Rooms on Fire: Sundown
Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader
Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader
Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader
Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader
Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual
Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist
Spotify playlist
Summery: Ben shows his true colors
Warnings and Content:
DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT
DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.
Extra warnings for chapter: Oh my god the violence. Violent is here. Im so sorry.
4.4k words
"I can picture every move that a man could make
Getting lost in her loving is your first mistake
Sundown, you better take care
If I find you been creeping 'round my back stairs
Sometimes I think it's a sin
When I feel like I'm winning, when I'm losing again" ~Sundown, Gordon Lightfoot
Rey always had a way of making things better.
You were sat on the kitchen counter in a loose tank top and baggy shorts that may or may not be Will’s boxers, watching Ray cook for you an Iris. She’d been feeling unwell this morning, no doubt the stress of everything that happened the last few weeks getting to her normally impenetrable facade. You found out she caught the tail end of what Will did to Jonah. Now both of you had watched your fathers die.
But Rey had been emotional support to both of you. You leaned more on your husbands, but Rey gave a sense of normalcy. He was a lot like Ben, making it so you could let go of the guilt that plagued you constantly, clearing your mind of the swirling thoughts of Beatriz and Santiago’s true natures.
Will was safe. Protective and gentle and strong, he continued to dot on you, massaging vitamin c oil into your scars to reduce them now that they could take a little bit of pressure. Your healer, your guardian. You thanked him profusely for protecting you against Jonah’s attempt to rape you, even if parts of you still wished he wasn’t dead.
Francisco was who you were the most honest with. You could tell him how you felt about Santiago and Beatriz, work out your confusing thoughts in soft whispers when you were with only him. Santiago never let Francisco sleep with you anymore at night.
Walking past you to open the oven, he gave your hand a squeeze, lingering a bit. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it; he just wanted you to feel better. To know he was there. He was better than this place, you knew now. Better than this world.
“Madonna! There you are!” Ben rushes in with Will behind him, reaching for you. “Christ! I was worried!”
You’re a bit shocked, but can’t help sliding into his arms. “What do you mean? I’m right here…”
Ben holds you close, your body pressed against his, skin to skin making you cringe. It wasn’t him, it was the idea of touch lately at all.
Will clarified. “You said you were going to be in the garden, we were worried when we didn’t see you.”
You try to squirm out of Ben’s arms. His grip is hard and uncomfortable… he’s too close. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just- ow, Ben- I didn’t think I needed to let you know? I never did before… Ben, please-” He’s kissing you now, your cheek, your neck, your lips… you don’t want Rey and Iris to see you like this… You hear Iris say something, but can’t quite make it out.
“That was before. With everything that’s happened, Jonah, the assasination attempt, we need to know where you are, always.” You didn’t like him talking about Jonah in front of Iris. You didn’t like him talking about Jonah in general. You squirm and try to dodge his kisses.
He rubs against the deepest burn on your belly, making you whimper, trying to push him away. Memories of Jonah’s attack flash in your hands, and suddenly he’s pulled off you. You think for a moment it’s Will, but you see Ben’s blonde hair fisted in Iris’s hand.
“She said stop!” Iris yanks him away and horror drops in your stomach. Ben wouldn’t hurt her, no, you didn’t need to worry, Ben was loving, fun, sunshine- He swung, clocking Iris on the jaw.
What happened next was a blur. Reyansh was on Ben is a second, a rage you’d never seen from your sweet guard before, and the two rays of sunshine throwing hands. Reyansh is slammed against the wall and you shout, wanting to run to him but before you even move Will’s hand is on your wrist. You watch two men you love beating on each other, Rey kneeing Ben in the balls and throwing him to the ground where he momentarily had the advantage. Ben, however, gripped Rey’s hair and used the momentum to roll their bodies over so Ben was on top. You’d seen Ben use the same move during sex.
“WILL! DO SOMETHING!” You scream, watching them hurt each other but Ben with the clear advantage. Still, all he does is hold you back, fingers stroking your hair in an attempt to placate you, but you can’t stand by… still, you can’t get in the middle of a bloody fist fight, especially after watching Jonah die… why couldn’t Will step in when he clearly had the strength to? Ben has the upper hand, and looks like he’s close to killing rey the way Jonah died.
You see Iris make a move to get Ben off him, and Francisco who was previously frozen in shock runs to her. She tried to get out of his grasp, but he simply pushes her away and tackles Ben down. Francisco uses his weight to pin him, using a soothing voice to try and calm the fit. You yank your hand, hand, releasing it from Will’s grasp and painfully pulling on the burnt skin but you needed to get to Rey. Iris pulls his head on her lap, and he spits out some blood onto her dress but gives his girl a weak smile.
“You alright, my love?” He asks her, despite you cleaning blood off his face and her seeming unharmed.
She chuckles, crying but gives him a smile as well. “I’m alright, baby. I’m alright.”
Will is standing above you. You see Ben and Francisco are rising now, Frankie still holding Ben.
“What the hell was that, Saha!”
Rey doesn’t dignify Will with an answer, but you turn to him, giving a little bite to your tone.
“He was defending his girl, Will. You’d done the same for me.”
“Madonna…” He warning in a stern voice, one that made you feel like a child being admonished by a house mother again. “He is a guardsmen, sworn to protect us, not throw punch-”
You looked up at him again, snapping. “He hit Iris!”
Ben chimed in with a ‘She hurt me first!’ but Will ignored him. “She involved herself in something she had no business to.”
“But Ben!-” You were cut off my Iris whispering your name. Her eyes were fearful… and you realize they held the same glint as when you caught her and Ben together… She mouthed, ‘don’t.’
Your eyes never leave hers. “Well, she’s my friend and he’s my personal guard so she’s under my protection.”
Fracicsco’s arms pull you, careful not to touch your sensitive parts. He’s telling you to go, but you worry for Rey and Iris.
“Will, you can’t hurt them, please?”
“I’m not-”
“But you are!” You pull at Francisco’s hand. “You are, because they hurt Ben but please! Don’t!”
Will sighs, shoulders relaxing down as he decides not to lie. “Madonna, they have to be punished. I promise it won’t be harsh.” His blue eyes look remorseful and honest, like he’s resigned to his duties. You trust he wouldn’t be unnecessarily cruel and you knew punishment was important in corrections… but this was Rey and Iris, your friends… Rey, who had only ever loved and protected you. Iris, despite everything, she took care of you.
This time when you pull your arm Francisco lets go, and you rush to Will. You reach for his face, cupping it as you stare into his eyes. Will’s expression was soft, indulgent. He was listening. “Look at him, Will.” You gesture to where Reyansh still bloodied Iris’s skirts. “They both got hit, and Rey took enough for both, don’t you think?”
He seemed sympathetic to the pain Rey was in. “That’s the natural consequence of a fight, Madonna. I need to punish them properly, according to our rules.”
Tears fill your eyes and you hear Ben grumble, Francisco shushing him. “My husband, my love…” You beg him in choked words. You try to appeal to his sense of ownership over Rey and the guards. “He’s your guard, and someone hurt him… can’t we just call it even? Please?”
“No, Madonna.”
Rey coughs from the ground below you, trying to sit up. “I can take it, Will. Just don’t hurt Iris.”
With that, Will’s face shifts. This pulls at something and you take it. “He was just trying to protect her! You’d do the same if anyone hit me, Will, please you killed a man for me, you killed Melanie for me, I know you understand…” You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles that were still healing for beating Jonah to death. “Please… there's been so much pain here this week… I promise, I promise they learned.”
Ben must've seen Will considering, because he spoke. “Don’t let them get away with it, that bitch put her hands on me!”
His language shocked you, never hearing him talk like that, and Francisco saw the look in your eyes. “Will, c’mon… I think his nose is broken… and Iris just lost her dad… Madonna is under a lot of stress, don’t give her more.”
Finally, Will sighs despite Ben’s protests. He walks over to where Iris and Rey sit and helps them both up. “Go.” He says to Iris. “You can use my medicine closet. Patch him up. I expect him back on duty tonight.”
“Will! What the hell!” Ben shouts but you run up to Will, giving him a short peck on the cheek and whispering thank you.
Will tells Ben to fuck off, and goes to unlock his medicine for Reyansh. Iris turns and gives you a smile.
“You just like to touch everyone but me, don’t you?” Ben’s words shock you back to reality.
“What? Ben… it’s not…” You reach for Francisco’s hand for security as he admonishes Ben, but he continues.
“You kiss Will, and I see you holding Saha’s hand, and now Frankie? But don’t think I’ve noticed you havn’t fucked me!”
“Benjamin!” Francisco shouts as you shrink at Ben’s words. He’s never spoken to you like this, and you don’t think you’ve ever even seen him angry, certainly not at you. “She’s had a traumatic months for fucks sake! Between Santi and Jonah can you go without pussy for a few fucking days?”
“I don’t know Frank, can you go without Santi’s dick in your ass for more than a few days?”
For the next several minutes, the two argued, exchanging heated words and painful secrets. You’d learned Francisco fucks Santiago every night, and the dark spots on his neck were from the husband who’d burned you alive. You learned Ben was sleeping with half of delta still. You learned there was a whole word that existed between the four of them that not only happened before you, but existed outside of you. You thought you were the nucleus holding them together. Instead, you were just the meal they feasted on.
*
You were finally well enough for him to take you on the horse, a careful walk, out to your meadows again. By now, you were too big to straddle him with his cock inside you and your skin and belly couldn’t bear his body against you. So, as you watched him set up the blanket, you knew you’d miss the feeling of napping in the warm sun with his cock stretching you.
“C’mere, baby.” Francisco helps you sit and then lay down, pulling you close with you using his meaty arm as a pillow.
“I miss you.” You mutter, and he kisses your neck.
His hand holds your stomach, feeling your baby kick. “I’m right here”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
There was silence for a moment, letting the birds sing and breeze below through the rustling grass. It was so nice out, and you were thankful for your skimpy dress. You are reminded of all the times you laid here, endless hours making him flower crowns, braiding the little ones into his hair, kissing him, napping… all while he’s stuffed inside you, your skirt spread around your thighs. How many times has Jonah seen you like this? Had he watched from the trees as you fucked in languid strokes, not even trying to cum but just to feel him bucking into you?
Or when Santiago had tripped you, burning your cothes off, fucking you by the fire… had Jonah stood and watched? Had he taken in the view, his own pornography, before helping you? Or when Francisco finger fucked you on the horse, had he savored your sweet sounds and memorized them for nights alone with his fist? How long had he wanted you? How long had he taken even innocent moments and turned them into something vile?
You felt Francisco’s hard cock nestled between your ass cheeks, and by instinct you scoot away just a tiny bit.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry Madonna I’m not trying too- I don’t know why-”
“It’s okay.” No one had been inside you since Jonah’s attempt, you barely let them touch you… but you had to trust Francisco, right? He was good. He was so, so good. “It’s… it’s okay…”
The feeling of him shaking his head russells your hair. “No, no love, it’s not…” He’s pulling back from you and you miss the warmth of his body so you reach back and grab him.
“I miss you…” You choke out. “I miss feeling you inside me… I miss you… please? I want you so bad, Francisco.”
“Baby…” He caresses you cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve been through a lot…”
“And I don’t want it to change us. Santiago, Jonah… I won’t let them tear us apart…”
He kisses the back of your head. “They won’t. I won’t ever let that happen. You are more important than them.”
It slips out before you can stop. “Am I more important than Ben?”
“I love you.”
You don’t have it in you to press further, instead you arch your back so that your ass brushes against his cock in his pants. “So much has happened… I need this… I need to know you still love me.”
He sighs, stating firmly. “I do love you…” but he moved to unbuckle his pants. You wished you could see him, you wished you could see the way his belly folded over his jeans. You wished you could run your hands over the skin and feel the hair on his chest. But you weren’t ready for that. Instead you just relaxed into his arms, relaxed into him, his safety, his protection. When he pushes your skirt up, his hands are large over your asscheeks and you enjoy feeling covered by him. When he slides in, your body makes room for the familiar feeling.
“Do you want me to make love to you? Or do you just want me inside?”
“Make love, please…”
A gentle kiss on the cheek. “Anything for you.”
*
Sliding inside you once again, Frankie felt a homecoming. He loved the long hours you and him would spend here, cumming inside you multiple times but keeping you plugged up with his cum. He wished he hadn’t wasted so much time getting inside you properly, loving you the way you wanted to… he would have knocked you up first if he’d been going at this rate… but now, the odds weren’t in his favor.
Frankie revelled in the sound of your mewling, soft and tender like a little kitten… his to protect. As he slowly thrust into you, he vowed he wouldn’t let anyon hurt you again. He needed to talk to Ben, to Will… he needed them to get on board. You clearly cared for Iris and Rey and they cared for you, so he needed to make sure they were protected. Ben had been sneaking out more, going into the community to presumably fuck some other young niave thing… but a rule had been laid about Iris. The fact she was fucking him had been out of her character anyway, but it was over now.
Ben needed to stop sleeping with everyone he could get his hands on, and he needed to respect Madonna’s personal space and boundaries. He was not entitled to her body, especially after all this happened.
Looking up the hill and into the trees, Francisco saw Ben. He stood tall, a scowl on his face; he didn’t like that he got to be inside you.
Francisco sped up his movements, fucking up into you and making you cry out in pleasure. You were unaware of your audience. He never let up eye contact as he rammed his cock into your core and pressed you close to him. His hands felt you up, showing Ben what he was missing. Sitting atop his horse, Francisco watched as Benjamin pulled out his dick and began stroking himself furiously. It was a scramble after that, Frankie wanting you to cum before Ben did, to ruin his little show but still show off what Frankie could do, the sounds you could make.
“Francisco…” You whine, and he buries his face in your neck after checking your eyes were still closed, lost in pleasure.
“I’m right here, Madonna. Always right here…” His longer fingers swirled your clit, and he knew you were close by the way you were clenching down hard. Perfect, you were perfect. Your body shook in his arms as he filled you, the sweet sounds of your orgasm echoing through the meadow valleys and hills and up to Ben’s ears. Francisco didn’t see if he came; he didn’t care anymore. He needed to take care of his Madonna, for suddenly you were crying.
“I wish it was you.” You sob into his sleeved up arm. He was thankful today didn’t require undressing. He didn’t want to have to explain the cuts.
“What do you-”
“The baby! I wish it was yours!”
He brushes a stray lock out of your face as he attempts to sooth you. “May it is… we don’t know…”
“It’s not.” You shake your head. “It’s Will or Bens. I just know it. Those first months, you barely touched me, and after I fail the first time Santiago only touched me once a night!” The way you had switched from Pope to Santiago was not lost on him. “It’s one of them!”
“Is that a bad thing? They’ll love that baby too, just like I will.”
“SANTIAGO WILL KILL ME!”
You explained yourself then, what Santi said. How he threatened you. You had one job, according to him, and that was to get pregnant. It wasn’t suppossed to matter if it was by the Millers, by Santi or himself… but of course, of course Santi had to fuck with you more, because it isn’t really about the savior for Santi.
It’s about Frankie.
*
It had been a few days and Rey’s face looked awful. He had definitely broken his nose, bruising showing deeply despite his brown skin.
