#btswritersmp

His jaw dropped, eyes wide open like he just saw a ghost, and probably he’d rather want to see a ghost than that – his lies all over the place.

“Y/N…” He managed to murmur, and you wanted to know how in the world did he found the courage to speak your name again, with the same mouth he said all the lies, and with the same mouth he gave pleasure to god knows who, for god knows how many times.

“Stop,” you begged him, feeling how tears were already starting to fall down your face. “Just…” you whispered, you felt the pain in your throat, making you want to cry even harder. “This time, the truth and only the truth.”

“I’ll tell everything,” he stormed out immediately. “I’ll tell everything. Just…don’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to hear everything.” You disagreed, because you truly didn’t want to know anything about what happened behind the closed doors, how many of them touched him after you, did he fall in love with them, did he fall out of love with you, did he like their company, did he wish that it was you, did he ever think about you, and how devastated you’d feel after you learned?

Did he…

Did he…

It was always about him.

You realized it –realized how you always put him first, and the second, even the third and the fourth place…and for yourself?

Did you ever think about yourself? Just for once–have you ever thought about what he has done to you? Who you turned into? Who he made you turned into, and why did you allow him?

How do you feel, Y/N? He cheated! Are you stupid? Break up with him already! Didn’t you say you’d never be with a cheater once? Didn’t you say you can forgive anything – anything but cheating? The only thing you could never tolerate or erase from your mind.

And he did that.

What are you waiting for goddamnit? For him to fuck you up again like you don’t matter, not once, not even slightly?

“…Y/N?”

“Take me home, Jungkook.” You ordered. You tried to sound strong, but let’s be honest – you were falling apart. “Just take me home.”

“As you wish, my love.”

After turning home from the hospital all you could feel was the loneliness inside the house. The apartment you were so sure of good things happening inside now felt empty like you weren’t living there for years, and mostly – like the people staying there were dead already.

But the home wasn’t the only thing that looked dead to you.

He looked dead.

You looked dead.

Everything and everyone around you looked dead. The furniture and even the photo frames which were once evidence of your happy life – looked dead.

“It’s better if you lay down for a while” he called. “You just climbed the stairs.” His voice was sore from crying.

You glanced at him for a second, peeking behind your back. He looked like a lost puppy, while you had to fight an urge not to hug him right there for hours, even weeks maybe.

If this could make everything alright, you would.

But it wasn’t that easy.

“Okay,” you quickly obeyed. He was right, climbing up the stairs while refusing his help was hard for your weak body. And for a while, you thought you were going to black out right there, but luckily , you didn’t.  

“Do you want anything – water, coffee, tea? Or maybe you’re hungry, I can make something, or we can order too if you –“

“Stop,” you cut him. “I don’t want anything.”

“O-okay.” He stuttered, not knowing what to do or say, and you didn’t want him to try that hard. Because him trying hard would make you melt, make you feel like you matter, and for the first time, you didn’t want it.

You only wanted an explanation.

And he had to give something to you.

“Why?” You asked again, voice much calmer than it was at the hospital. “Just tell me that.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, brushing them off like it could help him talk. “You might want to sit down for that,” he claimed.

And you were about to find out how right he was for suggesting that to you.

“I…I wish I knew the proper explanation for you, but I don’t,” he started speaking in a soft voice, eyes drifting away from yours as he was afraid of facing you – and maybe he should. “I just know that…that I’m sorry, okay? I know I fucked up, I know I lied, I know I wasn’t there when you needed me, I know I’m just a fucked up kid, nothing more than the kid you’ve faced that day, at the graduation. I didn’t change…not even a tiny bit. I really thought I did. I believed myself for that.”

You looked at his brown eyes, the eyes you’ve adored more than your own life, now starting to get wet. Shame on you for only wanting to wipe the tears away from them. Shame on you for wanting to die rather than to witness him crying. Shame on you for knowing you’ll forgive him if he doesn’t stop crying. Shame on you. Shame the fuck on you.

“I really wanted to be with you, Y/N. I wanted to be healthy for you, mentally. I wanted to be a caring boyfriend, I wanted to love you carelessly, and I wanted to love you without a fear - without any fear remaining inside my mind from my other self. Because I’m fucking scared of myself Y/N.”

Bullshit, you wanted to say.

You’re fucking bullshit, Jeon Jungkook.

But the only thing you did was feeling your eyes getting wet.

It was something he did to you. Winding you tighter than the wires.

“I’m fucking scared that I’ll break your heart into million pieces, I’m scared that I’ll let you down, and scared that I’ll let you cry, I’ll let you fall. Because god knows I did want to be the person who’s going to hold you when you feel like falling, Y/N. I did.”

“So hold me then,” you begged, voice pitcher now, a couple of tears falling down your cheeks as you started to continue begging him. “Why didn’t you?”

“I…I’m not good for you, I’ve never been, I’ll never be. Maybe it’s better if I stay away.”

“I didn’t want you to be good for me, I didn’t want you to be perfect,” you sounded more like screaming now. You stopped for a second, catching your breath. “I only wanted you to be with me, no matter what.”

“I know…I know you and how you always settled down for nothing. I’m not good enough for your love, and I selfishly started to be with you knowing I can never be the one you want.”

“You were the one I wanted!” You barked at him, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall. “You were the one!”

“Stop,” he extends his hand as you tried to get up from the couch. “Don’t!”

You stopped, leaning against the couch again since the minute you tried to get up you saw stars in the room, and this time not because of the boy who’s sitting right in front of you – but because you just got home from the hospital.

“It didn’t matter who you were in reality, not for me at least. I’d accept you no matter what, Jeon Jungkook. I was ready to accept you.”

He tilted his head, eyes locked on yours. “Past tense.”

“What?” You shouted at him from the spot you’ve been sitting.

“You said it didn’t matter – as in past tense,” he explained. “Does that mean it matters now?”

“Jungkook…” you whispered into the cold apartment. “You…you lied about where you are…who you’ve been with.”

Shame on you, still not saying the actual words for that.

Shame on you, still not being able to say that he cheated.

Shame on you, still believing if you don’t say it out loud, maybe it never happens.

Shame on you.

Because that already happened.

“I’m here to tell,” he admitted. “I’m here to tell if you’re willing to forgive me.”

Your eyes wide open, your jaw dropped the second these words left his mouth. “How can you expect something like that?”

“Because you love me, right? You’ll love me no matter what? Isn’t that true, Y/N?”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and how smartass he was.

“It doesn’t mean I’ll stay like that,” you spat in anger. “I can’t stay like that if you keep fucking me up every time you feel like it.”

“I know,” he admitted. “I was wrong. I fucked up – I’m a fucked up kid, I still am.”

“That I can approve,” you admitted, voice colder now. “That I’ve witnessed before.”

“I was here and there, a couple of cities, maybe three…or four? I can’t really say, I wasn’t sober enough to count,” he started without saying anything. “What did I do there? I traveled around, I even remember visiting a museum, but I think I was high that time.” He stopped and glanced at you, curious about the response you’ll give him when he mentioned drugs – but you didn’t say anything. Not that you’re okay with it, of course, you weren’t, but you felt numb to the bones that you couldn’t respond. “What else did I do there…I drank…so much,” he continued, his brown eyes felt toxic, poisoning you, “I drank to the point that now it’s all blurry in my head, but I do remember some…girls.”

You felt like dying. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“They didn’t matter.”

You wanted to punch him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay…okay,” he murmured. “I don’t remember any of it though.”

“Jungkook, if you still care don’t let me know,” you begged him, crying your heart out, wanting to be dead right there, wanting to be gone forever.  “Please.”

He looked at you with his doe eyes – a caring expression in his eyes, and for a moment you really saw the guilt in them, the one who has been eating him alive, made him cry more than once, the guilt which has been a part of him, the guilt which will always be a part of him.

“I remember something else,” he whispered into the cold air. “I remember walking in a park, I do remember that vividly because maybe it was the only time I was sober for the whole week.”

You gulped, afraid of what was coming.

Afraid of what was coming, and its power to make you shattered.

“I remember feeling lonely…like I never felt before. Never in my life, I do not remember feeling this empty, lonely, and alone. And I felt dead, I felt like my soul has left the world and the remaining parts trapped in this cold place, and let me tell you something – being that high caused me to actually believe it. So I thought, maybe I should sleep a little, you know, maybe the feeling will be gone once I wake up…”

“…And I slept for a while, at the park, and the only thing I felt was the cold night. And once I woke up, nothing changed, nothing except that the photo I found in my pocket when I was seeking for a little warmness…”

“…I guess there is no need for me to tell you that it was yours?”

You locked your eyes with him, needing desperately to know if he’s been serious or not, and god…he was. He was fucking serious.

“I’m not implying that seeing you solved everything. It’s the real word, I didn’t feel sparks all over my body, or I didn’t feel the warmness coming from my heart – in fact, I didn’t feel anything. I was so empty and it didn’t change,” he stopped, and with a sudden move he grabbed your hand in his, embracing it, locking them together, not allowing you to take it back – and you didn’t want to do that. “But, there was this little feeling – like you knew all the answers. Does that make sense? I don’t think it does, but it did with me. I didn’t know anything, I only knew that you might know everything…”

“…I’m not saying that you can fix this, but it was more like…like I wanted to be home? And I suddenly realized that you’re the home. Is this pathetic? I think it is, but I can’t help it. So I came home…I came to you…”

“…Is it too late for that now?”

That day you realized – that the Jeon Jungkook was never a man, indeed, he was a boy, who’s been trapped with a tragic mind that made him feel the way he should never feel.

That day you realized – people can’t save each other, not in the mental way, at least. And the only thing you can make him feel is a little less trapped because there is no remedy coming with any kind of love.

That day you realized – there is no crime that you can’t forgive in time. Even the darkest ones can be forgiven because love making you blind wasn’t just a myth, it was, indeed, true. And maybe the minute you saw him waiting for you to wake up, right beside your bed, was the minute you forgave him.

Because that day you also realized that you’ve fallen dangerously in love with the not-so-perfect boy who’s been sitting in front of you.

Because that day you also realized that you fell in love with both sides of him. The bad and the good, the bright and the dark, the sun and the moon, the black and the white.

Because loving Jeon Jungkook wasn’t grey at all, and you were fine with that.

You were fine.

Until you weren’t.

\

It was the month after that night when he came back to you, it was the month after you finally started to feel like you’re home.

It was the month after that incident – and you started to believe that he was doing okay, that he was feeling okay, that he was feeling a little bit less trapped now.

But there was something different about him, you weren’t sure yet how and what, but you could sense that something was up with him.

Jungkook was acting, somehow, quieter since the day you two came from the hospital and had the talk; he was somewhat keeping his distance from you, making you crazy, making you double thinking the decisions you’ve made that day. He also cut the times he went out, whether it’s night or day, and he wasn’t talking with his friends either, you knew, since his best friend – Jimin – was constantly asking you what’s going on with him. And you couldn’t give him a decent answer, because you also, didn’t know what was happening and why.

Then you noticed the empty bottles, and how frequently they started to occupy your home with their existence. Yes, Jeon Jungkook loved drinking, but he wasn’t like that before – because you were sure that he wasn’t even sober lately.

