Libby Towns

With 98 percent of his cases won so far, top-tier attorney Jungkook was ranked first in his agency.

Of course you worked at the agency your father ran, out of nepotism, but who could blame you? Not to toot your own horn, but you were now pursuing a legal education and were really darn good at it.

You quickly peek at your incredibly expensive watch as you enter the large office building and click elevator button number 30. Nice, you arrived at the scheduled time of 4 p.m. Higher ups greeted you with a smile as you left the elevator, and you graciously reciprocated.

Since your father had mentioned that he needed your assistance, particularly today, you immediately went to his office.

Of course, you couldn't refuse the chance to see his work, yet you didn't anticipate Mr. Jeon to welcome you with a cold glare and a cursory nod while seated next to your father on the large black leather sofa.

Your father motioned to the sofa across from him and said, "Sit down, child," while sipping his coffee. "How are you doing, sweetheart?" Crossing his legs, he asked in an unassuming manner. "Good up until now, what's up?" you shrug, looking shamelessly at Jeon Jungkook, you inquire with a frown. Though you sincerely admired him, it was unsettling to be in the same room with him despite your admiration for him.

His marriage, wealth, and ideal career made him the epitome of perfection. Of course, you too shared in the admiration for Jeon Jungkook. That explains why you were feeling so anxious right then.

Because he believed I would be the greatest person to teach you the skills of a successful lawyer, your father made you work with Mr. Jeon for the following week.

"You need to wear more conservative clothing around here" Jungkook sternly told you, as he sat down in his pricey leather chair in his office and crossed his arms while looking you up and down. "This is no club," he said.

After a gasp, you turn to face the ground. Why was your present attire flawed? Just a shirt and a blouse that barely covered your chest were all you were wearing. He said to you jokingly as he began writing things down on a piece of paper, "You don't need the judges to think you're a common ignorant whore while you're in court." By nodding, you approach him and ask, "Mr. Jeon, what can I do for you for the upcoming week?" You inquire with curiosity, eager to discover more about the legal profession.

Your smile vanished though when he turned to face you. "You can start by printing 100 copies of this; I need them by 4.30 p.m.," you're startled and look at your watch, "but it's already 4.20,"

With one last look at you before returning to his job, he nods and says, "Exactly, so get going."

It was unoccupied in the copy room, so you could make the copies sooner than you anticipated.

At 4.30 p.m. precisely, you return and smugly set the papers on his desk as you enter his office. Jungkook gives you an unimpressed look "what? Want a reward for following my instructions?" He continued typing on his PC while rolling his eyes. "How do you feel about me, Mr. Jeon?" You sulk a little bit since you're still not sure how to approach superiors. "Aside from my intense desire to fuck you silly on this desk, I have nothing against you."

-

The hand you’ve pressed over your mouth pushes you backward until your spine collides with the closet’s wall. Quickly, you move your shoulders to the side, angling your body out of Jeongguk’s field of view, and hope that your dark clothing is enough to mask your presence inside the tight space.

With your free hand, you dig into the bottom pocket of your cargos. Your fingers claw at the cotton opening in search of metal. They wrap around the cold drive and you silently thank yourself.

“Soo, wait,” Jeongguk says, and with a wet plop, he removes his girlfriend’s mouth from his dick. 

You could’ve very well been seeing things, you’re paranoia must’ve taken over when the panic settled in because there’s absolutely no chance that Jeongguk spotted you from a one-inch gap in his closet door. No way in hell.

Your vision blurs and your head shakes against the hand you still have planted against your mouth. No way, no way, no way. You endlessly repeat the phrase in your head as your fingers gouge themselves around the metal of the USB drive until you’re sure you’ve drawn blood. 

You can’t lose the text file. You can’t. 

If Jeongguk catches you in his closet he’s going to ask questions. He’ll get suspicious, check your pockets and find the USB, and once he gets the file, you’re done for sure. 

Soojin’s mumbling something to Jungkook but all you could pick up on is the sound of pants being pulled up and the heavy slow steps of boots approaching the door. 

The closet door. 

Your feet are glued to the bottom of the floor, and your ribs are being jabbed by sneakers, boots whatever else Jeongguk hides in here. Snot builds up below your nose and runs into your mouth, leaving a wet and salty taste on your lips. 

You’ll go to jail for this. 

Your life will be over.

There’s a tsk outside the door and the handle to push the door open shakes, “How the fuck is it stuck?” Jeongguk growls from the other side, giving the door several tugs in the opposite direction.

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register the pain building up in the side of your foot. The same foot that happens to be blocking Jeongguk from sliding the door open and exposing you in it.

He shoves the door once more and you wince into your hand, that’ll definitely leave a bruise tomorrow. 

“Yo Jeon! Open the damn door!” A voice erupts from the hallway, followed by several loud pounds on the door. 

Jeongguk curses and the pressure on your foot subsides. The footsteps move away from the closet and somewhere to the opposite side of the room. Your eyes sting and you clamp them shut, letting the tears that accumulated on the brim race their way down onto the floor.

“What the fuck you want Taehyung?” 

Taehyung?

Jeongguk knows Taehyung?

The same Taehyung that you spent an hour talking and sneaking into the frat with? 

The same Taehyung that you told your plan of hacking the person he’s currently talking to?

“Quit your whinin’. Jimin’s beating the shit out of some guy downstairs.” 

Yeah, that’s definitely your Taehyung. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Soojin, do not move.”

Jeongguk’s running starts with heavy thuds exiting his bedroom until the sound completely dissipates into what you presume to be downstairs. Your phone pings in your pocket, confirming the change in elevation. 

You shakily breathe in, trying to regain the smidge of dignity you have left. Letting the USB go, you take your hand out of the pocket and rub the blood onto your pants. 

Slowly, you lift yourself off your side and the pain in your ribs eases. You remove your hand from your mouth, trying to ignore the mixture of snot, tears, and sweat that’s glued to the surface. You lift your arm up, feeling for any cotton or any soft fabric, and when your hand lands on a piece of Jungkook’s clothing you tug the cloth downward and wipe your hand and nose on it. Fuck you, Jeongguk.

“Sweetheart, Imma’ need you to get the fuck outta here,” Taehyung says.

What?

Soojin scuffs, “I’m sorry?”

You pause, dropping the shirt onto the empty space next to you, and move back toward the gap. In the one-inch opening, you see Taehyung bend the upper half of his torso to Soojin’s level until his face is eerily close to hers. 

He tilts his head, “I said, get the fuck out. Or I’ll let your lil’ boyfriend know about Senator Trent.” 

Senator Trent? What the hell would Soojin have to do with the fucking Senator?

“I—“

Taehyung lifts his hand, grabs Soojin’s chin, and presses her cheeks together causing her lips to form a pouting shape. She shakes against his hold but Taehyung doesn’t falter, instead, he continues, “I don’t give a shit about what you wanna say. Now splat.” 

He shakes Soojin’s chin one last time, and when he lets go, the girl runs out of the room. 

Taehyung straightens and turns toward the closet. 

You gulp, pushing yourself further into the wall. 

“I know you’re in there. Now c’mon, we needa’ get outta here before he gets back,” Taehyung approaches the door and this time you let the panel slide open.

When your eyes meet his, his eyebrows furrow, and he sticks his hand out to you, “You good?” 

You shake your head, grab his hand and let him help you back onto your feet. When you rise, your feet wobble, and Taehyung places his arm around you to steady you. 

“He knew I was in here,” you stare at the now empty bed. The remnants of Jeongguk’s presence send shivers up your spine. 

Jeongguk most definitely knew you were in the closet. He was fucking staring directly at you. 

“Maybe,” Taehyung says and gives your shoulder a little squeeze, “but, he didn’t catch you did he?”

“No.”

“See. Now c’mon, let’s call you an Uber.” 

You shove the USB into your desktop and quickly type in your password and watch as the PC unlocks itself, revealing the Windows XP wallpaper you installed months ago.

About half an hour ago, Taehyung took you down the emergency ladder, called you an Uber— on him— and told you to get home safely. 

Didn’t give you his last name, or his number. Hell, he didn’t even let you know if you’d ever see him again.

On the bottom right, a disk icon appears with ‘JJK970 PASS’ attached as the title. You usher your swivel chair closer to the desk and double-click the icon, waiting for the file to open.

Your screen flashes black three times and you rush to press control and escape on your keyboard. Before you get the chance to force quit the file, your terminal opens and about sixteen scripts begin to run. Your eyes scan the Linux code, hoping to pick up on anything you might understand.

The words move at the speed of light, but your eyes flicker onto the red ‘Trojan.exe’ and at that moment you know you’re fucked. 

Jeongguk encrypted a Trojan virus into the text file, and when you ran it on a different computer the script ticked off, like a horse hearing the gunshot at a rally. 

Fuck. You’re going to have to blow the hardware. Right along with the drive that you so desperately worked for tonight. How did he figure you’d go to the frat?

Just as you’re about to bend underneath the desk and pull the cord connecting your desktop to the electricity, a website opens, and the sound of confetti being popped fills the room. 

Congratulations ___,

It’s Jeongguk. Obviously. And before you ask, yes, I know it’s you. I mean, who else would you be stupid enough to hack me? Anyways, sweetheart, in about three minutes, your computer will start running the Trojan horse virus I’ve installed on your computer weeks ago. If you want to know, I have access to everything, so, I’d suggest you do a better job of encrypting your files next time you hack a house full of people. 

I’ll give you two options. 

One.

The Trojan will release a set of sixteen different emails coming directly from your student and personal emails to all of campus and the FBI. The emails include all of your computer logs, and who you’ve hacked. I’ve gone ahead and added my files on there too, so don’t worry. I suspect you know what that means, right? Good. I won’t explain it further.

Two.

Blow up the drive. Take all of your hardware and blow it up too. The virus will run for 25 minutes, plenty of time for you to blow up the hardware and meet one of my drivers who’s already waiting for you outside. You’ll meet me at the location I've told to my driver and we’ll discuss what’s going to happen. If you decide to be stupid and call the police, well, you already know what’ll happen.

Besides, you’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. 

Love,

JK 

You reread the message once, then again, and again, and again until your hands are shaking so hard against the cord that you accidentally pull it out of the socket. 

You yelp when the screen flashes black and the message Jeongguk left for you disappears. What are you going to do? You can’t go to the police, you’d be ratting yourself out. Can’t call Jennie, your roommate, her mouth is larger than the pit you’ve dug yourself into. It’d be the equivalent of calling the cops. And that’s as far as your social circle goes, so, you’re fucked.

A vibration rattles your thigh, and you tug your phone out of the pocket. On the screen, an iSH shell is running, similar to the one you had on Jeongguk earlier. You recognize the coordinates as they’re you’re very own. 

Jeongguk’s tracking your phone, making sure you go downstairs and meet his driver. You’re starting to think that in reality, he has given you only one option.

You turn back to the PC and pull the drive out of it. Shoving the chair to the side, you bend on all fours and press the button you installed on your desktop to open the sliding glass door. Repeating a process you’ve done at least a dozen times, you remove the RAM, close the sliding door and lift yourself off the floor.

After what is basically bolting out of your room, you place the drive and RAM into the microwave, set the timer to thirty, and walk away. 

Jennie who has the critical thinking skills of a toddler will assume you’re just being “extra paranoid” for no reason as usual and will toss the hardware into the bin as she’s done every time you’ve left its reminants in the microwave. 

The wall of windows in your apartment glistens from the rain, and the lights from the surrounding buildings fills the void of the night sky. You don’t remember the forecast mentioning rain. 

The RAM sends splatters of irons into all directions in the microwave, and the sound of what could very well be popcorn popping rustles the kitchen. You pay it no mind, ignoring the various gleaming sparks that fill the dark space of the apartment. You shove your pinging phone into your pocket and close the front door on your way out. 

It takes you less than three minutes to sprint down the three flights of stairs, nearly tripping over your feet a couple of times. You don’t care though, your heart thumps in your chest, ears, and brain, sizzling your body with so much adrenaline you should’ve gone into cardiac arrest about ten minutes ago. 

Outside, the same black Cadillac you noticed when the Uber dropped you off, waits. When you shove the glass door open and tug your hood over your head, the tinted window rolls down and you slip on the concrete, barely having enough time to use your hands to stop yourself from planting yourself face first onto the pavement.

“That surprised?” Jeongguk purrs from the backseat. 

The driver, a tall, stocky, bald man exits the car and opens the rear door that faces the street. You avoid the gaze that is digging into the depths of your soul and try your best to compose yourself, wiping away the grains of concrete that have etched themselves into your palm on your hoodie. 

The rain plummets onto your hood, hitting you with such velocity it feels like tiny knives scraping the surface of your clothes.

You mutter a ‘thanks’ to the driver, who nods in acknowledgment and sit in the empty seat beside Jeongguk. When the door closes, Jeongguk says, “Cat got your tongue?”

This is going to be one hell of a night. 

You huff and swing your head back onto the headrest. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the location?” You say, using your fingers to make air quotation marks when you say location.

Jeongguk laughs. And your stomach turns, his laugh is dry and calculated like he’s playing a game of cat and mouse and he wants you to believe he’s the mouse.

“I wanted to see if you’d come.” 

You don’t reply. Simply, because you have nothing to say. 

You’re confused above everything else. Thirty minutes ago you were sure you’d caught whatever the hell Jeongguk was trying to hide. The next, you’re stuck in a car with him without any other option but to abide by all of his commands. 

“I didn’t really have a choice,” you mutter.

Jeongguk sighs, and from the corner of your eye, you see him typing something into the Linux shell he’s running from his phone. About a second later, he turns his phone off, and your phone vibrates in return. 

When you pull the device out, a single notification reads, “Sorry, you’ve lost! Better luck next time! :P”   He couldn’t just kill the program without trying to piss you off? Your eye twitches and you feel an urge to chuck the device right at Jeongguk’s fucking face. 

Jeongguk must’ve noticed your soiled reaction because then, he does laugh. 

He laughs at the fact that you thought you were smarter than he is. That you thought you won against him. That he most likely did know you were in the closet earlier and still proceeded to almost fuck his girlfriend in front of you out of spite. 

Before you can't process the consequences, and convince yourself you’re better off being the bigger person. You’re throwing your phone so fast that Jeongguk completely stops laughing and has to duck to avoid being hit with the device. 

The driver brakes and you're shoved forward, your face collies with the back of the front seat. 

“Sir, are you okay?” 

“Keep fucking driving,” Jeongguk grits, quickly moving from his seat. 

He grabs you by the collar, pushing you against the backseat with so much force you’ll probably have a mild concussion tomorrow.

Jeongguk splits your legs open, digging his knee into the empty space, and leans in. You wince from the contact. He’s entirely too close. You can smell the lemon mint that spews out of his mouth, the smokey auburn scent of his cologne, and the way his leg is quite literally digging right into your pussy. 

When your eyes gaze downwards, he gives your collar a shake causing your eyes to look back into his. His eyes are black, fiery, and demanding. Like he’s ready to suck your soul out of your body with each word. He looks like he wants you to mold into whatever he demands.

“Listen here sweetheart, I don’t think you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. I have my limits but you’ve been fucking pushing me ever since you tried to get information on Jimin. If you ever pull some shit like that what you did right now I’ll get rid of you faster than you can kill a command.” 

You shakily inhale and try to get him off of you, when his body doesn’t budge you try to push your ass further into the seat and away from his knees. Jeongguk chuckles, digging his knee further into the region. 

Your pulse quickens and you look everywhere except at him. Trying to ignore his completely engulfing presence. He’s everywhere in the space, in the air, in your mind. He’s consuming you and he hasn’t even touched you.

Jeongguk leans in, letting go of your collar and using the same hand to push your chest into the chair, “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin, doll.”

The scent of auburn collides with your senses, dizzying you completely. You try to gasp for air, grab the handle above you, you reach for anything to help you regain your composure. But, you can’t. You can’t because now, Jeongguk’s at the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the surface of your lobe. 

“You like this don’t you?” He whispers, his voice dropping an octave.

You bite your lip, and Jeongguk chuckles, dropping his head an inch to press a tender lick to the area below your ear. The ends of his black hair tickle your cheek and your heart thumps so hard against the cage of your chest that it nearly jumps out. 

This is definitely the most embarrassing moment of your life. He threatened your life a minute ago and now you’re moaning under him like a whore.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

You try and push yourself further into the chair but you’ve reached the leather’s limit, a hard plastic underneath the chair bites at your back. It pushes you forward, and closer to Jeongguk and you bite back the moan that manifests itself in your throat when Jeongguk begins to suck on your neck. 

He gives the skin a wet kiss, proceeding to open his mouth and suck hard. He sucks until his tongue rolls over the surface and the moan you bit back escapes. 

The fucker must be enjoying this because he smiles against your skin, continuing to attack the region. 

“Please,” You moan, trying to use any of the energy you have left to lift your arms up and onto Jeongguk’s shoulders to push him away. 

You shouldn’t be doing this, not with him.

There’s a vibration against the pit of your stomach and you suppress another moan. What the fuck are you doing?

“Fuck,” Jeongguk groans, removing himself from you. He uses one hand to hoist himself over you, while the other digs into his sweats and pulls out his phone.

You watch as his face illuminates and he flips the phone toward you. A shit-eating grin enveloping his features, “Would you look at that, your little friend Taehyung is calling.” 

You swear you did not rationally, or even consciously, doodle a heart on your paper like a ten-year-old girl with a crush. You refuse to believe it. However, with the way Mr. Jeon keeps pacing back and forth, bottom lip between his teeth for the split second that he allows his eyes to meet yours during his lecture, your mind couldn’t care less about the damn doodled heart.

You’re not ashamed or scared to get caught gawking, one reason being that you've already been caught. Many times, actually. So what’s one more?

The other reason is that he does it often and oh so casually too. Mr. Jeon wasn’t going to pretend like he didn't notice you sitting there every week with your teeth nibbling at the end of your pencil, thighs squeezed shut with a resting, subtle pout on your plump lips. He wasn't going to act oblivious to that look in your eyes either, he was able to quickly pinpoint that certain look, that plead, the day he first saw it.

It’s been two months since you got transferred into his third semester English Lit class, and fuck were you grateful for your other professor's sudden leave.

Though he'll never admit it, he's just as grateful.

Two full months of him eye-fucking you— or you eye-fucking him (hard to tell)— and trying his absolute best not to let his curiosity lead him to wonder how utterly drenched you potentially were in your chair, actively trying his best to prevent the possible blood flow to his crotch. A mid-lecture boner would be a disaster, he reminds himself frequently.

“Your assignment for this week should be fairly easy, it’s your final analysis. I want you to pick a classic literary piece and analyze one of the less-talked-about thoughts, ideas, or events in it that can or do contribute to the original meaning of the said literary piece.”

You've picked up on this one habit of his, which is how he adamantly avoids glancing in your direction when he speaks— because your reaction to just his voice alone?... It's enough to make him weak in the knees. Again, he can't be in that state mid-lecture. Horrible.

His pacing comes to a halt when he takes a seat behind his desk and on his desk chair, and you honestly can't resist sparing a quick look at his man-spread thighs. His toned, thick thighs that are now restraining against the hard-working material of his chinos. You can't resist imagining what it would feel like to pleasure yourself against those thighs, the way it would feel if he tensed the muscle beneath you. You can't resist imagining how his toned, tattooed arm would contrast so sexily against the soft, delicate skin of your back, holding you flush against him as you moved your hips. The words of encouragement that would slip past his lips. God.

"If no one has any further questions that should be it. Format the analysis how you usually would, grading rubrics and the deadline date will be emailed to each of you by tonight."

His words are only a vague mumble to you and you don't doubt that you probably look like one of those exaggerated head-over-heels cartoon characters right now. Cute, but beyond embarrassing when you're not aware that you're the only one still seated, half the room already having piled out the door.

Luckily, you were self-aware a few minutes ago when he explained the assignment, and with the way he was now watching you intently, wondering if you were going to just sit there forever or finally initiate the first move given that he would never bring himself to, you impulsively walk over to his desk after strategically deciding to 'discuss the assignment further' as a poor excuse to talk to him.

"Ms. Y/L/N." His tone was of faux shock yet casual, playful almost. It's too soon for him to be certain about you're main objective, but the second you approach his desk- the new, thick and suffocating air is indisputable.

"I have an idea for the assignment, but I want to run it by you first... get a second opinion before I start."

He nods his chin upwards in a gesture for you to continue, and with the way his eyes are even darker up close, you can't help but internally shudder.

"So I'm choosing Romeo and Juliet, basic, I know, but -" you cut yourself off when the loud click of the door's automatic lock echos throughout the lecture hall, the heavy wooden door now sealed shut and acting as a barrier that's shielding you and him from the scrambling students who were now gone. His eyes flick to the door, then right back to yours, and the air gets even more suffocating.

"- you know how their love is considered to be like... undeniable?" Your voice was more of a timid whisper and he rolls his tongue inside of his cheek and does that hot nod thing again and you just know that your panties are done for by now.

"Well, I don't doubt that it was undeniable, but I do doubt that it was love at first sight. Romeo definitely had a thing for her, but 'love' wasn't what originally drove him to do the unimaginable. It was lust."

He looks as if he wants to laugh, but he won't. He wouldn't. Humored, though, he acknowledges your theory.

"And how do you think that contributes to the overall message?"

You brace yourself for your first bold statement of this encounter, adverting your eyes to glance over the organized piles of papers in front of you while speaking.

"Well, the overall message is what true love can look like, but what if it's what true lust can look like. It makes sense, to me at least... but I'm sure you can understand that concept just as well."

He straightens his once slouched position, his elbows propping against the surface, his chin dangerously close to your chest. His forehead wrinkles the slightest bit as he stares up at you from the somewhat awkward position, a dark spark hidden just beyond each pupil.

"So you think it was a sexual desire that drove them to do the unimaginable?"

Whether it was his words or his proximity, you can't take back that small, struggled whimper that left your throat. He can't take back the sudden blow flow to his dick either.

"Humans tend to let their sexual charges get the best of them, it’s nature." It was his turn to get flustered by your words, all of the "what if's" he's ever fantasized about you clouding his mind completely, leaving his body to selfishly betray his own thought-over morals, eager to indulge in you while he has the chance. It is your graduation month after all.

Jungkook knows this is something he will never be able to take back. He knows that this is crazy, absurd, against his contract's code of conduct, and just downright wrong. But he also knows that you're an adult- a young one at that, but still an adult. However, he's also aware that you're impressionable, so that's exactly why he'll let you be the one to choose what happens. He'll only do what you want to do, the desire is strong but nowhere near greedy enough to take advantage.

He's prepared for you to second guess, and when you do, he won't try to convince you to stay.

Fuck him or don't, it'll be that sexual desire of his that lead him to willingly want to do the unimaginable with you in the first place. Well, desire and the fact that his current personal life hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows lately either. He's been stressed and in immense need of a good distraction, so an old-fashioned quick-fuck is not so bad of an idea.

The more the pros outweigh the cons, the more that want overtakes and he's realizing how badly he needs this. He needs you right now more than ever.

"If you want it, it's yours."

You certainly did not have to tell him twice, his actions being supernaturally fast as he gets up to stand to flush against your standing body, large hands settling on your waist, your heartbeat no longer being able to keep up a subtle rhythm and you know he can feel it booming against his own chest because you are close enough to feel him against you.

In the midst of a gasp, he places a much-needed kiss on the set of lips that he was never able to resist thinking about— coming to find out you exceed his expectations. He sucks, bites, and swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, hips instinctively grinding for friction.

And you? You're a mess.

He already has you moaning, and you can't tell whether it's from pleasure or it's your way of pleading— but both make sense. Your knees feel like jello and your pussy is throbbing underneath your drenched, hopeless panties. The taste of his mouth is something you never want to part with, and the feel of his needy bulge using your body for relief is something you're still having trouble wrapping your head around.

"You wanted this so badly, huh? Daydreamed about moments like this?"

Your cheeks flush pink at the fact that he's correct. Not that you didn't suspect he already had a gist of what you think about when he's teaching his lectures, but you're still embarrassed hearing him confirm it.

He brings one hand from your waist to hook a finger beneath your chin, guiding you to face him. "Tell me one of your favorites."

Your brows furrow in confusion, not understanding what he means. Before your parted lips could move to speak, he elaborates. "Walk me through one of your favorite fantasies you've had... Tell me what you visualized me doing to you."

Your pussy was abused without even being touched yet. His words traveled straight to a knot in your lower stomach, causing a wave-like sensation to wash over you, settling at your entrance.

"Fuck." Was all you were capable of letting out, too much in a haze to form a coherent answer. You want to relieve this painful tension, but he's taking his time.

"The faster you walk me through it, the faster I'll do it."

"I would think about you naked, a lot, your hands all over me, fucking me so hard 'til I feel numb. I thought about my mouth around you, the things you'd call me."

His cock twitched at each confession, especially that last one.

"Yeah? And what did I call you?"

"A slut... a behaved slut."

The deep bass of his voice followed his sadistic chuckle, accompanied by his cock pressing even harder against you, making you whine as the sensation cascades over you more intense than before. "Is that true? Are you a slut?"

The residue of his chuckle is in the form of a smirk, eyebrows raised as he intently waits for your answer. "That's for you to decide... you'll have to find out on your own."

They weren't the words he expected, but he was beyond satisfied with doing just that. Finding out. Not without milking the temptation out further, of course.

"What about behaved? Do you behave?"

"Only when I want to."

He keeps his playfulness intact even when he forcefully wraps a hand around your throat. His grip contradicts his light, kind smile significantly. You gasp at the suddenness of it all.

"Uh oh... Looks like I'm going to have a rough time." He guides you by the throat to walk backward, crotch still pressed against you when your ass shoves against the edge of his desk. "But if you are a behaved slut for me, we can both have a good, rough time."

You understand his implication far too well, and if your pussy wasn't convulsing around nothing, you might've just pressed your stubbornness further.

You're eyebrows crease in pity from his dominance winning but his proposition was something you really needed, and he sees the invisible agreement on your face. He notes your willingness to comply, and the strong grip on your neck tames down as he rejoins your lips, slowly.

Humming as his tongue teasingly trails up along yours, you cautiously bring your open hand flat to his chest, feeling out the muscular ridges you would always see a faint imprint of even from afar.

“Get on the desk.”

His voice was more of a murmur but the faint undertone of unmistakable authority was more than prominent. Following his breathless request, you use both hands to grip the edge of the desk, pushing yourself up to set your ass on its surface.

Your legs are spread only the slightest, and he could fit in between if he wanted to but he’s not coming closer like you assumed he would. Amused, he stands one foot away from your waiting core.

“Look at you, sitting on my desk making a mess of yourself.”

He’s not wrong. Before him lies an image of your breathless body panting almost hysterically, a facial expression so lewd as you wait to just feel something, anything against you. All while being completely oblivious of you're unhinged, yearning state.

His words snap you back into your right mind, a large gulp took to help stabilize your heavy breathing.

"Please."

As if his smile couldn't have grown any eviler, he places a finger to your lips, inching closer but not letting your clothed core meet his bulge.

"Please touch you?" He doesn't give you a chance to speak, his free hand having crept up unnoticed, landing his middle fingertip on your soaked panties. "Touch this wet pussy of yours?"

You let out a whiney groan to show how excruciating his temptation is, all in hopes he just might cave in.

His finger trails up to the side of your pant's waistband, his other hand falling from your lips to join the opposite side. Hooking his four digits into the material of the fabric on both sides, the tops of his fingers against your bare skin as he roughly yanks your pants and panties down in one swift movement, his biceps tensing, leaving them bunched up at your knees before slowly pulling them off completely.

He stares at the picture he created, the picture he unveiled, and relishes in the way your delicate, plump pussy looks on top of his desk. This new sight was enough to make him needy. His own tortuous temptation catches up to him as he finds himself magnetically closing in the space between your pussy and his bulge.

You stare down at the contact only for half a second before a familiar hand is grasping at your neck and your lips are directed and then captured between his.

Testing the waters, you grind subtly against him.

Whimpering into his mouth, you realize how worked up you truly are after him taking his sweet time, and the friction from rubbing against his covered bulge alone is something you can see yourself cumming from.

And from the way he’s breathing shallowing against the kiss, chest rising just to crash back down, you know he’s worked up too.

“Please… Fuck me.”

You stop your grinding when he ignores you, knowing that he wasn’t moving his hips anyway. He was letting you be the one to create that friction because he knows he’s too hard to do it back. Just like you, cumming from friction alone wasn’t a far stretch in his mind.

Upon your stopping, he breaks the kiss, the sloppy, hopeless kiss, and puts some distance between your bodies again.

You watch as he debates something in his head, noticing how his eyes narrow upon having made a decision, and before you can even question him, he’s walking over to the opposite side of the desk and grabbing hold of his desk chair. You instinctively grind against nothing as you watch him roll the chair over, parking it right in front of you.

The chair was low enough that if he sat in it, his mouth would be leveled with your core, and he would be able to—

You gasp in partial realization of his plan and partial excitement.

Doing as expected, he sits on the chair, rolling himself closer and closer until you bite down on your lip from the feeling of his warm breath directly against you.

He pauses, eyes up on you. You realize he’s stopped, so you look down and are caught in his gaze, a microscopic smirk on his face as he speaks.

“This is just foreplay, don’t even think about cumming.”

You feel yourself convulse at his words, at his implication that he’s going to fuck you but not without performing oral first. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are.

“So what if I do? Are you gonna fail me, Mr. Jeon?”

You couldn’t help yourself. And you really wish you could have when you feel his tongue slip past your slit, completely skipping over easing you into the sensation and instead rapidly flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud until your moans transform into something of a scream.

“Slower, you have to go— Fuck! Slower.”

He chuckles against you, hands engulfing your inner thighs and squeezing the plushness of each one to his liking. His hands are strong and his grip is tight and you know you’re going to have bruising all over the areas he’s mindlessly toying with.

“Don’t call me ‘Mr. Jeon’, it’s Jungkook… And if you want to cum, you’ll drop that attitude of yours. Haven’t you been taught manners?”

His short break to speak was enough for you to miss his tongue, even though it was too fast for you to handle, and you whine as you push yourself against his lips to shut him up and get more.

He smiles against you, licking a stripe up your slit once, originally planning to pull back but something about how you tasted was too enticing to do such. Instead, he indulges deeper. Hungrier. And this time it’s not just his tongue flicking over you, but his whole mouth swallowing and exploring every part of your pussy.

His bottom lip starts at your entrance, top lip at your clit, and he closes them in to meet, all while his tongue is busy exploring the space in between. He repeats that until he discovers the way your tight hole feels around his tongue. Until he finds out how your pussy contracts when he licks your clit with the flat of his tongue. And you repeat your moans, the chants of his name, the wave in your stomach that’s building and building each passing second until you can’t take anymore.

“Mm m’gonna cum if you don’t stop soon.”

You tried your best to sound normal, but your voice was two octaves too high and your breathing threw off any chances of sounding remotely close to nonchalant or ‘normal’.

He really doesn’t want to stop, but he can’t have you cumming. Not yet.

Pulling away, at a loss of breath himself, he stares up at you, his lips swollen and glossed with your juices, eyes trance-like.

You stare back with the same needy gleam, and for the first time he gives in to your wordless plead, his hands making their way to his belt.

You watch as he fiddles with the pesky belt loop, eagerly yanks the zipper down, and pulls both his briefs and pants to rest on his mid-thighs. You watch as his length, the one you were right about in your daydreams, springs up sternly against his lower stomach, holding an angry tinge of red. You watch as he uses his thumb to spread the thick bead of precum that balanced along his slit. You watched, but more importantly, you craved so fucking badly.

And so did he.

Standing up, he notes how you’re too out of breath to maintain a proper kiss, so he settles on the skin of your jaw, biting, sucking, licking, pecking, all while he slowly strokes himself, his shaft angled just above your vulva.

Just as he parts his lips from your jaw, you spread your legs a little wider, angling them up just the slightest, until Jungkook’s eyes squint in thought.

“What?” You breathily ask.

