes time. Lots of failing and hard days, but there are just as many and if more, softer and gentler days where you’re reminded this was all worth it.

Things move as they intend to. Like your slow evening walks, shared hot meals, and camera shutters when Jungkook needs to work on his portfolio or an assignment for class. He tags along with you on a couple of weddings to keep you company, inevitably revealing to you that weddings aren’t his thing. It’s good to be honest with these truths — one less field he’d find himself dipping with in the world of photography. But no matter his contempt, he likes being where you’re at. 

His lecture finishes and he closes his laptop on his table, leaning back as he rests his eyes after realizing how long he’s been on the computer. Sure, school was difficult, but it was structured — no surprises. Just an obligation he willingly signed up for. 

You don’t look up from your laptop, speaking as you type up a response to an inquiry, “What’s on your mind?”

He debates sharing his predicament, hands haven’t stopped his ministrations on your feet as if you were his version of a stress-ball. You breathe through your nose when he hits a particular pressure point.

“I have to go to work next weekend.” He sighs, working on your other foot now. “I’m tired.”

“Can you decline or postpone?” You look up, blue light from your screen bouncing back to your face. 

He shakes his head. “Can’t. I signed a two-parter contract a while back and this is the last installment.”

You close your laptop, feet swinging down to touch his fluffy carpet rug as you scoot closer to him. You were aware contracts and waiver forms existed to protect a business and their clients. In Jungkook’s case, the production he signed with was protecting their assets and securing their future projects. It’s a little demoralizing to view Jungkook as an asset, but that’s how business worked. He had to fulfill his duties to avoid legal penalties.

You lean in and it’s a familiar sight Jungkook’s grown fond of these couple of weeks: cheek squished on his shoulder, you look up with reassuring eyes. ‘It’ll be okay.’

Slowly, you’ve grown to manage the unease of his work, ache returning similar to tides crashing onto land. Sometimes the waves hit stronger than anticipated, but smaller and more manageable tides come ashore.

“Just one day, and it’ll be over soon. Then you’ll be free to focus on your exams afterwards, hm?” You soothe, setting the scenario to make the finish line easier to visualize.

“Yeah.” He grunts, not completely relaxed at the idea of having to do something he doesn’t particularly want to, but a job was a job.

“Hey,” you sit up higher, “is there anything I can do to make it better?”

Shouldn’t have offered that because there’s probably a number of things Jungkook can list off the top of his head. His tongue grows heavy in his mouth at the mere idea of having anything he wanted from you. 

“Something sweet?” You suggest, brows wiggling up and down.

“Right now?” Declining was never in the books when it came to desserts.

You shake your head with a small laugh, “Whenever you’re done with the project. I can bring something after.”

“Okay, Pix. I’d love that.” His hand holds yours. “Surprise me.”

Nights were always spent like this until it was time for one of you to leave. He walks you to your car, waving at the kind receptionist on the way out to the guest parking lot. No longer embraced in summer’s sweltering heat, fall’s brisk air hits your cheeks when you both step out the complex. You never needed an excuse to press your body closer to Jungkook’s side, hand lodged deep in his coat pocket.

“Bye.” You whisper, tippy-toeing as you press a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his cold skin just a little longer.

The grip around your hands tighten as he fights off the intrusive thoughts of wishing for your lips to move over any expanse of his skin. There’s no need to deny the fact of having impure thoughts of you … had always been the case whether or not you were with him. It doesn’t help when you press your body closer to his, testing the boundaries of your new relationship with each other. Though, the test always stops where it is needed. 

Passing the test, he gulps, “Text me when you get home, ‘kay?”

“I will.”

Five hours of work and he’ll be free. Considering the masses need to work on average an eight hour shift and sometimes more, Jungkook is fortunate for his work hours to salary ratio. Still not easy doing what he does especially since he isn’t in the right headspace at the moment and school’s been eating up his time — a love-hate relationship when it comes to being in a new learning environment. 

He’s been reevaluating a lot these days, wondering how he’ll juggle his profession with school. And when he finds himself thinking too much of the possibilities, he forces himself to run from those thoughts of quitting everything all together. 

In those difficult moments, thinking about you helps calm his nerves about the future and he feels himself landing back on reality. Not everything needs an immediate answer or decision; moreover, he’s allowed to make mistakes. Much like your relationship with him, the ambiguity doesn’t make him run for the hills anymore. Although you and Jungkook don’t currently have any labels for what you are now, there isn't any uncertainty in his devotion towards you.

He checks his bathroom mirror one more time, piercings taken out because today’s shoot may be a little more physically demanding and he isn’t keen on risking any additional injuries like he had sustained in the first shoot. He signed up for the project on a whim because … well, at the time the money and deal seemed decent. BDSM isn’t something he dabbled a lot in on both the receiving or giving end. However, around the same time he signed the contract, he was still grieving the relationship with you and in need of a distraction — something to make him feel again no matter how painful or rigorous to the body. 

After the first shoot, he needed at least two weeks of rest … both mentally and physically. He isn’t fond of his co-star — Jungkook still remembers the numbers the man did to his body despite signaling his discomfort. 

Locking his door, he makes his way to the elevator. The doors open to reveal a familiar face: Yoona. 

She smiles at him, the lines around her eyes crease from the action. Jungkook nods and steps into the elevator next to her. Her strong perfume permeates his senses; a little too floral for his liking in comparison to the subtle cucumber and jasmine scent on your skin he’s grown attached to. 

“Work?” He asks, looking at his phone. It’s nearly noon, a little late to be going into the office. Then again, what does he know about the corporate life?

“Hyunbin wanted me to visit.” Ah, her ex-husband — explains her appearance and unusual demeanor. He assumes a revenge outfit underneath her long fur coat. “You working?”

“Yup.” He exhales through his nose.

Even without his explanation of his reluctance, Yoona reads him easily … just like how she read him the first two weeks after his split with you, choosing to end things with him because she wasn’t fond of messing with someone who was in emotional distress. She’s already got a lot going on and the last thing she wants is a fuckbuddy using her as an emotional crutch.

She’d rather be a friend or a … mentor? Maybe just a friendly neighbor until he got his shit together.

Be it her years of wisdom or her innate ability to read the younger man, she catches wind of his unwillingness to go to work.

“Hang in there.” She offers, just as her friends regurgitated on multiple venting sessions during the nasty divorce process. It’s the bare minimum as a friend if they aren’t able to do more for you.

“Thanks, you too.” He returns the encouragement with a toothy grin. One of the advantages of being taller than most is his ability to spy over people’s phones. Yoona types away in her phone, the prior messages included a clear image of a male’s lower half and her own response with an image of her freshly showered body in a towel. 

Even with her sunglasses on (which, by the way, are totally unneeded with this gloomy weather), she rolls her eyes under the elevator’s fluorescent lights.

“He’s been begging to make things work again.” She places her phone in her purse. 

“You gonna let him back in?” Surely would lessen the alimony she has to pay him.

Yoona scowls, “I may be single, but I am not lonely.” The elevator dings and signals their arrival on the ground floor. “I can have my cake and eat it.” She smiles, red blooming with her pearly white teeth.

Jungkook laughs under his breath, a surge of sweetness also embraces him now after realizing he also has his ‘cake’ too. Hasn’t quite eaten you the way he wants to, but he’s content. Loves where you are both at and is willing to wait till things settle more in life for the both of you.

Yoona clears her throat, strong floral scent leaving along with her as she steps out of the elevators first. “Take care, Jungkook.” Her heels click on the marble floors as she runs out to the cab waiting for her. 

Jungkook sighs again, making his way to his car and already programming the job site’s address into his Maps app.

Five hours and he’ll be done. 

As promised, you have a sweet treat ready to reward Jungkook after his shift.

It’s uncharacteristic of Jungkook to not answer your texts after a couple of hours. You push away the worry as you make your way up the elevators, tiny brown bag containing something rich and icy you’d typically save for the summer. 

Though, there were no rules on when to consume ice cream, especially if it was made by scratch — especially when you made it with your own spin. Anticipation brews as your steps near the front entrance of his home.

Your fingers press on the knob’s scanner and the latch clicks, ready for you to turn and enter into his home.

The living room’s dark, save for the small light Jungkook programmed to turn on at a specific time. There’s no greeting like you’re used to. Hanging your coat and scarf on the stand, you peer past the entryway as you toe off your shoes.

“Jungkook?” You call out with an air of uncertainty. 

Still no answer. Your eyes adjust to the dim surroundings, eyes eventually falling onto a figure you’d recognize in any condition. 

Jungkook’s laid down on his couch, one arm over his eyes. He’s in his sweats, showered and asleep. Your shoulders drop, tip-toeing past him to put the sweet treat into the freezer. You come back to the living room, not without picking up the fallen throw blanket on the ground, placing it on his body.

You could crack open your laptop to do some work in his kitchen until he stirs awake or just leave and let him rest. Straightening up from your bent position, a sharp inhale comes from below as Jungkook removes his forearm from his face and lifts his head up to peer around his surroundings. He sees you and drops his head in relief, breathing patterns stabilizing with a drag of his hand down his face.

“What time is it?”

“A little past 8.” You reply, sitting near his knees. 

“Sorry, Pix. I crashed.” His throat cracks from sleep, “Time slipped.”

“‘S okay.” You reply, pinkie hooking onto his. “Would you like to rest some more? I won’t bother you.”

He swallows, unsure if he would rather be left alone or if he needed your company. He’s not sure he would be good company.

“I don’t know.” His other arm comes up again to cover his eyes. Misery also needed company too, and he doesn’t want to be away from you.

You seem to get the hint. Couch, stiff and hard as ever, seems to bend at the weight of you both for this moment of tenderness. 

“Hard day?” You ask.

His throat bobs, and that’s when you notice the red marks near his Adam’s apple and his wrist. Your lips tug down, fingers itching to soothe the pain over his skin. You curl closer to him, hoping your presence would be enough to redirect his thoughts.

“Yeah. Was difficult.” He replies, voice shaky. His breath comes out uneven as he sniffles into his arm. “Ah, sorry, maybe it’s better if I’m alone.”

He hadn’t realized a couple tears had slipped out from the corners of his eyes until one of your hands cups his jaw, thumb rubbing away some of the moisture in your touch. He sucks in another breath, chest stuttering as a small sob tumbles out. He turns, burying his face into your chest as his arms come from underneath to hold you.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes repeatedly. You repeatedly tell him you’re not leaving — that you’re here to stay. Fingers running through his dark locks, your touches force his eyes shut, a relieved sigh exiting as he regulates his breathing. 

“I’m here, you’re okay.” You promise, your nails scratching his head produces a soft whimper as he buries his bigger frame deeper into your body. When you try to pull away to assess his face, he only tugs you in tighter. You chuckle, hand patting and soothing the expanse of his back.

“Kook?”

He grunts, too exhausted to verbalize a reply.

“I’m gonna go make something, okay? You stay here and rest.”

He reluctantly loosens his grip on you, and holds onto the fact you were staying. Accepting your proposal, he goes back into a more dignified position with his arm slung over his eyes.

You move with precision; kitchen layout memorized of where all the seasonings and cooking utensils were located, you come back into the living room with a small pot of ramen in under ten minutes. The wooden heat protector clanks onto his coffee table in your descent to the ground. You wince, apologetic for startling him again.

“Didn’t have to make me food, Pix.” He pushes himself up slowly, face contorting in discomfort as he sits upright.

“Wanted to. Come on, have a bite, please?” You had already started rolling the noodles into the spoon, creating a perfect single bite. You blow on the food a little before Jungkook dips his head halfway to receive the food. 

Unlike the painful expression he previously sported, his brows furrow as he chews on the food — a good sign. Nothing’s more healing than a warm meal; a warm meal made with love. 

“Thanks, P.” He smiles, and the parts of him lost during the hours of the shoot are slowly coming back.

“I’m glad.” Your eyes land on his neck first, then over his wrists where the red rings were most prominent. “Did you want to put on ointment? Tell me where you keep your medicine and I can—”

“It’ll heal on its own.” He declines, ready and rehearsed for your concerns. And because he knows there were a billion other questions in that pretty head of yours, he comes clean on his reasons for tonight’s exhaustion. “Co-star went off script towards the end and it threw me for a loop.” He explains, head rested on the back of the couch.

You nod, arms tightening around him. “That sounds awful. I’m sorry …”

He releases another heavy breath. “I-I don’t know, Pix. It’s usually not this bad.”

“What do you mean?” Frowning, you didn’t think you’d ever witness Jungkook in this state: defeated over the profession he willingly chose and stayed for. 

His blank eyes stare off into the distance, zeroing on the corner of his flat screen television. The corners of his mouth twitch, exhaling a shaky breath before murmuring, “I’m scared to quit.”

And despite his discomfort with the subject, he continues, “I … I’ve been thinking about it and it feels like I can’t focus on other things when I have to think about work.” He also doesn’t want to mention the shame he has in quitting, inevitably proving people right that his line of work was not sustainable in the long-run. He doesn’t want to admit he’s outgrown the field that’s built everything around him: his friends, home, experiences, and … you. If it weren’t for his job, he wouldn’t have found you.

But was gratitude and loyalty needed for a profession that brings him more stress and worries?

Though rare, he’s wrestled with these difficult moments in this field, often wondering how life would be if he didn’t need to endure. What version of him exists outside of the industry? He knows what happiness is, but he’s also familiar with the deep dread and disappointment in staying. 

“It’s scary.” You concede, staring off into the same space Jungkook had fixated. “But I know you’ll figure it out. You’re not alone. I’m here with you no matter what you decide on.”

His eyes well up again. He used to think people were crazy for suffering, crying during and off work hours. Now? He’s no different. Change is scary, but remaining the same is scarier. And he’s remained the same for so long, fighting the norms and societal expectations of him.

All this to realize … he’s also just a boy with dreams and aspirations, hope cupped in his hands waiting to be discovered. The industry may be a part of him, but it was never all he was. While he doesn’t know what the future entails, he knows he needs to do something different — his profession does not define his identity.

“Yes, I know.” He lets you rub gentle circles on his bruised wrist, lets you bring up his wrist and blow a cooling breath over his skin before you lay a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”

You and Jungkook remain like this for a while, just sharing each other’s warmth and company until you perk up about the dessert you brought over. He chuckles as you pry open the container and a peek of light orange reaches his vision. Jungkook relishes in the small notes of cinnamon and persimmons hitting his taste buds.

The container of ice cream gets annihilated within fifteen minutes, cold running down your esophagus and tummy, but there’s always a source of heat in your stomach as you sit close to your biggest source of warmth.

Refusing his offer to walk you to your car, you only allow Jungkook to see you out his door in favor of him resting more.

“Thanks for tonight, P. I really needed this.” He needs you more than ever. Holding your hands, he lets his gaze trail down to your lips before he brings them back up to your eyes. He’s been through this route many times, showing restraint because he knows better than to do something too rushed despite his mind and body screaming at him to disobey the boundary you both set. 

As always, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

It’s enough. Because he feels you through the food you make for him, your touch, and your unwavering care.

As you stare up at him with starry eyes, he also realizes:

Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect, but it is with you.

Jungkook completed his first semester of courses with flying marks. With a heavy heart, he decided to stop working in adult filming after another week of mulling through his options. In his resolve he tells himself the decision’s indefinite … subject to change. But ever since he let his agent know of his career change, he has not looked back. 

Though the weather remains chilly, spring’s around the corner. The season brings the birds in the early mornings, flowers blossoming around his apartment complex, and the love blooming in his chest whenever he sees you.

Tonight’s a special night for you. Your cohort wanted to do a little social gathering at a club and you invited Jungkook as your plus-one. He wasn’t planning on drinking, opting to be your designated driver for the night. He looks over at you, eyes sparkly with glitter … or perhaps, you glow more under his stares.

Weather’s still cold, but he knows it will warm up at the venue as the night progresses. He lays his brown jacket on your lap as he drives you both to the venue. You’re so pretty in your skin-tight black turtleneck and gold chain necklace. Upon final inspection in your body length mirror, you made a remark how you looked like The Rock minus the fannypack. Jungkook laughed and tugged you along, mumbling how you looked beautiful and how you were going to be late if you did another outfit change. And while the weather is ever turbulent, jumping between hot and cold days, there’s nothing turbulent between you and Jungkook.

Even though you abstained from changing out of your ‘Pre-2012 The Rock’ fit, you were late with how the parking situation worked out. Too many cars, too little parking options when you were deep into the nightlife district of the city. Jungkook parked at an open lot about a twenty minute walking distance. Terrible, you know. But the trip was well worth it with his company. Had you been alone, you probably would have chosen to order a cab, but you’ve never felt safer in Jungkook’s hand as you both walk down the busy streets on a Saturday night. 

“Thanks again for coming with me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Plus,” He squeezes your hand. “You’re coming with me to my friend’s wedding next weekend. So we’re even.”

“Oh no … weddings are so, so, so awful,” you chide with batted lashes. 

He grins, “It is when you gotta be in dress pants.”

You giggle, staring up at the illuminated neon lights around town. “My classmates are excited to meet you, Mr. 9th-Annual-Shutter-Winner.” You grin, the side of your body presses close to him. You look down at his phone where it navigates the leftover walking distance to the club: estimated time of arrival – five minutes.

Jungkook was nervous. Not as a result of meeting your classmates, but he knew a certain someone was going to be there. Kim Taehyung, your best friend and confidant, will also be in attendance. He’s gotten along with him in the past on set. Eccentric guy, a bit of a Namjoon fanatic, but birds of a feather flock together. Namjoon’s creative, kind, and visionary. It’s only natural Taehyung gravitates towards him in this industry.

Regardless, Jungkook’s nervous. He doesn’t voice his concern when you had disclosed that Taehyung was aware of your relationship history with Jungkook. He would never hold you back on talking about your troubles to your friends because it’s important to build that trust and rapport. He hopes his entire persona isn’t completely irreconcilable just yet with the time he’s spent trying to grow and cultivate a healthy relationship with you.

Once in the club, you make your rounds with Jungkook by your side. Lots of new faces, and maybe a select few that were recognizable as a result of the photography competition. 

“Hey Jungkook, heard you were in the photography program,” one of the judges for the past photography competition, Rowoon, smiles, “I know at the end of your photography program they’re going to request for an internship. Let me know if you need help connecting with a photographer.”

“That’d be awesome.” Jungkook smiles.

Jungkook’s appreciative for moments like these, easy conversations blending in with your life. You’ve been surrounded with good people. Well, good enough for you to want to rekindle and meet up every so once in a while.

He watches you from afar now, a mocktail in hand as he lets the ice melt and lessen the syrupy taste of the drink.

You smile into your cup as one of your classmates animate a pose of some sort — probably from a recent project or client. Regardless, he finds himself smiling too, eyes focused on your figure. It’s all tunnel vision, really, how everything around you blurs and this gooey feeling swirls and pools in the pit of his stomach.

He recognizes this, having experienced this similar breakthrough in the past with previous partners. While the hard impact of the realization came far less than this moment, his feelings were undeniable.

He loves you.

An awful realization to have when you guys are out in public and not in privacy, where he can bare his emotions to you freely. His palms sweat, heart accelerating at the welcomed epiphany and rush.

He has been patient and gentle in these last couple of months. That, he’ll give himself credit for. But all the self work he’s done is about to leave as he’s one mocktail sip away from walking over to you and declaring his feelings.

Not the right place nor time. Certainly worse when he can’t drink to distract himself.

“Mind if I join ya?”

Jungkook startles out his thoughts, craning his neck to the side to find Kim Taehyung smiling lazily at him. He simply gestures for the empty stool, all while trying to relocate you after the minor detractor.

Even with the heavy bass of the club music, Jungkook’s eyes still remain on your figure, making sure you’re safe and having fun — as you should always be. 

Taehyung grunts in his descent onto the barstool, gaze following where Jungkook looks at.

“You all socialed out?” Jungkook mindlessly asks — a miracle he’s strung up a coherent sentence. 

Taehyung scoffs at the lack of focus, but replies, “Gets a little tiring explaining my gigs and seeing them react the same way.”

This time, Jungkook stares back at the seated man, completely understanding his sentiment. He knows exactly what Taehyung has experienced being in the industry — their little common ground. 

“You know,” Taehyung begins, “I still don’t get the whole thing with you and her.”

Lips pursed, he drums his fingers on the bar counter, “How so?”

“Friends, but not. Lovers, but not.” Taehyung tips his drink back. “What are you guys even waiting for?”

What was Jungkook waiting for?

“Just want to take our time.” He replies. “Not trying to rush things.”

“Kind of backwards, don’t you think?” He shrugs his shoulders before continuing, “Look man, I’ll be upfront. I’m still on the fence about you.” 

“I know.” Jungkook’s aware he’s far from perfect, knowing his hesitancy in moving forward stems from his insecurities and his fears of hurting you in the process.

“She likes you a lot. And I trust my best friend. If things go sour, well … at least we’ll know how to pick up the pieces this time around.”

Taehyung waves down the bartender for a refill. “I give her a lot of shit for putting herself in a box, but all she does is try. So why don’t you guys try?”

Jungkook’s been so afraid of hurting. In turn, he’s robbing you both of the possibility for something so much more. He loves what he has with you, but was this enough?

You turn, also finding him, and smile.

It’s not enough. He wants more — he needs more.

Taehyung settles back as he watches the scene unfold in front of him with a smug smile. 

Finally.

Jungkook’s on autopilot as he weaves through the crowd. The back of his neck grows sweaty, less from the stuffy venue and more from his nerves and this final act of trying to do the right thing for once. He wants to do right by you, and right now all he wants is to be near you.

He needs to be near you.

You seem to think the same too, placing your empty glass onto the edge of the bar top. There aren’t any remnants of green or cherries, only a sliver of yellow on the bottom he recognizes as his trademark drink.

His heart drums against his chest as you do a quick side hug with the classmate, so eager to get to him in the midst of the hazy, man-made smoke and crowded dance floor.

The path to you was damn near impossible to get to, packed like sardines and people unwilling to move. Though, you both will always find a way to each other. Head tilted, you motion Jungkook to the side of the dance floor. It’s dimly lit, some of the club’s strobing lights don’t touch. Light’s not needed because you’re forever drawn to each other.

“Hi.” You smile up at him, eyes slightly droopy as your hand finds his. “Sorry. Haven’t been able to hang out with you that much tonight.”

He shakes his head, placing your hand behind his neck. Your fingers search for the longer locks he sported in the winter months, but you’ve always preferred his shorter cut. The prickle of the undercut was something you’ve longed for all night long. His silver hooped earrings graze your exposed wrist, the cold metal offering a nice touch on your hot skin.

He shakes his head, “‘S okay, Pix.” You both sway, neither of you really know what song is playing. It all blurs to white noise when you’re with each other. “Did you catch up with everyone?”

“Mhm.” You hum, leaning in to press your face against his chest. There’s a slight drop to your shoulders signifying your exhaustion, but Jungkook reads your demeanor like the back of his hands.