“I’m fine, swear to the gods.” He promises after catching you staring at his face.
“Your eye is almost swollen shut.”
“Like I said, totally fine.” he jokes and you give him a little kick from where you sat on the counter. Iris was feeling sick so Rey and you were taking over cooking dinner. The pineapple upside down cake was in the oven, and Rey was working on the main dish right now.
He watched you watching him, hesitating before he spoke, his tone more sololm than you were used to. “If you could leave… would you?” He watches your eyes go wide, so he rushed to explain more. “You’re pregnant with the savior, there's nothing that says he needs to be raised here! You told me yourself, Beatriz was evil, Santi… sweetie c’mon he threatened you if the baby is blonde! What if he kills the savior when they are born?”
“Rey!” You whisper harshly. “You’re talking heresy!” Your eyes are wide.
He chuckles tiredly. “We crossed that line a while ago… Listen… I know you love that baby, I know you want them to grow up safe and happy but that can’t be here. You’re husbands, they are batship insane and you know it.”
“No.” You shake your head, refusing to accept it. “No, it’s just… Santi, I think he needs help… I can help him, I can make him a better-”
Reyansh grips your shoulders now, an intensity you weren’t expecting. “No! You can’t! It's not just you, you have to realize that. He didn’t hurt you because you did anything wrong. You take off Frankie’s shirt right now and you’ll see a fucking masscure because he’s fucking losing it! He’s dangerous! And Ben, he-”
Reyansh stops, voice cracking and you notice the wetness of his eyes. The pain is etched into every line on his young face. “He rapes my wife. My beautiful, precious wife- he… and I didn’t know, this whole time I had no idea what he’s been doing to her…” You can see he’s crying now, and you’re frozen in fear, reaching for his wet face. “I just let it happen this whole time but now I know the truth, and it’s not happening again and I can’t bear to see you get hurt again. I’m gonna get her out, and I want you to come. I don’t want to leave you here but… I have to protect my family. I want that family to mean you too, anuja.”
There was so much to process here, your mind was whirling from everything you were told, but the idea of Iris and Ben… Did you walk in on her being raped by your husband? Had Ben truly tried to get you in on it, to kiss and touch her while she was raped? To make you an accomplice in his crimes? You think of how she looked at you… fuck, how could you not see it? How did you think she was willingly a part of it when it was clear she loved Reyansh? And you treated her so horrible after…
“I’m gonna be sick.”
Your head spins, and Rey wraps his arms around to set your feet on the floor again. The hand that gently touched his wet, bearded cheek now was on his shoulder to steady yourself as he slid you down from the counter. His arms firm but chaste around you as he pressed against the marble.
“Hey take a deep breath-” His face was ripped away from you, eyes wide as Rey was pulled back by his hair. Then, before you can react, his already bruised head is slammed into the corner of the countertop.
He begins screaming and you do too.
You can see Santiago in the doorway, but he makes no attempt to stop the events unfolding in front of you, does nothing as Ben grabs the kitchen knife and throws it directly into Reyansh’s chest where he lay in agony. The scene has begun to garner a crowd, Frankie running in at the sounds of your screams but freezes in shock as blood files the kitchen once again.
“BEN! STOP!!!” You scream, but Ben’s eyes are crazed and he’s screaming at Rey not to touch you.
You aren’t sure the exact moment his eyes go dead and body falls limp, no longer reacting to the mass of stabs Ben continues to inflict, but you know it’s already too late when Iris bursts in, screaming her lover’s name. When she runs to where Ben is slowing down, straddling over your best friend’s dead body, Francisco reacts quickly, scooping her up and grabbing Iris’s arms behind her back.
“REY! REY! REY!” Iris screams non stop, fighting to get out of Francisco’s grasp as he tells her it’s too dangerous.
Finally, Ben falls over, panting in exhaustion. He throws up on the floor and you realize he’s drunk. The smells of vomit mixes with copper in the the room as the fluids run together. You are barely standing, knees weak, palms sweaty, unable to process what you’ve seen as Ben stands up and stumbles towards you. Will is in the room now, taking it all in, muttering ‘jesus christ Benny… what did you do…’
But walks towards you, a bright smile of white teeth a strange flash of color among the red covering his face. Red. He’s covered in Reyansh’s blood.
“Hey baby, wanna give me a kiss?”
Ben is pulled away from you.
“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Francisco screams to him and you slide to the ground.
“He was touching her!” Ben tries to defend, but francisco is infuriated. He shoved Ben away, moving him to the door. On the ground, Iris is desperately trying to get Rey to come alive. The shakes, the touches to his face, the wretched sobs and ugly cries do nothing as he lays limp in her arms.
“FUCK YOU BENNY! HE WAS HER FRIEND! HE WAS MINE!” Francisco shoves him hard, making Ben stumble into Santiago.
Will steps up, gathering his fist in Francisco’s shirt. “Hey! Keep your fucking hands off him!” In which Santiago steps in and says something similar to Will. They begin to argue and fight and scream at each other; you are left on the floor, inconsequential. When you have the courage to look at Rey’s mangled corpse again, you gather the courage to crawl to him. Up close, the carnage in unbelievable.
There are massive gashes in him, holes in his body you can’t believe he had the strength and rage to go that hard into so many times. A stabwound in his eye. A hole in his cheek.
“Rey…” You sob, reaching out for your bloodied friend. The door shuts behind you and you aren’t sure whose left. “Im so sorry, I’m so, so-”
Iris shoves you backwards, forcing you to fall softly on your butt. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” She screams at you, and you sit in shock. She’s never spoken to you like this.
“Iris-”
“I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WERE DANGEROUS TERRITORY!”
Francisco’s arms are around you, a feeling you’d recognize instantly. “I D-didn’t- I did mean-”
“You NEVER DO!” Her eyes are vicious, a fury that far surpassed anything you’ve ever seen in your life. “You are so goddamn stupid, walzing around here like you live in FUCKING FARIE TALE and leave a trail of dead bodies behind you! You dad, Jonah, and now YOU HAD TO GET MY REY KILLED!”
You are speechless. She’s right. Everything is your fault. Jonah said your dad just wanted a better life for you… was that drive the reason the uprising started? Was the death of him, Deacon Tom, Delilah and all the rebels your fault? She had said she didn’t blame you for Jonah… but now her voice joins the chores of everyone else in your life… it was all your fault.
Francisco picks you up.
I'm so sorry
Months and months ago while constructing this story, I had a friend i was working on it a lot with. She had a big hand in creating Iris and Rey. The entire time, before it was entirely planned out even, I knew he was going to die. I knew there was no happy ending to be had for Iris and Reyansh. And that made some scenes very hard too write. Rey didn't deserve any of it. He was a good man who loved his "wife." (not legally married bc cult stuff but in all the ways that matter, they were.)
There is no going back from this now. Madonna is shown who Ben and Santi are.
The last poll i fucked up! It was suppossed to be who does BEN love most lol
Save the children (which has absolutely nothing to do with QAnon who hijacked their hashtag) our currently supporting relief efforts in the Congo above our listed some quick facts that I hope you’ll take a moment to read, and if you can afford it, please consider making a donation. I have made a small one, but if we band together small donations make a difference
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LOVE YOU ALL!
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Room's on Fire: Girl on Fire
Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader
Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual
Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist
Spotify playlist
Summery: Everyone is together, everything is complete.
Warnings and Content:
DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT
DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.
WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!
Extra warnings for chapter: Pregnancy, breeding kink, violent sex, domestic violence on a man, gunshots, references to murder,, death, torture, all the horrors. The end was disturbing even to me, so read with caution. If you find the end was too much, just ask me what happens and I'll tell you. not super plot important but like it was pointed out, the sex is how we see dynamic shifts. Mentions of mpreg fantesy but no mpreg will happen bc they arent actually god, just insane.
3.7k words
A/N: Some pov shifts. Madonna, Jonah, Rey, Santi all get POV's.
A.N2: context for song quote, Alicia wrote girl on fire after the birth of her son.
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"She's on top of the world
Hottest of the hottest girls say
Oh, we got our feet on the ground
And we're burning it down
Oh, got our head in the clouds
And we're not coming down
This girl is on fire" ~ Girl On Fire, Alicia Keys
“It’s okay, you’re gonna do great.” Rey assured her, sitting on a table in the dressing room despite a chair being right there. His lanky legs liked to dangle, you noticed, or sometimes perch up in high places. He reminded you of a bird sometimes, lithe and graceful and seemed to float on his feet.
“What if they don’t like me? What if something happens? What if there’s another uprising or someone wants revenge on me because of my dad-”
“The people love you, and they were going to love you even more with this announcement. Jonah’s not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”
Your face grows warm at the mention of Jonah. He had acted distant with you since the instance of Frankie and you on the horse, and wouldn’t let you see his face when he showed up the next morning with bruises. In fact, you’d hardly seen him at all. Rey was your primary guard, and Will had talked about moving your room to one with an attached room for Reyansh so that he could stay with you at all times. It seemed everyone knew Iris and Rey were an item, or at least they understood Reyansh was not a threat. You had begged Will not to switch around rooms. The reason given was that you liked your room, but really, you were hoping that you’d be moved into a room with one of your husbands. You weren’t visited by the incubus the night they all slept in your room.
Still, Jonah looked out for you. Under your dress right now was his bulletproof vest.
A knock on the door.
“Come in.” Iris called to the door, still working on your hair.
Will entered the room. “Are you ready, Madonna?”
Before you opened your mouth, Iris replied. “You could use her real name, you know.”
Will didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on you. “Her name is irrelevant, her position is everything.” When he turns and sees Reyansh, Will frowns. “What are you doing in here?”
Iris was quick to answer his unvoiced question. “He only came in after she was dressed.”
He instructs Reyansh to ready the carriage. Once he was out, Will turned to you with a smile. “You look stunning, Madonna.” Your heart swells with love for your handsome husband, dressed in his loose white shirt. In your hair, small white flowers adored you, carefully placed and worked in by Iris’s hands. She was incredible, making your dress too. It was colorful, with a color representing all four of your husbands. Under it, a bulletproof vest. No one in delta outside of guardsmen was allowed guns, but he wanted to be safe.
“Wow…” Will whispers, taking you in. There was just the slightest swell of a bump, you wondered if it was just weight gained from eating more these few months. Will took you into his arms kissing you deeply and feeling your stomach. Iris mumbles close enough as you’re pulled away. He turns back to her only a moment. “Make sure everything is ready when we’re back, please.”
Iris sighs, “It always is, Mr. Miller.”
*
Jonah cocked his gun. “Same as last time, honey. Anything happens, you come with me. Those guys can handle themself. I get hurt, do not stop for me. Just run. Someone will come find you, you just keep yourself alive, got it?” His brown eyes were on you for the first time in a long time, and you relaxed. Jonah’s eyes always calm you. It’s scary, knowing you were responsible for not just you, but someone else as well. The priestess stood at the balcony to the side, your husbands flanking you. Pope to your right, Francisco to your left, Ben to his left and Will to Popes right. Just as you were married.
“Men! Women! Children of Delta!” She shouts to the crown. “I present your Gods and your Madonna!” The crowd erupts into screams, and your heart fills with love for your people. “And!” A hush falls over the ground, waiting breaths quiet as they wait for the news. “I present to you, THE SAVIOR!”
The sound was deafening, a noise that shocked you and made you stumble back. To your surprise, Pope was behind you. It was a greater surprise when he rucked up your skirt.
Immediately your hands, out of instinct, go to bring the material down but his fingers quickly dig into your skin, warning you to behave. So, you stand there, humiliated, left hand gripping Francisco’s tighter. Pope loved you, he loved you and he’d never do something just to humiliate you! How stupid of you for feeling that way. This child was long prayed for, they and your body belonged to your husbands, belonged to Delta. Pope lifted your dress over the small bump,exposing your underwear to the crown. No one outside of your husband, a few house motherns and prefects had seen you in your underwear, so this was difficult…
But then Pope kissed your neck, and the worries melted away. Will, Francisco and Ben come to you, each placing a hand on your stomach as the priestess shouts, reaffirming that the savior’s parentage was of all four, that each of your husbands fathered this baby. You were called the vessel for their seed.
Then, you were placed on a tour. On a sitting carriage with all 4 of your husbands, you were paraded around to cheering people, the faces of women from your dormitory and even your room recognizable in the crowds. One woman whose bed was next to yours shot you a deadly glare as you passed by. She was mean, frequently detailing her escapades with Ben and throwing your own lack of attention in your face, but who was laughing now? Ben choose her for a short term fuck. You had a greater purpose.
When you reached the mansion again, the gates were crowded with people reaching out for you, and although there was fear as the mass of the crowd grew, there was also power. The savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned lay in your holy womb, you were the bringer of life. YOU were the divine mother.
The gunshot brought you back to reality.
*
“WILL!” You scream as your husband is shot backwards, stumbling into his brother’s arms who he shoved out of the way of the bullet. Jonah didn’t care about Will, however. He didn’t care about Ben falling at him brothers side under the weight. He didn’t even care about Francisco scrambling to grab at Ben in the chaos, and he certainly didn’t care about Santiago dragging Frankie away.
He cared about, sobbing in his arms desperately trying to get to your fallen love. Jonah wrapped an arm around you and pulled you away into the riotous, scampering crowd. You needed to get away from the shooter.
“NO!” You bawl loudly. Howling that he’s dying, that you need to be with him, but Jonah didn’t give a shit about that prick. He calls to Reyansh, who jumped out of the carriage the second the gun goes off. It was intentional, having Rey at the helm with him; only Rey would care enough about you out of all the guardsmen that Jonah could depend on him. Into the madness, you wouldn’t stop screaming and that rainbow dress of yours was not helping the situation.
“Rey! The tunic!” Jonah had to spin you around to disorient you enough to make you stop fighting in your hysteria, forcing your arms up while Rey slid a long, brown standard tunic over your body, making you blend into the neutral tones on the crown. Jonah clamped down over your mouth and pulled you away as the center of the shooting grew further away, Reynash covering you both. Once at the posting for a guard, Rey held you as Jonah mounted the steed and pulled you up, riding off with you.
*
You hadn't stopped sobbing for hours. Reyansh watched in concern, wanted so badly to comfort you lest the heaving and thrashing harm the baby or yourself. Rey loved children, he couldn’t wait for a day he could take Iris away and raise a family together, to finally be with her intimately and live a life with her.
Even if children weren’t in the picture (Iris wanted one in theory, but was hesitant to bring one into this world, understandably.) he’d cherish a life growing old with his lover. Maybe they’d some orphaned child; Iris had a soft spot for children in need. Her maternal instincts are why, despite not wanting to be friends or even really know her, Iris took care of the girl. Iris had ten years on the naive child. Continuously, she had warned him about keeping his distance, not raising suspicion that anything was happening between him and the girl, but it wasn’t his fault she was damn delightful. However, despite her obvious beauty, talents and sweet demeanor, nothing compared to Iris.
