“Can you blame me?” you shoot back, your tone light and teasing, “With a face like that, I’m just appreciating the view. And I like seeing you all blushing and flustered.”

“I’m not blushing,” he mutters as if offended, but the grin he hides says otherwise.

Though the dynamics of your relationship have shifted, the essence of your connection remains beautifully familiar. He’s still your best friend, only now, there's a deeper layer of intimacy woven into the fabric of your bond. It feels like a gentle, inevitable progression of the love that has always simmered quietly between you. There's a newfound softness in the way you look at each other, a tenderness in the touch of your hands that find their way together instinctively, drawn by a magnetic pull when you're close. He’s always been there, and maybe, you have since concluded, a constant is what you want. What you need. 

Over time, you’ve come to realise that Jungkook's steadiness is like a gentle glow that doesn't rush to overpower, but instead slowly illuminates what surrounds it. His reliability isn't loud or showy, and it doesn't need to be. It's in the quiet moments, the consistent support, the unspoken understanding. With him, there is no dramatic shift in your world, just the comforting assurance that no matter where you turn, he is there, like a lighthouse guiding you back to shore. And in the chaotic blur of your own life and your thoughts, his enduring presence has become something grounding, anchoring you back when your head is in the clouds.

When it comes to your love life, you've always kept things simple, governed by a single, steadfast rule: the six-month timeline before saying the L-word. That monumental declaration wouldn't escape your lips before month six. That has always been your rule. A timeline not just drawn from caution but from a lack of conviction about what it truly felt to love someone in the all-encompassing way that other people seem to romanticise. Your previous relationships, hovering close to that mark, dissolved before the pivotal sixth month. But you stand by your belief in the saying that when you truly know, you just know, without any second-guessing.

You had been upfront with Jungkook about this from the very beginning, laying your cards on the table with the kind of transparency that leaves no room for misinterpretation. He took it gracefully, in that dignified way of his because that’s just how he is but you knew he’d understand. With that stoic composure of his that masked the depth of his feelings - feelings that had matured over time, unlike yours that were still forming, and still tentative. 

He’d confessed his love for you again one moonlit evening on the beach. It was the midst of winter, and the air was bitterly cold as you both walked back from a party. On a whim, you had taken a detour, ending up by the seafront. Each of you held a handle of a grocery bag, the one that carried your leftover bottles of gin and toffee vodka from the night. The waves crashed nearby, their rhythm mingling with the crisp sea breeze and the sand crunching beneath your footsteps. His breath formed little clouds in the frosty air, and you could see the shine in his eyes reflect in the moonlight. You’d huddled closer as both of you sat side by side on the sand.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” he said, his voice carrying over the waves. “You’ve been my best friend even longer than I’ve loved you. But I love you to the point I would have been content if we’d never changed a thing - anything to have you around in my life and seeing you happy, even if it was with someone else. But being here with you now, like this, is more than I could have ever hoped for.” His words were as raw and vast as the ocean before you, and surrounded by the echo of waves and winter’s chill, you felt a warmth that only he could kindle. His words were as sincere as the first time, but this time clarified, unlike his drunken confession that he barely remembered, but still heavy with the weight of emotion he had harboured for so long. But with it came a gentle reassurance: he didn’t expect, nor did he need, an immediate reciprocation. “And I know you don’t feel that way about me. But I’m here, no matter what it is you feel towards me. I’m happy just being with you.” 

You’d melted at that. You gave his hand a squeeze, interlocking your fingers with his. “Jungkook, being your best friend is one of the easiest things in the world. What I feel for you, sometimes it confuses me, but whatever it is … and I know I’m not fully there as you are yet. But it’s real, and it’s deep, and it’s growing each day. I’m getting there.” Your words had hung between you, a tethered promise in the making. 

You’d known he was content to wait, giving you the space to let your feelings blossom naturally, unforced and genuine. It had been this patience, this unwavering steadiness of his love, that touched you deeply, challenging every preconceived notion you held about love and its mysterious timeline.

.

“I think I have feelings for you,” you tell him one evening, as you both lay sprawled across his bed, one of his playlists softly playing in the background. His room is dimly lit, the glow of his lamp spilling a warm amber. The ambient lamp was a recent addition he bought since you were spending more time in his room and him being familiar with your spite for overhead lighting. 

Jungkook blinks, taken aback by your suddenness. “What made you reach that conclusion?”

“Well,” you start. “I can say I like a ploughmans sandwich, and I can also say I really like a ploughmans sandwich, and I know what that feels like, but I can’t exactly say I have feelings for a ploughmans sandwich, you know? And what I feel, I know I like you more than just really liking you.” 

His eyes soften as he processes your words, the corners of his mouth curling into a hesitant smile. 

“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice a mixture of hope and surprise.

“I am,” you affirm. “It's different with you. You're not just comfort food. You’re the homemade kind but you’re just better, better than a sandwich I impulsively make just because it’s my favourite and it's 2 A.M. and I need something. Does that make sense?”

He laughs softly, his initial shock giving way to a warmth that radiates from his eyes. 

“It makes perfect sense.” He reaches across to squeeze your hand. It’s a sweet, genuine moment, wholesome in its simplicity. Jungkook is a touchy lover. Yet, you noticed how sentimentality always seemed to kindle a spark of desire in him, a stirring deep within that brought a slightly more insistent touch to his hands and a need in him to take your clothes off. This had been a pattern - a very amusing pattern you’ve noticed in him.

“Ugh, you’re so handsy.” You roll your eyes but the bells of your laughter give you away while he pulls the edge of your shorts. But with him it never took much for you to be persuaded, charming and handsy as he is. His fingers linger with playful intention, tracing a line so light and teasing along your waist, that it has your back arching to have him closer to you.

“Behave,” you murmur, even as your voice and your body betray you. His grin widens, eyes glinting. 

“I'm trying,” he says, his voice low, but not exerting any effort to sound convincing.

You draw him in, giving him a kiss that was deep and profound. And for the second time during that evening, you lift your shift over your head. 

.

You thought you knew him well, but soon you began to notice the little things. Jungkook, though sweet, showed his competitive and mischievous sense of humour more after you started dating. It was like (as said by Shrek) peeling the many layers of an onion and uncovering the deeper facets of his personality (except, of course, Jungkook isn’t an ogre). At the indoor crazy golf course, his modesty disappeared and he delighted in teasing you whenever you missed a shot, suggesting a scoring system where points were awarded for missed holes instead of successful ones. Of course you hit his ankle with your club after that but despite his playful jabs, it was difficult to resist his charm.

When it approaches the fifth month you begin to question your timeline. The pace at which you caught feelings for him, and the depth you’re plunging into, is admittedly terrifying. Despite you approaching this relationship with an open-mind, it’s a sobering and an almost embarrassing realisation. What is it that you’re scared of? That’s the question that’s been bearing down on your mind.

You’ve been invited for drinks at the beach in the evening. A friend of a mutual friend’s birthday, of whom you couldn’t remember their name but assume it’s the guy wearing the glittery party hat and sash that says Birthday Bitch on it. It’s unlikely Jungkook could make it tonight as he has a deadline due at the end of the week, but promised he’ll come down later if he inevitably becomes sick of staring at his computer screen. In the meantime, you try to find familiar faces. 