With a hum, he murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

“Everyone’s in production companies.” You sulk, frown felt on his strong front. 

Your words hold a little bitterness, a hint of dejection at the idea you weren’t exactly doing what everyone was doing. But that’s what made you special. You’re doing what you want to do and you’ve stuck by it.

“You ever think about joining one?” He asks into your hair. 

You lift your head from his chest, chin digging into his sternum. “It’s not for me, but sometimes, I feel like I’m missing out.”

Just like how he thinks he might miss out on something wonderful if he continues as things are, but a club where you’re having a reunion with old classmates isn’t the right time or place for a confession.

Jungkook nods. “Can do whatever you want. The world’s your oyster.”

He doesn’t need any of the strobing lights or a spotlight in the tiny nook you’ve both claimed with the way you smile at him. Not when you stare up at him like he’s the world, ready to be claimed by you. Before he does anything too impulsive, he leads you both closer to the center of the dance floor. Back turned to him, his hands rest on the dips of your hips. Chin tucked in the crook of your neck, he takes in your jasmine and cucumber scent, wondering if you’re just as addicted to his scent. 

“Did you have your usual?” He mumbles into your ear.

You shake your head, shivering from his voice. “Midori sour’s not always on the menu.”

He hums in agreement, thinking back to the arrangements he made at the club he hosted his celebratory party at. Honestly, there was no major issue requesting the addition of the drink; the manager was happy to accommodate. 

“What’d you have earlier?” His voice comes out low, rumbling against you.

You nearly whimper your answer as he circles his arms around your midsection, not wanting to lose any physical contact from you. “Highball.”

His grin stretches across his face, muscle memory as his mouth salivates for the drink. “Did you like it?”

You turn around now, and Jungkook does little to reposition his forehead on yours. This time, another type of restraint courses through his body as his eyes bounce between your hooded stare and pouty lips.

“Mm, I wanted to try what you liked. Not my thing,” you conclude. “Wasn’t sweet at all.” 

Jungkook doesn’t need the additional sweetness in his drinks when he’s surrounded by sweetness in his life. Can do away with sugar because you’re here. 

“What did you have tonight?” You ask back.

“Wild night with some sort of wild berry mocktail.” He teases.

“Lucky, I wish I had that.” Your eyes drop to his lips — he follows your line of vision as you look back up at him.

“Was nice.” He concedes, voice dropping an octave. “Better if it was a highball.”

The music’s loud, but nothing’s louder than the drumming in his ears — the voice in his head yelling at him to close the gap between you two. The same gap you both maintained in these last couple of months. It’s been working so well for you two, reworking your foundation and taking things slow all while hoping it would lead to your desired goal: each other.

Jungkook’s forehead remains on yours, lips parted slightly at your delayed blinks. And although the label had always blurred between the two of you, he had always been yours. Yours, when he entered the establishment with his hand on your hips, guiding you away from rowdy groups at the main point of entrance. Yours, when all you’ve done tonight was match his stares, wanting so badly to be in his company instead of folks you haven’t spoken to in years face to face.

All yours.

“Want a taste?” You ask, making no move to go to the bar. He stays rooted there too, knowing full well he’s not allowed a single drop of alcohol in his system. The entrancement lasts all but a second before a flicker of fear flashes across your features. 

Deja vu.

Was this all a figment of your imagination and it could get ripped from you any moment? If you lean in like you did months ago, would you be punished by rejection again?

Your brows furrow, eyes pleading up at Jungkook to answer your unspoken questions.

And he reads you so easily — remembers you and knows your insecurities before you do sometimes.

He breathes you in, nose now nestled against your own with no intentions of ever leaving.

“Please?” Your warmth fans over to him, a soft plea worthy of ending wars Jungkook would only qualify as his own battles.

He thinks about that night at the club where you had left him, foolishly clutching onto the flimsy cone-shaped cups while the world spun with you nowhere in sight. Thinks about the prospect of you leaving again and how ruined he’d be without you.

Jungkook pleads with you too now, “Please don’t leave me.”

You shake your head. “I’m right here.”

He thinks he deserves a little bit of heaven. Funny, how he thinks the universe could grant him kisses from a million angels, but he’d only want a lifetime of yours. The last thing he sees are two slow blinks from your sparkly-glittered lids, pulling and signaling him into a soft landing: to home — he finally finds his way back home.

He cups your face, delicate in how he holds you because there’s nothing more he’d like to do than to handle you with all the care and tenderness in the world. He sighs into your lips, relieved to finally have you like this. Where you both meet in the middle now.

Highball, in the simplest terms, was bland whiskey. The taste of the drink was probably the furthest thing you can get to the sweetness of your typical midori sour. And yet, you still tried for him. He knows how much you try for him and you’ve done your best to accept him — the work and effort you put into adoring Jungkook never goes unnoticed.

He doesn’t taste the highball, none of the usual remnants of the drink he’s grown to like as he runs his tongue over your plump lips. Perhaps it’s also that he no longer searches for that familiar aftertaste; instead, welcoming something he’s longed for and missed these months. His tongue moves over your lips again, slow and deliberate to savor the sweetness. 

Your mouth parts for him, a tentative push of his tongue and you’re reduced to putty. He trails one hand down your hip, pulling you flush against him. 

It’s all muscle memory, how puzzle pieces fit just for you and Jungkook. He groans against your mouth, the low sound vibrates through your body, sending a shock through your body and heat building in your middle.

Your name is all but a rasp as Jungkook goes straight to your lips again after your small whine. He can’t get enough of you, the background noise and people blurring in his pursuit of you. You kiss him back. Months after months of waiting, slowly rebuilding, knowing exactly where the finish line is … and the kiss now was just one of your many monumental milestones with Jungkook.

He needs to pull away for air, mindful of your own state too despite his unwillingness to stray away. It’s everything he’d expect a kiss from you to be after all this time: sweet, with no hint of the drink he fancied. 

Nose nestled to yours and brazen smiles exchanged, Jungkook does his best to regulate his breathing.

“You’d ever give highball another try, Pix?” He breathes, peppering tinier kisses on your lips, rendering it nearly impossible to properly respond.

“Yeah.” You reply in between kisses. “I’d try it again. It’s worth another chance.”

When he finally pulls away with much reluctance, his heart drums against his chest at your response — at your implication. 

You wanted this with him. 

“You’ll teach me how to properly drink it?” You look at him with the softest gaze.

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Will drink it with you.”

No one was talking about the drink. Though, much like the drink, love and affection was always better shared and experienced together. 

And it’s so much better savoring those moments with you.

You and Jungkook eventually leave the dance floor to socialize with your other classmates, catching Taehyung with a content smile as he peers down at your interlinked hands. Jungkook’s hand involuntarily tightens around yours and you look up, eyes holding a playful curiosity as to what he wants.

You mouth, ‘You tired?’

He shakes his head no, though, his droopy eyelids and slight sway to his body tells you otherwise. You’re also tired too, wanting nothing more than to be with your desired source of warmth.

You quickly make your rounds, bidding your farewells and blaming your age for not being able to stay longer. Thankfully, a couple of your other classmates left before you, so your attempt to leave didn’t look out of the blue. Your goodbye with Taehyung takes a little longer as he whispers something in your ear, eyes playful as you pull away and lightly smack his arm. 

Jungkook smiles once you’re back by his side, the cold night air hitting you both outside the club. He offered to run to the car while you wait back, but you insisted on coming with him. “Ready for the walk, Miss Rock?” 

With narrowed eyes, you huddle closer, pretty pout on your lips he so wants to kiss. 

“You said I looked great.” You huff, beginning the long trek back to the car. 

“The Rock looked great, and so do you, Pix.” He teases.

Three minutes into your walk, a random downpour starts out of nowhere. 

Jungkook takes off his brown jacket, slinging it over both your bodies as you do your best to run from the rain. Shared incredulous giggles and glances with each other made the trip back even better. Unable to fully avoid the downpour, Jungkook opts to just cover you with his jacket. The theatrics continue once a car passes, wheels producing a splash over your bodies.

Unneeding of the jacket now, you lower the jacket around your shoulder, tugging Jungkook through the rain as you both near the car. He looks at you from behind, catching your stare back while urging him to move quicker. 

But he’s in no rush.

He’s never been in a rush with you.

Steps coming to a halt, you look back again with a questioning expression. His hair’s matted on his forehead, eyes squinting from the rain water, but he can see you so clearly under the yellow of the streetlights.

He says your name, your steps stumble as you land in his embrace. Cold fingers run on your cheek before he admits, “I don’t think I can just be what we’ve been. I want this with you — I want to be with you.” 

He doesn’t ask you if you want the same. Didn’t have the chance as his eyes widened the same moment your lips met his.

Rain beats down on your bodies, hard and punishing. The cold water seeping through your clothing is nothing compared to the heat searing from your bodies. Your fingers run through his hair from behind, urging him closer if it were possible. His hold on you tightens and you unconsciously arch into him, no longer caring how the rain water runs down your face.

Jungkook breaks apart from the kiss, “It’s always been you, P.” Warm breath on your lips as he utters words he's long realized and wanted to tell you, “I … I’m in love with you.”

It’s freeing. Not just his confession, but how the rain continues washing out everything around you both. The good, the bad. The aftermath of a storm allows for rebuilding — for flowers to blossom, for growth and to start anew.

He thinks about all the time spent together and apart — the happiness, trust, and fears … it all inevitably brings him back to you. And as the rain waters continue to fall, he finds himself free falling into your embrace — the easy love.

“I love you,” You profess, brows pulling together tears mixing in with the rain, “So much. You know that, yeah?”

He does. But even so, he still asks, “Please be with me.” He chews on the inside of his mouth, so fearful of rejection as though you could choose any other route. “Please?”

You nod, leaning in for a kiss that could only seal your answer to him. “I’m yours. Always been yours.”

A relieved chuckle stutters from his chest, holding you close. “Home?”

“Home.” You reply.

Jungkook’s home was closer in proximity, so it would only be natural to head over there to change out of your soaked clothes. Even with the seat warmers turned onto the highest setting and his jacket slung over your lap like it was in the beginning of the night, you shiver and shudder in your seat.

“Can use my shower too, P.” He pushes his wet bangs back and reasons, “Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Mmkay,” Your teeth involuntarily chatters, hands tucked in between your thighs underneath his jacket to retain your heat.

His hand naturally finds yours. “We’ll be home soon, ‘kay?”

Back at his home, he gives you a spare t-shirt with some sweatpants, letting you know that he’ll shower at the guest bathroom while you use the master bedroom’s. It’s not your first time in his bedroom, having been there a couple times when he was busy and needed you to retrieve something for him in there. The citrus scent embraces you as you walk in, fingers tightening around his clothes. He’s fumbling around his dresser to get his own clothing, hair dried to a damp mess and coarse at the ends from the washed away hair products. His shirt drags over his large frame, seemingly heavier around the shoulder area from the rainwater.

Back still turned away, he cranes his neck to you and catches your curious stare. “Go on and use the shower, P.”

You nod, clothes feeling unbearingly tight whether it be from the rain or the suffocating dilemma of not wanting to leave Jungkook’s side.

In the shower, he’s still with you through the shampoo and body wash. You run your hands around your body, knowing this is your way of keeping him close. Will you need to go home after this? Does the mirage end here with the suds of soap pooling at your toes?

Does it end with his scent on your body?

All dried and in his clothes, you stare at the mirror, a small smile playing at your lips at the visual of your body drowned in his oversized t-shirt. You roll the bottom of the sweatpants and tug at the drawstrings to secure around your waist.

You peer into his bedroom. “Jungkook?” No response. 

Walking out to the living space, you notice a tuft of hair on the large couch’s armrest. Two glasses of water — all full — just like your heart, rests on the coffee table. Peering over the couch, your lover lays there, eyes closed with a rhythmic breathing pattern nowhere close to being asleep.

You come around and seat yourself on the edge of the couch. An unsuspecting force pulls you down, followed by a small ‘oomph,’ you attempt to sit back up.

“Can we rest a little before I take you home?” He mumbles, breathing into your hair.

Your ear is pressed against his chest, his heart thumping way too fast for rest. Working up your courage, you snuggle into his warmth as you murmur, “It’s late. Don’t want you driving at this hour.” Before he could ask if you’d want him to fetch a cab, you follow up with, “If it’s okay … can I stay over tonight?”

The drumming in his chest speeds up, but his words come out assertive. “Of course, P.”

The guest room sits empty as Jungkook leads you back to his bedroom, a sleepy smile on his face as he catches your yawn and places the glass of water onto the nightstand closest to where you’ll sleep. He hooks his index fingers in the collar of his shirt and yanks it over his head, tossing the article of clothing on the ottoman near the foot of his bed.

You swallow, eyes raking over his toned body you’ve grown so familiar with. His tattoo lines look darker under the warm hues of his nightlight. Underneath his covers, your eyes fight to stay open, only allowing them to blink shut when he encircles his arms around you.

“Night, P.” He mumbles.

“Good night, Kook.”

Around 5 a.m. you wake up with the worst case of dry mouth, having already drank the glass of water in the middle of the night, and another time Jungkook refilled without your knowledge. You pout at the glass sitting pretty and empty on the nightstand.

There’s an unfamiliar weight on your midsection causing you to suck in a breath as you look down. Intricate patterns and faded colors greet you before you turn your head to meet their owner.

Jungkook’s on his front, pouty mouth parted and lashes kissing the top of his cheeks. His rhythmic light snores tell you he’s still in deep slumber if not for the sleep-lines on the side of his face where he buries himself further into his fluffy pillows.

There’s a stillness in waking up next to Jungkook like this — at the realization there’s no need to run or leave. He’s here within a distance you can comfortably reach. 

You think back to last night, between the kisses and confessions, everything seemed like a dream. You’re tempted to reach over to brush away the strand of his bangs. Want to see if he’d stir awake and look at you as he did before you both fell asleep last night.

That’s the funny thing about love — can’t bear the selfishness and greed of your own desires. So instead, you do your best to uncurl from his lazy hold, already missing his warmth as you grab the rims of your glass to fetch some water.

You’ve only been over in the afternoon and evening, never knowing the brisk morning air. Jungkook’s room was warm, temperature maintained by the heat of your bodies, but in the open living space, you shiver a little from cold and the absence of a familiar body.

Glass refilled, you make your way back to Jungkook, but something pulls you to an abrupt stop.

You’ve only seen this view at night, always curious how differing the morning view would be. Orange peeks and greets you on the horizon, begging for your presence even when there is another star you rather be with.

Just a couple more minutes and the sun will rise — a view you’ve never seen from here. Lips nursing on your glass, you smile as you hear another pair of feet shuffle in your direction. Not subtle at all. He makes his presence known with a small yawn, standing behind you, he presses his chest against you from behind and wraps his arms around your abdomen.

“Whatcha doing up so early?” Voice laced with sleep.

“Wanted to get water,” you bring the glass up to his view, “sun’s about to rise now.” You nod at the window. 

His body vibrates against yours at a particularly low chuckle. “‘S nice, isn’t it? Can see everything from here.”

You hum in agreement. You love the view, love his touch, love him. And because you love him, you give him the remainder of your water. Glass now empty again, he sets the cup on a small stand. The surrounding air stifles as a strong pair of arms wrap around you tighter, cluing in a shift in the easy morning conversation.

“P, I meant everything I said last night.” He says, afraid you hadn’t retained any recollection of last night’s event — as though all the magic last night was all but a trick and illusion.

There’s no illusion in your adoration for him, turning away from the sun, you realize you have everything in front of you worth orbiting for.

“I meant everything too.” You reply, feeling the sun warm your back, but even that source of warmth wasn’t enough incentive to have you turning away from Jungkook again. “I love you. Wanna be with you.”

You tip-toe, lips pressing delicately against his only spurs on his tiny moan as he meets you in the middle. His teeth nibble on your bottom lip, causing you to part them with a small gasp. He takes this moment to lick into your mouth, tongue running against yours to savor you. He could blame the morning wood on … well, the morning, and not your soft lips, but he’s wanted you like this for so long and now you’re finally his.

He angles your chin, doing his best to distract you from the bulge pressed against your stomach, to which you also push against. Grunting, he huffs into your mouth, “Pix, please.”

You hum a small ‘what?’

So dangerous of you to push something he’s been suppressing for months. Aching for your touch, but he’s respectful of the change in dynamics. He wants to be respectful now, but was there a need?

“I’m trying to be good.” He mumbles, kissing along your jaw and making his way down your neck. His teeth rake against the expanse of your skin, reveling in your shivers and the way your nails dig into his back.

“You are good.” You sigh prettily. “So good to me.”

And because of this, Jungkook wants to show you other ways he could be good to you. It’s what you deserve — nothing makes him happier than making you feel good. Back pressed against the glass panes, the initial cold morphs and changes with the sun and your combined body heat.

His hand snakes up your shirt, large palm halting at your stomach until you nod for him to move. You moan at the contact of his thumb moving over your hardening bud.

“Feels good, pretty?” He mouths against your neck.

You swallow and nod, “J-Jungkook, can people,” another moan slips as he sucks on a particularly sensitive juncture of your neck, “see us from here?”

Being on the thirty-fourth floor had its perks and advantages. He doesn’t have next door neighbors except for the floor above and below him, which works in his favor. 

“No one can see us, P.” He shakes his head, “You want them to?”

He grips your chest a little harder, urging for an answer before he continues. Head lifted to your face, his hooded eyes draw you in. 

“No,” you place a soft kiss on his jaw, “Want this just between us.”

He also can’t imagine having another person watch you both. Can’t imagine sharing an experience like this with someone other than you. 

“Yeah, it’s just you and me.”

The hand on your hip runs up your front, cupping your cheek first before he slips a soft request while looking at your lips, “Open, please.”

Your mouth parts, and his hand drags over your cheek, his middle and ring finger probing and sliding over your wet muscle. His cock twitches in his sweats at the thought of possibly feeling your mouth again. Those thoughts break the moment you close around his digits, warm and wet around him. Your cheeks hollow without command as you eagerly suck on his fingers. You look at him with determined eyes, fighting to stay open but loses the battle before fluttering shut when his thumb runs over your hard nipple again.

“Gonna make you feel good.” He promises, “‘s that okay?”

You nod, unable to verbalize a response with his fingers in your mouth. Soon his wet fingers slip out of your mouth and he slips them past the waistband of your folded sweats.

“Oh god,” Your hips buck back from the sudden contact of his fingers, ass pushed against the glass. “P-please.” You beg, unsure of what exactly but Jungkook takes it as a request to move. His middle finger slots perfectly between your wet folds, circling around the bundle of nerves. 

“Wanna touch you, too.” You plead, “Can I?”

He tips his forehead against yours, hips pushed against your hand. “Uh-huh, want you to touch me.”

Your hand slips into his sweats, making contact with his bare length. The angle of your bodies makes it difficult to tug or squeeze as you like, but he shudders just by the mere contact of your soft hand.

“P, don’t—” He moves back slightly to peer down at your hand working over his length. “Don’t tease.” 

Lip tucked between his teeth, his own hand speeds up over your clit, wet sounds growing by the second. He hopes you do the same too, but you keep your lazy strokes, watching him with hooded eyes. “Not,” you pause, eyes closing when he nears you, pressing a dainty kiss, “teasing.”

“Tell me what you need.” You murmur against his lips.

“Faster,” He whines, “need you to go faster—fuck—” He groans when you comply, hand picking up the pace.

And be it from the patience and time endured after months of dreaming of being with you … or he was just that easy, he finishes in his sweats in under a minute. Your hand slowly jerks over his length, hand coated in his cum.

“Koo, did you cum?” You breathe, unsure from the sudden liquidy warmth. He moans a small yes, angling his head for your kisses on his neck, teeth dragging over his collarbone as a reward for his confirmation. Your hand glides over the head of his sensitive cock. “Made a mess all for me.”

He kisses you, deft fingers on your clit as he touches away the embarrassment of cumming before he’s gotten to properly take care of you. It’s no give or take situation, but he wants to give back to you.

He removes his hand and you nearly cry out at the loss of his touch. Your cum covered hand gets tugged from his pants at the same time. Doesn’t care you’re unconsciously wiping away your hand on your shirt — everything was going into the wash anyway, ridding any evidence of the sinful acts you’ll both willingly partake in.

How sinful were they if they were embarked by two people in love? 

Fingers hooked on the waistband of your sweats, he drags them down your hips, leaving both your soaked underwear and pants pool at your ankles. His eye contact never wavers as he drops down on his knees, only breaking at the long shirt length covering your bare cunt. With a knowing glance, you hold the bottom of the shirt, while the other one falls on the side of his head for support as nudges your legs apart. 

“So perfect,” he praises, eyes peering up at you, “All mine.” His fingers form a ‘v’ as he spreads your glistening folds, mouth watering at the sight of your twitching clit. He moves in, placing a kiss on the side of your pussy, just shy of your nub. The action has you furrowing your brows, mouth dropping open as you involuntarily push your hips forward.

You mewl, thighs closing when he finally slots his tongue over the self-made opening between his fingers. He licks, sucks, and kisses the tiny nub. And you stand there, taking everything he’s willing to give you. He loves watching you struggle maintaining eye contact, loves the shy smile you give him when you had a moment of realization of how loud you were in the early hours of his home, and loves the small tug from your fingers in his hair when he repeatedly presses his lips to your clit.

You were already so close before this, but now he has you tipping on the edge again. Jungkook’s eyes close, tongue lapping your cunt.

Your thighs shake, breath caught in your throat as he continues the motions. And even though he’s not looking at you, he knows you’re about to let go as you rock your hips into his face. Using one hand, his fingers dig into the back of your thigh as he brings one of them over his shoulder.

“Baby–” You rasp.

“Hm?” He answers, muffled against your core. The vibrations against your cunt have your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lids slam shut from the sensation.

You whimper, stomach clenching at the first signal of your orgasm. Your fingers clutch pathetically at the end of the shirt, mindful of the other hand interlocked with his locks. But you’re bolder now, know what you like and need … and what you like is Jeon Jungkook moaning against your core, encouraging you to cum. What you need is to extend this feeling for as long as you can, so you push his head closer as you grind your spasming cunt to his face.

“Cumming,” you manage to get out, “Oh fuck, I’m cumming.”

Jungkook can’t answer, wishes he could; though, all his wishes are being fulfilled as he’s head deep between your legs. He pulls away after your hips press back against the glass, signaling your sensitive state. Hooded gaze fixed, he takes in the visual of your cheek pressed onto your shoulder — a habit he’s noticed every time you’ve cummed. Your eyes blink open slowly, blinded by the light coming in from the rising sun.

“I’m sorry, P.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all with his mischievous grin as he kisses your inner thigh — the one he has thrown over his shoulder. “You missed the sunrise.”