Reyansh could wax poetry about her all day long, and often did. He barely had any free time, most of the pockets of time he had, Rey liked to help Iris with her Herculean tasks, the laundry and dishes like Sisyphus and the boulder. He couldn’t take away the fact the next day would be filled with more dishes, more wall washing, more cooking, but he’d gladly sacrifice an hour of sleep so she could gain one. With him at all times, however, was his notebook and pen. As he sat at a mount or perch Rey liked to try his hand at poetry and writing.
Sometimes it was about the beauty of nature, the flowers he planted and gardens he kept, how they gave him joy during difficult times. Sometimes it was about the complex nature of family, of Iris and Jonah, Santiago and what he knew of Beatriz, which wasn’t much, the strained love and hatred between Will and Ben, or his own desire for fatherhood. Sometimes he wrote about the 5 lovers, the girl, the men who claimed to be gods, how each individual relationship strengthened them and weakened them in their own ways and how the girl changed things for better or for worse. Mostly, he just wrote about Iris, the prettiest flower he had.
He caught a glimpse of Jonah at the window, motioning him to come out. This safe house was his idea. Apparently, he and Marcus used to escape here sometimes.
Rey tries to tell you he’s stepping outside but you aren’t listening, curled up in a ball on the bed sobbing. He makes his exit.
Once outside, Jonah offers him a sip from his flask but Rey declines.
“I was going to ask how she is, but I can hear my answer.” The sound of you wailing penetrates the walls.
“How Will?”
“He’ll live, unfortunately.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah.” Jonah sighs, lighting a cigarette. “Wish those fuckers would just die.”
There was a long pause, Reyansh thinking hard before saying what he was thinking. He didn’t defy or talk back to Jonah, he respected him as his superior and, for all intents and purposes, his father in law. But Jonah was flawed. “You’re the one with a gun, Jonah”
Jonah inhaled a long drag before answering in a puff of smoke. “We’ve been over this.” He walked into the safe house.
They had talked, several times. Rey wanted Iris out but he didn’t have much power and knowledge. Jonah had the gun and a hundred reasons not to. There was no way to kill all 4 because everyone was armed. The community would riot. There was no where safe to go. A failed attempted would end Iris’s life. All these may be true, Jonah did have 4 decades of guard experience… but really, Rey thought he was just a coward, and maybe he cared for Pope and/or Francisco more than he’d like to admit. He’d been with those two since infancy, helped raise them, been a father figure most of their lives… it was understandable.
When he walked into the house, it was to crying but this time, relieved. He must have told her Will would be okay. You had your arms wrapped around his neck and he held you close to him, rubbing your back.
“It’s gonna be okay, honey, everyone’s gonna be just fine.”
*
Ben was changing Will’s bandages when you walked in and it made you nauseous to see the blood. Jonah said the bullet went straight through, that he’d be okay he just needed to rest, but the sight was disturbing.
Will groans. “Baby, don’t want you seeing me like this.”
Benny flicks his brothers arm. “Let her be, she was worried about you.”
The older Miller grumbled, but allowed you to kneel his side. He thumbed away a tear, “Don’t cry for me, beautiful girl.”
“What happened?” You sniffle, looking between Benny and Will.
“A girl from the dorms, she took the gun off a guard and tried to shoot-”
Ben interrupted. “You, Madonna.” He looked to his brother. “Melody, your old roommate, she tried to shoot you out of jealousy, she wanted to be with me. Will pushed you aside, took the bullet.”
You blink at that. Melondy wanted to shoot you? She wanted you dead? And Will. was he even standing by you? “But… I don’t remember being pushed.”
“Oh sweet girl…” Will cood. “Do you not remember? Poor thing, it was probably so traumatic-”
“No, I remember-”
“Your brain probably blocked a lot of it out, repressed it to protect you.”
Yeah, yeah that made sense. Memory was fragile. Will winced and Ben finished cleaning him and you took his hand as a new packing kit was applied. “Thank you for saving me…” You kiss his hand, feeling the rough knuckles warm skin. “For saving our baby…”
You fell asleep beside him that night, laying on his chest. He was warm, firm, inviting and protective. Nothing mattered more than the fact your husbands and your baby were safe.
Melody was dead. After the first shot missed, she approached where the four men had gathered intent on finding you, but Ben said Pope shot her square in the forehead, that he protected you while Jonah and Reyansh took you to safety. Ben said he had stood in front of his brothers and you, fearless, brave and bold. Pope loved his people, but he loved you most of all.
When you awoke, it was lae evening and although you wanted to go back to sleep, after some tossing and turning you realized you could. Not wanting to wake Will, you check his pulse and breathing, both strong and head out of the room to see if anyone is up. You know they dont like you wandering around the mansion without protection but you weren’t a child.
After Jonah and Rey had taken you back home, you were desperate to see William, but Pope demanded your presence with Francisco, both holding you tightly and checking you over again and again, tell you how precious you were, how loved. Pope knelt in front of you, hands on your belly, kissing it. You were thankful to have such loving and protective husbands. Despite the horrors of today, you felt blessed beyond measure
You came to the kitchen first seeing a light on. Sometimes Benny liked late night snacks. Instead, you see Iris and Reyansh slow dancing in the kitchen. Iris was actually smiling. No doubt Rey was fearful of his own women’s safety being forced in the cabin with you for so long after a riot broke out right outside where she was. Silent, you step away from the cute lovers and allow them their time. Rey helped save your life today, you needed to thank him, and thank Iris for all she did for your family, you were lucky to have them both.
You try to see if Pope is awake next. When you approach his room, the grunting sounds make you stop, peaking through the slightly cracked door. Pope was on top of Francisco, fucking into his ass with his legs bent up into a press. It was a position he used on you many a time. Francisco was a puddle beneath him, his curls stuck to the sweat on his head. He looked incredible. The way Pope kissed him so deep… You couldn’t help feeling warm inside. How lucky you were that your husbands loved each other so much.
Ben was found in the gym. For a moment, you merely watch him. Shirtless in his red shorts and throwing punches at a punching bag. He probably had so much energy in him after everything today, watching his brother bleeding in his arms. She knew they didn’t always get along, Ben holding anger for Will so often and over what, you couldn’t yet discern. Maybe this tragedy would bring them back together. You admire his body, carved out and chiseled in perfect form.
You loved the bodies of all your husbands, in each and every different.
Will was largess; tall, muscular, wide everywhere. Everywhere. His body consumed you just as yours consumed him; he was like a shield, metaphorically and now literally.
Santiago was softer. A small belly that was only noticeable when he was bent over, plush though and a moon shaped ass. He was all curves, from his nose down to his calved you had massaged so ardently.
If Pope was soft, Francisco was a pillow. Heavy weight surrounded him, the broad expanse of his shoulders to the fat at his waist and you just wanted to bury your face into it, you want to bite, nibble, and worship the pudge that spilled over his pants.
Ben was lean, the tallest of them and slim hips under rippling muscles. Golden God, beholden before you and it was as if his glory radiated off him. Despite the strength he was light on his feat. He could have been a boxer in another life.
“How are you feeling?” His deep voice breaks the tranfiction of the way his body moved, stilling the punching bag.
“I’m good, just woke from a nap with Will.”
Still looking away, Ben nodded. His mood matched the storm clouds out the window. After wiping his face, Benny chugged water and then finally made his way over to you in long, quick strides. His eyes flashed with the lightning outside.
*
Pope fucked Frankie with a fury he couldn’t recall in years. Frankie had defined him, ignoring his orders to leave but no, he wanted to stay with Ben.
“You don’t think I wanted Ben and Will safe too?” He growled in his lovers ear.
“I know!”
“You’re more important!”
He almost lost Will, Ben, the savior, and most importantly Frankie today. The girl would pay, fuck she’d pay. He couldn’t do anything Madonna might see, she thinks she’s dead already… no, a gunshot was to quick for someone trying to harm his family, but he’d make her suffer.
His anger toward Francisco wouldn't be helped when today, when he went to make love to Frankie, he found him in Ben's arms, cumming on his hand.
*
Ben had you pinned against the wall, fucking into you with your legs hitched around his narrow hips. The wind outside picked up speed, displaying his anger, his frustration, his love and his lust. You let him take you, fucking into your pregnant womb with his face tucked in your neck. You felt as if you were floating, like you were the center of the world right now. The sun God orbited you. Someone had tried to take you from him, a women he used to claim as his own but she had been cast aside for a reason. In her jealousy, she though she could regain her place at his side but that was foolish. Ben would never have loved her the way he loved you, the way he loved his husbands. Will, Francisco and Pope could never love her.
She was not the Madonna.
She could never carry the savior.
She could only ever have a bastard.
*
“Gonna fill you up, Frank.” Pope grunted, breath hot against Francisco's cheek, mouth to mouth, lips to lips. “Gonna fill up this tight little hole of yours until you’re pregnant with my baby, you got that?”
Frank’s eyes went wide. “Santi, wha-” But he stopped when Santiago slapped him. This shocked Frankie, Santi didn’t slap him, he didn’t hurt him like that…
“Take it!” Santiago screams, tears of anger blurring his eyes. He chose Ben over him. He’d rather stay in danger with Ben than safety with him. “Your mine, under stand?!” When Frankie didn’t answer right away, Pope gripped his jaw and felt a warm tear fall down his cheek. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”
*
Long fingers gripping your asscheeks, digging into the sensitive skin.
Firm abs rubbing against your body.
Hips stimulating your clit.
A finger fucking into your asshole.
Everything was better than your wildest dreams. No incubus, a child on the way, friends and family. This was a life your father tried to take from you, but you were like gold that’s tested in fire.
Ben came inside when the thunder cracked, lightning still flashing and illuminating him with light. He muttered Francisco’s name.
*
“YES!” Francisco shouted in pain, face grimacing. “I’m yours! I’m yours Santi, fill me up! Make me-” He swallowed, tears forming at his long lashes. He gritted his teeth. “Make me p-pregnant!” Francisco was saying anything that'd make Santi stuff, just to make him cum and end this. He just wanted it over. All of it. He didn't understand why he wasn't allow to be happy, to feel safe, to have peace. Instead he had to submit to Santi's whims just like Beatriz.
Santiago tucked his face into his lovedrsneck, biting him as he came inside. Whimpering, tears streaming wildly down his face, Santiago bit into Frankie’s tender flesh: neck, then shoulder, till finally he just continuously bit into the skin on his large arm, drawing the blood and bruising the skin. It hurt like hell, Frankie's head thrashing back and forth on the pillow trying to take the pain and bare it. Santiago's tears mixed with blood as he finished cumming, thrusts slowing into a lul.
Francisco didn’t know where his body ended and Santi’s began.
He wanted Ben, to be held and protected by him. To be touched gently, with love. To be not possessed but show off so that he knew Ben was proud of him, proud of what they had, not what the fuck Santigo was doing to him. He wanted Madonna with her sweet kisses and open adoration. He wanted Will with his healing nature, tender hands on his arching, bleeding arm. He wanted anything but Santi’s touch right now.
Santiago curled behind Francisco. His hand rested on Frankie’s stomach.
***********
This disturbed me writing the end asdfghjkl
Madonna crying Reminds me of tww bonus chapter where little one thinks joel is dead and is just ugly sobbing
Madonna has... a lot to process today, and absolutly no therapy and no one she can be honest with about what she's witnessing.
I hope you all enjoyed... or .... something....???
Thoughts on Santis episode, Benny having a fit because he wanted Frankie but had to take madonna, will being shot, madonna is pregant, rey's thoughts!!!!! Jonah protecting madonna, etc.
UUUHHHHH poll?
love you all dearly <3 I hope to get at least one more tf fic for the triple frontier anniverary evnt before the end, and maybe something else like a TWW bonus chapter i've been wanting, but no gurantees. next week is spring break and i have 10k worth of commissions to write so il be busy! I wanna get the last chapter of my handmaids tale au out though, end that baby <3
also if you havn't yet, consider following me on my main @romanarose because im like 20 followers away from 2k and once i do, ill be open to writing stuff for a celebration!
Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders
LOVE YOU ALL!
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I Don’t Like A Gold Rush || Jungkook
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Summary: Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college's football team. Rumor has it, there's simply nothing he can't do. The same cannot be said about you, but you've never had an issue with that. You're happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you've taken an interest in him — and you're sure you shouldn't. There's no way this can end well for you... right?
Also available on Ao3.
Word count: 17.3k
Genre: College AU, strangers to lovers, slice of life, mostly fluff
Warnings & Tags: discussed insecurities, alcohol consumption, reader almost has a panic attack at some point, shy jungkook, jungkook is bad at Feelings, Reader is bad at feelings too, mutual pining kinda, Jungkook has long hair, sfw, New Year’s Day themed.
A/N: I don’t know how I would name my stories without Taylor Swift. Anyway, this is more or less centered around the New Year (it was supposed to be more and then... it didn’t happen), and I hope you’ll enjoy it! Happy New Year everyone!
The first time you hear Jungkook’s name, it’s in the sentence “Man, is there anything Jungkook can’t do?”. You look up at your friend Jin from the book you’re studying. You have no idea who Jungkook is, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jin is always complaining about how you don’t know anyone on the campus, which you think is quite unfair.
…but then you really don’t know that many people on the campus.
“What’s going on?” you ask him, because he sounds extremely annoyed, and he shows you his phone. On it, there is a score for a basketball game. You think.
Your college is famous for its basketball team… Right?
“Uh-uh,” you still say with a nod, trying to make it look like you have any idea what you’re talking about.
“This kid is crushing it at school, the girls love him, and now this!” Jin complains, a little too loud, and shushing noises come from a spot behind you. You turn around to give the group an apologetic look. “I really shouldn’t have bet against him.”
Ah, there you know what to say.
“You really need to stop making bets. You never win them.”
Jin glares at you.
“And you are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to comfort me!”
“I’ll comfort you when you stop making the worst choices imaginable,” you mutter, going back to your work. Jungkook’s name, his supposed excellence, and that basketball match — if it even is basketball — leave your mind as fast as they entered it, without leaving a trace behind.
“So the school’s won another basketball game, huh?”
You look up at Namjoon who’s just arriving to the table, holding his tray in his hands. You know he can’t possibly be talking to you about that, so you’re not surprised when Jin appears behind him. That doesn’t stop you from throwing Namjoon a disgusted look.
“Really, Joon? Sports?”
Namjoon shoots you an amused glance from behind his glasses. It’s notorious in your friends’ group that you despise conversations around that subject. You hate anything that involves objects flying around and anything that’s played in a team, and, apparently, those are the only sports that people care about. They could discuss athletics, or swimming, which you wouldn’t enjoy but you wouldn’t hate, but that never happens.
“You were right, Jin. That Jungkook guy really is impressive.”
You tune them out. You don’t care about basketball.
“You’re talking about yesterday’s game?” Yoongi asks, coming out of thin air, and you sigh. You had been hoping you would have at least one person to talk to during lunch.
“Jungkook’s friends with Hoseok,” Jin says, leaning forward conspiratorially, which does get your attention. If that’s true, then that Jungkook guy can’t be a completely terrible person. Hoseok is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.
That being said, he might have very low standards for his friends. You know him enough to appreciate him, not to judge his tastes.
“So I’m going to become friends with him,” Jin announces triumphantly, only to be rewarded by a chorus of groans and protests.
