#cue toxic by Britney Spears | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starshapedkookie · 3 years ago

Text

Live Through This | 1

↳ if you live through this with me, I swear that I will die for you

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: ex-lovers to frenemies to lovers(?), band au, punk au, angst!!!!, smut

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol and drug use, mentions of heroin overdose, jungkook & oc are toxic! by britney spears (#freebritney) but really do lurve each other, minor smut in this part (fem. oral receiving + fingering), ANGST, jungkook got tats, piercings, & is lead guitar because... duh, also oc slaps jk one time but honestly it’s deserved lol

summary: A record deal. The one thing Violet needed to become the next big rockstars. As the front-woman to the band, life couldn’t have been any easier for you. That is until a devastating life event changes everything for you, leaving you heartbroken and in a downward spiral you can’t get out of. With your biggest competitor, Whailen 52 on your heels, your bandmates worried about the future, and your ex Jeon Jungkook being your only solace; you weren’t sure if you were going to live through this to see your dreams come to fruition.

word count: 22.5k

spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6U3lm7y9hCgpw1bzc6r5qu?si=201adb3f43364141

➪ welcome to part 1 of this beast i’ve been tackling for 2 months. part 2 will be out soon. please like & reblog, i’m nervous to post (it’s been a year!!! 🥺🥰) come chat with me after you’ve read! enjoy💜💟♍️

The first time you picked up a guitar singlehandedly changed your life. You were eight years old—a gift from your father on Christmas morning. You’re unsure what prompted your father to gift you the instrument at such a young age. He always told you he had begun playing around the same time when he was a child so perhaps that’s why. It came at much annoyance and protest from your mother. You were a loud, borderline unbearable child to begin with—throwing an instrument into the mix was a sure disaster. Your mother should have expected it though. With two musically gifted parents, it was bound to happen at some point. She would later tell you she would have just wanted you to make the decision for yourself. You roll your eyes at her now—oh how naive she was.

It was a Yamaha—your first guitar. Your father didn’t think you needed anything too fancy at such a young age. Looking back you realize how ridiculous that was, always cracking a laugh when you think about it. An 8 year old—with a Yamaha? It’s comical but it was perfect. Without that first Yamaha, you wouldn’t be standing here, right now, doing what you loved. Doing what your body craved.

“Tough crowd, huh?” Your bassist, Lisa remarks only to where you and your band could hear her. You shoot her a smirk before tending back to your guitar, ensuring that it’s in tune for the gig. You are currently strumming along your Fender aimlessly, waiting for your cue from the club owner towards the back.

It was lavender—a hue of the purple family that may have been too on the head for your band, but you didn’t care. It was the most recent gift from your father—your birthday a few months back. You would play this guitar until the strings broke. This was your first gig in nearly a month. You felt pressured—your absence was seen throughout the underground. For more reasons than one, you were perhaps the most talked about darling in your scene—you had people to impress. You couldn’t embarrass yourself like that. You wouldn’t embarrass your band like that—you wouldn’t embarrass him like that.

Lisa wasn’t wrong—the crowd which had already seen one band before you—didn’t seem too interested in what they had to play. Granted, they were playing weird renditions of 2000’s pop music which may not have been the best choice on their part. You by no means were a music snob, but growing up around your father being who he was, you considered your taste… elevated.

From the back of the club through the bright stage lights, you are given a thumbs up by the sound guys in the back. You glance back at your band; Lisa—the bassist, Hoseok—the drummer, and your lead guitarist—Park Jimin. They all give you a nod that they’re ready and you let out a heavy breath of nerves. You loved performing, you truly did, but the anxiety of it all never fully went away.

“Hey everyone,” you give a small smile into the microphone as some people whistle and catcall as you speak. “We’re Violet and we hope you enjoy the show… this first song is about shitty men doing shitty things to women.”

Some of the audience laughs, others continue to whistle and on a count of three by Hoseok’s kick drum, you begin strumming your first chords, Jimin helping you out in the back. It’s an easier song to play on guitar, but nonetheless one of the song’s that inspired your band in your early inception.

“And the sky was made of amethyst… and all the stars look just like little fish,” you breath in, focusing on your strumming, “You should learn when to go… you should learn how to say no!”

The rest of your band comes in, kicking off the fast pace which grabs the crowd instantly. You continue to sing the song loud but in control, making sure not to speed up your rhythmic sections—a bad habit you’ve only broken in the past couple years thanks to your father’s scoldings. The club begins to come alive at this point.

“And the sky was all violet… I want again but violent… more violent,” you inhale to catch your breath.

“Yeah I’m the one with no soul… one above and one below!” you bellow into the microphone, opening your eyes to look at the crowd briefly—

“Go on take everything, take everything, I want you to—“ you momentarily stop singing, listening to the crowed sing along, making you smile in return.

“And I told you from the start, just how this would end… when I get what I want and I never want it again—“

“Go on take everything, go on take everything, take everything, take everything!”

It’s moments like this when you realize how full circle you’ve come—listening to all the classic albums in your bedroom to now performing them on the cusp of a record deal. The last note and word to come out of your mouth somewhat drags on and out of breath, you step away from the microphone admiring as the club cheers and yells for your band. You give them all a smile muttering a brief thank you. The lights are bright and you step back to give your retinas a break.

You start your next song after a few moments, keeping the momentum of the club high. You and your whole band are starting to break sweat, but you wouldn’t change it for anything else. You hoped he was proud of you. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy and see you doing what you loved. In that moment, you promise to yourself that you wouldn’t miss another show. Not just for your band, but for him too.

Your band plays around 5 more songs—going from L7 to a rendition of one of your favorite Panic! At the Disco song. All your nerves had seemingly gone away by the end of the show, your body just running on a pure adrenaline high now.

“Thank you guys so much, we hope you enjoyed it,” you breathe out giving a one last wave to the crowd. The high you felt after a show was unmatched—and trust, you had plenty of experience to compare it too. The four of you quickly bow as one last thanks before heading off the stage to the small green room for the club.

“Killed it as always guys,” Jimin gives you a quick hug and you squirm underneath him, his back a little too sweaty for your taste.

“Ew, get off!” You push him away as you set your guitar back into the case, closing it shut promptly.

“You’re really gonna deny Park Jimin a hug over some sweat?” He retorts and you roll your eyes with a laugh before responding with a flat yes. Jimin ruffles your hair to which you give him a glare for.

“Lisa, Hobi—you grabbing drinks?” Jimin asks the two of them as everyone packs their things away.

“Yeah yeah, you comin’?” Hobi responds with a wide smile. He always had so much energy before, during, and after a show, you had no idea how he did it. You nicknamed him your ray of sunshine many moons ago. Hobi didn’t have to ask twice as Jimin trails behind them.

“Y/N, you coming?!” Jimin asks over the loud music that had resumed playing. As the last band to play, the club results back to playing normal bar music.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, but I’ll be right there!” You reassure your band mates and that’s exactly where you head. You don’t see Lisa’s concerned gaze as you turn away. Her eyes are sad and worried for you, unsure of where your head actually was.

You didn’t need to relieve yourself in anyway, you just wanted to freshen up from the show. Sweating and moving around the last 45 minutes on stage did not make you feel clean in any way. You powder your face some and reapply your lipstick—the red color being a signature for you—and straighten out your dress. As the only girl in the bathroom, you take it upon yourself to take in your appearance in one of the mirrors.

You clean up the edges of your lips, noticing how you merely don’t recognize the girl in the mirror. Unfortunately, your post-show high was coming down much quicker than you wanted, bringing you back to a much harsher reality than you wanted to face. Your eyes were somewhat dead, no longer possessing the usual confident gaze. You couldn’t remember the last time you got a full nights rest, staying up in the early hours in the morning, only sleeping whenever you physically couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. Your dreams were too painful. It was a weird method of keeping things under your control. The less you slept—the less you had to see his face in your slumber.