You croon, a small playful pout on your lips. “I did.” You release his hair, hand cupping his jaw. You moan in surprise when he latches onto your clit again, lazy sucks as he peers up at you.

He places one last kiss to your nub and suggests, “Should turn around then, take in the current view.” He leaves out the fact that you’ll have plenty of more chances to see the view.

He places your leg down. While wobbly at first, you plant your feet sturdy before complying with his request. He’s right — the city’s beautiful. 

Jungkook also has the best view in the city too. 

You look back at him from your shoulder, eyes catching his, “You’re not watching with me?”

“Perfect view here.” He scoots back a little, ignoring the discomfort and numbness in his knees. You brace against the glass, fist clenched tightly at the anticipation of what your lover wants to do. No one cares about the prospect of a stained glass as you hinge your hips out to him, the underside of your wet pussy entrances him.

He pushes your shirt up over the curves of your hips and the sight before him has his cock hardening in his sweats again. A creamy white sheen trickles down your slit, begging to be licked up before it dribbles onto the floor.

And he does. With a cock to his head, he slots his mouth over your leaky cunt.

You wail, cheek pressed against the glass as you fog up a small section with your warm puffs of air. His tongue laps over your clenched hole, pleased you haven’t pulled away from him. He rewards you with a small probe of his tongue and you surprise him again by pushing back, tongue gliding into your warm cavern with little resistance.

You both moan, caught in the euphoric moment of this new experience. 

He reels his head back, spreading you wide to look at your gaping pussy — all his doing.

“Please,” you beg, greedy for his mouth. Without warning, he dives back in, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole with a new profound hunger. One of his hands comes from under and rubs at your clit. The new feeling has your legs shaking again, your hand coming around to place on top of his to ground yourself.

He pulls away, placing wet kisses alongside your thighs. “You liked that, Pix?”

“Yeah, I loved it.” You reply, looking back at him through your lashes.

“Good.” He chuckles, stomach warm from your confession, “Keep looking at the view though. Sun’s pretty today.”

The sun’s pretty every day, you think to yourself as you look at your source of light. But you turn away, obedient as you look at the rays the rest of the world relies on. 

“Gonna do something new, ‘kay?” He says, strained as he places a small kiss on one of your cheeks. He lets his teeth graze your skin, fingers digging into the meat of your ass to gain your confirmation. “Tell me if you don’t like it.”

You nod, can’t think of anything you won’t like aside from being away from Jeon Jungkook, but you’re sure to vocalize any discomfort for whatever journey he’s about to embark with you.

“Open wider for me.” He husks. You comply, feet shuffling apart as you hinge lower. 

You couldn’t predict what he wanted to try with you, certainly not anything remotely close to how he parts your ass and you feel his breath on your skin before he leans in.

You nearly cry out at the first lick over the tight ring of your asshole. There was an adjusting period, one that involved your breasts pressed hard against the window, mouth hanging open as Jungkook goes in for another lick.

It’s not unpleasant. New, like he mentioned.

“You taking in everything, P?” His finger slips over your cunt, long index finger teasing the entrance. He takes his time running his fingers between your wet folds, watching your bleary eyes struggle to stay open. It’s fine. You’ll have plenty more opportunities to see the view in the future — he’ll make sure of it.

You moan at the feeling of his finger probing the entrance of your pussy, hole clenched around nothing as he continues teasing you.

“Hm? Answer me, pretty.” His tongue teases around your taint. This time, you relax into it, even going as far as pushing back.

“Mhm,” you try, “‘s pretty.”

You have your head turned again, watching him the best you could, completely unfocused from the view beyond the massive curtain wall. A wrecked moan escapes the moment his long digit pushes into your sensitive cunt — just up to the first knuckle, nothing more. At the same moment, his tongue guides itself past the tight ring of your hole.

You don’t know what to focus on: his tongue fucking into your ass or his finger coated in your arousal as he has you plugged up on both holes simultaneously.

Jungkook’s always been an ass man, and he honors the title as he continuously dives his head between your cheeks. The finger inside your other hole stays in place, never pushing another inch until you whine and reach between your legs. Your fingers touch the top of his, pushing at them to sink deeper into your pussy.

He pushes his digit into you, the full length wrapped around your wet walls. “Do what you need to make this feel good.” He says. “Want you to feel good.”

A content sigh leaves your lips as you rub slow circles, pleasure building again in your stomach as each minute slips by. You’ve never been one to cum multiple times … unfortunately, you’re no better than a man. One and done type of girl, but the eagerness to cum again from this new experience has you motivated and greedy for more. Especially when the experience is with someone you love and care for.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum again.” You announce, pushing your ass back to his face as he continues fucking his tongue into your ass. He groans and nods, picking up the pace from behind with fervor at the mention of your orgasm.

His finger gradually speeds up, curling a little before he decides to add another finger in. 

Oh.

“This okay?” He asks as he senses a change in your demeanor at the sudden intrusion.

You whimper, body stiff and rigid during the adjustment period. The stretch has you halting before you’re rubbing feverishly against your clit, babbling and begging for him to move faster. 

Jungkook’s lucky on the thirty-fourth floor. So lucky no one’s able to hear the the sounds you make both from your mouth and wet cunt as he fucks his digits faster as requested. He curls his fingers and your legs start shaking, your hand no longer able to move as you take everything Jungkook gives from behind.

You gasp, his name falls from your lips as you let go. There’s definitely an imprint of your mouth and cheek on his glass window now, memoirs of the acts you both committed. 

The wetness grows between your legs, both holes pulsating as you finally cum around him again. Jungkook groans, letting you ride out your orgasm as you need.

He removes both his fingers and tongue from your holes and parts your ass to marvel at the mess you’ve made. The puffy ring of your ass shines with his spit, while your pussy quivers from the aftermath of your strong orgasm. He thinks about how it would be if you were stuffed full of him right now, but he’s in no rush with you. Knows there’s no time constraint to loving you right this time around. Your shirt drops from the curve of your hips and down to your knees as you stand upright, turning and pressing your back to the glass again. Jungkook stands up, fingers already in his to lick up any remnants of cum. 

His arms wrap around your waist to hold you up, forehead touching yours as it’s meant to. Doesn’t go for a kiss no matter how much he wants to because he’s not sure of your aversion after where his mouth has been. But you don’t care, looping your arms over his neck and slotting your lips over his for a messy kiss, eventually reduced to small pecks.

“You okay, P?” He asks with round eyes. You nod and ask the same in a hushed whisper.

Why wouldn’t he be when he’s got all he’s ever wanted in his arms? He rubs over your back in a soothing motion, “More than okay, P.”

More kisses are shared, until Jungkook murmurs how he’s still tired and wants to go back to bed. You look at the clock and as tempted you are, you hum and shake your head. His eyes widen at your response, about to offer a quick retort, but you beat him to it.

“You said you had registration for the upcoming semester in a couple hours. Didn’t you say you needed to work on a schedule?”

He tips his head back, both grateful and upset at your memory after he mentioned it to you in passing last week. 

Still, these things can be done while in the comforts of his bed and your company. Hand enclosed in his, he tugs you back to his bedroom, no longer omitting the same warmth when you left.

But perhaps, the warmth was anywhere you were with Jungkook.

Saturn takes twenty-nine years to complete its cycle. When you turned twenty-nine, you thought your Saturn was still out there, taking their sweet time with the journey back home.

“Pixie?” 

“Coming!” You call out, finishing the last touch of your dusty-pink blush. Smoothing out your sage-green dress, you do a small once-over in your mirror before properly greeting your boyfriend. 

Your Saturn’s returned, watching you embark on your new adventure, cheering you on through your wins and losses. Jungkook smiles from the doorway, leather dress shoes placed neatly on the side. His hair is styled as he would for all the wedding events he’s gone to with you, but this was a new suit. Usually in black, the light grey suit brings out his dark features even more — boyish charms emulated with his suit jacket off and hooked on his fingers over a shoulder. The brooches on his vest glimmer on the side, adding a nice finishing touch to his wedding guest look for the evening.

He shines either way when his orbs land on your features, taking in your soft curls and dress you’ve chosen. 

“Pretty.” He’s kind enough to not kiss you, seeing you’ve just freshly applied your lipstick, but you’ve never been opposed to reapplying. You tip-toe to plant a soft kiss, not enough to transfer any product, but enough to tempt him for further damage.

“You look very handsome.” You say, hands automatically coming up to fix the angle of his tie. Spring’s weather is ever unpredictable and today’s one of the more warmer days of the week, but the temperatures rise in the small nook of your home as he stares at you.

To avoid any potential deterrence, you move behind him to get to your shoe rack. He presses his back against the wall opposite to you, watching as you crouch down to pick out a strappy nude heel.

“What if we skipped the wedding, Pix?”

You pout, blowing at the random strands of hair in your peripheral. “Your friend would be disappointed. Plus, we both got all done up. Would be a waste if we didn’t go.”

“It’s not a waste,” he replies, “can just have a night in.”

“Also would give me an excuse to get out of these dress pants.” He adds with a scowl. 

You lean away, doing a double take on the slacks he has on. You’ve always fancied a guy in dress pants and Jungkook was no exception. Loves how his thighs fill up the spaces and how his ass looks in them.

“Couple hours and we can have a night in.” You reassure with a soft smile. “I’ve got a watermelon in the fridge waiting for us.”

The wedding was standard, especially with it belonging to someone you don’t know. Technically most, if not all, weddings you’ve gone to have belonged to strangers. But there was something special about this wedding — it’s the first time you attended a wedding with Jungkook where you aren’t working.

Weddings have always felt magical; the usual string of fairy lights and flower arrangements appear even more enchanting tonight. And you realized, the enchantment started months ago at Yoongi and Hoseok’s union.

During cocktail hour, he made sure to get all your favorite finger foods without request. When the ring bearer and flower girl comes into view during the ceremony, he’s quick to move higher on his seat, letting you peer past him to get a better look at the little ones. And when he holds your waist during the reception’s dance, you know weddings are magical because the moment’s shared with him. 

“This was nice. Thanks for having me as your plus-one.” You sigh in content, cheek rested on his chest as you both slow dance to When a Man Loves a Woman. 

He snorts, lighthearted and warm. “I’m glad you enjoyed.” Meant as a sarcastic remark, he also agrees this evening was a lot nicer than he had anticipated in the month leading up to this day. 

“I really love weddings.” You mumble to yourself.

He loves weddings with you. Jungkook presses his cheek on the top of your head, “I know.”

You and Jungkook stay like this for a while through a couple slow songs until the DJ changes up the genre of the music, signaling older couples to evacuate the dance floors for the younger crowd to reminisce on an era where their knees existed for the thrill of it all.

Your bodies move in tandem: his, warming your back, and your bottom pushed against his groin with your preferred pressure, knowing you’d never go overboard at a wedding but just enough for him to have him let out a shy chuckle.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, “I really hate these dress pants, P.”

You turn your head to him, sultry expression matching his hooded lids. “Why’s that?”

“Shows everything.” He laughs through his nose, “Can’t leave here any time soon now.”

You ease up a little, facing him again while your fingers slide over the brooches resting on the left side of his chest — where his heart resides. He’d argue his heart is in his arms staring up at him.

“I’ve always loved you in dress pants.” You confess. “‘Cause that’s when we’re at weddings together.”

Considering how he leans down, pressing a small kiss to your lips where you reciprocate with another lingering kiss, maybe being in dress pants isn’t that bad.

“Have we met our quota yet, Pix?” He nudges his nose against yours.

For someone who loves weddings, you’re eager to go home, too. You want nothing more than to just spend time with Jungkook in the comforts of your home.

“Quota met.”

Sheltered by the indoor venue, you didn’t realize how humid it got outside in the time spent at the wedding. Your apartment was practically a sauna by the time you and Jungkook arrived back at your place. Opening up your windows, you have a fan running in the background to air out the space.

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly while cutting into the watermelon. Your eyes rake over Jungkook where he unbuttons his grey vest and rolls up his sleeves to reveal his tattooed arm.

He shakes his head, taking two spoons from your drawers, “It’ll cool down.”

Will it? 

Air heavy with both the atmospheric moisture and tension brewing between you and Jungkook all evening, you’re not so sure if the temperatures will drop any time soon. The watermelon center caves as you both dig with the metal spoons. You favored the center; whereas, Jungkook aimed closer to the watermelon rind. 

He peers over at you where you stand. Hair now put up by a claw clip, he counts the baby hairs sticking onto the back of your neck, momentarily forgetting to dig into the watermelon when it’s his turn. 

“Why do you only pick at the sides?” Your brows twitch, digging into the middle again and turning to him with a center piece.

He shrugs, opening his mouth on cue for you to stick your spoon into his mouth. Sure, the middle pieces were sweet, but he thinks they might be sweeter coming from you. He chews and swallows, tilting his head a little to meet your equally sticky lips.

“Sweet either way, Pix.” He wonders if the salty moisture on your skin would pair well with the sweet watermelon.

Well, one way to find out.

No longer following a script, Jungkook moves on his own accord — loving and falling freely as he likes knowing you’ll be there to catch him. He shifts his body, head dipped in the crook of your neck as he licks a thick stripe over your neck. You gasp, spoon dropping onto the counter as your hands fly to grab onto his forearms for support.

He’s right; you do bring out more sweetness.

The half eaten watermelon sits on your counter, long forgotten in the pursuit of Jungkook’s body pressed to yours. His lips slot perfectly on you, a relieved sigh escapes as your bodies move as it’s desired all evening.

He trails kisses down the column of your throat, marking a pathway on your collarbone. Fingers in his hair, your grip on him tightens as you shyly ask, “Bed?”

Knees digging onto your bed, you sit up taller to kiss your still-standing boyfriend. He’s busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt while you race to unbuckle his belt — a race no one formally declared, but it was an unspoken need. And you both needed each other … badly.

You beat him, of course. The black Calvin Klein lettering on the banding greets you first as the front opening flaps of his pants fall to the side. He whimpers as you run your hand over his bulge. 

“Can I …” Your sentence trails off as you kiss along his exposed neck.

He nods unsure of what you exactly want, but the godforsaken dress pants drop and pool at his ankles without a second thought. You kiss your way down his torso, paying extra attention to his chest. With a determined look, you stick your tongue out on his hard nipple for a tentative lick to glean at his response.

Oh, it’s good — so, so, so good. 

He shivers, hand hitting your claw clip as it flies to the back of your neck to hold you in place. Your teeth grazes over the hardened bud, a sliver of pained pleasure courses through as you bite down with a gentle force. He hisses, mouth dropping open to bite back his moans. You remedy the pain with your tongue, silently apologizing without actually feeling sorry. 

You slither lower on all fours as you take his hard cock out of its confinements. Round eyes look up at him for permission to proceed. 

There’s a slight hesitance in your actions as the last time you wanted to give him a blowjob, he made it a goal to stay protected for both your sakes. He’s always for safe sex, but he knows he’s clean and wants to feel your bare lips around him as long as you’ll allow it. You seem to share the same sentiment as you tilt your head up, eyes burning with want and ownership of his bare skin.

Still, you ask, “Do we need a condom for this?” The thin straps of your pretty evening gown cascades loosely on your shoulders.

“No, but only if you want …” Jungkook pants, a harsh exhale when you give him a gentle squeeze. The small, pleased sound you make, paired with another harder tug confirms your answer.

He releases your hair from the clip, watching it cascade down your shoulders. Bunching your hair in a messy ponytail, he uses it as an anchor as you tug on his shaft. 

“Spit on it.” He pleads, groaning when you comply. Your saliva lands on the tip, dripping over the small bead of precum on his slit. So messy how your thumb glides over his slit, mixing the fluids together. Even messier when you place a kiss on his tip, mixed fluids tainting your pretty lips. His stomach contracts, the dips and ridges of his abs are even more defined as a result.

“Missed this with you, Pix.” He melts. It’s even better than how he imagined over the course of time spent with and without you. 

“I missed you, too.” You reply, tongue darting out and wetting your lips before moving in for a small lick over the head of his cock. “I wanna take care of you.” You mumble as you press messy kisses on the underside of his cock. “Is that okay?”

His stomach warms at your sentiment, knowing it’ll never be one-sided as he’ll always do the same for you. He nods, giving you the go ahead to do as you like. The grip on your hair increases and the hand cupped underneath your chin props you upright to take him fully.

He wonders how a place like heaven could ever beat this feeling with you.

Your eyes never stray from his, watching him through your lashes and how he struggles to maintain eye contact with you. It’s only when his cock begins hitting the back of your throat, your lids flutter shut. You gag from the action, pushing past the discomfort each time to hear more of his grunts and praises. Your skin prickles each time his thumb runs across your skin to soothe your aching jaw. 

“Fuck, Pix, if we keep going like — god,” he hisses, “I’m not gonna last long.” He warns.

“Mmhp,” You try to answer even with your mouth fully stuffed. He pulls back and you whine, robbed at the opportunity of having him release all over your tongue.

“Please,” you breathe, hoarse and rough, “wanna taste you.”

Your mouth falls open again. Instead of sliding in again, Jungkook jerks over his length, fast as he needs with the visual of you on your knees so readily to be ruined.

“Baby–I, I’m gonna cum. Fuck,” He tilts his head up to the ceiling.

And when he finally cums, he does so with your name and a string of praises. The first rope of cum lands on the corner of your mouth. Without another thought, you enclose your lips around his tip. His strangled noises spurs you on in your mission to suck and milk him dry.

When he finally slips out of your mouth, the hand underneath your chin guides you up and your knees walk you close to his standing body again. You still haven’t swallowed, unsure what you want to do with the fluid resting on your tongue.

Reading your expression clearly, Jungkook bites down a smile. “You don’t have to swallow, P.” He chuckles, placing a quick peck to your tightly shut mouth, “Want me to get the waste bin?”

He runs his thumb on the corner of your mouth, catching the stray droplet before wrapping his lips around his digit. Honestly, he doesn’t care for the taste and gets your hesitancy, but you hold his gaze and shake your head no, pressing your lips to his. He groans and opens his mouth for you to slip your cum-coated tongue in.

You whimper at his large hands running up and down your backside, ultimately landing on the bottom of your swelled ass. Absolute sin and filth personified when you both exchange and swallow your mixed fluids. 

Your body aches differently for Jungkook these days. Can’t believe he’s in front of you now in your home, surrounded by everything you love.

And you love him.

“I love you.” He says, as though all your internal thoughts and feelings are tethered to him. It’s no secret, and unworthy of hiding. 

You kiss him again, pulling him down with you. He giggles and shrugs off the rest of his clothing as he hovers over you with starry eyes.

Cupping his jaw, you reply, “I love you. Want this with you.”

The relationship. The love. The experience.

His heart — it’s all yours.

The long dimples appear again, disappearing from view once he lowers his head to kiss your neck all while fumbling on the thin straps of your dress and tugging it to expose your bare breasts.

He's said this before and thinks there’s no greater truth than this, “You’re perfect.” Leaning down, he places a wet kiss on your sternum, mouthing, “so beautiful.”

You keen into his touch, back arching when he takes one nipple in his mouth. He does this for a few minutes, teasing your nipples and rotating between them with equal amounts of love and attention.

Again, the ache runs through your entire body, gathering right at your core when his teeth bites down on your sensitive nipple. Your hand detaches from his hair and makes its descent down to his crotch.

He’s only half-hard, still sensitive from his first orgasm. 

Sensing your impatience, he chuckles against your skin. “Gimme some time, P.” Eyes closing as you squeeze around his length again.

You pout, but nod nonetheless, letting go of his shaft because the last thing you want is to do the opposite of keeping him hard.

“But,” he muses, “you could help me.”

And this is how you end up as equally naked as Jungkook on your bed. You’re supported by your numerous pillows as you lay there, watching his eyes jump between your face and closed legs.

His hands are on your knees, soft as he pries them apart to reveal your soaked core. 

You instinctively move to cover your mound, suddenly feeling shy even though Jungkook has seen you bare from below multiple times. His bigger hand covers yours, pressing against it just enough for you to feel the relief it brings. 

“‘S just me, pretty.” He says, eyes never leaving yours. His words and stare makes you sling your free arm over your eyes, blocking the visual of him: kiss-swollen lips, locks no longer in its styled state, red flush on his chest — a stark difference from the dark, solid ink on one of his arms … you can’t bear to look at him in this state. 

Can’t bear him looking at you either.

“I know,” you reply, “I’m just … embarrassed.”

You can’t see him, but you’re sure he’s giving you one of those smiles. One that asks ‘What for? You’re amazing.’

You think about the sheer amount of people who have watched Jungkook — yourself included — and wonder how he isn’t shy. And because of that, you feel yourself growing braver at the thought of giving Jungkook something to watch and appreciate.

Still, you keep your forearm over your eyes, but the other hand covering your pussy nudges Jungkook’s warm hand away. You move up a little. All practiced precision in how your middle finger dips between your slit, rubbing slow circles on your swollen clit.

“Oh, fuck.” He lets out a breathy laugh. Your senses are heightened in this self-visually impaired state; his swallow is heard in the distance.

You think about whether he’s just looking at your hand on your pussy or if he’s watching your covered face — if his eyelids are hooded … if the visual of you playing with yourself is ‘helping’ him. Perhaps it’s these thoughts that also make you grow wetter in between your legs, the wet sounds reach your ears through your staggered breaths.

You feel his lips press on the top of your knee, his breathing also coming out haggard.

“Is this enough?” You whimper, wanting him to take rein of your pleasure.

“A little longer, please?” He begs. “For me?”

He moans at your compliance, noting the speed change in your fingers. The bed shifts too, he nears your body again and you feel his warm breath fanning over your fingers. Suddenly, a dribble of wetness slides on top of your digits and trickles down to the entrance of your pussy, mixing with the rest of your arousal.

The feeling has you removing your arm, finally looking down where he’s at in between your legs. A small playful smile on his lips as he sits back up in his kneeled position. He's more than ready — just wants to see more of you. 

You take note of his hard cock in his hand, a slow stroke up before he thumbs at the slit like he likes to. A twinge of pleasure hits your core again and you’re forced to rub harder circles to relieve yourself of the heavy ache building up at the sight. He laughs again, a mixture of disbelief and horniness as the pace on his cock speeds up too.

“So much better seeing this in person.” His eyes involuntarily shut as he tilts his head to the side.

Huh?

The movement of your hand pauses and so does he with widened eyes. He clears his throat, trying to find the words before you ask, “W-what’s that supposed to mean?”

A sheepish smile stretches across his face and instead of explaining right away, he leans over your body now. Nose against yours, he places a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asks, his hand moves yours away from your pussy and slots his cock in between your soaked folds. Meant as a distraction or to ease your worries for his next words, he finds himself breathing heavier at the feel of your bare cunt with his shaft. The head of his cock slips over with ease onto your swollen clit, twitching as he moves his cock side to side now.

“I–fuck–Pix, you’re so wet.” He drops his head to your neck.