You spot Yerim, sitting criss-crossed and staring at the sea. Her hair is slicked-back into a ponytail, no longer the bleach blonde you’re so familiar with, instead a lovely sheen of black, which is definitely a change. In the time you’ve known her she’s never had her natural hair, always dyeing it, but she’s just as pretty as she’s always been. It’s been a while since you last spoke to her but she greets you warmly, standing from the sand and dusting herself off to pull you into a hug when you endeavour for her eye contact. 

You talk to each other about many things, catching up with what you both missed from each other’s lives. Truth be told, you stopped talking as much after her and Jungkook broke up. When they distanced from each other, you saw Yerim around less and less. 

She’s on her fourth can of beer, and her face is a warm flush. “I miss having him around, you know,” she admits later on. “That’s probably the main thing. Not the gifts, or the attention, or the sex. Just him. And I never properly said thank you … to you. I know how close you were to him and I know you distanced from each other on purpose when I dated him.”

“Well, would have made it easier than having a conversation with you telling me to fuck off, you know. But I get it. I do.”

You had done it out of respect for her, and her relationship with Jungkook. You had told him that you couldn’t be with him alone like you used to, and if you did spend time together, other friends would be present if Yerim wasn’t around. You could tell at the time he was a little upset, but ultimately could see your reasoning. It made sense. He invested a lot in his and Yerim’s relationship. He wanted to make it work, so badly, but she broke it off. 

Yerim shifts uncomfortably, opening her mouth as if to speak, then closing it again. She looks like she’s summoning the courage to say something, and you have a sinking feeling you know what it is. 

“Are you and Jungkook together now?” 

And there it is.

“Only for about five months,” you tell her. You’re honest about it, you owe her that much. 

She nods slowly. “Did he ask you out?”

“Uh … well. We kind of both did, in a way. He was tipsy, then the messy, awkward stuff happened where he tried to avoid me for weeks and couldn't look me in the eye, etcetera, etcetera, and then I confronted him about it. Then I thought, we’re already friends anyway so why not? And here we are.”

You exchange a knowing look, then share a small, relieved laugh.

“That’s really great,” Yerim finally says. “I mean it.” Her smile reaches her eyes, and the expression on her face is all soft lines, free from malice or hidden jealousy. It’s what you’ve always admired her for, and why Jungkook was drawn to her in the first place. She’s a kind person, not just seeing, but finding the good in circumstances and in people. When she broke up with Jungkook, he was devastated and turned to you for comfort. It took him time to heal, because he just couldn’t understand where he went wrong. 

“Yerim…” you begin, nerves tightening your throat while she looks at you with quiet expectation. “Why did you break up with Jungkook?” 

To your surprise, she giggles.“To fully answer that I have to go through the entire emotional turmoil I went through. I was so torn about it, I hope you know that. I didn’t want to break up at first. To put it simply, and I know this is so fucking cheesy, but I thought to myself - if you and I were hanging off the edge of a cliff, and Jungkook could only save one of us, who would he pick?” She gives you a small, knowing smile. “Even in that impossible situation, I knew it wouldn’t be me.”

“No, Yerim, he would have tried to save both of us.” 

She turns away, her gaze settling on the sea instead. “Maybe. But it’s always been at the back of my mind. It always would have been at the back of my mind. I know it was partly me being insecure and I know you drifted yourself from him for me so I wouldn’t feel that way, but I knew what you meant to him. He was such a good boyfriend, but I didn’t have him as a best friend the way you did. And I realised I could never really get past that.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looks at you, her expression gentle. “Don’t be.”

There’s a pause.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she finally says, her voice steady. “I always knew he deserved someone who could be everything for him. A best friend, a partner, someone who really understands him. And that was never going to be me, not completely.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You were so important and meant so much to him, Yerim. You still are. He was so happy with you.”

She nods, her dark eyes shining with something that looks like acceptance. “I know. And that’s enough. I want him to be happy, and if that’s with you, then I’m genuinely okay with it. I have always been okay with it.”

The sincerity in her words touches you deeply, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed. The love, the loss, and the resolution that seems to settle between you.

“Thank you,” you say, meaning it more than you can express.

She reaches out, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Just take care of him, okay? Keep him in line. All drunk phases of him.”

You exchange a laugh, and you both sit there for a moment longer, the unspoken understanding between you finally at peace.

Jungkook comes down to the beach about two hours later. 

There's a strange flutter in your stomach as your eyes search for him. His gaze sweeps the area, scanning for you amidst the crowd. A few people greet him as he arrives, including Yerim. You know they haven’t really had a chance to talk since the breakup. Not like this, where they can genuinely connect. You notice the subtle tension in his posture as they exchange a few words, his shoulders stiff at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to relax. You stay back, letting them have their moment. 

When he finally spots you, his face lights up.

“Yerim’s not blonde anymore,” he says, his tone wrought with disbelief. She had been bleach blonde the entire time he knew her, and the change seems to have caught him off guard.

You laugh at his astonishment. “I know right? I think black hair really suits her.”

“It does,” he agrees, nodding slightly as if still processing it. You notice his expression, suggesting he’s thinking, perhaps a memory or an inside joke only him and Yerim shared in relation to it. Don’t they say hair holds memories? You don’t pry or ask him further, sensing that this brief flicker of sentimentality, is something that belongs to them only. 

“How are you doing?” he asks you, leaning to kiss your temple.

You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself. “I was about to head home. It's getting a bit chilly. Sorry, I was going to text you, but I got distracted.”

“Don't worry about it,” he replies, his voice gentle. His hands interlace yours, which doesn’t help the awful fluttering in your tummy. God, this is awful, after all that talk that you didn’t like him that way all those months ago and now you feel like you’re a naïve teenager tripping over your own words all over again. 

“I would've come anyway to walk you back,” he tells you, “I’m not really in the mood to drink tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t want at least one drink? You’re already here,” you suggest, though part of you is already eager to leave the noise behind.

He shakes his head with a small smile. “Can’t be arsed. I just want to lie down.”

“You know what, me too.”

.

When you’re both back at his place, you both make a beeline for his bed to collapse on the mattress with a shared sigh of relief. 

“I’m so tired. This assignment was driving me insane,” he groans, flinging an arm over his eyes as if to block out the world. 

You roll onto your side to face him, watching the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. “Are you almost done with it?” you ask.

“Yup. All done, actually.”

“That’s actually very impressive.” 

He peeks at you from beneath his arm, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Reaching out, he tenderly strokes your hair, his fingers gentle and reassuring.

Despite the comfort of his touch, your mind drifts back to the conversation with Yerim. Her admitting that she missed him and his presence in her life, weighs heavily on you. It forces you to reflect on your own relationship with him. Losing Jungkook, or no longer having him in your life, makes your stomach sink with dread. Even though it was your idea to date each other to see how things would go, because you trusted him, you realise now just how devastating it would be if you ever had to break up and couldn't remain friends. The idea of a life without him, in any sort of form, feels unbearable.