Once you take a few deep breaths and feel like you look much more presentable than just mere moments ago, you leave the restroom, squeezing through the crowd of people to the bar. You’re able to hear the ensemble of drunken compliments as you make your way there. You can’t help but smile at the praise—if there was one thing you knew you were good at, it was this.

Despite it all, before you are able to reach your bandmates, someone shoves you into a stranger, nearly tripping you and eating the ground of the dance floor.

“Oh fuck—I’m sorry!” you spill out quickly, realizing whoever you bumped into had caught you wiith strong arms. “Kai?” You pant out, feeling somewhat relieved that you fell into someone that you just so happened to know.

“Y/N, hey!” he gives you a small smile as he lets go of your frame once you’ve steadied yourself.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, glancing around your surroundings, seeing he seems to be by himself.

“A few of us heard you guys were playing tonight and wanted to come check it out,” he explains with his ever so charming smile. You had to admit, it was one your favorite feature of his. Without warning, another person bumps into you to which you send them a strong glare.

“C’mon over here?” Kai suggests and you nod quickly—you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks and you didn’t mind to leave your band at the bar for a few more minutes to catch up.

“Enjoy the show?” You ask him once the two of you are settled in an area of the small club where there wasn’t any risk of someone bumping into you anymore. It was still loud but more manageable for conversation.

“Always,” he says licking his lips briefly, “You guys gonna be playing in the band competition in a few weeks?”

“Of course,” you say confidently.

“Good,” he compliments with another smile. It’s this moment where you really take him in. He’s wearing simple blue jeans and a distressed tee, but he looks good enough to take right here and now. You and Kai knew each other in more ways than one—him being one of your most loyal suitors. With everything that has gone on in the past few weeks… you had not had time to focus on yourself much. However, talking to him now has all the sexual tension you’ve repressed brewing to the surface.

“What are the rest of your plans tonight?” He subsequently asks, noticing the way your eyes rake up and down his body quickly. He does the same to you.

You shrug, “I was just gonna hang out here with the rest of the band.”

He gives you a look you can’t exactly read before speaking again, “Some of the guys were gonna head to Yoongi’s apartment in a bit if you want to join?”

The mention of Min Yoongi has you hesitant to fully agree, but nonetheless, you’re always down for a good time. You’re also sure if you go, Kai will end up in your bed at the end of the night which is just what you wanted.

“Sure, sounds fun.”

____

Jungkook has a hard time with names. He’s pretty good with faces but when it comes to labeling those faces, he goes blank until he’s met them at least three times. With alcohol running through his blood, he couldn’t care less about the girl’s name who is straddling his lap, lacing his tongue’s with hers. She’s hot and has a great figure, his fingers clenching at the girl’s waist, pulling her center impossibly closer to his growing bulge in his tight jeans.

“Christ Jeon, can’t you get a fucking room?” Jungkook pulls away from the girl when Namjoon’s voice interrupts his business. A smirk spreads across Jungkook’s face before he stares up at the girl, her lips swollen and cheeks tinged with a pinky haze.

“Do you want another drink?” She nods excitedly at his question, standing up from his lap. He takes her hand that’s outstretched for him and he leads her towards the makeshift bar of Yoongi’s apartment. He greets some people who have just showed face but then his world suddenly stops when he sees an all too familiar frame walk into the main living room, hand in hand with Kai—some fucker of a friend of Yoongi’s.

You’re wearing a short black slip dress that’s most likely a lingerie set of yours, white converse highs, and a flannel over your shoulders, red lipstick painting your lips. You must have just come from a show. He knew your schtick all too well. You looked damn good and he hated to admit that with another girl trailing close behind him. He has to tear his eyes away from you, focusing on getting himself and this girl a drink.

“Jungkook!” Taehyung yells loudly from behind the “bar”—Taehyung likes to role play when he’s drunk, and tonight, he’s ‘bartender’. Jungkook laughs at his oldest friend before telling him to stir up some concoction of whatever liquor and mixer available.

“Gukkie,” the girl whispers into his ear, her breath sweeping against his exposed neck.

“Hm,” he mumbles, turning his head to her, their noses brushing ever so slightly.

“Let’s go back to yours,” she pouts with a set of irresistible puppy dog eyes.

“Soon, I promise,” he says. He’s yearning to get into her panties as much as she is, but he knows he should stay a bit longer. It might piss off some of his friends to dip another party so quickly again to fuck a girl.

“Here you go Jungkookie,” Taehyung hands Jungkook two drinks, Jungkook passing the second one to the girl. Fuck, he thinks, he really wishes he could remember her name. “Oh Y/N!”

The playful smile on Jungkook’s face soon disappears when Taehyung’s voice booms over the music. Jungkook turns his attention away from the random girl when he turns around to meet your frame. Your eyes immediately meet his, your heart dropping in your stomach. Eye contact is such a simple thing, but looking in Jeon Jungkook’s eyes was like looking into a whole new galaxy. His eyes sparkled and held so many secrets. You had yet to figure them all out.

“Hey guys,” you smile, breaking eye contact with Jungkook, looking over at Taehyung. You could tell Taehyung was drunk the way he was being loud and playful—usually he’s much more reserved.

“Hey,” Jungkook nods to you courteously. Taehyung hands you a random seltzer before you give Jungkook a nod in return.

You take notice of a girl hanging off Jungkook’s arm, paying close attention to the scene in front of her. You grimace, the girl barely even acknowledging you. Does she know who you are? Does she know your history with the man to her left?

“Jungkook, who’s this?” So many questions.

His face goes completely blank, licking his lips awkwardly, “Uh, this is… uh,” he coughs trying to diffuse the tension. The girl looks completely taken aback, an offended look crossing her features.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She spits bitterly, stepping away from him. “Fuck you. I’m Joy by the way,” she turns to you before she stomps away angrily.

You can’t help but laugh to yourself before shaking your head, getting ready to go back to Kai until Jungkook says something.

“Haven’t changed much I see?” He chuckles to himself, on the surface looking somewhat pissed or annoyed—maybe both, you couldn’t tell. It’s been a few weeks since Jungkook has seen or spoken to you. He did send condolences which you were thankful for. He did have a heart of gold; most of the time. He definitely wasn’t going to bring up anything personal right now—opting to keep the conversation cordial and lighthearted.

Your eyes narrow at him, “I could say the same to you. Fucking a random girl whose names you don’t even know,” you say obviously to which Taehyung snorts from behind the bar. You had almost forgotten he was there.

“You always know where to cut deep, don’t you?” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. He’s gotten it trimmed and dyed since the last time you’ve seen him. It had been a faded grey, terrible roots showing from all sides and much longer than it is now. He’s now got the ends of his hair dyed a dark blue and his roots back to his usual black, his eyebrow piercing hiding behind his fringe.

“Part of my charm I suppose,” you shrug, taking a sip from your drink.

“Indeed,” he says, mimicking your motion of taking a drink. “You had a gig tonight?” He asks, completely switching gears on the conversation.

You furrow your eyebrows, “Are you stalking my band now?”

He shakes his head while pursing his lips, “Your lipstick gives it away,” he chuckles slightly. You don’t say anything for a moment, crossing your arms over your chest. Sometimes you forget just how much you and Jungkook truly know about each other.

“Always observant Jeon,” you mutter.

“Are you guys playing in the competition in a few weeks?” He asks genuinely, tone laced with curiosity.

You lick your lips, glancing back to Taehyung who has completely forgotten about you and Jungkook. He’s speaking to some guy you’ve never seen before, waving his arms around exuberantly as he tells a story.

“If we were do you think I’d tell you?” You retort.

Jungkook laughs taking one more glance down your body, shifting on his feet, “Does it really matter if we’re both gonna be there?”