He glances back over his shoulder for whatever reason before looking down at his cock that was just about to finally enter you.

“It’s just that I didn't take note to bring condoms with me to work today.”

You try not to but still inevitably laugh at his sarcasm, slowly beginning to like his humor just a little bit. But then your faced with the predicament at hand, saying the first solution that comes to mind because you’re still aching down there.

“It’s fine, I’ll take the pill when I get home.”

His eyes dart back and forth between yours, an ‘are you serious?’ expression that soon blends into an ‘oh you are serious’ expression. You nod at his hesitance and contemplation, encouraging him to continue.

‘Humans tend to let their sexual charges get the best of them, it’s nature.’ Jungkook remembers the words that lead to this, and he realizes how accurate they are as he is getting ready to fuck his student raw on top of his desk, in the room that was jam-packed with people only moments ago.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

You don’t have time to speak in regards to Jungkook’s words of …unwanted disbelief? as he contradicts himself by easing his tip into your slicked-up hole. Any words you were planning on saying were gone just like that as your mouth stayed agape, pussy stretching around him as he pushed in slowly, taking it inch by inch.

You felt yourself suffocating each ridge and vein on his cock, his girth pulsating the deeper he went and the tighter you squeezed him. His lips are parted as he lets out occasional, deep grunts of pleasure mixed with concentration.

He was just over halfway in when you felt full. You imagined him to be this big, but fuck was he big. It’s like your fantasies have been intensified, enhanced if you will. You’re not complaining, but you are wincing.

“Is that too much? I don’t have to bottom out if you can’t take -”

“Go all the way. It’s fine.”

He looks up at you at your confident instructions, eyes lighting up in a small smirk before biting his lip and doing as told.

You really wish you had a better analogy for the feeling of him bottoming out in you that isn’t something so absurd and overstretched- but it really does feel like you are floating on the clouds.

He’s so fucking big.

Perhaps you are in the clouds, his dick being your cause of death. But when he pulls back halfway and softly caresses your cheek, you're brought straight back to earth.

“Are you crying?”

Are you? You come to find out he’s only detecting the obvious as you feel a wet drop slipping down your face. You are in fact crying and you suddenly want to bury yourself alive with the embarrassment.

“Crying cause my cock?” He’s not even trying to sound seductive, and with the way his tone comes off as mocking, it’s almost as if he’s trying to humiliate you. “So pathetic, Y/N.”

You don’t know how to react, but it’s not like you even have time to as he drills himself back into you even harsher than before, forearms securely holding your thighs around his waist.

“Fucking hell.” He gasps out, his hips at an inhumane pace.

Your eyes are sealed shut, hands fisted on top of the desk's surface, mouth agape as it’s too overwhelming to make a sound.

You wish you had it in you to speak, or breathe, but you’re completely frozen in the feeling of his cock pounding into your done-for pussy.

“Jungkook…” Your voice is almost gone despite how little of it you’ve been using. “Faster.”

Your words betray you, but also lead to rewarding you with what you subconsciously wanted.

His hips pick up, and you didn’t think that would even be possible. Perhaps that’s half the reason why you said it because you thought there’s no way you could get it. However, his speed increases and the empty room is filled with vulgar noises.

“So you are a behaved slut… taking my cock so well.” He groans his words as he pounds in and out of you and you’re too dizzy to note that he called you the pet name you confessed to him moments ago.

You try to focus on anything but the feeling that’s building inside of you each passing second. You will do anything: fuck your professor, potentially get in so much trouble because of it, get him in trouble- but you will not cum so soon. You just won’t allow it.

But you’re both aware of the reality that this predicament holds, which is that you’ve built this moment up so much with all the teasing and foreplay that it won’t be long until you’re both falling victim to the outcome of temptation.

“You need to slower… Go slower, I mean. You need to— Fuck, Jungkook.”

Jungkook smirks for the slightest second when he sees how you're fucking up your words because of how he’s fucking you.

He’s just as adamant about not finishing so soon, but for him, it’s way more difficult.

Jungkook has realized by now that the last woman he’s indulged in like this was his ex-wife, and that was over a year ago. So feeling something so incredibly tight around his cock that isn’t his hand for once, makes his orgasm almost impossible to wait.

And with that unfortunately being said, Jungkook’s eyes widen as his cock twitches, and just like that—

“Fuck!”

You gasp sharply, not expecting that to happen so soon. You would take this as an opportunity to humiliate him back, but you’d rather take this as an opportunity to finally let yourself release.

Bringing your hand to your clit, you rub frantically, eyes fixated on the breathless and dazed-over man in front of you as you let your high build, grinding your hips onto his softening cock as it finally collapses over you, and you moan in pleasure as he hisses in overstimulation.

You both exhale in sync, and the second he’s no longer battling the overstimulation, he grabs your throat.

You stare up into his eyes, your orgasm still lingering, and you feel so submissive all of a sudden. Like you want to apologize for what you did, let him choke you if that’s what he wants.

But then he softly kisses you.

Your thoughts shift into ones of confusion as he releases pressure on your neck and intimately laces his tongue with yours, suctioning onto your bottom lip before releasing with a pop and slowly rejoining, creating a slow, sensual, and heated makeout.

It was so, for lack of a better word, nice that you were almost upset when he pulled away.

His hand peels from your thigh, the other from your neck, and he cups your cheeks. Your wide eyes meet his, noticing how his features have softened tremendously compared to before.

“Was that okay?”

As soon as you nod yes, too taken aback to think of any correct verbal response, he lets one hand off of your face and very slowly pulls himself out of you, brows creasing slightly. He notices your whimper and strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I have wet wipes in the top drawer if you want to reach over and get them.”

You really cannot wrap your head around this completely new, kinder, version of him. You wonder if he’s just sexually dominant, and it’s not until now that you realize you’ve never taken much thought into his real personality. Perhaps he is a very nice guy.

The more things cleared up in your head, the quicker the confusion slipped past you and you found yourself reaching over the desk while still sittng atop to grab the wet wipes from the said top drawer.

“Here, I got it.” He volunteers as he takes the package from your hands, plucking out a moist wipe before gently wiping away any trace of your mixed climaxes from your core.

He’s extremely delicate with you, and he avoids your clit completely because he knows how sensitive it probably is right now.

He catches you staring at him, a bunny-like smile lighting up his face.

“I heard warm baths can help with soreness.” He speaks as he discards the wipe in the trash can beside the desk. “And I’m sorry for going a little too hard, it’s been a minute since… y’know.”

His cheeks are tinted with the palest shade of red, and you find it somewhat adorable how he’s embarrassed to confess that to you.

“It’s okay.” Your voice is small, and it makes his heart clench. You’re not the only one who’s fond.

You try to bite your tongue, but when he helps you redress after having cleaned himself up a bit, you can’t help but ask about the elephant in the room.

“Why are you so nice all of a sudden?”

Jungkook smiles at your question, shaking his head a bit in humor as he looks down at his feet and then back up to you.

“Has it crossed your mind that I just might be a nice guy after all?”

Yes, yes it has.

His tone wasn’t rude or cocky, but humorous and you found yourself laughing a little. And something about your reaction to him is so enticing to him but he doesn’t know what it is he wants from you.

Maybe more of you, perhaps. He definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you again.

“I um… This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing.”

Your ears perk up, and all of a sudden you have a strong craving to find out if he is a nice guy. Learn more about him… about his body. Sex or not, you wouldn’t mind seeing him again either.

“I can leave you my number.” You suggest. “My schedule has been mostly clear these days… except for classes of course.”

And just like that, he remembers you’re a student. He remembers the risk of what just happened, the risk of continuing this. He contemplates his offer as you get down from the desk, but then you reach up onto your tiptoes to place a shy kiss on his lips and his doubts falter.

And he doesn’t want to admit it, but he thinks he could get used to that.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon.”