“But why, Jin?” you ask. “Please don’t talk about popularity. This isn’t high school anymore.”
“And that stuff was already stupid back then,” Namjoon adds, and you nod. You can always count on Namjoon to support you.
“And I hate people,” Yoongi says.
“And Yoongi hates people!” Namjoon immediately picks up. “Do you really want to make him go through that?”
You grin at the question. Yoongi’s misanthropy always comes in handy. Jin, however, is not amused, but he just shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s used to the three of you teaming up against him by now. Usually, it’s on academical subjects, but he isn’t phased by it anymore regardless of that. Not that there’s much that can phase Jin anyway.
“First of all, I said I was going to be his friend, not you lowly peasants, and second, he seems like a nice guy! Do I need another reason to want to make friends?”
You tilt your head.
“He’s protesting too much,” you say.
“I agree,” Namjoon nods. “That’s suspicious.”
“Very suspicious.”
“Come on,” Jin rolls his eyes, “do you really think that little of me?”
“And now he’s trying to guilt-trip us. Joon, can’t you analyze that conversation and figure out what it all means?”
“You know that’s not how literary analysis works, right?” Jin asks you, but you ignore him.
“Actually, it is,” Namjoon says, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’d say you were right with your comment,” he adds, looking at you. “I’d say… this is about parties.”
“You’re not going to actually believe—”
“Thanks, Joon,” you say, and the two of you high-five without looking at each other. Yoongi lets out an appreciate whistle.
Even if Namjoon and you aren’t being serious about this, parties actually make sense. Jin… isn’t quite a social butterfly but, unlike the three of you, he does enjoy people’s company to some degree. You know first hand that he’s been to a few this year — you had accompanied him for moral support — but they were pretty tame, and you’re aware that he at least wants to try some more intense stuff. The problem was that those were harder to be invited to. Hoseok could probably do something about it, but he tends to avoid parties on campus.
“Okay, then you should go for it,” you nod.
Yoongi and Namjoon, sitting on either side of you, approve. Jin looks a little surprised at your reaction.
“That changed your mind?”
“You said you wanted ‘the full college experience’,” Namjoon explains with a shrug. “If you think that’s part of it, we wouldn’t want to hold you back.”
“We will judge you for it, though,” Yoongi warns without batting an eyelid, pokerface perfect, and you laugh. You won’t be mean about it, of course. You just might tease him a little.
“Thank you,” Jin says. “I’ll do it, then.”
Good. If you’re lucky, it will be out of his system next time you all have lunch together.
Lady luck had never been on your side, for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t like you got the worst of things either, but usually, things that could go wrong, did go wrong. Because of that, you tried your best to remove those things from your path. Sometimes, though, you just didn’t manage to identify them.
And that’s why, when you hear Jin’s voice and look up from your food, being the first at the table as always, you see he’s accompanied by two people.
One of them has fluffy, dark brown hair, falling on either side of his face and in his eyes. He’s talking and laughing, and there’s something that you can’t help but identify as mischievous in his smile. The other is slightly taller, with jet black hair held up in a bun. He’s quiet, mouth opening for silent laughs when his friend jokes. Between them, there’s Jin, and you think that they look good together. All handsome, all holding themselves with confidence.
You had realized before that Jin felt out of place in your group, from an outside point of view at least, but it’s never been as striking as it is now, as he’s walking with people he clearly belongs with.
It makes you really thankful that he’s your friend.
“Hey,” Jin says, smiling widely, “these are—”
“You’re untying your hair before eating?” you say, looking at the guy with the bun who just sat opposite from you and took off his hair tie with a sigh. He looks up at you with wide round eyes, like you just caught him red-handed — doing what, you’re not quite sure.
That is the first thing you ever say to Jeon Jungkook.
“Um. Yes?”
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get hair in your food?”
You know people find you too blunt sometimes, think you come off as aggressive, but you almost never intend for that to happen. In that case, you just think the logic here is a bit surprising.
“That’s… a good point, actually.”
“(Y/N),” Jin sighs, “let me introduce you to Jungkook” (he points to the man who’s now tying his hair back up) “and Taehyung.” (he points to the other guy, who’s flashing you a smile.)
“Oh,” you say, looking back at Jungkook. “You play basketball.”
He lets out an awkward laugh and avoids your eyes. Instead, he grabs his fork and focuses on it, twirling it in his hand.
“Yeah, I do— I do that.”
Huh. It takes you a second to piece things together, and you think Namjoon will be of great help once he’ll be there, but for now, one conclusion comes to you.
Jungkook is shy.
“I play basketball too,” Taehyung says, leaning over the table, grinning at you, and you can tell that it’s his way of swooping in to save Jungkook. You can appreciate that.
“She hates basketball,” Jin warns.
“That’s a strong word,” you say, but only half-heartedly, because, well, you definitely don’t like it.
“I think it works.”
“You think what works?”
Jin’s face falls while you grin. If Taehyung is Jungkook’s savior, Namjoon is yours. Your friend sends you a questioning look as he sits next to you, facing Taehyung. He gives polite nods to the two basketball players, like they sit with you at lunch every week, but you notice that he doesn’t quite meet their eyes. Namjoon is not particularly shy, nor a misanthrope like Yoongi, he just isn’t too comfortable around people he’s just met.
You and Jin, well, you’re perhaps a little too comfortable. Not everyone likes it.
“He says I hate basketball.”
“But that would imply you care about basketball.”
“Exactly.”
“And you don’t.”
“I know.”
“Which means you don’t hate basketball. As always, you’re wrong, Jin.”
Jin looks extremely, extremely done with you, but when you and Namjoon high-five, Jungkook laughs quietly and Taehyung nods in appreciation — for the gesture, not the debate.
That is the moment when Yoongi drops his tray on the table and sends a weird glance towards Taehyung and Jungkook.
“What did I miss?” he asks. His tone is a bit dry, and you see Jin’s shoulders straightening. He knows Yoongi is going to be the most difficult one to win over. Not that you’ve been won over yet, but you’re not that difficult. Usually, people don’t like you, not the other way around. You don’t blame them. You’re not sure you’d like yourself very much if you were in their place.
“Oh,” Jungkook says spontaneously, “we had a class together last year! You’re majoring in engineering, right?”
Yoongi looks at him. His eyes are shining with suspicion, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Knowing him, he’s definitely wondering why Jungkook would even remember him.
“Right,” he finally confirms, slowly.
There’s a moment of silence, which Namjoon breaks.
“I’m a literature major, by the way.”
“That’s really cool,” Jungkook comments honestly, with the same spontaneity he displayed earlier.
“And I’m in mathematics,” you say.
“Wow. I thought you people existed only in legends,” Taehyung says while Jungkook avoids your eyes. You decide that, yeah, you like Kim Taehyung.
“Don’t say that, I like maths,” Jungkook protests, voice soft, much to your surprise — and, judging by his reaction, Taehyung’s.
You were right, you decide. Jungkook is not a completely terrible person.
You didn’t expect it to become a routine, for Jungkook and Taehyung to eat with you guys, but it does, and as time goes on, other people join your little table. You’re not sure you like that. It’s clear that those people are orbiting around Jungkook, which, good for them, but you don’t see why you need to be there for that.
You do see that Jungkook is not completely comfortable with all of it. He’s good at handling people, good at making jokes and at laughing at the right times, you notice, but there is a stiffness in his shoulders more often than not, and it looks like he’s well-trained at it rather than enjoying it. It kind of reminds you of Jin, except Jin is not as quiet the rest of the time. Taehyung obviously does his best not to let his friend deal with things alone, which is sweet, but he can’t do everything for him.
You barely exchange a word with Jungkook during that time period. You’re usually trying to be forgotten when the table is buzzing with noise, finding refuge in Namjoon and Yoongi’s company. You thought Yoongi would be an ally in reclaiming what’s always been your spot, but it quickly becomes obvious that he has a crush on Taehyung’s friend Jimin, so he never complains about the recent invasion of the table by strangers.
You hear a lot of basketball vocabulary. More than you care for, to be honest. That’s one of the few moments when Jungkook’s face lights up and he gets truly excited, with an almost childish happiness. His demeanor changes, from shy to confident, and the transformation never ceases to amaze you. As soon as the conversation ends, his shoulders fall, he smiles awkwardly, and focuses back on his food or his phone.
You’ve met his eyes a few times in those moments, because he often looks around him like he’s afraid someone’s noticed. He averts his very quickly, though, so you’ve never said anything about it.
So, really, there’s not much that changes. You still only speak to your three friends — you think Taehyung is a good person, and you don’t think he hates you, but you don’t have anything to say to each other —, and sure, you have a little less space when you eat and more noise around you, but aside from that, it’s pretty much the same. You think that’s a relief. You’re not too fond of change.
Usually, you’re pretty decent at spotting it coming. You did miss it when Jin said he was going to become Jungkook’s friend, but other than that you’re able to do your best to avoid it. You don’t see anything coming the day Taehyung calls out your name, though. You look up at him from the book Namjoon is showing you, surprised. He has an arm slung over Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook isn’t looking at you, of course.
“Do you think you could explain a maths-thing to Jungkook?”
You blink at him.
“What’s the ‘maths-thing’?”
“Does it matter?”
You raise an eyebrow, and Jungkook groans. You get the feeling that he didn’t really want Taehyung to ask you about it. He sends an annoyed glance to his friend, who is still smiling brightly at you, while pushing a lock of hair out of his face. His hair is tied, but this one traitorous lock always escapes.
“I’m struggling a little with probabilities,” he admits, glancing at you for half a second. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine once I can get my head back into it, I’ve just been training a lot recently and—”
“I can help you, if you want,” you say. “I’m not the most fond of probabilities, but it should be okay.”
“Great!” Taehyung says, patting his friend’s shoulder before Jungkook can answer. “You should do that then.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Jungkook asks, actually looking at you this time. You meet his eyes, notice that he looks worried about it. You can’t figure out why.
“I really don’t,” you shrug.
He smiles at you, a small, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless. Probably the first one he directs at you. It’s a nice sight, you decide, and you smile back.
Jin’s sentence “is there anything Jungkook can’t do” takes all its sense on the day you meet Jungkook at the library to study. You don’t know what you expected. You never thought Jungkook was dumb or anything, but since Taehyung asked you to help, you thought he would have some difficulties, at least. However, as it turns out, he either understands immediately when you explain something to him, or he’s already understood it. He asks for some clarifications here and there, but all in all, you feel kind of useless.
“You don’t need me at all,” you say after a little while, and Jungkook looks up from the book with the worried wide-eyed look you’ve gotten used to.
“No, no, you’re doing a great job,” he protests. “You’re really helping me out here.”
“No I’m not. It’s obvious that you could do that all on your own.”
He deflates a little at that, looks away from you.
“You help,” he mumbles. “I have a hard time focusing when I’m alone.”
Oh.
That makes a lot of sense to you, actually. You’re good at focusing all of your energy on one thing, perhaps even too good, to the point where you easily get obsessed and become unable to take care of anything else, but even you need the right conditions for that.
“Okay,” you say with a nod.
Jungkook gives you an anxious look.
“So you don’t mind helping me out?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that catches you, but you can’t tell what it is exactly. Maybe it’s the hope, or maybe it’s the fear. You don’t understand what he’d be afraid of. Worst case scenario, you would say no. That wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“We can work together,” you offer. “You can ask me if you need help for anything and I’ll just work on some other stuff.”
He seems relieved, and again, you just don’t understand it. It’s not like you’re his only option. There are plenty of people out there who could help him. Plenty of people who would jump at the opportunity of helping him. You know that, because he’s always surrounded by those people, and everybody in school seems to know him. Even when you walked into the library with him earlier, before you got to the table you’re sitting at now, a few students greeted him. You don’t see why he would attach any importance to you, specifically, helping him. You barely know each other.
“Thanks,” he says, and he gives you a small smile. For some reason, that makes you drop the subject. Instead of asking about it — which, knowing yourself, you probably would have — you shrug it off and reply with a nod.
The silence that follows feels comfortable, to you at least. You’ve never minded silence. Jin hates it, though. You get to work, watching absent-mindedly as Jungkook goes through the lesson he was working on. He does ask you a couple of questions, but it’s probably to make you feel like you’re doing something rather than because he actually needs it. You still answer them, and watch him grin, satisfied with himself, when he turns out to be right every single time.
“Are you coming to Taehyung’s party this week-end?” he asks out of the blue after about an hour.
You look up, surprised. The two of you haven’t exchanged much, and certainly have not talked about anything other than— well, other than maths. His eyes are on his notebook, as usual, and you don’t get any insight as to why he asked the question.
“I don’t know. Is Jin coming?”
“Uh, I guess? Taehyung’s probably talked to him about it.”
“Then I’m probably going.”
Jungkook mulls over your answer for a few seconds, twirling his pencil between his fingers, and you feel like you have to clarify, which is not an urge you have often. Usually, you let people decipher for themselves what you meant. That works very well with Namjoon, sometimes with Yoongi, not so great with the rest of the world. Including Jin, though Jin compensates with his impressive ability to interpret everything you say in his favor.
“We always go to parties with Jin. For moral support.”
For all that you tease him, you genuinely care for him. You know he wants you to go with him, so you do. It’s as simple as that.
Jungkook doesn’t look at you, but he still smiles at what you say, and it’s— it’s interesting. There’s something about his behavior that makes you curious, like you are when you’re trying to solve a complicated equation.
“That’s nice,” he comments.
“So… you’ll be there?” you ask. It’s taken you a long time to come up with that simple question. It often takes you a long time to find things to say to keep a conversation going. You’re pretty bad at it.
“It’s at my fraternity,” Jungkook informs you, glancing at you briefly, and you smile. This is exactly the type of party Jin wanted to go to. He’s probably happy about it. “The entire basketball team should be there.”
Great. People.
“That’s nice,” you say, because you have no idea what to add at this point. Jungkook simply nods, and the conversation dies an awkward death.
It’s another half an hour until Jungkook looks at his watch and starts putting his stuff back in his bag.
“I have to go to practice,” he tells you, clearly in a hurry. “Can we— Would you mind if—”
“We can do this again. If that’s what you meant.”
He gives you a bright smile, and that actually surprises you. He looks relieved that you finished his sentence for him.
“Thank you,” he says sincerely.
And just like that, he’s gone, practically running out of the library. For someone who talks as little as he does, he sure leaves a void when he goes away, you think, looking at the empty chair.
But you quickly shrug it off. You’re used to being alone. You like being alone.
Jungkook isn’t going to change that.
You realize very quickly that, while accompanying Jin to parties was never something you particularly enjoyed, going to this one was downright a mistake.
You have this unspoken rule, with your friends, that you shouldn’t stick together the entire time. You’re supposed to wander off, find something to do for yourself, maybe talk to some people. Get that college experience. You’ve never had a problem to do that, even if you ended up quietly sipping soda in a corner more often than not.