“Keep to yourself Jeon,” you breathe out, pushing a finger to his chest to push his proximity away from you, “Maybe you should go find Joy, you might be able to still get in her pants if you apologize enough,” you give him a wink before walking away from him.

Frenemies—that’s how you would describe Jeon Jungkook. The two of you had a long history that was complicated—fun—hateful—loving—toxic. Maybe it was the physical chemistry—his musicality—the fact he was also a guitar player? You couldn’t pinpoint it. It wasn’t long after that when you found yourself in a relationship with him. A 3 year endeavor that ended so painfully and so riddled with toxicity. You wanted to hate Jungkook for what he did to you and he wanted to hate you for what you did to him—but you simply couldn’t. Not only was your inner circle pretty much in the same scene forcing you to be pleasant in each other’s presence, but Jeon Jungkook was your twin flame no doubt. A twin flame that burned so bright and blew out unexpectedly. Here you were, almost 6 months after your breakup, finding yourself around each other more often than ever. Were you enemies? No. Were you friends? No. Nothing was black and white with your former lover and you weren’t sure you wanted it to be.

You steady your breath as you leave your heavy thoughts, trying to find Kai through the masses of people—Yoongi’s apartment wasn’t that small, but the masses of people here tonight was overwhelming. Even though the “underground” was the “underground”—it’s becoming more and more mainstream as bands like yours and Jungkook’s get more recognition.

You can feel Jungkook’s eyes following you until you’re sure he’s out of your sight, finally finding Kai talking to a girl you briefly recognize, but you can’t place a name on her.

“Y/N!” Kai smiles throwing an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his chest. “This is Nessa, you’ve probably seen her around?”

“Ah, yes I remember you were at a show a few weeks ago,” you smile to her.

“Yeah, you guys are amazing, you’re amazing,” she studies your frame and you give her a curious look. She then eyes Kai before biting her lip slightly.

“Thank you,” you smile flatly at her, “Kai do you wanna get a drink?” you ask him, trying to divert his attention away from her. He only gives you a glance shaking his head slightly. You inwardly roll your eyes, afraid that you may have lost your fuck for the night. So much for loyalty—and you even spoke so highly of him too! You excuse yourself with some shitty lie, unsure of where to go or who to talk to now.

Instead of going back to the bar, you wander aimlessly around the apartment, smiling and making small talk for those who come up to you. Years ago when you formed Violet, you couldn’t have imagined the recognition you’re getting now. Obviously you are no celebrity by any means—just a struggling college student with a somewhat successful band. It was still fair to say it was weird having people know who you and you were band. With the battle of the bands coming up, it only made things worse for you. As a child, you never understood fully what your father could have dealt with. Now, in your early 20’s, you were starting to learn.

“Hey Y/N,” Min Yoongi makes his first appearance to you tonight. The two of you exchange a short hug. He’s got silver hair that would be striking under the sun, but the dark atmosphere dims it to a faint grey. He’s never been one more tattoos, only carrying piercings on his lobes. You quickly ask him how he is, catching up briefly. You met Yoongi through Jungkook years ago and you two have always had a good friendship. Despite the bumps in the road, Yoongi was a good friend. Unfortunately he was subject to a lot of your drama with Jungkook, which you still apologize for to this day.

“Good good,” he nods curtly. “We’re about to smoke, wanna join?”

You’re about to protest but then you think about it, and honestly, you could use a nice high right now—numbing your pain had been your go to these past few weeks anyway.

“Sure,” you shrug, following your friend down a narrow hallway into a small bedroom. You’re sure this bedroom belongs to Kim Namjoon—the drum set in the corner giving that away.

“Look who it is,” you look to your right to find Namjoon seated in a chair, holding a fat blunt between his fingers. You wave to him taking in your surroundings promptly. Including you, there’s Namjoon, Yoongi, Jin and his girlfriend Sana, one of Yoongi’s other roommates, and Jungkook sitting around in a circle. You purposely avoid Jungkook’s eye contact, feeling it radiating from his direction. So much for trying to purge from him tonight.

Everyone passes the blunt around, taking one to two hits to get the high they desire. You’re sat between Yoongi and Sana, small talk amongst the group. You find yourself not saying much, sitting back to observe the scene—too much going through your mind to expend any extra energy. Jungkook does the same, keeping his lips sealed unless he is called upon.

Yoongi passes you the quickly fading stick and you quickly flick the lighter on to relight the green substance. You inhale deeply, only holding it in for a brief moment before you’re coughing the smoke out. You pass it Sana, trying to control your cough. Seokjin makes a snarky comment to you about it and you flip him off with a small laugh. You look around the room once again, your eyes meeting Jungkook. He’s chatting with Yoongi’s roommate and you chew on your bottom lip, your heart racing as you stare at his jawline.

Fucking hell, you curse to yourself, why did he have to look so good—all the time? Maybe it’s the high? Shut the fuck you you idiot, you scold yourself. Jungkook glances away for a moment before doing a double take, taking notice of your stare. You rip your eyes away from him, demeaned that he caught you in the act.

“Thanks Yoongi, I’m gonna get some air,” you whisper to him before standing up to leave the room. Everyone wishes you well before you find yourself wandering down the hallway, holding on to the wall for support. You are definitely high and you need a moment to yourself. Your heart rate has picked up and you lean against the wall, closing your eyes to steady yourself. You keep yourself in the shadows, hoping the loud music and other anomalies is enough to not draw attention to you.

You look at your phone to check the time; 12:56 PM. You should probably get home soon. Tomorrow is Sunday but you have lunch with your mom in approximately 12 hours. You’re pulling up your Uber app before you hear footsteps coming up to your left. You take a glance and see Jungkook coming down the hallway from Yoongi’s room. He instantly takes notice of you but he doesn’t say anything as he moves past you. Before you register what you’re doing—you reach out and grab his tattooed arm. He whips his head around as you pull him back to you, stumbling slightly.

“Hey,” he chuckles looking down at you. Jungkook is high too, but he eyes you closely to make sure you’re okay.

You let go of his arm, “Hi,” is all you can manage. If you couldn’t have Kai tonight, you always had a backup plan.

“Can I help you?” He mutters, his tone dark.

“Mhm,” you breathe out, looping one of your fingers through his belt loops. He steps forward without a protest, caging you in against the wall. “You going home?”

He nods slowly, his eyes studying your face intently, “You wanna ride with me?” He whispers so that only you can hear.

You glance around his frame, ensuring no one was eavesdropping on the two of you.

“I know something I can ride,” you’re bold with your words but it’s something Jungkook has always liked about you. You’re strong, determined, and you don’t sugar coat shit. It’s amazing how little the two of you have to speak to each other to fall into each other’s arms once again. A small chuckle escapes his lips before he speaks.

“Mmm, I’d like that,” is the last thing he says before he closes the small gap between you two. His lips fit so well against yours and they feel so new yet nostalgic at the same time. And maybe that’s why you keep him at an arms distance even after all this time. No matter how much he’s broken your heart—and how much you’ve broken his—you can’t say no to a twin flame.

_____

It’s 5:36 in the morning when you wake up from your slumber. It takes you a moment to realize you’re not in your bed but by the scent of the sheets, you know exactly where you are at. It’s still dark outside, making the room nearly pitch black. You can faintly make out faint sounds of some cars outside, the subway and buses running in the distance.

There is a stir of the sheets beside you and you know you need to get the fuck out of there. You glance over your shoulder to see Jungkook sleeping peacefully on his back, his hair pushed back off his forehead. Carefully, you lift the sheet up from your body as you sit up as quiet as you can. You manage to find all your articles of clothing, slipping them on quickly. You keep your eyes fixated on Jungkook the entire time, ready to sprint if he were to wake up. Shoes, panties, phone—you complete your mental checklist as you leave his room, shutting the door quietly behind you.