He watches as you exit the lecture hall, and for some reason, a reason he’s trying his best not to decode, he’s already anticipating the next time that he’ll see you.

~~~

A/N: the first chapter of my first series?!?! teaaa 🫣 this series is going to be so fun to write… i have all the chapters planned out and i can’t wait to write more, stay tuneddd <3

🏷: @hollyweird0 @efapi @kthlvr30 @heebear @saweetspoiled @mauveliz @pb-n-juju @jeonzll @elizabethdots @aalwaysreading @yn-lifeu @sxtaep @idkk7 @hyungtaev @bebejungkook @kooliv @parkboraya @buurosy @petalsofink @http-stark @borahaerhy @lovestayevie @ellesalazar @jungkooksseuphoria @taehyungseggs @deataenote @investedreader @itbtoblikethatsometimes @jksjx @lemonteacyst

*pls let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist <3

If there was one thing about being an artist—it’s that it can absolute torture. You hated to admit how right-brained you actually were. You felt as if your mind moved much faster and more chaotic than most people. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t function with—you had dealt with it your whole life, finding different outlets for your energy and itchiness. You couldn’t remember the exact age that you picked up a crayon, but you knew it was younger than most.

A lot of your childhood seems to be a blur, only a few memories sticking out like a bookmark at times. One of the most prominent being at age 5 when you took a few Sharpies and marked all over the dining room wall, drawing what you thought to be a field of flowers. Turns out, it was just a black scribbled mess that ended up with you hiding in your room, terrified of how angry your mother had gotten at you. You had learned your lesson that day that the wall should not be your canvas of choice. 

Crayons turned to colored pencils turned to watercolor turned to oils turned to whatever you could grab and extend your talent further. You hadn’t taken the original school route—your dad putting you in a special junior school for artists, all the way up until you graduated high school. Naturally, this lead you to going to university to major in the fine arts. As you sit here in your studio now, you’re unsure if that was the smartest decision. 

The funny thing about artists is that you’re sure they are the type of people who crave and desperately need the most validation of any profession. You valued positive reinforcement to the point it could be crippling. You’re sure that it stems from some type of child-like validation you never received from really either of your parents. They were always hard on you but your dad was the more lenient one of the two; your mom too selfish in her own abilities to look your way. 

You glance up to the clock hanging on the wall. It’s nearing 3 in the afternoon which means you only have one class left for today. You were by no means a professor, however as part of your apprenticeship—it was required by your senior, Kim Seokjin, to assist some of his lectures. Like you, Kim Seokjin was a tortured soul with such talent that it was hard to comprehend as an onlooker. You were nearing 25, Seokjin was over 30 and he had built much more of a name for himself than you probably ever would. Despite the hundreds of artists just in the area surrounding the neighborhood and university, he was one of the best. He taught only the uppermost level classes at the university, handpicking the students himself to teach. You were lucky enough to have kissed his ass enough as an undergrad for him to accept you into his apprenticeship program. It didn’t pay much—starving artists was an absolutely true trope—but it paid the bills and at least you weren’t in a crippling, life-draining office job. 

You give one last glance to the large canvas in front of you before throwing in your colorfully stained apron over an easel in the corner. 

You check off the mental note to bring Seokjin the rest of the paint he wanted for today’s last class. You hurry into his own smaller studio/office that’s right near yours and pick up the tray of paints he’s set out. Afraid that you’ll be late for class—which was Seokjin’s biggest pet peeve, you hurry out of his office and back down to the main classroom. As you turn down the main corridor, you don’t even recognize what’s happened when you crash into a body, slipping backwards and letting go of the tray of paints, halfway falling backwards with a yelp until something—someone—manages to catch your fall just in time. 

Your eyes are completely ignoring whatever stranger is holding you in a such a strong embrace that it’s taking your breath away and looking over at the colors which now paint the hallway. 

“Fuck,” is the first thought that crosses your mind and when you finally look up at who’s got you—the second thing to cross your mind? Shit—who is this?

“Are you okay? Fuck I’m so sorry, I-I have to run these papers to advising before my class,” the stranger rambles on, his grip still tight around your body. He’s got you pressed against his chest, one of his hands around your waist tightly, the other holding your other arm out awkwardly, giving away that’s what he originally caught you with. 

Your mouth slightly gapes open, confused and getting angrier at the second. Seokjin was going to murder you. That or just take the paints out of your next paycheck—which you honestly would rather take the former. With all of your might, you push yourself away from the man who you crashed into, feeling his grip on your arm even after he’s let go. 

“I’m fine,” you spit out, running a hand through your hair in frustration. You bend down and start to pick up the paint that indeed survived the fall, placing them back on the tray one by one. To your surprise, the stranger bends down too, helping you place everything back into the tray neatly. 

“I’m sure there are some towels—“

“The janitors will get it, it’s fine,” you interrupt the boy who keeps a mild expression on his features. It’s true though, spilled paint is nothing out of the ordinary for the cleanup crew. It was a school of arts after all. 

You leave without saying another word to the stranger. You march towards the classroom, ready to hear it in front of Seokjin and all of his students. The thought mortified you, but it happened to his apprentices more often than you would think. Seokjin’s tactics are scary and intimidating but they are like that on purpose. He wants his students to be the best and he wants his apprentices to be even better. And your work as of recent and now this incident? You were surely not that. 

Seokjin doesn’t acknowledge when you let him know about the spilled paints, giving you a dismissing—clearly annoyed—glance before he begins his last abstract painting class. The classroom space is large and bright filled with 11 students exactly. Six working spaces down each side of the rectangle, a lone working space in the back corner of the room. You remembered taking this class vividly, finding the abstract work natural to you and your paint brushes. While you enjoyed abstract, your speciality lied in realism—whether it be through pencils or oils or paints. 

In many ways your role in the classroom acted similarly as a graduate student would at a normal university. You were there to provide help to the other students when needed, but the basis of your apprenticeship under Soekjin was to gain experience and build up your portfolio. Lecturing in art school is obviously quite different than regular university. Instead of an hour and a half of note taking, it was a simple debrief at the beginning of classes and then the remainder time was for working. 

During Seokjin’s brief monologue, the back door of the classroom opens in a rush, the same stranger from earlier entering in, demanding attention away from the teacher. 

“Sorry I’m late—I had to drop off some papers in the administrative office,” the stranger explains as he walks up towards Seokjin. They shake hands quickly, Seokjin introducing him to the class. 

“Everyone, this is Jeon Jungkook—he’s just transferred in from another department, please welcome him in kindly.” 

Jeon Jungkook. A few of the student’s eyes light up as he gives a small wave to everyone. You’re leaning against the wall a few feet behind Jungkook and Seokjin but suddenly Jungkook must have noticed your small movement of crossing your arms over your chest. He nearly does a double take as you make brief eye contact. He’s handsome, you can tell that much as you hadn’t paid much attention when he bumped into you earlier. Jungkook is giving you another apologetic look until you’re the first one to look away, gazing back over the entire class. 

Once class presumes, Jungkook takes the empty workstation towards the back of the classroom, beside of Kim Jisoo and across from Kim Yugyeom. 

“Y/N?” Seokjin says from where he stands, motioning you to come to him. You push yourself off the wall, sauntering over to your boss. 

“Yes?” 

“Meet me in my office after this class is over. I don’t really need you in here today so just continue working on what you need to,” he says only giving you a short glance. Your stomach drops. 99% of the time, if Seokjin wanted to meet in his office, it never really meant good news. Noticing some of his students who are sitting up front are listening, you only give him a short smile with a nod. The last thing you needed was his students talking about how shitty his chosen apprentice truly was. 

You push yourself off the wall, your feet carrying you quickly out of the classroom. Little to your knowledge, the stranger from earlier only had his eyes on you as you disappeared from the classroom. 

⏤

It’s only less than a couple hours later you find yourself standing in front of Seokjin’s office. You are gripping your tote bag tightly against your side, the rattling of your materials the only thing your mind can solely focus on. Sending a quick prayer up to whoever, you knock gently on the door and a hear a subtle noise for you to come in. 

You force a small smile on your face as you enter the office, making eye contact with Seokjin immediately. He makes you so intensely nervous that it can be hard to stomach being around him—but the validation and credibility he gives your portfolio—it will be worth it in the end. 

“Hi,” you say as he motions you to take a seat at his desk. He’s sat across from you, finishing typing away at his computer before he gives you any attention. His office is quite the opposite of what you would expect an artist’s office to be. It was all monochromatic and cream with touches of mahogany brown in the furniture and cabinets. There was barely any art on the walls, just a few small canvases that you recognized as his own pieces. You have to hold in a laugh at his narcissism. 

“Thanks for coming by, I don’t want to keep you too late,” he says emotionless. 

“No worries,” you shake your head, “Is everything okay?” 

He hesitates before he responds, leaning back into his giant office chair that looks divinely comfortable.

“I actually wanted to present you with that question Y/N,” he speaks slowly, as if he’s studying you and your reaction.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Me?” 

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue yourself. 

“I-I don’t think I understand,” you stutter anxiously, feeling yourself getting hot in the tiny office. This is it—this is where you die. Over spilled fucking paint. 

“Y/N,” he pauses to lean forward on his forearms, “You were one of my most exemplary students in undergrad which is why out of all the candidates, I choose you to be one of my apprentices. I just can’t help but feel you’ve been… well, lacking in the work you’re putting out..” 

His words are slow and calculated, as if he has rehearsed them many times over before spelling it out for you. Your shoulders begin to slump and you now wish you were being reprimanded over spilled fucking paint. You don’t even know what to say, so you don’t. Seokjin takes your silence with respect, continuing for you. 

“I just want you to be your best artistic self. I know what a slump feels like and if you need any help—“

“No,” you interject quickly, “It’s just—“ you pause, wanting to think about what you’re saying before you speak, “It’s just I’ve just been a little uninspired lately, but no I definitely don’t need help.” 

The last thing you needed was for Seokjin to think you couldn’t handle your own. The world of professional art was ruthless. You figured this out by your early teens when your mother had a gallery that was quote “a crashing bore of monotone, desperately wanting to be something it’s not.” After that, she locked herself in her bedroom for 3 days. You needed to prove to yourself you could handle piece after piece by yourself. If you couldn’t prove it to you, who on the outside would believe you could?

Seokjin narrows his eyes at you and you’re sure he definitely doesn’t believe you. “The final exhibit is coming up, I just don’t want you to lose sight of it.”

Knowing today’s date, the final exhibit is coming faster than you would like. Nearly 2 months away, but Seokjin is right. Art takes time, patience, and inspiration. Three things that you’re running out of.

“I appreciate the concern,” you say as genuine as you can, gritting through your annoyed smile, “But I promise you, I’m fine. I’m sure you know how it is to be in a funk.” 

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. If he wasn’t such an intimidating asshole, you would find him attractive. He seems to be content with your answer as he begins to nod slowly. 

“Alright,” he responds, “If you eventually need help though, you have an abundance of students who would be willing to work with you. Great art doesn’t have to be born out of loneliness.” 

You nearly snicker. The funny thing about artists is that we are so narcissistic, we can’t even see what we’re saying is just a crock of horse shit. You decide to leave the conversation at that, bidding Seokjin a simple goodbye and a wishful weekend. You pick your bag up off the ground, fishing your phone out of it quickly, leaving Seokjin’s office in a rush. You had dinner plans and you weren’t sure how much time you now had to get ready. 

You’re scrolling through your messages to recall the exact time you were supposed to be there when suddenly you’re bumping—no crashing—into someone—again! You’ve let out a yelp and a curse word you shouldn’t repeat when you hear your poor phone collide with the floor. Luckily you managed to catch yourself against the wall as your heart beats with fight or flight adrenaline. 

“Shit,” someone mutters and when you finally regain your orientation, you instantly recognize the voice. You realize it’s Jeon Jungkook—that new student who bumped into you earlier. He’s sitting on the ground as if he’s just been hit by a bus. It makes you narrow your eyes—you’re not that dense you knocked this man to the ground. How dramatic can he be? 

“Can we stop meeting like this?” You say as you reach down for your phone. You hope and pray there aren’t any cracks. When you turn it over, you let out a relieved sigh when the screen is unharmed. 

“That was totally your fault that time,” Jungkook pushes himself off the ground, fluffing up his dark hair some. Once he stands fully in front of you, you are now getting an essence of how big he is. He’s average height at most, but from your stature, you’re having to still look up at him. 

“How was that my fault?” You press, taking a step away from him to give you space. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t walk around with your head in that thing?” He motions to your phone with his eyebrows. His eyes are wide and doe like, his lips a little thin with a piercing on the right side, and a nose on the bigger side. You’ve always liked big noses. You normally wouldn't describe men this way, but he’s genuinely pretty. If he wasn’t standing right here, you’d blush a little.

“Maybe you shouldn’t sprint around this place like you’re being chased by a serial killer,” you argue back, your phone now buzzing in your hand. 

This Jungkook guy laughs a bit, a soft smile growing on his face, “I’m Jungkook,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“And I’m running late,” you point to your continually buzzing phone. You can tell it’s not the answer he wants, but you walk away before he can get that answer. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you walk away to answer the phone. You can feel his eyes still on you and his scent fulfilling your nose. It smells clean, musky, and like amber. It smells dangerous. 

⏤

Carbone was easily one of the best spots in the city. The Italian cuisine was to-die for and with the way your stomach was growling—the thought of their vodka sauce penne was literally making you horny. In record time, you managed to rush home and throw yourself together a little more decently. Your hair was pretty greasy so you ended up throwing it up into a clip hoping that no one would notice. You’re playing with your so-called slut strands aimlessly as you stand outside of the restaurant waiting on your company. It isn’t much longer until you hear your named being called a little ways away. You look up from your phone, a smile beginning to grow on your face.

“Hey babe,” your smile only grows as your boyfriend approaches you. He himself begins to smile as he fully approaches you, engulfing you into a large bear hug. 

“I missed you,” he breathes heavily into your neck before he pulls away, “You look nice,” he holds both of your hands and looks down your frame. You glance down at your simple tank and loose-navy trousers. The navy somewhat clashes with his black suit, but it didn’t bother you none. 

“Thank you, missed you too,” you respond, “Shall we?” 

He nods once, giving you a look of longing before pulling you inside behind him. 

“Reservations for Kim Taehyung,” he smiles charmingly to the hostess. She seems awestricken by him as she fumbles around with the menus behind the podium. Once she realizes—or chooses to notice—you standing close with Taehyung, hand in his, her gaze immediately drops to her feet as she walks the two of you to the table. It’s a smaller two-seated table outside on their exquisite patio, twinkle lights tastefully lighting up around you and a small candle lit between you two. It’s still not quite spring so they have some outdoor space heaters which is nice on your exposed arms. The slight chill doesn’t bother you though. Your only focus is on Taehyung. 

Kim Taehyung. How could you even describe Kim Taehyung? 

As the two of you sit here now, him 27, you 24, you can’t believe how long it’s already been. You were naive and 20 when you first crossed paths with Taehyung. A mutual friend introduced the two of you at another friend’s birthday at the time. It was at some swanky bar in the fanciest part of the city and to your broke, aspiring starving artist kind; it seemed magical. 

There was an immediate attraction to each other that both of you seemed to recognize. His strong features and sexy smirk had you pulled in the moment he opened his mouth. His looks were one thing, but once you got to know him for him, you were sure you had found your soulmate. He was charming, funny, smart, and a hell of a lot different than you. But you liked that. You had been around the mismatched artist-type your entire life—you craved something different. And he gave you that every time, even now 4 years later. 

“How was your day?” You’re the one to ask first as the waitress ends up pouring out glasses of Chardonnay for the both of you. Taehyung always orders a bottle, citing glasses were the cheap way out. 

He takes a sip before he speaks, “Pretty good. I think we’re finally getting close to a deal on my biggest client which will leave me a lot less stressful once that sorts itself out.” 

Taehyung works in finance—specifically in private equity. When the two of you first met, he was a first-year hustling investment banker who worked long hours with high compensation for a 23 year old. Now, he works a little less hours with even higher compensation. One way that you two are similar is that you both like chaos—chaos that just manifests itself into different ways. Chaos for you comes in forms of paint, sketches, and a messy workspace. Chaos for Taehyung is working long, demanding hours, numbers, and making 50 year olds seem less experienced than him.

“You made it out of the office before seven tonight, that’s always a good thing,” you take a sip of your wine, hiding the scrunch on your face as best as you can. This Chardonnay was particularly dry and not quite what you thought you needed. A martini sounds real good about now. 

“How was your Friday babe?” He asks with genuine curiosity. If there was one flaw about you is that whenever Taehyung would go off the deep end in explaining his private equity and venture capital deals, you somewhat zoned out. Him on the other hand, always seemed intrigued about your endeavors as a struggling artists. Perhaps you should work on your listening skills now that you think about it. 

You’re about to answer until the waitress comes back to take your orders. You settle on the vodka penne, Taehyung gets cacio-e-pepe, and you two get a Caesar to split. Before you realize it, you’re adding in a martini to the bill. Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you as the waitress leaves. 

“Bad day?” He asks. 

You have to laugh, leaning back into your seat some. “It was fine, it’s just,” you pause somewhat frustrated now that you’ve had a couple hours to marinate Seokjin’s words.

“Seokjin has just been hard on me lately and it’s kind of exhausting,” you breathe out heavily. 

“Isn’t he always an asshole?” He raises a brow, leaning back in his seat to match your stance. His eyes don’t leave you as you command his full attention. 

You half-laugh again, “It’s like he thinks I can just shit out new pieces every week. It’s not like every morning I wake up with a new idea that's riveting enough to turn into something.” 

“I’m sure you’ve produced good things recently—you’re too hard on yourself Y/N,” he says, you assume trying to comfort or validate you in someway. It doesn’t work. 

“What you think is good, isn’t what I, or Seokjin, or art critics may think is good,” you say stubbornly. 

“Babe you really shouldn’t care about what those people think,” he says just as your martini arrives. You take quite a big gulp, a chill running down your spine. But it’s good, and needed. 

“That’s easy for you to say.” 

You don’t expect Taehyung to understand your perception of what you’ve always thought you career would be. Taehyung’s career was set for him the moment he walked across the graduation stage. There need be no inspiration or motivation for the work he does. He shows up, gets tasks and deals to negotiate, plugs and chugs numbers, and does it all over again. There’s no downtime in his field. 

When it comes to art—there’s too much downtime. Too much time to overthink and drown into your thoughts. It’s easy to become miserable and wallow in self-pity as an artist. You don’t know why or where this rut came from, but you hoped that something would inspire you fast. Seokjin was right—you really didn’t have much time to begin putting together your exhibition pieces. 

“I deal with people all the time who hate me and my colleagues—that doesn’t mean I don’t show up for the meetings. You’re going to deal with people who don’t like you but you still gotta get your shit done either way,” he shrugs and it’s like he caught what he said just in time before you could snap back at him—“Baby you know that’s not what I mean,” he suddenly leans forward and grabs one of your hands on the table. 

You try to get past his last comment—as if he was implying you weren’t doing your job—relaxing as soon as his warm touch gets to you. 

Perhaps one of the bigger flaws in your relationship with Taehyung is that sometimes he just doesn't get it. He can get very wrapped up into his world, unable to find a place of empathy for you and your craft. Sometimes, it feels like you're standing in a crowded room screaming yet no one turns around to see where the ruckus is coming from.

“I know,” you answer simply and luckily, your dinner arrives cutting the conversation at that. 

As you two eat together, catching up on other mindless topics, and enjoying each other’s company, it makes your heart yearn for so much more with him. You’ve only had one serious boyfriend before Taehyung in high school which probably doesn’t even count at this point and only dating a couple guys casually before you ended up meeting the man across the table. He was edging 30, you nearing 25. You glance down at your ring finger, wanting nothing more than truly make that next step in your relationship. You two had talked about it many times and you were sure he wanted to marry you—you just didn’t know what he was waiting on. 

Thankfully, you’re feeling a little less anxious now that you’ve ate a good meal and had some alcohol—not enough to where you’re drunk—but enough to feel a little buzz. After Taehyung’s paid (you’ve run your time trying to pay—also given Taehyung’s salary versus yours, it was sort of a given who would pay at fancy restaurants). 

The two of you are walking around the semi-hustling streets, hand in hand as you’re making way back to his apartment. Friday’s were routine the two of you. Given his hectic schedule, the weekends are where you two found solace. There was the occasional mid-week lunch if he was on your side of the city where the university was, but Friday’s had been particular your days for years now. You loved your little routine together. 

Taehyung has managed to pull you towards the city’s main river to a popular tourist watch site. On the weekends, there were the occasional events and water shows. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights, but there are a couple street vendors set up around the area. From the corner of your eye, you spot a vendor selling cotton candy and before Taehyung can stop you, you’re pulling him to the sweet treat. You settle on sharing a stick of the pink and cottony sugar as you take a sit down on the side of the river, trying to keep some distance from others. 

You sit on the step below Taehyung, settling between his legs as you eat the candy in a comfortable silence. He offers you the last little piece but you shake your head, leaning back into his chest more. He glad eats it and then wraps his arms around your front, instantly warming you from the outside in. 

“You chilly babe?” He asks and you shrug a little. You were a little chilly now, but he was keeping you warm enough. Given how he just knows you though, he ends up shrugging off his perfectly tailored suit jacket and draping it over your front. You give him a small kiss beneath his chin as a thank you. 

“This is nice,” you say lowly, the sound of the running river and carb-loaded tummy making you a little sleepy. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, settling his chin on top of your head, “You know I’ve been thinking recently..” 

Thought he can’t see your face from this angle, your eyes slightly widen and your heart rate picks up significantly. Unsure of what to say, you make a noise that resembles a “hm?” Could it be? 

“I know that both of our leases are ending soon,” he pauses, leaning back some. You take it to turn your body some to face him, a soft expression crossing your features. “I was thinking we should move in together.” 

While your heart semi-strains painfully given it’s not what you thought he was going to say. But hey—he wants to live together! That’s the second biggest step before getting engaged, right? 

“You want to live together?” You repeat his statement to make sure you heard it clearly. 

He gives you a small smirk, “Isn’t that what I just said?” He giggles, “I’d just figured we already stay at each others places on the weekends… and if we lived together we would definitely see each other more often.” 

He’s right. You think about waking up and going to bed with Taehyung everyday. You think about making coffee for each other and eating dinner together every night. You think about lazy morning-before-work sex and heavy, steamy sex in a shared bathroom. It seems perfect. You’re nodding before you even say yes.

“Yes, yes, of course!” You say enthusiastically, throwing your arms around him awkwardly. He laughs in content, holding you close as you both continue to watch the river. While it’s not what you were expecting, perhaps it was the final stepping stone until the relationship was to be taken further. 

⏤

“I feel like tangerine is the superior shade of orange, right?” 

You laugh a little as you take a step back from the canvas, looking over your shoulder to meet Sana’s gaze. She’s got a serious expression crossing her brows as she inspects your canvas and the orange color you’ve just slapped onto it. 

“I prefer marmalade,” you respond sarcastically with a half-smile, justifying your color choice on the canvas. She tilts her head slightly, sitting back in the barstool type chair she’s in. She was much more the charming artist type than you. Perhaps it’s one of the reasons you two got along so well—you couldn’t be anything more than polar opposites. You were laid back and didn’t think about your work too much, whereas your best friend from undergrad went through every detail imaginable before her brush hit a canvas. 

“I actually don’t give a shit about the orange,” she then says with a short laugh, “Y/N, what are you doing?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, setting down your palette on the work table beside you. “What do you mean?” 

She looks around your studio, the sun shining brightly thanks to the large windows on the back wall. You can tell she’s quickly inspecting every piece that you have finished up against the far wall opposite of you two. It’s only 3 pieces, but you can tell she’s about to rip them apart. 

“It’s just,” she pauses to meet your gaze again, "I feel like there's no emotion in these pieces, it's all just the same in different fonts...” 

You have a sudden open pit in your stomach, getting flashbacks from being in Seokjin’s office last week. You knew that she meant well—but like you said, she was the much more serious art type. She could read art better than anyone else you knew and to hear those words from her? It stung. 

“Because there isn't," you chuckle, "I’m just in a funk,” you say, not even attempting to try to argue with her. For the past couple months, every stroke of your brushes have felt like a chore. Every sketch of a pencil felt like someone had a gun to your head, threatening you to draw or otherwise the trigger would be pulled. 

“Isn’t your exhibition soon?,” she asks it like a warning but you’ve already heard that siren. “Is everything good with you?” 

“I’m fine,” you say straight-lipped, “Just uninspired.” 

She raises an eyebrow at you, “Taehyung not dicking you down right?” 

You roll your eyes, a small laugh emitting from you, “Trust me, that’s not the problem.”

Taehyung was great in bed—a gentle lover with rough hands. It would probably surprise people to know that you were the more dominant one in the bedroom. 

She looks as if she doesn’t believe you, but she lets it slide knowing your sex life is none of her business. 

“And he still hasn’t put a ring on it?” She glances down at your hands, which you shyly shove into the pockets of your jeans. 

“You'd be the first to know Sana," you tell her pointedly, "Also what's the rush?” you say, a half lie on your part. Maybe no rush on his part, but you were feening for that commitment from Taehyung. “He actually wants us to find a place together.” You make sure to add, given it makes your heart feel a little better. 

“Hm,” she pauses and you give her an odd look.

"What's that for?" you ask her, crossing your arms over your chest.

She shakes her head, "I just want you to be happy Y/N... I'm sure moving in together will be exciting," you can tell there's something else she's not saying. You can probably guess as to what she wants to say but you push it from your mind. God forbid she’s been the one on the other end of your drunken-crying nights, saying how much you wanted to spend more time with him and marry him. “Are you excited?”

You nod before you speak, “Of course,” you say, “I’ll just be happy to spend more time with him.” 

“I can’t believe he’s still in his soulless finance grind after all these years,” she exhales heavily with a shake of her head. You honestly couldn’t believe it either—but he loved his work. Sometimes you’d argue more than he loved anything else—including you. 

“Whatever makes him happy, makes me happy,” is what you leave it at. You didn’t want to have the same conversation with her again. 

“Well,” she pauses, “I gotta run, but enjoy your lunch,” she motions to the bag of food she so graciously brought you on her own lunch break. Given she works at an art studio in the city as an art preserver, her hours are much more flexible than yours. 

“Thank you,” you give her a quick hug, inhaling her sweet, floral scent. She’s always had that sort of nostalgic smell to her. One of those smells that you can’t pinpoint where you’ve smelt it before, but it makes you smile. Perhaps it just reminds me of sleepless nights in the dorm you two shared freshman year, watching endless drama's and Magic Mike nights.

“Are you gonna come to dinner with everyone tomorrow?” 

“I’ll try to make it,” you answer, “Depends how long I’m stuck here,” you speak with your arms in reference to your working studio. 

“You better be there,” she warns, “You haven’t seen Jimin and everyone in forever.” 

“I’ll try,” you repeat with a genuine smile, “Thanks for lunch again.” 

She gives you a kiss on the cheek, “Of course. Text me if you need anything,” 

You watch her frame as she walks out of your studio, your shoulders sinking in relief. You loved Sana, you really did, but the last thing you need is another person down your throat about your art. You were in a stupid, uninspired, funk but it will eventually go away. Even if you have to claw your way to finishing pieces for the exhibit—they will get done. You weren’t the type to just give up and throw in the towel. 

You haven’t even realized you’ve completely zoned out until you hear footsteps coming into your studio. When you fixate on who is hesitantly standing toward the door, a confused expression crosses your face. 

“Jungkook?” 

“I’m late?” He jokes, retorting your smart ass comment from the other day. You can’t help but laugh some as he approaches you. He’s curiously looking around your working space with wide doe eyes. “The lighting is great in here,” he comments. 

“I held Seokijn at gunpoint for this room,” you attempt to make a joke. He giggles so you’re satisfied. You’ve only been in class with him once since his first day last week. From what you’ve distantly observed about this Jungkook guy, it’s that he’s quiet and reserved, but quite talented. Seokjin must be feeling very sorry for you given he hasn’t needed you in class the past few days. That, or he’s just pissed that you haven’t done shit and it’s him telling you to get the hint.

“Everything good?” You ask him to break the silence, trying to be a “teacherly” as you could. Perhaps he had a question that Seokjin wasn’t available to answer. Or needed to know where certain pigments were. Or just needed a second opinion on a piece he’s started. Jungkook has made his way over to you, leaning at the table where Sana was just sat. 

“Seokjin needs you to work the afternoon class by yourself,” he explains and you’re a little confused. 

“Okay…?” You trail off, looking at him curiously. He’s dressed in a large short sleeve shirt, baggy jeans, and a slick pair of Nike’s. As he crosses his arms over his chest, you take quick notice of an array of tattoos covering his right forearm. It makes something deep within you stir. 

“Is he busy? Did he send you to tell me or something?” You ask. 

He’s staring at you intently with purpose. You’re suddenly insecure under his gaze, knowing you cannot possibly look put together with your hair thrown up and smudged glasses. 

“I volunteered,” he shrugged, his eyes looking over to the current painting you’re working on. It’s not too large of a canvas, so it sits on your large easel with ease. His words make you stir again. “This is a nice color,” he compliments. 

You laugh out of your nose, “It’s shit.” 

You can feel his eyes on your profile as you look at the painting. The orange you’ve laid down is only the base color and you don’t even know what you’re going to turn it into.

“Do you specialize in realism?” He asks you, again with a burning curiosity in his tone. This is the most you’ve heard him speak since he’s showed up. His voice is soft and smooth like honey, unlike Taehyung’s where—

“Yes,” you cut your thoughts off. 

“Me too,” he responds as your gaze meets his. You give him a small smile in unity. You’ve nearly forgotten lunch that Sana has brought you until a grumble goes through your stomach. You cross your arms over your stomach, feeling embarrassed under his gaze. 

“See you this afternoon?” He says, getting the signal for him to let you have your lunch break. 

“Will do,” you nod, “Thanks for letting me know.” 

He pushes off the table, “Of course.” 

His gaze breaks from yours as he walks away from you and your workspace. Just as he is about to walk out, you stop him. 

“It’s Y/N by the way,” you call out formally. He stops in his tracks, halfway turning to you again with a subtle smirk on his face. 

“I know.” And like that, he’s left. Something even deeper inside you not only stirs, but intensely electrifies you. You’re devouring your salad before you can let any other thoughts consume your brain. 

⏤

“Cheers!” Jimin is smiling eagerly as you all hold your shot glasses up in the center of the table. You all down, up, down the shots of soju before you quickly tip them back. It burns going down your throat, but it felt too good. Sana was right—it had been way too long since you’ve been able to catch up with everyone. Sana sits to your left, Jimin across from you, Hoseok to your right, Jennie beside Jimin, and Namjoon at the head of the table. 

“Never gets easier,” Hoseok makes a face as he quickly takes a sip of his soda for a chaser. You tease him by bumping his side, going back to eating the meat in front of you. Jimin was at the helm of cooking the meats and as always, did a fabulous job. 

The Korean BBQ place wasn’t too far from your studio apartment and the university. It was yummy, cheap, and some of your friend’s favorite. It was a no brainer for all of you to meet up here after a long day. Thankfully you were able to finish your work early today, but only because once again, nothing of substance was spawning on your canvas. 

“Namjoon,” Sana says, “When are you leaving for New York?” 

“Next week,” he says as he sips on his light colored beer. 

“Oh! Taehyung’s going this weekend,” you add into the conversation.

“Work trip?” He asks you, nodding in confirmation. It wasn’t anything new—Taehyung made bi-monthly trips to Wall Street. “If he’s staying long enough we’ll have to get a beer together,” he says. 

“I’ll ask him for you,” you smile, though it fades away quickly. You felt that twang in your chest when you thought about Taehyung leaving for work trips. Not because you didn’t trust him—you just missed him. Then again, he’s building a life of security for the two of you, so you couldn’t blame him too much. 

“How’s the apprenticeship going Y/N?” Jennie asks you as the others talk amongst themselves. 

“It’s going,” you try to sound light-hearted and that it’s actually not killing you. “I’m done after this semester,” you add. 

She nods—Jennie worked in social media for a fashion company. She was creative for sure—but not to the level of you and Sana. The three of you had known each other the longest, the other three boys tagging along as the college years went by. 

“Are you going to free-lance after?” She asks. As much as you know she doesn’t mean harm—any question about the future makes you anxious. You had no idea what you were planning on doing after your apprenticeship was up. You were just hoping working under Kim Seokjin would stick out enough on your resume that something would fall into your lap. With your parents consistently down your throat, something had to fall into your lap. Hell, you would even pull the nepotism card if you had to.

“We’ll see,” you shrug as you continue to eat your food. You were feeling a little bit of a buzz at this point and you knew that you should probably slow down on the drinks. 

The six of you all continue talking amongst yourselves aimlessly. You find yourself zoning in and out as you continue to think about Seokjin, your art, Taehyung, moving in together—your brain was cloudy and you felt stuffy. Something’s gotta give soon or you were sure you were going to explode. You didn’t understand—you have a good life, a good boyfriend, a talent not many people possess, fun friends—you didn’t know what was wrong with you. 

You end up excusing yourself, the alcohol inside you making you need some some fresh air. You try to ignore everyone’s concerned glances coming your way as you stand. You take your phone and head towards the front door. As you push the door open, the chilly spring air feels divine on your skin.

Deciding to get out of sight of your friends given the large glass windows, you make your way to the side of the restaurant, where an alley separates it from another small business. Luckily the area was safe, with no alley being too dimly lit to make you uncomfortable. 

As you round the corner, the smell of cigarettes fill your nostrils and you’re stopping dead in your tracks. Leaned up against the side of the restaurant, scrolling through a phone, and a cigarette hanging from their lips—is Jeon Jungkook. 

“Jungkook?” His name slips from your lips before you can stop it. He quickly responds by looking up from his device, looking somewhat startled. He looks panicked as he quickly removes the cigarette from his mouth, about to let it drop to the ground before he drops it. 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” you shake your head as you slowly step towards him, “My mom smokes when she paints.” 

He raises his eyebrows at you slowly putting the cigarette back between his lips, “Is she an artist too?” 

He’s wearing slim-fitted jeans and a multiple colored pullover, with a prominent shade of orange through the middle. It reminds you of the conversation you had with Sana yesterday. His hair is tousled a little, but still fairly straight and dark. He plays with his lip ring until you answer him.

“Both my parents are,” you respond, settling against the building opposite of him. He’s already got a few inches on you, but with his fancy tennis shoes, it gives him even more height. 

“That’s gotta be rough,” he laughs while blowing out smoke away from your direction. 

You laugh with him, settling for a short nod, “What about your parents?” 

He hesitates before taking another drag, “My dad is in banking, my mom stays at home.” While he’s answered your question, he doesn’t seem enthusiastic about it. You wonder what type of banking his father is into, so you ask him. 

“Investment and private banking,” is what he says. Your boyfriend’s face flashes into your head, but for whatever reason, you don’t mention him to Jungkook. He’s practically your student—he doesn’t have to know every detail about your life. 

“Does he enjoy it?”

He quickly shakes his head, “He’s been miserable for as long as I can remember, my mom even more so,” he says it like it’s a joke, but it makes something in your chest squeezes tightly, your mouth dries up, and your hands go clammy. Though he doesn’t voice it, he senses a demeanor change so he offers you a drag from his cigarette. 

You don’t hesitate to say yes as he passes you the little nicotine stick. Your fingers brush against his when he passes it off to you. Again, you have to ignore whatever is stirring deep within you. As you inhale the smoke, your head buzzes even further, settling your worries the tiniest bit. There’s no way that would become you and Taehyung. No way. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“Meeting some friends for drinks,” he explains, “But everyone’s late, as usual,” he laughs. 

“I hate when people are late,” you mutter, taking another drag of the cigarette. Jungkook agrees with you, asking what you’re doing here. “I’m with a few friends, we haven’t all been able to see each other much recently.” 