You nod, almost distracted as well, but you bring his head back to your eye level. He swallows nervously, wrist slowing the movement with his cock. Jungkook should’ve rephrased his question to ‘promise you won’t get embarrassed,’ because shortly after he slyly recounts the details of Your Video™ popping up in your living room, you lay there surrounded in the flames of humiliation.

“So embarrassing.” You mumble, unable to meet his eyes. 

Jungkook giggles, kissing your cheek, “Hey, I liked it a lot.”

You turn your head, nose touching his now, “Did you?”

“Uh-huh, more than you’ll ever know.” His hips shift, resuming the grind on your cunt again. “But I like this more.”

His movements get you worked up again, forgetting about your mortification just moments ago. You whine, whimper, and mew into his shoulder; the ache comes and goes — reminding you need more than just this.

“Jungkook,” You gasp at the taps of his cock against your folds.

“Hm?” Eyes hooded, he watches you through his lashes, mouth dropped open when your hands run down his torso.

“Need you.” You plead, hip angled up so you can press harder against him.

“I know, I know, pretty. Just–” He shuts his eyes, “I gotta get you nice and ready for me.”

He senses your hesitancy again and he stops to stare down at you.

“I-I’ve had sex already,” You say, teeth worrying on the bottom lip and debating if you should say your next words. “With, um, Mingyu. So, we don’t have to prep.” While both unnecessary to tell him and unreasonable to feel this way, guilt courses through your body at the confession.

“Doesn’t matter to me if you’ve had sex.” Jungkook says, “I always want you to feel good and comfortable.” He kisses you, soft just like the fingers he trails at your entrance gathering your arousal.

You swallow, “Are you upset it happened with someone else?”

He blinks, head tilting in confusion, “Not something for me to get upset over, P.” Studying your face, his brows eventually relax as he asks you, “Are you upset?”

You shrug, looking to the side. “It was … whatever.” That’s all you’re willing to say about the experience and you’re sure Jungkook doesn’t want to hear about another man while he’s just about to get intimate with you. At this point, maybe he’d opt out to stopping in general, but he sighs a small hey to gain your attention.

“The experience will always be yours.” He kisses your forehead. “Nobody can take anything from you.”

You nod, eyes closing at the feel of his finger at your entrance. He keeps his lips at your forehead, feeling it furrow as he sinks one finger into your pussy. It’s a slow and leisure pump, easy to have you forgetting about the prior conversation and putting the focus back on him. Penetration has never been your thing; technically, it’s still not. But there’s some relief as Jungkook curls and massages his finger against your walls, stretching you out as he intended to. He refuses to take his eyes off yours, especially when he decides to add in another finger.

“That’s it, baby. Taking it so well.” He praises, voice cracking at the end of the sentence.

“You make me feel so good.” You sigh, eyes closing as he speeds his fingers inside you. “Always feel so safe with you.”

He curses, mentally prepared to hear your choked whine when he removes his fingers from your sopping hole. He says your name sternly, followed by a thick swallow. You hum in response, hips mindlessly chasing after any part of his body for friction. He slots his hard shaft against your wet folds again, giving you both some form of pleasure in the interim. He looks down, moaning at the sight of his cock coated with your arousal.

“Need you inside me.” Your hands hold his waist in place to stop him from grinding against your clit, head of his cock positioned at your entrance. You bubble with anticipation, wondering how he’d feel inside you.

And as much as he’d like nothing more than to finally sink inside, a small part of his lovesick brain still holds some form of logic and manages to utter, “Birth control?”

You blink, a slight falter in your response as you shake your head shamefully. There wasn’t a medical necessity for you to be on birth control before and you didn’t think far enough when it came to intimacy with Jungkook.

He chuckles, “That’s okay, P. I just wanted to check.” He hops off the bed and fishes for his wallet. Another ten seconds go before he drops his wallet onto the ground with a triumphed smile and brings up the small squared package between his fingers. The smile drops a little at the sight of your tiny pout.

Beating him to his question, you remark, “I wanted to feel you …” 

He exhales hard through his nose. Keeping the condom in between his fingers, he makes his way back to you on your bed. You both seem to fall back into position again. 

“Not sure if either of us are ready for kids, P.” The thought of having kids is scary, but weirdly … he finds the fear lessening at the thought of it with you. Seen how you reacted and smiled around children — he wonders if his future kids would have your smile. Either way, too early for these thoughts.

“Okay, okay,” You let his words simmer a little and he suddenly wants to do away with the little package in his hands when you look up at him. “You’re right.” 

He’s right, knows he is when you blink away those irrational thoughts. The same thoughts get pushed to the side when the foil packaging tears and a sweet scent fills your nostrils. This time, hints of rich chocolate and confectioned goodness. You relax back onto your mattress, watching as he positions himself between your legs.

“Do you only have flavored condoms?” You ask, impish smile lifting the awkward conversation from before.

He grins, “Someone gifted a five hundred flavored pack for my birthday last year.” Hint: it was Hoseok. “So … we’re stuck with this for now. Do you hate it? I could stop using them–”

You shake your head and his eyes soften at your answer. There’s relief in knowing it’ll always remain sweet between you and Jungkook. 

“I wanna feel you, too.” He admits as he lines himself at your entrance. He doesn’t push in just yet, watching how your hole clenches around nothing … for now. “We’ll figure something out.”

The defaulted option is to simply have you go on birth control, but that’s something to discuss and for you to decide. If need be, he isn’t too opposed to a vasectomy. You both have all the time in the world to discuss.

“Okay,” you stutter as he begins pushing the head of his covered cock in. That’s all he does for now, opting to drop onto his forearms to kiss you, praise you — love on you. You do little to hide the sting, face contorting before you let out a couple shallow breaths.

“Too much?” He asks, hips stalling and fingers brushing away your hair.

You shake your head, “Hurts a little, but,” you lift your hips a little, legs parting to accommodate Jungkook's body. “Wanna keep going.”

He doesn’t move. 

Tattooed arm dropped in between your bodies, he rubs practiced circles on your clit. You sigh in content, wiggling your hips to push more of him into you. Eyes fluttering shut, similar to how your pussy flutters and gushes around his length after every little push inside as a reward for taking more of him. He shudders and grunts deeply, mentally counting backwards from a hundred to keep himself distracted by how snug your walls feel around him.

You moan, soft and saccharine at the stretch of his full length inside you.

“You feel so good.” He husks into the shell of your ear. “Feel that, Pix?”

“Yeah …” You keen, unable to verbalize a proper response.

“You gotta tell me how you feel, ‘kay?” He lifts his head up and connects his forehead on yours, but his heavy eyes observe how your lower halves connect.

“M-mhm,” You reply, eyes shutting at the fullness below. “Can we stay like this for a bit? I-It’s … it’s a lot.”

He nods. A part of him is thankful for this pause, allowing his mind to think of other things in the meantime so this experience can be better for you. The other part is worried you’re uncomfortable. He wants to make this good for you — wants you to feel good, so it doesn’t matter how long he needs to stay still inside you. Sex could end right now and he’d be okay with it.

“Kiss me, please?” Your request comes out small, but he feels the harsh drumming of your heart against his chest. Your hands are bunched up on his nape, not relaxed how they usually are when you’re with him. 

What else could he do but comply with your wishes?

Kissing’s good — the belief he’ll die on a hill for. Kissing’s even better with you; he loves your lips, the way you lick the seam of his lips, how you sound when you’re being kissed as you deserve. Could stay like this forever with you. The heavy making out goes on for another two minutes, until he unconsciously bucks his hips which forces you to detach from his lips in a loud gasp.

He immediately searches for your face, eyes swelling with concern. “Sorry, I–”

You shake your head, thighs clamping around to hold him still before he pulls out. “‘s okay,” you reassure, “That felt good. Just, go slow.”

The pace he sets out is controlled — slow, as requested. And god, is it good. Your bed creaks with every movement, but the sounds are overshadowed by your shared breathy moans and praises only heard between each other. His fingers move swiftly over your pussy, so love drunk with your body, he feels his balls tightening — a sign of his forthcoming orgasm.

Call it selfish or greedy, he doesn’t want it to end, pulling out at the last second to delay his orgasm. Typically so well-versed in your body cues of an impending orgasm, his own dilemma clouded his judgment when you let out an involuntary frustrated cry at the loss of contact. 

Your chest stutters, stomach clenching from your heavy breaths. And although you should question why he did that, you can’t think when he guides his cock into your warm cunt once more.

“You were gonna make me cum again, pretty.” He lets out a breathy laugh, hips resuming its pace.

You whine, “Was gonna cum, too.” You look down where he fucks his thick length into you. He makes up for the accidental edging by rocking his hips faster into you, fingers once again finding home on your clit forces a high pitched squeal from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Yeah? I’m sorry.” He truly is. Your pleasure’s always his top priority — you’re his priority. 

“You deserve to cum.” His fingers flatten on your mound, and the wet squelching sounds increase with the fastened movements. “Give it to me, pretty.”

So sensitive and lost in the pleasure, you gasp and arch your body into his, eyes slamming shut at the onset waves of pleasure building below. 

“Jung–” Couldn’t finish your sentence before you’re squeezing tightly around him. He doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers, but he stills himself in you, giving you a couple hard pumps while you ride out your sudden orgasm.

He doesn’t think he ever wants to forget this feeling. 

Finally letting off your clit and pushing himself up again, Jungkook marvels at the thin sheen of sweat in between your chest and the white ring of cum coated at the base of his cock where the condom doesn’t fully reach.

“Please, need you to cum inside me.” You beg.

He can’t, not with the condom on, but the sentiment makes him act like he doesn’t have one on. Parting your thighs wider, he thrusts in slowly, mindful of your oversensitivity. The ring of cum builds and thickens at the base, transferring some of your arousal over his pubic bone in a messy haze. Alas, the visual combination of your chest moving in tandem with his thrusts, your scrunched brows, and hand on his stomach was enough for him to release once more. 

Though, the final blow came from your soft declarations of love while you tell him how good he makes you feel.

“Baby,” He manages, hands dropping your thighs, his front also comes down onto your chest as he lazily pumps inside of you with his cum-filled condom. The pleasure continues in the form of your fingers raking up and down his back, drawing shapes and patterns of love.

You know things will always remain sweet between you and Jungkook — like the giggles, doting questions, and soothing hands as he brings you to the shower. It’s not the hot water you feel on your skin, but Jungkook’s tender kisses and embrace forever etched on your body.

“P, sit still, won’t you?” Jungkook stands behind the tripod, angling the camera.

“You ever consider modeling? You’re a natural.” You say as you sift through the album on the tablet. You’re doing everything to avoid Jungkook’s latest assignment in class. Sure, it’ll be a good headshot update for your business card and website, but you weren’t keen on having your picture taken. It was always better behind the camera.

He rolls his eyes, gentle smile on his lips as he walks over. “Flattery won’t get you out of helping me. You promised you’d be my model for this semester.”

“Camera shy.” You pout. “You know that.”

“I know.” Jungkook chuckles. “I’ll teach you.” Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

The thing with teaching is that he inadvertently learns as well. Knows it’s also the same for you too. Skills refined, new ideologies unlocked, and discoveries waiting to be explored. He no longer follows a script anymore — no longer feels like he’s boxed in … life is forever limitless as long as he makes it to be.

A shutter goes off from behind capturing the two of you in the frame.

fin.

ending a/n: beta’d by @takeitawaykenny who sat thru my ridiculousness but also entertained it. prologue wouldn’t have existed without her, yall … she rly was brain behind rkivedshots' beginnings on god love u bookie ;__; and @lovieku who’s been nothing but supportive and rode thru my (many) moments of doubt. she was the angel i needed on my shoulder during the makings of my first series and helped shape so much of itf!! couldn't have done this without your guys unwavering love and support!! oceans of gratitude to my two champions 😭🫂

🧚🏻‍♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

alas, thank YOU all for joining me on this fun ride. i hope you guys got something out of this whether it be a chuckle, life lesson, or soiled panties, i’m lucky yall stuck with me. to my lovelies who have been here since the beginning and cuties we picked up along the way: i appreciate your trust, patience, and overall enthusiasm for this series — you’re my dream!! i told yall i’d guide us to my desired ending with so much love and care. ain’t no way this couple wasn’t gonna be end game … i just had to make the journey difficult. oop. anyway call me #aftercarequeen 💅

with that said … epilogue? send your thanks to lovieku for convincing me bahaha it won’t come any time soon cuz i have other things i wanna work on, but do not fear … i have something planned!

in the meantime, feel free to send in your reaccs/thoughts for our lovely itf!couple. i’m here for ya just as you’ve been here with me xoxo ♡

Although the case has officially been off your hands for weeks, almost months, you can’t seem to stay away. At least not entirely. You carefully probe Jihyo for whatever updates she can give, and Jeongguk forwards any crumbs he picks up from his contacts as well.

You know the lead investigator is tired of his constant need for reassurance—whether they remembered to process a certain witness testimony or check another location’s CCTV—just to make sure they’re not missing anything.

Even his polite requests for updated time estimates are probably wearing thin. If you were the one hounding them like that, you’re sure the case would’ve been dropped, but that’s the perk of being a confident man, you guess.

Personally, you’re better off trying to find a middle ground. You’re curious and nervous, yes, but you can’t allow yourself to obsess over the case. Besides, knowing both Jihyo and Jeongguk are keeping an eye on everything relieves you of any pressure. They wouldn’t let anyone fuck it up.

A week after your visit to Hoseong, Jeongguk leads you into the garage of his home, stopping at one of the shelves where he keeps his motorcycle gear. You watch him weigh a helmet in each hand before he decides on a black one so shiny you can see your own face reflected in it, and turn to you.

Having never worn a helmet of the kind, it feels weird when he pushes it down your head, adjusting it to sit properly while your head moves under the force like a bobblehead.

“What?” you question, not missing his smile as he peers down at you through the open visor.

“You look cute, that’s all.”

“Is it my cheeks? I look like a chipmunk, don’t I?”

He chuckles but shakes his head. “No, you don’t look like a chipmunk. Just cute.”

Definitely lying, he turns to the motorcycle.

“You know, I thought you’d force me to wear, like… a scuba suit or something.”

“The only reason I’m not is because it’s barely a five-minute ride, and you’re still wearing jeans. I will force you to wear an appropriate jacket, though. Unless you want to wear full-cover gear?”

Reminded of your outfit, you glance down at it. You would've worn a dress, had Jeongguk allowed it, but he mentioned 'meat crayon' and you quickly obeyed, choosing a pair of your nicest black jeans. To go with them, you settled on a deep red long-sleeve blouse.

You narrow your eyes, watching him put his own helmet on. You can only hope to look as gorgeous and not-silly as he does.

“A five-minute ride, huh?”

Realizing what he revealed, he points a finger at you. “Don’t trick me into spoiling things.”

“Hmm, what’s within five minutes from here?” you muse to yourself.

Hearing you, Jeongguk hits you with a pout so strong you see it conveyed purely by his round eyes. “No, please don’t,” he begs, and you feel a real physical tug on your heartstrings. At first, his reaction surprises you, but then you remember who you’re actually going on a date with. Jeongguk cares.

“Fine, I won’t,” you promise, happy to see those dark eyes light up again.

“Good. Here, wear this,” he says, handing you a black jacket with a thin, white stripe along its sides. It’s obviously smaller than the all black one he chooses to wear himself, and you don’t ask why he has it or for whom he bought it. Unless left behind by someone, he’s obviously gotten it to keep someone safe while riding with him.

With the jacket all zipped up, you lift your head, meeting his gaze. 

“You ready?” he asks.

Taking in the vision of him—black motorcycle jacket, black pants, black helmet—you nod. “Yeah. You look hot.”

He laughs, and you follow him as he wheels the bike outside, listening intently to his instructions while simultaneously checking him out. You should keep close, hold onto him, lean the same way he does, and keep your feet far from the exhaust so you don’t get toasted.

You think you got it, but it's a little hard to focus when he looks like that. Big and clearly very muscular, evident even through his clothes, he's the vision of the perfect 'bad boy.' And that's with the inked sleeve hidden.

He puts the kickstand down, and then he’s turning to you, holding his hands out toward you like you’re a kid he’s about to lift. Which is exactly what he does, just like the first time he put you on his bike. It’s impressive how he lifts you by your armpits and places you in the ‘backpack’ spot like you weigh nothing, which you absolutely don’t.

“Tap me somewhere if you want me to slow down,” he instructs as he gets on in front of you, reaching back to pull your arms around his waist. Getting the hint, you wrap them around him.

“And if I want you to stop?”

He thinks for a second. “Pinch me or something?”

You grin. Looking over his shoulder at you, he reaches over to flick your visor down, doing the same to his own right after.

While you once told Jeongguk you wouldn’t want to ride with him because he didn’t seem to value his own life, you’re not scared. Not in the slightest. He steers smoothly out of the neighborhood, sticking to the speed limits, and then you’re on the highway.

It’s freeing, seeing and feeling the world pass by, so very different from looking out the window of a car. You adjust your grip on his waist, your head resting against his back. Since you already have a pretty good guess of where you’re going, you find yourself just taking the world in.

The sun set not too long ago, and despite the air being rather… refreshing, you’re not cold. Jeongguk keeps to the left lane—overtaken cars disappearing on your right—and you keep your eyes on the slowly appearing horizon as the highway takes you onto a bridge. You watch the sky and the moving lights, letting the wind clear your thoughts.

Although he told you it was a short ride, you’re still surprised when you’re already there. Effortlessly, Jeongguk parks the bike and gets off, helping you down as well. You take the helmet off, running your hand through your hair and giving Jeongguk the helmet, who sticks his arm through one, hand grasping the other.

“So… how was it?” he smiles, hopeful, and holds his free hand out to you.

You take it, smiling so wide your cheeks almost hurt when he pulls you closer. “Surprisingly nice. Very… freeing?”

“Right? It’s my favorite thing to do when I need to clear my head.”

“I get that. Though I think it would be almost too freeing for me; I’d be too deep in my thoughts and cause an accident.”

Some bystanders and a group exiting the restaurant glance your way, but then again, you’re with Jeongguk. He’s a fantasy all on his own, even when he’s not dressed in black and holding two motorcycle helmets, but you understand them. He’s definitely extra dreamy tonight; black hair attractively messy after taking off the helmet.

You peer up at him, amazed and almost fascinated that he’s there with you.

“Head inside?” he wonders.

You nod, letting him take the lead.

It’s crowded at the restaurant’s entrance, only enough space for one person to pass through at a time. Jeongguk, of course, still with your hand in his, gently pulls you behind him to keep you close. He only drops your hand to hold the door open for you, the helmets occupying his other hand.

And while you’d never expect someone to open doors for you just because they’re a man and you’re a woman, it makes you feel warm inside. Maybe even more so because it seems to come so naturally to him; he doesn’t look like he’s actively deciding to do it, he just does it. Maybe it’s 50/50. You feel special, and you conclude that he’s special.

It’s less crowded once you’re inside, and you watch Jeongguk talk to the hostess, relaying his name for the table. The woman excuses herself to go check something, and you watch a few groups exit around you, happy, buzzed, and with jackets draped over their arms. The air smells like wine and garlic and expensive candles.

Jeongguk’s warm hand pulls you closer to his side.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he says, keeping his voice low as he looks down at you.

“What?”

“How do you want me to behave?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“I don’t want to risk scaring you off, but I’ve also made the mistake of not telling you how I feel before, and I’d rather not do that again.”

You look at him, seeing his earnest eyes and how he’s clearly put thought into it.

“So how do I best convey to you that I’m… really into you, but that I’m perfectly happy with taking it at whatever pace you’d like? How do I tell you that I want you even if I might not… initiate much? Or, God forbid, I do initiate something and accidentally put pressure on you when that's not my intention?”

You’re quiet for a moment, thinking his words through. “I think you just told me?”

“Yeah, but… is that enough? Cause God knows I don’t wanna fuck this up more than I already have. Or hurt you.”

Genuine regret simmers in his eyes as he bites his lip, and you feel your chest constrict.

“I think that… communication bridges all the gaps. What happened before…”

You think back to his couch. You on your back under him, your shirt and bra on the floor, and terror flooding your veins. His dark eyes as it finally clicks that there was a limit somewhere, and that he's already crossed it.

You don't blame him for what happened, but you understand him. And while you might still feel nervous around him, especially at the thought of being naked—more so exposed—it’s now a small hill compared to the mountain it was when you weren’t sure of his intentions. 

Maybe more importantly, it was before you had another near-death experience, waking up after Jeongguk saved you to the clearest revelation yet. 

You don’t want to be without him.

“I know you better now. And I’ll get over it,” you smile, spotting the hostess returning.

Jeongguk gives you what’s almost a small, sad pout, lifting his hand to gently tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I don’t want you to ‘get over’ anything,” he mumbles.

“I meant that…” you start, your voice softer too. “It doesn’t scare me as much. Even less when you say things like you just did. I meant that I’ll overcome it? And I want to overcome it.”

“I’m not pressuring you,” he says, stroking the back of your neck. His hand is slightly colder than your skin, the comforting gesture still setting you on fire.

“No, I know that. Just because you still sometimes make me nervous doesn’t have to mean it’s a bad thing.”

“Okay. Tell me if I do something wrong then. If I’m doing too little or too much.”

You nod.

“Sorry for the wait. This way.”

The hostess leads you to a small table near a window. There are lit candles in the middle and two burgundy leather menus already laid out. You’ve been to this restaurant once before but it was ages ago, and it seems to have gone through some renovations since.

You’re flipping through the menu when you feel eyes on you. Meeting his gaze, you find that Jeongguk's looking at you almost… cheekily. Maybe there's a bit of hope in there too, and it makes your face feel warm.

"What?" you wonder quietly, trying to focus despite the way candlelight reflects in his nearly black eyes and casts shadows across his face, like underneath his cheekbones.

“What made you decide?”

“To go on a date with you?”

“Mhm.”

You glance back at the menu, eyes glazing over the words without actually reading them.

“Cause I’ve tried to find literally any reason not to, but there just aren't any."

“Are you implying that you’re actually here against your will?” he raises his eyebrows teasingly.

“No.”

“Then what made you decide? What were the reasons you were looking for?”

“I can tell you what I’ve found?”

He nods, putting his menu down and resting his forearms on the table. You try not to stare at his veiny hands.

“You’re good.”

“Is that it?”

“Honestly? Yes. It’s all that matters to me. Intelligence, humor, and attraction play a part of course—though I’d say you’re almost too attractive? Like intimidatingly attractive—but it doesn’t matter if you’re not good.”

“And I am?” he asks, and although his tone is casual yet curious, you can tell he’s far from disappointed by your answer.

"What would you do if I came to you and said I had a tampon stuck?"

He blinks, the left turn of the conversation surprising him. "Like, stuck inside?"

You nod, watching his gaze drift off as he considers the hypothetical.