You leave Jungkook’s apartment deciding on taking the subway back to your place as that will be the fastest way home rather than walking. Your apartment honestly wasn’t too far, but the faster you got home and away from him—the better. As you settle into a subway seat, keeping your face low despite no one else inhabiting the car—all your emotions begin to spill out along with a set of fresh tears.

“Fuck,” you wiped your eyes ferociously. You really wished you would stop crying.

___ Jungkook remembers the first time he met you vividly—and he thinks about it far too often for his own good. It was his first year of college—yours too. A shitty old bar down the road from his shared apartment with his bandmates. A couple friends, Mark and Yugyeom, invited him and his accompanying band to the show. He had briefly heard of the new female-led band Violet growing in the area. There were plenty of bands up and coming, including the one he was in—he wasn’t sure what could be so special about this one. That wasn’t until he heard who the front-woman’s dad was.

“Her father is Krist Vedder?” Taehyung, the frontman of their band mouth dropped at this revelation. Jungkook was equally as shocked—the Krist Vedder? The famous Krist Vedder who has produced music from the Foo Fighters to Linkin Park. He wasn’t an actual celebrity by no means but if you were well versed with music, people knew who he was. Now Jungkook was more curious than ever to see this band—surely it had to be a little good if the front woman grew up in that household.

Once you stepped up on the stage with a white Squier Bullet Stratocaster, he almost let out a laugh, him and Taehyung somewhat skeptical considering your frame, but the crowd hyped you and the band before you even strummed one chord.

“Good evening, we’re Violet,” your voice was strong and confident. Jungkook watched you intently as your drummer gave the cue and then you were off. The first chord that came from your guitar was strong but melodic and he immediately picked up on the classic—Sex on Fire

Your voice was clear and commanding, confident with every lyric you sang. The bar immediately lights up as you get into the chorus. Jungkook finds himself singing along, mesmerized by your strumming and smile. That smile—all he could think was wow. Your drummer hit hard, the bassist—another female, had great melodies, and the lead guitar strum fast and clear despite his smaller frame.

A little good was an understatement—you guys fucking rocked. The set was already on the shorter side, but it ended all too quickly for Jungkook. The entire bar, even though it was small and crammed, cheered as you all walked off, clearly loving what they had just heard.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung says, bringing everyone back down to reality.

“Told you guys,” Mark raises his eyebrows, “They're great. Can you believe Y/N is only eighteen?” He comments.

“The front girl?” Jungkook inquires, realizing you’re the same age as him.

Yugyeom nods, “Yeah I met her in class last semester, she’s sick.”

“I mean her dad is Krist fucking Vedder,” Taehyung mentions once again seemingly in disbelief.

“Yeah yeah, don’t mention it too much—she doesn’t like it,” Yugyeom narrows his eyes at Taehyung. Jungkook takes a mental note.

A few minutes later after they all get some drinks and settle in for the next band to play, Yugyeom and Mark are greeting an unfamiliar group of people. It’s you and your band.

“Guys this is Hoseok, Jimin, Lisa, and Y/N,” Marl smiles widely as he introduces everyone.

“Taehyung,” he smiles shaking hands and giving a slight bow to everyone, “Kick ass show guys,” he comments.

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, his eyes locking directly with yours, “Jungkook,” he nods. The two of you find it hard to break eye contact until he does, glancing at the rest of the band.

“Wait, you guys are in Whailen 52 right?” Lisa, the bassist, pipes up a question.

Taehyung nods with a smile, “Yeah, in the flesh, although the other three couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Oh shit no way! I went to a couple of shows of you guys last semester,” your finally pop in, your red lips hard for Jungkook not to look at.

Whalien 52—Jungkook and Taehyung’s baby. Formed by them when they were only 12 and 14—abet the name Whalien 52 didn’t come until much later. Not only had they been a band for years, they were quickly becoming the most popular band in the scene.

The small group ended up to continuing chatting whilst the next band was still setting up their equipment to play. Jungkook sipped on his beer, letting the rest of the crew talk amongst themselves. He was there for the music. Although he couldn’t seem to stop glancing your direction every so often when he noticed that you too, seemed to not care much for small talk, ready to take in more music yourself.

You hair was thrown up messily in a ponytail, your gold hoops on display for everyone to see. You were wearing a black dress that was pretty fitted all over, exposing some cleavage tastefully, black tights that clearly had been worn too many times to count, and Doc Martens. Jungkook rips his eyes away from you when you glance his way, catching him in the act. He’s thankful it’s somewhat dark in the bar to hide the redness growing on his face.

“See something you like?” You raise an eyebrow at him, a playful smile growing on your face.

Jungkook, not expecting you to be so up front, gives you a chuckle before meeting your eyes again.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, ignoring your first comment. Unable to resist the dark haired cutie in front of you, you managed a nod and the two of you walked over to the bar together, Jungkook following closely behind you.

“Jungkook, you said?” You questioned as you quickly thanked him for the drink of your choice.

He nods, “And Y/N?”

You nod in response with a smile.

“You guys were great tonight,” he compliments and it brings a smile to your face, “You're a great guitar player.”

“Thanks, though I don’t do as much as Jimin,” you smile, looking down at the floor almost as if you were embarrassed of your talent.

He shrugs, “Every band needs both though, rhythm and lead.”

“You’re not too bad yourself from what I’ve seen,” you say. You had seen Jungkook’s band a few times and they were also damn good. Punk-rock was some of your favorite and they knew how to do it right.

He smiles, “We’re alright,” he shrugs, knowing that’s a lie. He’s only trying to humble himself to impress you. He knows they are fucking good. “How long have you guys been together?”

You ponder for a second, “Um, like end of high school, so just about a year. But Lisa and I have been playing together longer than that.”

Only a year?! Jungkook couldn’t believe that you guys already sounded so tight with such little time. I guess being Krist Vedder’s daughter comes with those perks of just instantly having your shit together.

“What about you?” You ask curiously. The more you spoke to Jungkook, the more handsome he appeared to be. Yes, he was cute—like a boyish cute with a boyish charm—but the way he looks at you says something different. Maybe it’s the piercing gaze he holds or the rings covering his fingers, something tells you he’s not as boyish as he wants to let on.

“Hyung and I formed it when we were like 12, 13? Something like that? But we didn’t properly fill out until early high school.”

Your eyes go wide,“Shit,” you laugh,“And you aren’t sick of playing with each other yet?”

Jungkook laughs with a shrug, “Somedays we want to kill each other, but we always work through it.”

You continue to sip on your drink, eager to see to see the next band. You didn’t just love playing music, you loved listening to it as well. If anything, that gave you the most inspiration for you and your band.

“Why’re you called Violet?” Jungkook asks, trying his best not to look down your dress.

“It’s my favorite color… duh,” you lick your lips, watching Jungkook’s eyes intensely. He stares down at you with a tension you could only describe as sexual. You had known him for approximately an hour, yet you felt like it had been years with how comfortable you felt with him. Jungkook was sure you felt it too, an electricity pulling you guys closer together. He’s had one drink, so it’s definitely not the alcohol making his head spin.

He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm before you open your mouth again, “I’m kidding… you know Hole?”

Jungkook tilts his head for a moment, before nodding slowly, “Of course.”

“Mmm,” you purse your lips, “My dad showed me Live Through This when I was like 11 and it fucking changed my life. That’s the day I knew I was gonna have my own band and name it Violet.”

With the mention of your dad, Jungkook sticks to what he heard earlier and decides not to elaborate on that aspect.

“That’s a great album for sure,” he nods, understanding you some now. So your father was Krist Vedder and you liked 90’s grunge. Was he dreaming?

“But isn’t Courtney like a terrible person?”

