#foxmail

You are still not used to it.

The weight of his arm that rests on your waist, the breath that tickles your nape and the warmth that radiates off his body. It’s still all so foreign, such an alien feeling, but it also calls to you like a place called home. You are aware it is only a question of time before this is something you can no longer fall asleep without - maybe even live without. But right now, it is still all too new.

As if he can sense your inner monologue, his grip tightens on your, pulling your closer until you are flush against his chest and you feel his lips make contact with your shoulder blade as he places a wet butterfly kiss there. “Still awake?”

His voice is nothing more but a murmur, soft and hazy with sleep. It sends the butterflies that live in your stomach into a frenzy as it sounds out so close to your ear. You are very much aware that it is something only you can hear. There is no one else that gets to have his with slumber drunk voice whisper in their ear, there is no one else that gets to feel his body wrapped around theirs. The thought makes your heart skip a beat.

“Mhm, can’t fall asleep.”

You turn around to face him, only to see his lashes flutter over the top of his cheekbones, barely visible in the dim moonlight. His lips are pouted, and slightly parted as he exhales another breath, clearly only on the edge of being awake himself. You cannot help yourself but reach upwards, to stretch your chin forward and put your lips on his for just a split second. Out of reflex the corners of his mouth lifted up, forming a small smile as his arms slipped from your waist for his hand to come to rest on your shoulder blade and pull him closer to you. “Try to sleep, baby.”

He rolled over on his back, taking you with him, his arm never leaving your shoulder so could make sure you are resting on his chest. Only then his hand drops further down to the small of your back, absentmindedly rubbing small circles that draw a sigh from your lips. “Jeongguk?”

“Hm?”

Your stance isn’t as straight as it should be, lethargy letting your shoulders drop forward and your back hunch, even as the heavy backpack should technically straighten you out again. In the crook of your elbow hangs a tote bag filled with god-knows-what and your other arm is clutching a couple of textbooks to your chest. There is so much weight on you right now, it’s not just the physical one of your baggage, but also the remainder of the long day you had, too many classes leaving you with a fuzzy head and desire to nap.

So you don’t notice the figure jogging up next to you until he has already stolen your books as well as the bag, letting you let out a noise of compliment. “Stop that. I can carry my stuff myself.”

“Hello to you, too,” Yoongi replies, maneuvering your stuff all over to his left side so his right hand is free to link his fingers with yours, even going so far off pulling your hand up to place a light kiss on top of it. “How was your day?”

“Tiring. Now give me back my stuff.”

“Nope, I’ll be carrying for the rest of the day. You look shitty enough, no need to torture you further with all of this heavy stuff.” He just laughs at your attempted jab to his side, tightening the grip on the books as he looks down on you.

“It’s not heavy,” you mutter, shaking some strand of hair out of your eyes as you narrow them at him. “I am stronger than I look. Are you calling me weak right now?”

His eyes widen in feigned innocence and shock as his tongue peaks out of the corner of his mouth in a playful fashion, making your lips split into a grin of their own. “I would never dare to, miss.”

You snort at his ridiculousness, and he takes it as a sign of your mood having lightened. Starting to swing your linked hands, he hums a song out of tune as he walks you home, your steps in synch.

“You know, you really don’t need to carry my things for me. I’m a big girl, Yoongi.”

“I am very aware, trust me,” he replies as he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. “Just let me be a good boyfriend for once, okay?”

“Erm, babe? What’s your shoe size again?”

Seokjins voice sounds out of the living room where he is perched on the cream colored couch, a laptop sitting on his thighs. Your back is turned towards him as you stand in the kitchen, focus in front of you as you cut up some fresh fruit. “You don’t know? Also, why do you need to know?”

He doesn’t respond right away, a silence lingering in the air that is only disturbed by the noise of your knife meeting the cutting board as you half some strawberries, occasionally popping one in your mouth.

“Not important. Just tell me, please.”

You only send him a quick glance over your shoulder, curious as to what he is up to before you turn back, this time attacking a mango as slice of the sides and start cutting the soft flesh into cubes, throwing them in a big bowl afterwards. “I am not telling you until you say what you are doing.”

You can hear him stand up and trot over, and before you know it, you can feel him behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. Out of instinct you take one of the mango cubes and hold it up against his lips. He quickly eats it and presses a kiss onto your cheeks before turning to the side and getting himself a glass of water.

“I’m not doing anything,” Seokjin mumbles. He leans on the counter, standing right next to you, and watches you work, but as you don’t reply right away he steals one of the strawberries and goes back into the living room, curling up on the couch again.

“Then why do you need to know my shoe size?”

“It’s nothing, really,” he responds but you can tell there is some hesitation in his voice. “I was just… thinking about you.”

“About my feet?” You giggle, having finished cutting up all the fruit. You take the bowl along with two toothpicks over to him, plopping down next to him on the couch.

He immediately turns away from you, as if trying to shield the page open on his laptop from you viewing it, closing the window as well, but it’s already too late. You saw the familiar logo of the online shop and the huge section of shoes he was browsing and it makes you giggle. “Are you trying to buy me a new pair of shoes?”

“No…” You fixate him with a stern glance as he shifts his eyes before his lips split into a sheepish grin. “Okay, yes, fine. I wanted to buy you a pair of shoes like the one you were talking about yesterday as a surprise.”