You shift closer to him, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, needing the physical connection and the comfort of his warmth to anchor your swirling thoughts. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper, the vulnerability in your voice surprising you, “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

His hand pauses in your hair, then resumes its gentle caress, a quiet understanding passing between you. 

“You won’t,” he murmurs, his voice soft but resolute. “You’re my best friend, I’m not going anywhere.” He pauses, his hand trailing to trace your cheek. “And I love you.” He doesn’t anticipate your reply, like the many other times he’s said it, just kisses you deeply.  

In his arms, the exhaustion from your walk along the beach finally catches up with you, and you drift into a peaceful sleep. At some point, you feel him move beside you. He gently lifts you to free himself, careful not to disturb your rest. You peek through half-lidded eyes, watching as he reaches for his noise-cancelling headphones on the bedside table. The quiet thumps of footsteps from the room above - Jimin’s room - fill the air, a familiar annoyance for Jungkook. He has always been sensitive to noise, a trait that often makes you question why he chose the downstairs room, knowing how much he despises the sound of footsteps overhead. He always argues that he preferred being closer to the kitchen and thought Jimin wouldn’t be a heavy walker, but it didn't take long for that assumption to be proven wrong, and now he’s stuck with the downstairs bedroom with the stomper in the room above. 

As he settles back beside you, he gives you a tender peck on the forehead before lying on his back, his headphones securely over his ears. You shift slightly, turning to face him, and find yourself captivated by the peaceful rise and fall of his chest, the even rhythm of his breaths. 

It hits you all at once. That what you feel for him is far more profound than you’ve allowed yourself to admit. Far bigger than just feelings for him, far bigger than plain fond affection for a ploughmans sandwich. No, it’s something far deeper. Something that has quietly, but steadily grown into something that has wrapped itself around your heart, anchoring you to him in a way that’s both exhilarating and, strangely, not as terrifying as its fast development had been. The realisation is both startling and liberating.

You continue to watch him, your chest tightening with the weight of this newfound understanding. The words are right there on the tip of your tongue, and though your heart is pounding, you take a deep breath and whisper, “Jungkook?”

When he doesn’t respond, your heart sinks slightly, but of course he’s not responding, he’s wearing his noise-cancelling headphones. You almost laugh at yourself for forgetting something so silly. But you persist, because maybe saying it now, even if he can’t hear you, will make it easier when you find the courage to tell him later when he’s fully present. 

“Jungkook … I don’t think I can follow my six-month rule.” You take another deep breath, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. This was a big deal. “Jungkook, I think I love you.”

His eyes shoot open, a look of surprise and curiosity flashing across his face. 

“What did you say?” he asks, his tone laced with disbelief. 

He pulls off his headphones, tossing them aside, his eyes locking onto yours with a gaze so intense that your breath catches, a mix of confusion and realisation dawning on you. 

“I think I love you,” you repeat, the words coming out more clearly this time, though your expression betrays your incredulity. “You could hear me that whole time? I’m gonna whack you, you idiot.” You laugh softly, nervous but relieved.

A slow smile spreads across his face as he shifts closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I could hear all of it. Sorry,” he says, the warmth in his voice wrapping around you. “I love you too. But you already know that.” 

You nudge him. “I can’t believe you made me say it twice.”

He chuckles softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. 

His voice is low and sincere. “I needed to hear it twice to make sure it wasn’t just a dream.”

You roll your eyes. But there’s a softness in your gaze as you look at him. 

“Well, it’s not a dream.”

He closes the small gap between you, his forehead resting gently against yours. 

“I know,” he says, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’m so glad it’s not.”

.

“I really wanted to talk to him in person … I don’t know, do you think I should have waited a few days?” You turn to Namjoon who shakes his head. 

“It’s good you came here. I think it would have left him to assume the worst and overthink otherwise, and you know what he’s like - better to confront him sooner than later. He’s been in a kind of sad, mopey daze since this morning.”

Your lips purse together as you mull this over. “I don’t necessarily want to confront him about it now, not if he doesn’t want to yet. I just want to see him and … make sure he’s ok. Because you know, that … overthinking thing he does.”

The upward lift of Namjoon’s lips is soft, the same kind of softness that’s perceptible in his eyes. The look reminds you of Jungkook’s own gentle demeanour. “I think seeing you here will disorient him a litte, but I think deep down he’ll be relieved. ” 

He invites you to sit in the warmth of the lounge downstairs while you wait. The house of Beta Tau Sigma is cosy, and your favourite visits are always during the winter period when they’d decorate the interior, reminding you very much of the setting of a classic Christmas movie. Alas, however, it isn’t winter, and there are still strewn cups around and a broken lamp on the table in front of you; consequence of the party they hosted the previous night.

You’re surprised Jungkook remembers. He’d been so far-gone yesterday, yet you woke up this morning to four successive texts from him -

i’m sorry

im so so sorry.

can we talk

please

You’d thought over a tactful reply; taking into mind Jungkook: despite the calm, rational front he has - is emotional, an individual with a soul as sensitive as they come. You had to be careful with what you said, but soon after aborted all efforts when you’d found yourself backspacing each time. You prefer face-to-face conversation, and for something like this - you couldn’t possibly venture any other approach that would be befitting. For anyone else, perhaps. But Jungkook isn’t just someone else. He’s your best friend.

You check the text in reply that you’d left for him from two hours ago, which is still left unread.

 hi jungkook i’d love to talk

are u ok

Sleeping it over had dulled the shock from the night before, as hearing it from him had been a double whammy for both your head and heart. You hadn’t known what to think, hadn’t known what to say.

In his tastefully tipsy state he’d been very happy. The chirpy go-lucky sort of happy that made you coo. Tipsy Jungkook is sweet and endearing, more affectionate and made it his mission to pull you with him to the karaoke machine. You’d been friends with him long enough to know that he could sing. He’s a soft singer; has a voice that could be lullaby to late sleepy evenings, it’s one you’d heard snippets of because he did it without conscious thought; he hummed in the car, while waiting in line - one of his many mannerisms that makes clear when he’s in his head.

“ABBA? Good choice,” you’d commented, after he jabbed the numbers on the remote. He budged over so you could sit beside him on the armchair. So cramped and close that you moved to drape your leg over one of his, and he welcomed it. “Not their most popular song, but definitely one of their most soulful. That’s a good one, it’s one of my favourites,” and then he stilled. 

At the cease of his movements, you’d found your spine straightening just slightly, as if on guard, but for what you hadn’t been sure. You were about to ask him if he was ok, only to be taking the brunt of his bright puppy eyes that smile at you.

“Me too,” he’d said, with that characteristic gentleness shining in his orbs. 

A few hours later, he’d morphed from sweet boy-next-door with the angel voice to himbo football jock slash and quote “pussy-whisperer,” courtesy and words verbatim of Park Jimin, who vibed with Jock Jungkook like a long lost brother. 