You narrow your eyes slightly, a small laugh emitting from your lips, “I separate the art from the artist… my dad always told me that was only fair.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook eyes you up and down once more before taking a sip of his beer.

You narrow your eyes at him before stepping towards him slightly, “But you know, Kurt also called Courtney the greatest fuck in the world on national television,” you raise an eyebrow at him as he meets your eyes, an obscene playfulness to your tone.

“Are you implying something?” He smirks, licking his lips with a laugh.

You bat your eyelashes at him for a moment and he swears he goes hard right then and there in his pants.

“Take that how you want,” you bite your lip as you cautiously rest your hand on his forearm. He takes this as his opportunity to step closer to you, his other hand pulling you in by your waist.

“Wanna tour of my apartment?” Jungkook gets out quickly and you let out a laugh, glancing over your shoulder unable to see the rest of your friends and bandmates.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you breathe out and before you can even finish your drink, Jungkook is dragging you out of the bar by your hand, the two of you desperate to get a taste of one another leaving any other worries behind.

“Earth to Jungkook,” Namjoon beats on his drum set to snap him out of his long reverie.

“What?” Jungkook snaps looking up from his guitar.

“Don’t worry he’s probably just thinking about whatever girl is going to get his dick wet later,” Jin, the band’s vibrant bassist snakily comments.

Jungkook flips him off, not even bothering to respond. Between juggling school, the gym, and band practice—Jungkook wasn’t there. Dozing off every ten minutes or so, bored with his tasks at hand. Maybe Min Yoongi was rubbing off on him too much these days?

“Thinking about Y/N more like it,” Namjoon comments and Jungkook shoots him daggers from where he’s seated with his guitar. “What? You really don’t think we’re stupid do you?”

Jungkook hunches over in his seat, ignoring their piercing stares.

“You’re still fucking her?” Jin raises an eyebrow at his youngest peer.

“Hyung!” Taehying shoots. Jungkook and Taehyung know each other the most and he knows exactly what will set Jungkook off—your name being one of them. Jungkook woke up this morning alone is his bed. He wasn’t surprised but he’s come to realize that he shouldn’t get his hopes up when it comes to you. He supposes that he’s lucky you’ll still let him fuck you so he’s taking whatever he can get.

“We all know it’s true,” Namjoon shrugs, twirling his drumsticks aimlessly around his fingers.

Once again, Jungkook ignores Namjoon’s comment, focusing on strumming a few opens chords on his acoustic guitar.

“Pussy whipped,” Jin sing songs, plucking some strings on his bass. Everyone seems to laugh but Jungkook and Yoongi.

“Fuck off guys,” Jungkook mutters leaning back into his chair, “Can we change the subject?” He pouts like a child. He hated when the guys poked into his life—whether you were the topic of conversation or a random girl he fucked after a gig—it wasn’t any of their business.

“Agreed,” Yoongi speaks up, eyeing Jungkook carefully. Jungkook knows how close you and Yoongi are which can make for some awkward moments. After all, he is the keyboardist for the band.

“What are we thinking for the competition? We still going to with setlist we have?” Jin asks.

“Actually Kook and I were thinking about changing some things,” Taehyung says, setting down his guitar beside him.

Namjoon furrows his eyebrows, “Changing what?” Namjoon is the type of guy who likes a plan, so when the plan is changed without him knowing about it, it makes the inner Virgo within him vexed.

“Well, we have a gig this weekend, we could test some things there,” Yoongi suggests and Taehyung nods agreeing with him. Once again, Jungkook has dazed off thinking about your body pressed against his. You were an enigma—always had been the entire time he had known you. Taehyung notices Jungkook out of it again before he curses at his friend. Goddamnit, he needed to get his shit together.

Band practice goes by relatively quickly. Everyone’s mood seems to shift upward once the band jams and practices some new songs and riffs. There was such an exciting feeling each time Jungkook strummed new chords on his guitar. Jungkook actually didn’t start his band career as a guitarist. The first instrument he ever played was the drums—getting his first toy set as a child which then turned into a real set at aged 10—obviously still small in scale to fit his small body. He started playing guitar about a year later and he realized that was his calling for music. He had the reputation of being good at everything he did but with guitar—it was so different. Perhaps it's why he was so attracted to you in the first place. Your love of the instrument coincided with his. It was a match made in heaven—perhaps hell now he looks back on it retrospectively.

After concluding a successful practice, Taehyung and Jungkook are the only ones left in their practice studio. The whole band pitched in to rent the small studio monthly since everyone lived in separate apartments these days—it was the only feasible way to get practice in.

Jungkook has packed all his things up, getting ready to head out the door before Taehyung’s deep voice stops him.

“Kook,” he says. Jungkook turns on his heel and meets eyes with Taehyung.

“What’s up?”

Taehyung scratches the back of his neck awkwardly before speaking, “What are you doing man?” Taehyung hated confrontation, especially with Jungkook, as they were practically brothers without the blood part. Knowing each other for so long—both of them could sense things about each other that no one else could.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you leaving with her last night,” Taehyung sighs heavily, “With Y/N.”

Jungkook’s blood runs ice cold, unable to come up with any response immediately.

“Why are you doing that to yourself Kook?” he asks with genuine concern.

A scoff comes from Jungkook’s mouth, “I don’t know what you’re on about,” he shakes his head lightly.

“C’mon you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Taehyung retorts, feeling some anger bubbling beneath his skin. If there was anyone who cared more for Jungkook than even his parents—it was Tae. And he could see how the thought of you was slowly eating away at Jungkook alive.

“She breaks up with you months ago and then suddenly wants to start fucking you again but refuses to get back together? Do you not see how fucked up—“

“Hyung, what’s between me and Y/N is only between us,” the younger interrupts.

“Man, you’re my fucking best friend,” Taehyung steps forward, unable to hide any of his deep rooted anger now, “You know I’ve always liked Y/N, you dating her or not, but what she’s doing is fucking dirty Jungkook and you know it.”

Taehyung’s words cut through Jungkook’s chest like a knife because he knows it’s true. The first night the two of you had hooked up after the messy breakup—seemed to be a happy accident. Jungkook had stumbled upon you at a bar for a mutual friend’s gig and before he knew it—he was fucking you from behind in the bathroom, making you come around his cock in 5 minutes. Ever since that night—you had seemingly always ended up where Jungkook was and you would go back to his place, Jungkook waking up alone each and every time. He knew that you had to be grieving and if someway somehow, he could help you—he wanted to do that—even if it broke his heart all over again every time he woke by himself.

“I just want you to be happy,” Taehyung says, “We’ve got too much good going for us right now, I don’t want someone taking advantage of you like that—“

“Don’t you think I took advantage of her enough? What’s a little on her part,” Jungkook somewhat laughs, his eyes dropping to his picked cuticles. Taehyung’s face softens. He knows practically every detail of yours and Jungkook’s relationship—a passionate affair riddled with jealously, miscommunications, and hurt on both sides.

“Kook,” Taehyung says with a deep sigh, “You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened between you two. She’s also in the wrong and not perfect—“

“But I still love her Tae,” Jungkook looks up angrily, “And that’s the fucking problem.”

Jungkook’s not lying—he’s still madly in love with you and all your flaws. And he didn’t know how to stop.

____

You’re only 12 minutes late meeting your mother for coffee and lunch. Once you got back to your place, you managed to sleep until nearly 11:30 AM, trying your best to shake off last night. You walk into the cafe spotting your mother sitting towards the back of the small restaurant. She’s got a coffee on the table, a mimosa in one hand as she scrolls through her phone with the other.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” you apologize as you pull out the chair across from her. She looks up at you waving your lateness off but knowing her, deep down your tardiness has actually agitated her.

“No worries,” she says taking in your somewhat disheveled appearance, “Late night?” She quirks an eyebrow at you.