You glanced at the boy who’s been laying on your lap for almost an hour, you were playing with his hair – which he loved so much – listening to him  murmuring a song he was lately into. It was the perfect Sunday night, an empty red wine bottle still standing on the floor, an empty bowl once full of chips standing on the table with an empty packet of cigarettes.

“Do you want to go to bed?” You asked with a low voice, afraid of ruining the moment.

His eyes were closed, and maybe an outsider would think of him that he looked peaceful – but somehow you knew it wasn’t true. It was more like a silence before the storm, and oh god, you were so afraid of his storms.

“No,” he simply answered, still not opening his eyes. “Do you?”

“No,” you said without hesitating. Your fingers in his messy yet soft brown hair, brushing them off, playing with them, “But I feel sleepy.”

“Me too,” he admitted. He slowly opened his eyes, and you immediately locked them with yours, wanting to cherish every second of that day in your brain like it was the last time – like it was the last time you were going to see that eyes. “I feel so empty lately.”

“I know,” you softly whispered, still playing with his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” He lifted his hand to his hair, capturing your wrist slowly, and kindly. You felt a little shocked with his sudden move, but all of them were gone the second after he started to rub your wrist with his thumb, sending shivers down your spine. “C’mon,” he whispered while getting up from the sofa, his hand still capturing your wrist. “Let’s get us to bed.”

You simply nodded, you didn’t know what to say when he was this sad but also kind. He walked you to your shared bedroom, his hand still capturing your wrist, and he didn’t want to let it go – not that you weren’t loving it, you loved it, indeed, you were fine with him capturing your hand until the end of time.

So you two ended up in the bed, bodies intertwined, you were hugging him behind his back, your hands around his tiny waist, his hands on top of yours – scooping him.

You two ended up sleeping like that, the only sound in the house was the sound of your breathing, and it was the most peaceful thing – being like that, inhaling his scent, inhaling his worst, inhaling all the sadness in his body.

And God knew, that you wouldn’t hesitate if you could replace all of the bad feelings he had felt and he’ll feel in your body – if that means he’ll be happy.

\

“I told you there was nothing happening between me and her!” He snapped at you, his neck veins looked like they’re going to blow up any minute later.

You hysterically cracked a laugh. “Yeah? Is that why I saw her grabbing your torso when you guys thought that I’m in the bedroom? Is that why she buried his head in your neck, Jungkook?”

His jaw dropped, eyes wide opened, but this time you didn’t see any evidence of guilt in them. “Are you spying on me now? Is that who you going to be? Are you going to be this low?”

“Are you really trying to make this sound like it’s my fault? Are you fucking serious Jungkook?” You laughed in pain, this time without crying, just with the delight of being played again – with the boy you loved with your whole being. “I can’t understand you anymore!”

“Oh, really?” He took a few steps to you, still barking like a fucking dog. “Like I can fucking understand myself!”

You took a deep breath before speaking, this time with a low voice. “Just, stop this.” His eyes were near yours now. “Let’s stop for a minute, okay?”

He lifted his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes off. “Okay.”

“Are you hungry? Or do you want me to make you coffee so we can talk through this, okay? We have all night now, we can talk about everything, Jungkook.”

He looked at you like he was disgusted. “So what now?” He took a few steps back from you like he couldn’t bear being near you anymore. “Are you going to play with me like you’re a fucking psychiatric? And I’m your patient?”

“Jungkook, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” you softly spoke.

He wasn’t listening. “I’m going, Y/N.” He found his leather jacket on the sofa being thrown the minute after he let himself in with full anger. “I’m going back to Jimin’s, okay? You can entertain yourself just fine. If you can’t…find a fucking plushie and be their counsellor. I’m sure it can give you the answers I can never give.”

And like that, he was gone again.

He was gone like a wind, hard at once and disappeared within a second. Effective while it lasts, missing when it’s gone.

He was gone like a spark, hot and dangerous at once and still painful when it burned out.

Jeon Jungkook was the fire himself.

\

Nothing could compare with the feeling you felt that day when Jimin called you. You were sitting on the chair you loved since the day you moved into this apartment, blankly looking at the ceiling with a couple of cigarettes burning up and out for hours. (Yes, that was one of the things Jeon Jungkook made you do to yourself, other than wanting to be dead 7/24, living with no self-respect and being in love with the feeling of forgetting him due to your overdrinking of alcohol)

You still remember the feeling in your chest when you see the ID on your phone, Park Jimin, a friend of Jungkook and you, the burning ache in your chest which made breathing like a hell, and you never wanted to feel something like that again – because you could’ve sworn that you thought your heart was going to explode.

“J-Jimin,” you stuttered when you answered the call, your fingers were shaking, your heart was beating fast, and your bloodstream was boiling.

Jimin was calling you from somewhere noisy, probably from a party; because you were hearing the music blasting, and the screaming noises coming from the people. “Hey,” he almost shouted, “Y/N?”

“Jimin?” You shouted as well, but with full of concern boiling in your blood as well. “What’s going on? Is Jungkook okay?”

“No,” he dropped the bomb like that. “Are you home? I’m taking him home.”

Home. As if.

“Yes, yes,” you didn’t hesitate, but how could you? How could you hesitate when he needed you? Did he even need you at all?

“Okay,” his voice was clearer now, probably he was – they were – leaving the party behind, and you couldn’t help it and wanted to talk to him, or at least know why he is not okay.

“Is he with you?” Your voice cracked, and you wished he didn’t understand that, but he probably did.

He sighed. “Yes.”

Silence.

“But he’s not okay.”

“I figured,” you cracked a desperate laugh. “Want me to do anything before you guys get here?

Silence.

“Y/N…um, do you maybe…have a first aid kit?”

Your jaw dropped. “Jimin, is he okay?” You shouted while jumping off from the chair, your other hand was in your hair, pulling it.

You felt the fear in your chest, the fear of losing him – in your veins, in your brains, in your body cells…everywhere.

And you didn’t like it at all.

You hated it.

“Yes, I mean, no – he is alive, he is bleeding a little, but he’ll survive. Do you have it or not?” His voice was demanding, and more understandable by now.

“We have,” you answered.

“We’re coming, okay, Y/N? He’s okay, he’s with me, I’m taking him to you, okay?”

“Okay.” You softly spoke back, you couldn’t pay what he was doing to you in any way. So you said the only thing you could think of before ending the line. “And Jimin?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” You spoke to the line with a soft voice, but in a very sincere tone. “Thank you, Jimin.” You said the last two words while crying, and this time you didn’t care if he understands or not.

\

The doorbell made you even crazier, if this is possible to begin with, because you were waiting for Jimin and Jungkook’s return like a freak since you hang up, and you haven’t sat down since - or breathed properly

And when the fucking doorbell rang - you were beyond crazy, you were something else. Something even scientist couldn’t describe. You wipe off the unstoppable tears from your bloodshot eyes, and you quickly moved to open the door.

Oh, and when you opened it.

Jimin was holding Jungkook, you were able to see the veins in his neck, and you thought they were going to explode right there because no human could bear this, you thought - but it turned out Park Jimin can.

And Jungkook.

Jungkook, the man you love, the one who should be your boyfriend after all, even after all that happened “I was trying to figure myself out” bullshit, the man you forgave while knowing the foreign fingertips on his skin, was zoned out completely, and his shirt was cover of his - or could be anyone else’s - vomit. He tried opening his eyes for a second but couldn’t maintain them open, then he tried again, and failed. Yes, the two of you got drunk before; and yes, the two of you got wasted too - but this wasn’t normal.

“Oh my, Jimin, is he -”

“Y/N, help me out, let’s carry him to the bed, then we can talk.” Jimin didn’t waste his time, and he certainly didn’t give you any second for you to absorb the situation you’re in, and maybe it was for the best - the “I can’t understand this” thing, for your own mental health, obviously.

And the next thing you remembered was you and Jimin carrying the wasted boyfriend to your - and his - bed, one arm on your shoulder and the other one on was on Jimin’s, though Jimin was carrying the most of his weight.

You and Jimin stumbled around trying to reach the bed, while Jungkook was murmuring some weird sounds, but you didn’t understand what he was saying. And you were almost sure that they didn’t mean anything at all.

Almost, again. It was a joke for you to never have the chance to be free from this word, the saddest word of all words, the word which meant getting a taste of victory, but never actually reaching the true one at all, the one-word story for broken hearts.

“Softly,” Jimin spoke while the two of you were at the end of the bed. You slowly dropped his arm from your shoulder, helping him get comfortable on the bed while covering him with a blanket.

“Y/N?” Jungkook murmured, his breath full of alcohol and cigarettes.

“Yeah?” You said with a pitched voice, making you question yourself  if you were crying again.

“Is this really you?” He sounds concerned, like you were not supposed to be with him there. And maybe you weren’t.

“Yes.” You whispered in the silence, dark room. “It’s me, Jungkook.”

“I thought I was dreaming,” he cracked a laugh, but his voice was coming from behind since his head was buried under a pillow. “Why?”

“Why?” You double asked. “You’re home, Jungkook.” You gulped the pain in your throat.

“Why are you always nice to me?”

You felt the tears coming, but you couldn’t care less about them. “It’s called love, Jungkook.”

“I guess so,” he obeyed. “But I treated you bad.”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You do that sometimes.” And with that, you got up from the bed, and started to walk to the door with Jimin behind you.

The minute you hold the doorknob to close it, Jungkook softly spoke again.

“I love you too,” he said. “I guess so.”

That was it. Only a sentence, a word spoken by him. It took only a word for you to fall in love with him all over again, because that is the real side of the “love” – the side they don’t tell you when they’re speaking about the love they feel, because love doesn’t mean all happiness and passion; love also means gloomy days, love means despair, love means suffering.

But even that wasn’t enough – because loving Jeon Jungkook felt even worse, because loving Jeon Jungkook wasn’t healthy at all, and that wasn’t the worst thing. Because the worst was loving the feeling he was giving you, the despair coming with him, loving the suffering coming with him, and oh god – you really did love all of him, you really accepted all of him.

All of him.

Without an exception.

You wiped off the remaining tears from your eyes while leaving him behind you, because he needed to rest, and you didn’t want to cry in front of him – not that he cared, or had any energy left in his weak and drunk body to care anyway.

“Y/N,” Jimin softly called you when you closed the door behind you, leaving Jungkook alone in the room. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look like okay?” You said, eyes full of tears, t-shirt full of tears, heart full of tears. “What’s happening to him? I want to know why, Jimin. I want to know why this is not enough.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, wanting to lead you to the bathroom. “I wish I’d know why,” he said while massaging your shoulder. “I wish I’d help you with that.”

“You can.”

His eyes opened a little more with surprise. “How?”

“Is he seeing someone? Do you know anything about all of this? Do you know something…something you can say to me so I won’t care anymore? Say that he doesn’t care about me, say that he doesn’t give a shit, say that he’s cheating again…can you do that?”

You saw Jimin’s eyes, and how they opened wide with your last words. “I’m…Y/N…please believe me when I say it but – I really don’t know. I really don’t fucking know if he’s doing it again. I really don’t fucking know what’s happening to him.”

“Okay.” You simply said back at him, sniffing. “O-okay, I believe you. I believe you more than I believe him, you know that right?”