The amount of girls that suddenly flocked to him and sat on his lap had you reeling in hysterics to the extent that you had to bury your face in Hoseok’s shoulder. Even when Jungkook’s on the football team, you’d never thought of him once as a jock. Didn’t they say all jocks are athletes, but not all athletes are jocks? He’d never lived up to the greasy college stereotype. Turned out maybe some alcohol was missing in the mix. Was this what you were missing? Who knew he had it in him?

“How many have you had, man?” Hoseok had asked, and Jungkook grinned, mouth lop-sided, before then thwacking him solidly on the back. 

“I’m good, thanks for asking, man.” 

“That wasn’t what I - ok,” Hoseok winced, clutching at his shoulder blade, and exchanging a bemused look at you. 

You were alert to the sliding gaze of Jungkook on you. He slid into the chair close beside you, and you propped your elbow onto the counter. Head resting in your palm, you’d anticipated it.

“Hey, cutie.”

And there it was.

Your mouth twitched during your attempt to stifle your laugh, but you were eager to play along. You straightened, not shy to look him direct in the eyes, even when his own wandered to your midriff. “Hey.”

A moment’s pause, before he let out a wistful sigh. 

“Holy shit, I love your boobs.”

Hoseok spat into his cup, a succession of coughs after.

“No, I’m just saying, from a non-biased, impersonal point of view …” He made a vague, rounded motion in the air with his hands, “- they’re really nice. I’m saying this objectively.”

“Objectively,” Hoseok wheezed. You aimed a calculated kick at his ankle.

“Thanks! They’re not much but they’re cute, I grew them all by myself.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, a critical eye on you and his head bobbing solemnly. “You did a good job.”

“Oh my God,” Hoseok was crying; head ducked, full-blown tears of laughter, ears pink and slapping the countertop. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Yours are pretty neat, too,” you told him. 

He looked down at the outline of his chest. “You think so? I’ve been working out but they could do with a bit more volume.” 

Hoseok was doubling over, desperate to leave but at the same time rooted to the spot, thumping his chest to stop himself from choking. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna die if I stay any longer. See you, guys.”

He left, leaving you alone with Jungkook and a few others in the kitchen. “You alright?” you asked, and he nodded again, smiling tiredly and head lolling a little to the side.

“Did you like the song I sang for you earlier?” 

“You sang it for me? How sweet of you,” you cooed, cuddling up to his side. “You know, if you wanted to touch my boobs, if you asked I think I’d be ok with that.”

He seemed hesitant. “You’re bullshitting.” 

“Ok, maybe I am a little,” you chuckled, feeling the rumble resonating from his chest. 

“Seriously,” he murmured, and for a millisecond, you swore you detected the tone of the Jungkook - not this Jungkook who was a confident force, but the one you were most familiar with, “I think I’d -”

Jimin’s voice boomed above the stereo, “Jungkook! It’s your turn! Get your ass back here!”

A heavy sigh was drawn out from him as he slid his chair back. Though, he waited for you to lift your head from his chest before doing so. 

“See you.” He winked at you before following Jimin’s ongoing calls. Though, more of a wink and a half. He never could wink properly with just one eye, both had to be involved.

Then came the finale.

The most recent drunken Jungkook phase - one you’d never witnessed beforehand. If there was anything you could have concluded, it was that beyond his sober level-headed exterior, he must have a lot of pent up anger. Jungkook in drunken phase three transitioned between a three colour spectrum of moods and you’d barely caught up. 

Exhibit one -

“The ocean is so important!” he cried, literally cried as he began bumbling about blue whales and the sheer plastic in the ocean, morosed how the first piece of plastic ever produced still hadn’t decomposed. 

It was no help that Namjoon enthusiastically joined in - the fucking nerds, until Jungkook started bawling and knocked back the salt shaker on the countertop mistaking it for a shot of tequila. 

You’d panicked and dragged him to the nearest bathroom to wash it out of his eyes. The seconds that followed afterwards, was you rubbing his back while he sobbed and puked the hearty contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Exhibit two - 

“If any dude is giving you a hard time, chances are - you’re hotter than them. And on top of that, they made you cry, making you a better person than them!” he proclaimed. Once you’d helped him clean up, he’d bumped into Ola - a girl you recalled was in his media class, and was crying outside of the door of the bathroom you and Jungkook had been in. 

She’d sniffled her way through a story about a boy she’d been talking to for six months, and Jungkook was as revved up as his ocean speech while he pep-talked her about how heartless the guy was; that he gave good guys a bad rep; and that she simply deserved better. Of course, you’d agreed with him. It sounded all too familiar to something you’d said in the past, though who could blame him for adopting your mannerism of speech when he’d spent so much time with you?

Exhibit three -

“Hey, Chad! Why the fuck do you hate poor people?!”

You were mortified. “Jungkook! Literally, where did you get that conclusion from?!” 

“He plays lacrosse and owns a golf cart!”

You groaned, yanking at his arm away from Chad - captain of the boys’ lacrosse team, and who’d also fortunately passed out on the couch, otherwise Jungkook for sure would have had his face beat in. Though, you’d like to think that Jungkook would win, for sure, but you promised sober Jungkook that you’d take care of drunk Jungkook. 

So that was that. 

By now you’d contracted a stress-induced migraine, by which your own best friend was accountable for. And you thought - by God, did he have to deal with this every time you went to a party together while you’d run rampant? This had been an eye-opener, and you should definitely be considerate next time because drunk people were babies, and not in the cute way either.

And finally: exhibit four.

“Hey.” 

You endured all the pet names, had endured being called the Apple of his Eye, Angel Face, and his Compass Star, because flirty Jungkook had been throwing pet names around all night. You’d seen and heard it yourself. But nothing would have prepared you for what he’d say next. 

You glanced at him, just a second to look away from your phone screen. “Yeah?” 

His eyes drooped, form slouched, and head atop his folded arms on the countertop. It was just after midnight, and the kitchen was a quiet lull, besides you and Jungkook who were sitting together; and then there was Jimin and Taehyung, and Seokjin by the sink in their own private conversation … and whatever it was that Taehyung was doing. Admittedly you hadn’t been paying much heed nor did you endeavour to find out.

Body curling into himself; Jungkook looked so much smaller than when he stood to his full stature. 

“I’ve got it bad,” he mumbled, wistfully, “real bad. So bad - I’m doomed bad. End of the fucking world baaad.”

Your hands rubbed at his nape, tender fingers toying with the longer hairs there. He’d been growing it out, and he looked good. You tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “What makes you think that?” 

Again - the glossy puppy eyes that gazed up, contemplating you like you’d fallen from heaven. 

His smile was meek, as shy as the drawling voice that spoke, “I … I really think you’re my soulmate. I don’t like saying it too much but I … like, love love you, but we’re only best friends. Someday you’ll date for real - instead of flings, I’d have to accept it. I don’t think I’ll be ok, but I will be, jus’ will take time to get over you. Have done it a few times before. I’ll be ok.” 

Your hand stilled, fingers still tangled in his locks. 

Rendered motionless, like air had been punched out of you from the stomach, unable to bring yourself to salvage the words. Breathless, all you could bring yourself to do was to weakly call his name. 