You reach out to give him back his cigarette but he shakes his head, “It’s yours,” his eyes have a glimmer in them that’s innocent but provocative all at the same time. 

“Thanks,” you say and nearly rolling your eyes at how much you probably look like your mother right now. You wouldn’t really take that as a compliment. 

“You did well teaching yesterday,” he completely does a 180 on the subject, but the praise makes you smile at him. Positive reinforcement—works every time. 

You thank him again, “I was actually pretty nervous.” 

“I don’t think any of us would have thought that,” he pauses, examining your face closely, “Have you thought about teaching when you’re done under Seokjin?” 

You shake your head, “Not really,” the cigarette is down to the butt so you throw it out, stepping on it with your white tennis shoe. 

“Maybe you should,” he says it with a genuine tone it almost makes you think it’s something you should consider. 

“I feel like this is you trying to take my job,” you raise your eyebrow at him and he only smirks through his laugh. Under the dim lighting, it really does excentuate how attractive he is. 

“Is it that obvious?” He cocks his head to the side quickly, glancing down your front in the process. You know absolutely nothing about this man except his dad is an investment banker and he’s Seokjin’s student. Despite that, you feel too comfortable with him and you know you shouldn’t. Goddamn; you were sure you were losing it at this point. 

You’re about to say something else before your phone vibrates continuously in your back pocket. You pull it out of your trousers, cursing under your breath when you see Sana’s name pull up on the screen. 

“Hey! Are you still here?” You can tell she’s still inside the restaurant given the commotion in the back. She also sounds even more drunk than when you left her. As much as you love your friends, you knew that going back inside was not what you needed. Jungkook watches you intensely, but you can’t keep his gaze continuously. 

“I uh,” you pause trying to think on your feet, “I actually wasn’t feeling too well so I ended up leaving.. would you kill me if I just sent you a Venmo for my food?” 

“Oh! Are you okay?! Of course I don’t care! Did you get a ride home?” 

You answer all of her questions in order quickly, wanting to get off the phone before she actually realized you were still there, just standing outside in the alley with your “student.”

“Text me when you make it home!” Is the last thing she says. 

After you hang up, Jungkook is still looking at you curiously. 

“Ditching you friends?” 

“My social meter has about run out… I need to head home anyways,” you trail off, leaning back against the wall behind you. 

“Do you live around here?” He mirrors your actions, leaning back and watching you. His gaze follows you like the Mona Lisa. You settle with the fact you don’t mind. His eyes look like they hold stars and you’ve always liked stargazing. 

“Yeah, not too far from here,” you say. 

“I’ll walk you home then.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, protesting heavily, “No, no it’s all good I promise! Your friends are waiting for you.” 

He’s suddenly giving you a smile where one side of his lips tug upwards before he’s biting his lip ring again. You don’t know why but you like that too. 

“Lucky for you, my social meter has run out too.” 

⏤

You know that having Jungkook walk you home would probably look extremely bad to someone if they knew the situation. Jeon Jungkook, senior art student for Kim Seokjin, and you, apprentice for Kim Seokjin, walking you home alone on a Thursday evening. It wasn’t that you thought he was attractive that it would look bad—that could be kept secret—more so just the power dynamic may look bad. The two of you have been talking aimlessly about random things, nothing too deep, until he says—

“How’d you get into art?” He asks as he walks beside you, about 6 inches separating you two. “I know you said your parents were artists, but why’d you follow the same path?” 

It’s a question you’ve pondered yourself many times as of recent. You wonder if Jeon Jungkook can read your mind. 

“I guess it’s just that,” you half-laugh, “It’s just something I naturally picked up so young and as I got older I just wanted to learn more mediums, create more, perfect the craft…” you trail off, still unsure if you’ve answered his question. He looks at you as you walk, but you’re looking forward so you don’t notice. 

“What did you start with?” You know exactly what he means. 

“Well like most kids I started with crayons and watercolor,” you pause and he nods in agreement, “Everything really changed for me though when I started doing realism through pencil and charcoal work when I was like twelve, which eventually moved on to painting.” 

He hums like he finds this information fascinating. Even if he doesn’t, it makes you feel like you’re being heard. It’s hard for non-art friends to understand the process of moving from one thing to the next, your brain constantly trying to find something new to work with. 

“Funny, you and I must have been on parallel paths,” he says it like its a joke and you end up smiling. 

“Where are you from?” You turn your head up to ask him. You find his eyes already looking at you. 

“Busan, just by the sea.” 

“And that’s where our paths are different,” you’re nudging his arm with your elbow before you realize it and you immediately regret it, pulling away quickly. It’s a habit you have when you’re talking to someone you’re comfortable with, specifically Taehyung. 

"Did you move here just for school then?" you ask him curiously.

He shakes his head, "No my family and I moved here when I was quite young, due to my dad's job," he explains.

"What do your parents think about you being an artist?"

The older you got, the less of a choice you felt like you had in terms of your career and path with your parents consistently down your throat. You'd love to know what it was like to actually choose this path of constant praise and validation.

"My mom is very easy going... she doesn't have much of an opinion about it," he pauses, moving closer to you slightly to dodge a pothole, "It's definitely not what my father would have chosen for me, but since my older brother went to school for business, I think it's lessened the blow for me," he laughs.

You decide right here that you think Jungkook's smile is probably the most beautiful you've ever seen. You don't even realize how long you've been staring at him in silence until his eyes meet yours again.

You clear your throat, “You really didn’t have to walk me home.” 

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pullover, “It’s no big deal, I don’t live too far from here either.” 

“Do you live alone?” You don’t know why you’re asking such personal questions. 

“Yeah, just got my own place actually..” He says it with a faint smile. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” not for long. But again, you don’t mention it. 

“I’ll have to come see it one day,” you’re positive he’s not even sure what he’s said. Given how he said it so nonchalantly and natural though, tells you differently. You’re stunned to speak for a moment, until you finally find your voice that comes through like a weakened child. 

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate given my relationship to you,” you try to make your answer seem cool and collected. You think it comes across this way and you hope he thinks it came across that way. 

“Aren’t we friends?” He muses, something hidden behind his tone. 

“Are we?” You retort. What do you mean, is his next question. “We’ve just met as of last week and I don’t know much about you…” 

Again, he looks at you cheekily as you turn left down the street that leads to your apartment complex. 

“That can be easily changed.” 

At this point, you’re sure he’s flirting with you. Flirting with his goddamn teaching apprentice assistant. You have to shoot it down—fast. You don’t like how the idea of another man flirting with you makes you feel—mainly because it’s not a negative feeling. 

“I’m just up here,” you motion toward the large complex you live in. It’s a nice, private community that luckily you can afford on your apprenticeship salary. Your parents will help you from time to time which is something you can’t complain about, but for the most part, it’s just you and your gray tabby—Sushi. 

“Thanks for walking me home again,” is what you say as he leads you up to the main entrance. 

“No problem,” he responds as he stops walking as you continue forward up the short set of stairs. You turn around, looking down at him two steps up from him. The wind is blowing some, his hair looking soft and touchable. Tuggable, even. 

“Sorry if I took you from your friends,” you don’t know why but you can’t find it in yourself to walk away from him just yet. You’re unsure the last time a stranger was this nice to you. Despite your first two crashing meetings, Jeon Jungkook seems like a genuine soul. 

“Back at you,” he nods before his chest rises slowly, his gaze not leaving yours, “I enjoyed this more.” 

A faint smile spreads across your lips, unable to hide it. You don’t even want to hide it. He’s been so nice to you that it makes you feel giddy on the inside. It’s reminiscent of when you had your first date with Taehyung. The single thought of him, drains all emotion from your face when you realize what you’ve just thought. 

You need to leave. 

“I’ll see you around,” you finally murk up the courage to dissolve this evening, “Thank you again, Jungkook.” 

He holds your gaze, a glimmer in his eyes as they reflect in the street light. Definitely looks like stars.

 “Anytime.” 

⏤

Unlike most Fridays, this one had your mood shifted in the dumps. Straying from your normal routine, Taehyung’s flight for New York was leaving this evening. You hadn’t even seen him since last weekend, but you tried your well not to dwell too much. This was just another part of your routine together. He would be back before you knew it. 

You are currently sat with a few of the students outside on a coffee break of your own, them on lunch break. There was a large section of the rooftop that was flat with tables and extravagant plants along the sides of the roof. It was probably the most peaceful and serene part of this entire side of the university.

You’re sat with Jisoo, Lisa, Yugyeom, and Jungkook around a circular table. The weather is getting so nice and the sun’s vitamin D feels too good against your skin. You’re sat sideways in the chair, your legs hanging off one side of armrests, an iced coffee balancing in your lap. Despite you being older than all the students here, a one year difference truly isn’t anything. Sometimes you still felt like you were in university when hanging out with all of them. 

“How’s your exhibition pieces going Y/N?” Yugyeom is the one who asks the question. You’ve taken notice him and Jungkook have become good buddies in a short amount of time. You can feel the latter’s eyes on you, but you intentionally ignore him. 

“Awful,” you don’t even attempt to sugar coat it. You know that they’ve probably heard Seokjin’s scoldings recently. 

“Really? But your winter exhibition pieces were so good,” Lisa pipes in. Your stomach sinks and you wish you could curl into yourself even more. 

“I thought so too,” Jungkook’s voice suddenly appears and you turn your gaze to him. He’s sat to your left, but Jisoo is in between you two. 

“How’d you see them?” You don’t mean it to come off harsh, but given he’s transferred here in the middle of the semester, there’s no way he could have seen them. 

“I was in Park Kihyun’s department before I switched to Seokjin’s,” he says, leaning back into his chair as he sips on what looks to be banana milk. Today he’s wearing an all black ensemble of a black t-shirt and baggy black sweatpants. 

You make a noise of understanding. That makes much more sense. Park Kihyun was another highly respected artist and professor at the university. Probably even more than Kim Seokjin. He was head of the honors department of the university which is a cult of its own. You were talented as hell, but not even Kihyun would consider you for the honors program, let alone an apprenticeship. He was by far the hardest professor you ever, ever had which is why you only took one class from him. You learned your lesson fast. Though it’s quite impressive to hear Jungkook was in his department. You wonder why he switched, but you probably already know too much about Jungkook, so you leave it. 

“I’m sure everything will work out Y/N,” Lisa gives you a reassuring smile from across the table. 

“It’s just a funk, I’ll break out of it,” you shrug your shoulders. At this point, you’re hoping if you say it out loud enough, that the funk will indeed be broken. 

More talk occurs between everyone, though Jungkook doesn’t say much. When he does speak, he contributes a funny joke here and there. He’s deliberate with what he says and you understand that. One of your better traits is that you don’t act out of pure emotion. You want what you say to matter and no get lost in translation. Perhaps another parallel between you and Jungkook. 

“Y/N!” Someone bellows from behind you, “You’ve got a visitor!” 

Your eyebrows furrow as you swing your legs down, to turn around to see who is your so-called visitor. You put a hand up above your brows, to close out the sun. When your vision focuses, your heart swells at the sight. It also lurches with anxiety. 

“Taehyung?” You ask him as he’s approaching you with a bag of food from what looks to be your favorite sushi restaurant down the street, “You didn’t tell me you were coming.” 

You stand to meet him once he approaches the table. You can feel everyone’s eyes burning holes in you. Everyone here knows you have a boyfriend, having seen Taehyung many times. All except one. 

“I wanted to surprise you before I left,” he sets your food down on the table before waving to everyone, “Hey guys.” 

Everyone doesn’t miss a beat in greeting Taehyung before he turns back to you, pulling you in for a hug. He places a kiss on your temple gently just as you meet Jungkook’s eyes from your stance. He watches you curiously before they flick to Taehyung, his tongue playing with his lip ring. 

“My coworkers and I decided to get lunch on this side of town and I wanted to bring you some,” he says while looking down at you. Of course he’s dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit and shined shoes, his hair a little slicked back today. You would love nothing more than to hop onto a plane with him to NYC, but unfortunately investment bankers don’t get plus ones on business trips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you’re speaking in a lower register, hoping that your lunch group’s own conversations drown out yours. 

“I wanted to,” he smiles, one hand squeezing your waist in reassurance, “Listen um, my trip may be a little longer than I expected,” his voice is low and deep, hesitant even. 

Your heart feels like it clenches in your chest and you’re sure whatever color was in your face is gone. So this is why he wanted to come see you. 

“How much longer?” You whisper, trying to keep your composure. You’re sure you can feel a certain someone’s eyes on you, but you can’t look at anyone but Taehyung. 

“Maybe two weeks, max,” he says quickly and trying to remove any doubts from you. You look down at your feet for a split second before you glance back up. 

“That’s okay,” you grimace, knowing you can’t control it so why is there reason to be upset? “Namjoon’s gonna be there… you guys should meet up.” 

He nods with a small smile, his eyes searching yours deeply. He knows you and he knows that you’re not happy right now, but Taehyung had no choice. Work calls and work calls hard and fast. You both knew that. He gives you another temple kiss, this one a little longing. 

“I love you,” he says, giving you a hug. You don’t even care to be embarrassed of PDA in front of the others. This was your boyfriend of years—you could hug him in public if you wanted. 

“I love you too,” you pause, “Have a safe flight.” 

Taehyung speaks to the rest of the gang for a couple moments. He’s only asking how everyone is since he recognizes everyone, even if he can’t remember everyone’s names exactly. 

“I don’t think we’ve met?” Taehyung questions the dark haired boy a couple feet from him. 

“I’m Jungkook,” he says, his voice slightly cold, “I just transferred into this department.” 

You watch the interaction carefully, your palms sweaty and your heart rate up. You can’t pinpoint why you feel nervous like this in front of Jungkook. More specifically, in front of Jungkook with Taehyung right here. You were sure if Taehyung knew Jungkook walked you home last night he would have been thankful, but another part of you thinks it would have made him pissed, given you weren’t with him at the restaurant to begin with. 

“Nice to meet you,” Taehyung smiles before glancing at his watch, “Alright, I gotta run babe. I’ll text you when I get to the airport.” 

You tell him okay before he pecks you on the lips, leaving swiftly after. Jungkook looks away, a hand of his finding its way to the back of his head to scratch it awkwardly. You seem to be stuck in place, unable to sit back down until Lisa grabs your attention. As much as you appreciated the sushi, the last thing you felt like doing was eating. 

As you sit down, Lisa asks if everything’s okay. You don’t miss a beat when you say yes, shrugging off your apparent sadness. Your eyes meet Jungkook’s briefly and you can tell he doesn’t see through your bullshit. You can’t tell if it makes you uncomfortable or if you’re grateful for it.

⏤

Your phone dings, prompting you to set down your pencil. You open the a text from Taehyung, smiling down at your phone. When you expand the photo, it’s a picture of Namjoon with Taehyung holding a beer out in front of him. It’s clearly from last night, given it is early morning in New York now, but still charms you. Namjoon worked as a writer for an art magazine—hence why he traveled the most of all of your friends. From Paris to NYC to Amsterdam—Namjoon has been there, done that. 

You respond with a simple Miss you❤️

It’s been a few days since he left now and thankfully, he’s been pretty responsive and active on his phone. In the past, some of his work trips have been so busy there were days in which the two of you wouldn’t talk at all. 

You stretch your legs out on the small sofa you have in your workspace. You grab your sketch book from your lap, tending back to what you were drawing. You liked doing pencil work in between the major pieces that would actually be submitted for galleries and exhibitions. 

“You’re still here?” 

A voice startles you, jumping slightly in your position. You crane your neck to the door where you find Jungkook has made his way into your space. Given you had the door open and Jungkook has become a good acquaintance to you, you don’t mind—but a knock would have been nice. 

You glance down at your watch. It’s almost 8 PM, the light outside barely poking through the darkness now. You honestly hadn’t even noticed. You stayed cooped up in your work space pretty much all day. 

“And you’re still here?” You retort, watching as Jungkook saunters over towards you. He looks tired, his bag looking a hundred pounds on his shoulder. You scrunch up your legs to give him a signal he can sit if he wants. You notice he has on black converse, matching the ones on your feet. You’ve always liked when guys wear converse, though you know Taehyung wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them. 

He lets out a deep sigh as he plops down on the small couch. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a yawn. You have to fight your own as you watch him. 

“Long day?” You ask him. 

He nods slowly, “I was nearly finished with the piece I’ve been working on but I wasn’t paying attention and ended up streaking my canvas.” he explains.

"Aren't those just happy little accidents?" you quirk an eyebrow and he lets out a deep laugh.

“Seokjin made me start over, so no," when his eyes meet yours, you catch your breath.

You scrunch your nose up, “Sounds like Seokjin,” you give him half a laugh. 

“Why are you still here?” 

You look around the now dimly lit room, with a shrug. You picked up a paint brush for 10 minutes four hours ago. You had no idea why you were still here. 

“Lost track of time,” you shut your sketch book, stretching your arms slightly. “Is anyone else here?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Not that I’ve seen,” he pauses, “This feels like the start to a horror movie.” 

You laugh with a sputtering of your lips. Jungkook made a good point. A late Wednesday evening, two people alone in a huge university hall, pretty much all lights killed, and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It was the perfect storm. 

“As long as we’re both virgins, we should be safe right?” You raise an eyebrow at him, a joking tone to your voice. Luckily, he understands your reference as he laughs with a side smirk. 

“Totally,” he licks his lips which you watch shamelessly, but quickly looking away not wanting him to see you stare. “Need a walking buddy home?” Is his next question. 

As much as you should refuse, given the time and proximity of your and Jungkook’s apartment from the school, it only makes sense. It’s not long after you’ve gathered your things that you and Jungkook are locking up your studio, headed towards the direction of your apartment. 

The entire walk is peaceful and comfortable. You walk with your hands shoved into your sweatpants pockets, Jungkook mirroring you, keeping a good distance between you two. You talk about random things, with each conversation flowing easier than others. You feel as if Jungkook is quickly moving from student acquaintance to actual friend. You were friends with most of the people in the classes you assisted, but you had never interacted with them as much as you had Jungkook. He just always seemed to be there—though you didn’t mind his company at all. 

You’re currently laughing at something he’s said about a childhood story about him and his brother. You now know the reason for the faint scar on the left side of cheek. You would have never taken Jungkook as a competitive person, but getting to know him a little more day by day, he most definitely is. 

The two of you have almost made it to your apartment complex when sudden, heavy raindrops begin to fall from the sky. 

“Shit,” you mutter as you two have taken brief cover under a business awning. 

“C’mon,” Jungkook encourages with a short laugh, grabbing your forearm to pull you behind him. It’s hard to keep up with his quick steps, but you manage. 

While you two ended up at your complex entrance faster than you would have at your previous pace—you both are still soaked. The rain has also chilled the air, sending a shiver down your spine. Jungkook is muttering something about how Busan has always had much better weather when you get a full look at him. His hair is wet and flat to his head, but he’s pushing his fringe back to expose his forehead. His white t-shirt sticks to his chest, his silver chain grabbing the light. You gulp, a familiar stir in your tummy. 

“Do you want to come up and dry your things? Or a least grab an Uber or something to get to your place?” You’re mouth is offering the words before you can think about them. Fuck—that was stupid. 

As Jungkook looks down at your frame, he’s contemplating your offer, but then says—“No, no it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” 

You counter, “No please, I definitely have sweatshirts big enough for you.” 

He looks back out at the rain that has only seemingly got worse. He lets out an exhale before nodding, thanking you in the process. 

Once you cross the threshold of your apartment, you instantly feel warmer but also more claustrophobic. This had to have been a horrible mistake. Your apartment was your safe haven—with very few people ever getting the chance to see your space. Taehyung and Sana were the only regulars in your home. You’re hyper aware glancing around the kitchen room and living room area, thanking yourself for cleaning up last night. Jungkook has already witnessed how much of a mess your art is, the last thing you need is for him to think your home is a mess too. 

You excuse yourself to retrieve a sweatshirt for him and a new t-shirt for you to throw on. After you change, you nearly stop in your tracks when Jungkook is pulling the wet t-shirt off his frame. His back is to you, but god—it’s a hot back. His frame isn’t that big, but he’s got defined muscles well, everywhere. 

You approach him slowly, alerting him that you have a sweatshirt for him. The two of you trade items of clothing, gaze holding anywhere but him. Luckily for him, you pretty much only bought sweatshirts double your size, so the Nirvana sweatshirt fit over his frame nicely. 

“Your place is nice,” he comments as you throw his t-shirt into your dryer. 

“Thanks,” you give him a smile when you walk back into your kitchen. He’s sat at one of your barstools, watching your frame intently as you rummage through a cabinet above your microwave. Your eyes widen at the sight, stomach grumbling the process. You hadn’t ate in hours and you were sure you could eat a horse at this point. 

“Do you want one?” You look over your shoulder as you stand on your tip-toes to pull down an instant ramen cup. 

“Was my hunger that obvious?” He laughs and you roll your eyes, grabbing him a cup too. You whip up both of your instant ramens in less than 5 minutes, handing him a pair of chopsticks when you’re finished. 

As you’re about to rip open the flavor packet and squeeze it in like your normally would, Jungkook’s method has you stopping in your tracks. He’s got the flavor packet carefully tucked between his teeth, a chopstick on either side of the packet pushing out every drop of the sauce you could possibly get. 

“That’s fucking genius,” you marvel at him, mouth still slightly agape. “Did you come up with that?” 

He laughs, his nose scrunching up in the process, “Probably not, but I’ll pretend I did just for that reaction.” 

You ask him to help you, knowing that you will now be using this ramen hack till the day you die. He carefully tears a small rip the packet for you, telling you to take the corner between your teeth. You follow suit with the chopsticks and you’re simply amazed again as you watch the flavoring all dump into the noodles—none of it wasted. 

He laughs at you as you continue to rave about the genius of this ramen hack, questioning whether or not Namjoon knows about it given he’s the smartest person you know—even though he has no idea who Namjoon is. Then suddenly, Jungkook jumps slightly in the barstool, looking down at his legs. 

“You okay?” You ask with concern as you put your chopsticks down. 

At Jungkook’s feet is a little grey tabby cat—a little chubby, but cute as hell—staring up at him as it rubs its head against his ankle. 

“I see you have a cat,” he comments, looking down at it with an endearing expression. 

“Oh! Yeah,” you pause, taking a couple steps around the kitchen island to see him, “His name is Sushi…” you trail off, not believing the sight in front of you, “And he seems to like you?” 

“Hi Sushi,” he says with a mouthful of noodles before he swallows. It's cute. “Does he not like people?” 

“He usually just doesn’t like men,” you watch in awe as Sushi then lays down right at Jungkook’s feet, continuing to stare up at him. “He’s just gotten to where he can stand Taehyung, and I’ve had him for two years.” 

You don’t know why you tense up when you mention your boyfriend. Maybe it’s because you know Jungkook probably shouldn’t be in your apartment. Maybe it’s where Jungkook’s presence makes you feel nervous, yet a little too comfortable. He doesn’t know you as a friend who’s been in a serious relationship her entire 20’s. He knows you as the friend who happens to be his teacher’s apprentice. 

Jungkook though, uses this as a window of opportunity. 

“How long have you two been together?” He chooses his words carefully, not wanting to come off too strong or curious—though he absolutely was. After your boyfriend had come visit you last week, he had an array of questions.

You take a deep breath in and out, leaning against the counter, “Almost five years.” 

“Damn,” is what he says after a moment of silence, “That’s half a decade.” 

You laugh at his comment, “Sounds longer when you put it like that.” 

He finishes his ramen, “Thanks again,” he says as you take his chopsticks and stick them in the dishwasher. You then turn your back to throw away the cup. “How’d you meet him?” 

You pause momentarily as you open the cabinet where your trash can resides, clearing your throat, “Through mutual friends.”

You turn around and Jungkook nods knowingly, taking another glance around your apartment. Your apartment is decorated simply, but he can read the flares of a scatter brained artist easily. You have olive green cabinets, a cream sectional sofa with mismatched colored pillows, a funky shaped coffee table that’s a pink marble, and a corner of your living room that’s a bit of a clutter with art supplies. It makes him smile inwardly, as he has a similar clutter up in his own living room. 

You watch him as he studies your apartment carefully. Deep down, you hope that he likes it. After all, it wouldn’t be much longer that this space wouldn’t be yours anymore. As his eyes come back to the kitchen, something in particular catches his eye. You can pick up on it, giving the widening of his pupils and straightening of his posture. 

“You got tickets Yayoi Kusama’s exhibit?” His says almost stunned. You follow his eyes over to the small bulletin board you have hung up in your kitchen. You stick important reminders and other tasks for you on it, but what Jungkook is looking at are two tickets tacked the board. 

“Yeah, Taehyung got them for my birthday.” 

Your heart sinks as the words leave your mouth. You couldn’t’ even imaged what Taehyung paid for the tickets, but he knew once he realized the exhibit was coming to the city, he had to get them for you. The two of you were going to go together, making an entire planned Saturday around the exhibit. Now, those plans were shot out the window given he was going to be in New York until next week. 

“Shit, I can’t imagine what he paid for them,” he seems to be speaking his thoughts, which coincidentally match your own. “You’ll have to take pictures, I’ve always wanted to see it.” 

As your shoulders fall, eyes looking down at your ring finger again—an awful habit you need to break. 

“I’m not going anymore.” 

“Wait, why not?” His voice is rushed and confused. It’s just then when your dryer dings, signaling his shirt is now done. You give him a small smile as you leave to retrieve it, hurrying back the kitchen. 

“Taehyung’s still on a business trip, he won’t be back until next week,” you explain as you fold his shirt with crisp, clean lines. You slide the fabric over to him, his hand brushing yours as he grabs it hesitantly. 

“You should still go,” he says, leaning on his elbows. His gaze his heavy, but he’s mesmerizing so you can’t look away. 

You start to shake your head, “It’s alright,” you say with a half laugh, trying to make it seem as if it doesn’t bother you. 

Jungkook perhaps regrets his next words and how fast he says them but—“I’ll go with you.” 

Your mouth slightly parts, unsure of what to say. If you acted on emotions all the time, you would have jumped to say yes, of course! But as your boyfriend’s face flashes across your eyelids every time you blink, you hesitate to answer. 

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have,” he laughs, breaking the awkward tension in the room, but as you glance at the tickets again—you know you can’t say no to him. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” you smile at him softly; the kind of smile that girls give Jungkook that drives him crazy. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Jungkook is good a reading people—which scares you. Jungkook can sense every change in people’s breath, demeanor, and language. You’re sure he could read how you fell sad thinking about not going to the exhibit, but you also didn’t want him to tag along out of pity for you. 

“If you want to go, I want to,” he pauses, leaning towards you from across where you stand. “If you don’t, then I don’t,” it’s almost a challenge coming from his lips. He chews on his lips ring as he waits for your answer. 

After a few moments of debating internally, “I’ll let you know,” is what you leave it at. Jungkook seems satisfied with your answer, not pressuring you any further to give in to his proposition. Jungkook goes in an Uber soon after since the rain has not given up. Sushi meows as he leaves, even allowing Jungkook to hold him for some quick cuddles. Once he’s gone, the only traces of him left are his faded scent in your sweatshirt and his number in your phone. 

⏤

It’s now Saturday, you and Jungkook standing in line for Kusama’s exhibit. He met you here about thirty minutes ago and luckily both of you didn’t arrive any later. The line was moving fast, but the amount of people that’s accumulated behind you goes on for what seems like a mile. 

It was quite warm today, opting to wear a white, polka dotted midi-dress and a pair of high top converse. Your hair was down and a bit messy, curls from the other day having fallen slightly. A compliment was the first thing that left Jungkook’s mouth when he saw you. You absolutely hate the bubbly feeling his gaze and words leave in your stomach. It’s reminiscent of how Taehyung left you when you first met. You know you should ignore it, but it’s so hard when he’s standing there looking like that—seemingly always saying the right things. 

Today, he’s dressed casually in a pair of baggy jeans that you’ve seen him wear before, a yellow t-shirt, and a black bucket hat. You can’t help but glance down at his tattooed arm every once in a while. You think about how you’d love to hear the stories behind them all. You also think about how is pain tolerance must be insanely high, given his shirtless escapade at your place, you noticed how the tattoos traveled all the way up to his right shoulder 

After both of your tickets are scanned and a map of the exhibit is given to him, he opens it, his eyes scanning over the paper quickly. 

“Where should we go first?” He asks as he lean over to peak at what’s to see. Unlike most art galleries which are quiet, this one has softer music accompanying each room, making it less awkward to talk if need be. 

“This one,” you point to the biggest, most famous room that you’ve heard all about. It’s a dark room, with intricate lights throughout. You hoped that pictures you’ve seen of it we’re only doing it half-justice. 

He laughs a deep rumble from his chest, “Shouldn’t we do that one last?” He looks down at you with a small smirk on his face. 

You furrow your eyebrows, “No, it’s the most famous one, don’t you want to see it?” 

His smirk spreads to a smile, “I know that,” he pauses, “Let’s do that one last so we have something to look forward to, and maybe there won’t be as many people in there by the time we get to it.” 

Okay, you think, fair point. 

The two of you settle on starting at the All the Eternal l Love I Have for the Pumpkins. As soon as you walk into the room, you are completely in awe at the magnificent work. Despite it being mid spring, the “pumpkins” on display along with fall-oriented music in the background, makes you desperately wish for the cooler weather of October. Jungkook is fascinated too as his eyes only get bigger as he takes in each and every detail. 

The two of you make your way around the exhibit slowly, having to wait for some of the rooms to open since the gallery is quite crowded. The next room you go into is called Dots Obsession—Love Transformed into Dots. It’s got a pink hue to it, large white balls with black dots on them. 

“I think you stole her idea,” Jungkook comments as you take pictures, his eyes scanning down your dress. You flip him off, which he responds with a laugh. 

Phalli’s Field is the next room. Unlike the previous rooms, this one is bright with what looks like a field of while, red-dot phallic shaped objects. Jungkook ends up taking a mirror selfie of you two in this room and you make a mental note to ask him to send it to you later. 

The next one is called Love Forever, another dark room with a changing light color pattern that’s abstract in nature. This one makes you think of Taehyung and rightfully so. You know that he would have enjoyed this, given that he likes art that’s stimulating and not “boring”—his words, not yours. You snap a picture of this one for him, hoping that he’ll like it and the name. 

The second to last one is called Aftermath of Obliteration of Eternity. 

“Jesus,” you say after you read the name of it, “Realist much?” 

Jungkook laughs as he follows you into the room. It’s dark again, with twinkling yellow colored lights filling the space. It reminds you of a fire. The yellow flickers to a slight orange shade every millisecond, giving off a summery feel. It makes you think of your childhood, when your parents would take you to the beach and roast marshmallows over an open fire. The thought makes you a little sad, knowing that those times would never come back. That was before you knew about loss of innocence and the high standards of your parents that would come. 

Finally after a couple hours of diving into each room, along with reading each story behind the pieces, you reach the room that you’ve been itching to get to all day. You’re welcomed into the room and an immediate gasp leaves your lips. 

“Wow,” you whisper as you take a big glance around. 

“Holy shit,” Jungkook says behind you just as the door is closed. You realize that it’s just the two of you here in. He definitely made the right call about waiting. 

The Souls of Million Of Light Years Away is simply breathtaking. It’s dark again, but this time with what looks like actually a million lights twinkling in all different forms of colors and shapes. Each light bounces off the mirrors and you imagine this is what being in space is like. A dark void with a million galaxies around you. It’s oddly peaceful even though you can barely see your hands in front of you or Jungkook behind you. You don’t notice, but Jungkook quickly snaps a photo of you in the light, your silhouette showing up with the millions of lights behind you. He’s smiling at his phone when you turn around, and you ask him what’s up. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, “This is just amazing.” 

You hum in agreement, not wanting to leave the room. As you find Jungkook’s eyes, another tiny gasp leaves your lips. If you weren’t confident enough before, you’re sure that his eyes are made of stars now. The light bounces off his brown, doe eyes, blending into the gallery seamlessly. He licks his lips before he asks if you’re ready to go. Hesitantly, you slowly nod, your feet heavy as you leave the room and follow him out. 

When you make it back outside, it’s still light outside which makes both of your eyes sensitive since you’ve just spent a little over two hours in the dark. Since the exhibit was on the opposite side of the city, both of you opt to take the subway back towards your respectable apartments. Both of you are sat together at the back of the car, looking through your pictures again, marveling at the exhibit. 

“Thanks for coming with me,” you say with a smile. You’re sitting at the window seat, your body turned to Jungkook. He’s slightly turned towards you too, one of his legs curled under his body. 

“I kind of invited myself,” he chuckles, leaning onto his hand that’s support his head. 

“And I accepted your invitation,” you retort, “Taehyung would have loved it,” you add, a little bit of sadness to your tone. 

Jungkook watches you intently as you break away your gaze, to stare at the rumbling floor of the subway car. He’s chewing on his lip ring again, a habit he can’t break ever since he got it pierced months ago. He doesn’t know anything about your relationship with this Taehyung guy, but he senses that something is off. Anytime you’ve spoken about him, your eyes drift off and your attitude shifts. He can’t help but be more curious. 

“What does Taehyung do?” 

“He works in finance,” you say, “Private equity.” 

Jungkook nods slowly as he receives this information, knowing exactly what you’re saying. His own parents relationship flashes in his mind and it suddenly clicks for him. Long hours in the office, holding out for the weekends—which even then aren’t guaranteed, high stress levels. That type of financial work is no joke—it takes a toll not only on the person doing it, but everyone around them. His heart suddenly feels for you and for a brief moment he feels as if he is talking to his mother. 

He suddenly wonders why a person like you, would be with a guy like that. You have so much light and fireworks within you, he doesn’t know why you would subject yourself to a relationship that’s seemingly all black and white. People like his father and Taehyung see the world in black and white. You and Jungkook see the world in vibrant color.

“I’m assuming he stays quite busy then,” Jungkook’s words are calm; understanding even. 

You give him a tight lipped smile before you nod, “I’m sure you know.” 

His eyes study your face closely, “As long as he makes time though, it’s all that matters,” he pauses briefly, “That’s just always been the issue with my parents.” 

He doesn’t know why he’s saying what he’s saying. Internally maybe he sympathizes with you? Wants to make you feel less alone? Whatever it is, he doesn’t like how your demeanor completely changes when your boyfriend is mentioned. It’s like you’re the flame of a candle and when Taehyung is mentioned, you’re blown out. 

Though Jungkook’s words are sweet and genuine, you can't help but still feel bitterness towards Taehyung right now. 

“Clearly makes time,” you chuckle sarcastically with an eye roll, before you realize what you’re actually saying. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be ranting to you about my boyfriend,” quickly covering your tracks with another laugh, this one lighthearted. 

“Isn’t that what friends do?” He nudges your leg with his own, covering any of his own transgressions towards your boyfriend smoothly, “Listen to other friends rant about their boyfriends?” 

You smile at him before looking up at the subway to car to see how much longer you have until your stop. You’ve still got 10 minutes. 

“Are you telling me there’s a boyfriend I haven’t heard you rant about?” You raise a brow at him attempting to make a joke with him. 

He chuckles, “I don’t discriminate,” he says pointedly, “But no, no one to complain about at the moment.” 

“That’s a little surprising to me,” you tell him honestly. He makes a humming noise in question, “I mean you’re funny, talented, attractive—“ you stop yourself, your heart twisting embarrassingly at your words. 

A playful smile crosses his lips, “Don’t inflate my ego too much Y/N.” 

You immediately shove him playfully telling him to shut up underneath your breath, “You know what I mean though.” 

His eyes look away from you as he looks to the front of the subway car. An exhale leaves his lips, shrugging his shoulders, “I dated a girl for a couple years but we broke up last semester,” he explains. 

You’re friends with Jungkook, so you don’t mind asking your question. “What happened?” 

He purses his lips in contemplation, his lip ring catches the reflection of the moving train, “I think I was more serious about the relationship than she was,” he clears his throat and you shuffle a little awkwardly in your seat, “I think we just wanted different things at the end of the day. It’s hard to make something like that work long term, you know?” 

His words send your heart rate skyrocketing and you can’t help but ask yourself if that’s the situation you and Taehyung are in. Though you and Taehyung have voiced a life together—actions speak louder than words. You look up again. Five minutes. 

You nod in response, unable to form any words. 

“It’s fine though,” he says, “Everything happens for a reason.” 

“Yeah, including meeting a guy who knocked me on my ass the first two times I met him,” you say jokingly, though you mean every word. You’re sure Jungkook was placed in your life for a reason; like a blossoming star in the galaxy burning bright to light up a universe. 