“We had a show last night,” you explain, a yawn protruding from your mouth shortly after. She nods once before licking her lips after she sips on her mimosa. Her hair is fixed nicely, her nails always perfect, her silver jewelry always on point. She’s dressed in a what seems to be a navy pantsuit, a simple white top underneath the lapels and her favorite watch from your dad on her left wrist. She was such a contrast to your father—she was always put together wearing the nicest things money could buy. While your dad on the other hand was punk through and through, only dressing up for occasions that he absolutely had to dress up for.

“You wanted to meet?” You say after the waiter comes over and gets your order in. You stick with a simple latte, not feeling too hungry this morning.

“Yes,” she breathes watching her coffee as she stirs it without a care, the spoon clinking against the glass occasionally.

“Your father didn’t have a will. And now it’s our job to clean his mess up.”

You’re slightly taken aback by her statement. You refrain from saying anything you’ll regret.

“Well, that’s not surprising,” you say with a slight shake to your head.

“I always told him he needed to have one,” she speaks lowly, thinking out loud—a bad habit if hers. “Since you’re over eighteen, the courts have put you and I in charge of disbursing his assets.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “What? Why—“

“If we hand everything over to the courts, we’ll lose millions of your father’s estate. I’ve hired the best lawyers and they’re advising me to keep everything within personal parameters for now.”

The way she was talking over your father had you uneasy and on the edge of your seat. Talking about him like he wasn’t an actual person himself—her husband and your father. A disposable asset himself.

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it right now,” you tell her honestly. She narrows her eyes at you before she bends over to her left, pulling out a thick manila envelope. She slides it over to you and you stare at it blankly.

“You need to read all of this.”

“What?” You grab the envelope, noting how heavy it was just to be paper.

She nods once, “After you read it, we can make real plans about what to do with everything.”

“Mom—“ you pause, setting the envelope to the side, “When am I supposed to have time to do this? I’ve got school and the band—“

“Oh forget about that,” she says distastefully, “This is the priority right now and it needs to be done. I’m sick of looking at his shit.”

Your mother has always been opinionated—supposing that’s where you get it from yourself. But like your dad, you were the exact opposite of her. You were empathetic, understanding, musical, a free-spirit—a good listener. All the things she wasn’t. And you guess it’s moments like this where you realize how much you miss him.

“What’s with the attitude?” You ask after a few moments of silence.

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes, “You can’t tell me you’re not angry at him for doing this to us.”

You shake your head, “I wouldn’t say angry,” you defend, however you were getting somewhat angry at her the longer you sat here.

She laughs sarcastically, “You two are just alike,” she pauses, “Selfish, greedy—“

“Excuse me?” You fight back. You and your mom had your disagreements but this was another level of disrespectful. Not only to you—but to your father too. “I didn’t meet up with you to argue,” you shake your head, trying to level your head a bit.

“I’m not arguing Y/N. This has to be done, without or without you. And I like to know what’s best for you so please, don’t put this off.”

“I think I know what’s best for myself,” you fight back.

She chuckles again before she begins to gather her things around her, downing the last bit of her Sunday mimosa.

“Your father always said the same thing and look where that got him,” she pauses pushing herself out of the chair, “Dead, leaving us in goddamn turmoil. Read the papers and get back to me as soon as you can.”

She gives you one last glance before she slips on her sunglasses, leaving you alone in the cafe; stunned, confused, and in a worse mood than when you first walked in. What the actual fuck? Sure everyone deals with grief differently but seeing your own mother act in that way—completely invalidates your own feelings. Ever since the news broke, you feel like you’ve been drowning, unable to keep your head afloat, air slowly leaving your lungs.

Your father was everything to you—he made you into the woman you are today. He was your best friend and he was fucking gone. Everything you did was to make him happy and now he’s not even here to see you flourish into the person you’ve always wanted to be.

You stare down at your untouched coffee, feeling sick to your stomach thinking about the past few weeks. You look over at the manila envelope, unable to process that you are going to have to go through all of his stuff. You think you’re getting one step ahead but then there is always something that sends you two steps back.

The more you think about it, your mom was right—this was going to be a mess that could have huge legal repercussions. Of course your father didn’t have a will though—no one in their middle forties is expecting to die—at least you had always assumed.

You didn’t even believe the news when you first saw it. And to make matters worse—the news came to you from an article on your phone in the middle of you eating lunch with your fellow bandmates. You laughed, brushing it off as a silly rumor. You had just spoken to your father last night—he was fine! You ended up texting him, laughing about how idiotic and insensitive it was to make up an article like that. After a few minutes of him not responding, you waited another 5, 10, 15 minutes, waiting to hear back from him. To see that he read your message, holding down the picture to laugh in his reaction. Once that never came, you ended up all calling him—no answer. Your heart was now heavy, an unsettling feeling dropping down into your stomach. It was soon after when you received a call from your mother—panicked and shaken, that your life would never be the same ever again.

Apparently the housemaid back home had found your father slumped against the side of one of the guest bed frames. At first, she didn’t think anything of it until she tapped him on the shoulder, his body then completely falling over—a scream let out by her once she saw a needle and syringe sticking out from his arm, a bottle of dark liquor split everywhere.

Never once had you suspected your father to have a serious drug problem. The idea of him sitting there alone, injecting himself with a foreign substance—shattered you. It made you sick to your stomach. He was so perfect in your eyes and always being such a daddy’s girl, you never thought he would have crossed into such territory. He taught you everything you know about music, he made laugh until you cried, he was the shoulder you leaned on after your breakup with Jungkook—all that was now gone.

Your mother swears up and down that she had no idea. Maybe this is where your newfound resentment towards her is coming from. She was the one who knew him the most. She was the one who slept in the same bed with him when he wasn’t gone for business. She was the one who should have suspected something. Your mother may be mad at your father but if anything, you’re more infuriated with her.

You decide to drink your latte, not wanting it to go to waste. You tapped your foot nervously on the floor, an unsettling realization coming to you. You were lucky in many ways—talented, pretty, smart, passionate, had so many people around you at all times that said they loved you. Despite all that, these past few weeks have solidified how alone you undoubtedly were.

_____

Jungkook never really got nervous. He was confident in his abilities and his band. If anything, he got a little too cocky when it came to performance. Every girl ogles over him in their audiences and he relishes in it like a kid in a candy store. It also came with the availability of handpicking one out to take home later to fuck if he wanted.

Tonight he feels a little different. His hands are sweaty, his mind floating elsewhere. He stares down his tattoo sleeve, his eyes landing on one tattoo in particular. A violet. It makes his stomach churn. It’s a painful memory for him to think back to.

“Babe look!” You marvel excitedly. He comes over and stands behind you in the mirror, his eyes roaming your body and new tattoo. It had taken some convincing on Jungkook’s part for you to finally bite the bullet in getting your first tattoo. He smiles radiately, excited that you’ve done it.

“You like it?” His eyes are full of stars as he looks at your new ink. He can’t wait to get you alone, desperate to see your tattoo fully exposed in private.

“I loooove it,” you breathe out, “I can’t believe it didn’t hurt that bad.”

“I told you,” he places a kiss on your temple quickly before turning his attention back to the tattooer, “You should trust me more babe.”

“You next?” The tattooer looks at Jungkook and he nods excitedly before sitting down in the chair himself after he gets it sanitized. “What are we thinking today?” He asks as Jungkook shrugs off his flannel, exposing his tatted arm. Jungkook had started his sleeve only a couple months back but it was filling up quite quickly. You loved Jungkook’s tattoos not just for the aesthetic, but he truly seemed to become more confident with each addition, not caring what others thought.

“I’m thinking a flower, do you have any violets in your portfolio?” Jungkook says and your head quickly whips over to him. That sure wasn’t expected.

“Jungkook what are you doing?” You ask him in disbelief.