He hadn’t heard you, and he yawned, leaning into your touch. His body trembled with his giggles. “One time, you were sooo drunk. You were so drunk, don’t think you remembered - blacked out. You flirted with me that whole evening. After that … after that I became obsessed with you forever.”

It was with a sinking stomach when you’d realised that you couldn’t recall that night at all. 

Gulping, you peered down at the mop of tangled hair on the countertop, wishing for nothing else but to properly see his face, but it was half-hidden where he’d snuggled into his arms. 

“Jungkook?” you whispered, gently moving away the hair that flopped over his eyes. “Jungkook?’

No reply. Just steady, heavy breathing.

No reply, because he’d fallen asleep.

It’s a splitting headache that rouses Jungkook from heavy sleep. One of those slumbers where he wakes up groggy, as if he hasn’t rested at all despite it being hours since. He tries to get up, but to no avail. His limbs are leaden heavy, and he collapses back onto his bed within seconds of mustering the strength to hoist himself up.

There are a series of knocks on the door but what’s the point of knocking when Jimin barges in anyway. He snickers seeing Jungkook: a sad, spectacular heap on the bed with a bitching hangover to boot.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” 

“Shut up,” Jungkook drawls, barely recognising the cadence of his own voice. He throws an arm over his face, brow tightening as he shuts his eyes to recall anything that happened hours prior, but even that’s too much of a Herculean effort that his brain isn’t willing to commit to at nine in the morning. Hangovers are not worth the night before for this - this is a different kind of hell. 

Jimin places a glass and a jug of water on his bedside table. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.” 

“Thanks,” he replies. He at least has enough strength to reach for the glass. When he sits up a hand goes instantly to knock against his temple, as if it would stop whatever invisible vice it is that’s squeezing and hammering at his brain from all directions. He notices Jimin’s narrowing scrutiny on him. 

“You remember anything from yesterday?”

“Honestly, not really. Just some bits here and there.” 

“Blacked out, huh.” If Jimin hesitated it’s only for a split second, he stuffs a hand into his hoodie pocket for his phone. “There’s something I wanna show you. Not sure if you’re gonna like it much.”

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, but Jimin proffers a look, and Jungkook frowns. “... Right?”

Jimin licks his teeth in a way that makes Jungkook’s stomach drop just slightly.

“Famous last words, bud,” is all he replies.

 /

The slide of the back doors from the kitchen is what jerks your head up, followed by the sound of feet pattering on tiles. Suddenly, there’s a rise of anxiousness. Until you drum into your head that, no , this is nothing for you to be anxious about. There are the natural nerves budding that stem from confrontation, and you think this may be it.

Towel around his shoulders and dampened hair swept back, Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first when he appears by the doorway. He walks, gazes ahead like his legs are functioning on autopilot - but when he does notice you, he could have skidded. The way he halts and how his body almost springs backwards into the kitchen as soon as he sees your form huddled on one end of the couch, and how Basil - the frat’s cat, is curled by your lap, peacefully asleep and indulging in the soft stroke of your knuckles on his head. 

His expression mirrors a man who wants so desperately to sink into the floorboards. Or to dash back into the hale storm and fully immerse himself head to toe into the hot tub’s waters and never surface again.

The first few seconds of silence is heavy. As if you’re both still trying to process the presence of the other. It’s an uncomfortable silence you’re not accustomed to when with Jungkook. He’s always leaned more to the quiet side of the spectrum; introverted, introspective. But silences had always been comfortable, even when you two clashed. 

You endeavour for eye contact but he’s suddenly so transfixed on a shadow upon the wood flooring. 

“Hey,” you begin, quietly, like the walls are listening in on you. It’s enough gentle encouragement for him to peer up. He hides his hangover well but the mirth, the glint; the starry eyedness that reflected in his orbs from the night before is absent, and no amount of hot tub therapy could conceal the physical and mental exhaustion. 

“Hey.” He sounds almost breathless, smothers the tremor in his voice with a cough. “You’re … you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” Your tone is apologetic, “Sorry I came on short notice, I messaged you but I don’t think you saw it.”

He winces. “Right - sorry. My phone died. Haven’t checked it since.”

You muster a small smile. “I thought as much.” 

Another breath. Another nervous lilt in his voice. “I’m sorry. Not just the phone thing but everything I said to you last night.” 

You sigh. “Don’t be. It’s just … I’m surprised you remember what you said.”

He takes a breath, bicep flexing when he rubs anxiously at his nape. “I don’t,” he admits. “Jimin told me. It’s in this video he took last night of Taehyung eating cake off the floor, you could hear my voice in the background.” 

“Ah. That explains it.” Your lips pursed. “Did you mean what you said?”

His eyes round and flash to yours. He chews his lip, throws a glance at his feet. “... Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Not just the alcohol talking?”

“No.”

You’re quiet, continuing to stroke Basil who’s still fast asleep beside you.

“Sor—“

“Stop apologising,” you snap. You didn’t mean to, but his shoulders tense, and it makes you wallow in guilt that only he out of everyone has been able to make you feel. You haven’t thought this through and now you’re here you’re saying all the wrong things and asking all the wrong questions. But you remember it’s him, and recollect yourself. “Jungkook - it’s just … it’s just a lot to unpack.” 

You peer up, his nod is slow, but he gets it.

He’s tired, you see it clear as day. See it in the trudge of his walk, the dim in his eyes, and neither of you talk on the way up. Not until you reach his room. 

Despite your protests, he insists you help yourself to his draws for a spare change of dry clothes. It’s with that thought when you realise you still have yet to return several shirts to him with the promise of them all being washed and folded; washed and folded they are, but you never have been great at remembering to give them back. Putting it into perspective - maybe it is a little weird. Weird for two people who fall under the label of best friends. But then again you borrowed clothes from your own roommates all the time to the point you sometimes forgot whose is whose. It isn’t weird. Right? 

While Jungkook goes for a brisk shower, you peel off your soaked clothes, hang them over a spot on his clothes rack. His room is mostly devoid of personal touch, though there are a few photos of his high school football days and some of him and his friends pinned to a board. Otherwise, he’s never had much interest for interior decoration, but he likes his room clean and uncluttered. 

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Are you …?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m done.”

The door cracks open, and Jungkook appears, adorned in another change of clothes. His hair is still damp, fluffed at the patches that have managed to dry and his cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, but he’s less rugged than earlier. Still tired, though. So tired that you don’t question it when he makes a beeline for his unmade bed and collapses face-first into his pillow. You perch on the edge, pulling his duvet over him. 

He wriggles closer to the wall, like he’s making more room for you to sit. You appreciate the gesture and shuffle closer. Outside, the wind still howls.

“You should dry your hair properly,” you murmur, fingers at the damp ends of his nape. 

“Yeah … prob’ly should,” he sighs, muffled where his mouth is buried in his pillow.

You came here to talk about yesterday night, but maybe it’s a conversation for another time. You out of everyone should know how strenuous it is to have a heart-to-heart while being victim to a hangover that gives you the same capacity as someone half-dead. 