“You actually knocked me on my ass one of those times.” 

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “That was all dramatics Jeon Jungkook, I can see right through you.” 

He smirks with playful eyes, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“I don’t know… is it?” Subconsciously, you bite your lip under his gaze. It drives Jungkook nuts. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you with soft eyes, “You tell me.” 

His gaze his heavy and there’s palpable tension between you two as the train comes to a slow. Thank god. 

 “This is my stop,” you announce. 

“I can walk with you if you want?” He offers, not wanting to leave you alone if you really don’t want to be alone. 

You shake your head softly since it’s still light outside, “I’m alright, thank you though.” 

He nods, not pushing you any farther. After the train stills fully, he stands up to let you through. Your chest brushes against his as you shimmy between him and the seats behind you. Unable to look away from him as you maneuver, you feel the tension increase with no space between you two. God, why does he have to look at you that way?

“Let me know when you get home,” he says as you get by him. You nod, waving him a final goodbye, a familiar heaviness in the bottom of your stomach. 

It takes about seven minutes to reach your complex from the subway station and as you’re walking into the main lobby, your phone pings. 

[Jeon Jungkook 5:23 PM] image.png

The image takes a moment to load, but a smile spreads across your face when you open it. The mirror selfie is cute as hell and it almost looks couple-ly. Jungkook is standing behind you, his arm thrown around your shoulder as you lean into him. You’re soft smiling into the camera, a peace sign in your left hand. You save the image to your camera roll immediately. 

[You 5:25 PM] Thank you :) I just got home btw! 

He sends a thumbs up, before another picture is sent through. This one loads faster since you’ve just walked into your apartment and his words leave you feeling like something is clogging your windpipe. 

It’s a picture that you had no idea he took of you—though you can’t really see any details of yourself, it’s stunning picture. Your silhouette in the dark with the surrounding lights is simply beautiful. 

[Jungkook 5:27 PM] I think you’re beautiful enough to fit into that exhibit 

[You 5:27 PM] You too

Yeah, you’re fucked.

⏤

For anyone else it was just another Monday, but for you—there had been a new page turned. You have no idea what conspired in your brain from Saturday to now, nevertheless something changed. Well, there had been a couple changes since then, however you’re trying to not focus on that. 

You woke up early this Monday with an itchiness to your body. You ended up going to a spin class at 6 AM, before hurrying to shower and getting to the university by 7:30. Before you could rethink your decision, you were throwing out every piece of artwork that you had finished in the last two months. A part of you was already regretting trashing the canvases as you hauled them overhead into the large dumpster bins. The major part of you felt relief and a sense of newness—for the first time in months, you felt inspired. 

The only way you knew you could take advantage of this newfound creative impulse, was to rid yourself of anything holding you back. That meant getting rid of the shit pieces you thought you would submit for the exhibition. 

You manically texted Sana a picture of your now empty studio and she responded immediately. 

[Sana 8:17 AM] what the actual fuck did you just do

[Sana 8:17 AM] Y/N it’s literally 8 AM are you okay 

You can’t help but laugh at her words as you sit in the floor of your workspace, typing a response quickly. 

[You 8:18 AM] A new me has awakened… that or I’m just very sleep deprived and acting out

[Sana 8:20 AM] i think it could be the latter

[Sana 8:20 AM] where has this new me come from? 

You purse your lips, trying to block out the scene from your brain. 

[You 8:21 AM] My therapist lol 

You know that’s not it, at least not all the way. Sure talking to her was always a highlight of your week when you did, finding a new perspective on your childhood and need for outside validation—but that was another story for a different day. A new wave of emotions—confusing, chest-tightening emotions have crawled through your veins in the last two days. Even if you know it’s so wrong—you’re holding onto them for the sake of the exhibit and your own sanity. 

It’s not long after when you pick out a new, clean fresh canvas for you to work on. You set it up on one of your larger easels, facing it towards the sunlight as best as you can. You decide to take a page from Sana’s book by creating a rough sketch of what you want to eventually put on the canvas. The ideas in your head are so particular, and so—heart wrenching—you wanted to ensure you translated it well. 

It takes about an hour to sketch the rough outline for the painting. You knew that painting this first piece would probably take a few days if you were consistent with it, wanting to add as much detail as possible. Realism was your speciality, but it never gets any easier. The slightest mistake can make a face, or hands, go from looking like a photograph to a cartoon character. You didn’t know what you wanted to call the piece yet, though you had a few ideas rummaging through your brain. 

Seokjin is calling you in for his 11 AM sketch class which you help with regularly. As you leave the serenity of your workspace, sudden anxiety fills your body. Your hands are clammy, your throat feels as if it’s constricting on itself, and your tummy is doing flips. Seeing him is the last thing you need, but you know his schedule very well at this point. 

A week ago, you wouldn’t have cared. Now, you feel as if an invisible line as been crossed.

As you step into the classroom, your mouth goes dry. Jungkook is sat in the middle of the classroom beside Lisa, both of them looking a little tired and chatting randomly. 

Seokjin looks at you with a small smile, “You were here early this morning,” he comments. 

You give him a smile back, hoping he doesn’t murder you after you say your next words, “I threw out my pieces.” 

His face drops, all color leaving it, “You did what?” He looks stunned as you grimace at him with an apologetic look on your face. He glances down at his watch which says it’s now exactly 11 before he says under his breath, “We’ll talk about this later.” 

It sounds threatening, but you know if you explain yourself well enough—he’ll let it slide. After all, he clearly wasn’t a fan of what you presented to him recently. You’ll prove to him that you’re new stuff will be ready for the exhibition, and more importantly—present a much better side of your art. 

“I hope everyone had a good weekend,” Seokjin greets everyone, with a few tired responses back. “Just a reminder for all of you participating in the exhibition, your pieces will be due at the end of this month, so make sure you’re staying on top of your deadlines.” 

You zone out of Seokjin’s housekeeping information for the class, letting your eyes wander around the classroom. Sketching was one of his larger classes, with students in other departments also taking the class as an elective. It was personally one of your favorite classes in undergrad. You were happy to help this class, given you felt you could actually help the students if they needed it. 

A breath hitches in the back of your throat when your gaze meets Jungkook’s from the front of the classroom. He’s staring at you with purpose, though his gaze soft and curious. You hadn’t spoken to him since your last text after the art exhibition. That wasn’t the plan, but given your mind wandering to places it shouldn’t have, you felt if you did talk to him—he would see right through you. 

You quickly break his eyes, unable to hold it without feeling too hot. 

A fucking sex dream. 

A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook. 

A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook who happens to be your subordinate. 

A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook who happens to be your subordinate in which you woke up in a panic, then having to use your vibrator to release the tension in your tummy. 

A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook who happens to be your subordinate in which you woke up in a panic, then having to use your vibrator to release the tension in your tummy—all while you have a boyfriend who’s away on a work trip. 

You’re unsure if you have ever had a dream so realistic and so blissful—even with Taehyung. Every time you closed your eyes since Saturday, all you could see was Jungkook’s face buried in between your thighs, your back arching off whatever surface you resided. 

You force yourself to stop thinking about it—you’re in the classroom for fucksakes. The last thing you need is for people to notice you squeezing your thighs together under the desk you’re sat.

“Y/N, are you good with that?” 

“Hm?” You mumble, realizing you’ve daydreamed through whatever Seokjin just explained. 

He looks annoyed as he lets out a deep breath, “Being the hand model today?” 

Your eyes widen, your mouth parting as you look down at your hands. Thankfully you got a manicure last week, though the almond acrylics have already grown out some. Even though Seokjin was posing everything as a question, you knew you had no choice. Especially if you didn’t want him on your ass about throwing out your paintings, you really had no choice. 

You nod slowly, Seokjin soon setting up the projector and camera for you to place your hands under. 

“Take as long as you need, turn in your sketches here,” Seokjin taps the corner of the large desk you’re sat at. 

You’re given free rein on how you position your hands, so you settle on something feminine and simple. You lay your left hand over your right delicately, your right palm flat against the wood. You feel a little insecure with your hands being projected as 10x the size above your head, but you relax knowing it’s just what you artists do. If you were in the students position, you would have much rather sketched your hands than the one time Seokjin made you all sketch someone’s feet one time in undergrad. 

The classroom stays pretty much silent, pencils and erasers against paper the only sound radiating. Time goes by slowly as they all continue to sketch, your eyes having not really left anything in close proximity to you. 

That changes when you hear a throat clearing, a tone you could pick out in a crowd. 

“Do you care to move your left hand a little forward, Y/N?” 

Jungkook’s voice is smooth through the silence. Instinctively, your eyes meet his again. You give him a nod as you reposition your hands slightly. It takes him a moment to get back to drawing, his gaze heavy on your eyes. You have to break away, your thighs itching for more relief. You look down at your hands, wondering how they would look around his cock. You imagine he’s thick, veiny—stop it, you idiot!

Whatever was going on in your head, it needed to be stopped and fast. You just didn’t know if you actually wanted it to. 

⏤

Taehyung comes back Friday morning, giving you a call as soon as he lands. You’re finishing up the piece you started on Monday when your phone rings. 

“Hi baby,” Taehyung greets you and you can hear a smile in his tone. It makes you smile in return. “Happy Friday,” he says knowingly.

“Happy Friday to you,” you respond, taking solace on your small couch for a small break. “You just land?” 

“About an hour ago, just got into my ride, heading to the office,” he explains. 

“You just got back from a two week trip and they’re making you go in office?” You ask him with confusion lacing your tone. You had no idea how he kept up with the demands of his job—if anything, the older you two get, you feel sorry for him. You knew he loved his job, but goddamn—it has to be too much sometimes? 

“Only working a half day today,” he pauses, “When do you finish today?” He asks eagerly. 

“Hmm,” you look at your watch, a nice gold piece of jewelry Taehyung actually got you a couple years ago for Christmas, “I’ll probably leave around three today.” 

“I’ll come to your place then,” he says, a particularly suggestive tone to his voice. You find yourself smiling as you relax into the couch some, letting out a deep sigh. “Roses and a bottle of champagne included,” he adds. 

“No need for all that,” you bite your lip in anticipation, “Unless we’re celebrating something?” 

“Lots to celebrate baby,” he says, “You and I have a fancy date tomorrow.” 

“Do we?” You press, chewing on some skin around your thumb nail but quickly stop, not wanting to ruin your cuticles. You then bring your left hand up, staring at your ring finger. 

“Oh yes,” he says hurriedly, “Listen I’m about to go into the office, but I’ll give you more details when I come over okay? Love you.” 

“I love you too,” you say before he’s ending the call. While your heart swells at the thought of “celebrating,” something, you can’t help but be a little skeptical. The rush in Taehyung’s tone shows there’s something he’s nervous about, but you take it as a good thing. Nervous about proposing? You could only hope. 

The rest of the afternoon you finish up your painting, a relieved sigh coming from your lips as you sign the bottom right corner with your initials. It’s just how you imagined it—the bubbles leaving the girl’s mouth and nose as she screams under the water, her hands clawing for the surface, but the weight of a cinderblock tied to her ankle sinking her down in an abyss of dark water. 

You settle on calling it Drowning for the Sake of Drowning. 

⏤

As you’re gathering up your belongings to get ready to leave, you exhale in relief. You’ve kept the door to your workspace closed all week unlike usual, indicating for no one to bother you. Sana brought you lunch a couple days ago but aside from that, little to no interaction has occurred with anyone. 

You’ve managed to fully avoid Jungkook this entire week after the sketching class on Monday—which is exactly what you’ve needed. The boy with the lip piercing has taken up too much space in your brain recently. You like having Jungkook as a friend, but that’s all he can ever be and until your brain can separate that and whatever feelings you’ve garnered for him over the last few weeks, avoiding him like the plague is your only solution. 

Of course, nothing in your life ever goes to plan which is why you nearly knock yourself over when you run right into him as you leave your office. 

“Shit, you okay? We really have to stop doing this,” He asks you with a slight laugh. It takes you a moment to nod in response as you stare up at him with parted lips. Any progress you’ve made of pushing him out of your mind, crumbling entirely. He’s in your brain again, his face in your thighs, hands gripping your hips—

“You’re leaving already?” He asks as he observes your tote bag held tight to you, the door to your space closed. 

You clear your throat while simultaneously clearing your head, “Y-yeah, I finished my piece early,” you pause, debating if you should say your next sentence, but you know morally you should, “Taehyung came back today.”

Jungkook stiffens, scratching the back of his head, “Can we talk?” His voice is timid, but stern in what he wants. 

If you hadn’t thought about your answer, you probably would have gladly invited him back into your workspace and god knows what would have happened. 

“I can’t right now,” you say, “I’m meeting Taehyung around three,” you explain, your feet picking yourself up to brush past him. It’s close to 2:45, which means you don’t have much time to get home. 

Jungkook startles you when he grabs your forearm to stop you, “Y/N, wait,” his voice is rushed and desperate as he turns his body to face you, you pressed flush against his chest. You jerk out of his grip, taking steps backwards. 

“Jungkook,” you say warningly, “I can’t do this right now,” your voice is weak and unconvincing as you turn around, rushing away from him. 

Jungkook decides on letting you go giving a frustrated tug on his hair as he watches your frame disappear down the hallway. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, kicking the closest wall to him, ignoring any pain that shoots up from his foot. 

⏤

You’re standing in front of your large mirror, examining your dress to ensure it’s smooth in all the right places. It’s a silk midi-dress that’s a light sage green color complimenting your skin tone beautifully. There’s small, tasteful cutouts on the side that leads it to an open back. 

“Wow baby,” Taehyung gives you a pretty smile as he enters your bedroom, “You look great.” 

You’re in the process of lacing up your heels around your ankle, throwing him a small smile. 

“Thank you, you look handsome.” 

He’s wearing another one of his immaculately tailored suits, though he’s ditched a tie and vest, opting for a more casual look—well casual for him being that it’s a work-sponsored party. 

Turns out, the big fancy date Taehyung referred to yesterday was an invite only company party at Taehyung’s boss’s, boss’s, boss’s estate. While it wasn’t a typical Saturday night for you two, with a chance to dress up with free food and booze, it was something you couldn’t say no to. (Even if you wanted to say no—you really had no choice—you were there to support Taehyung.)

“Will you help me with this?” You ask him as you hold up a necklace. He obliges, stepping towards you, he gently grabs the necklace ensuring any stray hair pieces were out of the way as he encircles to clasp it around your neck. Once he’s finished, he wraps two strong arms around your front, pulling you flesh against his front. 

“You smell good,” he inhales your scent as he nuzzles into your neck, pressing his hips into your backside. 

“Taehyung,” you laugh, fighting away from his grip, “Our ride is almost here,” you turn around giving him a pointed look. He pouts with a groan, but you give him a quick peck to wipe the sour look off his face. 

The estate is about thirty minutes outside the city and being in such a fancy car with a driver, you already feel slightly uncomfortable. One of the reasons you were attracted to Taehyung was because of how different he was from you and your upbringing. You felt as if you desperately craved something different from what your parents had. You liked the idea of simplicity—black and white. No chaotic artsy types. However, as the car continues its drive to the fanciest suburb of the city, you can’t help but feel the differences swallowing you whole. 

Taehyung’s busy on his phone seeming to be answering emails—yes, at 8 PM on a Saturday night. Your foot is tapping nervously against the floor, an uneasy feeling settling again in your tummy. Ever since Taehyung showed up at your apartment yesterday—a man of his words—with roses and champagne, something deep within you felt off. Flashes of another set of brown eyes strike across your lids each time you close them. 

You obviously hadn’t had sex since Taehyung had been gone, almost a three week dry spell, and it was just… okay. You found it hard to relax the minute Taehyung initiated it, your muscles tense as he undressed you slowly wanting to make love to you after one glass of champagne. Maybe it’s where Taehyung is still keeping secret on whatever you two are supposed to be celebrating or it’s Jeon Jungkook himself—your body physically wouldn’t let you come in Taehyung’s presence. Two rounds of sex ended with you having to use your vibrator to finally get off and the third round this morning, you ending up faking an orgasm—something you haven’t done in years. 

The driver is in queue for drop off service, letting you and Taehyung out as soon as he could. You eyes are marveling at the sheer size of the home. It almost makes you sick when you think about people having this much money. There’s not one, not two—but three fountains just at the front of the house. Two are positioned beside the large entrance and the third is in the middle of the circled driveway. 

From what you can tell, there are a good amount of people inside already, the large windows indicating that. 

“Whose house this again?” You say in awe as Taehyung grabs your hand. 

“The President of our company,” he says, keeping his voice low as other people are walking in around you. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself when you cross the threshold, immediately greeted with flutes of champagne. 

Taehyung smiles down at you as he takes a sip, “Get used to it baby,” he comments with a light-hearted tone, but you know he’s being serious. You don’t like it. 

The inside of the home is just as lavish as it looks from the outside. It’s modern, with clean lines and sharp contrasts of whites, creams, browns, and blacks. The large foyer is an open concept, the house opening up in multiple ways. There’s two staircases that lead to the upstairs, corridors that lead elsewhere to the left and right, and if you continue straight, that’s where the main party seems to be. The living room is large and open, warm ambient lighting filling the space. There’s a 70’s inspired conversational pit with a large plush couch that’s the center of the room. It’s absolutely stunning. 

You two haven’t been in the house for two minutes until his coworkers and others are coming up to greet Taehyung. He introduces you with a big smile, holding you by the waist as he does so. You sense you’re one of the younger ones of the groups you go around to, sometimes forgetting that Taehyung has almost four years on you. His words come naturally to him and you try your best to converse with people and their plus ones—but you find it hard, unable to find any common ground with anyone. 

Taehyung is talking to one of his closet coworkers that you’ve met many times—Jaebum—before the latter’s eyes widen. 

“Shit Tae, there he is,” he speaks lowly, his head directing what he’s referring to. 

“Who?” You ask curiously, looking around to find someone special but everyone seems to look the same. Clean cut, nice suits, hot women and men as their dates, a few children even running around freely. 

“The President,” Taehyung explains, “Shit and he’s coming over here with Minwoo,” he sounds nervous, Jaebum visibly shifting his weight in his shoes. Minwoo was Taehyung’s boss—luckily you remember that from previous work tangents. 

As Minwoo and the president approaches the small group of you three, you suddenly feel a little insecure when Taehyung takes a step away from you. A large smile spreads across his face as they approach and your feet hurt a little more now that he’s not letting you lean on him. Is he ashamed of you? Why did he step away? 

“Kim Taehyung, Lim Jaebum, the two greatest assets to my team,” Minwoo smiles widely as he enters your circle. 

“Minwoo, how are you?” Taehyung reaches out to give him a handshake, then bowing to the President. 

“Can’t complain about anything,” Minwoo has a great smile, “Who is this beautiful lady?” His eyes have gravitated to you. 

“This is Y/N,” Taehyung introduces you with a nervousness to his tone, “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Nice to meet both of you,” you smile with a small bow of respect. 

“These are the two I’ve heard so much about, eh?” The President speaks with a cadence that sounds familiar but you can’t place your tongue on it. 

“Like I said, the very best in the Seoul office,” he smiles, “Have either of you met President Jeon?”

It’s as if your entire world shuts down instantaneously. It can’t be—there’s no way. 

“I can’t say we’ve ever had the pleasure sir,” Jaebum nudges Taehyung and suddenly you have never felt more uncomfortable, more out of place, than ever. 

They all speak briefly before suddenly, President Jeon’s attention is set on you. As you study his face, you feel your nightmare coming true. Finance, the eye shape, the nose—

“So what do you do Miss Y/N? Are you involved in business too?” He asks with a smile, though you’re unsure if it’s just a facade. 

You’re nervous to answer, but you finally muster to shake your head, “No sir,” you start, “I’m an artist, I’m under apprenticeship with someone right now.”

His eyes suddenly light up, “Really? Which artist do you work with?” He sounds fascinated and you hate where you think this may be going. 

“Kim Seokjin, I’m not sure if you know of him,” suddenly in need of a glass of something stronger than champagne. 

“Do I know Kim Seokjin?” He nearly laughs, “If you walk the halls of the house I’m sure you’ll recognize some of his pieces on the walls,” he says boastfully, your nightmare coming true, “One of my sons actually goes to university where he teaches, you may know him… Jeon Jungkook?” 

For whatever reason, the mention of this name catches Taehyung’s attention who is caught up in conversation with Minwoo and Jaebum. He’s listening to the original conversation in one ear, the other trained in on yours with the President.

“I don’t think I do actually,” you lie smoothly trying to hide the shakiness in your voice. 

“Ah, that’s a shame, though he can be a pain in the ass sometimes so that might be a good thing,” he jokes with a laugh before turning his attention back to Taehyung and Jaebum. 

When you look back up at Taehyung, he’s staring at you with an intense glare, his jaw slightly clenched. You furrow your eyebrows, asking him a silent, “what’s wrong?” He ignores it, his face relaxing back to normal when he looks at his superiors. 

“Well, I truly hope that after the move you two only continue to move up in the company as quickly as you already have,” Minwoo says a you zone back into their conversation. Wait, what? 

“Ah yes,” President Jeon says, “The office in Chicago is nearly finished and to be able to fill it with analysts of your caliber, it will only continue to grow this great company.” 

Chicago?! Your face falls, your eyebrows furrowing as you look over at Taehyung. His body is tense, but he’s refusing to look at you. You suddenly feel dizzy and sick to your stomach, your hands clammy as if you’re going to throw up. Before Taehyung can stop you while his attention is elsewhere, you excuse yourself, attempting to find the nearest bathroom. 

The house is gigantic and it doesn’t take long to find a one as you’re sure there are probably 20 on the entire property. You balance yourself on the sink, turning on the cold water water quickly. You grab a towel to wet it, carefully applying it to your chest to cool off. 

Taehyung’s being moved? Is Taehyung choosing to move? When was he going to tell you this?! Is this the sole reason he asked to move in together?! But meaning in Chicago, not here?! 

You needed a fucking drink. You throw the towel in a waste basket, exiting the bathroom quickly. You hold onto the wall as you walk down the hallway, looking for the nearest open bar. You manage to find one set up just outside, which overlooks a large entertainment area and pool. If you squint, in the distance you can see the lights of the city. God—you wanted to go home. 

You settle for a glass of a dark red wine, sniffing it before you take a large sip. It instantly relaxes you, the alcohol moving past your tongue easily. If anything—it tastes like grape juice. 

Wanting to avoid Taehyung at all costs, you mosey around the party, finding a staircase outside that leads back into the house. You slowly take the stairs, your mind racing a million miles per hour. You’re sure Taehyung has tried to call you at this point, but your phone is buried deep in your shoulder bag on purpose. You don’t think you can face him at all right now. After this glass of wine, you’ve decided you’re going to call an Uber and get the hell out of here. 

As you reach the top of the stairs, you stop dead in your tracks. Right in front of you stands Jeon Jungkook. He’s bent at the waist, leaning over the railing with a wine glass in hand. His gaze was looking out into nothing but since he’s heard heels coming up stairs to his right, his head turns to find you. 

He nearly drops his wine glass—which would have definitely injured someone below—or at least severely stained a shirt or two. 

“Y/N?” He asks, standing up tall. Goddamnit, you think. He’s dress immaculately in a thickly-striped suit with a white button up that’s slightly undone at the top. His hair is slightly parted back off his forehead and you feel yourself spiraling. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks after you’re unable to speak. After meeting Jungkook’s father, you’re definitely not surprised to see him here—but if anything, you feel as if you could break down in tears at any moment. 

You realize that you’ve seemingly walked up to a balcony that enters into a large bedroom. You wonder if it’s Jungkook’s bedroom, or just a random guest balcony he’s found solace in. 

“I—“ you cut yourself off, trying to keep your composure, “I’m with Taehyung,” you manage to croak out. You can see the puzzle pieces clicking together for Jungkook in his head despite the darkness surrounding you two. However, it’s not that he cares about—

“Y/N… are you okay?” He asks with genuine concern, stepping towards you slightly. 

He notices the way your wine glass subtly shakes in your hand, your breathing uneven, your lips tucked away as you begin to shake your head no. He makes no time in rushing over to you steadying yourself against him. 

“What happened?” He asks as his brows lace with confusion as he settles you some against the railing, feeling a worry creep into him like he’s never felt before. 

You’re more even with Jungkook’s height in your heels now, your eyes bearing deep into his. His presence is calming you down and you feel safe right here. You open your mouth to speak, though nothing comes out. He’s patient and gentle with you, waiting for whenever you’re ready. 

You take another sip of your wine before speaking, “I think Taehyung’s been lying to me.” 

Jungkook’s face falls, “What do you mean?” He asks in a rush. 

“It’s not important,” is what you settle on. You don’t know if you’re in the mood to explain anything to Jungkook—let alone if you want to explain anything.

His face goes straight, letting out a deep breath, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he pauses, stepping away from you some to lean against the rail whilst facing you. “But I’m here if you want to talk… I want you to be okay.” 

His words feel like a warm hug wrapping around your heart. You lean back on your elbows, staring up at the stars. Deep breathes, you tell yourself. When you look back to him, his gaze hasn’t left you at all. 

“How can I be okay in a world like this?” Your voice breaks off as you bat tears away in your eyes. “All of this,” you motion with your hands, referencing all the luxury and extravagance, wine dangerously swishing around, “Wasn’t supposed to be the plan… why does my partner of almost five years feel the need to not tell me about him moving six-thousand miles away for his fucking job,” your voice now bitter and angry as you break his eye contact. 

Shit, Jungkook thinks. He bites his lip ring, contemplating his words and emotions. He hates to compare you to his mother—you’re much more of a strong-headed person than her—but it’s so reminiscent of his childhood and listening to her on the phone with her girlfriends and the arguments with his father. 

“It’s only ever about work with him,” you continue, a fire burning deep within you, “Why should I have to be the one to drop everything in my life to cater to him? Have the past five years of my life been a fucking waste?” again, you have to be conscious of your center of gravity as you feel tears wanting to brim over. 

“Don’t say that,” he quickly interjects, his tone soft and calm. 

“Well it sure fucking feels like it Jungkook,” you spit back at him, though he remains calm and collected. “He won’t even fucking marry me yet he’ll drop everything for this job and all the fucking fake extravagance of it all.” 

When you mention marriage, Jungkook is slightly taken aback. Obviously he’s picked up that your relationship has been long and serious, but there’s been no indication of thoughts of marriage. Hell, Jungkook didn’t even hear you mention Taehyung until weeks after you first met. 

Your voice trembles as you speak, unable to fight your emotions anymore, "I want friendship in my love for Taehyung but I don't want just a friend," you sip on the wine slowly as Jungkook watches you closely.

"I want to be cared for, and protected, and indulged⎯⎯" you pause again, trying to make sense of your words, "I want to be chosen everyday... is that too much of me to ask?"

Jungkook shifts in his position to fully face you. He shakes his head, one of his hands brushing a piece of hair behind your ear gently.

"It's never too much to ask," he says, his words careful yet understanding. He's felt these emotions all too well himself. He chose his ex-girlfriend everyday, yet she seemingly never chose him. It's an excruciating pain when you love someone more than they love you.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this,” you mutter, downing the rest of your wine glass to avoid a spill. 

“Y/N, you know I care about you,” he says with a careful tone. You meet his gaze again, which now is a little more harsh as if something is stirring inside him, “Can I be honest with you?” He raises a brow. 

“Always,” you whisper, slightly afraid of what he’s about to say. Mirroring you, he downs the rest of his wine too for some confidence.

“I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong and out of place. I mean this is where I fucking grew up,” he lifts a hand, a laugh emitting from him, “I think you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. Y/N, you posses a talent that people can only dream of. You’re smart, and kind, and funny, and so fucking beautiful,” he pauses as he clenches his jaw, “You walk into a room and all I see is you. You radiate a spark that I can’t even begin to describe how special you are and if—“ 

He cuts himself off, afraid he may take it too far, but when you’re still fully attentive, he says it anyways. 

“And if you marry someone like him, I’m afraid that spark will go away,” he pauses, “I know it will go away… because it happened to my mother,” his voice is barely a whisper as he finishes, him being the one to break eye contact with you. “So no, it's not too much to ask. You deserve someone who chooses you, puts you above everything—“ he cuts himself off before he can continue on, sighing deeply as he glances away from you. 

You’re simply speechless as his words sink into your bones. Your breath is shaky and you can tell Jungkook thinks he’s overstepped his boundaries. You don’t think he has, but his words do feel like someone has cauterized your insides. It hurts to hear a harsh truth, but as his words sink in, you can’t help but wonder if he’s right. 

“Sorry I just—“

“It’s okay,” you speak softly when you interrupt him, “I want you to know that… I think you’re special too, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook’s hand that’s on the railing begins to tighten around it, his knuckles turning white as frustration pulses through his veins. You notice his tight grip and you place your own hand over his to relax him some. There’s mere inches between you two now, but it’s comforting and it feels like only you two are left in the world—the party raging down below and throughout the house drowning out. While your head is spinning from the two glasses of alcohol that you had sipped on earlier, you know that most of it comes from his intoxicating scent. He’s everywhere at all times and you think this is some sick joke manifesting itself into reality as you feel yourself leaning into him. When he says your name slow and calculated, you know that you’re a puddle in his hands, ready for all the consequences that may come with your decision. You just don’t know exactly how it could have reached this point. 

“Y/N,” he says again as he’s now got you trapped between his body and the railing, your nose is brushing against his and you’ve never experienced a want so badly in your life, “We shouldn’t do this.” 

Your breathing is rugged and nervous as you look into his eyes. 

“I know,” you whisper back, your throat feeling like it could close up any second. 

You have no idea who leans in first, but when your lips touch his—it’s a spark that might as well be made of lightening. It’s terrifying the way it took only three seconds to melt into him and get a groove. He feels like he’s been dipped in honey and you’re eating him sweet and slowly. He inhales deeply through his nose as he deepens the kiss by opening your mouth with his tongue, his lip ring slightly cold against your skin. He tastes like red wine, furthering intoxicating you against the railing. Your hands slide up his chest, tangling into his hair as you pull him flush against you.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, looking you in the eyes again for another silent question of consent. You nod quickly, missing the feeling of him on you. This time, he kisses you a bit rougher as one hand digs into your waist, the other halfway choking you. God—this is so wrong, so morally wrong—but every bone in your body is screaming yes. 

You don’t think you’ve experienced anything of this magnitude in years. You feel him growing hard in front of you, which only further escalates your feelings towards him. When you drag your hand down and over his growing bulge, he breaks away quickly. 

“Shit Y/N,” he breathes away grabbing your hand away from his most sensitive area, “We need to stop.” 

You shake your head, never wanting this moment to end. He continues to kiss you feverishly, unable to get enough of you.

“I wanna make you feel good,” you breathe out heavily as his forehead rests against yours. 

“I know baby, I do too,” his use of the word baby sends a jolt down your spine, “But we can’t.” 

His voice is strained and it’s painful for him to stop whatever was about to happen. He wants nothing more than to bury his mouth in between your legs and then stuff you full of his cock thereafter—but it has to stop. Not only is your boyfriend at this party, probably looking through hell and high water to find you—but Jungkook’s father is your boyfriend’s boss. This can’t happen. 

A small whine from rejection leaves your throat, but you know he’s right. Not only did you just cheat on your boyfriend of nearly five years—said boyfriend was still at the party you were his date at.

Fuck. 

“Are you going to go home with him?” He asks suddenly. You honestly hadn’t thought about it since being away from Taehyung. You were still angry and frustrated with him, unsure if you even wanted to see him again tonight. 

You push Jungkook away from you a little bit to shrug off your shoulder bag to retrieve your phone. To your surprise, you only have two texts and one call from Taehyung, which honestly make your heart drop. You were expecting more, but you assume that work calls and he was too busy to try and actually find you. 

[Taehyung 9:02 PM] Are you okay?? Where did you go? 

[Taehyung 9:37 PM] We should talk when we go home. Call me when you see this. 

Jungkook watches you bite your lip nervously, feeling a bits of shame fall over your body. You meet his eye contact before saying that you should go. 

“I’ll walk you out,” he offers, which you don’t refuse. You’re not sure you could find your way out of here. There’s an awkward silence between you and Jungkook as he floats through the halls of his childhood home easily. You end up recognizing two of Seokjin’s pieces on the walls and you have to roll your eyes—there’s no escaping him in your world.

You still can’t believe Jungkook grew up to be who is he when he was raised like this. Beautiful, creative, and free—all from this stuffy background when he could have easily turned out to be a nepotistic douchebag. It makes your feelings towards him only grow even deeper. 

At this point, there's no trying to fight it. You've fallen for Jungkook, your kiss with him the final seal of the deal.

The two of you have reached the foyer where you first entered and you instantly spot Taehyung up near the front door talking to another one of his colleagues. You feel like you could throw up and you almost change your mind—wanting to turn around and hide with Jungkook somewhere in this mansion. But, both of you have created a mess at this point and you’re going to have to clean it up. 

Taehyung’s eyes have traveled all over—looking worried—until they land on you. He looks relieved but as soon as he spots who you are walking with, he visibly tenses up. 

“You should go,” you turn to Jungkook, stopping in your tracks briefly. He looks down at you with an expression you can’t read, giving you one nod before he’s turning on his heel away from you. 

You don’t waste anytime looking at him not wanting Taehyung to be suspicious of anything, continuing your march to him. 

“Hey—where have you been?” Taehyung’s voice is calm, a sweet smile spreading across his face when you reach him. He doesn’t bother introducing you to the other guy and his date, ending the conversation and practically dragging you outside by the hand in a tight, rough squeeze and pull. 

“Taehyung you’re hurting me,” you manage to get out, Taehyung immediately dropping your hand. 

“Shit,” he runs a stressed hand through his hair, “I’m sorry babe,” he grabs it kissing it gently as the driver pulls up the car, “I’ve just been worried about you—“

“Only two texts and one call worried?” You retort, an offended look crossing his face. “Or are you too worried about your impression at this fucking party to worry about me? Too worried about your move to Chicago to worry about me?” Your words are fiery hot, not caring if anyone around hears you. 

His eyes narrow at you, a visible gulp in his throat. 

“We’ll talk about this at home,” his own voice is seething and you’re unsure if you’ve ever heard him this angry. As the car pulls up, his eyes flicker back over to the front entrance of the house. You promptly follow them, your heart stopping when you realize Jungkook is leaning against a column at the front of his house, lighting a cigarette in the process. 

As you get into the car, the last thing you see is Jungkook’s eyes in the dark and the glow of his cigarette. Taehyung gets in after you and you know for sure that you’ve made a wrong decision. 

⏤

“How could you hide this from me?!” You’re voice is shaky as you watch as Taehyung stands in the kitchen of his apartment, leaning on his palms, unable to keep eye contact with you. You two hadn’t spoken once in the car on the way back to his place, but as soon as you crossed the threshold—you’d been at his throat. Rightfully so.

“Y/N I was going tell to you—“ he pauses as he looks up at you, but you interject before he can say anything else. 

“When Taehyung?!” You’re fighting tears at this point, “When you got on the fucking plane to leave me here alone?!” 

He makes his way over to you and the only thing you can do is step away from him—you could barely look at him right now, let alone want him to touch you. He opens his mouth to say something back, but closes it quickly, trying to think more about his words.

“I didn’t know how to Y/N,” is what he settles for, “I swear I was going to tell you soon—I-I wanted to let you know and for us to get excited and start looking at places to live!”

You feel a tear fall from your left eye and you know that you’re done for, your jaw shaking as you try to take deep breaths in and out. You begin to shake your head, unable to form sentences. 

“Y-you should have t-talked to me about it first Taehyung, do you not understand that?” More tears fall down your cheeks and you brush them away roughly. He opens his mouth again but you stop him—“No Taehyung! Just shut up for two seconds!” Your outburst startles him, letting you continue, “We’ve been together for almost five years—five years Taehyung, you’ve continuously put your career over everything. Your family, friends, me—“

“I’m doing this for us Y/N!” He interrupts you which only makes you even more pissed off. 

“What if I don’t want it Taehyung?!” You push back, “All I’ve ever wanted was just… you. I don’t need the fancy parties, tailored suits—all the money and status, it’s all bullshit! All I needed was you and now you’re leaving your life here, expecting me to just drop everything I’ve worked for, just for you! Do you not realize how fucking selfish that is Taehyung?!” 

