“Earth to _____?” 

The vibrating chatter of Sunrise patrons hummed against your skin, lulling you into some state of hypnosis as you pressed a cup of coffee down into the machine. Your eyes were stuck open, staring blankly across at the posters on the brick-styled wall. Fatigue weighed heavily down on your shoulders, a stark reminder that for the past weeks you’d spent your time during the night doing the opposite of sleeping- a bad choice on your part, and you knew it. With heavy eyelids, you forced a long, drawn out blink, tethering yourself back down to the present. 

“Sorry,” you pushed out a laugh and foamed the top of the drink, sheepishly gazing sideways at a coworker. Taehyung stared at you curiously and took the drink from your shaking fingers, which he too eyed suspiciously, then called out the customer’s name. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Taehyung muttered as he walked around your back, letting his sights travel over your rolled jeans and loose-fitting t-shirt. There were no signs of you being hurt anywhere, and he pursed his lips in part worry, part confusion. 

You moved to look at the next given order, forcing yourself to look him in the eye. “Yeah, Tae,” you reassured him, “I think I did too much coke last night, though.” 

Taehyung snorted. You grinned sneakily at him, and began to press another cup of coffee down once again. 

“You can tell me,” Taehyung announced sideways at you as he handed a customer back her cash. The woman smiled softly at him and dropped change into one of the two jars: one reading ‘Mario’ and the other reading ‘Luigi’. The cups changed tip names once a day, depending on whoever was working. Sometimes it was Hamlet vs. Caesar, Jackson vs. Jefferson, etcetera. 

You slid the next mug onto the counter and called out the name. The first syllable rolled off your tongue before it hit you-  who the name belonged to. Raising your eyebrows, you felt your stomach clench with nervousness, eyes wide and surprised as you looked across the room. 

Seated by the decorative board with lists of ads probably decades old was none other than Jungkook. He was still wearing that God forsaken boyfriend-esque outfit, but now there was a beanie pulling his hair back from his face, allowing those curious brown eyes to roam over the posters. The midday sunlight was streaming in through the glass wall, illuminating his tan skin with an angelic haze that made you want to choke the life out of him. And although your fingers twitched to punch his stupidly handsome face, his profile struck a chord within you, reminding you of a time much simpler than this one.

The living room was cold and smelt of pizza and wings, both of which had occupied ample space on the coffee table by your chest. Cross-legged and dressed in only a lengthy, long t-shirt, you chewed at your third slice of pizza ravenously. Beside you, Jungkook watched you out of the corner of his eye, smiling softly to himself when he spotted the smear of barbeque sauce on your cheek. 

“That’sh sho dumb,” you huffed, angrily staring at the television. Jungkook felt his smile turn into an amused grin. You swallowed, and for a moment he thought you would (for once) speak with your mouth empty- at least, until, you tore another piece of chicken off and continued. “Why can’t Leshlie mm Ben jusht dade?” 

Jungkook glanced at the show, where two characters sadly stared at each other across a table, then back to you. He couldn’t help but admire you like this- no makeup, hair a mess and tied back so you could eat easily, his shirt and underwear on. You were a vision with or without looking like this, but he always had a thing for unknown beauty. And while you were confident, you couldn’t have possibly known the things your smile did to him. 

You felt his stare burning a hole into your cheek. Glancing at him oddly out of the corner of your eye, you turned to look at him, finally swallowing. “What?” You demanded, confused. “Something on my face?” 

Jungkook tilted his head to the side, smiling. You furrowed your eyebrows and reached up to wipe your face clean, but his hand shot outwards and caught your wrist before you could. “Yeah,” he lowered your hand, though his other one came around to wipe the sauce off. Your cheek pushed against his fingers, soft and warm and brightening at his touch. 

He stared at your wide, surprised eyes. Although the two of you had been messing around for a month now (he was counting), you still were always delightfully shocked at his actions. Your blush and that bashful look you got was his favorite of your expressions- well, that and your happy one… and your mad one… actually, all of them were his favorite. 

You blinked, gulping. Jungkook leaned forwards on natural instinct, unable to stop himself from feathering his lips against your cheek. Your chest expanded with something indescribable at the gentle gesture, a stark difference from how he’d been only just an hour ago. You remembered the way he looked at you from above you, how he held onto your waist tightly and roughly and panted your name into your shoulder. 