You’re staring blankly at the wall, so occupied with the whistle of the winds, so lost in the strands between your fingertips - that when you peer down you’re met with half-open shining eyes, and a lazy blinking gaze directed upwards at your face.

“Yes?” 

“Nothing,” he murmurs, like clockwork, and buries half his face again into the plush of his pillow. It’s enough time for you to catch the shy tilt of his lips before they hid again. It’s almost ironic, how you’re the one next to him while he nurses a hangover when it’s always been the other way round. Here, he’s so vulnerable. Your mind wanders to the possibility - what if it was the other way around? An alternate universe where it was you who serenaded Jungkook with karaoke and confessed. 

In whatever reality, you imagine him to confront you in the way you did now. Perhaps approached it a little differently, would perhaps be a little gentler, but he would never give you the cold shoulder.

For now, you both pretend there’s been no drunken confession. Best friends, like how it’s always been, and you’ll discuss it all when the time comes.

At some point you’re lowering yourself next to him; your head on the same pillow, and your bodies beneath the same blanket. He’s warm. 

And it’s peaceful, as comfortable as it always has been. 

/ 

“Oh my God, where the hell’s your shirt? I haven’t seen you swim once so far,” you scoff, and Hoseok pulls a sour face.

“You’re talking big for being the one in the string bikini.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Yeah, but I actually used the pool?”

“Scooch over, babe.”

Your eyes roll skyward as he plops beside you on the loveseat. It’s another weekend, another frat, another party, another excuse for Hoseok to walk around without a shirt because there’s a pool. Correction: a further excuse for hoards of frat boys to walk around without a shirt, but at this point you’re desensitised to it.

The music booms, a dull vibration you feel through the ground. 

Kappa Omega is infamous for their extravagant parties (at least, as extravagant as college parties can go). Compared to others it’s vastly over-the-top, with most of the guys getting in through connections just like how their college applications got past admissions, but it is what it is. They’re not all bad people, they hold parties for fundraisers but sometimes it can’t be helped not to feel sour when you see what they blow their money on. The Kappa Omega mansion is so big that you’d spent a good portion of the beginning of the night lost.

“Lucky bastards,” Hoseok mutters. He’s said that several times this evening. He’s only here for the booze and the cheese tray. He pops open another beer, chucks the bottle opener onto the low table in front of him, besides the cheese tray he stole from the kitchen. “Which frat party was it again when you blacked out and dived into the pool fully clothed? I can’t remember anymore.” 

“We don’t talk about that, thanks,” you utter, wrapping your long cardigan tighter around your torso. “Have you by chance seen Jungkook around? I thought he’d be here by now.”

He looks up, mid-way from tipping back his beer. “Yeah, I saw him some time ago.”

“What, where?”

“Sat with some food by himself somewhere.” His arm gestures vaguely. “He looked a little sad. You know, in signature Jungkook fashion, you know how he gets sometimes.” 

Your form slumps. “Right,” you murmur. It’s been over two weeks since the last time you saw him. Not that it’s unprecedented. He has football among other commitments that strung him away for days and sometimes weeks at a time, and you had your own as well.

Be that as it may, somehow it feels like the both of you are drawing the whole thing out. Not purposely, but definitely unnecessarily. Neither of you brought it up in your messages to each other either, and it hit you recently that, well - you miss him. You’ve seen him around campus, but never for too long. Nothing more than fleeting sightings of him and his disheveled hair in a half-pony while he rushes to class after football practice; a hand usually holding onto a snack while the other held onto the strap of his half-open duffel bag, but you only had time to exchange a wave and a look that held promise of your next meeting. The fact remains that you miss your best friend, and it would kill you for your friendship to be awkward because of what happened. You had every intention to talk to him tonight in person, and no dallying or delays this time.

Hoseok’s eyes squint your way. “What’s going on between you guys, anyway. You guys a thing or what?”

You sigh, “That’s the thing, I have no idea yet.” 

“Yet.” His lips purse, contemplating you. “He really likes you, you know. So, like, go easy on him.”

Your eyes narrow. “How long have you known, then?”

“As if it was hard,” he scoffs, sitting back. “Guy wears his heart on his sleeve. You have to be thick as a brick not to notice.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you deadpan.

He stabs his fork into the blue cheese. “You know why him and Yerim broke up?” 

“Oh no,” you morose, frowning, “don’t tell me it was because of me. I talked to her after they broke it off and she said it wasn’t.”

“Not entirely. But I think she was bending the truth a little so that you wouldn’t berate Jungkook about it. She’s a cool girl, really nice and a good sport. Knew you two were close and accepted that like a champ. But -” and he pauses for emphasis. A pause which is seconds too long, and then finally he puts his fork down, clutches one of your hands in both of his, and waits for you until you’re hanging on to his every breath while he chews and swallows the remaining in his mouth. He resumes, brightly, “it’s not my story to tell. So you better go and find him.”

You shove him. Harder this time - enough that he topples over, and he cackles obnoxiously. 

“Prick,” you laugh, but rise to your feet. Your gaze spans the backyard, the pool. You spot a hot tub, but it’s filled with other students who are laughing and raucous. 

“Ok, I’m going,” you announce, glancing at Hoseok who’s still very much captivated by the cheese tray before him. It does look really good. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

 /

The problem with knowing so many people, and having the same friends as those people - is that in situations where you try to pull yourself away from yet another drinking game you’re taken by the elbow by someone else. Having all of your mutual friends congregated in one domain that is the Kappa Omega House has made your search for the ever-elusive Jeon Jungkook a grand Pain in the Ass. He’s like gold dust. You’ve texted him but you’ve yet to receive a reply.

“Hey, have you seen Jungkook?”

“I saw him at the front porch a few minutes ago?”

“... Seriously? I’ve literally just been there.”

You even scrambled over a balcony and leaped over a hedge when you tried to get away from Chad’s third invitation to join the game of chicken fight in the pool (a parkour stunt that you like to think would put Peter Parker to shame). You give yourself a quiet moment to catch your breath. 

It’s then you realise you’re in a part of the backyard you swear you haven’t been in before. You can presuppose why. It’s dimly lit, less people, and the boom of the stereo is still loud, but is more of a distant noise in comparison to the other parts of the house you’ve been in. Like what the hell, how big is this place? 

“Sooo, you’ve found him yet or what?”

You hear the voice before you see the face. 

Unbelievable. So you cross paths with shirtless Hoseok for the third time and yet haven’t so much as had a hair’s glimpse of Jungkook. 

“Nope,” you reply, quite miserably, hands stuffing into your cardigan’s large pockets. You feel for your phone. He still hasn’t seen your message. At this point you’re one teetering step away from letting go of the remaining wisps of your dignity and yell his name through a megaphone with a hope he'll come to you instead … you’ve probably done that while drunk before but you’re nowhere near tipsy now, and that’s besides the point. 

Behind you, Hoseok hums, quite serene. When you look back you see he’s lowered his back onto the grass, his eyelids shut.

Eyes scanning this part of the backyard, it’s a different ambience to the atmosphere by the pool. More relaxed. There are students either sat or lying on the grass in small groups, their conversations a low murmur with the occasional twinkling sound of someone’s laughter rising above it. There’s a slabbed stone pathway that leads further up the grass, which then disappears behind a tall row of hedges, and with that you find yourself on your feet again. 