You can tell he’s about to cry now—a rare sight. His jaw clenches as he looks away from you, hands on his hips in frustration. When he doesn’t say anything, you take a step towards him, putting a finger to his chest. 

“You’ll go halfway across the globe, that committed to your job and you won’t even fucking commit to me—after five years—you don’t want to fully commit to me, and that’s what’s fucking killing me right now Tae…” your voice trails off, a full on sob escaping your lips now. 

“Baby you know that’s not true,” he rushes out, grabbing your wrist in desperation, “I love you so much, so fucking much. There’s never been anyone so perfect for me,” he chokes out. 

His touch is comforting, but it feels strange. You feel like you don’t know the person standing in front of you. 

You’re shaking your head slowly, “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” you pause, looking at him through watery eyes, “And this is one of those times.” 

“Y/N, baby please don’t cry,” he leans down, his forehead touching yours, “We can work through this, we’ll build a good life together I promise… I just have to make this move for me, our life will be so good…” 

Selfish, selfish, selfish. 

Your heart feels like it’s being ripped to shreds in your chest. It’s like you’re drowning, unable to come up for air. Your eyes close firmly as you lean into him. 

“Taehyung I love you so much,” you whisper, “But I’m not leaving my life here,” you pause, opening your eyes again, “I can’t do it.” 

Your words feel like gunshots to your own chest, choking on your mild sobs. Taehyung is shaking his head in denial, his own emotions becoming too overwhelming. 

“No, no, no baby please,” he’s begging you, pleading with you, “Don’t say that to me please,” his deep voice is so shaky you can barely understand him, “You’re breaking my heart right now.” 

“So are you,” you can’t talk louder even if you wanted to. You felt your entire body being broken in half, as if a piece of you is being ripped out from under you, “I should go,” you wiped your face as you try to pull yourself away from him. 

He pulls you back, “No, Y/N, please don’t do this right now.” 

You fight against him, pushing yourself off of him, “I need to go home Tae.” 

He doesn’t fight you anymore, watching as you gather your purse and phone off his kitchen counter. He whispers your name again as you open his front door to leave. You turn over your shoulder, tears still streaming down your cheeks. 

“I love you,” his voice is weak and tired. 

You nod, “I love you too.” 

You find yourself sitting on the steps outside of Taehyung’s apartment building, knees to your chest as you continue to sob to yourself. Taehyung lived in one of the nicest parts of the city in one of the nicest apartment complexes, so you weren’t wary of anyone sketchy finding you on the steps. The only thing you could think about was getting out of this dress and heels—a hot shower to cry in—and curling into a warm blanket for sleep, ignoring everything that just happened. 

Was this a breakup? 

Should you go back upstairs? 

Would you really not move with Taehyung?

So many questions are spinning in your head that you need to be distracted from. You pull out your phone, calling the one person you'd want to see right now. 

⏤

You walk into the threshold of Jungkook’s apartment a little after midnight. Lucky for you, he answered on the second ring, on the way back from leaving his parents home. He’s been worried sick the entire drive back to his apartment. You’ve barely spoken a word, tears and choked sobs emitting from your lips. He made the effort to hold your hand the entire drive, which you gladly accepted. He sets down your heels at the door with his own shoes, following in behind you. 

Thankfully, you’ve calmed down significantly on the drive over. You take in your environment, inhaling the familiar scent on Jungkook. His apartment is a studio and its spotless, abate a corner filled with art supplies in his living room. The entire right side of his apartment is exposed brick, his bed situated closer to the large floor to ceiling window, a large couch a few feet over, partitioned by a desk and plant. His apartment is much more modern than yours, grey and cream being the prominent color he’s chosen to utilize. 

“Thank you,” you turn around to meet his eyes which have the same concerned look in them since he’s picked you up. 

He nods, not wanting to press any hard questions to you just yet, “Do you want some water? Anything else?” 

You nod, “Sure, water is good.” 

He quickly grabs you a glass, filling it with his Brita in the fridge, handing it over to you as fast as can. It feels good as you drink it, your throat raw from all the crying and voice raising. 

“Do you want me to take you home in a bit?” He asks hesitantly as he shrugs off his jacket. 

“I—I was hoping I could stay…” you trail off, “I’ll take the couch,” you add quickly, “I just don’t really want to be alone right now.”

He gives you a soft smile, a small dimple forming on his cheek, “Of course, I’ll take the couch, don’t worry about it.” 

Jungkook makes you feel right at home, offering you a shower and clothes. You happily take them both, turning on his shower as hot as it can go. His bathroom impresses you even more with how clean it is and you finally feel like you’re able to relax after this hellish evening. You don’t wash your hair, only scrubbing your body and makeup off, but it’s still a good shower. Jungkook’s products smell good and you like the idea of smelling like him. 

Once you’re out, you quickly change into the large long sleeve t-shirt he’s giving you. The sleeves go way past your hands and it hits you around mid-thigh. It’s soft and comfy, reminding you of many nightgowns you have back at your place. He even has some body lotion in the cabinet and you run some over your legs just so you don’t wake up ashy. 

You hang up your towel on the rack before heading back out into the studio space. You find Jungkook sitting on his couch, manspread slightly with his phone in one hand, a glass of wine in another. He must have just opened a bottle, given the cork and bottle are on the coffee table.

He notices you when you get close, sitting down beside him with a heavy sigh. Your mind and body are exhausted. His couch is comfy and you could fall asleep right now with him by your side. He offers you a sip of his wine, which you gladly take. 

“Red or white?” You ask him curiously. 

He purses his lips in contemplation before answering red, “It reminds me of grape juice,” he adds. 

You give him a small smile, the universe continuing to give parallels of your and Jungkook’s lives. 

After a few moments of silence and finishing the glass of wine together, Jungkook finally asks, “What happened Y/N?” 

Your breath is shaky and you quickly ask him to pour another glass of wine for you two. 

“I think Taehyung and I may have broken up,” you don’t believe the words as you say them yourself. Your eyes are fixated on the floor, your leg bouncing up and down to keep your composure. 

“You think?” He questions further, confusion lacing his tone. 

“H-he,” you pause, holding in any further tears, “He’s really moving,” you confirm from the conversation earlier, “He’s moving six-thousand miles away from here and just thought I would be okay with it,” you regain your consciousness, looking to your right into Jungkook’s eyes, “I don’t have to be okay with that, do I?” 

Jungkook rests his head against the back of his couch as his eyes soften for you, “No, you don’t,” he shakes his head. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry I called you, I shouldn’t—“

“Hey,” his hand finds the side of your face and you lean into his touch, “You’re my friend, you could call me anytime and I’d answer.” 

You don’t know who put Jungkook into your life or why, but the timing was immaculate. He was put in your life when you seemingly needed a breath of fresh air and a new ray from the sun. You’re thankful for it. 

“I’m sorry about earlier too,” you say, referring to the kiss you two shared on the small balcony. 

Suddenly a playful smirk spreads on his face, “I’m not,” he says biting his lip ring. You can’t help but let out a laugh, him matching you as you both down the second glass of wine. Jungkook opens up an arm for you and you cuddle up next to him, leaning into his body and scent. You’ve done a complete 180 in the last hour, all thanks to the man to your right. 

The two of you continue to talk about random things, him trying his best to make you feel better through lighthearted jokes and other things. Neither one of you mention Taehyung again which you’re grateful for. It’s not long until you find your eyes drifting to sleep, unable to keep them open any longer, you fall asleep curled into Jungkook, his head leaning on yours, wishing that he could stitch up every single wound in your heart.

⏤

You wake up the next morning pretty early, your head slightly hurting. Did you really drink that much last night? You’re warm and comfortable, the bed under you molding to your frame perfectly. When your vision finally focuses, a panicked thump of your heart occurs. Wait—you lean up on your elbows sightly looking around the apartment. Everything from last night comes rushing back into your head and you look over to your left to find Jungkook sleeping peacefully on his tummy, his face halfway buried in his pillow. 

The sight makes you smile as you maneuver underneath the covers to reach over and grab a sip of water from his small nightstand. You wonder why Jungkook is in bed with you, but then as you go through every scene in your head, you briefly remember Jungkook carrying you over to his bed, eyes barely open. You then remember telling him to stay with you, that he was warm and you were cold. Of course, he couldn’t say no. 

“Mm,” a noise comes from Jungkook garnering your attention. When you look over at him, he’s got one eye open looking at you, a small smile playing on his face, “Come back to bed,” he mutters. 

And it’s exactly what you do. You finish the small amount of water left before you situate yourself back into his sheets. Jungkook moves onto his side, opening his arms for your frame. You press your back to his chest as he pulls you close, spooning you from behind comfortably. His scent was everywhere, he was everywhere, and before you know it, you’re falling back to sleep together. 

It’s a couple hours later when you wake up again, feeling much more rested and your head not pounding anymore. Jungkook’s arm is still around your front resting just below your belly button as he holds you close. The shirt that you wear has bunched up around your hips, your bare legs touching his covered in sweatpants. 

You consider yourself to be very hyper-aware of your surroundings. You always have been—taking in every detail of every moment carefully and calculated. Sometimes you use it to your advantage, sometimes you don’t. This is one of those times where you’re feeling every detail, a breath hitching in your throat.

Jungkook is half-hard behind you. Whether it’s that, or how dangerously close his hand is to your pelvic bone, there’s a jolt of lighting that pulses through your veins. You bite your lip in contemplation weighing through options in your head. 

Taehyung and you may have broken up—a grey area still there and growing. Despite how you’re possessing guilt about last night, you’re not sure if the relationship can be salvaged—whether the kiss with Jungkook happened or not. You love him, have loved him for so long—but he’s leaving and you’re not going with him.

You definitely know you need to speak with him again, sooner rather than later. If you do nothing, you still have to speak with him. 

Jungkook has been a ray of light in your life the past month. Ever since the friendly date at the art gallery, there’s been a tension between you two that was briefly explored last night with a simple kiss. You’ve been very self-aware of your feelings for Jungkook. You know he makes you feel inspired, seen, heard—but still, if you do nothing, you still have to talk to Taehyung. 

If you do something, you’ll still have to talk to Taehyung. 

But right here, right now, it’s something that you push to the back of your mind, deciding on the latter. 

Feeling a little nervous, you push your hips back into Jungkook, though slightly moving in his grip to not make it too obvious. He doesn’t budge, so you try again. This time, Jungkook stirs behind you slightly, cortisol levels increasing with anxiousness. 

You wait a few moments before you carefully press back against him for a third time, a heavy intake of breath right near your ear. You slightly freeze when you think he may awake now, but a bundle of excitement runs through your nerves. 

When you push your ass backwards again, you feel him push himself forward—yup, most definitely awake. Jungkook’s hand that’s resting just below your belly button suddenly trails down the side of your thigh to rest just above your knee, his fingers facing inwards, gently rubbing at your exposed skin. 

“Jungkook,” you breathe out heavily, desire coating his name as you say it. You look back over your shoulder to find him with his eyes still closed, but he’s biting down on his lip harshly. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, his hand now making its way back up to the inside of your thigh as you press your ass into him fully. Before he reaches where you feel yourself pooling for him, his eyes open giving you an intense stare. 

He’s asking for consent, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows heavily. Instinctively, you open your legs slightly before saying, “Touch me, please.” 

He hesitates before he sits up a little behind you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder gently. Finally, his hand meets your center, your nipples hardening as you let out a sigh. Two of his fingers rub in circles delicately over the fabric of your panties, blood already rushing down to your clit as he does so. 

You spread your legs a little more, your left hand supporting the back of your thigh as he continues to work against you. Your panties are a flimsy thong, barely covering your lips anyways but the moment he finally moves the fabric out of the way, a shutter leaves your lips. 

“Fuck,” he says, his fingers feeling at the wetness, “You’re soaked baby,” experimentally, he dips one finger in quickly and back out to run your slick over your swelling clit. 

“Mhmm,” you mumble, “Fuck I need you Jungkook,” you say honestly, your breath slightly unhinged. He moves himself a little, to get a better look over his shoulder. 

“Move the sheets baby,” he says with a groan from the back of his throat. You do as you're told, both of you now fully able to see when he sinks his fingers into your dripping cunt. 

“Oh—“ you breathe out heavily as he slowly begins to move in and out of you. 

He rubs your g-spot inside of you a few times before he begins to curl his fingers inside you. Jungkook continues to only grow harder as he fingers you—your hot slick inside making him too excited. A familiar yet naughty sound of your slick against his fingers begin to fill the room. It’s visceral and hot, leaving your body wanting more. 

With your free hand, you grab one of your breasts, stimulating your nipple through the material of his shirt. 

“Shit,” he says, “Let’s take this off,” he says and you quickly oblige as he pulls out his fingers to let your rid yourself of the fabric. Your tits bounce free and Jungkook swears he could come right then and there. 

His fingers descend back into your cunt, this time a faster pace as he rolls you on your back some. His mouth latches over your left nipple, a content exhale coming through his nose. A hand twists into his hair as your moans continue to get louder once he begins a steady pace against your clit with his thumb. Your breathing is picking up rapidly, your back arching off the mattress as he works his way to making you come. 

“Jungkook—fuck I’m gonna come,” you tell him through bated breath as his mouth works against your breast, your neck and earlobe, and finally meets your mouth hungrily. 

“Come on baby,” he says into your mouth and as if on cue, your orgasm is tipped off the cliff, your face contorting as it shudders through your body. 

“Ah, ah!” Your body twitches against his as he works you through your orgasm, telling you just how good you’re doing and how pretty you look. When you finally feel like your body has given everything it’s got, you lean up to crash your lips onto Jungkook’s, whose body is still behind of you as he leans over to kiss you. 

With your thighs now closed, you two have no space between each other, his cock straining against his sweatpants to be free. You reach behind you, pushing his pants down, unable to wait any longer. 

“Wait, wait,” he breathes heavily, his hand grabbing yours before you can fully push his sweatpants down, “Are you sure?” 

A strained whine leaves your lips as you nod quickly, “I need you so bad Jungkook,” you say which is all he needs to finish taking off his pants, underwear-less, his beautiful cock springing out against his tummy. He’s bigger and thicker than you could have imagined, veiny and a pink tip the color of his lips just waiting to be sucked into you. 

“I have condoms in the nightstand,” he says. You quickly reach over since it’s on your side, digging one out quickly. You tear the packet open with your teeth before you hand it over to him. With the little space you’re giving him, he’s rolling down the condom, a sharp intake of breath as he touches himself. 

You’re about to roll onto your back before he stops you, “Stay on your side baby,” he instructs as he presses himself against your back again. His left hand lifts up your leg, your cunt now fully exposed to the colder air, a shiver sent down your entire body. He rubs his tip against your slit, an explicative falling from his mouth when he finally begins to push inside you. 

He so big—the stretch slightly burning as he works into you. There definitely could have been more foreplay involved, but the desire for this man was too strong to wait anymore. You don’t even realize that you’re holding your breath until he’s pushed at the hilt, his pelvis against your backside fully. 

“It’s okay baby, I got you,” he manages to say as he relished in your slick warmth, “God I’ve dreamed out this so much,” he says as he pulls out slowly before even slower pushing back in. 

“Me too,” you breathe out truthfully as you hold his head close to your own; shit it burns, “Is it living up to your expectation?” 

He licks his lips with a slight chuckle, relishing in a heavy moan you’ve just let escape. 

“Turns out my imagination isn’t as good as I thought,” it’s the last thing he says before he picks up his pace inside you. 

He hooks his arm under your leg to open you up even further, looking down the front of your body to watch himself go in and out of your pussy. He fills you up to the point where it’s dizzying. You’re still sensitive from your orgasm earlier, your mouth slack as he pumps himself with a good stroke. 

“Fuck,” he groans heavily, “You’re so perfect baby,” his breath is hot over your neck, unable to form words yourself—whiney moans emitting from your lips. 

You crane your head to look back at him, your noses brushing together before you reach up to meet your lips together. It’s a messy kiss—wet and hot as you breathe into each other’s mouths, his tongue working against yours. With your free hand, you bring it to stimulate yourself from the outside against your clit, a shudder going through your breath. 

“That’s it baby, touch yourself for me,” he watches as you circle your clit, your pussy squeezing around him tightly. You already feel another orgasm approaching you, but Jungkook suddenly pulls completely out of you, leaving you breathless. 

“Jungkook?” You ask as he turns you flat on your back, his lips trailing down to your pussy, his tongue meeting your center. 

“Didn’t want to come yet,” he explains as he begins to eat you out as if its his last meal. His lip ring is cold against your sensitive skin. He open mouth licks, kisses, and sucks all on you and your clit. Your hips arches off the mattress, explicative falling out of your mouth. You taste sweet and Jungkook’s sure its the best he’s ever had. 

As Jungkook focuses on your clit, sucking in with harsh lips you tell him you’re going to come again. Your mouth falls open when you feel yourself reach the peak of your climax again, quickly falling as you moan shamelessly loud. You’re seeing white behind your eyelids as you grip onto the pillow at your head, biting on your lip to quiet yourself. It’s no use given it’s one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. He continues to let your ride out your orgasm and it’s becoming too much. The over stimulation bringing on a familiar uncomfortable sensation as you tell him to quit. He obliges but is then lining himself up with your entrance again, entering in you flush all at once. 

This time, Jungkook’s pace is fast and rough as one of his hands grip where your hip meets your torso, the other around your neck as he fights to not kiss you. As much as he loves your lips, he loves the noises coming out of them and wants you to be as loud as you can be. 

“Jungkook I can’t,” everything is sensitive, a pleasurable pain pulsing through you as he slams against you relentlessly. 

“Yes you can baby, come on,” he’s whining too as this point, “Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he says it like a warning, but you want nothing more for him to do just that. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” whispered chants leave your lips, Jungkook’s own moans mixing with yours loudly before he releases the pressure off your neck, lips crashing down on your own. Someway, somehow, you come a third time as his pelvic bone grinds into you, a muffled scream into his mouth as you do so. 

This is what sends Jungkook over the edge, his hips slamming into yours harshly as he comes into the condom, a strangled groan emitting from the back of his throat. 

“Fffuck Y/N,” he stills inside of you, both of your hearts racing and sweaty in the sheets. He collapses on top of you, your arms wrapping around him protectively as he places intimate kisses along your collarbone and chest. 

Your whole body is aflame and as he looks up to you, his eyes full of stars. You brush his fringe from his face slowly as the two of you kiss gently in the haze of the morning. You’re sure that Jeon Jungkook is a disguised angel fallen from heaven. 

⏤

“Sit still,” Jungkook laughs as he looks up from his sketch book briefly, a lazy smile playing at his lips. 

You laugh while biting your lip, “I am still!” You fight back as you rest your head in your hand, looking right at him longingly. He sets down his pencil for a moment, inhaling a small amount from the joint you two were currently sharing. You hadn’t smoked in a long time, but when Jungkook offered after having sex, you couldn’t refuse. 

Both of you are a little high not just on the flower, but each other too. You don’t know what time it is or how long both of you have been laying around at his apartment since you’ve been awake. On his bed, he’s sitting criss-crossed apple sauce across from you as you lay on your side as his model. He begged to sketch you for nearly 20 minutes before you finally agreed. 

You take another hit from the joint, “How’s it going?” You muse and he smirks slightly, chewing on his thumb nail as he continues to draw. 

“Do you ever shut up?” He says and you flip him off deservedly so. 

It’s only another 10 minutes until Jungkook proclaims he’s finished—at least for now. He says he’d add more details later when his brain was a little more clear. Though when he hands the sketch pad over to you, your eyes widen. 

“Oh wow,” you marvel, “More details?” You ask in disbelief. Though the sketch was tad a messy, not perfect, it still looked exactly like you. Almost frighteningly so. You were wearing his shirt again, your hair fallen and messy after the sexcapades earlier. Even the details of your hands are immaculate despite how minuscule they are in the drawing. 

“You like it?” He asks, his eyes a little wide, tone seeking validation. You give him a hazy-eyed smile, giving him a nod of approval. 

“I’ll sketch you one day, to return the favor,” you say with a peaked brow as you hand him back the sketch book. 

“A favor eh?” He bite his lip ring, “I had to beg you for this.” 

“Exactly—I always repay for charity work,” you laugh when he rolls his eyes, moving over to your frame. 

He lays on his side mirroring you as he props his head up on one of his hands. He inhales the joint once more with his tattooed hand, offering it to you once more. You shake your head, already feeling a good enough high to enjoy yourself and not go into full panic mode. 

“You have so many tattoos,” you comment as your eyes trail from his hand, up his forearm into his elbow, bicep, and finally, the top of his shoulder. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, clearing the ashtray from his bed, setting it on the floor for now.

“Which one was your first?” You ask him; your curiosity cute to him. 

“Hmm,” he thinks about it as he brings out his arm a little to look over each one, “I think this one,” he says, referencing to the Chinese characters on the back of his elbow, “Or maybe the ones on my hand, I don’t really remember,” he laughs, his memory falling short in this moment. 

“Do they all mean something to you?” 

He nods immediately, his eyes finding yours again. You ask him which one is his favorite. 

“Probably this one,” he points to the orange tiger lily on the inside of his forearm, “It’s one of the ones I drew myself.” It’s detailed immaculately, with words blended in behind it, “It’s my birth flower,” he explains. You think he told you once his birthday was in September. Him being a Virgo makes sense to you. 

“What does it say behind it?” You ask as your free hand grabs his arm to bring closer to your eyes so you can see the details better. 

“Please love me,” he answers after a moment of watching you slowly turn his arm to marvel at all the ink. His words make you freeze though, your heart strings tugging towards him. 

You smile at him shyly, “Is Jeon Jungkook a romantic?” 

He smiles back at you fondly, “Only when I want to be.” 

“Mhm, sure,” you mumble, your hand finding his. His is much larger than yours, covering yours protectively. 

“You don’t have any tattoos?” He asks. He’s just seen you naked but his attention was exactly looking at certain places on your skin for ink. 

You shake your head, “I’ve always been too scared,” you tell him honestly with a laugh. 

He laughs clearly amused, “It’s not as bad as you think it is.” 

You roll your eyes, “Says the person with an arm covered in them. I’d trust someone who has like one or two… they’re more likely to be truthful about the pain.” 

“Well if you ever want one, I’ll go with you just so I can say I told you so,” he suddenly moves closer to your frame. He throws an arm over your waist, pulling you to him. 

“Never gonna happen,” there’s a lame attempt to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. It doesn’t stay, still too short. 

“I like you in my clothes,” he comments, brushing his nose against yours. He slowly closes the gap between you two. His lips are still so soft and each time he kisses you—it feels like the first. 

“It’s comfy,” you say once you break away from him, your nails scratching the back of his head gently. He relishes in it like a puppy, a relax smiled on his face. 

“You look better out of them though,” is his next comment which garners a giggle deep within you. One thing leads to the next and you’re having sex again. This time you’re on top of him, on your tummy, legs over his shoulders—and he makes you come each and every time. You’ve had many blissful moments in your life, but this has to be up with one of your most. 

⏤

Reality hits you when Jungkook drops you off at home that evening. Whatever bliss you experienced this morning and afternoon, it all feels like a dream that didn’t happen. You make sure to feed Sushi his wet food as soon you get home, as well as clean his litter box for him. Your phone is what makes you the most anxious. You’ve got missed texts and calls from a few people. Taehyung obviously, Sana, Seokjin, and even your father. 

[Taehyung Yesterday 11:13 PM] Please let me know when you get home. I love you. 

[Taehyung 12:09 PM] Did you get home okay?

[Taehyung 7:21 AM] Y/N please call me, you’re worrying me. 

[Taehyung 10:32 AM] Please text me when you see this. I haven’t slept all night. I love you so much. 

4 Missed Calls

Your throat constricts, feeling guilty that you didn’t even have the minds to look at your phone after Jungkook picked you up. You feel sick to your stomach as you continue through your messages. 

[Sana 8:23 AM] hey is everything okay?? taehyung texted me this morning and asked if I’ve heard from you

[Sana 8:26 AM] did you two get into a fight? are you home?

[Sana 1:15 PM] hello… are you alive????????

6 Missed Calls

You opt to deal with the others later, giving Sana a call back immediately. Also, just unsure of how to deal with Taehyung right now. She answers on the first ring. 

“What the actual FUCK have you been up to?!” She’s screaming and you have to hold the phone away from you as she continues, “You have me worried fucking sick! Why haven’t you answered me or Taehyung! Are you out of your fucking mind!?”

“Sana please, I’m fine,” you say after she’s cooled off some, “I need you to come over as soon as you can.” 

She hesitates, “Is everything okay?” She sounds worried, all malice gone in her tone. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper over the phone. Now that you’re going to have to face whatever mess has been created, your heart thumps and your chest is tight. She agrees, dropping whatever she’s doing hanging up just as fast. 

You decide to text Taehyung, knowing you’ve worked him up sick. 

[You 4:23 PM] I’m fine. Slept a lot last night and today, ringer was off. 

[You 4:24 PM] love you too 

You add the second text without hesitation, despite a bubbling substance of guilt in your tummy. You know your relationship with Taehyung can’t continue. Whatever hurt he’s caused you and what you’ve done with Jungkook—it’s all down the drain. And it’s this reality that makes you break down, sliding to the floor in choked sobs. 

Sana finds you this way, nearly hyperventilating as she hurries over to you. 

“Y/N!” She exclaims, “Oh my god, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she kneels beside you, her arms throwing themselves around you tightly. You lean into her touch, trying to make sentences but nothing comes out. Just incoherent jumble as you choke out tear after tear. 

Sana is literally the best of friends you could ever ask for. As you lay curled up on your couch, she’s fixed you a cup of hot tea and a bowl of ramen for you two with the works—pork belly, an egg, and green onions. 

As she serves up your food, she’s got the most worried look on her face and you can’t blame her. You probably look horrifying—horrifying with an after sex glow. 

“Babe,” she says after you begin to eat your food, “What’s going on? You’re scaring the shit out of me.” 

You slurp a noodle, “Sana,” you groan, “I think I fucked up, but also Taehyung fucked up, fucked up, and I think we broke up but th—“

“Whoa whoa,” she stops you, “Broke up? W-what do you mean?” She’s utterly stunned as you relay this information. 

So it’s when you tell her. Tell her everything your life has succumbed to in the last month. From meeting Jungkook—no inspiration—Taehyung putting work before you—the date with Jungkook—the fucking sex dream—to the real reason Taehyung asked to move in with you—the kiss with Jungkook, feelings for him—Jungkook’s dad being Taehyung’s main boss—everything up until after the party. 

“How long has he known about the move?” Sana is angry as you tell her all this information. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “We kind of blew up at each other last night and then I just left…” 

“Shit,” she mutters, “Well that’s really fucking shitty of him to do that to you Y/N. You’ve been together too long for him not to give you a heads up about that.” 

You nod as you set down your bowl of food on the coffee table, “I know and like I said I think we broke up but I’m not exactly sure and now—“ you cut yourself off, your stomach churning at the thought. She looks at your curiously as if she knows what you’re about to say will make her disappointed in you. 

“What did you do?” She says slowly to brace herself. 

“I wasn’t answering my phone last night because I wasn’t here.” 

You can’t even look at her as you continue. 

“I was with Jungkook.” 

Sana doesn’t say anything as she lets your words process, all the puzzle pieces coming together in her head slowly but surely. She doesn’t look angry or confused, but her face is emotionless which is honestly scarier to you. 

“You had sex with him, didn’t you?” She already knows, but she wants to hear you confirm it yourself. You nod slowly, adding in not just once—but three separate times. She runs a hand over her temple, her brain clearly working overtime. 

There’s a heavy moment of silence that falls between the two of you. You don’t regret hooking up with Jungkook at all—if anything, him and his company has been the light of your life the past few weeks. You just can’t help but feel whatever grey area that Taehyung created, you separated it into black and white without him. Was that fair to him? 

“So you had sex with Jungkook, kind of broken up with Taehyung after a fight, but not for sure… and you haven’t talked to Taehyung since last night?” 

“Yeah…” you sigh heavily, putting your head in your hands. 

“God Y/N,” she mumbles, her hand running up and down your back, “Well you for sure have to talk to Taehyung sooner than later… you have to tell him—“

“Sana—“

“Y/N you’ve dated and loved this man for five years—he deserves to know, even if you two truly were broken up,” she’s harsh with her words, but you know she’s right. “So what do you truly feel for Jungkook?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. Truthfully, you hadn’t put any thought into it since you’ve been home. 

“You clearly have developed feelings for him over the last few weeks, faster than even Taehyung,” she pauses, “Do you want something out of him? Or do you think he was just there to comfort you when you needed it?” 

You look up from your hands, looking at her in your peripheral, “Fuck Sana, I don’t know,” you feel tears threatening to spill over again, “I think being with Taehyung for so long, I never thought there would be another person I could actually develop feelings for, but he’s kind and gentle, he listens to me, makes me feel heard, and he’s so much like me but that also fucking terrifies me.”

“Why is that scary?” 

You lean back into your couch, meeting her gaze, “I always thought I wanted someone so different from me, different than my parents relationship—and I found that and I love him so much,” your voice is strained, “But I’m not sure if different is what I actually needed.” 

She puts a hand on your knee for comfort, “Can I be as honest as I can with you?” She’s a little unsure of your reaction, but as soon as you nod she gives you a reassuring squeeze, “I know that you love Taehyung and I know that it’s been hard with his job… I don’t think you should have slept with Jungkook so soon but…” she pauses, “I’m not going to try to make excuses for you but, I get it,” her words aren’t expected and your shoulders relax.

“I think someone like Jungkook was going to come into your life eventually, it just happened to be when you were with someone else… I think you’ve always been scared to be like your parents, but you’re not trapped in a box, you have free will and you’re allowed to do as you please. I don’t think you needed different either, I think you’ve always just wanted someone to give you the same amount of love you give them,” her words are so true that you feel your chest constricting again.

“I’m not going to sit here and say you crossed a boundary because I don’t know if you did, only you know that yourself… but Taehyung deserves the respect from you to let him know and you deserve someone who works in the relationship equally. I feel like this may have been unfair to Taehyung but he's also been unfair to you, for a long time now,” she adds in a breath, “I don’t think you and Taehyung can be together anymore, but I also don’t know if you should be with Jungkook right now either.” 

Sana’s words cut through you like a freshly sharpened knife. She’s your best friend for a reason. She’s supposed to support and love you, but she’s also supposed to hold you accountable. You don’t even say anything else as you crawl over to her, both of you embracing in a tight hug. 

“I love you,” you mumble to her, honestly coating every word. 

“I love you more,” she responds. And you know she does. 

⏤

It’s been almost two weeks since your shitshow of last weekend. You’ve barely interacted with anyone aside from Sana and an occasional text from your parents, asking about your final exhibition dates. You told Seokjin that you needed to work from home this week, citing a change in scenery would be stimulating. Obviously, he didn’t know it really was a ploy to keep you away from Jungkook. 

You hadn’t spoken to him since sleeping with him. He reached out to you once over text, though you ignored it, needing your head clear of your demons before you faced him. As time has passed, you still don’t regret hooking up with him. The only thing you feel is shame; afraid that your advances came off in bad taste, only using him as a distraction. Luckily as you’ve come to learn, Jungkook is extremely good at reading people and when you didn’t respond to him—he never texted again. You obviously wanted space and he was going to respect that. 

What you couldn’t keep running away from was Taehyung. It’s why you’re meeting him now at a park that’s not too far from your apartment. It’s middle of the day on a Thursday, which is surprising that Taehyung agreed to meet now when you reached out. You assumed that he would have been at work but it's when he shows up in casual jeans and a t-shirt, that he must not be. 

You’re sitting on a park bench, dressed casually in a sweatshirt and sweat-shorts anxiously waiting for him to show face. When he comes around to sit down, he startles you slightly, but his presence brings a comfortable warmth. 

“H-hi,” you say nervously, turning your frame to him. He didn’t look good—his eyes baggy and dry, lips a little chapped, and his hair a little messy. 

“Hey,” is what he chooses, his own tone sounded a little off. There’s an awkward space between you two on the bench. 

“How have you been?” You ask, your eyes kind of darting any and everywhere, unable to hold his gaze for too long. 

His lip trembles as he sighs heavily, “Not the best,” he says honestly. You nod slowly, agreeing with him. 

Somedays you’re fine. You go through your day and normal routine of spin classes and painting, cuddling Sushi, and going to bed early. Other days have been horrible—up late unable to sleep due to stress and crying, no productivity in sight. While you and Taehyung have texted over these last couple weeks checking in on each other, being in front of him right now feels like there’s a spotlight on you and you’re scared to fuck up. You haven’t been ready to talk until now, but now you’re here and going mute. 

“Listen Y/N—“

“Tae—“

You speak at the same time to which you both smile at each other. 

“You go first,” you offer, still feeling like you may chicken out of what you actually need to say to him. 

He nods once, biting on his lip nervously, “Y/N I’ve been thinking the last couple weeks and um,” he pauses taking in a deep breath, “I realize I fucked up so bad. I thought about what you said and you’re right, I should have never assumed that you would have been okay with moving and never talking about it with you first…” 

As his voice slightly weakens as he continues to talk, it only breaks your heart even more. You have to tell yourself not to cry. 

“I’ve been pretty shitty to you at times and I always thought if I could give you nice things, take you out to nice dinners.. that it would somehow make up for the time we’ve lost over the years, but now I see that’s not what you needed at all.” 

You now have tears streaming down your cheeks—god, if only he recognized this sooner, maybe this wouldn’t have fallen apart the way it did. 

“I just love you so much and I get it if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” you watch a tear fall from his cheek, “But I just want you to know that I never intended on hiding anything from you and I’m sorry that I did. It was never my intention to hurt you and put you in a hard position, I just—fuck,” he stops, tugging on the roots of his hair. “I’m fucking sorry for everything Y/N, I just can’t move on and make this move if you hate me for the rest of your life.” 

Your face falls and you chest feels like it’s cracked open. You quickly close the space between you two, placing a hand gently on his face so he would look you in the eyes. 

“Taehyung I could never, ever hate you,” you tell him truthfully, “I have loved you for so long and I don’t think I’ll stop anytime soon…” 

He nods in your hands, relishing in your gently grip. He doesn’t say anything else, so you take it as your time. 

“I did and still do feel hurt about you keeping this from me,” you pause, dropping your hands, “I know that this had to have been a hard decision but the fact you left me out of it isn’t okay and I’m glad you recognize that… and you’re right, I never cared about the jewelry and the dinners and the flowers and wine, all I ever wanted was just you and me, against the world,” he chokes out a deep sob at your words, breaking your heart all over again. 

“I just, I truly can’t leave behind what I’ve worked for and the goals I want to accomplish here,” you shake your head, “It’s just not fair to me, but that doesn’t mean I will ever hate you or stop loving you.” 

He nods slowly as he takes in all of your information, his breath shakes as he breathes out. 

“Taehyung,” you brace yourself, “There’s something else I need to tell you.” 

He looks at you with a panicked expression as he mutters a hm? 

“I lied to you too about something,” your cadence is slow as you look down, picking at a loose piece of skin on your thumb, “I didn’t go home when I left your place after our fight.”

His eyebrows deeply furrow and you can see his brain working in overtime. Taehyung’s a smart man and it doesn’t take him long to piece together what you’re saying. 

“You went to his place, didn’t you? Jungkook? Seokjin’s student?” His jaw slightly clenches as he says it. You nod to confirm, feeling uncomfortable with how he's framed his words. “Jesus fucking Christ Y/N,” he suddenly stands up from the bench, another stressed pull of his hair, “We get into one fight and you run off to fuck someone who is basically your student?” 

“What?” You fight back, “No—no,” you rush out, though your heart sinks given you’re lying at this very second while trying to tell the truth. “Taehyung no, he’s just a friend I swear.” 

He turns back to you, eyes narrowing at you, “Can you look me in the eyes and tell me nothing happened with your fucking friend then? Is that why you lied to his father about knowing who he was?” 

You stare at him with your lips slightly parted, your heart thumping deep within your chest, “We kissed,” you whisper, wincing at your words internally.

“Is that it?” He asks with a tone that’s a mix of anger and desperation. 

There’s a lump in your throat and you realize that you truly are a coward and can’t tell him with words, so you do what a coward would do and shake your head. An entire new wave of shame enters your body now that you’re sat in front of Taehyung. His face falls, the line officially crossed. There’s no going back in this relationship. His jaw is unsteady as he fights whatever emotions are brewing inside him. 

“I need to go,” he says looking around the empty park. He loves you, he really does—but right now he can’t look at you. Your fight may have unofficially ended things between you two, but the fact you ran to Jungkook for comfort is what breaks his heart. What did Jungkook have, that Taehyung didn’t?

“Taehyung,” you stand up trying to stop him from walking away, “Please can we—“

