#coldxperience

Your hair fell perfectly just below your shoulders, curled inwardly at its ends to frame your face. Your body was clothed with a simple white bandeau top with lace detailing along its hem, washed denim jeans which clung to your legs and widened slightly at your calves and short beige heels. Your area of contention fell with your bag — a beige leather saddle bag with a chocolate handle and gold detailing. Like a woman demented, you held the bag up to your eye in the mirror and stared intensely. Your makeup was simple and understated, little to medium coverage, lashes coated with dark mascara, deep brown eyelids which blended into caramel and a light dusting of highlighter for a sparkle which was only caught momentarily under certain light angles. Your lip of choice was even further understated; opting for a very sheer pink lipgloss to coat them as a finishing touch. On any other day, this wasn’t even something you’d offer a second glance.

However, a date with Jeon Jungkook required a little more of your attention than normal.

You had been BTS’ makeup artist for years, working under HYBE. You were exceptional at your job, able to touch up a member in six minutes flat. Jungkook managed to stretch his specific slot to a solid ten, between his fidgeting, him cracking jokes which adequately distracted you and making blending products an uphill battle. Truly, he should’ve been close to being considered a nuisance for it, especially in the beginning when you kindly attempted to redirect him into focusing for those few minutes, but there was something about his distractions that you found wholly endearing. A few years into working with them and it was commonplace to let your guard down around him, similarly throwing jokes his way. You had banter with the other members, of course, but they seemed to have a knack for remaining on the status quo simultaneously. You were unsure if it was a skill Jungkook had failed to master or he just didn’t bother with it, but the moments the two of you shared with a lingered gaze or a touch that remained a second too long informed you that it was most likely the latter. Those moments with him were treasured more than you realised, as you looked forward to those few minutes in your hectic days.

However, apparently you failed to treasure them sufficiently as you were reassigned to ENHYPEN shortly after the BTS members gradually trickled into military service. The news came as an unpleasant surprise to you; ENHYPEN were sweethearts on the occasions that you had bumped into them previously, but it felt like a fall from grace. Not only were you losing the group you had closely worked with for years, but more importantly Jungkook was leaving. It wasn’t like you hadn’t already played the scenario over and over in your head, however you couldn’t have prepared yourself for just how emotional it felt. If Jungkook was upset he failed to show it; his simple “we’ll meet again :)” message prior to enlistment informed you of such. It shockingly took you a while to truly come to terms with the news, but what with getting into the swing of forming a new professional relationship with ENHYPEN and supporting their activities, leaving BTS soon didn’t carry such a heavy sting to your heart. The thought went from lingering to fleeting on the most random of days.

It was an unassuming Wednesday morning on your off day when you saw the headline; ‘BTS’ Jimin, Jungkook released from military service’. You had a rough idea as to when he was due to be discharged, but not down to the exact date: it was no wonder how you managed to choke on your coffee as soon as the headline drop down in your notification center. Pictures of him flooded the internet; clothed in classic military camouflage and cradling a white colored bouquet of flowers in hand with Jimin in tow similarly nursing a pink bundle. They somehow appeared more stoic yet still maintained their charming nature from the stills you had come across. It suddenly seemed like the BTS you knew too well was suddenly so far out of reach, their military service placing barriers of knowingness between you and them. You made a habit of texting your well wishes to the guys as they trickled out of their enlistments one by one, but you took an embarrassingly long time to text Jungkook. You entered and erased the words too many times to count, overthought possible greetings to the point of near mania. As fate would have it, however, a text that popped up on your screen on a random evening eradicated your irrational fear almost instantly, from Jungkook: “this is random, but do you want to hang out at mine sometime?”

Now, you weren’t crazy — through further back and forth chats, Jungkook confirmed that it was a date he intended on taking you on; you wouldn’t have induced this close call of a crazy episode over mere delusion. You were a little more sensible than that (at least, you’d like to think so), thankfully. The soft glow of your phone screen coming to life was what drew your attention from the corner of your eye and allowed you to finally set your tortured bag down on your lap. Placing your thumb and pointer finger on either side of the screen, you tilted the screen towards your face to see a text message notification from the driver, notifying you of his presence. It would be easy to give him cookie points for being such a gentleman for sending a driver for you, but in reality it was the norm for an idol with the amount of popularity that Jungkook held – a regular taxi was a rumor waiting to happen and your own car was out of the question. With a small huff, you placed your makeup brush down in your vanity and offered your body another lucky few sprits of perfume, before making your way out of your place.