"I don't know, is there a specific technique? If you felt comfortable with it, I guess I would try with my fingers; all you have to do is find the string, right?"

You smile, mostly to yourself, as he tries to find a solution.

"Is that a good answer? I don't know if there would be another way—like a special tool or something—so if that didn't work, I'd probably just have to take you to the hospital?"

Your heart is so warm because you knew.

"You would help," you conclude.

The realization dawns on him—both that it was such an easy answer, and that you seemed to know somewhat what he was going to say even beforehand—and you smile warmly, even happily, as you continue.

"You wouldn't complain about it being gross and tell me to sort it out, myself. You'd help me, in what way you could."

Jeongguk is good, and that is why you're with him.

The date is by far the best you’ve had. You haven’t been on many dates to begin with, at least not of this caliber—which isn't inherently bad; your version of a good date is quality time spent together—but Jeongguk is beating them all by a long shot.*

He listens intently, cares about what you tell him, and, with the candlelight glimmering in his eyes, asks questions. Like you’re important. He asks you what you'd like to order, and when the waiter approaches, he orders for the both of you.

You eat, and when another pretty waitress comes around to ask if everything’s alright, you notice his polite but non-wandering eyes as he answers her. And when she’s gone, he continues to tell you a funny story from the police academy, rolling up the sleeves of his black dress shirt.

It's a gradual realization that hits you. Somehow, despite thinking so much about what Jeongguk would be like as a romantic partner, you haven't really let yourself truly see him in that romantic light until now.

And while he's clearly made an effort tonight, it's mostly when it comes to reserving a table and dressing up; he's still talking to you like he always is. He's not on this date to earn brownie points, already planning on ignoring you when you return home.

An hour and twenty minutes pass just like that, and the only small interruption comes when another couple sits down at a nearby table. The blonde woman is dressed in a skirt and blouse, and her man wears a dress shirt and pants, both in neutral colors.

She laughs loudly, gathering the attention of all nearby tables. What really catches your eye is the large bouquet of red roses she’s holding, clearly unsure of what to do with it.

You turn your head, meeting Jeongguk’s eyes. Your heart skips a warm beat at the sight of him, and something flutters in your stomach. He’s so handsome, even to the point where it’s hard to tear your eyes away to see what you’re about to stab with your fork.

“And my mom tried so hard to get me to choose something else. She practically begged me to at least consider just becoming a tattoo artist,” he chuckles.

“She loves you,” you say, looking at him softly. You can't even imagine how proud she must be.

“Yeah.”

You tilt your glass slowly, watching the red swirl around. 

“Can I ask… How old were you? When your father…” You trail off, watching him carefully in case it’s not an appropriate subject.

“Fifteen. He and his partner were called to a shoot-out. A pregnant woman happened to get in the middle of it, and he got hit protecting her.”

Your heart hurts for him. While you guessed it was a while ago, you never knew an exact age. And fifteen is such a rough age too; very possibly when you need a parent the most. You think back to what Jeongguk said about his dad after you'd just spent all your remaining energy not only lifting all the problems with men and law enforcement but also making sure he knew his part.

“My dad… He was what made me believe that there’s good in the world.”

You turn your head to look at him where he lies on the other side of the bed. His dark hair looks soft and so does the skin of his neck, shoulders, and arms.

“I did look up to him, but not because of what you said. I did it because he was kind, and strong, and helpful. He loved my mom more than anything, and he’d do absolutely anything and everything for her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s bizarre, though. To think that I’ve lived almost half my life without him.”

You rest your chin in your hand, and Jeongguk raises a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth, watching you curiously. “Is there something on your mind?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to upset you or anything.”

“It’s alright. I can talk about him.”

“...I’m just wondering whether you’re a lot like him.”

“I don’t know. Maybe? It’s hard for me to judge.”

“Your mom seemed to think so. That you were maybe too much like him, even.”

He chuckles, grabbing his glass of water. You watch, endeared and infatuated, as he drinks.

“So, do you wanna get dessert?” you ask, changing the subject. “I remember this place had one of the best cheesecakes in town. Like, easily top three.”

Jeongguk sets his glass down and looks around. “Uh, I was actually thinking that we should get going.”

“What? Why? We haven’t been here that long?”

“Yeah, but I…”

You look at him, confused. You haven’t overstayed your welcome; there’s definitely enough time for dessert.

“I have to be home in—” he checks his watch “—half an hour.”

“You’re not going to the station, are you?” you ask, feeling your stomach drop quietly yet heavily.

He bites his lip. “I might have to. Jihyo said they’re understaffed and asked me to be on standby.”

Your heart sinks further, but you know it’s not his fault. He did look at his phone a few times when you ate, so you figure that was probably her.

“Oh. Okay. Another time then, maybe.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he says, and you can see that he’s sad too, biting his cheek like he’s genuinely considering letting his colleagues down just to stay and have cheesecake with you.

“I can’t believe she had no one else to ask,” you smile, gathering your silverware and napkin to put on the empty plate. “But it's okay.”

You’ve never had a date like this, with someone you like like this. And to have it cut short?

“Let’s just hope I won’t need to,” he says, flagging down the waiter.

The ride home even more peaceful than the ride there. Naturally, you don’t talk, and you’re left to watch the world pass by as Jeongguk steers the motorcycle through town again. You hug him close but not hard, even sneaking one hand underneath his jacket and shirt, rubbing your thumb gently across the warm skin of his stomach. You think he laughs; you can’t hear it, but you feel it. 

Observing the sky that’s even darker now, you hope for a shooting star so that you can wish for Jeongguk to stay. If there’s anything you want tonight, it’s you and him on the couch, snuggled up under some blankets. That would’ve been the perfect end to a perfect date, and your chest warms at the thought.

“So…” he starts as he gets off the bike, removing his helmet and turning to you. “Think you’d go on a longer ride with me sometime?”

You look at him through the dark visor, nodding. “Yeah, definitely. I liked it.”

He grins, one of your favorite sights in the entire world. Gazing at him, you hold your arms out, happily letting him lift you off the bike again, something he does without hesitation.

You hold both helmets while he wheels the bike back inside the garage. He parks it where he wants it, and you place the helmets on the same shelf he grabbed them from earlier. The jacket he loaned you, you unzip and take off, holding it out to him.

“It was an okay date?” he asks, shrugging off his own jacket and taking yours from your outstretched hand to hang over the bike to deal with later.

“Perfect. A little sad we had to leave early, but it is what it is. I just hope you don’t have to go in tonight.”

Seemingly heading your way to follow you into the house, he approaches. Your heart beats harder the closer he gets, until he’s standing right in front of you, looking down. His hair is a little wild, his eyes soft yet curious. So gorgeous and so kind. How is this man real?

You lower your eyes, keeping them on the hand you place on his chest, fingertips toying with the buttons of his black shirt.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

Maybe the bar is low, but you’ve never come home from a date feeling like this. Someone went on a date with you, happy to be there, content with listening to you, and seemingly up to do it again. Even paid for it without expecting sexual favors in return.

“My pleasure,” he says just as quietly, his warm, low voice causing goosebumps to line your arms.

Smiling, you look up at his face again, slowly moving your hand to his neck and standing on your toes. 

His lips are soft like always, and while he lets his big hands warm your waist, he doesn’t rush you when you kiss him languidly. These are the best kinds of kisses, you think. Slow, careful almost to the point of teasing. They build anticipation, conveying so much when they finally happen. 

With your lips moving against his, he matches your approach entirely. Until you’re overcome with gratitude and happiness and just press your lips against every part of his mouth, cheek, and jaw. By then, he’s grinning widely.

“So,” you say when you feel like you’ve relayed a bit of your gratitude, stepping back. “What are we doing? Are we watching something?”

Jeongguk gestures for you to go first, following closely behind as you open the door that connects the garage to the rest of the house.

“Sure. I’d like that,” he says from behind. "And maybe we can hold hands?"

Glancing back at him from over your shoulder, amused and incredibly endeared, you take the first steps into the house. It's dark when you enter it, except for a… subtle… glow coming from the living room? It’s moving? Almost like it’s flickering?

It reminds you of… fire.

Frowning, you quicken your steps, until you round the corner and… You freeze.

Candles. There must be… at least a hundred live candles in there. Not only that but candles and roses everywhere. They stand in clusters; on the floor, on the window sills, on the coffee table… everywhere. Where there aren’t clusters of five or more candles shining their warm, flickering light on one or more big bouquets of deep red roses in glass vases, there are red petals strewn. 

You don’t even know what the emotion washing over you like a tsunami is, but your chest aches and your eyes are already welling up. This is… for you?

Jeongguk’s slow steps come to a stop behind you, and you feel him gently tuck your hair behind your ear from behind. 

"Jin and Jimin went out the back the moment you unlocked the door. They helped me set it up.”

But you watch the tiny flames flicker and the way they fill the entire room with their warm light, and you can’t seem to form a coherent sentence or even thought. All you manage to utter is a “...Why?”

He runs his fingers softly through your hair from behind, and you feel his gaze on the side of your face. “You really thought I was done? That a dinner was everything?”

“Yes? It was great. Perfect. Absolutely more than enough and by far the best date I’ve ever been on. This is…” you gesture to the room, still speechless and sniffling.

“For the absolute prettiest of girls,” he continues, delivering such a hard hit to your chest and seemingly not stopping. “Bonus points if they're also incredibly smart, kind, brave, and stubborn. Now come on, there’s dessert.”

He walks past you, and you follow him with your gaze, seeing him grab a white box you hadn’t seen on the coffee table. It’s from a bakery you recognize.

“Cheesecake?” you sniffle.

“Yeah. From your favorite place.”

He scoots over to the side of the couch, pulling out cutlery from some hidden stash behind it and placing it all on the table, he even produces glasses and a bottle of wine.

But you just stand there, tear streaks along your cheeks. In fact, you haven't taken a single step since you realized the room was not on fire.

“Come here,” he says when he notices.

But you still can’t. You just look at him with teary, distraught eyes; you can’t even smile. 

You don’t get roses. You don’t even get flowers. Yet… somehow… this is for you? No one’s ever done anything remotely like this for you. And it’s not like you feel like you’ve missed out on this because no one gets this. No one normal in this day and age does this for a partner. Receiving a single bouquet of red roses—like the woman at the restaurant—is what society deems sweet and romantic and realistic. It’s unexpected and sweet and totally enough. Only the dinner would've been more than enough. But this? No one gets this, so why do you? 

Sensing that you’re stuck somewhere, Jeongguk rises from the couch and walks over to where you still stand. 

“You okay?” he asks, smiling softly as he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“No.”

His smile widens, and he envelops you in his arms, letting you press your cheek against his chest. Maybe you’re dramatic, but you need a moment.

“You made us go home because you’d already gotten cheesecake?” 

“Yeah. Almost stayed with you just cause you looked so heartbroken, though.”

He’s so warm, and he smells so good. “So you’re not on standby?”

“No.”

You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter, relieved. In turn, he sways you. Slowly, back and forth, and there's really no place you'd rather be. “Wanna eat cheesecake? And watch a movie?”

Nodding is all you can do, and when he lets you go, you watch him unbutton his shirt, leaving him in a white tank top. Of course, you're only human, and your gaze lingers a little too long on his veiny forearms and the tattoos. When you do finally follow him to the couch and sit down beside him, he reaches for the remote with one hand and holds the end of a blanket up for you with the other.

“Come here,” he instructs. “I know we don’t always know what to watch, so after careful consideration, I have picked out three movies for you to choose between.”

You scoot closer pulling the blanket over you as well.

“This must’ve been so expensive,” you say, still gazing, amazed, across the room. 

A dinner at a nice restaurant and then some candles perhaps wouldn’t be too bad, but a big, fancy cheesecake and the flowers? There’s gotta be at least three hundred roses, possibly more, and practically the only thing you know about roses is that they’re expensive.

“Not really, it’s from the flower account, already budgeted for,” he says casually, fitting the blanket over his lap.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you comment, reaching toward the closest bouquet on the coffee table, pulling a single rose from it. It’s big and without the slightest imperfection. “I mean, I knew you were a little bit crazy, but like this?”

He smiles widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly as he lifts his arm, patting his chest.

“Only for you. Now come here.”

<previous | next>

author's note: that was their first date, i hope you liked it! :,) <3

"Are you wiping it off first?" he grins, watching your face as you put the list down and step away to rummage through one of the cabinets.

Fighting a smile, you roll your eyes at him over your shoulder as you grab a thermometer from the container of brand-new ones and rip it from its plastic.

You wave it in the air as if a thermometer that hasn't measured the inner temps of a hundred dog butts is a luxury reserved for the few. "Unused. Just for you."

Chuckling, he watches you approach, opening his mouth obediently to let you place the metal tip on his tongue, his lips closing around it.

"Keep it under the tongue. It takes a few seconds."

While you wait, you lift your hand, tentatively resting the back of it against his forehead just to feel again. His dark eyes are on you every second, but you try to focus anyway. Estimating a temperature by touch is hard, but he's definitely warmer. A fever this high often makes a human's skin feel clammy, but Jeongguk doesn't look ill, and his skin feels normal to the touch. Just warm.

A moment later, the thermometer beeps and you retrieve it carefully from his mouth. Jeongguk keeps his warm gaze on your face, more interested in your reaction than the actual result. And there's definitely a reaction. The moment you read the numbers off the small screen, your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink in disbelief.

"I'm… gonna try another one," you mumble, tossing the probably faulty thermometer in the trash and heading to the cabinet to grab a replacement.

"What did it show?"

"42 degrees Celsius."

He looks at you with a small, knowing smile.

"You knew?"

"I think I'm usually around 41.8 to 42. But it's been a few decades since I last tested. I think the last thermometer showed 107.7."

"Fahrenheit, I take it?"

He nods.

"At least it's consistent then. Would you mind…?" You hold up the new one.

This time, he reaches out to take the offered device from your hand. "You don't believe me?" he asks, but the amused smile playing on his lips tells you he isn't actually offended.

You shake your head, watching him casually slide it between his lips. The way he shifts it into place, hands-free, under his tongue is insanely attractive, highlighting both his sharp jaw and sculpted cheekbones.

"I want to believe you, but… everything I know says that this is impossible. A human, showing 42 degrees would… would be dead." You shake your head in disbelief. "Or at least hanging on by a thin damn thread."

Two seconds later, the thermometer beeps. He plucks it from his mouth, glances at the number, and hands it to you. Like the last time, you stare at the result, trying to make sense of it. 41.9.

"And I take it you didn't drink anything hot right before knocking on that door?"

"You mean like coffee?"

You nod, waiting for the answer that explains his abnormal temp.

"I don't drink coffee. All I've had today is blood, heated to 37 degrees. And that was…" he trails off, lifting his eyes to look at the clock. "Four hours ago."

You study him and his slightly lopsided smile for a few seconds, thinking deeply. Then, unceremoniously, you shove the thermometer under your own tongue. He watches you, still amused and maybe surprised, while you hold the end of it, waiting for the beep.

It comes, interrupting the silence, and you pull the thermometer out.

"36.5," you state. "It checks out; I'm usually a little on the colder side. But if you really are 42 degrees, I should've noticed. In that bathroom, when you put your hand over my mouth, why didn't I notice?"

He shrugs, thinking back to that night. "I… held the cold, metal railing while we were outside? My hands were probably chillier than usual."

Quietly, you revisit the memory too. And yeah, you remember him standing next to you, large hands gripping that iron bar as you spoke. It was cold, and it's a scientifically plausible explanation.

"But if you're… If you're really 42 degrees…" You trail off, trying to process exactly what a body temperature that high would entail. "Do you mind if I listen to your heart? And lungs?"

"Be my guest."

Returning to the table where all your stuff has accumulated, you scan the area.

"Stethoscope?"

"Huh?" you glance back at him.

He nods toward your neck. "If you're looking for the stethoscope."

"Oh." Your hand flies up, fingers brushing the rubber tubing of said stethoscope.

Jeongguk smiles. Surely, he knows exactly that he's the reason you're slightly off your game. All day practically every day, the stethoscope hangs around your neck, yet his mere presence has you forgetting.

Cheeks burning, you put the earpieces in place.

"I'll have to go under the shirt," you inform, looking at him for permission.

He nods, and you step closer, trying to decide where to go in from. The neckline of his t-shirt is rather high, and doesn't look to be very stretchy. With no better option, you grip the hem, lifting it to just underneath his chest.

Even as he's seated—his golden skin creating two truly tiny skin rolls on his stomach—there's an outline of abs.

"This might feel cold."

"It's okay."

Beginning to notice a pattern, you're very aware of his quiet gaze on your face, all until you actually put the chestpiece against the left side of his chest, and your focus changes.

Popping one of the earpieces out, you look at his face with wide eyes. "You're bradycardic?"

"If that means my heart is beating slowly, yes."

"Yeah. A temperature like yours indicates a very high metabolic rate, which in turn means a huge requirement for oxygen. It would make more sense for your heart to beat faster just to keep the tissues from starving."

He only hums in return, a low sound that vibrates up the stethoscope and into the one ear still connected.

"Yet your heart is beating slowly, even for a human. You don't happen to know how big it is?"

You don't realize what you asked him until he smiles at you, his eyebrows raised.

Cheeks burning once more, you resist the urge to slap his shoulder. "Your heart."

"I think it's relatively normal-sized" he says, and you can tell by his cheeky smile and the glint in his eyes that he hasn't quite let go of the accidental innuendo yet.

"You're just a guy, aren't you?" you mutter, rolling your eyes yet fighting a smile as you put the earpiece back in. Good to know that men are men, no matter human or vampire. "I'm gonna listen some more."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest, and you close your eyes in order to focus on something else than his pretty face and the happy grin.

Although the sound is slightly… muffled, Jeongguk's heartbeat still sounds strong. It's slow, almost heavy, but not like it's struggling at all. In a way, his heart is almost soothing to listen to. With a soft hand, you move the chestpiece around, listening to his heart from different angles. Besides the low frequency of its beats, it sounds normal.

"Lift your arm slightly for me?" you mumble, moving your hand and the chestpiece around to his side when he does, satisfied to find the sound clearer there.

You flutter your eyes open to look at the wall-mounted clock, counting every heartbeat.

The seconds pass in silence. Everything is so quiet, except for the rhythmic thumping of Jeongguk's heart in your ears. Count for 30 seconds, then double it.

36.

You count again, letting another 30 seconds pass. He doesn't move, and neither do you.

"Your heart beats 36 beats a minute," you inform him, meeting his gaze and stepping back, his shirt falling back down.

Jeongguk doesn't say anything, he just watches you with those dark eyes and a soft and curious, yet calm, look. To listen to his lungs, you circle the table, carefully lifting his shirt again, from the back this time, and sliding your hand and the stethoscope's chestpiece up the wide expanse of his back. It's like you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You close your eyes again, tuning out the room. "Take a deep breath for me?"

He complies, and the sound of air rushing in is deep, clear, and seemingly bottomless.

"Again, please. Until I say."

While he continues to breathe slowly and deeply, you slide the chestpiece around, listening to all parts of his left lung. Then, you move it across his spine, examining the right lung as well before you step back, letting his shirt fall back down. Even though you didn't touch him skin-to-skin, merely stepping away from his body makes you feel… colder.

"Okay, thank you. You have good lungs," you conclude, walking back around the table to face him. "They don't quite sound… supernatural; just like you have great capacity."

You return the stethoscope to its default position around your neck, locating the notes on the table with your mind reeling. You then stare at his chest, watching the slow and rhythmic rise and fall as you try to form your thoughts into coherent words.

"Since your heart and lungs sound… relatively normal—and by that I mean your heart isn't beating as quickly as a hummingbird's to deliver enough oxygen, and you don't have air sacs providing a far more… continuous stream of oxygen—the magic must be in your blood."

Subconsciously, you tap your pen to the paper in a rhythm similar to that of his heart, your mouth pressed into a thin line as you think.

"But the thing is that… the temperature is also a symptom of an extreme metabolism, but also what would destroy the blood needed to power that metabolism. Hemoglobin and enzymes and all that are all proteins, and proteins are essentially cooked at the temperature you are."

"Human blood."

You meet his eyes. "Yeah, human blood and human proteins would be cooked. Which means… You probably have… different structured proteins or something."

You rub your temple, mind in overdrive. "There are beings around your temp. Birds, specifically volant birds—meaning those that fly—are hotter than mammals, some of them reaching up to 43 degrees, and they have a lot of these… Heat Shock Proteins that protect their proteins from the heat."

You think hard, wondering why a vampire would share features with birds. "Maybe you rely on those as well? Or maybe you just run on… Mountain Dew or something."

Jeongguk chuckles at your slightly desperate joke.

"Sounds cool," he says, tilting his head in an incredibly attractive manner. "The bird proteins, I mean. Why are birds warmer?"

"Flying requires an almost absurd amount of energy and therefor a higher metabolism, and a higher metabolism generates heat. Could I look at your eyes for a bit?" you ask, fighting to keep your nerdiness somewhat at bay.

"Sure." He waits while you fish a penlight from the breast pocket of your scrubs. "What is it that you're hoping to see? Or… not to see?"

"I honestly have no idea." You reach up to turn the overhead light off since you'll need a more controlled light. "You could tell me you either have the vision of a hawk or that your sense of smell is so developed and your vision so useless that you're legally blind."

He grins. "Like a T-Rex?"

"I think that was confirmed to be a myth, actually. Supposedly, T-Rex had very good vision."

He blinks, then laughs softly. "Sorry, seems my dino knowledge isn't up to date."

"No worries, I'm probably too up to date, but then again, animals are sort of my interest." You smile sheepishly, moving on. "Would you say that you see well?"

"Yeah. I think I saw pretty well as a human too, but I honestly can't really remember. I definitely see better now, though."

You nod, pressing a button that lowers the table he's sitting on two notches just to get a better angle.

"That's interesting. In that case, I'd say it makes sense that you see well. Again, birds—coincidentally also dino-descendants—are well-known to have sharp vision. Hawks and eagles specifically have the most advanced eye-sight out of any vertebrae."

"Is there a specific reason?" he asks, gaze tracking the penlight as you bring it to his face.

"Well, they hunt small animals from usually high in the sky—"

But the moment you click the penlight on and shine it at his left eye, the pupil shrinks. A lot.

You stumble back.

"Sorry," you mumble. "That surprised me."

"My pupil?" he wonders softly.

"Yeah, I didn't expect it to constrict that much. Because they're not always that small, right? Your eyes are so dark that I—" you stop, a realization hitting you.

You wouldn't have noticed. He could've walked around with pupils the size of pin pricks, and you would've been none the wiser.

"They're not, no. But I guess it could be a reason there are practically only dark-eyed vampires."

Still a little shaken, you bite your lip, watching him. Without the bright light pointed directly at his eyes, they look human. Very, very dark, but human.

"Deliberate camouflage?"

"Yeah. Our eyes can clearly be jarring."

Clearly.