“No Y/N,” he says, springing away from your grip that you had on his shirt, “We can’t.” 

It’s the last thing he says as he walks away. It’s feels almost a little too poetic. Not only is he leaving this city, but he’s leaving you here in it. Alone and heartbroken. Almost like how it was going to end up the entire time. 

⏤

It’s another week until you make it back into the studio in person. You’ve camped away in your apartment with Sushi for long enough—Sana, Seokjin, and others worried about you and your absence. You’ve had a lot of time to reflect as you been alone. You’ve been able to gather your thoughts and understand your rights versus wrongs. 

You haven’t seen or spoken to Taehyung since the other week ago in the park. You’ve attempted to call him a couple times to see if any peace can be amended, but to no avail. It’s been a weird transition for you—going from having everything in your life in order to everything blowing up in front of you so fast. Of course you’re sad, angry, frustrated, annoyed, and more. Your emotions were all over the place the last couple weeks. You had yet to feel closure with Taehyung which was killing you on the inside. You just hoped that he would eventually come around before he moved. You had no idea when he was leaving—but you needed to see him one last time before he goes. 

You’ve also been reflecting on the common denominator of the blow up of your life in the last two months. Jeon Jungkook. 

Jungkook came into your life full speed unafraid to crash into the brick wall in front of him. You know that you let your feelings for him get out of control but you also knew that wasn’t exactly something you could control. Consistently, he was just always there when you seemingly needed company. He says the right things, understands you, hears and listens to you. You’ve never had a connection with someone like that so quickly. However, he’s disappeared from your life almost as fast as he came in it. He checked in on your one more time after the first time, only this time you ended up responding, telling him that you were okay and just working from home. You weren’t fine, but the latter was true. 

Which is why you’re shocked when you come in on Tuesday morning to find him sitting on the floor outside your studio. You look around and listen in carefully—Seokjin isn’t even here yet and you came in early on purpose. It’s been your routine to avoid people—mainly Jungkook himself. You come in around 7 AM and leave by 3 PM, sneaking out before anyone would notice you were here. 

“J-Jungkook?” You ask, unable to believe that he’s here at this time. 

He looks up from his phone looking a little startled. He stands quickly, brushing his hands off on his sweatpants. 

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask, keeping a distance between you two. You feel a little insecure in your paint-stained denim shorts and white t-shirt that you actually slept in last night. 

He opens his mouth quickly, “I just,” he pauses closing his eyes for a moment, “I just wanted to see to you. I missed you," he admits a little shyly.

Your hands go clammy, heart quickening, but you’re nodding, silently agreeing with him. He steps aside to let you unlock your studio space, the sun already bright shining in. He follows in behind you, closing the door for privacy. You set down your bag on the small couch, watching him intently as he looks around. If there’s been one positive about your absence, it’s been how much work you’ve got done. 

You’ve finished approximately seven paintings in three weeks, an eight almost finished, which means you’ll finish just in time for the final exhibition next weekend. As much as you love apprenticeship life, you were more than ready for something new. 

“What do you think?” You approach Jungkook from behind as he stares at the finished paintings along the wall you’ve been hanging up to dry completely. 

“They’re exquisite,” he says with his mouth slightly agape, “A little sad,” he adds.

He’s staring at Drowning for the Sake of Drowning and Forward—a black and white charcoal piece of a female figure, hunched over with her face away, clearly distressed about something. You named in Forward in hopes that you can soon move past the stage of hiding and crying away alone. You don’t even realize Jungkook’s looking at you as you stare at the piece a little too long. 

“I’ve been worried about you.” 

You look at him when he breaks the silence, his eyes indeed looking confused, anxious, a little sad. 

“I know,” you say weakly. He turns around to face you, opening his mouth to speak but you cut him off in a rush—“I’m so sorry Jungkook.” 

He looks taken aback, his brows furrowing in confusion, “F-for what?” 

You’re confused as to why he’s confused, “I..” You pause licking your lips since they’re dry from you picking at them nervously, “For one I’m sorry for not being responsive. I'm sorry for dragging you into my mess. I came to you when I needed comfort but I feel like it came across that I was taking advantage of you in those moments—I don’t want you think that I was just trying to sleep with to make me feel better—“

“Is that what you think?” He cuts you off, stepping towards you. 

You don’t move, your feet frozen in place, “Well.. yeah?” You pause, “I don’t know I just didn’t know how to talk to you after what happened and with Taehyung I just—“

“Hey, hey,” he steps forward again, his hands grabbing the side of your face. God, his presence and touch were so comforting, “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” his voice is low and steady, “I’ve been so worried that something happened to you and I wanted to help but I knew that you wanted space. And for fucksakes, don’t ever say sorry for something like that Y/N,” he breathes out heavily and you almost feel tears spring in the corner of your eyes. You grab onto his wrists to steady yourself. 

“Jungkook I just feel like my whole life has been a shitshow the past couple months and I don’t know how to fix it,” your voice falls off, unsteady and unconfident. 

He shakes his head slightly, “Y/N you don’t have to ‘fix’ anything,” he says, “Life isn’t linear, we all have shitty times and we all have good times,” he pauses, “What’s important is how you deal with those things… shutting yourself off isn’t a way to deal with it,” his words almost have a humorous tone and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself. He looks at you confused again before asking what?

“You just always know what to say. It's annoying.” 

He laughs to himself, his hands moving away from your face to pull you into a hug. You return it happily, forgetting how nice his body feels against yours. 

“Thank you,” you mumble to him. 

“Anything for you, Y/N.” 

⏤

Your heels clank against the hardwood, feeling like it sounds similar to bricks being thrown into a dumpster as you feel extra sensitive to noises today. You’ve just entered the art exhibition that resides in a large gallery building downtown closer to the city. All the art has been transported over the last few days from all different departments. From Seokjin’s, to Park Kihyun’s, sculptors to oil-based paintings, to everything in between. 

You had yet to find where they displayed your artwork, going through the gallery slowly by yourself taking in everyone’s work one at a time. Again, your steps are heavy, anxiety rushing through your veins. This was always one of the worst parts of being an artists—displaying your pieces for everyone to critique and pick apart. Unlike the student’s art that was being displayed, you weren’t getting a grade but you still felt tremendous pressure for people to like your work. Art was all about getting people to like what you put out, which was much easier said than done. 

You run into your usual lunch crew; Lisa, Jisoo, and Yugyeom—sans Jungkook. You wondered where he was. 

“Y/N,” Lisa gives you a quick hug, “When did you get here?” 

“Like, ten minutes ago,” you tell her. 

“Have you seen your pieces?” She says quickly, almost too quickly. 

“No, why?” You respond in panic, “Did something happen to them?” 

Jisoo then laughs, “Nothing happened… they’re amazing. There was some man who was asking around for you, seemed to be important.” 

Your shoulders relax at the word of nothing bad happening to your pieces, but more anxiety creeping into your skin about the latter information. You let them know you’ll go check everything out soon, still wishing to look around before you found your own. You had looked at them enough the last few weeks—you needed a change of scenery. 

You walk into a smaller room where a particular name catches your eye. Jungkook’s artwork is in display with Yugyeom's. You wonder if they asked for that on purpose, a smile growing on your face as you stare at his work. 

Jungkook’s art works similar to yours—clean lines, realistic, the only difference is he utilizes a lot more color than you ever would. It matches him well though—he’s vibrant and commands attention in any room he walks into. One piece in particular catches your eye—Grapejuice Blues. 

It’s white sheets—similar to the ones on his bed—and a large, dark rouge staining them as a wine glass lays in the background. It’s almost painfully simple but it could easily be mistaken for a photograph. The familiar stir in your tummy occurs and you have to fight a smile. 

When you leave the alcove where Jungkook’s works reside, you decide to make it your mission to find your work. It doesn’t take you much longer, though you stop dead in your tracks when you do. Is this who Jisoo was talking about? 

You’d recognize his frame and head of hair through a crowd of hundreds. But there isn’t a crowd of hundreds and it’s definitely him—his tailored pants and dress shirt gives it away. He’s also holding what looks like a bundle of flowers. Your heart swells as you approach him. 

“Taehyung?” You ask. He turns around immediately, his warm eyes meeting yours, “What are you doing here?” 

He smiles slightly, looking down awkwardly at the flowers in his arms. He hands them over to you, “It’s been in my Google calendar for months, I didn’t want to miss it.” 

You heart thumps, but you’re a little confused, “Aren’t you mad at me?” 

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. You gladly return it, not caring if the flowers between you are squished a little. 

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him genuinely. It feels good to see him. 

“Of course,” his voice is deep as you pull away from him, “I was hoping I could run into you so I could give you this,” out of his pant pocket, he pulls out a folded up piece of paper. Your brows furrow as he holds it out for you to grab. 

“What’s this?” You ask him, taking it hesitantly. You start to unfold it before he stops you. 

“Don’t read it here—that’s my only request,” he laughs, his boxy smile peaking through a little bit. “Listen I have to run into the office this evening so I gotta go, but I’m glad I could see your work. It’s beautiful.” 

“Wait Taehyung,” you speak quickly, “I’m confused—when are you moving? We should talk…” 

He gives you a straight smile and you can tell he’s holding himself together for public. You are too. 

“Everything’s in there. We can talk soon,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek delicately, “I’ll love you forever.” 

He gets lost in the crowd as he walks away from you and whatever type of note he’s written you feels a thousand pounds in your hand. Your feet are about to pick you up to leave, giving it feels like you're heart was a glass castle and it was completely shattered. You suddenly felt all too claustrophobic surrounded by the art and people. 

You turn on your heel but this time you nearly run smack dab into someone. It’s a man who is dressed nicely but also has a touch of that specific art touch to him. 

“Are you Miss Y/N?” He says as you take a step back from him. You’re staring up at this random man, unable to find your voice. 

“Uh,” you pause, “Y-yeah, w-who are you?” Your throat is dry. You need to get out of here. 

“I’m Min Yoongi,” he speaks confidently, “I’m an art curator at a contemporary gallery in Gangnam, I was hoping to get your information to set up an interview. I was recommended to take a look at your work, but obviously I needed to see before I jumped to any type of deal. But I think your pieces are superb and I think I have some clients who would be interested in your work.” 

Your eyes widen, your breath taken away from you. And there it is again—life not being fucking linear. Two seconds again you felt on the verge of a panic attack, paper heavy in your hand and now you’ve forgotten about any of that as you speak to this Min Yoongi. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was observing the interaction from a distance, out of sight from either one of you. You look angelic in the white dress on your frame; it’s short, fitted in all the right places with an off the shoulder bodice. While Jungkook necessarily didn’t fit into the mold of his family, he was lucky to be apart of the Jeon family name. His father had connections everywhere. Jungkook wanted to help you as much as he could since he knew that if any apprentice here deserved an art career, it was you. 

Jungkook is currently staring at the final piece you had finished last week, a small smile growing on his face as he takes it in. It’s an odd, more abstract piece from you. The use of color was what really struck Jungkook as different for you. It’s a human heart shaped out of orange tiger lilies. Given his dress shirt was rolled up on his forearms, he looks down at his own tiger lily tattoo and he swears his heart leaps from his chest. He couldn’t put a label on what the relationship with you was, but he knew that you were special to him. 

When he glances back to where you stood with Min Yoongi, you’re gone. His eyebrows furrow, taking once last glance at your pieces before his feet carry him to find you. 

You’ve found solace outside, the warm air comforting on your exposed arms and legs. The flowers he gave you are beside you on the ledge you jumped up on to sit. Your hands shake as you read through Taehyung’s letter; fighting tears, smiling, and laughing through it all. 

It takes Jungkook about 10 minutes to find you and when he does, he can tell you’re upset. He hesitates going up to you, but you look like you needed a hug. You don’t even notice Jungkook approach you as you’re sat with your head in your hands, the letter read and laying on the other side of you. You’re not crying—thank god—but you’re feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions running through your veins right now. 

You're excited about the prospect of working for a gallery, wondering who exactly recommended Min Yoongi to come to the exhibit and look at your pieces. You're sad at the fact yours and Taehyung's relationship has come to its finality. It's weird having such contrasting emotions going through you, each one fighting for your attention.

When you see a pair of black dress shoes appear in your vision, you slowly look up to find Jungkook looking at you longingly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. He takes your breath away in his black dress shirt and checkered cigarette pants. 

“Hey,” he says simply. You don’t even think as you pull him by his arm into a bear hug as he settles between your legs. He laughs as you do so, hugging you back tightly, resting his head on your exposed shoulder, “You okay?” 

You shake your head, “Yes,” you say but then, “No—yes, I don’t know,” you groan into him, inhaling his scent. Your hands meet behind him around his waist as you squeeze him tightly. 

Taehyung’s not mad at you. 

Taehyung loves you. And he always will. 

He says he hasn’t reached a place of full forgiveness yet. 

But he knows that you have a right to be mad at him. 

He’s moving at the end of summer. 

He wants you to reach out with anything you need. 

He acknowledges that you two have grown into differences over the last five years. 

But he will always love you and he’s grateful for you. 

You know you’ll always love him too. 

You pull away from Jungkook slightly, thankful for his presence right now. He’s the best drug you've ever tried—warm and comforting—addicting and easy to get lost into. 

“Your work is beautiful Jungkook,” you tell him honestly, trying to get your mind off of the things bothering you. Today was a happy day. 

“Not as beautiful as you,” he responds slyly with a nose scrunch and you pinch his butt, “Quit it,” he laughs, pulling you off the ledge you’re sat on. 

“What are you doing?” You whine as he pulls you to him, his hands resting on your waist. 

“We're gonna dance,” he says simply as he pulls you flush against him. 

“Why?” You laugh as he begins to sway, your hands finding their way around his neck. 

“To make you feel better.”

“How do you know I don’t feel good?” You fight back. 

“Because I know you,” he pauses, “And I know what you look like when you’re happy and when you’re sad.” 

You feel your face get hot, a small smile growing on your face, “Well then what else do you know about me?” 

“Hmm,” he muses, “I know what you sound like when you like something,” he raises an eyebrow at you as you two continue to sway with no music or anything. You roll your eyes, a laugh emitting from you. “There it is,” he pinches your side as you swat away his hand with another laugh. He loves your laugh. 

“Stop it,” you tell him, stepping away from him some, your hands interlaced with his in between your bodies. 

“Feel better?” 

You shrug, “A little,” you say, studying his face. His expression doesn’t seem satisfied so you say as he scrunches his nose, “Yes, I do. God you’re so impossible.” 

He chuckles back at you, kissing your knuckles sweetly, “What are friends for?” 

“You’re really running this ‘friend’ thing into the ground aren’t you?” 

He freezes for a moment, chewing on his lip ring, “Only until you’re ready.” 

You mirror him as he readjusts your hands in his, “Ready for what?” 

He studies your face intently, a small smile growing across his features, "You know."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am"

"Are there no rooms available?"

"Sadly, the hotel is full for the season. I am sorry but you will have to find a room somewhere else."

You rub your temple for the upteenth time before speaking to the hotel manager yet again,

"This town hardly has any lodges or motels available. Where am I meant to go? Could you please adjust me to yours for a single night?"

"We are already overbooked. But you might find a small lodge on the outskirts of the town, near a strawberry plantation if you want a place to stay then."

"I- okay no problem. Thank you for your time." You huffed as you hung up the call.

You were in the middle of a sleepy town with no accommodation available. A one day trip turned to an overstay trip with you having missed the last bus back to Seoul.

Lazily, you start trudging down the hill where the main market was at, towards the outskirts of the town, hoping to find a room at the lodge the manager mentioned. It was 8pm but there was not a single soul visible, due to the cold. Hell, even you wanted to cozy up in your small apartment back home, with some shitty movie going on in the background and you zoning out.

Guess fate has something else reserved for you.

After a tiring walk of 30 minutes, you reach a small patch of strawberries. It was so dark and there was no fencing around that piece of land, so you had almost trampled the fruit under your feet. The strawberries were surrounded by trees on one side, the one facing you. Craning your neck to find some kind of lodge, as informed to you, a small flicker of yellow light gains your attention. You walk around the farm, if you can call it one, gingerly and come in front of the shabby little house.

The entrance of the lodge is covered in a lot of trellis and creepers you can't seem to recognise in the fog that has settled down due to the cold. A small window adjacent to the door was the source of the light that had caught your attention, a single lamp flickering behind it. Dense plantation hid the cottage from the main road, with the strawberry patch laying at the foot of the trees in front of the house. A small gravel filled path led up to the main door.

A board stating "Sugar Lodge" adorned the slanting roof, the words almost fading out at the edges. The cottage looked so old and shabby, it seemed like one strong gust of wind was enough for the walls to cave in.

You walked up to the front door, the gravel crunching under your feet and the occasional gusts of wind the only sound accompanying you. As soon as you reached the door, the light in the window went off and darkness engulfed your surroundings. Knocking thrice, you just hoped that your unexpected endeavor doesn't turn more annoying than it already was.

Oh how wrong you were.

The door opened to a man in front of you with a small candle in his hand. The darkness did not allow you to figure out his features but one that stood out easily was his deep scowl. He wore a loose shirt and shorts in this gut wrenching cold. You wondered how was he surviving as there was seemingly no warmth oozing out of his-

“The fuck you want?”

Yes, no warmth whatsoever. Even his voice resembled the chilly winter.

“You gonna say something? Stop staring at me girl, I know I look amazing.”

“I- is this how you talk to your guests?”

Your words did have an effect on him, but only for a fleeting moment when his small feline eyes widened a bit and he opened his mouth to apologize-

“If they don't have a sense of time, then yes.”

Or to annoy you more.

Even through your fury, you accepted the fact that it was late for someone with no life around them, but that didn't stop you from reciprocating his energy.

“Need a watch, sir? Because the last time I checked, 8.30 pm was not late.”

His hold on the candle tightened at your words and all those in his throat died when you started speaking again.

“So unless you'd like to watch me freeze to my death, please let me inside.”

He stepped aside to allow you in. The lodge was what you'd call humble. The owner, unfortunately not. You were standing in a room with a couch, a coffee table and an armchair all directed towards a small television set upon a table. The color and appearance of all these things was hard to make out due to the lack of lighting in the room, the only source being the candle in his hand. In two long strides, he reached the coffee table in the center of the room and set the candle on the small candle stand you noticed just then.

“If you are a guest, I'd like to inform you that the power has gone out. So the heater wont work.”

“It's okay. I am used to-”

“But I think there are enough blankets in the room to keep you warm. I'll show you to your room. It is a bit small but there is no other option. I will be down the hall on the opposite side, so if you need anything, just call me. We will discuss the pay tomorrow morning because I am so fucking sleepy right now, I wont be able to function…” and he went on while moving around the place in a rush.

You tried to speak but his unending speech didn't allow you to.

He almost seemed nervous, with his shoulders tensed up and eyes frantically moving here and there as if he was just realizing he owned this place. So you ended up following him down the hall and almost bumped into him, almost, when he suddenly stopped in front of a wooden door. Taking a few steps back, you braced yourself for his next words as he had paused his rant when you reached the door.

When he turned around, you saw his face knitted into confusion and eyes so narrow, they looked like two slits with darkness peering out.

“What?”

“Who told you about my lodge?” He sounded confused and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was scared.

“I tried booking a room at other motels, but unfortunately all of them were booked. One of them recommended yours and said I might find a room, so here I am.”

“Oh, okay. Did they say anything about me?”

“No. But now I wish they would have warned me about a certain grumpy man who owned this lodge.”

Why does he think that a random motel manager will give you details about him specifically? As if people just go on discussing lodge owners as a part of their routine.

“I am being quite generous right now so please save the banter for when I am fully awake.” He said in a rushed tone and pushed open the door.

“Whatever.” You mumbled and followed him inside the room.

A small bed attached to the window covered half of the room, with a wooden cupboard and a desk on its opposite side with a little plant placed upon it. The room was surprisingly clean and minimalistic, painted in seemingly earthly tones, giving you a warm feeling in the midst of this chilly winter. You couldn’t make out much of its interior due to the dim lighting, but all over the vibe was comforting.

The man stood awkwardly near the door as you explored each and every nook of the room. He cleared his throat to remind you of his presence and you did. You glanced at him once with a small smile adorning your features.

“It's nice.”

You could swear you saw a hint of bright pink gums when he smiled for half a second.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Is there a bell here, or something? How will I call you if I need help?”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“That's my name. Yoongi. Just shout it once and I’ll know you need me.” He was back to his irritating demeanor.

“Okay. Thank You. I am Y/N, by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever.” and with that he left.

What an asshole.

Well, your stay over here is going to be hell of a ride, you think and drift to sleep unknowingly.

—-------------

Mornings have always brought a sense of happiness to you. No matter whatever you might be going through, the fresh rays of warm sunlight always give you hope that everything will be better, that you'll do better. So when hope tries to peek through the curtains of your window, you crinkle your eyes in a soft smile and sit up straight.

And that's when everything comes rushing back to you.

A room you hardly remember, a bed as comfortable as yours but still different, and a man, whose sight stirs your insides, leaning against the doorframe casually.

“Morning.” he grumbles and without waiting for your response, continues.

“Breakfast is ready, so freshen up. I'll be waiting in the kitchen as we still have to discuss your rent.”

Not even a word out your mouth and he left, striding away in all his glory.

You check the time on the small wall clock and it's 7.30 am. Which means you'll still have to stay here for the next hour and a half, as the first bus to Seoul leaves at 9 am. Changing yourselves in a fresh pair of clothes, a loose gray turtleneck paired with brown pants, you tie your hair into a high ponytail and rush outside the door but not before taking a deep breath to prepare yourselves for whatever that is to come. The only thought that lingers in your mind while you make your way down the hall is-

For how long was he waiting at your door?

—-------------

Yoongi sits at the dining table with a mug in his right hand and a newspaper in his left. He doesn't seem to notice you entering and so you unknowingly check him out.

The man surely is handsome. Dangerously handsome, if you may say. His feline eyes scanned the paper with an intent gaze. With a jaw set to cut glass, thin pink lips mumbled incoherent words while reading off the thing in his hands. His face was so beautifully structured, he might have given a complex to the Greek gods. Veins visibly popped from his thick neck and ran the expanse upto his fingers which brought your attention to his hands clutching the mug tightly. His hands, oh his hands, they were a whole different story. Aforementioned veins handsomely crafted and structured his arms, two silver rings adorning his index and middle fingers. The thoughts that his nimble fingers brought to your mind were better hidden. As if the heavens were not satisfied with your misery, you noticed him wearing gray sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt. Oh, what a sight.

You couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that you were visibly ogling a stranger who annoyed the shit out of you, and as if on cue-

“For the second time, stop staring at me, I know I look amazing.”

His hoarse voice was enough for you to get out of your trance and back to your senses. His gaze is still intently set upon the newspaper and you hastily shut your mouth which had gone agape at his words.

“As if.” you huffed a scoff and continued “Discuss the rent now, shall we? I have to leave in an hour or so.” you speak while trying your best to not let your gaze go down to his fingers.

“About that, look out from the window.” he looks at you with pity and something that vaguely looks like concern shining behind his lids. So, you walk up to the window and feel your heart sinking to your toes when you drink in the sight in front of you.

The whole area is covered in knee deep snow. The roads that were visible last night have now vanished beneath the whites and a chilly wind carries its way around, all while being in the presence of slight sunlight. Apparently, as he proceeded to inform you, a snowstorm took place around midnight, engulfing the whole town in way too much ice leading to commute and travel being on a hold as the roads were nowhere to be found.

Which means, your trip extended itself for the second time in less than twenty four hours.

You feel yourself shutting down at this new information and quietly sink in the chair across from him. His eyes hold you with a new found care, his demeanor switching from grumpy to kind and hands itching by his side. Your face had lost its shine and when you spoke, your voice was akin to a dull, gray sky.

“Don't worry, I will book a room in one of the hotels for some time. One of them said that they will have a room free by tonight.”

Yoongi looks up at you with his eyebrows knitted into confusion and mouth open.

“Why would you do that?” his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Because I need a place to live for some days, you know, the snow has stopped all travel.” you say while moving your hands around you to prove your point.

“No, I mean, you can stay here. This is a lodge.” he says while emphasizing on 'lodge'.

“I know, but I am already a pain in the ass for you. I don't want to trouble you more.”

“You” his voice was so loud, you flinched and simultaneously, he grimaced at his new found energy. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued through gritted teeth.

“You are not a pain in my ass. Dont worry about me. You can stay here.”

To say you were stunned at his words would be an understatement. Why was he so keen at making you stay at his place?

“You would also be paying me, and I could use that extra money.”

Oh right.

Of course he was looking out for himself. It makes sense why he wants you to stay, he will be benefiting from it. You can't blame him for that though, when you were doing the same. He looked helpless but he didn't leave his stern look. You weighed out the options in front of you and frankly, he made more sense.

The town was covered in a blanket of snow and going out with your stuff to find a hotel sounded absurd so you agreed to stay at his and you both quickly discussed your rent for the next three days, the estimated time it would take to get the buses back on track.

A movement, furry and soft at your feet made you push your chair back and shriek like a woman dying. The voice out of your throat was so loud that Yoongi rushed to your side to check the inconvenience.

“Oh my god. You could have told me you owned a pet. I feel like my heart is in my hands.”

“Stop being overdramatic. Sugar is the sweetest cat you'll ever meet.” he says while crouching down and scratching Sugar on his head.

A British Shorthair, Sugar indeed was one of the cutest you had ever seen. He rubbed himself against your leg and purred while all you could do was coo at him. Yoongi picked him up from your feet and started talking with him while pouting. When he smiled, a set of bright pink gums peeked out and you smiled on impulse. His interaction with Sugar was so sweet, you couldn't help but see it with heart eyes. Yoongi looked different, a good difference. He almost seemed … lovable.

Back up Y/N. What are you even thinking about! He can't be lovable. It's just what Sugar does to people, one feels giddy in the cat's presence.

While their incoherent mumbling and purring is going on, you look around the kitchen. It was perfectly set up, not even a stain was in sight as a plate of scrambled eggs and a mug of coffee caught your eye. Yoongi had told you that breakfast was ready, maybe this one was for you.

You set the plate down on the table and start eating like you haven't eaten in ages.

"Calm down, the eggs are not running away." he said while putting Sugar down and striding towards his seat.

" 'ese aa foo' " you try to say through a mouth full of some of the best eggs you have ever tried.

"What?" The chuckle that follows his words is light and adorable which makes you give him a small toothless smile and gulp your food down quickly to give him an answer.

"I said, these are good."

"Thank You." the shyest you had ever seen him in the expanse of your short stay, he wouldn't even dare to look in your eyes.

Maybe this stay won't be as bad as you had anticipated.

—-------------

The next two hours pass in a blur. You had settled down in your room, reading a small novelette you had brought along. The cold had settled down a bit and the sun shone mildly at 10 am. Everything felt as if in a dream. The sight out of your curtains was heavenly, little flakes of snow perched at the sill and Sugar making time to time appearances in the yard outside. It was not snowing, but the wind

was a tad bitter so you decided to bring the cat inside.

Slinging your coat over your shoulders, you make your way to the backyard through the small door in the kitchen. You find Sugar pawing at the snow near the wall of what seems like Yoongi's window.

You pick him up and go back to the front door of the lodge, because you felt like taking a walk around the house in the deep snow. A shitty decision, which led to your feet and pants getting soggy.

Tiptoeing back to your room, you cleaned yourself up and realised the importance of arranging and planning clothes on a trip. Your pants were now completely wet so you had to put on your spare ones, with the thought in mind that you'll have to survive three more days in this place.

A trail of dirty water had made its way from the door to your room so when you opened your door, the sight that welcomed you was a horrified Yoongi. Instinctively, you took a step back. His expression was so fatal, you felt as if he might kill you right there for messing up his clean tiles.

"I , I'll clean it up. Sorry."

"No" he shouts while extending an arm in front of him and stepping back.

"No, I'll do it myself. No matter what, you are a guest. Just remember to use the doormat and the cloth beside the door the next time you set your foot out." he said in a comparatively lower voice and ran away quickly.

And all this while, all you could do was stare at him dumbfoundedly.

Yoongi cleaned up the whole place in a jiffy while you set on the task to tidy up your room, not wanting to be anywhere near him after the deed you had done.

It was around noon when the dire need of quenching your thirst pulled you out of your room and brought you straight to the kitchen. Yoongi was standing in front of the stove chopping some onions. You sneakily went up beside him and asked with your smallest voice yet

"What are you making?"

Yoongi jumped at your voice and accidentally cut his finger. He stared at you with eyes as wide as saucers while fresh drops of blood peeked through his cut.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." You frantically let out while moving around to do something that might help him.

"It's okay, it's okay. Just please stand there quietly and don't do unnecessary work." he said and shoved his finger under the running tap, occasionally flinching when the water ran too deep.

"Sorry" you mumbled and stood off to the side and watched him carefully wipe his finger once the blood had stopped. You held out a band aid you had spotted in a drawer during your frantic search, which he snatched quickly and dressed his cut.

"Pasta."

"Huh?" your eyebrows joined due to your utterly confused state.

"You asked what I was making. It's pasta." he said and got back to chopping onions, ones which surprisingly, didn't water your eyes. You had asked a question? Oh right, that's how this mishap happened.

"Right. How, how can I help you?"

"You can't. So it's better if you don't."

"I can, I know how to cook. Please let me do something Yoongi, I feel bad." you instinctively brought your hand up to his forearm, to which he responded by looking away.

He pondered over the excuses for a whole moment, before letting out a relatively dumb one.

"I need to bring some things for the sauce, there's nothing you can even do so leave it." he said while looking everywhere but you. You brightened up as the light bulb of an idea went off above your head.

"Perfect." you chimed.

"No." he groaned as he understood your intentions and snapped his head back to you.

"Yes. Please, let me. I know my way around and I won't mess up this time." a pout on your lips was all he needed to again, look away.

You could see the hesitation on his face, but you were not the one to back away. Instead, you obediently stood there with your hand still on his arm.

"Okay. I'll give you the list. Just don't get lost on your way."

"Yes, chief." you saluted, with a giggle and scurried away to get your coat. You noticed how he pulled out a small pencil from the front drawer. What you didn't notice though, was the red color that shaded his ears.

—------------

The walk to the nearest grocery store was tiring as fuck. You had put on big gum boots to save yourself from the snow, which didn't help your walk at all. Yoongi had given you a small list of three to four items, and now is when you regret offering your help to him. Of Course he is annoying and of course you would like to get out of his lodge as soon as possible, but your humanitarian instincts, which made you human, kicked in, and you decided that helping him by going out in this gut wrenching cold was the best thing you could do.

A lone boy made his way out of the store when you went inside. The insides were brightly lit but seemingly devoid of people. You made your way around to collect all the things you needed and went up to the counter. Just then, a person decided to approach the dozing off cashier at the same time and crash into you.

Fortunately, only your purse flew out of your hands and landed at the said person's feet. He quickly picked it up while chanting "sorry" as a mantra and looked up at you from his crouched down position. A move that made him drop the purse again. This time though, he picked it up without dropping it back and straightened up to tower above you.

"I am so sorry, I didn't see you in my haste." A voice dipped in honey ringed in your ears when he spoke. His face rendered the regret he mentioned and you waved your hand dismissively.

"No worries. It was my fault too." A small smile found its way on your lips when his shoulders relaxed and eyes glimmered with relief.

He stretches his hand towards to counter to usher you forward, "After you, Ms.-"

"Y/N." you say while shimmying towards the now awake cashier.

"Minhyuk."

You give him a polite nod while paying for your things and then stepping aside to let him. He looked like he could star in movies. Towering at a little less than 6 feet, his face was well structured, with full lips and doe eyes. He was sturdily built and wore a sweatshirt with dark gray pants. His eyes gleamed brightly and a small smile never left his face.

"Y/N, you seem like a tourist."

"Is it that obvious?" you laugh and turn towards the door, hoping he follows you.

"Kind of, yeah. You are dressed up to go out, definitely not to buy groceries." he said while following you outside the store and letting out a light chuckle.

"I like an observant young man. What about you?"

"Do I like a lady who overdresses, definitely?"

His words make you blush deeply and you struggle to find your voice but still manage to emit a hearty chuckle at his words following it with

"I meant, are you a local, or a tourist?"

"Oh. Well I am kind of both. My grandparents live here, so I am here, in this town, at least once a year." he smiled while standing beside you and staring at the sky.

Just a few words of niceties with him were enough to sweep off the annoyance and embarrassment within you. Conversation with him grew steadily as you reached a crossroad, him going to the left and you heading ahead. A strange feeling inside you, a gleeful thought stopped you dead in your tracks and made you look back at him.

Only to find him looking at you with a soft smile while taking slow steps back which eventually came to a halt when he felt your stare. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, stammering to find an excuse, only for you to speak up.

"Minhyuk?"

"Yes?" his eyes softened upon seeing your shy smile.

"I'm a tourist. Would you mind being my guide around the town?" you asked sheepishly, almost in a whisper.

His eyebrows shoot up enough to get covered by the strands of soft hair falling on his forehead, but then suddenly his expression changed, softer than you had ever seen.

"I would love to."

—-----------

You return to the lodge with your biggest smile, which Yoongi notices right away, wondering what did a trip to the store do to make you so happy. You set your purchases on the kitchen counter while humming a bright tune and turn around to sink in the armchair across from the kitchen. Yoongi's suspicion only grew when you kept on checking your phone from time to time, while he prepared the sauce.

Half an hour had passed in a heartbeat, when he set a plate full of pasta in front of you, the pasta looking like it was made by a Michelin star chef. You immediately resorted to gulping down the food like a woman starved, mumbling praises for the chef, not knowing the said chef had turned red as a tomato. Just when he opened his mouth to mumble a small thanks, your phone ring went off with 'Minhyuk' flashing across the screen. You immediately accepted the call and excused yourself from the table, scurrying towards the back door and then out to the porch to talk with him.

Now, Yoongi wasn't one to indulge in others business, but your light hearted giggles and excited tone of talking fell to his ears like prickling thorns. Not that he despised your voice, no. He despised the fact that you never laughed in front of him. Shaking his head, he wondered where that thought even came from. He doesn't care about you or your sickly sweet giggles. Get yourself together, Yoongi he thought and started focusing on his pasta, trying to not eavesdrop on your way too loud conversation.

After ten minutes, you returned back to a cold dish and a similar Yoongi. His back was turned to you while he was doing the dishes.

"I didn't make them for you to leave them just like that." he grumbled, though it seemed like he was talking more to himself than you.

"I had something I needed to take care of. By the way, I already said the pasta was good." you ate the said food, even if it was cold.

Yoongi very well knew that nothing was being taken care of by the way the conversation sounded. He scoffed at your words and continued his work when suddenly you spoke up again, this time, raging a storm within him.

"Don't make dinner for me today, I am going out -" you told him quietly and grimaced when he snapped his head back at you.

"On a date." you continued.

"You were here for hardly a day and have already snagged a date? Impressive." 

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words and at his new found bitterness. Why did he even care? It's not as if you both were friends that you needed to tell him about each and every encounter of yours with a guy.

"What is your problem? Am I commenting on your ways of living?"

"That's because I live pretty normally, unlike you."

"Oh Mr. Yoongi, you'd be surprised to know how normally you live." you say while making air quotes around normally.