He looked broken, like you. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged off. “I’m really sorry for that too.”

“I should get going now,” he said, eyes far away from you. “Since he’s safe and sound now.”

And then he started to walk through to the door, slowly – like he was waiting for you to speak – and you didn’t know what to do, other than what your heart wanted to say, so you just let it go.

“But I’m not,” you whispered from his back.

“Do you…maybe want me to stay the night? In case he needs something –“

“ – Would be perfect,” you cut him off. “I think, I’m not sure – but I’m sure that I don’t want to feel alone anymore, Jimin.”

\

That night you feel asleep on the couch, with Jungkook’s jacket to cover you up, and Jimin on the other couch – because he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

Because you didn’t get any sleep for days, and once you did, he didn’t want to wake you up.

But, the thing is, you still remember something from that night.

Something – a tiny something, but you don’t know for sure if it’s the reality, and you’re afraid of it to be true, as a matter of fact.

You remember waking up in the night, Jungkook’s jacket was gone now, a soft blanket covering you up, and you remember a man’s gaze on you, a beautiful man even in the dark – not that you opened your eyes widely – and probably that man didn’t see you waking up.

And you just wanted to know why he wasn’t sleeping, like you were.

And you just wanted to know why he was looking at you.

And he spoke, you didn’t understand it in the beginning, since it was even more silent than whispering, but then it got clearer. “…I wish I was the one who could wipe all the tears from your face,” you heard, or you thought. “But then I remember I wouldn’t make you cry if you’d give me the chance to be yours. But I know how love works, and I’m okay with that. I’m okay with being the shoulder you cried more than once because of him, Y/N.”

\

Not even the morning was as easier as you expected, Jungkook slept the day off, Jimin did some groceries, insisting that you need to eat, and he wasn’t a quitter – you learned that while he was watching you munching on your food, wanting to be sure that you’re eating well.

Not that you were complaining, since you haven’t eaten a proper meal for days, the taste of good food made you feel a little bit more alive than than yesterday.

Around noon, Jimin was watching TV on the sofa, not actually speaking to you – and you appreciated that, because you didn’t know what to say, and you couldn’t be more relieved when he didn’t ask you anything but coffee or tea once in a couple of hours. Nothing more, nothing less.

But you were the one who broke the unnecessary silence between you and him.

“Should we check on him?” You shyly asked between your breathing.

He stopped watching the TV, surprised for hearing your voice. “If you want to.”

“I want to.” You said, voice never been this confident.

And that leads you to your shared room, walking timidly but not having any doubt of what you decide. You were just not sure if you want to face him, but you were sure about checking on him since he didn’t even leave the room for hours now.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Not that you’re counting, but you did.

Four steps.

You heard a voice coming from the room – didn’t feel like him actually speaking, but it was obvious that he was awake, and talking.

Five steps.

He wasn’t talking.

Six steps.

He was crying.

Seven steps.

He was crying his heart out.

And shit – you weren’t going to let that happen, not in front of you, not even in your dreams. That’s how whipped you became.

And shit – you hold the handle of the door, and slowly opened it.

And shit – he stopped crying that moment, and his eyes met with yours, all wet and bloody, no sign of humanity or happiness, or even a belief that he cared – not just about you, but about himself, about the world, about all the things going on.  

“Jungkook?” You called, whispering.

He quickly brought his hands to his eyes, trying to hide his tears. “Y-yes?”

What now? What could you even say to him at that point? What could you say that will make him feel better? That will make him alive again? That will make him yours again?

So you decided to not saying anything – highly because it was the first time you saw him that wrecked since the day you met, and you were speechless – and you slowly took a step to the bed he was lying, turning himself into a ball; a ball that will protect him, that will isolate him from the whole world, even from you.

Mostly from you.

And you took another step, your whole body craving his touch – you felt like burning, you felt like becoming ashes, you felt like collapsing.

You were aching for him – so you took another step, a step that moved you to the end of your shared bed.

You were shaking, your whole body was shaking, for a second you wanted to get out of the room, for a second you were about the run off – run off from him, but mostly from yourself.

He looked at you, not that you were looking at him – but you were feeling his gaze on you, a cold gaze to be exact, one that was making your blood drained.

“Come here,” he sobbed, voice distant.

And you did as he said. You slowly made your way to the bed, placing yourself behind him, and making him turn into a spoon, your body becoming an armor.

He was shaking – but not as much as you – and sobbing, trying to stop himself from crying. Not that he needed to do that, because you weren’t going to judge him for that, obviously, but you knew that he was the one who was judging himself, not wanting to look weak.

“I’m staying,” you comforted him. “Is that okay with you?”

He nodded as he placed himself better into your body, clearly wanting to be held. “It’s more than okay.”

You held him tighter, and he let you.

He let you hold him through the night, he let you hold him through the morning, he let you hold him – full of him.

And you did.

Until he’s gone again.

\

For a couple of days, Jungkook was quieter than he had ever been, like he lost all of his humanity, all of his care, all of his joy – and the only thing left was the skin and bones. You wasn’t concerned in the beginning, but you slowly started to feel the distance, and the difference with him, and how he became numb since the day he came back from wherever he was.

It was the depression he must’ve been feeling, you thought. And it was true, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t worry about his well-being, right?

He wasn’t listening to your words, or anything else, it took him so much time to respond to any of your sentences. “Jungkook?” You’d say once, and he wouldn’t look, not even flinch. “Jungkook,” You’d say again, and he wouldn’t respond either. “Jungkook?” You’d call him again, with a clear voice, hoping you’d get a respond – if you’re lucky – and it’d be “Hm?” or “W-what?”

He wasn’t eating properly, and god, he was a big eater. You’d get his favorite dish from his favorite restaurant, but he wouldn’t even look twice at the food, nor eating it.

He didn’t even leave the house, although he was one of the most active people you had ever met, he became an indoor person quickly, and whenever you’d mention about a night out, he’d say that he wasn’t feeling like it.

But lately, you weren’t even sure that he was feeling anything – anything!

“Jungkook?” You called him again, it was almost midnight, and you were trying to do your college homework in the living room, while he was sitting – just sitting, and staring, much and much staring, to be exact – right next to you.

He didn’t respond, but you were getting used to that. Yes, it did hurt, but you were trying your best to be helpful, not that you were really successful, but you were at least trying, right?

“Jungkook?” You called, this time touching his left thigh.

He flinched at your touch, the only way to get his attention. “Yes?” His voice coming from afar, although he was right next to you.

“Are you sleepy? You can go sleep,” you softly offered. “I’m coming in ten.”

“I’m always sleeping,” he whined. “When will it be over?”

You didn’t know, shit, you didn’t even know why all of this started in the first place – but somehow it did, and it became a living hell.

“Sleep with me.” You murmured, not wanting to be the clingy girlfriend, but you didn’t know what to say, or what to do.

He turned his doe eyes to yours, almost pouting. “Will you hold me like the last time?”

You lifted your hand to his hair, playing with it for a short time. “Yeah,” you smiled in pain. “Yeah – I’ll.” You carefully and slowly lowered your hand to his cheeks, wanting to comfort him.

He smiled for a second, a fake one – probably – but it felt enough for you to smile even harder. “I’ll whenever you want, Kookie.”

He left a warm peck in the palm of your hand, sending shivers down your spine.

What a wonderful thing, getting to know all of you, Jeon Jungkook, you thought. What a wonderful life when it’s full of you. What a wonderful love where I’m still as whipped as on the first day, even when the only thing left in this relationship was intimacy and pain.

But you didn’t say those to him.

\

A week later he was gone outside with his friends, again – five days in a row – and you weren’t complaining in the beginning, god, you never complained, but it was the hell of a mood change, and it wasn’t healthy considering the last week.

“Going out again?” You teased him that night.

He was dressing up for the night – all casually, with a t-shirt and jeans on – and he wasn’t looking at you. You heard him sigh, an irritated one, and he wasn’t going to let you whine about him. “Yes, got a problem?”

You cracked a small laugh. “Me? Would you care?”

“No,” he spat. “I was just asking. It wouldn’t matter, of course.”

“Of course!” You provoked him, harshly. “Of course I wouldn’t matter.”

He continued with his goddamned sigh, making you cringe with your whole body. “Y/N, calm down, will you? I feel better now, didn’t you want it?”

“This,” you air quoted him. “This isn’t better, Jungkook.”

“Oh crap!” He shouted at you, eyes looked like he was disgusted with you. And maybe he was. “I can’t, I really can’t fucking listen to your complaining, not again. I’m going out, period.”

“I didn’t say you can’t,” you over-calmly said, wanting to make him angry. “You can, be my guest. Get wasted, get drunk!”

“Oh, I will!” He shouted again, voice clearly irritated at you, and he started to walk through the door while you followed him after.

You cracked another mirthless laugh. “Oh, and, don’t forget to fuck someone while you’re there!”

“You know what, I will.” He snapped at you, making your blood drained. “And I’ll make sure to fuck them good.”

“You should send me pictures,” you barked back, not actually hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He snickered. “Fuck the pictures, love, I’ll send you videos, one for each girl.” He was at the door, and he opened it widely, and a second later he was walking from the apartment, again.

“Please do that!” You shouted from the back.

Please don’t do that.

\

“Park Jimin,” you shouted as loud as your sore throat allowed you, sore from crying and over drinking. You continued as you lowered your voice a little, realizing that that throat of yours wasn’t better and definitely wasn’t going to get better. “I should be the one asking you that, because, although I do love you – and you know that, I don’t like people calling me this late.”

“Are you sick?” He asked, his voice sounded more concerned than you expected.

You shut your eyes for a second.

Are you, sick?

You opened your eyes after you took a sharp breath. “Depends, are you asking physically or mentally?” You asked, trying to maintain your steady voice, careful not to make it sound like you were crying – but the thing is, you were crying for weeks, and he probably knew already.

“Both?” His voice was afraid of your possible answers, as far as you could understand from his cracked tone of voice. It just made you want to cry more because you weren’t just hurting yourself, you were hurting him too.

You sighed. “The answer is yes, and yes.”

“Oh, Y/N…” He gulped, not knowing what to say that would comfort you, or because there was nothing to say to you that would make you alright, “I’m sorry.”

Silence.

You sobbed.

Silence.

“Yeah,” you managed to whisper, “Yeah…I…I’m sorry too, Jimin.”

Silence.

You cried a little. He didn’t say a word. He heard you, but he didn’t say anything, thankfully, because you didn’t know what to do.

“He’s not there, is he?” He gulped again, voice cracking, making you go nuts at Jeon Jungkook for hurting not only you, but your best friend too.

You exhaled loudly, blinking your tired eyes a few times, hoping that’d make your crying stop, but it didn’t. “He isn’t .”

“For how long?” He asked, afraid of your answer. Terrified of hearing you say “days” or “weeks” – because Park Jimin was a good friend to both of you. Because seeing you in that amount of agony made him angry, and sad too, and seeing Jungkook’s wasted and helpless ass every time made him disgusted, because he wasn’t the man he knew for months, and it made him miss the old Jeon Jungkook more and more each day.