“As much as it pains me to leave, there’s only so much of you I can take in one evening before I go crazy,” you tell Hoseok, who’s unbothered reply is no more than a lazy thumbs up from his spot on the grass.

It gets darker the further away you are from the house, but you’re led by the quiet warm-white glow of the lawn lights that highlight the path. It calms your mind to a lull that puts you at peace, something you desperately sought after your hopeless goose-chase just minutes prior. 

The waters of a hot tub glow blue up ahead. You skid to a stop when you come closer and see someone’s in there; shoulders immersed and their head just above the water’s surface. What’s the phrase? When you stop looking for something, it finds you? That’s probably not how it goes, but it doesn’t matter. After futile searching, hedge jumping and greasy frat boy dodging, you finally found him. Of course he’d be in a place like this.

His eyes are dazed, mesmerised by the ripples in the water that his smallest movements create. He hasn’t yet noticed you coming.

You pad closer. “... Jungkook?” and like a switch, his spine straightens, goes rigid as a ramrod at your voice. He’s blinking, head shaking side to side as if to snap himself out of the trance that clouds his head. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you exasperate.

He blinks. “You … you have?”

You scoff, amused at the way his brows knit. “Yeah,” you sigh, stopping so your forearms can lean on the sides of the tub. “May I join you?”

After a beat of hesitation - “Of course you can.” 

You shrug your long oversized cardigan off of your shoulders, and double check that your phone is still in the pocket before you chuck it in a heap on the bench. You secure your footing on the step, eyes intercepting his own. His Adam's apple bobs when the rest of your body comes into view, and you shiver at the breeze but warmth engulfs you the second you’re in contact with the bubbling water.  

“Feels good?” he asks, and you sigh contentedly, leaning back.

“Yeah.” If you really wanted to, you could fall asleep right here, right now. “What is it with you and hot tubs? Always knew you had a thing for them but never asked specifically why. Or does it just feel good?”

“Mainly that. The guys on my team use the excuse that it breaks up the lactic acid in your muscles after training, but it just feels good when you’re sore.” 

“Huh.” When you crack an eye open, he’s already looking at you. 

His lips purse. “Did you want to talk?” and when you nod he sighs, wearily. “I wanted to, honestly. But I … I guess I never felt ready to hear what you’re going to say.”

You frown. “What do you think I’m going to say?” 

“I don’t know. That you don’t feel that way about me, which I’m fine with. I was never meant to let it slip, but I ended up saying all the things I didn’t want you to hear yet. And while I was drunk, of all things.” 

You consider this, broach your tone carefully. “Were you ever going to tell me?” 

His eyes avert to the water. “... Eventually. It would have been after graduation. No step three beyond telling you, no secret ploy to get you to fall in love with me, I only would have wanted you to know how I felt. I’d leave you alone and we’d finally move on with our lives. And what better timing than after graduation? But that’s not how it turned out, did it?” He laughs, but it’s with rueful discomfort.

“How long?”

He exhales. “A while.”

“I see.” You think hard for a second. “Even when you were with Yerim?”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, but you can tell he’s honest when he replies with, “Yeah. But I never pretended she was you.”

“Of course you didn’t, you’re not that type of person.”

At last, he does smile at that, and seeing the tilt of his mouth settles a warmth in your heart.

Part of you wants to ask what happened between him and Yerim, but you think perhaps it’s for the best you don’t know, at least now. It’s not your business nor his obligation to tell you.

Before you could dwell too much on your oncoming words, you continue barging forward or you’ll chicken out from what you’re going to say next.

“Jungkook,” you begin. “What if I said yes?”

A pause. 

“What do you mean?”

“If you asked me out, and I said yes.”

He’s so bewildered he looks as if he’s just been slapped. Suddenly, something more serious shadows his features. “You know I’d never want you to date me just because. I’m fine with rejection, seriously, I’ll get over it. But I don’t want you to settle for less than what you want. You deserve someone you want, and if I’m not that person, that’s fine. You deserve -”

“Last time I checked, you don’t get a say on what it is that I do and don’t deserve. Who I deserve is for me to decide, so stop cutting yourself so short because you’re more decent than most of the guys I know.”

He shifts, looks away. “So what are you saying?”

“Should we try it?”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” you say, simply.

“But then it’ll be awkward.”

“You telling me that you became obsessed with me after I flirted with you for one evening while I was drunk already made it awkward. Not like we have anything else to lose.”

A breath of air expels from his nose in a chuckle. “Oh, ouch.”

“Jungkook,” you sigh. “It’s so easy to be around you. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but how are we supposed to know how it’s going to turn out if we don’t even give it a chance? It’s going to be awkward either way but we’ll figure it out. Like with all the other crap we’ve gone through. I’ve been with enough guys to know that guys like you come far and few between, I trust you enough to want to do this. You’re one of those few guys I know I can trust, alongside Hoseok. Even though he can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Jungkook doesn’t rebuke you, but he laughs. It’s a sound you’ve never been more relieved to hear. 

“So what do you think? I don’t want to force you into it. If you don’t want this, I’m fine with it. If you do, I’m fine with that too. Everything on my end is fine, so what about yours?”

If him confessing happened a year, or maybe two years earlier, you don’t think you would have confronted it in the way that you’d done now. You understand why Jungkook wanted to bide his time. You’re stubborn, fiery, and don’t think things through in the way that Jungkook does. If this happened two years ago, you can imagine you’d have yelled at him on impulse, asking him why, why he let it happen.

But there’s a very particular fondness you’ve honed for your best friend that has unfurled in the years of your friendship, to the point you couldn’t possibly imagine yourself putting blame on him for his feelings. It seems being friends with him has really mellowed you. While Hoseok is the friend you’re most similar to, your other pea-in-the-pod, Jungkook is the friend who balances you out. Someone so different to you, yet someone who still knows what makes you tick.

He’s a friend who doesn’t judge, but yet is always first to call you out whenever you’re out of line. A friend who waits until you’re inside of your dorm building before driving away. The type of guy who pays for dinner and doesn’t expect you to pay him back. A friend who makes sure you’re back home safely when you’re drunk, puts a glass of water next to you and watches over you to make sure you don’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.

Finally, after careful consideration, he nods. He nods, finally.

“So we’re doing this then.” You crack a smile, and he finds it difficult to suppress his own.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

With an unchanging temper, as still and as serene as waters below the turbulent surface - Jungkook is your anchor, he always has been. The anchor that tethers your feet to the earth when the elements threaten to topple you over.

In the blue glow, you shuffle closer forward on your knees. 

“Can I kiss you?” you murmur, and he chokes on his saliva, spluttering. You smile sheepishly. “Sorry it’s weird, you don’t have to let me if that’s going too fast. I just … I want to see what it feels like.” 

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He mulls it over, but it doesn’t take much thinking. He stares at you, hard. But then you disrupt the stillness with a disarming smile, and unable to resist, he beckons you over. “Come here.”