In the nick of time, you were before his apartment door. Wet spots adorned the bottom of your jeans where the evening rain had intruded, but luckily you were largely unscathed due to the driver’s stashed umbrella. On bated breath, you raised a finger to press against the doorbell, hearing the familiar jingle echo within its walls. The thirty or so seconds that followed stretched longer than what you would seem necessary, your heart pounding in your throat as you fumbled with the few bracelets hanging off your wrists. Soon, though, a few clicks of the lock turning was heard and suddenly you stood up straight.

There he was; hair recently messed with, a dark smart shirt rolled up haphazardly around the sleeves to reveal the roll of the inked artwork which blend onto his hands (which were notably wet) and dark color slacks his outfit was partially covered by a black and white striped apron hanging on his waist. As you bowed slightly to greet him, his mouth spread into a welcoming smile. “Ah, I’d give you a hug but my hands are all…” he gestured to the water dripping from his digits. “Don’t worry, I’m not holding a hug against you,” you quipped, a small giggle hiding behind your words. He too mirrored your small laugh, opening the door wider and stepping aside to allow space for you to step in. As you do, you expected him to return to whatever he was busying himself with in the kitchen, but he seemingly watched you as you slid out of your heels and into a pair of house slippers at the door. “Are you gonna keep watching me like one of your stalkers?” you spoke as you stepped onto the floorboards of his apartment. Unlike what you were expecting, he seemed bashful at the mention of him watching your move. He let out a cough into his fist and redirected his gaze to the floor briefly as if it was the most interesting view in the world. “N-No, it’s just- been a long time and - ahem - you look so pretty so,” he uttered softly. It was worlds apart from the mischievous, quick young man that you once knew. When did he become so bashful? Was it the new environment or did your worst nightmare come true — the military did change Jungkook as you knew him?

The latter choice may have been a slight overreaction on your end, admittedly.

Only a mere 30 minutes later, you were seated at his small dining table weaving pasta strands between the metal prongs of your fork while he told tales of his days in military. On both of your plates was truffle cream pasta with steak and asparagus on the side. Having heard all the members enthuse about his culinary expertise for years, it felt like a full circle moment to finally have the chance to taste his cooking after years of repeated promises — and it didn’t disappoint either. “I don’t think I want to peel another carrot or potato for years now, they must’ve been punishing me for a past life sin,” Jungkook muttered, feigning disgust. His complaint made you laugh, while also sympathising. It was enough of a chore to peel vegetables for personal use, but for military soldiers was a different ball game entirely. “How many do you think you peeled while you were there? Ballpark figure,” you queried as you speared a piece a steak on your fork. His eyebrow piercing glinted under the spotlights in the kitchen as he thought, then turned his face towards his phone which laid by his side on the table. “Hey Siri, how many carrots and potatoes does any one person peel in their lifetime?” he suddenly spoke, face etched as stone as if it was the most serious conversation he had ever held in his life. As if Siri was as similarly puzzled as you at the question, it took her longer than usual to respond. “Over an average lifetime, a person consumes roughly 10,800 carrots and eats approximately 15,000 to 16,000 potatoes,” the virtual assistant chirped out steadily. “Easily twice that amount,” Jungkook responded without missing a beat. With the exaggerated number and his deadpan nature, you laughed heartily at his response.

“‘Kook, you cannot be serious,” you spoke in the midst of giggles, almost choking on what remained of your food. His expression was what you could only describe as incredulous, although you knew from prior years of banter, it was all in jest. “I swear to whatever deity I can swear to, I started seeing them in my dreams.” He pointed to his temple in emphasis, as if it were possible to see the unassuming vegetables wreck havoc buried within the wrinkles of his brain if you concentrated enough. Shaking your head in disbelief at the sheer drama of it all, you gripped both empty plates before you and stood to your feet to wash the dishes. However, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist stopped you in your tracks. “Don’t,” Jungkook instructed gently, similarly raising to his feet. Between his gentle yet grounding grip and you suddenly looking up to meet his gaze, your mouth suddenly went dry. Your head scrambled to simply agree to his request, when he seemingly came to realise what had happened. He chuckled to alleviate what tension had suddenly mounted between the two of you, but anyone could objectively see that he had broken the proverbial touch barrier — a fact that you weren’t opposed to. “I invited you, you shouldn’t do anything. Just relax,” the young man urged, his facial expression remaining soft and pliable. With a grin you never were able to resist, the hand holding your wrist instead patted the back of your hand. Flustered from the sudden contact, you slowly sink back down into your seat with a shy smile, letting go of the dirtied plates and cutlery. As soon as you relinquished control, Jungkook stacked the porcelain bowls and metal cutlery before carrying them to the sink.