“What babe?” He turns his head to you, an amused grin on his lips, “Something wrong?”

“It’s just… I don’t know a violet, don’t you think that’s a little too…” you trail off unable to find the words. He gives you a sweet smile, eyes looking at you with complete adoration. He quickly leans in and gives you a small kiss which you gladly return but pull away quickly, not too keen on PDA in the tattoo shop.

“That’s the point,” he leans back in the chair watching the tattooer flip through his book of artwork before he lands on his flower section.

“We’re on in five minutes,” Taehyung walks into the small backstage room informing the band of their cue time. Namjoon whistles with excitement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited for a show,” he comments, drumming his sticks on a random wall trying to expend some of his excessive energy.

“Guk, how you feeling?” Yoongi inquires nudging his leg a little bit.

“Nervous honestly…” he pauses, picking at his thumb cuticle, “I think once we get out there, I’ll be settled.”

Yoongi nods, agreeing with the younger. He can tell Jungkook is going through something. Yoongi is a smart guy and he has a gut feeling that you have something to do with it. As much as Yoongi and you were friends, your behavior as of late as been very unpleasant to him. People in the scene talk and you were a fucking mess. Granted, given your situation, he understands that people grapple with death differently. At the most, Yoongi is just concerned that you are spiraling out of control and bringing Jungkook down with you unknowingly or not. And Jungkook being Jungkook—would fucking let you. Everyone can see how in love Jungkook still is with you—he’s blinded and isn’t making rational decisions himself.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook, you were with Lisa and Jimin in the crowd tonight. Hobi wanted to go see another friend’s band which was totally fine. Yes, you were the leader of Violet, but you didn’t consider yourself to be a control freak over your members. It was also good to scope out as many bands as possible for the competition in a few weeks.

“Shouldn’t we be watching a band who we haven’t seen?” Jimin says, a snarky attitude laced concealed in his tone. You loved Jimin, you really did, but he really disliked Whalien—Jungkook being the dominant reason. He didn’t see why you felt the need to stay friends with him and his bandmates. It irritated the fuck out of him but you being the leader of Violet, Jimin had to bite his tongue on certain issues.

“Jimin you know they’re gonna be our biggest competition,” Lisa nudges him. She was right. At this point, you were only concerned about Whalien 52 taking your precious record deal away. Not only was Jungkook a kick-ass guitar player, Taehyung had great vocals, Namjoon could hit the drums as hard as Dave Grohl, Jin was great on bass, and they had a keyboardist—Min Yoongi—an element that made them stand out heavily. There was always an unspoken rivalry between Violet and Whalien, even when you and Jungkook were dating. In an odd way, both bands started feeding off one another, seeing who could strum guitars faster and hit the drums harder, write more songs. Overall, just be a better band. This didn’t change after you and Jungkook decided to part ways, if anything, it made it worse. After all, your band was now the most talked about band in the underground, something that pissed Kim Namjoon off more than anyone else—whether he showed it or not.

Whalien 52 takes the stage to loud cheers and excited screams. As Jungkook expected, once he put his guitar over his shoulder, all his nerves seemed to disappear. Maybe it was the lights, the crowd, Taehyung sending him a reassuring gaze, or the pretty girl with a nice smile in the front—he was in his element. The club was one of the bigger venues they had played which sent an electricity through each member.

“Welcome, welcome,” he smiles, “We’re Whalien 52, thanks everyone for coming out tonight… we gotta great set for you all, right guys?” He turns around looking amusingly at his bandmates. Your eyes can’t help but watch Jungkook as he smiles out to the crowd, holding his black guitar firmly in his hands, strumming a few low open chords. He’s wearing light blue jeans for a change, still donning a black t-shirt, and a short sleeve button up thrown over his frame, exposing the astonishing number of tattoos that now cover his arm.

“Jungkook, you ready?” Taehyung muses to his friend to his right. Jungkook smirks before giving a quick nod and as a guitarist yourself, you can see him counting down in his head to start.

As soon as the first note comes from Jungkook’s guitar, the club erupts in a loud cheer. An all too familiar guitar riff fills the club and soon Namjoon comes in hitting the drums hard and fast, almost sounding like lightening cracking in the club. Then as if they weren’t just shaking the whole club, everything slows down as Taehyung begins to sing.

“One baby to another says I’m lucky to have met you,” Taehyung begins singing and you shake your head in disbelief.

“I don’t care what you think unless it is about me…it is now my duty to completely drain you—“

“Chew your meat for you, pass it back and forth, in a passionate kiss, from my mouth to yours… I …like… you!” Taehyung sings with charm, letting the crowd sing along with him. Jungkook sings backup vocals, his voice blending well with his hyung. Fucking hell. They had huge balls not to just play Nirvana but sound damn good doing it too.

The whole band smiles, Jungkook throwing his head back into a laugh. Jungkook plays his Fender with precision, Jin’s bass carrying the whole song through with power. Namjoon looks calm and collected behind his drum set, Yoongi chilling behind his keyboard, adding a new element to the song.

“With eyes so dilated I’ve become your pupil,” Taehyung bites his lip as he lets his rhythm guitar take over. “You taught me everything without a poison apple—“

God you loved this song. But right now right, you fucking hated it. One; because they were perfectly killing it and two; it happened to be one of your favorite Nirvana songs that you and Jungkook would listen to together—even having sex to it more than once. Fuck.

The chorus breaks again and the guitar solo comes in, Jungkook stepping up a little bit on stage, Taehyung’s rhythm guitar and Jin’s bass complimenting him. Jungkook looks sleek as hell as he plays the iconic chords, biting his lip in the process—everyone, particularly girls screaming as he sends a wink to someone in the audience. The smile on your face drops. It stings more than it should.

Jungkook’s guitar solo ends, Taehyung yelling into the microphone just like Kurt would, breaking back out into the chorus. Taehyung’s voice complimented Cobain’s voice so well. Both deep and raspy, kind of slurring the words all together—you can tell why they decided to play this song tonight.

“Chew your meat for you, pass it back and forth, in a passionate kiss, from my mouth to yours, sloppy lips to lips… you’re my vitamins, I… like… you…”

They end the song with Jungkook dragging out his last power chord, his forehead already breaking a sweat from the stage lights. You hated to admit how good he looked but the blue in his hair really complimented him. Fucking hell, you roll your eyes, you need another drink.

“Shit,” Jimin yells out, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

“They’re good,” Lisa remarks.

“They always have been,” you reply obviously, all of a sudden feeling too hot and too congested in the club. No one has stopped cheering and it’s deafening. They’ve always been good since you first crossed paths with them years ago, but their improvement was evident. You were suddenly worried about the competition and your capability as a musician. Jimin notices your change in demeanor, elbows you as Whalien takes a break to chat a few words to the crowd.

“Y/N?” he turns to you. You rip your eyes away from the stage to look at him, your gaze giving everything away, “You’re worried aren’t you? About the competition?”

Briefly, you hear Jungkook’s familiar laugh through a microphone and it weighs heavy on your chest as you find your words.

“Jimin—they’re good, really fucking good, I-I don’t—“

“Hey, stop that,” Jimin pulls you into his chest. “Listen, we’re amazing okay? You’re amazing, we wouldn’t even be in this position right now if it weren’t for you.”

You grimace into his chest. You had been friends with him for so long he always knew what to say to make you feel better. You were thankful for him but you could only push away your insecurities for so long. You didn’t want to disappoint your dad and right now, it felt like you were doing just that.

“Alright alright,” Taehyung says throwing down his water bottle, “We’re gonna switch up the pace a little bit, you guys good with that?” He turns to his bandmates. Kim Taehyung was naturally suave and as the front woman to your band, you understood where the attitude comes from. When people marvel at you like you’re a god, always telling you how talented you are—it brings you to another level.