Here, though, you simply cannot shake off the fact that you don’t belong here, that this is not your scene. The people here are loud, energetic, garish. They make you feel like a black and white picture, like a silent movie. You want to run away, but you can’t. You don’t want to leave Jin, Namjoon or Yoongi behind, even if you doubt they’re having the same kind of problems you do. You’re pretty sure you saw Yoongi talking with Jimin, and last time you saw Namjoon, you think a cheerleader was holding him by the hand and leading him out of the room. You don’t know what Jin’s doing, but you’re trusting that he’s okay.
You walk around aimlessly, find Jungkook and Taehyung playing beer-pong with some people. Maybe you should be happy to see people you know, but you’re not. If anything, it only drives the point home even more to see them so comfortable: you don’t belong here. Your chest tightens, and you turn around. You need a little peace and quiet. You need to get away.
“(Y/N)!”
You jump at the sound of your name. No one’s said it since you’ve entered the house. No one knows you here.
Except Jungkook, who’s right behind you.
He’s more confident than usual, and you guess, based on his slightly hazy eyes, that it has a lot to do with alcohol.
“Are you having fun? How long have you been here? It’s nice to see you!”
He’s speaking fast, excitedly, and as he does, he runs his fingers through his hair, which he’s let down. It looks good on him, you decide, even as you reply to him with a tense smile.
“Hey, you should join us, we’re—”
“Do you have a closet somewhere?”
Jungkook blinks.
“A closet?”
“Yeah.”
There are probably very few things that are less weird than asking a guy if he has a closet you can get into because you’re on the verge of having a panic attack and you can’t stay outside surrounded by people a second longer.
Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just leads you through the house and opens the door to a closet for you. You get inside without giving it much more thought, and he looks at you, puzzled. He’s actually looking at you, which you decide confirms that he is drunk.
“Do you— Are you waiting for someone?”
“No,” you say. “I just need a little break.”
He thinks about your answer for a while, probably longer than needed, and nods.
And then, he gets into the closet with you and closes the door.
Inside, it’s dark, with only a ray of light coming in. You can’t see his face, which doesn’t help you understand why he just did that. The space is cramped, and you can smell alcohol coming from his breath, can feel the heat radiating from his body, but it doesn’t bother you that much. It’s still better in here than outside.
“Why did you do that?”
“I thought I would keep you company. Like you’re here to keep company to Jin, you know?”
He’s drunk, definitely, and yet you feel genuinely touched by his words. You shouldn’t, because you doubt they hold that much meaning, but you can’t help it. You don’t need company, but that’s besides the point. His intentions are what matters.
“Thank you,” you say.
“It’s not a problem. You’re helping me with my maths.”
Your first reaction is to laugh at that, because it feels completely unprompted, but then the logic of the reasoning kind of appears to you.
“I mean it!” Jungkook protests. “You haven’t talked about how I’m good at everything or how I’m the one who should help you.”
You frown.
“You shouldn’t help me. You’re good at maths, but I’m better than you.”
It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh, and just like his earlier smile, it takes you completely by surprise. It’s not one of those quiet laughs that he usually has. It’s light and pleasant, and you briefly wonder what his face looks like when he laughs like that. You kind of want to see it.
“You’re a scary person,” he tells you when he’s stopped laughing. “You always say those things directly. It’s like you don’t even care.”
You’ve heard that before. Well, you haven’t been called scary until now, but people have said that you were intimidating. You, personally, believe you’re the least threatening person to have ever walked this Earth. You couldn’t hurt a fly if you wanted to.
Jungkook makes some sense here, though. Your filter is very limited, and there are a lot of things you say that feel acceptable to you, and that other people… don’t think are acceptable. You don’t mean to do it. It just happens.
“I think you’re good at a lot of things, though,” you say slowly.
Jungkook lets out a long sigh and then you hear him sliding down to the ground. You hesitate for about half a second before joining him down there. You fold your legs, holding your knees against your chest while you wait for him to say something.
“People are always saying that,” he finally mumbles. “But what if I’m not that good? What if I fail one day?”
It’s strange. You understand what he’s saying, understand the feeling of pressure, but you don’t understand the emotions that should come with it. In your case, you know that no one holds you to a higher standard than you do. It can be unhealthy, the way you can torture yourself if you don’t meet the standards you’ve set for yourself, but at least you’re the only one you have to answer to. Obviously, it’s not Jungkook’s case.
“Then you’ll try again,” you say, because that’s what you do when you fail. “Or, if you think it’s not that important, you won’t.”
“But what will they say?” he insists. “What if we lose the next game? Or the one after that? What if I fail a class? I can’t get anything done these days.”
“You’ll be fine,” you say soothingly, half-wondering how you ended up here, comforting the college’s golden boy in a closet after fighting off a panic attack. “It’s not like you’re the only one in your team. People will understand.”
You think they will. You hope they will. They should.
“You would understand.”
It’s true, but then, you really do not care for basketball, and it’s not like you have that sort of expectations for Jungkook. You wouldn’t think much of it, if he failed at something tomorrow. If it was the maths test you’ve helped him with, you would be surprised, but that’s because you saw him studying and it was obvious he had understood everything, not because you think he can inherently succeed at everything he does.
Which you guess might be the heart of the problem here.
You reach out to put your hand on his shoulder. It’s not that easy in the dark, and you wonder for a second if you’ve grabbed something else, until you feel hair tickling your skin. Yup, you were right.
“You have the right not to be good at something every once in a while,” you say softly. “No one can be on top of their game all of the time.”
You hear what sounds like a choked sob.
“I like that they’re counting on me, you know? I like that I’m helping them out by playing. I just— I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”
He said when, not if, and that breaks your heart.
Without thinking about it, you slide your hand down his arm and grab his hand. You squeeze it in yours, gently, and then you inch closer to put your head on his shoulder. You remember reading that physical touch was good for people who were in emotional pain. You hope it helps him.
“You locked yourself in here with me because you thought I needed company,” you whisper. “There’s so much more to you than just being good at sports or having good grades. And if people don’t see that, it’s their loss. Because you’re a great person.”
He hums, but the sound is quiet, and it’s then that you realize how tense he is.
Shit. You must have crossed a boundary. You start to remove your hand, but he closes his fingers around yours, keeping you in place. He’s still tense, you can feel it everywhere his body touches yours. But he doesn’t let go.
“You mean that,” he says. There are so many emotions in his voice that you can’t identify them all. Relief, happiness, amusement… You don’t know where to start.
“I usually mean what I say.”
“I’ve noticed,” he says, and you can hear the smile that’s dancing on his lips.
He’s still not letting go of your hand, but you don’t mind. Staying here, with Jungkook, in this small closet is as good a way of spending your evening as anything else you could do out there.
So you stay.
“Where did you all vanish Saturday?” Jin asks, and Namjoon, Yoongi and yourself immediately find your food a lot more interesting. You exchange panicked glances that mean ‘did none of you stay around? This was poorly coordinated’ before finally daring to look up.
“I talked to Jimin,” Yoongi says, face as inexpressive as always.
“I played some beer-pong with Taehyung,” Namjoon says.
That leaves only you.
“I talked to Jungkook,” you tell Jin. That is technically true. It omits the part where the two of you were together in a closet, but if you said that, there would be a lot of questions you don’t really want to answer to. Somehow, you think you would be more embarrassed to tell them that there was nothing going on there than if you told them you hooked up with him. You’re not sure why.
“Jungkook disappeared for a long time,” Jin says, narrowing his eyes at you.
You do your best to keep a straight face while you poke at your salad. You don’t want anyone here to have the wrong idea, and you finally manage to put your finger on what you’re afraid of. Humiliation. You’d feel humiliated at having to tell them that nothing happened and that there is nothing Jungkook could possibly see in you. They would be nice to you, of course they would, but you don’t want to see the look in their eyes.
“Did he? Maybe that was after I left. I didn’t stay that long.”
That’s a lie.
“Really?” Jin asks, clearly skeptical. “I think I saw you there pretty late.”
Maybe when you went down to get some snacks and drinks to bring back to the closet. Damn Jungkook and his stomach.
“Well, that depends what you mean by ‘late’ and ‘long’,” you say.
That’s you calling Namjoon for help, and he recognizes your SOS for what it is. From the way Jin’s face falls, so does he.
“She’s right,” Namjoon comments, so nonchalant you would almost believe he’s doing it naturally. “What is ‘late’, really? Isn’t it always—”
“Please stop,” Jin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just because you’re a literature major doesn’t mean you’re the only one who understands words.”
“Actually it does,” you say with a nod. “That’s exactly what it means.”
You start lifting your hand for a high-five, relieved Jin’s attention is off you, but he sends the two of you a dark glare.
“You two are unbearable. Don’t do that.”
“We have to,” you protest. You would hate to miss a chance to high-five Namjoon.
“No you don’t, you—”
“Actually they do,” Yoongi says, and your jaw drops. Yoongi never intervenes, and you had always thought that if he did, it wouldn’t be in your favor. “That’s exactly how gravity works.”
Jin looks like his soul has left his body. He only comes back to himself after you, Yoongi and Namjoon have all exchanged high-fives.
“I hate you,” he says, sounding terribly tired. “I hate every single one of you.”
“Sorry Jin,” you smile warmly.
“No you’re not. You’re the worst.”
Except he sounds fond, affectionate, and you laugh before going back to your salad. You miss the quick glances your three friends exchange after that. They’ve all noticed you eluding and changing the subject. They don’t want to rush you, know you would hate it and that it’s better to drop it.
But they’ve noticed.
Working with Jungkook on Wednesday afternoons easily becomes a habit, so easily you don’t even notice it until it’s something you look forward to during the week. It adds to the time you already spend eating with him and Taehyung. Jungkook is, slowly, starting to become a part of your life. It’s a thought you refuse to dwell on, because it sounds so strange.
The Wednesdays afternoons are something special, though. You and Jungkook don’t really talk at lunch, even if he’s clearly more relaxed around you now, which you suspect is the reason why you’re ‘Taehyung-approved’. On Wednesdays, you— Well, you don’t talk much, either, but it’s different. It’s a time that only belongs to the two of you. You like that.
You slowly find out things about him, his family, his life. It’s never the main subject of conversation, but it makes you feel like you’re solving a puzzle.
“My father wanted me to focus on my classes and forget about basketball,” he comments once. “But I could do both.”
It makes you laugh, because he says it with obvious satisfaction, but it also makes you wonder if there’s more to it. Jungkook doesn’t add anything, though, and you don’t want to probe into his life, so you don’t ask. After that, small pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place.
“My high school coach told me I could train more if I didn’t work so hard for school.” But he could do both.
“My friends said I never hung out with them anymore and that I shouldn’t work so hard.” So he did both.
It’s always the same story. People telling him things, giving him opinions on what the should and shouldn’t do, and him stretching himself thinner and thinner. It’s almost a miracle he’s still doing as well as he is, honestly.
But his tone changes when he talks about his former relationships. He’s usually light and genuine, sharing with you just because. It’s clear that, as much as the stories make you frown, he doesn’t have an issue with them, and you guess that’s all that matters. The first time he says something about an ex-girlfriend of his, though, he’s guarded, almost careful. He sounds like he doesn’t want to tell you.
“My ex said I worked too much.”
He doesn’t add anything. Whatever it was she wanted, he couldn’t do it and work. Didn’t manage to do both. After that, he doesn’t look at you for the rest of the day, like he did when you first met.
You never get a name for the girlfriend. He talks about relationships again, but you don’t even know if he’s always talking about the same one. You doubt it, though, and it only makes things worse.
“My ex wanted me to attend fewer practices.”
“My ex said I didn’t care enough to make time for her.”
“My ex dumped me after I lost a game.”
That last one hurts you, because you remember him crying in the closet because of that exact fear. You want to take his hand again, but you can’t dare to.
“She’s stupid for that,” you say instead.
Jungkook looks surprised first, because you never comment on what he’s telling you, then a smile slowly forms on his lips.
“If the only reason she was with you was because you won a lot of games, you’re better off without her,” you add.
“That’s what Taehyung said.”
“Taehyung’s right.”
Jungkook goes quiet for a little while after that, to the point that you look up, worried that you might have offended him. When you do, he’s looking at you, something you can’t identify shining in his eyes.
“Everything okay?”
He blinks like he’d just woken up for a dream, then nods. He doesn’t tell you that he hadn’t believed what Taehyung said — until you said it and he looked at you and thought that yeah, maybe he was better off without her indeed.
You’re surprised to run into Jungkook late one night, as you’re walking back to your dorm. It shouldn’t shock you — you do go to the same college — but you’re so used to only ever seeing him in the library or the cafeteria that meeting him outside is almost confusing. At least he seems taken aback as well, if the way his already round eyes widen is anything to go by.
Then, his surprised face morphs into a smile, and a wave of warmth hits you without a warning. You don’t get any time to think about it before he waves at you. His shyness is not completely gone, and you see him waver, hesitate, even as he’s walking up to you. You’re quick to close the gap between you, meeting him in the middle. Just in case.
“Hey,” he says, voice a little raspy. He has what you identify as a sports bag, slung over his shoulder, and you wonder what he was doing out so late. You were working at the library until it closed, which is far from being rare for you, but that obviously wasn’t his case.
“Hey,” you reply, smiling back. “Were you— training?”
Amusement flashes in his eyes at the careful way you chose your words, afraid to get it wrong. As he grew more comfortable around you, he also started making fun of you for not knowing the first thing about basketball. Strangely, you don’t mind that much.
“I was at the gym,” he says. “Practice was earlier today.”
“Oh,” is all you can muster. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Should you ask what he was doing at the gym? The answer would only leave you with more questions, you’re sure.
You’re still debating it when Jungkook clears his throat. He reaches for his ponytail and undoes it, shaking his head so the hair fall back into place. The sight is— interesting. Pretty. You’re not sure why you’re so fascinated by it.
“Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” he asks, slight concern in his voice. “It’s late.”
“Is it on your way back?” you question, frowning. You would hate to be a bother.
“No, but—”
“I’m fine, then. I do that several times a week, I’ve never had a problem.”
That was, apparently, not the thing to say. Jungkook only looks more worried now.
“Several times a week? That’s really not careful.”
“I don’t see a problem, there’s no one around.”
“That’s exactly my p—” He stops and shakes his head, but gives a look you’ve seen before. A lot. It’s a look that says ‘I can’t believe someone as smart as you can also be so stupid’, in those exact terms. “Expected value,” he then says, and your eyes widen a little. Maths! Great. You can do maths. “Let’s say there’s a 99% chance nothing happens. Your gain is still minimal.”
Well, you get to study late and enjoy a walk home alone at night, but you’re willing to humor him.
“But in the one per-cent where something bad happens…”
He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. You know exactly where this is going, and you let out a sigh. He’s not wrong. On that aspect, at least.
“Fine.”
He grins widely.
“I just beat you at maths.”
“You didn’t beat me, I—”
“I just beat you at maths!”
You roll your eyes, choose to let him have that. It’s not going to change anything to your behavior after tonight, because the day has not come where you’ll let probabilities rule your life, but, after all, you don’t mind sharing your night walk with him.
Jungkook starts showing up to walk you home whenever he can. It’s not every time, which you’re kind of thankful for — you like his company, but you like being alone just as much, and you need a healthy dose of that every week —, but it does happen regularly. You find him sitting in front of the library, freezing cold, and you take pity on him, buying him a coffee from the vending machine inside, seconds before they lock the building.