Something warm and soft found your lips. You melted into Jungkook’s touch as you always had, hands moving up to cup his jaw, feeling the structure beneath your palm. Your mouth felt as if it had lit up, eyes closed and everything dark, but your lips were neon red, pulsing in the absence of light like a beacon. Wherever he touched you was vibrant yellow, glowing against the color of your skin, a mental map outlining the dance of his fingers. 

And oh, his fingers….

You blinked, jerking yourself back to the then and now. 

Jungkook jumped to his feet. For a moment, you felt excited- here he was, the boy you tended to obsess over, walking towards you, about to speak to you- but that feeling shattered at the now visible sight of a blonde sitting across from him. Disappointment felt onto your chest, weighing you down against the tile floors. She looked too perfect seated there, with her hair immaculately straight and her eyes a dazzling hue of emerald. If you were Jungkook, you’d probably be with her instead of you, too. 

“Hey,” Jungkook’s pink lips curved into that annoying smile of his. His eyes scrunched up as he reached for the drink, fingers curling around the handle of the mug. He glanced down at the foam design you made out of boredom- a generic, tiny little emblem of a flower. His heart grew warm at the sight of it. 

You reminded yourself to breathe and forced your gaze away, “Hi.” 

He wasn’t an idiot, and you knew that he knew you were avoiding him. The disappointed look on his face said it all, but you had to remind yourself that to him, you were a quick lay and the person he could text when he didn’t do the study packets. “Um, _____, do you think we could maybe-” 

“I can’t tonight,” you looked back over at him with cold eyes. You couldn’t do that- not anymore, not knowing that he’d been with other girls- in other girls. And you knew it was ridiculous of you to feel this way, to even act this way. Jungkook wasn’t yours, he never said he was yours, and vice versa. Yet, your heart had already given itself away, knocking on the closed door of Jungkook’s chest. 

Jungkook blinked. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to say-” 

You laughed lightly, bitterly, to yourself, knowing very well that people were watching and Taehyung was nearby to sweep you away whenever he pleased. “You don’t have to talk to me,” you shot back bitingly, “you don’t owe me that.” 

Jungkook wasn’t sure where this was all coming from, but he knew that it hurt. He knew that he didn’t like when you smiled at him like that- not the smile he kept as his hidden wallpaper, but a smile that was all business, that wasn’t his smile, not the one reserved just for him. It wasn’t the sleepy morning smile you gave him. 

Frowning, he glanced backwards to see that Minjoo was watching him now, her head cocked to the side and confusion written all over her face. 

“Hey,” Taehyung’s suddenly comforting voice interjected. Your head swiveled  around in his direction, eyes silently thanking him for pulling you from that delightful conversation. “Can you cover the register?” 

Without so much as a goodbye, or even a glance, you wiped your gloved hands down on your apron and nodded. As you passed by him, you muttered Taehyung a soft “God bless your grandparents” and hurried to punch in your sign-in code. 

Jungkook’s mouth felt dry. The mug in his hand, that tiny little flower, no longer felt warm, but cold. He swallowed, trudging back to his seat, and plopped down in defeat, staring longingly at the dissipating flower as if your face might pop up, all smiles and kind, loving words. He wasn’t sure what he meant to you, now. Maybe he was just a fuck to you. Maybe all that you cared about was his dick and now that you’d gotten what you wanted on more than one occasion, you were done. 

But your smile used to be so warm. 

Now it was so cold. 

“Long day?” Somi wandered into your bedroom. You were unashamed, laid out in nothing but a robe scrolling through Twitter posts. You flashed her a grin and flipped over. 

“Do we have any bleach in the dorm?” You wondered, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m thinking of adding it to the menu.” 

“Bleach frap?” Somi toed over to your bed and fell onto her chest, sighing long and dramatically against the comforter. “I’ll gladly take buy it.” 

There was silence as you counted scuff marks of the popcorn ceiling. You could feel the question on Somi’s tongue, though she never asked it. The tension in the room was tight and high strung, so much so that you were tempted to get up and perform an impromptu rendition of PPAP.

“What?” You finally rolled over, glaring at your roommate suspiciously. 

Somi blinked. “What?” 