In the few minutes that were consumed with the young man scrubbing their shared dishes, there was a silence — a comforting one. It was the type of silence that could only be appreciated and held by those who already tasted shared companionship, one that could only be desirable by those who knew each other well enough to savor each other’s presence with no words spoken. Bringing your chilled wine glass to your lips, your fingers lightly jabbed your phone screen as you made quick work of scrolling through Instagram stories; not exactly absorbing anything, but just busying your mind and fingers with a familiar task. In between stories, an advert popped up. It was for a nondescript brand of mango ice cream, but the familiar jingle had both you and Jungkook start singing along at the same time without really thinking. However, after a few bars, the penny seemed to drop at the same time as the two of you met each other’s eyes grinning from ear to ear. Only a few years prior, you two were tormented by the same song for a whole summer of promotions, hearing it on any device in your vicinity at any given moment. In that moment in Jungkook’s apartment, it favored more closely to a long lost melody heard so many lifetimes ago.

“No way!” Jungkook exclaimed, boyish charm shining through. You threw your head back and laughed at the distant memory of heavy rye bags further ladened by its ever chirpy tune, how everyone within earshot of the commercial was willing to commit property damage in order to make it cease. “Oh my God, I feel myself losing my mind all over again,” you groaned, scrunching your hair into your fists as a demonstration of near insanity. Your date continually chuckled as he set the dripping porcelain aside and haphazardly dried his hands on his apron which he quickly untied and hung over the edge of the kitchen counter. “Please wait before you lose your mind, I have an idea,” he chortled, setting off in a slow jog towards the other end of his apartment. Naturally, you raised your body from the confines of his dining table chair and gravitated towards his couch which sat a short distance from the kitchen.

It wasn’t long until you heard the subtle thuds of his steps approach closer and he rounded the corner with two play-microphones in hand, also equipped with possibly the widest grin you had ever seen. “Jungkook, what the hell is this?” you directed, tossing your eyes over the plastic microphones while holding back another fit of laughter. “Karaoke, duh!” he answered giddily, as if there wasn’t a thing in the world that could possibly break his stride at that moment in time. In sheer disbelief, you watched him as he plucked a small remote from a rectangular coffee table at your feet and navigated to YouTube, still muttering the melody under his breath while offering a small jig to the melody his voice provided. You couldn’t quite believe that he was able to spin an activity that quickly on the spot, but you were far from complaining when you were that tickled. “Cover your eyes,” he demanded, threateningly pointing a plastic pink microphone in your direction. Without protest, you threw your hands up in surrender before placing them over your closed eyes. You felt a few sharp tufts of air hit the back of your hands, and you couldn’t help but sigh. “My eyes are closed, stop testing me.” The pause in his shuffling informed you that you were right in your assumption that he was, in fact, shadow boxing, before he could even confirm it from his own mouth. “I was just making sure…” he finally confessed, his voice adjacent to the whine of a child that had been scolded (though he remained equally as jovial as before). After some moments, a familiar instrumental blared through his speakers. It was unmistakable; My Ear’s Candy by Baek Jiyoung and Ok Taecyeon. An iconic anthem that only the foolish ones of the K-Pop industry would fail to mention.

“Introducing, the iconic duo back again for one night only!” Jungkook announced it with great theatrics. It was then that you dropped your hands to see him holding one of the microphones towards you (now, less threatening). Notably, the handheld portion of the mic now held an impish colorful glow. Shaking your head but grinning all the same, you wrapped your fingers delicately around the prop as you similarly stood to your feet and assumed your position. You didn’t exactly remember much of the choreography, not much more than the regular person, but following Jungkook’s lead ensured a more than satisfactory performance for the proverbial audience. Your voice was also not the cause of applause in normal everyday life; this performance was no different. However, with the way Jungkook put in extra effort to appear impressed, you could have been fooled. In any case, it was encouraging. You could almost hear the roaring of fans when the two of you replicated the song’s iconic move; your back pressed flush against his chest, his grip firm on your waist as the two of you moved your hips together, even going as far as holding the microphone up to his mouth when it was his turn to replicate his lines. Every time the two of you shared skinship, you two were unabashedly shy, Jungkook’s ears dusted a clear shade of pink and your face growing warm under your foundation. Still, you two were clearly committed to a stellar performance and nothing less. Judging from the imaginary crowd’s reaction, you two did just that.

“You really killed that, I think you should be an idol,” Jungkook spoke pointedly as he sank down on the couch behind you. While he was only slightly breathless, you were contrarily a few short steps away from wheezing. You plopped your breathless figure down beside him, taking a long minute to simply catch your breath before you spoke. “You see how long it’s taking me to recover? I don’t think so,” you responded with a grimace as if to be appalled by your own actions. He simply shrugged as he navigated to the search bar to look for another song. “That can easily be worked on.” At his words, you simply blinked and regarded him with a deadpan expression. You simply couldn’t resist the temptation. “You want me to work on… my stamina?” you drawled slowly. He finally broke his attention from the TV to furrow his eyebrows and turn to you, almost bewildered at how slowly you were speaking as if to not understand the point you were trying to make, but you could visibly see when the penny dropped in his brain. The small smile playing on his lips dropped almost instantaneously and the heat rose in his face like he was a boiling kettle. “I didn’t mean it like that- I just meant you could work out- Please don’t do this to me,” he whined pathetically as his hands shot up to cover his face in sheer humiliation. You, on the other hand, were just short of crying from laughter.