"Possibly," you mumble. "Tell me, do you see well in the dark, too?"

"I'd say so. I can't remember the last time a place was too dark for me to see anything in."

You nod, your gaze drifting off as you consider the meaning. "Maybe there are multiple reasons? Brighter eyes let more light through, but eyes capable of good night vision are usually more light sensitive. Darker eyes with more melanin block some of that light."

A thought hits you, and you back away from him. "I wonder…"

At the door, you reach your hand out, flicking the light off. In an instant, you're swallowed by darkness, and for the first few seconds, you don't see anything at all. Then, gradually, your vision returns as your eyes do their best to adjust. The small amount of light in the room comes from a window further in, behind Jeongguk. It's of course dark outside as well, but there's a tiny bit of moonlight that leaks inside, and it clings to his dark, motionless silhouette.

Jeongguk sits there. He doesn't do anything in particular that warrants your reaction, but his unmoving shape, watching you, makes goosebumps line your arms and a chill run down your spine. It feels like when you're waking up in the middle of the night, for a second frozen with fear and wholly convinced that the dark mass of clothes on a chair is a man, watching you.

It does not get better when you raise the penlight, holding it next to your face and clicking it on to aim for his eyes. They shine back. Two big, round, bright reflections, like walking in the woods late at night and accidentally shining your light on a silent, unmoving creature, nothing but their eyes reflecting.

You think that's when it actually hits you. Swiftly, you flick the switch back on, relieved when light floods the room. Jeongguk hasn't moved; still watching you like he has the entire night, but the growing discomfort in your stomach is hard to shake.

"You have tapetum lucidum," you state, finding the note to write the findings down. The letters are a little more squiggly than those from fifteen minutes ago. "And your pupils definitely expand."

"Tapetum…?" he echoes. "That's the reflections?"

"Yeah. Present in species that need to see well in the dark."

You keep your gaze locked onto the paper, trying to calm your heart. Faking the teeth, the temperature, and the heart rate would've been hard, but this…? The man sitting on the exam table behind you is not human.

Not human.

Not only that. While present in both prey and predators, Jeongguk's tapetum are not the wide band of prey animals worried about getting eaten, but the circular shape that helps predators track their target in the dark. Just like some sort of shape shifter, he's taken on the look of his prey, both to blend in and to deceive. The name skin-walker flashes in your mind.

"I'm not a threat to you."

His low and soft voice gathers your attention. Of course, he realized. He has his head slightly tilted, looking at you when you lift your gaze from the paper.

"Yeah," you manage to say, forcing your voice steady. "It's just very weird to see all of this, realizing that I am your intended prey. All of these physiological feats just to kill me."

"You're scared."

"I wouldn't say scared, maybe more… nervous."

You don't hold eye contact, instead diving back into your notes even just to collect yourself. Is it a lie to say that you're more nervous than scared? Who knows.

"I'm sorry for what I did at the bar, but you don't have to be afraid of me. I promise."

You bite your lip, weighing the pros and cons. Risk vs reward. You've already established (to yourself) that he probably hasn't had the intention to kill you because if so then he would've already, but things can change. And that's regarding intention; you're sure… accidents happen.

"It's up to you of course," he adds softly, moving his hands over his thighs as he shifts on the table. "But if there's anything else you'd like to see, I'm all yours."

I'm all yours.

You look at him, your gaze traveling down his body in a purely (or at least mostly) curious and clinical way. His neck, his wide shoulders and chest, his muscular arms and legs. You shut your eyes for a brief moment, trying to deny how his subtle submission has yet another little spark igniting. Sure, you might be nervous, but what is the alternative? Send him away?

'You're the most interesting being I have ever and will ever see, but I'm a bit of a wimp even though you've only really been nice, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. Bye!'

Yeah, right.

"Am I the dumbest human you've ever met, or what?" you ask, awkwardly approaching him again. "With the self-preservation sense of something like… a leaf. But… Could I look at your lymph nodes?"

"Out of the relatively few humans I've gotten to know over the years, you're by far the smartest," he answers easily, making your heart flutter. "But yeah, you can. Where?"

You stifle a sheepish smile. "Are you trying to butter me up? Your neck."

He chuckles, shifting on the table to give you more access. While you wouldn't have considered it necessary, he also happens to spread his thick thighs, giving you room to stand between them. If you'd like.

Although you could reach his neck without it, you do decide to take that additional step, putting you between his legs but without touching them. Slowly, you then lift your hands, carefully placing them on either side of his neck.

He's so warm, and it radiates through your entire body and melts you in more ways than one. With one hand on each side, you move your fingers gently, feeling for the lymph nodes under his jaw.

"Your skin feels… different," you murmur, thinking aloud. "It's soft and… smooth, but it feels just a little more… dense? Not something I would've noticed if I didn't already know you were different…" You find the nodes, pressing a little firmer. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No. It tickles a little, though," he smiles. You keep your endeared gaze on his neck, already aware that he's watching you. No matter what you do, his eyes seem to always be on your face.

"Your lymph nodes are much harder than a human's," you frown, moving your index and middle fingers over two nodes in particular. "They should feel like… soft beans, but yours are more like… small stones. In a human or animal, that could mean something like cancer."

Logically, you (insanely!) know now that he's not human like you. He's not human, therefore, the state of his lymph nodes shouldn't automatically be the serious concern it would be for one of your kind.

"You don't have to be worried," he assures, his voice rumbling against your fingertips. God, how easy are you to read?

You meet his eyes, not bothering to hide the worry-induced wrinkle between your brows when already called out. "Are they always like this, though? Rigid?"

Raising his hands, he presses his fingers against his own neck to check the spot you just touched. Your hands graze briefly as you lower yours, but you try to ignore it. Considering how long it takes him to find his lymph nodes, you assume he most likely doesn't check regularly.

"I don't know? I don't usually feel for them?"

As suspected. "Okay, and you're not sick? Haven't been recently?"

"No, but I don't really get sick in the way you probably mean," he says, a small smile tugging on his lips.

You raise your eyebrows curiously, backing up and reaching for the notes. "No?"

"Yeah. The temperature," he reminds you.

"Right." You nod. "Human viruses don't survive in you. But I'm sure there are vampire ailments?"

"A few, yeah."

You put the pen to your lip as you sit down on the chair again, leaning back comfortably. "Like what? Something entirely different or just… viruses like ours, but specifically adapted to survive a hotter host?"

"No, not really. Ironically, most of our diseases come from humans. Do you wanna guess?" he grins.

"You mean, like, diseases caused by factors other than a standard virus?"

"Yeah. If I say that the vampire population decreased pretty drastically in the 80s and 90s? And in the 1800s."

You scratch your chin. "Separate causes?"

"Yeah."

Leaning back even further, you think hard.

"It shouldn't be HIV since that's a virus," you think out loud, trying to filter through human and epidemic history. More specifically, blood-borne pathogens since that seems most logical. "Or Ebola. But it's something I should know? Not like… 'Vampire Disease number five?'"

Jeongguk chuckles, running his hand through his black hair once. "I'd be surprised if you didn't know."

Your gaze locks onto the white ceiling as you cross your arms and tap the pen against your lips. What happened in the 80s and 90s? Something that spread among humans, you assume, although you don't rule out animal diseases entirely.

"Wait," your eyes widen and you sit up straighter. Maybe it wasn't something targeting humans or animals, but both.

"Mad Cow Disease?"

He grins, nodding.

"That makes sense," you breathe, the puzzle pieces falling into place. "Viruses don't survive in you, but Mad Cow is faulty prions. They don't die from heat, at least not your body temperature. And although it's more likely to be transmitted by ingesting brain or spine-connected tissue, they can be passed on from blood as well."

"Yeah."

You pause. "But… how did they die? What were the symptoms?"

"Tremors, stumbling, acting… mad…"

"So the same as for humans?"

"Yeah. It's from the bacteria eating at the brain, right?"

"Prions, but yeah. They destroy them."

"Right. They'd eat at the brain, but since we heal so quickly, our bodies could repair the damage. The problem was that we couldn't truly get rid of the… prions, and so it became a cycle since the prions kept eating and we'd try to heal it."

"But… the prions target proteins found in the brain. Proteins that, in a human or animal, wouldn't survive at your temperature… What were the prions binding to?"

He shrugs. "Honestly, I don't know. There must've been something?"

"Maybe the disease mutated? To also target whatever proteins I'm sure you have? And… you said the population decreased?"

"Yes. A vampire without the common sense to hide, hunting humans… openly and ravenously…"

"You culled them," you conclude, wide eyed.

He nods, his expression having turned somber. "We need the humans not to fear us. Or at least, it's easier to live if they don't, so that's why they can't know about us."

"I see… And for the 1800s… Different cause?"

"Yeah. Technically, starvation was the actual cause of death."

You lean back again, brow furrowed in concentration. What could be the reason vampires starved in the 1800s?

"Logically, they starved because there wasn't enough food. Human history isn't my best subject, but wasn't the human population still expanding rapidly? Unless… was it connected to the Great Famine? Fewer humans mean less blood."

"It's not that. Quantity has never been a problem for us."

"Okay, if it's not the quantity then it's the quality, right? The blood was bad."

He watches you, curiously waiting for you to reach the conclusion, the previous flash of melancholy gone. "Yes, that's how it transferred. I'll help you out; one symptom was a slowly progressing… paralysis."

"So… they couldn't hunt?"

He shakes his head, and your brain works overtime, trying to find a reason. What kind of poisoning occurred in the 1800s that would paralyze vampires? What could make humans poisonous?

Food… disease… environ—

You sit up straighter again. "Were their gums blue? Either humans' and or vampires'?"

Jeongguk nods, the slight excitement on his face contagious. He's so attractive when he smiles like that; his otherwise round eyes thinning and crinkling at the corners.

"Lead poisoning," you conclude, grinning.

Feeling proud of your diagnosis (even with the help), you spin a victory lap on the chair. But as the room spins around you, a thought hits.

You put your feet to the linoleum floor, stopping abruptly. You're not grinning anymore, your eyes wide and your voice investigative. "But… you were alive then? For both of them."

"Yeah."

"How did you survive? Mad Cow didn't kill that many humans, but I'm sure there were a ton of carriers. And lead poisoning?"

"I happened to be living in New Zealand during that time," he explains, crossing his ankles. "It wasn't as much of a problem there as it was in places like England, where they were, you know, feeding ground-up brains to their cattle. Even as it spread to other parts of the world, we were safe."

"Huh," you hum. "And the heavy metal poisoning? Wasn't that incredibly widespread? Mercury in the wallpaper and such?"

"Arsenic," he corrects with a smile. "Mercury was for hats and medicine. Arsenic was the green wallpaper. But to answer your question; I had never left Korea back then, where the use of metals like that wasn't as bad."

"So you were lucky? Happened to be in safe spots both times?"

"No, not entirely. While it was practically everywhere in parts of the West, Koreans used it mostly as makeup. Pale faces and rosy cheeks and lips were all the rage back in Joseon, the higher quality stuff of course made with lead and cinnabar."

Jeongguk shifts on the table, eyes temporarily leaving yours as he leans back on his arms and casually thinks back to what must feel like an entirely different world.

"Us vampires, while having our own societies and trends, also need to keep up with the humans'. Most of the time, we're just as involved and participating."

His eyes find yours again, and you can see that he views at least the makeup trends with amusement.

"Naturally, vampire women painted their faces as well, but their skin didn't absorb the toxins like the humans' did."

"So how did it unfold? I mean, what made you survive while others didn't?"

"Shh," he hushes, pressing a finger to his lips with a teasing glint in his eye. "Patience."

You narrow your eyes at him, wordlessly cursing him. He can't truly expect you to sit quiet?

"It wasn't just the vampire women following the current beauty trends, but a large portion of vampires—male ones mostly—preferred to drink from the pale human women. Besides being rich and therefore superior," he chuckles, "they were beautiful and pure, and their blood had a certain… sweetness to it. While the poor tried to replicate the results, their makeup—made of ground rice or millet—lacked the lead that made it stick to the skin better. They simply couldn't achieve the same… finish."

A chill runs down your spine as he locks eyes with you, and you fight the shiver that threatens to rack your entire body.

A vision flashes before your eyes. Jeongguk, dressed in more time appropriate clothing you can only guess at—maybe the brown garb of a commoner or the traditional silk robes of a nobleman—holding a beautiful, well-dressed woman with pale skin and red lips against her will. His fangs are buried deep in her neck, and she's desperately struggling against his immovable hold, a red comparable to her lips running down her neck.

"After a while, humans would start showing subtle signs of poisoning," he resumes. "Like the blue gums. Back then, no one knew what it was, of course, or if it was dangerous. You couldn't see that they were already years into their decline, their insides pumped full of toxins. The humans didn't think much of it and neither did we. After all, human ailments come and go; they rarely affect us.

"But their symptoms escalated, and they went from having slight tremors to not being able to lift their arms. As the first humans, confused and often… mad—just like Mad Cow—started dying of malnutrition, the first vampires started showing symptoms as well.

"If it had been direct—if a human's gums had turned blue an hour after applying the paint, or a vampire's immediately after drinking from a pale-faced woman—it would've been a lot easier. Or even if all poisoned showed the same symptoms, which they didn't.

"When vampires did start to show symptoms… I mean, we figured it was the humans, since contaminated blood is our biggest, arguably even our only weakness. But we couldn't be sure what it was. Most of us got the blue gums; I did too."

You hear yourself let out a little gasp, completely immersed in his story-telling. Worry and empathy for the past version of him fills you; you can barely imagine what it would be like to see others succumb to some slow and mysterious illness and then find that you might be next in line.

"Still, a few bright vampires theorized whether the blue gums were just one of the first visible symptoms of whatever was killing the humans. Something that also seemed to hit the wealthy harder. Others disagreed and did not plan on giving up feeding from the rich."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Why not? If you suspected they were more susceptible?"

"Sounds easy, right? The problem was that the lead made the humans' blood so sweet it was addicting. Those who had preferred the wealthy blood even before the first symptoms appeared, they were already too far gone and couldn't quit. Some didn't care at all about the possible connection; others argued that the commoners' dirty blood was to blame and that the rich, pure blood was the only cure. Looking back now, I definitely think the denial and insanity were part of the symptoms.

"For vampires like me, whose diet—out of convenience—consisted mostly of commoners, mixed with the odd wealthy… meal, the toxins in our bodies built up over the years all the same. We just hadn't consumed enough to be addicted. As time went on and the demand for the beautiful, rich women rose, they became more and more of a rarity, and a lot of us turned entirely to common blood. Meanwhile, addicted vampires fought and even killed each other over the rich women."

A shiver does rack you at that as you imagine what the women must've felt like. Did they realize that something possibly… non-human was hunting them as one by one disappeared? Did one of them walk through the town at night, looking over her shoulder only to see a shape lurking in the shadows? Did she only survive because she ran when the man who stalked her, ready to pounce, had his head cracked against the stone wall by another of his kind?

You don't know if it makes you feel better or worse that vampires seem to be just as ruthless and ignorant as humans. Creeped out, you lower your gaze to your paper.

"One after the other, they would lose their strength and ability to move quickly—or even at all. But for those of us who weren't desperate for the rich women's blood, our bodies would get the chance to cleanse and heal. I didn't stick around to find that out, though. When I started feeling… stiff, and I one day happened to notice the blue line on my gums, I got nervous. I left town."

Though his story intrigues you, the constant mention of humans as food makes you feel nauseous. Somewhere deep down, you of course realized that Jeongguk had probably fed on humans before—maybe even killed some—but to hear it confirmed so casually? If he's done it before, why wouldn't he do it again? Instinctively, you touch the side of your neck.

"Maybe I should've skipped that story."

You look up, seeing his apologetic smile. Taking a breath, you peer down at the note, absentmindedly folding it neatly in half. "No," you shake your head. "It's just that… I mean, how do I know…"

"That I won't eat you?"

"Yeah," you breathe, laughing awkwardly.

"I don't want to, and I don't need to," he says, his voice firm. "There weren't as many options back then."

While you can believe that society would've changed for everyone, supernatural beings included, you can't say how much you believe he'd prefer the powdered deer blood. Out of convenience? Sure. If he has the chance to drain someone of their warm, fresh, pulsing blood?

"And how… how much can you trust that?"

"You mean if I have instincts I can't control?"

"Yeah. Like the grilled chicken," you mumble.

"I have all my needs and… desires satisfied. It's not tempting to hurt you; I don't want to do it, and I don't need to do it."

"You can control the… urge?"

He tilts his head softly. "Yes."

"Do you promise?" you ask carefully, forcing a small smile to ease the tension you feel.

"Yeah. Honestly, I think I should be more afraid of you eating me than the other way around."

Just like that, most of the tension in your shoulders dissipates, and you meet his amused eyes. "Oh, come on. Can you really fault me for being interested in you?"

He tilts his head again, eyebrows rising when he reconsiders the meaning of his words. "That's not how I meant it. I just meant that… I'm harmless. You're practically a bigger danger to me than I am to you."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But I can't say I don't enjoy the attention." He grins, gripping the edge of the table and leaning forward. You try not to stare at his arms and the veins spanning them.

Instead, you force your embarrassed gaze back down to your notes. "Anyway," you take a deep breath, trying to regain your focus. "So, when you stopped ingesting the lead, the symptoms went away?"

"Yeah. I stopped feeling stiff, and the blue line eventually faded. Unfortunately, a lot of affected vampires never gave their bodies time to get rid of the lead, thus worsening the paralysis until they starved. If they didn't kill each other over the rich humans' blood first."

"How long did it take? How long can you go without blood?"

"Depends. Right now, I reckon I could go like… a few months before I die. Four or five, maybe. A few days without blood and my body cools and slows down to save energy. A week and it starts eating the fat reserves. That would last for about three months."

"Three months on fat? Your fat?" you comment skeptically. Jeongguk is lean, like… 95% muscle.

He smiles. "Yeah, even though I have a rather low body fat percentage, my body is very efficient at breaking down nutrients, so the fat I do have lasts me a long time."

You wonder to yourself if his fat is the same type as a human's, considering he primarily runs on iron. "And then?"

"After that, the body burns muscle, like a human's."

"And then you die?"

"Yeah…"

But there's something in the way he says that—briefly glancing in another direction—that has you narrowing your eyes. "Is there another stage? Or do you just never actually die and you—for some reason—don't want me to know that?"

He sighs, shifting uncomfortably. "No, it's… I don't want to scare you because it's not something you'll ever encounter."

"But…?" You urge, feeling a worry grow in your stomach.

"Before a vampire starves to death, they enter a stage of 'rage.'"

It takes you a second, but then you're throwing an educated guess at him. "Instead of conserving that last bit of energy to prolong life, you use it to go after everything in sight on the off chance you succeed? And survive?"

"Essentially," he nods. "Of course, that didn't happen during the lead poisoning. If a vampire survived long enough for it to kick in, they were typically too paralyzed. They couldn't move much."

Well… you understand why he was hesitant to tell you. Possibly the one thing scarier than a conniving, contemplating vampire, is one that doesn't care and has absolutely nothing left to lose.

"Oh," you swallow. "And… how often does a vampire starve that long today?"

"Never. I haven't heard of anyone starving to death in the last… at least forty years. To be clear, If I stopped eating tomorrow, I'd still be miles away from here before I'd enter any kind of impulsive stage."

There's a sharp pain somewhere in your chest. Right, he's supposed to leave town again. Whatever discomfort you felt hearing about the raging vampires of the past turns into another kind of heavy, sinking feeling.

"Where are you going? If you don't mind me asking?" you wonder, doing your best to sound curious and not like it's the bummer of the century, which it is; both for you and the science you'll never share.

"I've been living in Rio for the last decades, actually. So I'm heading back, either directly, or I take a trip past some friends scattered across Europe first."

"And you're not coming back here very soon, I take it?"

"No."

The finality of his answer surprises you. "Not soon or just… never? What about your house?"

"I'll return someday, just probably not during your lifetime. I haven't decided about the house yet, but it's not that expensive to keep an old house like that."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So you better ask your questions before I leave."

He offers you that warm and handsome smile of his, but you struggle to return it, hoping he doesn't see how uncomfortable his words make you. Or the reminder of truly how old he is.

'I'll return someday, just probably not during your lifetime.'

Because is that not the most melancholic sentence you've ever heard? To him, your life must not be much more than a blip. A fleeting moment while time barely touches him. You can't even imagine what it's like to see and participate in a society yet not really be a part of it. Watch it shift from horse-drawn carriages, candlelight, and emperors to planes, the internet, and democracy. To watch humans live their short lives around you and then die. Their ups and downs, childhoods, teens, adulthood, old age, a never-ending change, yet you stand at the sidelines, frozen in time.

How odd and… uncomfortable.

You look at your list again, adding a small, less prioritized 'mental state?' at the bottom.

"Right, lymph nodes. Well, they were very rigid. I take it because your body and immune system is very active. Maybe they're a little scarred from the lead poisoning and everything."

"Possibly."

While writing a summarized version down, you let out a yawn. Something Jeongguk doesn't miss.

"Didn't you say something about needing to sleep?" he questions.

You look at him briefly. "No?"

"I meant last time we talked."

Dropping your gaze to the paper once more, you do your best to avoid his eyes.

Usually, when you work the night shift, you schedule short naps and frequent alarms. All depending on the inpatient animals and their conditions, of course. If a patient needs constant monitoring but remains asleep themselves, you find other ways to keep busy.

Staying awake certainly hasn't been a problem tonight. Not at all. Until the last fifteen minutes, at least. That's when you felt it start to creep up. And while you're definitely tired now, there's just so many things you need to see. So many questions to ask.

Chuckling, he calls your name; a sound that elicits an extra beat from your weak heart.

"Yes, okay," you admit. "I should rest a little."

"Should I leave?" he wonders, turning to grab his jacket.

You shut your eyes, reluctant to say the words, but sighing in defeat. "I think that's best, or I won't be able to sleep."

Luckily, he doesn't seem to take offense. If anything, his grin widens as he pulls on his jacket and jumps down from the exam table.

"If you insist on kicking me out," he teases, already heading toward the exit while peering back over his shoulder at you.

You can't help but pout as you follow, struggling to keep up. "I'm not kicking you out. Actually, you brought it up."

His strides slow. "Oh? Should I stay then?"

You shut your eyes tightly. "No," you huff, "you're too interesting."

Ego boosted beyond what's probably healthy, Jeongguk laughs. "So I should leave?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, alright. Since you have no time for me, I'll just have to tell you about my super strength, or the fact that I don't really need to consume fluid, next time?"

With wide eyes and suddenly incredibly stressed, you jog to catch up, carefully but very desperately grabbing hold of his black jacket to stop him. You've already made it past the reception desk and to the front door, where he halts.

"No, no, no, hold up. No fluids? At all? Besides the blood, right? Or do you mean you could technically eat the powdered blood and be fine? For how long?"