At this moment, you both were face to face with each other, him being slightly taller than you. You could see his eyes narrow a bit and hands curl into fists, chest rising up and falling down due to the storm inside him and ears red, hopefully due to the anger. He could see your determined eyes and face, contorted in frustration. You take out your tongue to wet your lower lip, which had gone dry due to the cold, his eyes momentarily following that movement until he snapped his eyes back up to yours.

"You know what? Go and date that goody two shoes of yours."

"You know what? I will." were the last words you said as you fled from the room and away from him.

As Yoongi watched you go to your room, he tried to reason his own actions. Why had he acted in such a way? What had raged a storm inside of him? He was not able to wrap his mind around that, still standing at that same place as he was when you left.

—------------

It has been two days since your last interaction with Yoongi. He didn't seem to care to come to call you for breakfast or lunch anymore. You never saw him except for the occasional moments when you both passed each other in the kitchen.

You hit it off well with Minhyuk and thus planned to extend your stay by some more days to see where it goes. You liked him, but you both were not in a relationship yet, given the fact that you had gone on just two dates. He lived in Seoul, so if something got serious between the two of you, it wouldn't be difficult. Given the fact that he was planning to stay at his grandparents for a week more, and since you had nothing good to do at home, you planned to stay. Another reason to prolong your trip was that if things weren't to work out, you didn't want to take that back with you to Seoul. If you needed to end things, you'd better do it in a place you were most likely not to visit again than at a place which would remind you of him and your memories.

So you set on searching Yoongi around the lodge, to inform him about the change in your plans. The snow had cleared off a lot by now, the road and plants peeking from here and there. Even the cold had settled down to a bearable extent. As you continued your search, you found him crouched down near the strawberry plantation which lay in front of the lodge, one you had almost trampled on your first night here.

His back was turned to you so you creeped up beside him and cleared your throat to inform him of your presence. When he looked up at you, his eyebrows were furrowed, seemingly in concern, while he held a shriveled up and damaged strawberry in his hand. He cocked an eyebrow at you, his way to inform you why you decided to interrupt him while he took care of his precious strawberries.

"I am not leaving." Shit that sounded so bad. Both of you grimaced together, as soon as those words left your mouth.

"I mean, I am staying here for a week more. So extend my rent accordingly."

"You are staying here for this long? Why?"

"I -, I, umm, kind of, for Minhyuk." grimacing 2.0. Who the fuck talks like this Y/N? Get your act together, girl.

"I, We are kind of doing well and I am on leave already, from work. So I decided to stay longer."

The rising feeling in Yoongi's stomach when you had mentioned your prolonged stay, settled down as soon as you mentioned the reason.

"Oh, okay. As you wish." he said meekly and turned his attention back to the dying fruit in his hand.

You observed the way his expression softened, a concerned and scared one taking the place of the annoyed, bitter one. His hands trembled a bit as he set the strawberry down and let out a deep sigh, moving on to examine the next one. This one was worse than the previous one. The snow shone from the little crevices of the berry and the red color had faded to a dark brown, the leaves all dark and shriveled up. When you let your eyes trail around you, you saw that the whole patch was covered with the remnants of the snow. Chunks of the leftover snow were clearly visible amidst the strawberries which were now poorly affected by the sudden change in the weather.

"They are not doing well due to the snow." you speak out your concerns loud but in a cautious voice as he keeps down the fruit and stands up straight.

"Yes. Usually they can bear the cold, but not this much though." his eyes had gone dry and seemed tired. There was no sign of mirth on his face, he was drowned in sadness and concern for his dying strawberries. A soft, low chuckle resonated from him as he continued

"My grandfather used to take care of them. He was so efficient and he loved the strawberries like his own children. He talked to them, watered them, took care of them, all out of pure love and affection. He never sold them, even though they were the best in our town. He used to give baskets full of strawberries to people as gifts and blessings. He would have found a cure for them today, wouldn't have let them die, like I am, unfortunately." he finished with sadness engulfing him.

"Your grandfather must have been an amazing man."

"He was, indeed." and a soft, lone smile etched his lips as he reminisced about his late grandfather. "But I am not, as the berries are now dying because of my lack of care and knowledge."

You didn't know you'd ever think this, but he looked like an angel at that moment. Even with his features drowned in worry and sadness, his aura radiated peace and a strange sense of comfort that pulled you into him. You wanted to engulf him in a warm hug and tell him that everything will be okay, the strawberries will live on and he is not letting them die, just like his grandfather.

You fish out your phone from your back pocket as your habit, when an idea strikes you.

"Yoongi…" you begin way too enthusiastically. He hums to let you know he is listening, so you continue, "I have an idea."

He immediately looks up at you with big, round, hopeful eyes.

"An…an idea?"

"Yes. Do you know any place in this town where I can use the internet? My phone's network is out of reach."

"Umm, yes. There are many cafes in the main city which will provide you with internet, but…" he seems genuinely curious which only increases on seeing the cheeky grin on your face as he continues, "...what's the point?"

You groan, audibly groan, tired of the man not being able to pick up a simple thing.

"Ughhh Yoongi! I can use the internet to help you. It will give me ideas on how to save these strawberries of yours. What are you? A boomer?" 

His eyes widen with amusement and a small smile plays on his lips which is soon wiped off by his furrowed eyebrows.

"But, why would you help me?"

"Unlike you…" you begin with a roll of your eyes, "I am a good person, who likes to help people…" his turn to roll his eyes, "...regardless of their previous behaviour." you finish with a lopsided grin and sparkling eyes which pulls him towards you, but he stands his ground.

"Are you sure?" you nod eagerly, which still doesn't convince him as his expression doesn't change.

You walk towards him and put your hand on his arm, surprised by the feeling of taut muscles under your fingers. Yoongi is not buff, but seems like he is really well built.

"I am." Just these two words seal the deal for you both as he nods shyly and ducks his head to look away, grumbling a small 'thank you' and then moving away from you.

You stand there dumbfounded by his strange behaviour, the one where he was incredibly soft, like a squishy bear. Stop it, Y/N, your inner voice shouts as soon as you think this, but you still keep on staring at your fingertips, missing the warmth they felt previously.

—------------

"Are you sure about this?"

"A hundred percent. Just hold my hand, Y/N."

You glaze your eyes over the vast ice rink in front of you and your knees threaten to give up. Apparently, Minhyuk decided that for your fourth date, you should go ice skating, a sport you miserably fail at, and a fact he was unaware of. Two small girls move slowly around the edge of the rink, holding the railing to support themselves, and occasionally giggling and falling. A young couple, moving smoothly across the ice, hand in hand and eyes holding stars for the other. 

Watching them, your stomach sinks a level deeper. You and him are going well, but he still fails to occupy your thoughts continuously. You have convinced yourself that the fact you are not thinking about him does not mean that you don't want to be with him, or give it a try, but the rom com infested part of your brain dares to oppose and puts you into a mess of thoughts and emotions you can't sort out.

You pull out your phone to stop these thoughts, and a notification succeeds in doing so.

'Free Wi Fi available near you. Tap to connect.'

You quickly connect to the open, free wi fi of the skating rink and start seeing images of a certain pink flash of gums in your mind. Smiling to yourself, you start surfing the internet, failing to give attention to the man in front of you, who calls you for the fourth time. Giving up, he snatches the phone from your hand and you snap from your daze.

"Strawberries?" he looks at you and then back to the phone, repeating the action twice to ensure the sight in front of him, "... tips on defrosting them?" he gives you your phone back as he might have realised that asking you about things you haven't cared about telling him means you don't want to, especially on your fourth date. But he still continues, "I thought you were an editor of a fashion magazine. Thinking of switching to a farmer?" he finished with an amused smile.

"Shut up." you smack his forearm and usher him towards the ticket counter. "I am just trying to help a friend in need." 

A friend.

You don't know why you said it. Actually, you don't know many things. You don't know what you and Yoongi are. You don't know why he is on your mind when your potential future boyfriend is standing in front of you. You don't know if he thinks about you as frequently as you do about him. You don't know what he is doing right now. You don't know that back home, Yoongi is trying to divert his mind from the fact that you are on a date, from the sting he feels, from the touch you left on his arm, a burning surface which he rubs again and again, partly to ward off your touch and partly to feel it again, somewhere else.

"Indeed." Minhyuk says and brings you back to the dread in front of you, skating.

He advances towards the benches to wear the equipment, as you follow him absentmindedly. The date goes on, um, well from then on. You like it, you do, but you don't enjoy it the way you expected to. Minhyuk is indeed a gentleman. The only problem, he is way too much of a gentleman. When your feet slipped and your knees gave up, he failed to steady your fall as his grip on your hand was loose. He soon apologized for it, excusing his lack of action as shyness in holding you as you might feel uncomfortable. He literally said these words, leaving you speechless to this poor of a reason.

You soon gave up on it and settled on a bench nearby to the rink. You sure did share some good moments with him, but none of them were able to light a spark within you, or make you watch at him in awe, or even shyness. It all felt a little too… platonic. A feeling had you enraptured, that maybe he is just good as a friend, an amazing friend, as you both hit it off well. But the aspect of dating him didn't sit well with you, especially when he sat down beside you, his hands undoing his skates but his eyes elsewhere.

A tall, blonde woman reciprocated his stare and gave a bright smile at his sight. She soon made it over to the bench you both were at and waved happily, Minhyuk quickly setting aside his skates and standing up to greet her with a hug. 

You? Oh, you were sitting there forlornly, even though you were not alone, as he struck up a conversation with her, one that had both of them double over by laughing. You knew nothing about what to do in a situation where your date is entertaining another woman and forgetting to introduce you to her. 

You took your time in undoing your skates so that you had something to do when luckily, to save you of the embarrassment, she turns towards you and extends a hand forward.

"Hey, I'm Yerin." a tone dipped in honey talks to you when she opens her mouth.

"I'm Y/N. Nice meeting you." you clasp her soft hand into yours and are glad that you didn't stammer.

"Oh yeah. Yeji this is Y/N my date and Y/N, she is Yerin my …. ex girlfriend." Minhyuk states a bit uneasily as he moves his hand between the both of you, succeeding in doing an awkward introduction.

The last part of his sentence comes out in a whisper but it was something you had guessed by the way his eyes gleamed at her sight, his ears and cheeks flushed red when he hugged her and teeth peeking out in a handsome smile at every little joke she made.

Her eyes widen at his words, but she masks her surprise well except for one thing. Her eyes reflect her pain that even her wide smile isn't able to cover. She is hurt by the fact that he is here with his date, you. But she knows better than to act on it, so the conversation flows smoothly.

Yeji is an absolutely gorgeous woman. Throughout your whole interaction, she has been nothing but kind to you and her ex. When she leaves, her hug with Minhyuk  seems to last longer, an act that brings a soft smile to your face. He stared at her back until she was out of sight, mixed with the crowd now leaving the rink. He looked back at you with a tight lipped smile and guided you towards the exit, without any words. His heart is still somewhere else, but his hands are on the small of your back. Out of all this, you were sure of one thing, which was obvious to each and every eye around them.

Both of them were still in love with each other.

As you had hoped, this revelation did not sting you or made you feel jealous. Instead, you felt a weird sense of relief, partly because the confusing storm inside you had subsided as clarity shone brightly through your mind, and partly for a reason you don't know.

None of you say a word but each and every time you look at him, his eyes hold a forlorn stare, a longing you were able to place right away when you mentioned how nice Yeji was and his face brightened up immediately. 

"We broke up a while ago when she had to go to Europe. She was planning to settle down there but returned recently. I didn't know she was back until now. Even though she lives in Seoul, I don't know what she was doing here." he says while walking down the road to the lodge with you. 

"Is she with anyone else?"

"I don't know. I hope…" he shakes his head to get that thought out of his head and instead continues, "We haven't talked in a long while. I don't know what she is doing now." his eyes never meet yours and you have never been sure of anything before.

He doesn't hug you goodbye, nor do you, when you reach the front entrance. His eyes glaze over the strawberry patch and he gives you a knowing smile before heading away with a small wave as a goodbye. 

You take a deep breath and start walking towards the door with a thing set in your mind. That day, at the store, you found an amazing friend, but not a person you could develop any romantic feelings for, and he knows that now.

—------------

It's been two days since you officially stopped going on dates with him. You haven't stopped seeing him, though. But everything is strictly platonic. He told you today that he will try talking to Yeji again about their relationship and you have never been more happy for him.

On the other hand, Yoongi doesn't know a single thing about what is going on between you two. He doesn't know that you had found a friend in a guy he thought would be your boyfriend. You still go out to meet him and Yoongi's heart still sinks deeper with each action of yours.

The sun was hiding in the clouds today, playing a game of hide and seek with everyone trying to receive its warmth. The strawberries were getting better day by day. Both of you worked on them, without sharing a single word among yourselves. Each and every time you told him something, he'd reply with a curt nod or painfully short replies. You didn't even see him much nowadays, except for the occasional run ins during meals or at the strawberry patch.

You set Sugar down on the carpet of the living floor, who had run up to you as soon as you had entered the lodge. Once again, he was nowhere to be seen. You go to your room and get ready to sulk. You could've left early but you wanted to see the progress of the fruits, which is amazing and the berries are not dying now. Yoongi's actions make you doubt your stay. Unlike before, he doesn't even look your way now. No knocks on your door to call you for your meals, no fun interactions while cooking and eating, no playing with Sugar in front of you, nothing.

You feel like you have overstayed your welcome. Even though you are gonna pay for it, you don't have any particular reason to stay here longer. Your boss doesn't need you back at work right away, but the person you are staying with also doesn't need you. So it’d be better if you saved your money by not spending it on accommodation you don't even need in the first place.

Each and every time you make up your mind to leave that day, your heart opposes it. Each and every time you close your eyes, a sight of pink gums and feline eyes greets you. Each and every time you drown out the unnecessary voice around you, a low, deep laugh rings in your ears. It aches your heart. All of these things keep on breaking you slowly. You can't seem to reason his distance from you, his dislike for you. So, to soothe the dying pain in your chest, you open your door to go to his room, maybe to talk with him, or maybe to just soak yourself in his presence.

As soon as you open your door, a plate of food greets you just outside the threshold. It was 2pm and you hadn't had lunch yet, a fact Yoongi knew. Due to your recent unspoken arrangement, he didn't come to call you, or even knock at your door. He just set that plate outside your room because somewhere he knew, you weren't going to have your meals on time. Everything blurs in front of you as the tears form in your eyes.

Your actions recently are something you are not able to explain, even to yourselves. Why do you feel the need to cry? Especially on seeing that Yoongi cares for you? He is just a friend right? A friend you haven't talked to in the last four days, despite living in the same house. A friend you don't even know is a friend anymore or not?

You miss your friend. His annoying grumbling and sickly irritating smile. His know-it-all behaviour and instances of flushed cheeks and shiny eyes. His feel beneath your fingertips whenever you touched him. His adorable look when he watches you play with Sugar, a thing you had noticed twice before. You missed Yoongi so much, it was hard to stay in the same place as him knowing that you can't do anything. Knowing that you can't embrace him, can't talk to him about your day, can't joke with him anymore, can't tell him the things running in your mind, can't kiss him.

Of course you don't know where the thought to kiss him came from. But now that it has, it's the only thing in your mind and it's eating you up so bad, you take the plate in front of you and eat the contents quietly while going back to your bed. As soon as you end it, you start packing up your things. You need to get out of here as soon as you can as staying here longer is not good for you, your heart, your mind and maybe, Yoongi.

As you go through your things, you find out that one of your cardigans is missing. Not dwelling too much on a missing piece of cloth, you take your time in packing up and get ready by 3.30 pm. The only thing you want to do now is see Yoongi. You ready an envelope with the money you owe him and head towards his room, your luggage already at the front door.

You knock on his door thrice, none answered. So you slowly turn the handle and push open his door, only to find him sleeping peacefully on his bed. You walk up to him and a swarm of butterflies rises in your stomach when you see the thing in his hands, while sleeping.

Your missing cardigan is clutched closely to his chest by him, his head dipping unconsciously towards it and him inhaling the scent. Your scent, to be precise. He looks at peace while sleeping soundly as he holds a piece of you with himself, both, literally and metaphorically. You observe him and find traces of dried up tears on his cheeks. He was crying. And you were not worthy to be told about his miseries. Maybe you should leave right now, so he doesn't have to face you again.

You painfully keep the envelope on his bedside table and lean down to kiss his forehead but stop midway, instead blowing him a flying kiss and scurrying out of the room. Of course, the cardigan was a mistake. If he found even an ounce of comfort in you, he wouldn't have distanced himself from you like this. Maybe the soft material comforted him as he was clearly in dire need of it. You have added a short note in the envelope, to explain your sudden departure. Not wanting to face him ever again, you rush to the main door.

A new wave of tears hit you when you meet Sugar pawing your luggage at the door. You are leaving so much behind that you feel incomplete as you pick Sugar up to cuddle him one last time before leaving. As soon as you kiss his head, a sleepy voice startles you.

"Y/N." Yoongi says while rubbing his eyes as he stands in the hallway, outside his bedroom.

He opens his eyes and looks at you in confusion. Then, his eyes rake over the luggage at your feet and a strong wave of panic washes over him. He visibly shivers and his eyes start getting glossy.

"Are you leaving me?" he asks in the most painful voice ever, his eyes open wide and lips trembling, hands twitching by his side and eyebrows furrowed.

Your heart shatters into a million pieces on seeing him, hearing him and over the aspect of confronting him. You stay quiet as he approaches you with quick long strides and holds your shoulders with both his hands, shaking you out of your daze and yells,

"Are you leaving me?"

You give him no answer again. All you do is stare at him, trying to keep your eyes devoid of any emotions. He shakes you violently this time,

"Fucking answer me, can't you hear me? Are. You. Leaving?" he shouts at a voice so loud, something snaps inside you.

"Yes." you shout back, louder than him, as his hands slide down your shoulders and return back to his side. "Yes, I am leaving." you complete by sniffling your tears.

He doesn't take your answer well and stumbles backwards, almost colliding with the armchair behind him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before closing his fists and opening his eyes again.

"Why?" a voice merely louder than a whisper comes out of him.

"Why? Yoongi? Are you really asking me this?"

He looks up at you in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. I think I overstayed my welcome. And, I also need to go back to work now, so I have to leave." Thank god you didn't stutter, but that wasn't enough for him.

"Bullshit." he spits out, while moving towards you.

"It's not."

"It is. I can clearly see that you are lying. What's the real reason Y/N ?" he presses, his voice increasing by every second.

"You wanna know the real reason?!" you mumble, a light scoff punctuating your words.

"Yes. Yes I do." he shouts, now way too near you, your noses almost touching. "Do you think I'll believe you? One second you are staying here for a guy, going on dates with him and the next you pack up your bags saying you overstayed your welcome? That now suddenly your work is calling you. I haven't once said you that - "

"I am not dating him anymore." you cry out and he shuts up.

"What?" genuine curiosity dripped from his voice.

"We called it off a while ago. I was trying to tell you that but you were not ready to hold a conversation with me, ever." your eyes land at the armchair behind him.

You need to continue, need to get it out before you leave. You can't let him shout at you and just stand there, burying your anger while he lets it all out. You straighten up and stop your tears completely, look him straight in his eyes and jab your index at his chest.

"You wanted to know the real reason, right?" without waiting for him to answer, you continue, your new found confidence fueling your words, "It's you."

"Huh?"

It hurts when you look at him like this. He looks like a lost puppy, eyes wide and pleasing, face flushed red and his whole body trembling. Your lips tremble and tears threaten to fall out, but you brace yourselves.

"Yes. Oh my god Yoongi…" you pull away from him, start moving around and gesture vaguely with your hands, as you get hyped up about how indifferent he is right now. "... You act like you literally hate me. You can't even come and talk to me, even when I try to…"

"Y/N"

"... And then you have the fucking nerve to ask me that why am I leaving? I know, I know you don't like interacting with strangers but I…" you let the first year fall down, "I thought we were more than that. Clearly, I was mistaken."

He stands still, trying to comprehend your outburst. Giving up, though you should not, but you do, you collect your luggage and trudge towards the main door, which is like three steps away.

Faster than light, Yoongi runs and stands between you and the door. He pleads with his eyes, he pleads with his body language, he pleads with his hands, he pleads by shaking his head. The only thing he is yet to plead with, is his words.

"Step. Aside." you grit through your teeth.

"No."

"Fucking step aside. Can't you listen to me atleast once?"

"No." he shouts.

"At Least say something else, you coward. You are chanting the same word like a mantra. Do you even know how much I am…" your voice raises suddenly and you finally snap for the worst, " … dying to hear you? Your irritating laugh? Your annoying words? Why the fuck are you saying just no, from those sickly sweet lips of yours? I never thought I would say this, Yoongi, but I really think I made a mistake by attaching myself to you. I think I have started to lo-" you catch yourself in time and lean forwards, nose almost brushing with his, "It hurts so much to know that you don't feel the same…" you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, "That you'll never feel the same, that you'll never-"

His lips drown out your next words as he smashes them onto yours. The action was swift but it melted you in an instant and when he started moving his lips against yours, you reciprocated his actions. The kiss walked a fine line between rough and gentle. His actions, ever so sweet but fiery at the same time. An electric feeling jolted you, providing you with a new found ecstasy. The warmth from his soft lips doused you into a feeling of summer in the death of winter. You felt a burst of so many emotions, all at once, everything was overwhelming. Even though all of these things were happening at the same time, you didn't want to stop. But fuck oxygen, then.

He pulled away from you and rested his forehead against yours.

A beat passed. The silence was so loud, your heartbeat was audible clearly, mixed with the erratic beating of his. Yoongi chose it as the perfect time to break the silence by-

"I love you."

Time stops. Not in the cheesy way but it really does. You can't seem to breathe, but you also can't seem to take your eyes away from him. You could count his eyelashes, observe the slope of his nose, remember each and every contour of his face from up this close. His closed lids let you stare at him a moment longer, but when he opens them, your heart somersaults and threatens to fall to the ground.

He loves you.

The realization hits a million times harder than you had ever imagined. Have you ever been this happy? Everything seems hazy around you. When you meet his eyes, the only thing that is going on in your mind is Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi, I love you too. But before you can let the words out, your love, your object of undying affection, is cupping your cheek in his rather big, but oh so warm hands.

"Y/N?" he was unsure, scared. Afraid that you will push him away, his warmth and finally stop his heart from breathing after it has sunk down this low in all these days. Maybe he needs it, he thinks. He needed you to reject him to move on, to get you out of his mind, heart, life, everything. Maybe he misread your outburst as affection? As you had stayed quiet for so long now, he doubted everything he had ever known, his heart breaking into a thousand pieces and a sinking feeling settling itself in his chest. You need to react in some way or else he will die just looking at you being so dreamy and awestruck, confused. His string of thoughts was cut short by your mouth.

This time, it was you who initiated the kiss. You did it, for you didn't know how else to respond to him and maybe for the feeling in your chest that compelled you to do so, pulled by his thin but plump, soft lips and his strange love for you. As they say, actions speak louder than words. No words could describe what you wanted to say to him, and so, you resorted to acting on your instincts.

The kiss heated up quickly as he glided his tongue along your lips, asking for entrance, which you gave eagerly. He kissed you like a man starved and he just seemed to get more hungry when you let out a low moan in his mouth. His hands landed at your waist as he pulled you into him more and kneaded the flesh there. They travelled past your curves to your thighs, as he patted them once and held them in a position to hoist you up. You quickly caught onto him and hoisted yourself up, your legs wrapped around his tiny waist as his lips never left yours, scared you'll run away or he will wake up from this dream if he let that warmth disappear.

But, even if life comes from you, it doesn't and he has to pull away. Instead, he settles to leave a trail of hot kisses down your jawline, sucking and kissing at places that have you crumbling in his hold as you let out erratic moans and whimpers.

"Do you, do you want to?" he whispers slowly in your ear and nibbles at the earlobe.

You nod eagerly and tug at the hair at the nape of his neck as you had wrapped your hands around it. You feel his hardening bulge and set your face in the crook of his neck, reciprocating his ministrations. He leaves a small kiss on your shoulder and heads towards his bedroom.

He places you on the bed and hovers above you, his knee parting your legs and sliding up to the place where you need him the most. His hands move under your shirt as he attaches his lips to yours again. Slowly, his fingertips graze the outer edge of your bra and you fight back a shiver, as his knee hits the spot between your thighs.

You were sure he could feel your arousal on his knee when he groaned in your mouth, breaking the kiss to pepper some of them at your collarbone. Your panties were sticking to your core and his occasional groans turned you on even more. You rolled your hips on his knee and he had to pin you down by your waist to stop you from grinding against him.

"You're so greedy, baby." he chuckled and you thought you might never breathe again at the tone of his voice and the pet name slipping past his lips so effortlessly. He was hardening by each passing second and you could feel it on your stomach, the feeling disappearing when he started moving down, leaving open mouthed kisses on your clothed chest.

He reached the hem of your shirt and took it in between his teeth, looking at you with a hooded gaze. His eyes had turned so dark, your breath hitched in your throat on meeting them. That's when you realised that he is asking for your permission. You nod once and look away, not being able to hold his gaze for so long.

He moved the shirt with his mouth above your breasts, feasting on the view of them fitting snugly in your black lace bra. His hands moved without thought when he groped one of your boobs in his hand, molding the soft flesh through the thin material. He latched his mouth on the other clothed nipple of yours, you letting out a loud whimper at it. He pulled down the cup with his mouth and latched his hot lips on your now hardened nipple. His hand moved to your waist and arched your back, the other going behind you and tugging on the hook. Eventually, he had to free his other hand and unhook your lingerie, throwing it in a random direction.

He sat back on his heels, taking in the sight in front of him. Your form panting breathlessly, woven in his sheets, half naked, only for him. You looked at him through your lashes and made vague gestures with your hands to beckon him to you. His length was rock hard in his sweatpants as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and his heart threatened to give up. Your lips all swollen due to the excessive kissing, your breasts beautifully out in front of him, with nipples hardened and wet with his saliva. His cock twitched when you mewled on the lack of touch.

"Oh god, Y/N." he groaned and attached himself again to your chest, licking a stripe across the valley between your boobs. This time, his hands moved to the buttons of your jeans. He bit on your nipple, as if asking you to speak.

"Yes. Oh, yes, Yoongi." you cried out due to the pain and pleasure.

He moved swiftly as he rid you of your jeans and panties. He smirked at your arousal, sticking shamelessly to your panties as they moved till your thighs and broke the string with his finger. He brought that finger till his mouth and licked it clean, removing it with a pop sound.

"So tasty, sweetheart." maybe you were bound to be dead soon as his actions took away your breath by each passing second.

"You are so wet. All for me?" he closed his eyes and dipped down, kissing and nipping at the skin of your inner thighs.

You were so driven by pleasure, you forgot to answer him, instead letting out short breaths and moans as he brought his hand to your mouth and put his finger between your lips. He puckered your lips with his hand and bit at your skin, emitting a high pitched moan from you.

"Answer me, sweetheart." you could feel, rather than see his smirk.

"Yes, all .. for … you." you were no longer in your right mind when he brought his mouth dangerously near to your centre. His hands left your mouth as he brought them to your folds and parted them easily with his long, steady fingers. He dipped one particularly long one in your dripping core as you whimpered and moaned like a mess, your back arching upwards.

"Mhmm. All mine." he said with eyes closed in ecstasy as his finger started moving in and out of you. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, skillfully and you shouted in ecstasy. The mouth which was before at your thigh was now breathing against your pussy, as he licked a long stripe across your folds and around his finger, still inside you. He plunged one more of his digit inside you as his lips latched at your clit.

He moved so skillfully, more than your hands could ever do. The muscles in his arms flexed as he continued moving in and out of you with a set, beautiful rhythm. Your cunt dripped more and more at his ministrations and the praises he let out about you taking him so well and tasting so sweet. He increased his pace and you almost fell apart under him.

His lips never left your clit, you shouting loudly at the stimulation, and his fingers were doused with your arousal upto his forearms, but he didn't stop at all.

"I've wanted to do this for so long, my love." he mumbles against your hardened nub, sending shivers up your spine. "You taste so nice, I could do this all day." he says as he sets the perfect rhythm of his fingers and tongue, both moving in a perfectly choreographed dance across your folds.

"Yoongi, I.." you let out between short breaths, your chest rising up and down dangerously fast," I can't, please, I am close."

"Already? Are you sure you'll be able to take all of me inside you?" he chuckles and his words are more than enough to push you over the edge.

You fall apart in his hold, as his free hand holds one of yours and pins it down to the mattress. He laps at your juices oozing out non stop as you come on his face. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you shut them and let out a loud cry.

It feels ecstatic. Something so strong, you have never felt. You feel like you're on the clouds with how lightheaded you feel, his mouth still not stopping down there. The orgasm hits you like none other. He had the ability to make you fall apart in his hold but still hold you together, all while making your head spin with the feeling. You squirm in his hand and squeeze his hand tightly due to the overstimulation as he was still not thinking to stop.

"Yoongi. Stop."

He sits back and licks his glossy lips, all covered with your essence. He smiles softly at you and a rose blooms in your chest, the petals ever so soft, devoid of thorns, all perfect in his presence. He kisses you tenderly and you move your hands to his chest. That's when you realize he is fully clothed. You grab his shirt in between your hands and mumble with your brows furrowed, your lips all red and pouty.

"Want this off."

He laughs at you being an adorable mess and moves to rid himself of his clothes. He stands up and undresses completely, his cock slapping against his taut abdomen as he discards his boxers. As he gets back to nipping at your neck, marking all the sweet spots, you palm his cock. He lets out a surprised moan against your earlobe, which spurs you on to move your hand across his length. You glide your thumb past his tip and spread the precum collected over there. He lets out low moans against your throat as you let your hand slide down to his balls, cupping them.

He moans loudly and then, suddenly holds your wrist to stop you from going any further. He brings your hand up and intertwines your fingers with his, them fitting together like a lost piece of puzzle and pins your hands above your head. You stare at him with confused eyes as he kisses your forehead.

"Next time, baby." he says as he kisses your nose, "Want to show you how much I love you." and he presses a chaste kiss on your lips before he is moving again.

He opens his bedside drawer and fishes out a foil packet. He slowly slides the condom over his veiny cock and settles himself between your legs. He takes his time kissing you slowly while his tip grazes your entrance.

"Can I?" he mumbles into the kiss.

"Yes, Yoongi." you cup his cheek and kiss his nose as he enters you, both of you moaning at the contact. He enters you slowly, inch by inch, until he bottoms out. You squirm in your place, your breaths erratic and hands clawing his back. He gives you a second to adjust to his length and when you say a small 'yes', he starts moving slowly but deeply.

He stretches you out deliciously as his cock hits the right spots, you a mess under him. But still, he is painfully slow as he tenderly kisses the spots from below your ear, upto your breastbone. You need something more and so, you start wiggling your hips, to try to get some more action. He notices it and stops kissing you, instead pinning both your hands above your head and biting at your lower lip.

"Love, you want me to go faster?" he lets out an airy chuckle as he increases his pace. But yet, you know he can do more as you try to free your hands from his hold.

"Yoongi." a string of moans pass you as he holds both your hands in one of his, and slides the other between your legs to rub at your clit. He now sets an animalistic pace, one that has you shouting in pleasure and him chanting your name like a mantra while rutting his hips against yours.

A tear or two slips from your eyes as the familiar knot starts building in your stomach. He must have felt you being close as he groaned in the crook of your neck, your cunt squeezing him perfectly. The feeling all too heavenly. He fit inside you perfectly, him hitting your g spot with each and every thrust as his eyes held the world whenever you looked into them.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at the spot joining you to him, his heart giving out and him reveling in you.

"Oh, fuck." It felt like a fever dream, feeling you around him, moaning his name and looking at him with love and lust, a perfect combination, only for him. He could feel your upcoming orgasm, so he increased his pace to an unforgivable extent.

"I'm, I'm close." you were hardly able to form words but still let out the warning for him.

"You're so fucking tight." and that was the last straw for you as the knot snapped and your climax hit you, harder than the first one. You went limp in his hands and your body threatened to pass out from your high. The euphoric feeling didn't seem to stop as you literally saw stars in front of your eyes, him still not stopping.

"Y/N, shit." your walls were clenching around him tightly when you orgasmed and as you came down from your high, you could feel his thrusts getting sloppier and his pace faltering. He continued for some moments before, the overstimulation pulling out a shriek from you, before he let out a string of expletives and collapsed over you, filling up the condom.

He stayed there, in the crook of your neck and let his breathing get normal. He kisses your shoulder once before pulling out, both of you cringing at the feeling and rolls off you. He discarded the condom and came back beside you. All this while, you were a total euphoric mess. You almost dozed off when you felt the mattress sink beside you, indicating his return.

He pulled you in by his arms around your waist and rested his head in the space between your neck and collarbone as your back hit his chest. He started in a low whisper, his lips grazing your ear lobe,

"I might be a terrible person. I might have caused you a ton of pain. I might be a terrible person for always hiding behind a fake stature, cause I am scared. I was so fucking scared that you will never acknowledge me, or my feelings…" you turn back to face him and look him in his eyes, all glossy and scared but hopeful and loving at the same time, "but now that i am less scared, i wanted to tell you, that I love you. I love you so fucking much that it's the only thing i can think of. When you, " he takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers, both of you staring at them fitting together. He brought your hands to his chest and continued, "When you told me you were staying here longer for him, I lost hope. So I distanced myself from you, in hopes of not letting you affect me more. But all this space only made me fall for you more, Y/N. Please, I beg you to let me love you. Can you please do the same?" he finished as he kissed your each and every knuckle.

The setting sun emanated a soft glow in the room, through the half curtained windows. The golden light reflecting off his face deemed him to be an angel, the almost invisible halo around him feeding the fact. As you stared in the depths of his glossy eyes, you realised he was undressing himself, his thoughts, his fears, in hope that you will embrace his true form without hesitation. And you'd be a true fool to let him down when your own heart yearns for that scared, loving, true man. You bring your intertwined hands to your mouth and press a chaste kiss on his hand,

"I love you, Yoongi." you smiled when his eyes lighted up and he pulled you in more, if possible. "The distance brought an epiphany to both of us, and I'd be stupid to not acknowledge it. Your gummy smile, cheesy laugh, those crinkly cat-like eyes were the only things in my mind whenever I closed my eyes. And I guess, I've really come to love them, like they are my own, mine."

"Mine."

He kisses you like you were made of glass, delicate and special. You break the hold of your hands and swing it across his torso, engulfing him in a hug and nuzzling your nose to his chest. He giggles softly and hugs you back, sniffing the scent of your hair, the scent of you.

"So, what do you think? Are you still leaving?" he asks playfully while caressing your hair.

You look up at him through your lashes and pat his chest, your words this time directly aimed at the thing alive beneath it.

"I think I am going to..." you kiss his chest twice as both of you laugh heartily at your silly action. You rest your head against it and close your eyes, reveling in the moment of peace, as you finish announcing your oh so obvious decision.

"Stay."

a/n : Hello everyone. This is my first fic ever. Thank You so much for reading it. It will be really nice if you could leave any kind of feedback, any way will be okay :))

p.s. if you want me to add you to the taglist of my future fics - pls reply to this post or just fill out this form and I'll add u <3