Then ensued the legendary concert performed by the two of you in the most confused discography known to man. You were serenaded to Paul Kim and Charlie Puth, you performed SZA and some of Jungkook’s solo work, the two of you did your best rendition of Megan Thee Stallion’s most popular songs along with Super Junior’s. By the end of it all, you weren’t even sure what the target audience would be and if the hypothetical arena would still have attendees by the second song. The skinship never ceased; him taking his hand into yours when singing a particularly heartfelt lyric, you pulling him up to dance with you while you gave your all in front of the TV. Despite everything you shared over the course of the evening, you two never failed to show signs of timidity after every touch. It was uncharted territory, understandably, and the two of you were doing your level best to navigate it to the best of your ability. You’d like to think you were doing an okay job.

As the evening grew around you, so did the comfortability. It had ended in you sitting on the couch. legs crossed, and a Jungkook laying his head on your thigh, lazily singing along to a long forgotten ballad you could not recall the name of. Jungkook had been putting in some level of effort into his dancing and singing all evening, but with that particular song it was not unlike an actual performance. You were well and truly serenaded, if it could not be shown by how shy you were of meeting his gaze. You simply followed the lyrics on the screen while swaying slightly to the guitar’s chords. Jungkook, on the other hand, remained staring straight up at you. He was admiring every single little detail about you, the ones you took in every day and the others you usually forgot about. It was so easy to do, given that you weren’t looking at him. He was truly smitten. “You… you look so pretty,” he suddenly spoke in the middle of verses. His words quickly snapped your concentration in half, you slowly moving down to meet his gaze. There he was; eyes half lidded, microphone still posed at his chin, cheeks flooded with rouge yet eyes steadily on yours. You gulped, trying to find words to say, but he quickly cut you off. “I’ve had a really nice night and I want to do this again before we start recording again,” He murmured. “I’m not sure how we can make it work, but… I just needed you to know and I hope you feel the same way.”

You were rendered speechless, unable to communicate all the racing thoughts through your head. However, you understood that sitting there with unspoken words wasn’t fair for Jungkook who had spilled his guts to you. “I, uh…” you began, gulping down to lubricate your suddenly dry throat. “I really like you- like this, and I’d love to do it again,” you spoke lowly, face growing warm once again at the Freudian slip from your lips. Of course you liked him, but it was much too early to let him know — wasn’t it? You eyed briefly flicked up to the TV that still incessantly displayed words, and a small smile spread across your lips. “You know, the fans are gonna cancel us over this,” you giggled softly. After all, the two of you had failed to exit stage left prior to this vulnerable exchange; you were pouring your hearts out to each other with no regard for the poor ‘fans’ in attendance. However, Jungkook was too preoccupied by your previous confession, holding onto your mistake in speech a little longer than you would’ve liked.

“I like you too.” His voice was barely above a whisper, thoughtful and quiet. You fell speechless once again as his tattooed hand raised to cup your cheek. “If we’re gonna get canceled, let’s give them something to cancel us for,” his voice mumbled. Stroking his thumb over your cheek, he leaned slightly upwards while pulling you down. Your lips met slowly, passionately and unhurried. Your heart leapt in your chest, heat raising in your ears as your hand moved to rake through his hair. It was the simplest kiss you had ever shared with another person, a prolonged peck, but it held all the weight of a heated makeout. It wasn’t necessary; it was an unspoken statement of your feelings towards one another. There was no amount of heavy petting or breathless kisses required to communicate it. You broke it soon enough, but not without leaning down quickly to steal another peck from his lips without his immediate knowledge. You leaned back against the backrest of the couch with the widest smile on your mouth, yet your hand remained in his hair, idly drawing shapes into his scalp with the tip of your fingernail. Jungkook’s hand dropped from your face as soon as you leaned away, but still kept his eyes trained on you. He had a grin on his face, but it was worlds apart from the other smiles he had offered you; this one carried unadulterated relief. You couldn’t be happier, and you were sure that he felt the same. He cleared his throat and fumbled around his body for the remote. “We should probably round this concert up before they throw more tomatoes,” he joked. That coaxed a small laugh from you.

“Is anyone still in the audience?”