“Then why did you ask for my shoe size? Way to make it obvious.”

He lets out a frustrated whine, puffing out his cheeks. “Well, I didn’t know which size to order!”

“So you ask me? You could have just secretly checked the shoes I own.”

Sending you a wide eyes look, he just stays silent before tugging at his hair and falling forward to hide his face as you shake with laughter. “I am an idiot, aren’t I?”

The white glowing number silently changes into the next, the seconds ticking by, only to turn into minutes that feel endless to you. With the late hour showing on the display of the digital clock on your bedside table, your heart just feels heavy. You should be sleeping. You should get a good rest. Tomorrow is another day full of school, and work, a full schedule. Go to bed.

But sleep is not a possibility, not with the tears streaming down your cheeks, hot and thick, they do not feel real, but rather they are akin that gooey consistency of water in Studio Ghibli movies. They are drowning you, but they aren’t stopping as your mind goes around in circles, closing in on the same thoughts of failure, disappointment and just not being enough.

You know, there is a easy way to put a stop to this vicious circle, a certain person that can makes all things stop and kiss away the tear drops stuck in your lashes. But it’s three am, and you do not want to bother him this late, he should be asleep as much as you should.

Yet, it’s tempting, his comfort and love much needed. Hesitantly you spin the phone in your hand as the other presses with it’s palm against your eyes. It takes another sob to rattle your body for you to make a decision.

You, 3:14amJimin?

You, 3:14amare you still up?

You, 3:15ami need someone to talk to

You, 3:15ami hope you are sleeping tho

You are aware you are sending more texts than necessary, spamming him in a selfish hope of waking him up in case he is asleep already, and it makes you feel bad, but you cannot help it.

Jimin, 3:16ambaby, what’s wrong???

It’s a relief to see his name pop up on your display, but now there is guilt washing over you. You are making him worry, when really, this is something you should be able to handle by yourself. Unsure how to respond now that you got his attention on you, you keep typing and deleting your words, your thoughts too jumbled up, and it seems like you have hesitated too long, as now the screen is taken up my a picture of his face and his caller ID.

“Y/N, talk to me.” You can make out the worry in his voice, even if he says it in a stern tone.

“I- It’s just-” Trailing off, you take a shaky breath before trying to talk again. “I don’t know, I just feel shit?”

There is a crackling noise in the background, a rustling as if he was moving around before his voice sounds out again, this time concern clear in it and you are aware it’s because he can hear that you have been crying. “I’m coming over.”

“N-No! Don’t! You really don’t need to, I’m fine!”

“Pleeeeeeaaaase?”

Namjoon only sighs at your whining, like he isn’t used to it already. Like he didn’t saw it coming, but in the early morning haze, his mind wasn’t clear enough to think it through. “You could have just gotten your own.”

He doesn’t need to look over at you to know you are pouting, somewhere underneath his huge hoodie that swallows you whole and hides your face. Your sweater clad hands swat at his side lightly as you let out another whine. “I forgot, okay? I was too sleepy.”

“Well, tough luck,” he half laughs, half murmurs as he looks over his shoulder, pulling in the other lane and accelerates, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music blaring throughout the car.

“Just a sip?”

“Oh, fuck off.” This time he straight up laughs. It really is your own fault for not getting a coffee, well, technically it’s both of yours, having slightly overslept so that there wasn’t a time for a breakfast before leaving for your road trip. But Namjoon still made a quick stop at the nearest coffee shop, getting himself a large americano, black and bitter enough to wake him up, and while he was kind enough to ask if you wanted anything as well, you only curled up in your seat, leaning against the window and muttered at him to let you sleep in peace.

So now here you are, roughly twenty minutes later, somewhat more awake, craving some caffeine to fully pull you out of your slumber. And his own drink still half full right in front of you in such a taunting way.

“Don’t be mean!”

“If you want a coffee so badly, we can stop at the next gas station and get you one,” he responds, choking down a laugh as he knows your resentment of cheap, stale coffee all too well.

“Yikes.” You crinkle your nose and shake your head in disgust, absolutely offended by his suggestion. “Do you enjoy torturing me like this?”

“I do very much.”

You just huff at him, although there is no bad blood in your interaction, all the teasing is just in good fun. Crossing your arms you lean back in your seat, draping your only sock clad feet on the dashboard as you stare at him. “Fine. No coffee for me then.”

There is a short lull in your conversation in which he concentrates on the traffic, while you look out of the window where the scenery is flying by, lightly humming along to the music. The sun is starting to rise higher on the sky, so you reach back to get your bag, getting out your sunglasses along with Namjoons, knowing he will soon be blinded while driving. You hand them to him without a word and he places them on top of his head.

“Go drink my coffee if you want to. You can have half.” He breaks the silence, quickly glancing over to tug at your ear in a playful way. “I had enough caffeine to not crash this car for now, so go ahead.”

“Thank you!”

You immediately reach forward, grabbing the cup to take a huge sip before regretting it right away as the dark drink as long grown cold and gotten all the more bitter. Your face scrunches up into a grimace as you place the coffee back down, glancing to the side to see Namjoon stifle his laughter. “Did you give it to me only because it has grown cold?”

“…, maybe.”