That’s how you find out he likes his coffee tasting as little like coffee as possible.
Sometimes, he joins you later, and you hear him jogging to catch up with you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that that defeats the purpose of everything he’s doing, because it’s absolutely terrifying.
As the days turn into weeks, the air becomes colder, and you start seeing Christmas decorations appearing over the campus. You don’t know who is in charge of doing that, but they must be excited about it, because tinsel and few strings of fairy lights start appearing around the campus at the end of November. Jungkook is delighted by it, and you enjoy watching his reactions. You’re not big on Christmas, personally. You enjoy the tradition, the gift-giving, spending time with your family — you’re visiting them briefly this year — but you mostly see Christmas as an excuse for all of that. Jungkook loves it, though, and you decide that his excitement makes you like the season a little more.
“Hey, we should make a stop,” he tells you one night.
You look at him like he’s crazy. It’s the middle of December and it’s already half past nine. You’re cold, it’s dark outside, and you want to go home.
“A stop?” you repeat.
“Oh, c’mon,” he says, and he has that wide, childish grin that you’ve seen only a handful of times. You haven’t learned how to resist it yet. “C’mon!”
You sigh. But you follow.
As it turns out, he takes you just a little way off your usual trajectory. Behind a building you’ve never really paid attention to, Jungkook leads you to a small basketball court. You eye the place suspiciously. It’s empty, well lit, but you never know. A ball might come out of nowhere to hit you in the face, as they had a tendency to do when you were in high school and playing for a team that had picked you last.
By the time you turn around to tell Jungkook that, okay, you’ve seen it, let’s go home now, he’s taken off his coat and pulled a basketball out of his bag. You don’t even want to ask. His grin is even wider than earlier.
“C’mon,” he says.
“Absolutely not.”
“Let me show you, okay?”
You want to say no but— It can’t hurt, right? And Jungkook loves basketball, and you’re his— friend or something, so you should try to take some interest in it.
You take off your coat and let him lead you onto the court. There, you watch him as he dribbles in what you guess is an effective way (you can’t know for sure, you’re barely able to catch the ball after it’s bounced once so your standards are incredibly low), and then demonstrates his ability to score a handful of times. It’s not that you’re not impressed — again, you can’t do anything with this unpredictable, devilish round thing — but you also can’t say this is a quality you think much of.
You liked it a lot better when he convinced you to let him walk you home by talking about the expected value.
“You want to try?” he offers, holding the ball out for you.
You would rather die.
But you take the ball from his hand and eye the basket like it’s personally offended you. That makes Jungkook laugh.
“You can get closer than that,” he says.
You hold back a groan, aim and, of course, fail. It’s almost a relief. You can cross that off your list, again, just like you did as a kid first, then as a teenager. You’re bad at sports, always have been and, considering the effort you’re putting into it those days, always will be. That’s something you can count on.
Before you can say anything, Jungkook’s caught the ball and is running back towards you.
“Okay, let me show you.”
Is he going to— No, he’s just demonstrating it. You’re kind of disappointed not to get your typical ‘guy teaching girl anything sports related’ moment, disappointed that he doesn’t come to stand behind you to show you like they do in movies, but you can’t unpack that right now. You do watch with some degree of interest as he shows you how to position yourself.
“So you really aim for the line above the basket, not the basket, okay?”
“If you think that just because I aim for something I hit it…”
He chuckles, then gives the ball back to you, and you sigh. This. This is why you hate sports. It’s not the one-off failure, that would be fine on its own. It’s the constant humiliation whenever you even try it. You’re going to fail this attempt, and the next one, and the one after that. You’re a lost cause. You’re fine with it, too, but you don’t particularly want to go through that again.
You do your best, though. Not because you think it will change something, but because you kind of want to prove that this isn’t all you. That, even if you’re trying your hardest, there’s just something that refuses to let you score or do it right.
“Wait!” Jungkook walks over to you, puts his hand on your back, and you freeze. “You need to straighten yourself a little,” he says, placing his hand between your shoulder blades, and you nod. His hand is warm and large, you can feel it even over your sweatshirt. “There.”
He removes the hand, and you’re left a little off balance without him by your side. You shake your head quickly, shoot, and, without any surprise, miss.
Jungkook is on the ball just as fast as before, but you’re as quick as him to grab your coat and put it back on. You’re already feeling warm all over, though.
“You don’t want to try again?” he asks, sounding genuinely disappointed.
Of course, you take pity on him.
“Maybe next time,” you say.
He gives you a bright smile, so genuinely happy, and you know that you won’t be able to deny him next time either.
Jin is the reason you’re here, and that is the version you will stick with. No, you didn’t want to go see a basketball game, even if Jungkook is playing. No, you didn’t feel the slightest bit curious about it. No, you would not be there if Jin hadn’t asked. It’s Jin’s fault if you’re here on a Friday night instead of being, well, at your place, likely doing something equally as unproductive.
You don’t even understand what is going on in the field. There’s a lot of running and throwing the ball, that’s for sure, but then, you’ve just learned that scoring from different places in the field and at different moments will not earn the players the same amount of points.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen your friends look at you with such consternation as when they had to explain it to you.
In that situation, you can’t say that you get much from looking at the field. You definitely follow Jungkook with your eyes, cheer and clap when he scores, and let out cries of disappointment with the rest of the crowd when he doesn’t, but truly, the only way you have any idea what’s going on is by looking at the score board. And the truth is, that score is a little too close for comfort.
You hate that it has that much of an impact on you, but it stresses you out. Your leg bounces on the floor, an habit of yours Jin hates, but he’s too focused to notice, which is only more stressful. Jin always notices, and if it doesn’t, it must mean that the situation is dire.
The remaining seconds are slowly ticking down. Jungkook’s team is ahead by only one point, which means that if the other team scores, they will win. You think. You’re not entirely sure, but for your defense, you’ve just heard about it. Jungkook seems to be everywhere on the field. Taehyung is his shadow, perhaps not as noticeable or as spectacular in his actions, but certainly effective.
Again, you have no knowledge of basketball whatsoever.
Jin grabs your thigh, and only then do you realize that something’s happened. The action was so quick, so smooth, that you missed it entirely — but maybe you were also kind of thinking of something else.
Someone from the other team — you don’t even know your school’s team’s players, you’re not going to learn the other ones — just made a break for it. Based on what you can tell, Taehyung blocked his path, pushing him straight into Jungkook’s arms. In a movement you cannot begin to comprehend, Jungkook takes the ball from him, without ever stopping his run.
After that, he’s unstoppable.
He crosses the field, looking almost like he’s dancing in the way he avoids his opponents, and, of course, scores.
The time falls to zero. The crowd stands up like one man, screaming and shouting, and you yourself find yourself jumping up to hug Jin. He hugs you back, but the two of you quickly separate, patting each other’s backs awkwardly.
Jin starts talking with Namjoon and Yoongi, but you tune them out — it’s not like you understand what they’re saying anyway — to look at the field. The players have lifted Jungkook on their shoulders and he’s laughing, holding on to them so he doesn’t fall, and you grin.
“Come on,” Jin says, “let’s go congratulate him!”
That sounds like a terrible idea, you think. You won’t be the only ones, as the crowd has already invaded the field, and you doubt you’ll be able to get very close.
You still follow him. You alternate between clinging to his arm and to his shoulders so you don’t lose him, and trust him to elbow his way through the crowd. You hear him apologizing profusely in front of you, but he does not stop. Slowly, you make it down. Once you’re off the stairs, people are not as compactly gathered, and you can just walk between them. Jin grins at you, and you give him a thumbs up. Yeah, he did good here. You can give him that.
“Hey, Jungkook!” he calls out.
Jungkook was talking with some girls, but he looks up at the sound of his name, excuses himself, and jogs towards the two of you.
And it is then, in the few seconds it takes him to get to you, that it hits you. Like a ton of bricks.
You had known that Jungkook was objectively attractive, of course. There was no ignoring that. But Jin was objectively attractive, too, and that had never changed anything between the two of you. With Jungkook, right now, it does. His skin is glistening with sweat, and he wipes his chin with his shirt, and oh no, you can see his well-defined biceps and the line of his abs, and some hair is escaping from his ponytail, and he’s grinning with a happy, proud smile, and his eyes are shining and—
Jungkook is hot. That’s your realization. You had been aware of it, technically, but it’s like it only clicks for you at that exact moment.
“You came,” he tells you with a bright smile, and you can feel your entire face heating up. You pray that it’s not visible.
“Yeah,” you squeak out. “Great, um, great game?”
It sounds like an interrogation because you have no idea if it was one. It looked difficult, but maybe that was because they played terribly today. You don’t know that.
Jungkook’s smile widens a little, and you know that he has you all figured out. He knows you don’t understand the first thing about this whole thing.
“Thanks,” he still says.
His chest is still heaving quickly, and it draws your attention to his— his everything. The way he’s leaning towards you as he’s trying to catch his breath doesn’t help either. You wait for Jin to say something, to save you, but when you look around, you realize the traitor has abandoned you completely.
Okay, he hasn’t technically abandoned you, he’s just gone to congratulate Taehyung, but it’s the same difference.
You hear someone else calling Jungkook’s name before you’ve figured out what to say. He looks around, then gives you an apologetic look.
“Sorry, I—”
“No problem, you should— I have to go anyway.”
This is not like you. You’re an awkward person, and you struggle in social situations, but you don’t usually trip over your words like that. You kind of hate it.
“Okay, so, um, I’ll see you…?”
“Wednesday, yeah. Or— before. At lunch. If you’re there.”
This is terrible.
“Okay.” Jungkook gives you one last smile, and then he’s off, and you’re standing alone in the middle of a crowd. Your chest is heavy and it feels painful.
You hate this.
It’s only after that that you start realizing how big of a part Jungkook now plays in your life. He walks you home at night sometimes. You eat with him once or twice a week. You study together for an entire afternoon on Wednesdays. He’s just— everywhere. And it’s not that it’s a bad thing, because the feeling you get when you see him is a pleasant one, but it is disconcerting. It’s something that you have no control over whatsoever and that’s not— that’s not good for you.
You realize how much attention you were already paying to him, too, which is even more annoying. The signs were there. You should have understood this sooner. If you had, maybe you could have prevented it.
Because that’s the thing. You know the situation is ridiculous. You believe Jungkook sees you as a friend, and you’re happy with that, but there is no way he thinks of you as anything else. That is not an idea you should even begin to entertain. You can handle rejection, you’re used to it in so many aspects, though it’s rarely romantic, but you cannot take getting your hopes up only for them to be crushed.
The thing is, you can’t help it at this point, can’t force your feelings back in. There is so much to like about him. The way he plays with his hair, the quiet laughs when he’s in public, the loud ones when he’s walking you home, the sparkle in his eyes when he asks you a question in maths and it turns out he already had it right, the look on his face when he talks about basketball,… There’s so much.
You briefly consider avoiding him, but that’s not really an option. You like being his friend. You see your feelings as annoying, pesky little things that have no business being there in the first place. You don’t even hate the rush that goes through you when you see him, the way just looking at him brings a smile to your lips that you simply can’t hold back.
But you really, really hate the wishful thinking. The hope.
The feelings are fine, as long as you don’t think too hard about it. As long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Because that would break your heart.
And it’s only a matter of time before that happens.
You really considered declining when Jin asked you to come to this New Year’s party. Your last experience had effectively convinced you that those new parties he was getting invited to were not for you. That was fine, to each their own, but that did mean you didn’t really want to go. He clearly didn’t need you there anyway. You didn’t even know why he asked.
But he did, and he insisted, and he gave you his best puppy eyes, and that’s the thing about Jin: he’s very, very good at giving puppy eyes.
So that’s why you’re there, wearing a red dress that’s way too flashy for you, leaning against a wall and staring into the void. You feel empty and, though you’re not alone, lonely. You’re surrounded by strangers, and there are people everywhere in the house, but you don’t know them, and you can’t just start a conversation with them. It’s not something you do, it’s not even something you want.
You haven’t felt the urge to lock yourself inside a closet yet, though, so you guess that’s an improvement compared to last time.
Looking around, you can see Jimin, perched on the counter, listening to Yoongi talk with a smile on his face. Jin is somewhere else in the room and, though you can’t see him, you sometimes hear him, so you know he has his flirting voice on. Namjoon is nowhere to be seen, but that’s probably a good sign. He always get lucky at those parties. You don’t know how he does it. It’s impressive, honestly. Hoseok showed up earlier, and everyone greeted him like he was a star — which is kind of accurate, actually, at the campus’ scale.
You know, of course, that Jungkook and Taehyung, as inseparable as ever, are by the pool table. You also hate that you know it, because now your mind is constantly wondering if it’s weird that you haven’t been there yet, or if it would be weird to show up. Neither, probably, because exactly no one cares except for you, but you’re the master of torturing yourself with useless considerations.
God, you hate having a crush. It’s just so— unpractical. You also hate that you didn’t see that one coming, and that you didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. Usually, you’re pretty good at nipping those kinds of feelings in the bud. Now, you can only wait it out.
With a sigh, you push yourself away from the wall to wander aimlessly around the house. You promised Jin you’d stay until midnight, and you intend to keep that promise. It’s not like there’s anything for you to do, but still, that way you can look like you’re doing something and look a little less weird. Or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t really matter anyway.
Passing in front of the room with the pool table, you realize that Jungkook is gone. Taehyung is still there, playing with Hoseok, both looking pretty wasted, but Jungkook has vanished. That’s not good. You don’t want him to spring up on you out of nowhere like he did last time. You won’t know how to react if that happens, probably fumble for words, and it will be very unpleasant and very embarrassing for everyone.
You consider finding another closet, then decides against it. There’s just fifteen minutes left until midnight, anyway. That’s not too long. You can just wait it out.
You slowly make your way through the house. No sign of Jungkook anywhere. Maybe he left. Maybe he’s already back to the pool table and you missed him completely. Maybe he’s locked himself in a room with a girl and—
Oh you hate this. You hate feeling jealous. You hate that you have no control over it, you hate that it makes you sad, you hate that you have no right to feel like that. Jungkook isn’t yours. He’s probably even considered you for anything. You should consider yourself lucky you’re even friends with him in the first place.
You do your best to push everything out of your mind. Alcohol has never looked more tempting, but you don’t want the hangover with the morning, so you ignore the inviting bottles of beer and walk out.
It’s freezing — of course it’s freezing, it’s December you idiot, is there anything you can do right tonight — and you shiver, but you stay there. The cold is both numbing and soothing, and while you’re mentally complaining about it, you’re not thinking about anything else, so that’s good.
The door opens and closes behind you, and you guess someone is coming out to smoke. You move over to give them some space, but just as you do that, a jacket falls over your shoulders. You jump at first, and then the warmth makes you sigh in relief.
“You shouldn’t go out without a coat,” Jungkook says, because of course it’s him.
“I feel that you’ve been scolding me a lot recently,” you chuckle, glancing up at him.
He pouts, buries his hands in his pockets. He’s obviously cold as well, but at least his shirt covers his arms.