"I guess it'll have to wait till next time," he sighs in faux sadness, unlocking the door and opening it.

He's halfway through it when you pull on his jacket again. "No, no, no, you can't say that and just leave?"

When he turns to face you, your hand slides from the back of his jacket to clutch at the front. What you're really trying to accomplish, you're not sure. Maybe you just hope he'll give you something.

"You'll be too tired for your next shift, and you wouldn't want to risk the animals' care, would you?"

You shoot him a desperate, pleading look. "I'll call in sick."

"Aren't you already understaffed? Don't think your colleagues would appreciate that."

That fucking smile. So handsome and sweet but so teasing. God.

"When do you get off?" he asks.

"Four a.m.," you answer, hoping selfishly that maybe he'll offer to return to walk you home, giving you more time with him. There are still three whole hours left.

For some reason, he holds his hand out to you instead. Dumbfounded—and with your heart skipping every other beat—you meet his eyes with your confused ones, slowly letting go of his jacket to put your hand in his warm one.

"Text me when you've made it home safely. You have my number somewhere in your files."

Then, he lifts your joined hands above your head. He spins you—a smooth and deliberate twirl—while simultaneously using your raised hand to pull you backward, toward the clinic. The momentum has you stumbling back inside while the glass door closes between you.

As you regain your balance, you catch sight of his happy grin through the glass before he turns, disappearing into the night.

<previous | next>

Not to mention the images of his wet, glistening body, all yours to touch, flashing before your eyes, or the feeling of his skin under your hands. Or the hard, thick part of him you held in your hands.

Eyes glued to the white ceiling, you’re strangely turned on. Being hot for Jeongguk isn’t odd per se, because he radiates sex appeal, it’s more that you’re… turned on and confused. 

What you did in the shower with him felt… intimate on a whole new level. Add in the fact that Jeongguk is the most intimidating man for you to expose yourself in front of, in any way, so the fact that you even set foot in that bathroom surprises you in hindsight. You don’t regret it—still riding something of a high from it—but you’re surprised. And you can't help but wonder what he's thinking about it.

Somewhere, you fall asleep, roused awake at five a.m. to hear Jeongguk quietly walk around the house as he's getting ready for early patrol. Not supposed to be in before eleven anyway, you pull the duvet up higher, closing your eyes again.

You don’t see Jeongguk at the station either, but since he and his partner for the day are patrolling the outskirts of the district, it's not uncommon for them to be gone all day and not return between calls.

“You’re zoning out a lot today, aren’t you?” Sana points out as she's sorting through papers at her desk a few feet from yours. 

“I couldn’t sleep last night, so I’m not entirely present. I need my sleep,” you mumble, reading the same line on your computer for what’s probably the fifth time while yawning. 

“Oh?” she says, and you can imagine her raised eyebrows and following words by the teasing tone alone. “Do I need to scold Jeongguk?”

Play it cool, play it cool. Whatever's going on, Sana can know after you've figured it out first.

“I sleep in his guest room, and he sleeps in his bedroom, so no,” you say, making a real effort not to blush as you scroll the page in front of you.

“Shame.”

Silently wondering whether she’s somehow able to tell that you're not entirely truthful, you shake your head, diverting. “So, how’s it going with Jimin? How many times have you done the deed by now?”

“Well, I’m not telling if you’re not,” she says, and you see out of the corner of your eye how she crosses her arms over her white blouse, posture softening a mere second later. “But honestly, he’s really, really sweet. I was gonna tell you… He’s taking me to meet his family this weekend.”

You spin around on your desk chair. “Oh? That’s a big deal.”

“Yeah. I know it’s kinda soon, but… I don’t know, I really, really like him.”

You can’t help the warm, genuine smile and your excited eyes. Although not quite as unlucky as you, Sana hasn’t had the best luck with men either.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she says, grinning before putting her pen to her lips, her expression turning smug.

“Speaking of men… " she leans forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "Have you seen the tension between Jihyo and Jinyoung?”

“Jinyoung? The… outsourced interrogator?”

She nods, her eyes alert as she raises her head above the monitors to briefly check for eavesdroppers. “Yeah. We ran into him in the cafeteria yesterday, and I swear they couldn’t take their eyes off each other.”

“Oh my god?”

“I know? I haven’t talked that much to him, but he seems like the… confident type. And Jihyo needs a little challenge. Someone who needs a little more convincing before obeying her every command.”

That last sentence has you laughing and shaking your head. If only Sana knew that you're also desperately trying to shake the vision of Jeongguk in the shower; eyes closed and greedily sucking on your fingers while you pump his hard cock. Easier said than done.

Putting the spatula down, you reach toward your laptop, strategically placed in the middle of all the ingredients, moving the cursor over to ‘skip intro.’

Despite barely getting through the relatively lazy work day, you’re in a strangely good mood as you cook dinner. Maybe you’re simply so tired that it’s swung around, and you’re feeling falsely energized?

You don't stop to overthink, even when you hear the front door unlock and someone soon after enters the kitchen behind you.

“Hey.”

Peering over your shoulder, you meet Jeongguk’s brown eyes. His hair is windswept and his cheeks pink from the outside chill. Still in his navy uniform, your eyes linger an extra second or two on the way the dark fabric stretches across his wide shoulders.

“Hi. Are you hungry?”

“Mhm. What are you making?” he asks as he approaches, sneaking a glance over your shoulder and nodding to himself in approval.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

He takes a step back. And then… a silence settles.

You haven’t spoken, or even seen each other, since you said goodnight in the bathroom the day before. After you let go of each other, he kept his eyes closed while you unceremoniously got out to dry yourself and grab your clothes. 

When you look at him now, and he watches you, you guess his rather worried eyes stem from a fear of either making it awkward or that you regret doing what you did. Or maybe that it would be awkward because you regret it.

You’re not sure exactly why, but any tension in your body dissolves, and something like a giggle bubbles out of you. He raises his eyebrows.

“I touched your dick.”

As if you’ve knocked a weight off his shoulders, he relaxes, rolling his eyes sweetly while smiling softly.

“Your peepee, if you will,” you continue, still snickering.

“You did,” he says, leaning back against the counter and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his uniform shirt, revealing a flash of a white undershirt.

As you meet his eyes once more, you wonder if he really finds you as endearing as it looks like he does.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” he informs, running his hand through his black hair. “Gotta compensate for the water we wasted when you touched my wiener.”

You snort, much to Jeongguk’s satisfaction, and then you watch him turn to leave with an amused shake of his head.

Alone again and letting the silence envelope you once more, you turn to the counter to pull up the recipe on your laptop. Hm… There was something else you needed to grab from the fridge?

But suddenly, you feel a presence behind you. Closely behind you. The heat of his body, his breath in your hair. His arms reach around your waist, and when you look down, you see his large, veiny hands reach for one of the jars, effortlessly twisting it open for you with a pop. He’s not pressing himself against you, but you do feel his body move when he reaches for another jar.

“Anything else?” he then wonders lowly, laying his hands flat on the counter before you.

Carefully giving in, you trace the veins on the back of his right hand. 

“No.” You smile to yourself, feeling warm all over. “Or at least not right now.”

“You got something on your mind?”

There’s one thing. Just something you want to make and keep clear.

“It’s just that I… I like this, but I’m hoping you don’t expect too much of me right now.”

“Do you want me to take a step back?” he asks, his voice gentle but taking on a more serious tone. "Did we move too fast?"

“No." You shake your head. "I liked it. And this. And I like you. It just means that I’m still me; a bit messed up.”

“That’s alright.”

“You sure? I’m not gonna wake up in the middle of the night to find you screwing all the lids on tighter?”

Jeongguk laughs behind you, a warm sound that has you swooning just a little bit. “Can’t promise anything. Do I get my hands back so I can go shower?”

You bite your lip, trying very hard not to ask what he'll need them for in the shower.

“You have nice hands,” is what you say instead, letting your fingers trace the prominent veins on both hands.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything, just stands there and lets you touch him.

“You can just leave, though?” you remind him. “It’s not like I’m holding you hostage. I don’t think I’d be strong enough to make you do anything, actually.”

“I don’t know, when it comes to you, I’m pretty weak.”

Although your heart skips multiple beats and sets off the butterflies all over again, you turn around to push at his chest.

“Go shower, Romeo.”

He grins cheekily but backs up, his hands held innocently in the air.

Carefully optimistic, you feel like everything is easier this time around. It’s probably nothing more than you having a better understanding of each other, despite whatever doubt still lingers quietly on your part. Still, you find a new normal over the next few days, tiny, fleeting touches and small tension-building looks. Nothing crazy, but definitely something… more than before.

Besides the flirty looks and small touches, Jeongguk definitely can’t help it, he has to do things for you. He does them without a word even if you’re not there to see. Like when you gather all ingredients needed for dinner but leave to look for your iPad and return to find all the jars already open, their lids lying neatly beside them. 

Or, if you’re present, he might casually snatch a jar or a heavy bag right out of your hands, or even playfully push you out of the way to grab something from a cabinet you definitely could’ve reached on your tippy toes. 

You might roll your eyes, but the truth is that you love it, and you know he can tell. While it might be partly why he does it, helping and doing stuff for you comes very naturally to him, so your best guess is that he’s simply been holding back. Most likely for the same reason he never told you he found you pretty; he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

But now, with your explicit permission, he’s really going to town. What’s better than to get to help you and have a little teasing fun with it?

Another thing he does… He’ll find very well-chosen moments to loosely trap you against him. Most of the time, it doesn’t mean anything more than simply taking a single step closer than what he used to do. Other times, it means… a little more.

Like when you knock harshly on the door to the garage, knowing he won’t hear it over the music otherwise.

“Yeah?” 

Generally, you try not to disturb him in the gym because why tempt yourself? But today, you’re opening the door despite knowing what you’ll most likely witness inside.

And you’re right. As suspected, he’s shirtless, breathing heavily with sweat-slicked skin. One of those wide belts hits the padded floor where he stands in front of one of the full length mirrors, telling you he's been lifting weights.

You’ve taken a single step inside, and he sees his chance, sauntering over with a happy smile. You don't miss the way he briefly takes in your outfit; a rather simple black dress.

Does he need to be close? Relatively, yes, because the music is still playing. Like this? Stopping with his sweaty chest barely an inch from you? Definitely not.

“What’s up?” he asks, out of breath.

You put your fingertips to his heaving chest, and he takes the very slight push as a sign to step back, tilting his head curiously.

“I’m not saying I like it, and I’m not saying I don’t like it," you explain with a slight smile, "but please don’t get your sweat on me right now because I don’t have time to find a new outfit, and Sana's gonna kill me if I'm late.”

Obediently—and clearly not offended—he takes yet another small step back to make sure he’s not touching you. “Right. You said… something about having to be waterboarded to admit certain things again?”

Keeping your fingers on his chest and your gaze on your fingers, you answer him. “Yeah.”

“So what is it?” he asks.

You bite your lip, unsure how he’ll take it. It’s been almost a month since you last asked, and while you haven’t brought it up again, you haven’t stopped thinking about it. He watches you, and you let your eyes travel over his sweaty chest, including the tattoos spilling over from his right shoulder.

“I want to see Hoseong,” you admit, looking up to meet his gaze.

Licking his lips, Jeongguk’s face turns conflicted.

“Can’t you wait until the trial?” he asks, still somewhat catching his breath.

“That could take months," you argue quietly, dropping your hand from his skin. "And I wouldn’t get to talk to him in private.”

“What is it that you want to say? And are you asking my permission? Because I might think it’s a bad idea, but you know I’m not gonna stop you if you really want to go. Though it might be hard to even get in because technically, you’re not exactly supposed to…”

You shift on your feet. “I was hoping you’d go with me? You know people.”

Closing his eyes briefly, he exhales before he nods. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

For a reason perhaps not even entirely clear to you, relief floods your veins. “Thank you.”

“You're leaving now?”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful. Give me a call if you need me.”

“Would you even hear it with all this music?” you ask, gesturing around you.

“I always keep my phone on me when you’re not with me.” His words, more genuine than you expected, have your smile falling slowly. “And I turn off the music the second you leave.”

“In case I need you?” you wonder as quietly as the surrounding music lets you, looking up at him just a little bit heartbroken.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. 

And your heart does hurt as it hits you that maybe you should be digging a little deeper into how he's feeling after everything that’s happened to you. Because, thinking about it, having been the sole reason someone you care for survived must be a certain weight to bear. If he’d missed the call, you’d be dead. That’s it. Reaching for his hand, you squeeze it briefly.

Then you raise your left wrist, glancing at your watch. “I need to go. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

He scoffs. “Do you think I could not worry?”

“Yes,” you smile, backing toward the exit. “They’re all gone now; no need to worry anymore.”

He rolls his eyes. Yeah, you’re simplifying things, and possibly being a hypocrite, but what are you supposed to do? At this point—with the offenders apprehended—your profession, experiences, and education makes you no more than slightly less in danger than the average woman.

“Call me when you wanna come home, and I’ll come and get you. I’ll drive Sana home too if she wants.”

“Thanks. I’ll let her know.”

Three days later, you’re stepping into the building that houses the District Holding Facility. Adjusting the sleeve of your gray business-casual pantsuit, you’re a step ahead of Jeongguk, who, in turn, is all uniformed up. He’s right behind you, except for when you approach a door because then he’s already two steps ahead, casually opening it for you like it’s second nature. You don’t give him more than a nod of gratitude, too deep in thought and discreetly peering around.

The goal is to blend in because, although you both work in law enforcement and Jeongguk got an okay from his friend working the DHF, you’re most definitely not actually supposed to be here should anyone look closer. 

All you’ve done this morning is wake up, get ready, and sit in the passenger seat of Jeongguk’s car, yet your smartwatch has already congratulated you for running a marathon based on your elevated pulse alone. 

“Why do you even want to see him? You’ll be able to relay anything at the trial,” Jeongguk asks as he buckles up and starts the car.

“Yeah, but what if the trial doesn’t end the way we want it to? What if I show up there, where my most vulnerable moments and traumas were the month’s reading assignment—just another woman’s story—and they don’t care? What if they kept something from us and he’ll get off on a technicality? I don’t want to stand there, where everyone knows in detail what he did to me, and risk losing again. If he gets away with this, I don’t even know what to do? I want to see him before that.”

“What are you gonna say to him?”

“Not sure yet.”

You still don’t know word for word what you’re gonna say when you see him, but you’ve rehearsed a few different monologues, just in case. 

“To the right,” Jeongguk says as he holds another glass door open for you.

You walk through, turning right while wondering if a holding facility shouldn’t have slightly more secure doors. Sure, the people being held in the few temporary cells are awaiting trial and not yet sentenced and therefore technically still considered innocent until proven guilty, but you’d feel better if the doors weren’t made of glass.

“Hey,” a low voice greets casually.

It’s a man, dressed in a uniform that’s not entirely different from Jeongguk’s. He immediately gives Jeongguk one of those casual man hugs, and then he looks down at you, offering his hand.

You shake it, listening to the man introduce himself as ‘San,’ and telling him your own name.

“This way,” he says, nodding toward some elevators.

Jeongguk and San exchange more words as you walk toward those elevators, and you get the feeling that this visit is a lot more forbidden than you originally assumed. At least if you consider the quick glances and hushed voices of the men in front of you.

“I’ll have to supervise,” San says after the elevator doors have closed behind you. “I hope you understand why.”

You nod because, although he seems to know Jeongguk—to exactly what extent, you’re not sure—he doesn’t know you. In the most extreme case of Stockholm Syndrome, you could, for all he knows, try to pass something along to an inmate suspected of attempted murder. Or he’s worried about the suspect somehow getting his hands on you. 

Deep in thought, you pay little attention to what the men are talking about as San leads you through the building, where the doors, to your satisfaction, get exponentially sturdier. 

San looks around again before he uses his keycard to open yet another door, taking you into what looks less like a room in a modern court house and more like a visitation room connected to an actual jail cell.

“You have a few minutes. Try to be as quick as you can, but no longer than five or so minutes.”

You nod, stepping forward. Jeongguk and San both follow as you walk inside the barren room. There’s another correctional officer already in there, standing calmly against the wall and briefly nodding your way when you enter.

And there’s Hoseong. 

He’s behind bars—literally, seeing as the thick, black vertical bars block off a large portion of the room—nothing but a minimal wall-mounted wooden bench on his side. You spot some padded chairs stacked in the corner of your side, but you won’t need them.

At first, he looks confused, and you guess that no one’s told him why they put him in this visitation cell today. Maybe the confusion remains even as his dark eyes recognize you, but if so, he doesn’t show it, approaching the bars with a smile, confident even in his orange jumpsuit.

“Don’t get too close,” Jeongguk mumbles from behind you as he and San stop a few steps into the room, roughly in line with the other officer.

You nod, slowly approaching the bars from your end.

The closer you get the more it becomes clear. Despite the smirk, Hoseong looks tired. It’s been a month, give or take, and he looks to be mostly healed by now. What can be fixed, of course. Regardless, he’s thinner now, more sunken in than you remember him.

“Hey, babe,” he greets in an obvious attempt at getting under your skin.

But you don’t answer, still letting your eyes travel over him as you stop in front of the bars, leaving an appropriate amount of space between you.

At first, you thought the only remnants of the fight were the patches of burnt, red skin on his lower face and neck from the hot water. But as you look closer, you notice a slight yellowish tone around his left eye. It looks like the very last traces of an insanely huge bruise. And isn’t he clenching his jaw slightly? One side of which also looks to still be a little… swollen? And those faint pink marks just along his jawline, are they… scars from stitches? If so, the surgeon didn't even care enough to put them under the jawline and out of view, which you assume would be very possible?

All in all, he looks rough. Like he’s exhausted and in pain.

Hoseong lifts an eyebrow, leaning confidently against the bars. You can tell by the way he looks at you that he expects something, probably an angry speech of some kind. And maybe that had been your plan.

But no words come to you; they aren’t needed. As you watch his tired face—a shell of the man you once found handsome—a smile slowly grows on your lips. And it’s not a mean smile or even a taunting smile, it’s… genuine. Relieved, even. You feel your shoulders—your whole body, really—relax as the smile widens.

It brings you such satisfaction to see him where he belongs, trying to play it cool while he’s the monkey at the circus. So you don’t say anything, just smile in that satisfaction, and then you turn to leave, the vision of Hoseong’s now even more confused and almost disappointed face a vision you’ll store away somewhere safe to remember.

Clearly, it doesn’t sit well with him, and you hear him sputter angrily behind you.

“You fucking whore. Think you’re better than me, you little bitch?”

His words don’t bother you, they just confirm that you got under his skin without even really meaning to.

“Jeon,” he shouts, grasping at straws, for what, you’re not even sure. Validation? “You’re not gonna say anything either?” 

You watch Jeongguk’s face as you near him.

Stonefaced, he’s focused on his former friend. “I already said everything I wanted,” he says, clearly referring to when he beat Hoseong senseless. He shrugs. “This is for her.”

And a realization you’ve already come to sinks in deeper. 

Ignoring Hoseong’s angry voice shouting all sorts of insults your way, you let San walk you out of the room and through the same doors you entered through, until you’re in the lobby again. He looks at his phone and excuses himself, claiming he has somewhere to be, before he leaves with a smile and a nod.

“You okay?” Jeongguk wonders.

You nod, and even if he doesn’t look to be entirely buying it, he accepts it. Quietly, you follow him outside, but on the top of the stairs leading down to the sidewalk, you stop. People walk past you, but there’s one thing you have to do.

Noticing that you’re no longer following, Jeongguk turns back, confusion written across his face.

“You want to hurt people that you think deserve it,” you conclude as he stops before you, two steps down and more or less eye-level.

You can tell he doesn’t want to say it.

“Within… reason, yes. I want them to regret what they’ve done and not do it again. Most of the time, prison is enough. I wish I wasn’t for violence of any kind, but… he deserved it. For what he’s done to you. And I needed to give it. I’m not sorry for doing it, but I’m sorry you had to see it.”

He didn’t want to say it but he did because he’s honest.

“But you wouldn’t hurt me?”

“No,” he shakes his head, his brown eyes warm. “Only a certain kind of evil that might not be stopped otherwise. You are not that. Not in any way.” 

You close your eyes, feeling a gentle breeze catch your hair. “And I’m pretty to you?”

“Yeah. Unbelievably so.”

“And you’re capable of love?”

“Yeah.”

You take a deep breath. In… and out. 

Jeongguk, with his anger and desire to hurt is who finally stopped Hoseong. He did that, at least partially, for you. Even looking past the fact that you would’ve literally died had he not showed up, you would’ve never been able to bring Hoseong to justice on your own, even if you’d wanted to. Because, oh boy, had you wanted to. If you could—if you possessed the physical strength—Hoseong would’ve been beaten just as blue, if not more.

What Jeongguk actually did to you back in the day was mild in comparison to what he thought you’d done. Had someone shot your best friend for turning them down, calling the person names would be the least you’d do. It doesn’t mean that you crave blood or itch to hurt just anyone. Or that you don’t have good and soft sides too. You’re not a bad person.

”That date you talked about? I think I’d like that.”

And Jeongguk isn’t either.

Slowly, you open your eyes again, peering at him and seeing the slight surprise on his face. He probably thought his first answer was honest but far from what you wanted to hear.

“Are you serious?”

You nod. “If you’re still up for that, yeah.”

“Of course,” he says, immediately stepping up and leaving just one empty step between you. He looks down at you, something so warm and almost sparkling in his dark eyes. “God, I’m gonna sweep you off your feet, I promise.”

You grin happily, though a little surprised by his enthusiasm. “There’s no pressure.”

“Yeah, there is. So does this mean I can court you?”

“‘Court’ me?” you ask with a laugh. “I thought you were kinda already doing that?”

“Oh, no. I’ve been holding back.”

“You’re really romantic? Like, actually?” you ask in disbelief. You know he’s told you before, and you guess you’ve seen signs of it, but it’s another thing to actually be subjected to it.

He nods, smiling wide. “We’re going home now, right? I should visit the bank and talk to a financial advisor to redo my budget. Need to factor in all the flowers.”

“Oh my God, Jeongguk, stop,” you groan, but you still feel so incredibly warm inside. Is this how it’s supposed to be?

Wordlessly, he holds his hand out for you, and you take it, letting him lead you to the car, where he insists on opening the door for you again.

“You know that I possess both the knowledge and power to open a door by myself?” you ask as you watch him get into the driver’s seat.

He looks at you as he’s starting the car. “I do.”

“Yet you still open every door for me?”

“I want to,” he says, putting his arm on the back of your headrest as he reverses the car out of the parking space.

“What about what I want?”

“You’ve endured some of the worst things patriarchy has to offer, I think you can take the few good things too. Besides, I thought you liked things like that?”

You don’t say anything, just smile, and when Jeongguk doesn’t get a reply, you see how he turns your way, worried that maybe you genuinely don’t want him to treat you the way he is. Seeing your soft but genuine happiness, he grins too.