“I really can’t say, Jimin.” You started to speak, your bloodshot eyes focusing on the picture you two took the day you moved into this apartment. You were on Jungkook’s back, smiling fearlessly, your arms were holding him. He wasn’t much different; he was doing his biggest bunny smile, his eyes were nowhere to be found. It was a Polaroid, to be exact, but Jungkook went outside and bought a frame in the Polaroid’s size that day. You remembered every second of that day, but you also remembered how naïve you were for believing every word he said, believing every word you said.

“Some days he comes late to sleep and leaves before I do. But I know he was home because those times I can smell his sharp cologne in the house, and he usually eats something before he leaves, so I’m pretty much sure. Other times he never comes, or he comes wasted and knocks out in the hall, near the entrance.”

“Do you remember the last time he was home?” He asked again. However,  this time his tone was different, unquestionably asking you about the last time the two of you acted like a couple – like a boyfriend and a girlfriend.  

“As a matter of fact, I don’t even remember the last time I stepped outside my house, Jimin,” you answered, colder than ice itself. “So, no – I don’t remember when this started, but I do vividly  remember that somewhere along the way, he turned into a different person.”

“Right…” He eventually said in a sad voice, making your heart shattered again. “He wasn’t like that before.”

*

* (to remember what happened between Jimin’s call and Y/N forgiving Jungkook, please read Chapter II again.)

*(I hope it wasn’t THAT complicated!)

*

*

“Look at me, love.”

You heard him whisper softly into your ear after leaving a little peck on it. Your whole body was craving attention, and your whole body was on fire because of him, your whole body was burning under his touch.

You opened your eyes again and met with his bloodshot, tired, swollen eyes. On second thought, he wasn’t perfect at all, not like that.

He was desperate for you to forgive him.  He was a mess, he was in pain, he was lost, he was helpless.

He wasn’t perfect.

“Everything will be alright this time.”

You noticed the bags under his eyes, you noticed how much weight he lost since you last saw him. You noticed his messy and long hair, and you realized they needed a cut.

You noticed the crack in his once angelic voice, you noticed his sore throat, you noticed the blank gaze he was giving you the entire time.

He wasn’t the Jeon Jungkook you knew.

Or maybe he was the Jeon Jungkook you knew.

You weren’t sure at all. You weren’t sure who was the person you were sitting and talking to this entire time– or shit, the whole years.

But you were sure about one thing.

One small thing that changed everything.

Whoever he was, it didn’t matter.

Whoever he was, you were madly in love with. With your whole being.

Or what was left of it.

“I won’t mess this up, Y/N. Not this time.”

\

What does “falling in love” feels like? Does it feel like you’re up to the clouds, never coming back, living upon them?  Does it feel like you can do anything, feels like you’re the bravest person on the earth? Does it make you love yourself more? Does it feel like you’re capable of anything? Does it make you want to scream from all the happiness and pureness, wanting to let everyone and everything on this endless galaxy know that you’re in love, that you’re happy, that you’re living your greatest moments in life?

Absolutely not.

Maybe in a parallel universe, maybe in another lifetime, with another love, with another person.

But – absolutely fucking not with Jeon Jungkook.

Loving him was never grey, and it never felt grey, it was either black or white – no exceptions.

Loving him was like a mirage, a mirage that fades away whenever you come near it, whenever your heart feels like it’s right in front of your eyes, it fades away.

And it fades away really quickly.

And it fades away, leaving you with the damage of the disaster. Leaving you in the darkness that you sometimes thought of it swallowing you, possessing you, frightening you. Leaving you with never-ending tears, never dying fear, never stopping anxiety.

Leaving you all by yourself.

“I won’t mess this up, Y/N. Not this time.”

Oh well, he didn’t – until he did, again, again and again.

But the worst was you, getting used to it, getting used to it being a daily routine – like eating, or breathing.

When he came back to you, with all good intentions (his words, not yours), you hoped a little that he will be okay this time, but only held that hope in your heart, forgotten in the depths of it.

But god knows you did – you tried, again, like you haven’t tried not once, or twice, or the hundredth.

But you did try, once again.

Once again, because he needed you, and you needed him.

Isn’t everything this easy? Isn’t it enough for you to try again?

It was enough for you, but it never felt easy.

So maybe “loving someone” made you said the words that day, the words that let Jungkook into your life, again. “Loving someone” made you that person again, the person who accepts the one who turned you into a fucking mess. 

And “loving someone” made you tried again, for the love of him, for the sake of him - never you, never was and never will.

“How about going to a movie tonight?” You childishly suggested, sitting on the sofa right beside him, your arms around your knees, not like they’re protecting you but you love the feeling. 

He didn’t look once, and just shrugged off. “If you want to.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, sensing his lack of joy. “But only if you want.”

“I don’t mind." 

"I want to do something that you’ll like,” you admitted, shyly. 

He turned his gaze to you. “I could use a movie,” he said, his soft brown eyes still looking empty as before. “C'mon, get ready. We’re going.”

“Really? You sure?” Your jaw dropped to his sudden change of behavior.

“Yeah yeah,” he shrugged off, “I’m sure. I want to.”

“Okay then,” you suddenly got up from the sofa, turning your way to the bedroom. “Give me five minutes.”

The movie was nice, except for the fact that you always had the feeling of making Jungkook something he doesn’t want to, and he sensed it. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, whispering in your ear. 

You turned to your left only to face him, his head was leaning into your seat, his eyes were so close, his presence making you go nuts. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?" 

He chuckled softly, his voice sounded like a poem itself. "You don’t watch the movie, I can see your gaze on me." 

"Yeah?” You stuttered. “I didn’t notice.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Watch it, it’s really good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled again, “You’re weird today.”

Yeah, you thought. I am.

\

The next few days weren’t better, they were slightly worse, to be exact. Jungkook’s energy has been getting lower and lower, and you started to notice how blank his eyes became, how he stopped eating after his fourth spoon, how he refused to go out when you wanted, or even how he became silent around you.

“Jimin called you today,” you spoke carefully, not wanting to step on his nerves.

“Yeah?” He called from the sofa. He’s been sitting there pretending to watch shitty shows for hours, and you were questioning his well-being.

“Hm,” you responded. “He’s asking if you want to go out today or not.”

“I don’t want to,” he spat.

“Yeah?” You stopped for a second, measuring the words in your brain, choosing them carefully. “You should give him a call though.”

“He’ll know my answer when I won’t show up.”

“You guys are okay?” You asked, confused about his choice of words.

He hummed, “We’re okay. I just want to stay at home, okay?”

“O-okay,” you didn’t move it further, afraid of a possible fight. “You want to do something?”

“I don’t,” he quickly responded. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you shrugged off. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” he exhaled a long, worried breath. “Good to know.”

\

Yes, practically he didn’t mess it up this time, but he didn’t make it better either. Because after a few more days passed, you started to notice his lack of everything. No feeling, no health, no sleep, no interactions, no this, no that – no!

“I’ve made breakfast,” you said after hearing his steps towards the kitchen.

He rubbed his eyes while yawning, “I’m not eating,” he said while stumbling around the kitchen, still half asleep.

“You don’t?” Your voice was thinner and weaker now, knowing how eager he was to eat when he wakes up normally.

“No,” he simply said. “I don’t want to.”

“O-okay,” you murmured. “It’s here though,” you pointed the plastic box, “you can heat it whenever you want. I have class today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he started to walk out. “Will do. Have a nice class.”

“Yeah,” you hummed. “Have a nice day then.”

And he was gone.

Again.

\

“Jungkook hasn’t left the house for five days,” you whispered into Jimin’s ear. You were worried about him, about his health – both mentally and physically – and the only one you could take advise from was Jimin, not because he was the closest with Jungkook, but he was also the closest with you and plus, he was a good listener.

He slid his chair towards you, not wanting anyone in the café to hear your conversation since it was located on the campus. He leaned in a little, “He’s not responding to my texts either,” he added.

“Really?” You quickly responded, your eyes wide opened. “He said that you guys are alright though.”

“Really?” This time he was the one in shock. “He’s not calling or texting since you guys are – you know, how can say it? Back together? But it’s not like you guys are actually broke up, but – “

“I understood it, Jimin.” You smiled a little, even thinking of the days without him sounded lonely, dark and blank. “What am I going to do now?”

“You?” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You are not the person who must do something. He is.”

“I want to help him.”

He didn’t look interested, he looked bored of this. Bored of your complaints, your cheesiness, and your problematic boyfriend. “He’s not five, he should be taking care of himself.” He said in a cold tone, the coldest, and he wasn’t even looking at you.

“It’s not like that!” You shouted desperately. “I want to be with him, I want to make him feel like he’s not alone.”

“He should’ve known that by now,” he scoffed, making you want to throw up right there and now. “You’re doing everything, and by that I mean everything, Y/N, and if he’s still making you want to try again, making you feel small – I swear to god, I love him but I love you more, and I will make him suffer. Understood?”

“H-he is trying,” you stuttered. “He’s trying to be – a better person.”

“Good to know,” his voice was still cold as ice.

Silence.

You tapped your fingers on the table.

Silence.

“You should – maybe – call his mother? She’d talk to you about this, I mean, she knows how to deal with it, his change in behavior, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He was indeed, right. You should call his mother, since you were sure about her not reaching his own son, she must be worried too, right? “You’re right. Thank you, Jimin, and by that, I mean I’m really thankful.”

“No worries,” he smiled as warm as the sun. “I’m here to help. It’s what best friends are for, right?”

“Right,” you nodded.

“Right,” he said again, and this time his tone was sadder.

\

She answered the phone in twenty seconds. “Hello?”

Jungkook’s family wasn’t like an actual family, he said that he never called his father “dad” once, and how he tried to be close with his mother but failed every time she protected his father over him. And you never heard him talking to his father after you two got here, and how rarely he talked with his mother whom he loved so much, indeed, she was the soft spot of him.

A love that he gave a lot, but never got enough. Like you.

“Mrs. Jeon!” You tried to sound cheerful, if that is possible. “How are you?”

“Y/N!” She cheered for you. “I’m fine, and old. How are you doing? Is my Jungkookie okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. “We’re good. We’re doing our best, trying – at least.”

“Ah! Don’t be so humble, you’re doing great. Jungkookie tells me about you every time, how you scored the highest on an exam, how you cook his favorite meals even when you’re tired.”

“Really?” Now you were in shock. “He told you that?”

She hummed. “And more.”

“More?”

“Ah, Y/N,” she stopped for a second. “You know, he’s not good with words, he probably doesn’t tell you all of this, but he tells me. He tells me how you’re always with him, even when he screws up. And believe me, I know how big he can screw up.”

“I – I didn’t know he felt this way,” you stuttered. “He never tells me. Lately, we don’t even speak to each other, he’s…silent.”

She hummed again. “Sometimes he is.”

“And sometimes he’s living everything to the fullest, and I’m being left alone.”

You hoped she didn’t notice your voice breaking, but it was a matter of fact that she already knew. Mrs. Jeon kept the silence for a while, not even making a sound, like she was waiting for you to calm down again.

And she spoke again, “Sometimes he does that.”

“Yeah,” you sniffed. “Sometimes it does hurt.”

“Oh my baby,” she continued. “But don’t forget that he’s not your responsibility, and you have every right to walk out from the relationship whenever you feel like you can’t continue, and you don’t have to continue. Okay?”