It also hugs his muscles real nice, but that’s besides the point.
“That’s because you make very poor decisions,” he mutters, looking at his feet. “You have to realize that.”
“You’re right. I could have taken my coat outside.”
“You know that walking back all alone in the middle of the night is way worse,” he protests, and then you laugh, because that’s exactly what you wanted, and he goes quiet for a second. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, looking away from you again.
“I’m not,” you say, and you take a step in his direction so you can bump your shoulder against his. “You shouldn’t worry that much, but I think it’s nice that you do. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.”
“That worked really well,” he says, and he sounds surprised about it. You wonder if it’s because he usually doesn’t get angry for stuff, but you can’t tell for sure. “Hey, you—”
People start shouting numbers inside, and you turn around to look at them.
“It’s midnight,” you say.
“Five!”
You look up at Jungkook. He’s significantly taller than you. Not as much as Namjoon, but still.
“Four!”
Jungkook looks back at you, smiles, and it takes your breath away. His hair looks very good like that, you think absent-mindedly, with the way it falls on either side of his face.
“Three!”
It’s too late to go back inside now. It would definitely be a weird thing to do. Which means you’re here, alone, with Jungkook.
“Two!”
Your eyes flicker to his lips. You wonder what it would be like to kiss them. You haven’t let yourself even consider it before, but right now your brain isn’t functioning all that well. Probably because of how loud your heart is beating in your chest.
“One!”
You look back up and his eyes are wide and focused on you. There’s that same tension in his shoulders as when you first met him, except, back then, he couldn’t look at you, and now it seems that he can’t look away.
“Happy new year!”
You decide you shouldn’t think about your next move. You get on your tiptoes to plant a kiss at the corner of his lips, right at the border between friends and something else, but he leans forward right at that moment, and his hands cup your face, and then he’s kissing you.
It’s like an explosion. You don’t know what you should focus on. How warm he is, how soft and large his hands are, how his lips move against yours, how he tastes, or simply the fact that he’s kissing you, Jungkook is kissing you!
The door slams open, and the two of you move away in a jump.
“Happy new year Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, obviously drunk, soon joined by several other members of the basketball team. If he’s seen what happened, he doesn’t say anything, and you doubt Taehyung would have that kind of control over himself.
Soon, Jungkook is surrounded and they start to drag him back inside. He gives you a brief, apologetic look, then follows them, laughing. You remain there, frozen, unsure of what to do. You take a hesitant step towards the door, only to see a girl planting kisses on his cheeks while he blushes. What gets to you, though, is the arm he’s wrapped around her, the way he’s tracing circles on the naked skin of her shoulder. It makes the gesture look… intimate. Personal.
You let out a brief, bitter laugh, that there is fortunately no one to hear. You feel confused, but mostly, you feel stupid.
Fuck that.
It doesn’t take long for you to drop the jacket onto a chair and find your coat. You wish a happy new year to Namjoon, when you pass by him on your way out, and he looks a little surprised, like he hasn’t heard the shouting. You don’t want to know what he could have been up to.
You’ve kept your end of the bargain, you think as you leave. Jin won’t be able to complain to you. You feel some petty sort of satisfaction when you step outside and find yourself alone alone, finally. You like this. You like being alone. You’ve never asked for anything else.
You give one last look to the party, then vanish into the night. You’re better off on your own anyway.
“I don’t think I’ll be coming,” you say, nonchalantly, as everyone around the table is talking animatedly about a party for the next week-end.
You had hoped it would go unnoticed in the middle of the conversation, but, unfortunately, that doesn’t go as planned. Taehyung turns horrified eyes towards you, Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi all look surprised, and Jungkook… You don’t know how to read him. There’s that surprise, as well, but then he looks down before you can tell anything else. Not that that changes much. He’s barely looked at you today.
You haven’t talked to him since New Year’s Eve. You had other things on your mind, and then he didn’t show up at the library last Wednesday.
“What do you mean, you won’t be coming?” Jin asks. “You always come to parties.”
You shrug. You don’t miss the alarmed looks your friends are exchanging, and you’re sure Namjoon can see through you. Because it’s not like you to do something like that, whatever reason you may give.
“I don’t like them. They’re too loud, and I can’t say that I really enjoy standing alone for half the night.”
“You could stay with us,” Namjoon offers.
“And watch you pick up a girl every time? No thank you,” you reply with a disgusted shiver.
“You could stay with me,” Yoongi says.
You give him a look, and he grimaces, backing down immediately. Okay. He can see why you wouldn’t want that either. Plus he’s pretty sure that Jimin and him are about to get it on after weeks of flirting, so it’s probably not a great idea.
“What about me?” Jin asks. He doesn’t sound as energetic as usual, his voice almost quiet, and you realize that he probably feels bad because of what you said. He knows you come to those parties because of him, so knowing you don’t have fun at all when you’re attending — you understand that he might feel responsible.
“I think I would bore you very quickly,” you chuckle. “You’re not going to get the fun you want with me. But it’s fine, really. I tried it, and now I know it’s not for me. I can just—”
“No,” Taehyung says.
You blink.
“No?”
“I’m taking this personally,” he tells you, looking you dead in the eye. “You’re coming to this party and I’m going to make you enjoy yourself.”
You’ve never seen him so serious, and you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.
“Taehyung,” you say softly when you’re done. “I appreciate that, I do, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”
Taehyung opens his mouth, then winces and closes it. You’re not sure what happened there, but he gives Jungkook an offended look.
“I’m sorry,” you add. “I’m sure your parties can be great, but—”
“I get it,” he sighs. “But you owe me.”
You’re not sure why, but fine.
“And you can’t say anything bad about those parties, to anyone. Ever.” In that moment, he looks almost threatening, and you blink, confused. He can’t possibly take it that seriously, can he?
Then he yelps and rubs his leg. He gives Jungkook another annoyed look, but Jungkook doesn’t even look up from his food.
“Leave her alone,” he just mumbles.
Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t add anything. He does give you a long, pointed glance, though, before muttering under his breath something that sounds a lot like “I won’t let that slander stand,” and you think that’s hilarious too.
When you risk a glance at Jungkook, his arms are folded over his chest, and he looks deep in thought. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes focused on his meal, though he’s not touching it. It’s stupid, but the image of a child that has just been scolded flashes in your mind.
“Jungkook? Is everything alright?”
He jumps at your question, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes meet, but it’s extremely brief, and your chest tightens. This sucks. You thought the two of you had gotten past that now, and you hate that you lost what you had. It’s not like it’s your fault. He kissed you, and then he bailed on you first chance he got. Why would he do that, why would he risk it, if he was going to react like that afterwards?
“I’m fine,” he says with a tense smile, and you doubt it’s true, but you don’t know what you should ask him to confront him about it. You don’t want to talk about the kiss ever again. You certainly don’t want to do it in front of your friends.
So you jump on the first chance you get to leave the table. You don’t ask yourself if it’s a weird thing to do. It probably is, but fuck it, you’re weird, and everyone else can deal with it. You refuse to subject yourself to something unpleasant longer than absolutely necessary.
Except the looks you get are mostly concerned ones, from Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook does look up as you walk away, eyes following you almost longingly, and then he lets out a long sigh that catches Taehyung’s attention. He doesn’t say anything, but he narrows his eyes at him.
God. He really has to get everything done here, doesn’t he?
At first, you think that this is it. Your— your whatever it was that you had with Jungkook is over. You’ll see him around every now and then, and maybe he’ll give you a polite nod, though it doesn’t look like he would even do that right now, but there won’t be anything else. You’ll go back to being basically strangers, and it will be fine, because really, nothing happened there, right? You had a crush on him, he kissed you once, and then nothing. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.
Sure, it makes you a little sad. Sure, you catch yourself looking at him while he’s surrounded by girls who are all so much better for him than you ever were, and it hurts a little. Sure, walking back home alone at night is a little more unpleasant than it used to be, but that’s the thing. It’s only a little. You would almost pat yourself on the back for it. Congrats, (Y/N). You made it out before you got too attached. You probably avoided a world of hurt.
Because you know. You know that if you had gotten in too deep, it would have hurt like hell to not have Jeon Jungkook. And sure, it hurts right now.
But only a little.
You’re good. You’re safe. You know that Namjoon and Yoongi would nod if you told them about it. They understand, in a way a lot of other people don’t. You don’t think that Jin would, for example. He would tell you to take the risk, not understanding that people like Jungkook used to pick you last for their teams when you were in high school, not understanding that as far as you’re concerned, you’ve handled more than enough rejection throughout your life. But Namjoon and Yoongi… They’re definitely more successful than you in matters of the heart, but they would still understand. Not that you’re going to tell them about it, because it’s a stupid story, because there never was anything there, and because you’d feel really dumb talking about how you thought, how you hoped that— You’re not going to tell them anything. At least everything’s okay now.
And then, Jungkook appears at your usual table at the library on a Wednesday afternoon. He drops his bag on the floor and takes a seat next to you. You’re surprised to see him when you look up, too focused on your studies to notice him approaching. He has big, wide doe eyes, and he watches your reaction carefully.
“You’re— This seat isn’t taken?”
You shake your head. No. People rarely come here, and you don’t really study with people. Well, didn’t, you suppose.
“Do you mind if I sit here?“
“The seat’s free. You can take it if you want.”
You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You never considered that Jungkook would— That he would—
“I, um, I like studying with you. It helps me focus,” he says, eyes flickering away from you. “So, if you don’t mind I’ll— Can I come back here on Wednesdays?”
You want to tell him that you can’t stop him, that he can do whatever the hell he want, but even though it’s on the tip of your tongue, you don’t.
“Of course you can,” you say instead.
Jungkook looks up long enough to flash you a smile, and you know. This isn’t over, and you’re not going to be fine. You’re probably going to feel crushed, sooner than later, and you could have stopped it all right now.
You think about Yoongi and how not like him it is to be doing what he is with Jimin. How he’s taking a risk. How it could oh so easily not have paid off.
It’s going to, of course. You just need to look at Jimin’s eyes when he’s talking to Yoongi to know that. But Jungkook doesn’t look at you like that. Jungkook doesn’t look at you at all.
And yet here you are. Taking that exact same risk.
God. You can be so stupid some times.
Jungkook glances at you quickly while you’re deep in thought, tapping your pencil against your cheek, and a small smile forms on his lips. He’s quick to glance away, because he would hate it if you caught him, of course, but the smile doesn’t fade.
He couldn’t have forced it to do so if he tried.
“You have to come to the next game.”
“Taehyung, hey, nice to see you to, I’m doing fine, I—”
“I’m serious, (Y/N). I know you hate basketball and everything that breathes, but—”
“I don’t hate you.”
“—this is really important and— Wait, really? Thank you. I feel that means a lot coming from you.”
“Is that how you see me? I don’t hate everyone, Taehyung.”
“Can you give me a list of people you don’t hate?”
“Well, you, Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon…”
“Jungkook?”
“…Sure. Jungkook. Why do you want me to come to the next game?”
“Because we might lose.”
“And I’m supposed to change that how?”
“You owe me, remember?”
“I— Because of the parties? Seriously? I need to sit through hours of you guys running after a ball because I don’t like parties?”
“I would really appreciate it if you could avoid describing basketball as ‘guys running after a ball’.”
“I would really appreciate not having to go watch the game.”
“Don’t you want to support your friends on the team?”
“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be there. Just— stop that thing you’re doing with your eyebrows. Why are you even doing that?”
“You’re so slow. How are you so slow? I thought you were supposed to be smart!”
“Taehyung…”
“Just be there!”
“I will.”
“You better!”
“Or what, what will you— Taehyung! You can’t just run off like— Well. I guess he could.”
You hadn’t thought sitting through a basketball game could become a more painful experience to you than it already was. As it turns out, you were wrong. It was so much worse when the people you wanted to win were losing. Despite yourself, you found yourself getting invested, standing up and shouting encouragements along with Jin and Namjoon, and protesting loudly when things didn’t go your way.
You were not cut out for this. Not because you still didn’t understand half the rules — you could have by now if you had made the effort of memorizing them — but because of the stress. God, how did your friends handle that regularly? How did the players handle it? You kept looking at Jungkook. You could tell how unhappy he was with the situation, could see the disappointment settling in. He also seemed to get more nervous as time went by, which didn’t help his performance, and his words kept echoing in your mind.
”I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”
You’re half way through the game and things are not looking good when Taehyung waves you over. You run to the railway, straining to hear him, and when you finally understand what he’s saying, you regret making any effort at all.
“You can’t possibly be serious!”
But he is.
“You owe me, (Y/N)!”
“I’m already— What’s it even going to do?”
“Trust me on that one, okay?”
You glare at him, but he’s looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes, and there’s nothing you can do against that. You sigh deeply. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest just thinking about what he’s asking you to do. Maybe it’s not such a big deal for him, that sort of stuff, but for you— For you it’s downright insane to even consider.
“Kim Taehyung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “if this goes bad, I’ll kill you and plant your head on a stick outside of my door to warn my enemies not to underestimate me.”
He has the audacity to shrug at that.
“It won’t go bad.”
You look up. Take a deep breath. And call Jungkook’s name.
The gym is insanely loud, and it takes both you and Taehyung’s efforts, as well as a lot of waving, for Jungkook to notice you. When he does, though, he runs towards you, worry obvious on his face. He’s looking directly at you for once, and the intensity of his stare almost makes you shiver.
“Is everything alright?” he asks when he gets there, eyes scanning you quickly to make sure that you’re okay.
“It’s fine, I just—”
“What are you doing here? You hate basketball. Did something happen?”
You shake your head. You don’t know how you’re supposed to do this, especially when he’s looking so puzzled and when he’s questioning your sanity for showing up at one of his games. You glance over at Taehyung who gives you a decided nod.
Ah. Fuck it.
Leaning over about as far as you can go, you cup Jungkook’s face, and as his expression turns to one of surprise, you kiss him. If people around notice or have a reaction, you can’t tell, because Jungkook pushes himself against you and buries his hand in your hair as he holds you. There’s not much space left for thinking in your mind, instead entirely consumed by thoughts of him. He’s completely sober this time, and you don’t taste alcohol on his tongue. He’s also not going as slow, almost desperately kissing you back, one strong hand supporting you so you don’t fall over, and you just melt.
It takes everything in you to push yourself away. When you do, you’re breathless, and he’s staring at you with eyes even wider than usual. You’re pretty sure Taehyung would want you to give an encouraging speech right now, but you don’t want to do that right now.
“I really don’t care if you’re winning or losing games,” you say instead. “If you’re sad, I’ll be sad with you, but it’s never going to change anything in how I see you. But I’ll be here encouraging you.”
He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight.
“Promise?” he asks, almost childishly.
You’re not sure which part he’s referring to, but they’re all true, so you nod.
“I promise.”
He smiles, and then both him and Taehyung are running back across the field and getting yelled at by their coach, but even from where you’re standing, you can see their smiles.
You guess that means you’re not going to murder Taehyung.
“This is actually insane. How is Jungkook even doing that?” Yoongi asks in disbelief after Jungkook scored extremely impressively yet again, and you fidget in your seat. You’re very happy to see that, though you don’t how you feel about the smug looks Taehyung is sending you, but you don’t want—
“It’s the power of love,” Jin says, nodding like he just gave an essential truth to the meaning of life.