“So how do you feel about the case now?” 

“Uhm…” you start, having to make an effort to think about something other than Jeongguk and his veiny hands on the steering wheel. “Still a little nervous, just cause you never really know.”

“Yeah. I think he’s going away for a long time, though. You should’ve seen his face in there when you walked away,” he smirks. “The best thing you could’ve done really; he was so upset.”

“I didn’t even mean to, honestly. I guess seeing him like that was all I needed.”

“Yeah.”

“So now we just wait and see how it goes, I guess.”

He reaches for your hand. “It’ll be fine. If not, we’ll just leave the country or something.”

<previous | next>

Five hours and a miracle of life later, you arrive at your apartment, truly exhausted. The building you live in might as well be made of paper given how sound travels between its residents, and you cringe as you turn on the shower. Even if it’s in the middle of the night, you need to at least rinse off the bovine blood and fetal… fluids.

Luckily, your neighbors are understanding, not minding a little late-night noise here and there since the noisy person is a vet who doesn’t mind looking over the resident animals for free.

Once clean, you go straight to bed, and despite having made the discovery of your life—assuming it’s true—you’re so tired that you fall right asleep.

It’s ten-forty a.m. when you step inside the clinic the following day. Originally, you had an appointment at nine and one at ten, but you had to call Yoongi and Nayeon to cover for you. You hate doing it, but you didn’t get much sleep, and a tired vet is one that makes mistakes.

“Feeling alright?” Namjoon asks, leaning against the reception desk. He’s dressed in dark blue scrubs, a physical newspaper tucked under his thick bicep.

“Yeah. Manageable,” you explain, looking between him and Momo as you remove your jacket. Your first patient is in ten minutes, and you have to get changed before that.

“Hey,” Namjoon starts, his now serious voice stopping you in your tracks. “I want you guys to be careful when you lock up the clinic, okay? And when you head home. Don’t be alone more than you have to; you can always call me or Yoongi, even just to talk while you lock up.”

Your eyes fall to the front page of the newspaper that's partially obscured by his tan arm. Right.

“They still haven’t caught the guy?” Momo asks, having come to the same conclusion.

Namjoon shakes his head. “No, and with how it’s going, he could be here any day.”

“How I’d like to be a man sometimes,” Momo complains quietly.

“Yeah,” you agree tiredly. “We’ll be careful, Joon. I gotta get changed now, though.”

It takes you five minutes to swap your jeans and sweater for a set of the same blue scrubs Namjoon wore, and when you leave the locker room, it’s with more than a stethoscope around your neck. In your breast pocket is a folded piece of paper containing a list of questions you take every free second to expand.

You think about him now and then during the day. Your vampire, that is, not the man assaulting women. Luckily, you find it relatively easy to shoo Jeongguk away from your thoughts when you’re with a patient, but occasionally, examining those patients is what inspires your questions, and you make a mental note to jot something down when you’re alone.

Of course, you choose your scribbled words carefully, never mentioning the word ‘vampire’ just in case you forget the note somewhere and someone were to stumble upon it.

As it nears closing time, more and more of your coworkers leave until you’re the only one left. Having had a cancellation after lunch, you got a nearly two-hour break, which you spent napping on the couch in the break room to prepare for the night.

The extra rest leaves you wide awake when Namjoon clocks out at eight p.m., reminding you that it’s Yoongi who will relieve you at three a.m. A schedule like this definitely isn’t optimal, but when four people are home with the flu, you do what’s needed for the animals.

Looking at the two overnight patients—all cuddled up in their own crates filled with soft blankets—you take note of how they’re doing. Their breathing, their temperature, if they’ve eaten or drunk anything, all that.

Concluding that the elderly cat, suffering from a nasty virus, and the younger kitten, having had his broken leg surgically fixated before Nayeon went home, are still doing well, you sit down on one of the swivel chairs. Your fingers dip into your breast pocket, swiftly pulling out the list and placing it on the exam table in front of you.

Two hours go by quickly, and when you look at the clock and realize that it’s already past ten p.m., you also realize that he’s probably not coming tonight.

You try not to be too disappointed, telling yourself that it gives you more time to prepare, but in all honesty, you are disappointed. Whenever he crosses your mind, your pulse increases, and you’re not really sure how to feel about that.

Does he freak you out still? Yes. Though not quite as much. Do you trust him not to hurt you? Not entirely. Maybe he’s not interested in hurting you for whatever reason, or maybe he just doesn’t plan on doing it right now, but for all you know, vampires are bloodthirsty creatures. He could very well just lose it one time, and it would be over for you.

Realizing what you’re actually thinking about has you chuckling out loud. Vampires. Are you sure he’s not just fucking with you? It would still be the more logical scenario. But the more you go over your memories, the more you decide that yeah, vampires shouldn’t exist yet somehow… he’s different. 

He drank blood out of a glass, and his teeth didn’t look normal. If he’s not a vampire, he’s weird. Which, of course—as established—is also why he still freaks you out.

Not to mention how he called you out for maybe being a little too fascinated by him at the end of the last visit. But that doesn’t scare you as much as it mostly brings heat to your face, which also happens if you let yourself think about just how handsome he truly is.

With the list in front of you, you conclude that what you need—and don’t have—is indisputable, scientific proof. You also know that if you get the chance to examine him further, you’re gonna get that proof. What you’ll do with the results and what they’ll mean for you, you’re not as sure of.

Jeongguk does, in fact, not show that night, and you are, in fact, disappointed when you drive home at three a.m., extra careful. The road is empty and silent, but you’re very aware that there’s a man currently assaulting women late at night just about an hour away.

Laying your head on your pillow, tired after the long day, you wonder if Jeongguk will show up tomorrow instead. He did say that he enjoyed the… attention, but you never know.

A loud sound has you practically throwing your pen in the air, soon after clutching your chest and bending down from your chair to pick the pen up from the floor. One look confirms that tonight’s only inpatient animal—a Labrador still slowly waking up from having a foreign body removal surgery a few hours earlier—seems none the wiser.

You walk with quick steps toward the entrance, ready to recommend a pet owner to visit the town’s bigger clinic with more on-call staff unless absolutely necessary. But it’s not a distraught pet owner seeking help after opening hours.

The dark figure on the other side of the locked half-glass door is someone very familiar to you, and you don’t think much before unlocking the door.

“Hi,” you greet as you open the heavy door, already a little nervous to meet his dark eyes.

“Hey. You busy?” Jeongguk asks, smiling down at you with his hands tucked casually into the front pockets of his dark jeans. 

“Uh, no. Just one sleepy Labrador.”

You open the door wider, and he grips the edge, holding it open as he walks through. To prevent anyone else entering the closed clinic, you make sure to lock the door behind him, taking the moment to inconspicuously check him out from behind when you’re done.

He’s wearing all black again; a jacket and black jeans. As always, he’s ridiculously handsome, and you can’t actually tell how much of your quickening pulse is due to being alone with a supposed vampire and what’s because you’re alone with him. 

“You’re alone?” he asks as if having read your mind.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he comments in a low voice, looking around the mostly dark reception.

But then he looks at you, seeing you look at him with wide eyes. “...Cause I don’t think I’m really supposed to be here, and I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble?” he continues.

And while he looks like he truly didn’t mean to come off as threatening, you still feel a chill run down your spine. Because you are alone with this… creature, who, if not a vampire, is still a man. A large, muscular man.

“I know that you’d never say yes to this, but… should I be worried about being alone with you?” you ask with a smile that you assume borders on… nervous.

“No. And I’m being honest.”

Silence settles while you observe him. You’ve been alone with him before, and he hasn’t hurt you. He hasn’t even tried. But the empty clinic can feel eerie on its own; silent and with most lights off to save electricity, and it doesn't help your situation.

“Do you have any silver on you?”

“Huh?”

“That necklace? Is that silver?” he asks, nodding toward your neck, a strand of his black, a little wavy hair, falling across his forehead.

“Yeah?” you say, instinctively reaching a hand up to feel the little teardrop pendant.

“Silver is sometimes the best defense against any of my kind. If we touch it, it burns almost like acid. Hurts like hell.”

“Silver?” you repeat, skeptical.

“Yeah. One of the only things that are true,” he smiles softly.

“What? Like some sort of… allergy?”

“I guess?”

An allergy to a certain metal isn’t unique; in fact, a lot of humans are sensitive to nickel. Silver is supposed to be less of an allergen, but who knows? Would it be impossible? Probably not, though you’re not sure how it would create such a violent reaction. Then again, if it's something that affects all vampires, it would be more of a… species-specific toxicity than an allergy, right?

“Okay, that’s… good to know?” you say, and while you doubt you’d manage to stop him from hurting you either way, it does make you feel at least a tiny bit better.

“And if you’re not a vampire?” you question, smiling.

“Well… You’ve got a lot of weapons here, do you not? Bring a scalpel?”

Oh. Right.

“Why bring up the silver then? If a scalpel would hurt you?”

Looking at him, more specifically the skin of his face and neck, you feel that same skepticism again. He looks human. His skin appears soft. Flawless, sure, but not like something that would withstand a scalpel.

"It would hurt me. Not as severely as a human, but it would do some damage. I brought the silver up because you might not always have a scalpel in hand."

Oh.

He smiles another warm smile, clearly not offended. "Although I understand why you'd still be wary, I don't have any intention of hurting you. I'm no threat to you, I promise."

“Okay,” you nod slowly, taking a step backward. “We can sit in the main exam room. I have to keep an eye on the Labrador.”

“Sure. I’ll… keep my distance. No sudden movements.”

You almost want to roll your eyes, but honestly? You’re grateful that he’s not outright laughing at you. Men are dangerous, vampire or not.

Your footsteps echo through the facility as he follows you back to the room you came from, where crates line one wall and three different exam tables are positioned against the other, chairs and other equipment surrounding them. During the day, the light is set brighter, but since there’s no need during the night, you keep it lower for the animals’ sake. 

Speaking of animals; the first thing you do upon your return is to check on your little patient, seeing that he’s still resting comfortably. 

“Why’s he here?”

“Ate a sock,” you answer, turning around to see your vampire sitting calmly on one of the exam tables, his jacket already off and folded next to him.

“You can sit on a chair if you want to, you know? You don’t have to sit on the table like a patient,” you smile. 

Besides stupidly attractive and drop-dead gorgeous, he’s kinda cute. A dark, muted green seems like one of his favorite colors, and you thank the t-shirt for its service as your eyes linger maybe a second too long on his naked arms.

He’s so muscular and… vascular. The veins run from the back of his hands, snaking up his forearms and even up his biceps.

One part of you longs to take his blood to test, and another part just wants to run your fingers along those veins.

Despite what you said, he stays put. “This is almost like being at the doctor's, right?”

You blink, eyebrows rising as you realize something. “Wait, you’ve never been to a hospital? To get checked out, I mean?”

He shakes his head, looking around as if everything's new to him. You find him dangerously endearing.

“Okay. Well, I’ve prepared some questions and divided them into subgroups because, technically, so many are intertwined, and it just gets messy.”

“What’s the first subject?”

You look at him, hopeful and a little bashful. “Your teeth.”

He chuckles. “Mhm. Figured.”

Trying not to feel too embarrassed, you reach for your notebook on the desk, and you sit down on your swivel chair.

‘Teeth,’ you write in big letters, underlining them before looking up at him.

“So you have essentially two sets of upper canines?”

“Yes.”

“And—Look, I’m gonna assume a whole lot of things just because I can’t ask you to confirm that every single thing that looks human actually is, so please, if I’m wrong to assume something, correct me?” you ask, giving him a hopeful eye. He doesn’t have to, you know that, but you hope he will.

He nods in confirmation.

“So… one set is just your ‘human’ teeth, and the other is… retractable? They’re not… present all the time?”

“No, they retract up into my gums.”

“Like those of a viper essentially?”

“Uh… I'm not sure?” he tilts his head. “Maybe?”

“Sorry, yeah,” you say, remembering that he’s apparently not too familiar with either his own biology or that of the rest of the animal kingdom. Which isn’t actually too weird considering his previous explanation.

“There are vipers who extend their fangs to bite. So, do you need some kind of… stimulus…? to extend them? I noticed that you…” you trail off, scratching your neck with the back of the pen as you recall the night where he scared you shitless. 

“I smelled you?” he raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Yeah… and I noticed them when you drank the blood.”

“I don’t technically need anything like that, but sometimes when you’re drunk, it just makes it... easier. But I’d say it’s nearly impossible to not extend them while feeding.”

“Okay. That makes sense,” you say, writing down his answers. “How… long are they? And how does the retraction and extension work?”

“Uhm… They’re maybe a centimeter long? And they’re attached to some bone, and when we smell or taste blood—or just want to extend them—they sort of… come down and forward?”

“A bone attached to the maxilla?”

He looks at you. “I don’t know what that is. You can just look if you want to?”

You lose your grip on the pen, scrambling to try and catch it but a second later hearing it clink against the floor.

“If you… uh, don’t mind,” you say, trying to keep cool. 

Obviously finding it amusing, Jeongguk grins. “I don’t mind.”

After having located the pen and picked it up—surely a little too red in the face—you roll the chair closer to him. “And, uh… the whole venom thing, is that…”

The unspoken question is… should you be worried, prodding too closely to his teeth?

“We have venom,” he confirms. “But it’s not really dangerous in smaller quantities. Even if you were to cut a finger on my teeth and some would enter your bloodstream, nothing would happen. You need quite a lot.”

“Okay,” you nod. “And… if injected in a larger volume… What would happen…?”

“If you’re strong enough, you’d start transitioning. Otherwise, you'd die.”

Thoughts and more thoughts whirl in your head. So many species go through changes throughout their lives, so it wouldn’t be too weird. Fish changing biological sex, youth requiring different nutrition than adults, and changing their primary teeth to permanent ones; it happens all the time. Certain kinds of transformations, at least.

“But that’s such a big change?” you ask, looking up at him, almost a little bewildered. “You said your body runs on an entirely different… source of energy?”

Species going through changes is one thing; possibly changing species would be another. You make a mental note to ask whether humans and vampires can… reproduce and create fertile offspring, as that’s commonly seen as what divides species.

You’ll ask that… some other time. Maybe when he’s not looking at you like that with those dark eyes.

“Yeah, which is why most don’t make it. I think only about ten percent of people bitten make it through. A majority dies.”

“And you made it?”

Who knows, according to pop culture, some vampires are made whereas others are born.

He smiles a smile that borders on a smirk. “Yeah.”

A smarter person would probably be more cautious, but you’re so curious that the risk doesn’t quite faze you as much as it probably should.

“Okay, uh… I’ll need some more light…”

Standing up, you roll the floor-mounted examination lamp closer, angling it your way without blinding him when you turn it on.

“This is what dentists do?” he wonders before he opens his mouth, obediently baring his teeth for you.

“Pretty much,” you chuckle, taking a step closer and narrowing your eyes slightly as you try to get a good look. “Although the patient is usually lying down on their back, and the dentist is looking down into their mouth.”

He hums.

Carefully looking, you find that you don’t need to touch him to see well enough. 

“Your ‘regular’ canines are a little… narrower than a… human's,” you conclude, feeling odd when you say ‘human's’. “And there looks to be almost a mass above, which I assume is the pocket attached to the maxilla. I assume the other teeth are slightly narrower to make room for the… fangs?”

“Probably,” he says, keeping his lip lifted.

“But it looks… I mean, relatively normal,” you nod to yourself. “Uh… Do you think…?”

“You want to see the fangs?”

“If you don’t mind.”

He shakes his head, relaxing his lip. “I can show you. So there are two ways they extend. One is if I bite someone, then they sort of eject, almost automatically. Or I can make them eject. That’s slightly slower.”

“Do you just… think about something?” you look around, reaching for the notebook you must’ve put away when you moved the light.

“You mean about blood or just the goal to extend them?”

You shrug. 

“Both work but being in the… mood to bite someone is quicker.”

“Like at the bar?” you wonder quietly, sitting back down on your chair and ignoring the way your heartbeat increases.

“I wasn’t going to bite you,” he assures, his gaze warming you. “Wasn’t even thinking about it; I just used your smell.”

You don’t know if you’re crazy for not immediately running for the doors. This is a being that is answering all your questions, describing just how he’s designed to kill you. Even when he’s doing his best to appear friendly, there’s something about his dark eyes watching you that has you on your toes.

You focus on the notebook in your lap, scribbling some words down. “So… when you say you can ‘make’ them eject, how long does that take? Without stimuli?”

“A second? Maybe two? I can slow it down a bit if I want to.”

Nodding, you look up again. “Show me?”

At your hopeful words, he lifts his upper lip—this time with the help of his index finger—and you roll your chair closer to get a good look.

Just like before, his gums are pink like a human’s, and his teeth are very… ordinary. They’re what a dentist would describe as ‘nice’ and maybe even ‘good-looking’ teeth, but they’re not cookie-cutter perfect, even if you factor out that his bite is a little narrow due to the fangs.

You watch, eyes widening when you see something white protrude out of the pocket in his gums, above and slightly behind his normal canines. Standing and stepping closer not to miss anything, you’re silently grateful that Jeongguk tries his best to show you without his hand obscuring your view.

“Oh, wow,” you mumble, more so to yourself, but it evidently doesn’t escape Jeongguk, who chuckles.

And before you know it, there’s a set of fangs on the outside of his regular bite. They’re lower, visibly thinner and sharper, and you think you even see the tiniest drop of something beading at the tip—meaning that they're hollow—before he licks it away with his tongue. Even if the fangs are sharp, he doesn’t seem concerned that he’ll cut himself. Or maybe…

“You never cut your tongue?”

“No,” he says, closing his mouth to speak. “They're not sharp without… pressure. And my skin is very resilient.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And you see?” he puts both his index fingers under his lip on either side, moving them over the root of his fangs. “They’re not like… glued on or whatever.”

The fangs move when he pushes on them, just like a viper’s would. They seem to have a maximum extended angle and position, and when he presses on them with enough force, they glide back, folding up into the pink pocket.

“Wow,” you say again, not realizing it until Jeongguk laughs. 

Blood rushes to your face. “This is quite the ego boost for you, huh?” you mumble, looking down as you write in your notebook. Hiding isn’t really necessary when he just saw you smiling all bashfully, but you can’t help it.

He closes his mouth again and drops his hands to his lap. “I mean… yeah. I hide all my life, pretending to be a human when I’m not. It’s incredibly fun and almost… freeing? to be able to actually show it to someone who isn’t already used to it.”

“Someone who thinks you’re super cool?”

“Yeah.”

When you look at him again, he’s smiling a small, soft smile, no teeth visible at all, and he’s resting his hands in his lap. And you’re just… speechless. There’s no shock, it’s like your thoughts have just slowly and quietly evaporated.

“I…”

It doesn’t make it easier to focus when he’s looking at you. Back when you thought he was just a human, it was easier. Or maybe it felt like it because you were focusing on the cats. This time around, you’re focusing on him. And he just… Gosh.

“I’m sorry, I—”, you shake your head, blinking to come to your senses. 

“You want me to show the other way too?”

Right. His teeth.

“Please,” you answer, thankful. If he realizes what he’s doing to you, he’s not teasing you too much about it. But you have a feeling he knows; his smile is a little too happy for someone who doesn’t.

“We’ll have to wait maybe a minute for them to retract fully.”

“Okay," you say, returning to your seat. "And they just do that?”

“Yeah, if there’s no blood, and no… instinct to bite, they retract automatically.”

You clear your throat. “And… you don’t feel an instinct to bite? Even with me here? I mean, I know you said you wouldn’t, but you don’t feel… anything?”

He grips the edges of the exam table, veins very visible on his hands as he leans forward a bit, thinking.

“I feel it. I can always smell a human this close. But… I mean, do you want to eat everything you pass at the grocery store? Or just the fresh store-grilled chicken?”

“Depends?”

“On?”

“If I’m the bruised apple or the fresh store-grilled chicken?” you answer, smiling just a tad nervously.

“Well,” he says, and you don’t miss how he very briefly looks you up and down. “You smell very nice, but you wouldn’t be the grilled chicken unless I was hungry and you were actively bleeding in front of me.”

“So… You’re saying I’m not up to standard?” you ask jokingly, nerves already lessening.

“No, you definitely are,” he grins. “Would I gulp down liters and liters of your blood if presented to me in bottles? Absolutely, and it would be an absolute feast. But I value you more alive, and I don’t want to scare you.”

It’s possibly the most ‘bare minimum’ compliment ever, but you can’t help but feel… special? Wow, he favors you alive; revolutionary. But then again, if he’s a vampire, always thirsting for blood? If you were to him what a thin, crispy on the outside yet soft on the inside, warm chocolate chip cookie is to you… well, you wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes alone with him.

Once again lost in your thoughts, you clear your throat as you pat your pockets, looking for the list. When you can’t find it, you gaze around the room, seeing it lie on the table at which you sat before Jeongguk arrived. You stand up, retrieving it.

“Right,” you say, mostly to yourself. “I forgot to ask you last time… Your temperature? I can see that you’re probably a bit softer than marble, but are you… cold?”

He chuckles at the Twilight reference. “I’m not. I’m very warm, actually. Warmer than you.”

You raise your eyebrows. Though you realize you shouldn’t be too influenced by the pop culture portrayals, you never considered he’d be warmer.

“How… warm?” you ask, your voice curious but a little quieter as you try not to be too obviously fascinated and attracted.

But instead of stating a temperature range, he holds his right hand out in a silent invitation to feel him, and the air between you shifts. You’ve never touched him. Or, technically you recall him putting his hand over your mouth in that bathroom, but you didn’t exactly stop to consider the temperature of his skin.

Your gaze lowers to his hand. It’s much bigger than yours and so masculine. You don’t necessarily think that you’re always very feminine, but when you carefully reach for his hand, yours are the daintiest and most feminine they’ve ever been. 

At the smallest, tentative touch—on your end, he’s just calmly holding his hand out for you—there’s a spark. It travels through your body, leaving goosebumps on your arms, and you take a deep, almost shaky breath as you carefully grasp his hand. He lets you lead, gently holding yours in turn. 

And he’s warm. The heat of him fills your entire body, like sitting at the optimal distance from a live fire after freezing.

Holding hands may be one of the tamest things you can do with someone you’re attracted to, yet this feels like the most intimate thing you’ve ever done. Although he sits at your hip height, you still have to look up to meet his eyes. The feeling of intimacy doesn’t get any less intense when he looks at you with those dark but soft eyes.

“Are you… Am I supposed to—Am I supposed to like you?” you ask, trying to get your scrambled thoughts out and into words without making too much of a fool of yourself. 

What you meant, of course, is whether vampires actively draw humans to them. Because you’re feeling very drawn to him, and while you definitely could drop his warm hand if you wanted to; you don’t want to.

He smiles a youthful smile, the fangs nowhere to be seen.