It’s odd to straddle his lap at first. In the same way it is when you’re getting on a bike for the first time or any kind of first. He doesn’t make any first move, it’s you who he waits to initiate. 

The path of your fingers trail slowly upwards, until they’re splayed against his chest. They remain there, and you detect the quick pattering of his heart, the rise of his chest. His breaths are deep but they’re controlled, and he feels sturdy beneath you. 

Jungkook is stupid handsome, with the body to match. But that’s not what swells your heart. It’s not what pushes you to move further forward in his lap and finally press your mouth to the seam of his lips before you could think twice.

It’s how tenderly he gazes up at you. With the same sincerity and adoration he’d shown the night he’d confessed drunk. His eyes, an opening to his soul which is a whole other wonder. 

When was the last time someone looked at you like that? 

The kiss is soft. No sparks, no butterflies on your end - not yet, but somehow it still feels right. Like missing pieces that have finally fallen into place. Warmth and love spills from him. It saturates your body to the very tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes, like a slow, spreading glow. It feels good.

When shy pecks don’t become enough anymore, you get needy, touching and grasping for more of him. His palms press against your lower back, massaging the skin there, and eventually your mouth parts pliant for him. 

“Oh,” he croaks, his head leaning forward so his cheek brushes yours. You can’t see his eyes, and you attempt to move but he curtains the planes of his face with his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, having to strain to catch his whisper. 

“I’m embarrassed.”

You chuckle, warmth spreading from the spot on your ear that his lips hover over. “How come?”

“Like, there are probably bricks softer than my dick right now. And … I really, really don’t wanna jizz my pants in a Kappa Omega hot tub. I would have hit my lowest point in life if I do.” 

“Oh my God.” You’re almost crying, shoulders shaking with how hard you’re laughing. 

“Please, I’m so serious right now. I’d never be able to redeem myself.”

“Would jizzing in an obscenely expensive hot tub be so bad?”

“Yes,” he emphasises. “Really bad, actually. Have you heard of that guy who ejaculated in a swimming pool and accidentally got twenty girls pregnant?”

“That sounds like fake news. There’s no way. Sperm aren’t homing torpedoes, Jungkook. They’d be unviable as soon as they’d be in the water. But if you want me to move back, I’ll move back.”

His face is taut, like he’s trying so hard. “Yes, please.” His eyes go stern, but there’s a nervous jitter you feel with the skin beneath your fingertips. “And just because I think it’s worth mentioning, I don’t think we should have sex straight away.” 

“Oh. Right. I see,” you deadpan.

It’s his turn to cackle at the dead-set, disappointed look on your face. “What’s with that?”

Your eyes roll. “You know I’m kidding.” You brush the hair out from his eyes. “Jungkook, will you wait for me?”

His expression softens, and he hoists you until you’re pressed impossibly closer.

“Of course I will. However long it needs to be.”

a/n: when jk says you flirted with me the whole night and i became obsessed w you forever, yea that was from b99

The fitting room where you and Hyorin both squeezed into also did little to sedate the quarrel amidst the two of you. Hyorin was maddingly impatient and too easy to rile up sometimes. She’d succeeded in persuading you to go shopping with her during the weekend, there was an end of season sale and she claimed that apparently you didn’t spend enough time with her anymore (“I feel like time is just - just! Robbing you away from me!”) and of course she ignored you when you’d reminded her several times that she was one of your flat mates and saw you every day - but alas, it was impossible to tell her no.

“It’s not love, Hyorin, it’s a ... non-serious crush -” Crikey, you were going to throw up, that sounded so juvenile - “There’s a difference! And can you please keep your voice down?!”

Scandalised, Hyorin snapped back in a harsh whisper, “You’re so infuriating! Liking someone for just over two years and only calling it a crush, you have to be crazy whack in the head and—oh, hello, your bra today is really cute—you’ve liked him way before she did, and she’s the one who got the man! That has to be a breach in girl code somewhere, I swear!”

“But I’m the one who’s in love with her boyfriend, so isn’t it me who’s breaching girl code?”

Your stomach sunk.

Oh, shit and shingle, fuck and hoo-ha. The look on Hyorin’s face was one of menacing victory.

“AH-HA! I knew you were in love with him!” she cackled, even as you tried to pry each of her stubborn fingers off from their vice on your arm.

“I slipped up! You know what I meant!”

“A bit of a Freudian slip that was, if you ask me.”

“Whatever,” you scoffed, “most of Freud’s theories are outdated - a zeitgeist of its time! So your point can’t be any more invalid and irrelevant and also Yerim never knew I liked him, and that’s not her fault.”

“Ugh, you get so blabby when you’re being defensive and I can’t understand half of the words coming out of your mouth.”

You choked in outrage, “What do you mean I’m blabby when I’m defensive? I’m not being defensive or blabby! I’m being rational!”

“See? Blubber, blubber. Blab, blab, blab,” she droned, ignoring your hand motions that signalled how badly you wanted to chokeslam her so she would stop talking, “This is what happens when you don’t tell each other these things, it becomes bloody pandemonium! And you’re going to be the one crying while Jeongguk is fucking her six ways to sunday, and don’t look at me like that, I hear you and Yerim on the phone. I don’t know how you can just stand by and let yourself listen to her go on and on - in scrupulous detail - about the way she’s screwing the guy you’ve fancied since you’ve come here.”

You were at a loss for words, suddenly more ticked off than you were just then, “Hyorin -”

“I’m not trying to purposely pit you against her, but doesn’t it make you a little bitter? Even a little? If you told her a lot earlier on, way before they started dating, it could be less complicated and you could be in Yerim’s place, right now. Don’t you ever think about that?”

How were you meant to answer? Of course you’d thought about that before. But your moral compass directed your heart and your actions when the rational side of your brain could not. Being so close to Yerim meant that you were the first she’d go to when she needed someone to listen, because Jeongguk was her first serious boyfriend, and you walked beside her while she wobbled and attempted to navigate herself and this new relationship. But that meant hearing in copious detail what having sex with him was like, what being eaten out felt like, small habits he had like softly kissing her behind the ears when he had her in his lap - which, if you were brutally honest, you would give anything to not hear about.

“Sorry.” Hyorin looked away, and her voice grew suddenly gentle in tone. “I’m sticking my nose where it shouldn’t be again. You’ve always been the better person than I was. Better to be better than bitter, isn’t that what they say? I just … I just think it’s a little unfair.”

You’d continued to wriggle into the dress in silence, with Hyorin doing the same. That was, until she took a glance back at you in the mirror and gasped, almost dropping the hangers bunched in her hand into a clatter on the floor. “Oh my God, please, if anything - buy that dress, oh my God, turn around in it,” and there was a crack of emotion in her voice.

“I can’t buy this,” you whined, tugging the dress down a bit in discomfort.

“And why the fuck not?”

“I wouldn’t ever wear it, my confidence is not at that level yet.”

“You looe insane! If you’re not buying it, I’ll buy it for you for the day when your confidence reaches that level.” She made a hurried attempt to take a look at the price tag at the nape of the dress, but you swatted her hand away.