—this. You, very specifically, don’t want this.
“Jin,” you sigh, “there’s no such thing as—”
“Actually,” Namjoon interrupts you, “I think he’s right. The power of love is a thing, and I think this is a perfect demonstration of it.”
You gape at him, in shock. He betrayed you?
“Did you just—”
“Namjoon’s right,” Yoongi nods. “This is how the power of love works. You take love, and you turn it into strength.”
And then, him, Jin and Namjoon high five, and you gasp. Traitors. All of them.
But after that, Jimin says off-handedly “Maybe you should come and kiss me before my next competition” and Yoongi’s brain visibly stops functioning, so you consider yourself avenged.
After the match, you wait for Jungkook outside of the locker room. Jin insisted you should go celebrate on the field, but you had declined. It felt like the situation required something a little more private, so now you’re here, leaning against the wall, looking at your phone so you’ll seem busy, even if there’s nothing on there to occupy yourself.
You’re not the only one there, and that doesn’t help soothing your nerves. There are a lot of girls, all pretty and smiling. It makes you feel like a groupie, and you don’t like it. You’re relieved for a second when the door opens and the team comes out, but it doesn’t last long, because the girls are soon surrounding them. You remain where you were standing, watching the whole thing happen. It takes a few moments before you notice Jungkook’s bun standing out of the group, and it makes you smile.
You catch Taehyung’s eye first, and, after you’ve sent him a glare that you hope was threatening, he pushes Jungkook out of the group. At first, he seems confused, before he finally finds you. You wave at him hesitantly. He blinks a few times, his eyes wide, then walks towards you.
“Hey,” he says when he joins you. He’s towering over you. Usually, you don’t like that, and you’ve complained about having to look up at Namjoon more than once, but you don’t necessarily mind right now.
“Hey,” you reply.
Silence stretches between the two of you as you try to think of something to say. You should have prepared a speech, you know that, but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t have been able to say it either.
“Taehyung told me he told you to kiss me,” Jungkook blurts out after a while, looking away from you, and you give him a surprised glance. “So, you don’t have to—”
“No, I wanted to kiss you,” you interrupt him, a puzzled frown forming on your face.
Jungkook’s head whips back towards you, and you just stare at him in confusion.
“Do you really think I would have kissed you just because Taehyung asked me to?”
“Well you— you came to the game because he asked you to, right?”
“That’s not the same—”
“Jungkook!” someone from the team calls. “We’re going to grab a bite to celebrate, do you wanna come?”
Jungkook sighs, then gives you a sharp look.
“You wanted to kiss me,” he repeats.
You nod.
“Why?”
You bite your lower lip, and you’re not oblivious to the way his eyes fall to your mouth when you do.
“And I’m the blunt one,” you mumble.
“Sorry, I–”
“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just— I wanted to kiss you because I like you. Obviously.”
Jungkook swallows, and you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looks over his shoulder at his friends.
“You can go without me!”
There are some protests, but he ignores them to give you his entire attention. It’s… not an unpleasant feeling.
“You disappeared after I kissed you the last time,” he says.
“You left,” you protest immediately. “You kissed me, and then the second your friends arrived, you acted like nothing happened and you left.”
“I didn’t want to— I just— They’re really annoying about that stuff, you know? I thought it would probably be better if I talked to you after— ‘m sorry. I didn’t— didn’t realize it—”
You look at Jungkook, watch him fumbling for words, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, how much you do like him. Those words really don’t do it justice, and maybe you’re not quite ready to talk about love just yet, but you like him so much, so much it makes your heart swell, so much you don’t think what what he’s trying to tell you would change anything to it, and yet what he’s trying to say is exactly what prompts your realization. He didn’t want to hurt you. Wanted this to be private, for just the two of you, wanted to see how you felt about it. And maybe he went the wrong way about it, but it means everything that he was trying.
“Walk me home?” you ask.
Jungkook finally stops his rambling.
“Are you sure?”
Of course, he has to ask that now, after weeks of trying to convince him to let you walk on your own. Still, you smile and nod, and when you start walking side by side, you grab his hand. He freezes temporarily before grinning and squeezing your hand, pulling it into his pocket so you won’t be too cold, because the air of January is chilling.
“Congratulations for the game,” you say after a long, comfortable silence. You had almost forgotten about it.
“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I had some help.”
And then, he winks at you, and your heart misses a beat. That’s when you understand something you hadn’t even considered before: if Jungkook stops being shy around you, you’re done for. You’ll be the one constantly flustered.
“So,” you say, slowly, trying to keep yourself composed, “why did you kiss me?”
“Um. Same as you?” Jungkook’s confidence disappears, and he returns to his awkward self, and you see that, as much as you like it, you want him to be comfortable around you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little.
“What do you mean by that?” you ask innocently.
He gives you a horrified look that soon turns to an offended one when he notices you grinning widely.
“You’re so mean,” he says, but he’s smiling too, “you’re the meanest person I know.”
You’re laughing at that point, as you stop in front of your dorm.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Fine,” he sighs dramatically. “I kissed you because I like you.”
It’s funny. You knew that was what he was going to say, knew it was coming, and yet it gets to you all the same.
“With you, I don’t feel like I have to be the school’s star, you know? I can just be— Jungkook. You don’t expect me to be anything else.”
He’s right. You like Jungkook. With his insecurities and his flaws. You don’t want him to perform for you, and you don’t care what he’s doing right and wrong. Just studying maths in the library with him makes you happy.
He eyes your dorm and takes a deep breath.
“I should go,” he says.
You hum.
“Yes, it would be a really bad idea if you came up tonight.”
But you’re not letting go of his hand, and he’s close to you now, close enough that you can feel his breath catching in his throat. It makes you smile.
“You’re so mean,” he repeats.
This time, instead of laughing, you kiss him, and it’s completely different from the two previous times. There is no uncertainty in this kiss, no surprise, no pressure, no fear. It’s perfect. Jungkook’s hand comes to cup your cheek, his lips soft against your own. His long fingers gently stroke your jaw as he keeps the kiss chaste and sweet. It only makes you yearn for more and when he moves away, you can see in his eyes that he wants more as well.
You just don’t think he wants it now.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” you ask.
“I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says solemnly, and it rings like a promise, which makes you smile.
When you move away, though, he doesn’t let go of you, and a pouty expression appears on his face before he releases you.
“I— Yeah. You should go.”
“You can come up if you want to, you know?”
He hesitates, rolls his lips together.
“I want to savor this,” he admits to you in a near whisper.
“Then I’ll go.”
“Yes. Good night.”
“Good night.”
You feel light and giddy as you walk through the door. It’s a nice and strange feeling, like you could just start floating any second.
You already can’t wait for the next day.
People are definitely weirded out by your relationship with Jungkook. Or, rather, by Jungkook’s relationship with you. You’re pretty sure most of the people who give you weird looks when you sit next to him and he wraps his arm around you, or when you walk hand in hand, wouldn’t pay attention to you if you went to class naked. But they all know who Jungkook is, and you guess it is weird to see you in conjunction with him.
They could ignore it and consider you mere part of the scenery when he ate with you, you suppose, but it is harder to do now. You’re not too fond of being the center of attention, to be honest. You don’t know how Jungkook does it.
What takes you by surprise the most is people being nice to you. That confuses you to no end, because you know for a fact they don’t care about you, not really, and you cannot fathom what they think they’re going to get out of this. You’re pretty sure there are a girl or two who are doing that to get closer to Jungkook, and some, you think, have decided to be nice to you because they think that if Jungkook likes you, you can’t be a total lost cause.
You don’t like that feeling. Not at all. You don’t like it when you’re going to class, you don’t like it during lunch, and you definitely, definitely do not like it when people rush towards you the second you get to a party.
Yeah, you’re giving Taehyung what he wanted, in the end. He said that both you and Jungkook owed him, because without him you wouldn’t be together, and you eventually gave in.
You thought it would be fine, now that you have someone to spend time with, but you understand with horror that your status has changed now. You’re not invisible anymore. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriendTM. Because of that, you spend much longer in the entrance making small talk than you would have wished to, and you’re stopped a couple of times while you’re desperately looking for your boyfriend to save you from this hell on earth.
You’re not surprised at all to find him playing beer pong with Taehyung and other guys from the team. He hasn’t gotten time to get drunk yet, so he’s quite impressive, but then again, they all are. That’s why they usually end up wasted.
The second he sees you, though, he abandons the game completely, and the smile on his face threatens to make your heart explode in your chest. Some of the guys turn around to look at you, give you a wave or a smile. Taehyung shouts a greeting.
“Hey,” Jungkook says, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips. He doesn’t like PDA all that much, but he never misses a chance to kiss you, and the thought makes you all giddy.
“Hey. Are you, um, having fun there?”
He shrugs.
“It’s not that bad. Wanna play?” He waits for your expression to turn to one of horror as you try to refuse politely before laughing. “Just kidding. Don’t worry about it.”
You let out a relieved breath. You know you and Jungkook are very different people, and you’re doing your best to take an interest in the things he likes. You’ve been learning the rules of basketball, for example, and though you still don’t believe you get the point, you like the way his eyes shine when you say something right about a game.
But you don’t take part in any of that stuff. Okay, you stop at that field that’s on your way home from the library every now and again, but that doesn’t count. It’s just you and him then, and you feel good and relaxed. You’ve even scored a couple of times now.
“Come on, I want to grab a drink,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, and you follow without protesting.
It’s probably your second mistake of the night: not realizing that getting a drink with and without Jungkook are two very different ordeals. On your way there, you get roped into several conversations. Those are fine. You can’t say you enjoy them, but they’re fine, and it’s not like those people are actually talking to you anyway.
What you genuinely dislike is that, when you’re by the table with the drinks, a girl starts openly flirting with your boyfriend. It’s not subtle, either, with the way she keeps touching his arm and how she laughs at his every word.
For a while, you just stare in disbelief. You know Jungkook is oblivious to that sort of things — probably one more reason why he likes how blunt you are — but you can’t believe her. You wouldn’t necessarily blame the girl for trying, either, if she didn’t know about you. Jungkook’s quite the catch after all, and you understand liking him better than anyone else.
No, it’s the fact that she’s doing it right in front of you, while Jungkook is holding your hand. It feels so— dismissive. So insulting. She’s not exactly saying to your face that she doesn’t take you seriously, but she might as well.
You watch incredulously when she puts her hand on his arm one more time. You don’t know how you’re supposed to handle that, so you just tug on Jungkook’s hand a little awkwardly. You’re pleased by how quickly his attention snaps to you, even while the girl is in the middle of her sentence. It’s a petty sentiment, for sure, but you can’t help it.
“Everything okay?” he asks. “Is it too loud in here?”
“Kind of, but—”
“Let’s find you a quieter place.”
He forgets about the drink he wanted to get, forgets about the girl, who he abandons there unceremoniously, gently pulling you through the room. Next thing you know, he’s carefully closing the doors of the closet he’s found for the two of you behind you.
“There,” he says, sounding satisfied with himself. “Better?”
You chuckle at that and, guessing for him in the half-light, you pull him towards you for a kiss. You press your body against his, pushing him against the back of the closet, and a groan forms in his throat. His hands tighten around you, sending shivers through your entire being, and you only lean into him more. You run your fingers over his chest, just to feel him tremble under your touch and he does, hissing with pleasure at the contact.
“Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth. “Was that— was that what you had in mind?”
You shake your head, and he’s close enough to feel it.
“That girl was flirting with you,” you tell him.
“Oh. Are you sure?”
You are.
“So… are you jealous? Because that’s kind of hot.”
You laugh softly. Truth is, you really, really don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend, but Jungkook actually sounds happy about the idea.
“You really didn’t notice?”
There’s a moment of silence.
“I didn’t. Does that— Did it bother you, that she was doing that?”
“Kind of,” you shrug. “What about you? You’re— cool with that?”
“If it bothers you I don’t like it,” he replies simply, one of his hand leaving your waist to grab yours and squeeze it gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”
That makes you chuckle.
“How didn’t you? She would have made it barely more obvious if she had started undressing herself.”
Jungkook has an awkward laugh, and you can feel his breath on your face. He starts fidgeting, but then you press a kiss right at the corner of his lips, and he calms down, if just a little.
“It’s— You have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”
“I won’t.”
He hesitates a second longer, as though he’s trying to judge your sincerity by looking at you — except, of course, he can barely see a thing in here. You kiss him again, following his jaw, and he finally gives in when you start making your way down his neck.
“When I’m with you, it’s like my vision narrows on you,” he says, voice low. “I know everything and everyone else is still there, but I just think about you. Sorry, it’s really stupid.”
“It’s not,” you say, shaking your head, wondering if he can feel your heart beating stupidly fast in your chest, all because his words make you feel like nothing else ever has before. “But I’m— I’m kind of boring. That can’t be fun.”
“You’re not boring,” he protests. “You listen to people, even when you don’t look like it. You always look like you have a thousand things on your mind but you always make time for your friends, and when you’re studying here, you play with your hair.” He twirls a lock of your hair around one of his fingers before releasing it, as if to demonstrate. “You’re a very, very interesting person to look at.”
The only thing you can do is stay there, frozen in his arms, after he’s said that. You may be blunt, but Jungkook is honest. Devastatingly so. His vulnerability always shatters the walls that you’ve built around yourself, and you still don’t know how to react when that happens.
So you push yourself on your tiptoes to kiss him again, except this time it’s slow and gentle and you’re trying to put everything he means to you into it. The tip of your fingers are on his cheeks, your mouth barely moving against his, soft noises filling the closet. Jungkook remains still, letting you in complete control, like he’s afraid he could break you if he moved.
“Thank you,” you whisper when you pull away from him.
“For what?” he asks, breathless.
“For being here with me tonight, and for coming with me at that first party.”
“Of course. Any time.”
He lets himself fall to the floor, taking you down with him and keeping you into his lap once he’s done that. You rest your head against his chest. You hear the noises of the party still going on outside, but Jungkook is your island of peace in the middle of the chaos.
“I think I’m going to stop basketball,” Jungkook blurts out without a warning, and you look at him, surprised.
“Really?” you ask.
“Yeah. Really. I just— I don’t want to be doing that anymore.”
You think about it for a few seconds, then nod.
“You probably should stop, in that case.”
“People are… not going to be happy about it.”
“I’m sure Taehyung won’t be mad at you. Well, not for too long.”
He laughs softly, but his hold on you doesn’t relax, and you know that this was hard for him to even consider. You know it’s a terrifying decision to take, too.
“Thank you,” he says. “For being here with me tonight, too.”
“Any time.”
The truth is, you wouldn’t give that moment away for anything in the world, and something tells you Jungkook wouldn’t either. It’s not ideal, it’s not perfect, but you don’t believe there is such a thing, and you’re happy to satisfy yourself with the imperfect.
But any moment you can spend in Jungkook is as close to perfect as can be.
“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, and you think that he might feels the same way, which almost makes you burst with happiness.
“And I love you,” you whisper back.
Not perfect, perhaps. But close enough.
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