“O-okay,” you only managed to say. “I want to help him though.”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“I love him,” you quickly said, tears falling down to your cheeks. “I do.”

“Then keep loving him,” she spoke in a soft voice. “It’s the best and only thing you can do.”

\

The minute you stepped inside of your shared home, you felt something different in your veins – something different, something which is not making you want to disappear now, something that makes you want to continue, like Mrs. Jeon said.

You knew he was in the apartment, you just knew it, not just because he hasn’t left the house for five days, not just because the smell of his sharp cologne was all over the room – but something inside of your heart, a pinch of feeling told you that he’s home.

He’s home.

You started to walk towards your bedroom, not calling out for him or anything, not wanting to frighten him, not wanting to bother him… The silence in the room was always unbearable, but not this time, this time it was calming, this time you liked the silence. This time silence didn’t make you think that you’re left alone, this time the silence didn’t make you think that he’s far away – because this time he was here, he was with you; a step away, just a step away.

So you took the step.

“Jungkook?” You said, voice soft and whispering as you stepped into the room. And you found him there, lying on the bed, looking at the ceiling – completely out of this world.

He didn’t say anything back, like you thought, but you didn’t care and took a step forward to the bed instead. You didn’t say anything, not even a word, and you softly lifted the blanket and got into the bed with him.

He didn’t look at you, and you started to think if he’s on drugs or whatever – because if he was on drugs, you wouldn’t be surprised, it was not like you didn’t suspect anything before.

You held him from behind – just like he loved it. He loved being taken care of, he loved being safe inside your arms; he wasn’t going to say that to you, but you knew it.  You held him like the other days, like the days he wanted a shelter to protect himself from the world – but mostly from himself.

“Hey,” he whispered, shifting to play with your hair, your head was on his chest and you could hear his heartbeats – such a calming voice, you thought.

“Hey,” you said back. “How are you?”

“Same,” he simply answered. “Still feeling like shit.”

You gulped in pain, your eyes on his dark brown eyes which was making you still think that the world is a good place after all.

“I’m sorry Jungkook,” you whispered into his ear, leaving a warm peck on his cheek. “But I don’t fucking know what to do, and I want to do something and I did, I fucking did try to find something to help you feel better but I can’t find the answers and it’s making me crazy to think that – “

He cut your words coming from your mouth with his own soft pink lips, and he tasted something different – yet still warm and good.

But the difference made you terrified, petrified, and with the little taste coming from his lips to yours (them being beer and cigarettes) you felt a single drop coming from your eyes to your cheeks, this was something you do lately, the crying without expecting and you were used to it.  

“Ssh,” he whispered to your lips. “Let me do the thinking. Stop trying to help it, Y/N. You can’t. Only I can do it.”

“But I –“

“Ssh,” he cupped your cheeks into his big veiny hands, playing with your cheeks with his thumbs. “Let me do the thinking from now on.”

“Okay.”

“Let me love you tonight, Y/N.” He kissed your lips again, this time with a little bit more passion. “Let me make love to you tonight, Y/N.”

He held your hips and carried you into his laps, holding onto your waist as he started to kiss your jawline slowly. “Let me fuck you until you can’t overthink anymore.”

You stared into his eyes, eyes that have been making you feel on fire every fucking time you look at them and saw the hunger, the passion, the love that hasn’t been there for so, so long.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you said while panting. “Please do.”

“Please do what?” He smirked.

You felt a spank on your butt. A little “Oh,” slapped from your mouth. “Please fuck me.”

He smiled like he’s been possessed. “Since you asked so nicely…”

\

Ups and downs.

Your life became like a rollercoaster.

Jeon Jungkook who’s in a good mood and Jeon Jungkook who’s in a bad mood.

The last time you checked he was complaining about being always sleepy and how he never wants to leave the room, and second he’s out there again – making bad decisions about his life, and probably fucking another girl again behind your back.

Does he doing it again? Cheating on me? Were all the forgiveness I gave him for nothing?

Fucking Jeon Jungkook and his ups and downs.

Fucking you and your pathetic self being for not breaking up with him once and for all.

Fucking you because you knew, from the beginning that he never was and never will be the “Jeon Jungkook” you imagined when you were 17.

Fucking you because you also knew that he wasn’t capable of fixing himself, and fucking you for thinking maybe, maybe in the slightest way that you could – fix him.

Fuck you!

“Y/N?”

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him…

“Y/N? You there?”

You heard his voice over the door of your shared apartment – almost whispering your name very desperately. But…why? The last time you saw him was Wednesday this week, when he left the house while you were cooking in the kitchen, to meet one or two of his friends, and now it was Saturday.

Pretty pathetic, isn’t it?

He must’ve forgot his keys or how to use them to open the door, you thought.

Yes, that also happened. Sometimes Jungkook drank way too much in order to forget how to open the fucking door and woke you up in the middle of the night.

“Y/N, it’s me, baby.”

And who are you, actually?

Who are you?

“Y/N, I swear I’m not here to fight. I just want to sleep baby. I’m tired.”

Because of what?

“Please baby…”

Crying.

“Please…”

More crying.

Is it you or him crying?

“Let me in, please.”

Both, probably.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?”

No, Jungkook.

I will.

I always will.

You did.

“Y/N?” He said in a shock. “Thank you.”

You shrugged off, like you didn’t give a fuck at all – you did – and started to walk back to your room – his room too, but who can say – while never turning back to look at him, not even once. Until he held your hand before you even understand what was going on, and very tightly, I must add.

You turned back to face him. “What Jungkook?”

“I’m…sorry,” he gently released your hand. “I just wanted to thank you.”

“You did,” you spitted. “Five seconds ago.”

“But you didn’t say anything back.”

He looked…hurt.

He really looked like a lost puppy – like the day he made a fuss at the graduation, like the day he begged for your forgiveness when all he did was fucking every breathing person on the planet and made you think that he’s maybe dead or something, and every fucking time you took him back to your life when all he did was asking for more and more.

It’s all lies, someone inside your head said. It’s all his lies and you know it. It’s always his lies. He’s trying to gain your pity, because he knows – he knows you will melt less than a second. Don’t buy it!

“I won’t buy it,” you barked at him.

His tilted his head. “You won’t buy what?”

You still smelled the other’s perfumes on him – other’s loving him, other’s touching him, smiling at him, making him ask for more, and making him forget you in the blink of an eye. “I won’t buy your lies. I won’t be the girl you took for granted. At least not anymore.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Baby…Y/N, you know you’re not like that! It wasn’t like that this time!”

“Oh!” You spitted at him, wanting to punch him in the face for using pet names for you again. “And how am I supposed to know that Jungkook, ha? Am I supposed to know it based on your behaviours, huh? You fuck every living thing on earth, you fight with everyone who you like to fight, you don’t listen to me, your family or Park Jimin who’s happened to be your best friend. I’m looking at you but all I see is…all I see is…”

“…All you see is what?” His voice was angrier now, much confident before a minute ago, much more like he was afraid of what’s coming next.

And he should be, you thought.

He should be afraid of what’s next.

You were afraid of what’s next too, after all – but you had to do it.

“…All you see is what, Y/N?”

You had to.

“All I see is your manipulative, narcissist, egoist ass talking shit about a feeling you’ve never been able to feel.”

You did.

“Oh.”

“And that’s called love, Jeon fucking Jungkook – and I know I’m the pathetic one for forgiving you once and twice and third and maybe like a dozen times but now I see the bigger picture. You, Jeon Jungkook, you make me feel small and I don’t remember the last time I ate something or the last time I laughed or the last time I met with someone other than you or your friends. I’m dying to be with you – and by that, I meant the literal dying, Jungkook. For this day I never put myself first but I have to do it before I lose everything I have including my sanity. And every day I wonder – I wonder if you ever feel guilty, I wonder if you ever feel guilty the way I do, I wonder if you ever feel like you can’t breathe - because you’re full of your lies.”

You exhaled the breath you held inside of you for a much longer than needed, and looked back at the doe-eye boy who’s looking shocked and pale and looking like he’s trying to absorb everything you just said about him.

After a couple seconds of excruciating silence between him and you, he was the one who broke it.

And with the word’s he said in that moment, to you, didn’t only break the silence but it broke you too. It broke every scenario you predicted inside your brain before confronting him. Because, never in your life you could predict that.

“Y/N…”

He sounded the same while saying your name.

Only you could know it was the last.

“I came to say goodbye.”

for the 4th and the final part, i started to work on it. you’ll be surprised when you finish the series! haha. hopefully i’m planning to finish and upload part 4 in a month, max. 

please give me feedback! i’d love to hear what you thought about the episode.

now for the sorry part, i really am sorry for being this late. i’m 18, and around september i moved into a different city, away from my family to college. so around the first month of college i was trying to settle in, get used to people around me, making friends etc. but around october, i met the jeon jungkook i created in this story. not the exact same obviously but they have indeed so much in common. so now i’m the reader i hated while creating! haha. 

At least the paper thin walls of the Japanese summer vacation home allowed the heat to dissipate through the material, decreasing the temperature of the house by a few degrees. Even still, summers were always the worst. Despite this, your family continued to vacation to Japan each scorching season. They always claimed that a change of scenery was required for the brain to regain clarity. Of course, they were right.

However, a problem arose when it became this hot.

Falling asleep in this incessant heat was nearly impossible.

Even reading wasn’t helping.

Reading has always been the most beneficial tool in attempting to fall asleep ever since you were little. Of course, reading in the daylight wouldn’t cause the same reaction, but either reading or being read to at night has always been the most relaxing. Tonight, however, had become the first night that your usual method had failed. With a huff, you snapped the book shut and allowed it to fall onto the bed with a thump. Your eyes scoured the room for another tactic when you suddenly heard a low, deep voice crooning a familiar melody. You crawled across the bed, closer to the window, closer to the source of that beautiful voice. Placing your hands on the windowsill, you leaned over the edge of your bed, your ears focused on his voice.

“Deeper, deeper, the wound just gets deeper Like pieces of glass that We can’t turn back Deeper, my chest hurts everyday The feeble you, who received Punishment for my crime”

That song, those lyrics.

It’s Taehyung!

He wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.

You’re glad he’s here, but that song…

Where have you heard it?

The lyrics resounded in the caverns of your brain until finally, a memory surfaced, the identity of that song finally being revealed. You fell against the balls of your feet as the recollection consumed all thought, erased the reality of being in the bedroom of your favorite summer home.

It was late summer, early fall. The air began to chill and the leaves started to blend into various shades of red and yellow. Eventually, they would be found beneath someone’s shoe, the snap of their veins echoing in the biting, crisp breeze. Citizens were rarely spotted in the streets. Students’ school uniforms were modified to accommodate the chill. Shops lost business, save for the students that would dart into their stores, seeking shelter, warmth, and always, food. The only people roaming the streets would be those headed to work, school, the hospital, or to the cemetery to mourn the loss of their loved ones. It was there, at the hospital, where Taehyung could be found every day after school. It was one of the few places he would frequent. For him, it was always school, hospital, home, and repeat.

Of course, it wasn’t always this way.

No, not until his grandmother fell ill.