“Ask your question,” you huffed, shaking your head in disbelief. Somi glanced away and pursed her lips comically, muttering to herself before she finally sat up. 

“I don’t have a question,” Somi announced with a shoulder shrug. 

You stared at her, “Seriously?” 

Somi casually looked out the window and nodded, “Seriously.” 

“Well,” you scooted closer to her, chewing on the inside of your cheek with squinted eyes, “then what do you wanna tell me?” 

She shook her head, “Nothing, you weirdo.” 

“Somi,” you tilted your chin and folded your arms, as if you were scolding a child. 

“____,” Somi returned. 

“Somi,” you looked at her through the tops of her eyes, hoping that you looked somewhat threatening. 

“I-” 

“Just tell me you fuckhead,” you pushed yourself up to your feet, glaring at her. Somi rolled onto her back and sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her face dramatically. You watched as she mumbled to herself, debating over something of which you had no idea about, before she finally came to what seemed like a decision. She dug through her back pocket for her phone and curled her lips into a thin, unamused line. 

Without warning she was tossing her phone in your direction. You quickly caught it, fumbled for a moment, then turned it over to take a look at whatever had been bothering her. 

The picture was of Jungkook- of course, it had to be. You couldn’t have one day where he wasn’t intruding in some way or another, though if you were being honest with yourself you weren’t too torn in seeing his face on your timeline. 

The twitter handle was @minjoowinchmajor, a name you weren’t familiar with, but you were with the picture. It was taken at your job, in your cafe, in the same chair you remembered seeing him sitting at. You assumed the person who had taken the picture was the girl he was with, the immaculate blonde one, judging by the angle. Jungkook wasn’t even looking at the camera, he was staring down into his coffee cup, and you had to wonder if he knew she posted this of him.

The caption read “everyone look at how handsome my man is”, paired perfectly with a cute little pink heart emoji. The fond term coiled your stomach into knots, suddenly turning it into a pro-gymnast on crack. On top of your fatigue now was anxiety, bubbling in the very core of your chest, making it feel tight, like you couldn’t breathe. 

That was his girlfriend? Jungkook had a girlfriend? Since when? Had he been cheating on her with you? You, of all people he could cheat on her with? 

“I know,” Somi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “They’re such little snakes-”  

“It’s fine.” You locked her phone and handed it to her calmly. 

Somi closed her eyes tight and shook her head, “____, it’s not. He’s an asshole, okay? He doesn’t deserve you.” 

While your insides sparked with an intensity you hadn’t felt in years, with such an anger that your head spun, you moved slowly towards your phone. Somi watched in confusion as you typed out a message, fingers moving carefully and precisely. “What’re you doing?” 

Your thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button. It was such a petty, simple move to send the message. You knew everything you could’ve wanted, could’ve had, would be gone with a simple press of a button. You knew you’d ruin it, whatever you had with Jungkook. But an image formed in your mind- an image that spoke volumes, an image of him and a beautiful blonde girl curled up in bed together, watching movies and listening to music and doing everything you’d ever wanted with him. 

Jungkook made his choice. 

And now you were making yours. 

A mile away, locked inside the boy’s dorm with a brown-haired boy seated on the couch in the living room, Jungkook returned with a bucket of popcorn and a pretend smile. He plopped down besides his roommate, Park Jimin, and was about to press play on the Vine compilation meant to lift his spirits when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Jungkook’s heart skipped when he saw the name- one of the only names in his phone, since he never took the time of day to put other people’s names in. 

Jimin watched as Jungkook’s raised, spritely eyebrows fell, how his eager smile faltered and twitched into a straight, blank line. He couldn’t tell what expression Jungkook was wearing, but the boy’s eyes were… were they shining? In the dark, they looked like they were sparkling, and after a beat of confusion he realized they were watering. 

Jimin looked up, concerned. “Dude,” he began, rising to his feet as Jungkook pushed the bowl off his lap and onto the floor. The popcorn spilled like a splatter across the rug. His first instinct was to scold his younger friend, but the curse died on his tongue when the twenty year-old rushed out the front door. 

Eyebrows furrowed, Jimin reached down to grab the phone out of the mess he’d made. 

sunshine: whatever this is, whatever we’re doing, i think it’s better if we end it. im sorry. please dont contact me again. thanks for all the “fun” times. i hope everything goes well for you.