Taehyung became distant, only concerned with buying the prettiest flowers at the nearest florist for his most beloved family member. It was always white lilies. They were her favorite. They were always beside her bed while Taehyung clutched her frail hand, silently praying for her health to replenish. Even in sickness, her humor remained intact. Her jokes would spread a smile on his face, and sometimes, he would even laugh. However, it was always a façade. He was always smiling through the pain for her. Everything was for her.

The forced smiles would continue, until one day, while she was asleep, he was visited by her primary doctor. She had a month remaining to live. That was the day he broke. That was the day the world became grey for him. That was the day he would lose awareness of the things happening around him, even your presence beside him. When you would attempt to speak to him, emotion would be vacant from his eyes. His focus and attention were never on you.

It was always that one spot in the floor that disrupted the pattern in the tile. It was the corner of the room, where his grandmother’s dying lilies sat. It was the red bows adorning your shoes, the diamonds that would decorate them the next day. There were days, however, that he would acknowledge your existence. It wasn’t words of gratitude, though.

No, he lashed out at you. He would scream and holler, demanding to know why you were still with him, why you were visiting his grandmother at all. He wouldn’t wait for your answer. He’d continue, shouting things like “She isn’t even your family,” “You don’t belong here,” and “Just leave me the hell alone!” These outbursts would always end in tears. He’d slowly curl himself into a ball while you consoled him, enveloped him in your embrace until his tears dried. Your own tears would dot his denim jacket, saddened at the sight of your best friend, your first love, in complete and utter agony.

The torment wouldn’t end, though.

Because it wasn’t long until she suddenly passed in her sleep, two weeks later.

That day, he attempted suicide.

On the roof of the hospital, his toes surpassing the edge of the platform as tears freely streamed across his face. You pleaded and pleaded, tears brimming in your eyes, but you bit your cheek. You didn’t want your emotions to affect his decision. It had taken a while before you had finally convinced him to live, for the remainder of his family. His younger sister and brother. It had felt as though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders when he accepted your embrace. That night seemed endless as the two of you talked for hours and hours, about anything and everything. It was a relief to speak with your true best friend for the first time in months. Of course, there was a voice inside your head that told you that it wouldn’t last for long, and it was right, but you were prepared.

A year passed by agonizingly slow, but both of you survived it.

He became himself again. He smiled and laughed, and he made jokes. He even did your hair and makeup for a bet that one of his friends had made. He graduated high school and applied for college. He was actually looking forward to the future he had ahead of him. It was a beautiful experience, watching him fight through the pain and transform into the man he is today. He’s learned how to handle life’s mishaps and that is a lesson that everyone should learn. You’re proud of him, and you’re sure his grandmother is, too.

It was a couple of months after her death that “Stigma” was written.

It was 2 o’clock in the morning. You were hunched over your desk, furiously typing your psychology essay that was due in 6 hours. Your room was actually tidy for once, it always was when you were studying or doing homework. It was the only way you could actually get things done. Your eyes burned from the glare of your laptop in the dimly lit room, your back had started to ache from the arch of your spine. Your fingers and hands began to throb from the speed and duration of your typing. Classical music was quietly reverberating off the walls of your room from your laptop’s speakers, but your ears tuned it out. In fact, you were so engrossed in your essay that at first, you couldn’t even hear the phone ringing.

It took 2 more additional calls until you snapped your attention away to whisk your phone up to your ear, not bothering to check the ID. “Hello?” you impatiently greeted, splitting some of your focus to listen to the caller’s voice. Speaking of their voice, this one was oddly familiar. It was deep, manly, and sent a wave of electricity along your spine. Your scrunched features relaxed when you identified the husky, masculine voice. “Taehyung…” you accidentally whispered under your breath, in an almost seductive tone.

He cleared his throat. “I-um wrote a new song!”

“Really?”

Before you could realize what was happening, his voice changed octaves and he began his song, Stigma. As you attentively listened, tears brimmed in your eyes at the realization of who the song was dedicated to. You bit your cheek to prevent the tears from spilling as your ears focused on his soothing voice. When the last verse was sung, he questioned if you liked it and you exclaimed that you did. It’s not like you were lying. No, you did like it. In fact, you loved it. It was the subject of the song that had you sniffling.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he inquired, concern lacing his voice.

You gave him a weak excuse that night, but he didn’t pressure you for an answer. You bade him farewell, ended the call, and with a sigh, resumed the construction of your essay. Unfortunately, you didn’t finish until 4 o’clock in the morning that day, so you only got 2 hours of sleep, but at least you got it done. The next few months would pass by uneventfully. Other than the flirting you had received from Taehyung every week or so, life was otherwise silent. When college began, your availability diminished and less time was spent with the only man, and love, in your life. You missed him terribly. When you had finished your last class in the spring, you were more than excited for summer break. Finally, you’d be able to see Taehyung again. Finally, you’d have the chance to confess your feelings for him.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until you felt the tears dot your hands folded in your lap. You chuckled at the unexpected onslaught of tears, swiping them away when you started at the sudden ringing of your phone. Rising from your bed, you strode over to your desk to read the caller ID before answering. As your eyes scanned the name across the screen, you took a deep breath, readying yourself for the incoming conversation.

“Hey, why are you crying?” he immediately asked.

You sniffled again. “Ah, it’s nothing. I’m fine… Uh, Taehyung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course. Anything for my woman.”

Ah, you hoped to be soon. “Can you sing me to sleep?” you murmured, your cheeks inflaming at his term of endearment. You’ve loved him for years now. You had planned to tell him last year, on the first day of summer break, on the day you’d arrive at the summer home. However, the timing wasn’t right. His grandmother fell ill that day, and you didn’t want to be insensitive. So, you waited and waited and waited until you believed it was finally time, which you deemed to be this week. Yes, this was the week you would profess your love.

“Of course, but how would you feel if I came over and we… held each other?”

Your face immediately flushed as you stuttered an answer. “O-okay…”

He released a breath of relief. “Perfect. I’ll sneak through the back door alright? You don’t have to meet me there. I’ll come to you,” he explained, finishing the call before you could mutter your confirmation.

Your heart began to beat faster, your limbs trembling with excitement at the idea of Taehyung enveloping you in his embrace. However, when your eyes raked in the havoc that was your room, you were flown into a frenzy. You hurriedly tidied the room, gathering the papers on the desk into a pile and tossing clothes into a hamper. You realigned the books along the walls and adjusted the volume on your laptop. You readjusted the duvet on the bed and fluffed your pillows. Just as you finished and spun around on your heel to wait for him, he was already standing in the doorway. His chest heaved with each breath, as though he ran as fast as he could, even though he was just next door. His famous boxy smile stretched across his cheeks as he admired your appearance. You blushed under his gaze, reciprocating his smile as his breath continued to steady.

With a heavy sigh, he strode to where you stood and encircled his arms around your waist, your entire body crashing into his from the sheer force. You eagerly slid your arms around his neck, burying your nose into his neck and inhaling his scent. At the familiar fragrance invading your senses, your body relaxed into his as memories flashed through your mind like a movie.

Memories of the bonfires in the middle of the night, marshmallows roasting on the fire as you excitedly talked about a new book. The guitar that would accompany his deep, soulful voice later that night. The shouts of a nearby baseball game while you two stood in a classroom, surrounded by the stale scent of chalk. The open window beside you that allowed the wind to carry the faint smell of cherry blossoms into the room. It was there that you and Taehyung would share your first kiss.

He wouldn’t remember it later.

Revelling in his aroma, you took a deep breath before removing your head from his neck to gaze into his eyes. His pupils held an unrecognizable emotion, an emotion that was most likely reflected in your own, that caused exhilaration to alight through your veins. The hairs on the back of your neck stood straight as the familiar knot of desire twisted in your stomach. The darkening of his facial features had your mouth falling open and your breath hitching. An overwhelming urge to attack his lips with your own arose, but you attempted to reign it in.

Before you could process the need surfacing from his expression alone, he crashed his lips onto yours. You gasped in surprise, his strawberry taste mingling with the banana lingering on your lips. Your eyes fluttered close as you reciprocated the kiss, your fingers lacing through his hair. His grip tightened around your waist before he abruptly pulled away, his lips glistening as he breathed heavily. “Ah, sorry about that. That was unexpected, wasn’t it?” he breathlessly murmured.

“No, no, it’s fine…” you whispered, embarrassed at your answer.

Abruptly, he separated himself from your embrace and led you towards the bed. “It’s late, so let’s get you to sleep,” he explained as he laid you both on the bed before tugging you closer and tucking you under his chin. One of his hands brushed his fingers through your hair as his free arm was slung across your waist. His fingers in your hair caused you to relax into his touch as he began to sing a low, soothing melody.

The lyrics were familiar, but you were too tired to even attempt to identify their source. As he continued, what transpired merely moments before became a distant memory. The heat became tolerable from the distraction that was Taehyung’s heavenly voice and caresses. Your eyelids grew heavy, your heart steadying as his voice lulled you to sleep. You inched closer, closing the gap further as the world around you began to fade. You were willingly falling into the clutches of sleep, but before you did, you faintly heard a whisper above you.

“Jesus, Jungkook, why are you causing the earth to shake at this ungodly hour?” Jimin, who had been sitting in his own bedroom playing games, had shouted half-heartedly. He knew that Jungkook was stressed and that usually meant more working out and more temper tantrums.

Jungkook, cheeks flaming, stepped into the doorway of Jimin’s room, “Sorry man, I just got so worked up again.”

“It’s all good,” Jimin smiled, waving Jungkook down next to him, “I told you that you should be taking more breaks, you’ve been trying to write this essay for like 2 hours and 53 minutes, not that I’m timing you, of course”

His roommate’s contagious smile couldn’t help but find it’s way onto Jungkook’s face, “of course”

----

Yoongi honestly wasn’t sure why he was at University for the summer. His parents usually payed for him to head back down to his hometown and hang with family for about two months. However, not even two weeks before the summer started his mom had contacted him and said that they were going on an impromptu trip. Without him. And with all of his friends out of town visiting their own families early, he had no choice, he had to take some classes over the summer. The University didn’t offer any summer housing without taking a required amount of credits so he chose to just work on graduating early next year.

He didn’t want to think about it, going off into the world on his own. He absolutely wanted to prove his parents wrong. To prove them wrong about his career choice. To prove that he could absolutely make it in the music production business. But it was hard, and the stress was honestly starting to get to him.

He was taking three classes all at the senior level, and full of work. Just so much busy work that he had no time to go find someone to go hang out with. There was an essay he was nearly done with for his Music Production class and there was a presentation that was due the following Monday that he had just begun to tackle. And he didn’t even want to think about the test in two weeks on software design. He wasn’t sure why he was taking these classes,  but if they got him to his goal faster he honestly didn’t care.

He slid the top of his computer shut, and put his forehead down on top of it. The cool metal felt so good on his throbbing headache. Break time. He slowly stood up and with him he took the cold cup of coffee that he had neglected to drink. His roommate, Namjoon had prepared the lovely drink about 4 hours previous and Yoongi, so thoughtlessly, had left it on his desk. Patronizing his every move while it just let off all of the hot steam. A nice cup of coffee would have been good, but Namjoon, the master coffee brewer had since retired to bed. Yoongi would just have to live with the reheated cup in his hands.

Sipping slowly, as to not scald his tongue, he wandered over to the window. The seat right next to it allowed for an amazing view of a neighboring dorm. If you stretched your neck far enough you could see the middle of campus off to the right. But only if you were willing to risk a strained neck.

The room was stuffy so Yoongi set his drink carefully on the floor next to the chair and stood so as to open the window. The creak that it made startled him, and as he breathlessly waited to see if he had woken Namjoon up, he heard it. A voice of honey, just faint enough that he couldn’t make out the lyrics. He quickly hoisted the window the rest of the way open and hastily made his way back into the chair with his drink. He scanned the ground outside for some sign of movement. Thoroughly disappointed with the appearance of nobody he tilted his head back up to look at the stars. That was when Yoongi saw him, a dark figure in the window across the way. Barely lit by the glow of a computer. The curtains were drawn and the slight moist breeze that was making it’s way through moved them just slightly. It was just enough though, for him to realize that they were the ones singing.

----

The ringing of the alarm clock served as a jarring reminder of the day ahead. It was an 8:30 lecture which meant that Jungkook had to pull himself out of bed at 7 am just to wake himself up enough. He always had a hard time waking up, but after a cup of coffee and a warm shower he could usually chug on for hours. His roommate, Jimin had already left for the day. His 5 am run was done and Jungkook knew that he was on his way to the dance rooms. That building was literally Jimin’s second home at campus, they were his whole livelihood and Jungkook knew that he would not give up his passion for dancing for a second. And Jungkook would be damned if he was seen out of his bed a second before his alarm went off. He snatched his favorite color-changing iron man mug out from above the stove and set the coffee machine to extra black coffee. He didn’t know why, but he just felt the need to be extra energized this morning.

While the machine was churning away he grabbed his room key and headed to the communal showers. There was nobody there. Not surprising, he thought, there hasn’t been anyone on campus for many weeks. He turned on his shower, set his things on the bench nearby and stepped inside.

He began by humming. Then, because he was alone that humming transformed itself into a full on song, lyrics and all. Jungkook loved to sing, anybody who was close to him could see that, but his passion was sort of set to the side to work on college. Even with a major in singing, there were not many opportunities for him to showcase his talent and that upset him. Even over these first few weeks of summer break his teacher still managed to swamp him work, leaving him no time for himself.

The creak from the door made Jungkook stop immediately. He was never really someone who would sing for somebody one-on-one.

“Nice voice,” the man who walked in said. The compliment made Jungkook’s face flush and his mind to race. He could only wonder about how much they had heard, he sung more than one song and now hoped that he wasn’t disturbing anyone. Instead of replying like a normal human being, Jungkook awkwardly grunted and left that silence to hang in the air.

With his hair rinsed, and ready to leave, Jungkook stood under the water and waited for the other shower to go on. He had already made a fool of himself this morning and was not looking for any confrontation. He really needed his black coffee. He quickly dried himself off and rushed back to his room. He threw on his usual plain t-shirt and sweats, but with time running out and his still-wet hair he ended up choosing a beanie. He threw his coffee into a to-go cup and swung his bag onto his shoulders. It was time for class.

----

Of course the showers in his dorms were broken this morning.

If he had any more bad luck this morning, he said to himself, i might just explode. That morning he had already broken his favorite coffee mug and stubbed his toe on the couch. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about the showers, but luckily he had a friend in the dorm right next to him who could let him in to shower. Mark met Yoongi at the door with a smile and didn’t even question why there was a scowl on his face this early in the morning. Quickly and efficiently Mark described where the less-used showers were and left to head back to his room to study. Yoongi thanked him and headed on his way, mumbling about bad luck and a sore foot.

Right at the door, that’s when he noticed the singing. It was the same from last night, he thought, who is that? He slowly pushed the door open trying not to alert this stranger of his presence but the darn door just had to squeak. The person in the shower stopped singing, and what happened next was very odd, especially for Yoongi.

“Nice voice.”

He cursed himself in his head when a silence followed. What would they say, it was so out of the blue? And as he was setting down his shower supplies, he heard a faint grunt. Was it approval? Or like was this man mad at him for making such a dumb comment? He let it go and turned on his own shower, perhaps he would meet that mysterious voice one day.

----

Jungkook’s to go cup sloshed with the warm liquid as he sprinted down the stair of the dorm. His backpack bounced up and down, the books digging uncomfortably into his shoulder blades. The cool morning air hit his still damp face and he shivered. It was cold. Even for a summer morning this was abnormally cold.

“Damn,” he thought to himself, “Of course I didn’t think to check the weather this morning.”

His race against the clock continued as he raced through the center of campus, he passed the statue of the eagle, which represented the school’s mascot, and ran towards the hall that his class was being held in. He pushed the glass door in and continued to sprint towards his classroom. As he turned the corner, he nearly ran into someone heading the right way. As he willed himself to not run into her he squeezed the paper container, splashing all the way down his shirt. The young girl apologized profusely, but Jungkook wouldn’t accept it, it was his damn fault he was late for class. He glanced at his phone and saw that he still had three minutes to get to class.

“Just enough time to go get some paper towels from the bathroom.”

He rushed up the stairs and into the bathroom down the hall. As he walked in he threw the ruined drink into the trash bin. The shirt that he was wearing was now ruined by the giant coffee stain down the front, but with a little bit of rubbing he would be able to get a duller color. The new stain was just larger than the other ones, the dull yellow stain on his right shoulder from a hot dog mishap and the larger grass stain from an encounter with the ground. He was sure that there were more stains all over this shirt, but with less than a minute until class started he had to hurriedly swipe the paper towels across his torso praying that nobody would notice. He smushed the trash further down with his hand and chucked the paper towels inside.

He had no time to think as he swung the door open and sat down at his usual spot. Three rows back and five seats in. It was far enough back that he could probably get away with a lot but close enough that there were not a lot of distracting computer screens in front of him.

Jungkook was one of only a few students in this class that prefered to take notes by hand. He had learned the hard way in high school that he really only paid attention and retained the information by writing it down. He brought his binder out and was reaching for his pen when the lights dimmed and the professor began his lesson.

This professor was one of Jungkook’s favorites, he usually had sweets for the early morning classes on the weekends and would always anecdote his lessons with personal stories from his past. Every class was different and Jungkook couldn’t help but enjoy it immensely. Another reason that he really enjoyed these classes is that the professor wouldn’t call on anybody who didn’t raise their hand, being as shy as he was Jungkook appreciated it. He could never just put himself in the spotlight like that and risk saying something incorrectly in front of his peers.

Glancing up from his messy notes Jungkook saw the door starting to open. Class had started 20 minutes ago and somebody was just now walking in? Finally, the door slid open the rest of the way and Jungkook could finally see who it was. It was a boy with a plaid shirt and some jeans. With the way that his hair was tousled Jungkook could guess that it was getting windier. This was the boy that walked past Jungkook every class, right before the class started, something in hand and a simple smirk on his face. Jungkook wasn’t sure but he thought the boy was cute. Even now as he got to study him from far away, Jungkook knew that perhaps he harbored some feelings for him. They didn’t even know eachother, what chance did Jungkook have with him. He pushed down his childlike reaction to him and went back to look at the notes he had already written.

“I’m sorry for being late professor, my showers broke this morning so I had to go somewhere else to get ready.” With that Jungkook’s head snapped back up to look at the front of the room. His voice was nice, Jungkook noted, deep but it perfectly suited his body. Jungkook also noticed the pen in his hands that he was twirling. Nobody had ever walked in late to this class before, so he was imagining what was going on inside this stranger’s head. What would the professor say?

“Ah it’s alright Yoongi, those old dorms were never in good shape were they?” The old man chuckled good naturedly. He patted the stranger’s, no Yoongi’s, shoulder and sent him to go sit. Yoongi let out an audible sigh and headed all the way to the back of the lecture hall. Jungkook chided himself for staring and made sure to not turn around for the rest of the class period.

The rest of the class period went off without a hitch. Jungkook had written down a couple questions though and after packing up went to go ask the professor about them. As usual, the man smiled and explained all the questions well, Jungkook wished him a good day and began to leave. As he walked out the door, he couldn’t help but notice Yoongi still making his way down from the back of the hall. Jungkook yet again had to scold himself for staring at Yoongi, but left the room with a smile on his face.

As he exited the building the brisk morning air smacked him in the face, he was now regretting his decision to forgo his sweatshirt this morning. He pulled his headphones out, stuck them in his ears, and turned on some music. And that was going to be his comfort for his walk home.

----

Of course Yoongi had forgotten his room key, he was so worried about meeting Mark and getting showered that he had forgotten it in his room. So here he stood, dressed, yelling up at Namjoon, whose window was closed. Eventually Yoongi’s incessant yelling and pebble throwing got Namjoon’s attention, he threw Yoongi’s card out of the window and told him to leave him alone.

Freezing, but now inside, Yoongi had to trek back into his dorm and grab all of his stuff for school. Looking at his watch he noticed that he was already late for class, so he said to himself, “Fuck it, I’m late already lets just make this last.” He could always find someone from that lesson to get notes from. He got ready a little slower, pulling some warmer socks on, jeans and his favorite combination of a t-shirt and his red flannel. It was a little windy outside so putting on the long sleeves would help combat the cold. He pulled his boots on and grabbed all of his supplies and braced himself for the cold.

He was wrong, it was so much windier than he had expected, the two neighboring dorms must have been sheltering him from what was really happening outside. He just had to grit his teeth and bear it. He crossed the eagle statue and sped up, he was nearly to his building now, but the wind was chilling Yoongi to the bone. The door was his savior, as he slipped past it the chill stopped and he could finally relax. Mostly. He still had to face the wrath of his professor. Just because his wrinkled cheeks and friendly smile might seem nice, there could be a demon hiding under there.

As he walked up the stairs he began to get more and more worried about what the professor would say.

“Min Yoongi,” he scolded himself, “You have never been a wimp, and you are not going to start now.” He marched right up to the door and slowly opened it, hoping to not interrupt too badly. Finally he just gave up and opened the door all the way. He took a couple of steps in letting the old door swing shut behind him.

He looked his professor in the eye and apologized.

“Ah,” Professor began,”Those old dorms were never in good shape were they?” He chuckled and clapped his student on the shoulder. Yoongi let out the breath that he hadn’t realized that he was holding and walked all the way to the back. Where he usually sat.

He pulled out his computer and set himself up for the rest of class. When he looked up, he saw one of the other kids in his class looking at him. The first thing that crossed Yoongi’s mind was, “Damn, that kid’s cute.” He flushed at his thoughts and grabbed his pencil bag too. He wasn’t sure why he did that, probably to busy himself with something else so he didn’t continue to stare that that boy.

“Yoongi you dumbass, you don’t even know that he’s not straight,” He couldn’t help but yell at himself. For the rest of class he couldn’t help but stare at that boy, just a couple of rows in front of him. His large t-shirt hanging off of his frame perfectly, and his hair just barely hidden under that beanie. So many thoughts of that boy raced through Yoongi’s mind. Was he gay? How soft was his hair? It looked soft. Was he muscly? Did he work out? Was he the voice that he kept hearing sing?

The professor dismissed class and as he was packing his things away Yoongi knocked his pencil bag down. That would have been fine if it was zipped up, but it wasn’t. Highlighters, pencils, sharpies, erasers, the whole lot just fell out and Yoongi was the reason why they were now all over the floor. He heard voices talking but thought nothing of it. He was more concerned with finding the three things he was missing. His pencil he found nestled in his open bag, hidden with his notebook. The other two ended up underneath the tables in front of him. He got the first one and after grabbing the other one he went to stand up. He just went for it without looking and smacked his shoulder blade on that table. He winced and stood the rest of the way. Sneaking a glance at the professor he saw the boy from earlier.

“Maybe, just maybe,” He thought to himself, “I can gather enough courage to talk to him.”

He walked back to his things and finished putting his computer away. He swung his bag back around his shoulders and started down the stairs to the door. The mysterious boy had already gone down the stairs, his brisk pace leaving Yoongi in the dust. The door was just swinging shut when Yoongi went to open it once again. He saw the boy walking out the same way he was going so he sped up a little and tried to catch up to him.

Not soon later he saw the boy put some earbuds in and close his arms around himself. There was no way that Yoongi was going to go up to him now, he hated inturrupting people when they were doing something, even something as simple as listening to music.

He was set in his ways until the boy started to sing. His voice was incredible, and it was also the same person as last night, and it was the same person as in the shower. Now Yoongi had to figure out who this boy was, before it was too late and he was too closed off to walk up to him before a class.

“Hey!” Yoongi called out, there was no reply, “Hey!” His second shout was much louder than the first and the boy stopped and turned towards Yoongi.

He pulled his earbuds out and waited for him to say something.

“Uh,” Yoongi was at a loss for words, the boy was even better looking up close, his large eyes and his simple facial features. The scar on his cheek and his nice jawline, they left Yoongi breathless.

“Hi,” The boy began, a smile starting to decorate his face. “You were the one that walked in late today right? Yoongi was it?”

Still wordless Yoongi nodded.

“Ah, well, it’s nice to officially meet you, I’m Jungkook,” He paused for a moment contemplating what to say next, “oh, you stopped me, was there something you needed to tell me?”

Yoongi gulped, and then cleared his throat, “Oh, yes. I just wanted to ask for the notes from the beginning of today’s class, the ones that I missed?”

“Of course, if you’re free you can come over to my dorm and go over them with me. Sadly, until I rewrite them they’re illegible” Jungkook snickered, “and if you want some lunch I’m sure I could scrounge something up.”

At the mention of food Yoongi realized that he had missed his usual bagel for breakfast, he was a lot hungrier than he had originally thought.

“That would be amazing thank you.”

Yoongi was grateful that Jungkook was going to lend him his notes, he hadn’t paid attention at all. He was also happy to get to spend more time with the boy that he had just met. As they continued down the sidewalk, Yoongi appreciated the silence. It wasn’t awkward, it was nice and comforting. His heart was racing, he couldn't tell why. Was he nervous? No, he said to himself, that wasn’t it, he was just tired. The butterflies that he was feeling in his chest must be from exhaustion. Yoongi knew that he hadn’t been sleeping well recently, and that is what he blamed it on.

The blush on his cheeks as they walked side by side was unmistakable, it was there and if Jungkook just turned towards him he would see it. God, what was wrong with him? He had to pull himself together before they walked into Jungkook’s dorm, although he knew that there was no way he would be able to dispel the butterflies fluttering their way through his gut.

He was so stuck in his own mind, that Yoongi was not paying attention to his surroundings. That ended up having him get the toe of his shoe stuck in a crack in the ground, one he knew was there, and had to avoid on a daily basis.

Hand around Yoongi’s arm, Jungkook questioned, “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted.” The chuckle that left his mouth had Yoongi relaxing slightly, a gummy grin decorating it’s way across his face.

“Yeah,it’s just been a long day, and it’s barely even lunch time.”

Another chortle resounded in Jungkook’s chest, “I totally get that, my morning has just been a mess.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure about his feelings, but he could tell, just minutes after really introducing himself to Jungkook, that he felt much more relaxed around him. Maybe, just maybe, Yoongi had a chance.

They soon rounded the corner of the dorms, Yoongi glanced up. There was his window, and directly across from it, was supposedly Jungkook’s room. To his side was Jungkook, eyes turned towards his bag, his hands working furiously to find something. His keycard perhaps. Yoongi couldn’t help but notice the way his hair fell over his eyes, the slight crinkle of focus on his forehead, the little scar on his cheek. He couldn’t tell anyone why he was so focused on the little things, but wasn’t it the little things that mattered? Finally, Jungkook found it, eyes lit up in joy as his fingers clamped around his prize. He pulled it out and Yoongi’s eyes were drawn to the muscle definition of his arms, and the slight protrusion of the veins.

There really was something wrong with him. But, he couldn’t help himself, and he didn’t know why. The door swung open, and not long after that Jungkook and Yoongi were making a trek up the stairs to the room.

“Ah crap,” Jungkook broke the thin silence, “the dorm might not be in the greatest shape, my roommate and I aren’t exactly expecting company.”

Yoongi laughed, “It’s all good, I wasn’t expecting to be someone’s company.” Yoongi never minded a mess, it always made people seem all the more human. A bunch of clean made it feel like there were robots instead of people. He could never stand an obsessive cleaner.

On the third floor they exited the stairwell and walked down the hallway. It was exactly the same as his dorm, and it looked the same as it had this morning when Yoongi had to come take his shower. They walked to the end where Jungkook’s room was, and when the door was unlocked and open Yoongi basked in what he saw. It was perfectly homely. There was not a huge mess, but it was enough to make the place seem lived in. A crumpled blanket thrown over the back of a loveseat, the kitchen had some dishes and some notes scattered on the counter. He couldn’t see the rooms, but he suspected that they were fairly similar.

“Well? Welcome to my home I guess.” A smile was evident in Jungkook’s tone.

“I like it,” Yoongi couldn’t suppress his grin, “It just has a cozy feel.”

“That’s good, this is where I’ve been spending most of my days anyways.” There was a slight pause as Jungkook took off his backpack and set it next to the worn loveseat, “You can take off your shoes and relax if you want. I was planning on studying out here, if that is alright with you.”

“Of course,” Yoongi followed his lead and removed his shoes and swung his backpack off of his shoulders. After setting the bag on the ground and settling into the seat he grabbed his computer. He had to power it back on, and thought he might as well start now. Some days it would take longer to turn on than other days. A new one might be a good idea, but he didn’t have the funds to afford one.

“Tea?” Jungkook questioned from behind Yoongi. He was shuffling around in the cabinets.

“Please,” Yoongi answered, “Black if you have it.”

“If I have it,” a giggle, “Of course I have it. Sugar?”

“Hmm,” there was a pause as Yoongi thought, “two spoons please.”

A hum in answer and then more shuffling. It was so domestic, this scene. It was not every day Yoongi had tea, but he always enjoyed the warm drink.

The computer made a noise as it powered the rest of the way on, pulling Yoongi out of his thoughts. His fingers moved of their own accord as he typed his password. The letters on his keyboard were beginning to fade from use. He had loved this computer well. The only noises that could be heard now was the bubbling of water as it boiled in a kettle, the clicking of the mouse as Yoongi navigated his way to a new Word document, and their breathing. Those were good noises, Yoongi noted. They were quiet, homely, and some of the same noises that he heard daily in his own dorm. His stiff posture on the small couch relaxed as he began to feel better included in this room.

The back of the couch dipped as Jungkook leaned on it. Yoongi jumped. There was no forewarning and he was so entranced in his thoughts, Yoongi hadn’t realized that Jungkook was right behind him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

“Are the notes all you were gonna ask me about? When you were answering me it seemed like you hesitated a little, and it’s been on my mind since we started walking.”

“Oh, uh,” Should he lie? The truth couldn’t hurt could it? Yoongi wasn’t sure what outcome his answer would bring, but his mind was made up and he would say it, screw the consequences, “well I had heard you singing last night, and then again this morning. I didn’t know it was you but when I heard you singing with your headphones in I just wanted to compliment you. But when you asked me, I chickened out and asked for notes. Which isn’t a lie, by the way.”

His cheeks burned. That was a lot of information that he had just divulged, and he wasn’t sure how Jungkook was taking it. He couldn’t see the boy’s face. His heart dropped the longer the silence stretched.

“Y- you like my singing?” Jungkook sounded flabbergasted, “wait, were you the person this morning in the shower?”

The butterflies, which had all but disappeared had made yet another appearance.

“I do, and yes that was me, I do real-”

Jungkook cut him off, “Yoongi, you have just made the rest of my day. I don’t care how awkward you think you are, you have literally just made this the best day.”

Yoongi turned his head towards Jungkook’s. There was a moment of surprise as he recognized the closeness of the boy’s face to his. Jungkook had the best smile painted on his face.

This is what Yoongi wanted imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. This young kid, one who he didn’t really know, but really liked, with the most amazing smile on his face. His eyes shined with the entire universe, like there was nothing that could stop him now.

From that moment, everything went in slow motion. Jungkook’s eyelashes flittered down towards his cheeks and when his eyes opened again they were looking straight at Yoongi. Their eyes locked and Yoongi did the only thing that he could think of. The close proximity and Yoongi’s attraction, that led him to kissing Jungkook. Nothing big, just a simple peck.

They separated, Yoongi’s heart was beating so fast, like the flapping of a Hummingbird’s wings. He was sure that his cheeks were a flaming red, but he couldn’t tell. Jungkook on the other hand, was now grinning again, cheeks pulled tight, he just seemed so excited. Like a little kid on Christmas morning.

“I would love to do that again Yoongi, but the tea is ready and I was really looking forward to it.” Jungkook stood up straight and headed back to where the two cups were sitting on the counter. Yoongi was still in shock, was this a dream? He certainly hoped not, and as Jungkook set the mugs on the table, an Avengers one for himself, and a simple black and white striped one for Yoongi, he knew that he would never have been able to dream that.

He blinked multiple times as Jungkook waved his hand in front of his eyes.

“Gosh Yoongi, are you in there,” a cackle rattled through Jungkook as he kept talking, “Y-you’re just-t sitting there with-with such a blank look on your face.” His shoulders shook as he threw himself forward. Yoongi refocused, and saw that Jungkook had already finished half of his tea and was prepared to rewrite his notes.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Yoongi woke his computer back up and they began to go over that classes notes.

One cup of tea, and four typed pages later they were done. Yoongi had snapped out of it enough to really enjoy his time with Jungkook and was even able to crack a few jokes of his own.

“Hey Jungkook,” Yoongi said, smile still painted across his face from their great time, “wanna get out of here for a little bit?”

“Sure,” Jungkook turned to him, a curious expression written all over his face,”like what?”

“Ice cream? It would be my treat.”

“Your treat? You mean like a date?”

Yoongi snickered, “If that’s what you want it to be, then yes, like a date.”

“I would love that. A date it is.” They both stood up, Yoongi stretched his arms above his head and grabbed his shoes. Jungkook grabbed a sweatshirt and slipped it over his head, lesson learned from earlier, and handed one to Yoongi. Yoongi was greatful for that, he was not ready to head back out.

As they were walking out the doors of the dorm building, Yoongi had one request.