Jungkook was finally in his groove after one song. He was mainly nervous to play the opening song because well… it’s Nirvana. With Nirvana lyrics tattooed down his arm, he always feels pressure when the band decides on playing their classics. Luckily, the chords aren’t that complicated and he felt on top of the world after getting through the guitar solo cleanly. He looks out into the audience, squinting to be able to see with the bright lights.

The smile on his face falls instantly when he locks eyes with you, settled towards the right-middle of the crowd. Park Jimin has an arm wrapped around you and he feels his jaw clench involuntarily. If there’s any one guy who he hates seeing you with—it’s him. For good reasons too. Ironic consider he’s your lead guitar, but he absolutely despises him.

“The world is a vampire,” Taehyung’s deep voice rings through the microphone—quite the contrast to the Billy Corgan himself, forcing Jungkook to look away from you to focus on the song at hand. The crowd instantly begins to sing the Smashing Pumpkin’s classic, interrupting any head thoughts for him.

You shift on your feet awkwardly, stepping away from Jimin some. Whalien’s show continues and it’s no less than stellar. You find yourself singing along to every song, dancing along with Lisa and Jimin, trying to let go of any inhibitions you were carrying at the moment. Jungkook doesn’t look your way the rest of the show. You couldn’t pin point why it was so painful to rip yourself away from him. Did you still love him? Was it just lust? You two had gone your separate ways as lovers months ago. Yet every time you saw him—which was definitely too much for your own good—you couldn’t say no. You had known him for years and had yet to rip yourself away from him.

They play a few more songs before ending with a rendition of a blink-182 song, the crowd clearly wanting more but club and bar owners are sticklers when it comes to time. Once you’re done, you have to get off as soon as possible if you want an invite back.

“Ah-ha,” Taehyung chuckles, “Sorry guys but we’re getting kicked out, hope to see you all again soon! Thank y’all so much!” The entire band gives one last wave and bow before they exit the stage. You, Lisa, and Jimin decide to head to the bar to get a drink before the next band comes on.

You’re sipping a drink when you feel your phone buzz in your other hand. You furrow your eyebrows when you see who the text is from.

[Jungkook 10:31 PM] What are you doing tonight

Jimin and Lisa are caught up in conversation with another mutual friend so you turn away from them to respond. Jungkook knows you’re here right now… so what does he want? The two of you barely text each other nowadays, only doing so when it’s convenient.

[You 10:32 PM] I’m having a drink right now

[You 10:32 PM] Why

It only takes him a few seconds to respond.

[Jungkook 10:32 PM] I wanna see you

You bite your lip in contemplation. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea—you were responding before you could second guess yourself.

[You 10:33 PM] Me too

[Jungkook 10:35 PM] Wanna come home with me? The guys are going to stay out but I’m not in the mood

You text a quick ‘sure’, turning your attention back to Lisa and Jimin.

“Guys I think I’m gonna call it an evening,” you breathe out. Jimin eyes you suspiciously but you ignore him, focusing on Lisa instead.

“Babe,” Lisa gives you a weird look, “I thought you wanted to see the next band?”

You shake your head, “I want to but I just remembered these papers my mom needs me to look over… about my dad’s stuff, it might take awhile—“

“Oh my god no, that’s fine, go,” Lisa nods, pulling you in for a departure hug.

“You okay?” Jimin asks once again as you give him a quick side hug, noticing the concern lacing his tone. If they knew the true reason you were departing—you were sure you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Yeah, yeah promise,” you give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

You make your way towards the exit, going to where Jungkook told you wait on him. A deep rooted guilt begins to settle in your stomach. You felt your emotions brewing to the surface, trying to wipe your sweaty hands along your skirt. You felt yourself slowly spiraling and wish nothing more than to be able to talk with your dad. You text Jungkook you’re outside to which he responds promptly that he’s coming. You knew he could make your pain go away, at least temporarily—or so you hoped.

___

Jungkook had you pressed up against a wall in his apartment, one hand dug deep in your scalp, the other holding one of your legs up close to his side as you pushed yourself closer to him. You kiss each other forcefully. It’s an affair of zealousness that you could only have with him. Everything about him was addicting. He smelt of clean and amber, his lips plump and pink, his hands large and calloused, his thighs that you fit so well on. Your fingers pull against the roots of his hair eliciting a deep groan from him.

He tugs back, moving your neck to the side as he begins to trail his lips down the flesh, nipping in all your sensitive places. He knew your body more than any other man and for that you were thankful. He trails his free hand from your hair down the side of your figure, rounding your ass with it before he boldly moves it to your scantily clad center. You were quite exposed wearing a skirt and a thong but if anything it excited Jungkook even further, giving him easy access as he begins to rub your clothed center.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you whisper breaking your kiss, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Wanna fuck you in this skirt,” He says rubbing his nose against yours, he moves your underwear over, slipping one finger inside you at once, halting your breath as your wetness allows him to do so with ease. “That feel good?”

You whine at his words, “Mhm,” your breathing picking up quickly, “Want you, right now.”

He smirks before placing a chaste kiss against your mouth, “But I don’t wanna come right now baby.”

You groan as he inserts another finger in you, curling them inside you as he begins to move in and out. The only sounds in his apartment are your lips moving against his, his fingers moving in and out of out at random, picking up and slowing down on his own time. Wanting to return some of his efforts, you begin to palm him through the front of his jeans, earning a small hiss from him. Jungkook’s lips leave yours as he begins to trail them down your neck and to your collarbone. He pulls out his fingers and your face scrunches up in disappointment until he gets down on his knees, pushing up the material of your skirt with his large hands.

He manages to pull down your underwear and you step out of the garment quickly, not caring where the flimsy fabric ended up. He begins to eat you out hungrily skipping any teasing around your thighs or pelvis, his lips and tongue working you just like how you like. You fist his hair, pushing his tongue deeper into you. His big nose rubbing your clit as he buries himself deep in you, a lewd moan leaving your lips.

“F-fuck,” you moan out as he begins to lick lightly at your clit, sending a chill down your body that you’re sure he felt.

“Feel good baby?” He mutters against your wet cunt, lapping at your opening and teasing your clit. “Am I the best you’ve ever had?”

His question is laced with amusement and genuine curiosity. You half laugh, throwing your head back against the wall as you feel a familiar bubbling sensation of an orgasm approaching.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you answer him after a moment, trying to steady and catch your breath all at once.

“Better than Jimin?” His question cuts the air like ice and any chances of an orgasm all goes away. You look down, bewildered him as he has stopped his actions. He’s looking up at you with dark eyes and you’re positive he’s not joking around in amusement. Your shoulders relax against the wall as he slowly stands up, keeping a few inches from your frame. You suddenly feel smaller than ever looking up at his frame, a newfound vulnerability in your stature.

“Where’d that come from?” You ask defensively, furrowing your eyebrows, tension growing in the small space exponentially.

He shrugs, “Just curious babe,” he steps away from you, turning his back to you walking away deeper into his apartment towards his small kitchen.

Your mouth falls open, unable to comprehend what the actual fuck is going on with him. Maybe it’s the small about of alcohol in your system or all your other emotions that you’ve put on the back burner, but something inside you feels like it’s going to implode.

“No,” you mutter, pushing yourself off against the wall, “No, no Jungkook you don’t get to do that,” you follow after him. He turns around, a wicked smirk crossing his features, an almost sinister laugh coming from deep within his chest.

“Because I cheated on you? That’s it huh?” he raises his voice some, stopping you in your place.

You bite your lip, unsure of what to say. He’s right—he cheated on you—a pain so strong when you found out, you thought someone had stolen all the air from your lungs. You couldn’t breathe as you laid in your bed for days sobbing into your pillow. Your heart was shattered into a million pieces. Jungkook had broken you. You thought there would have been no greater pain in your life. It wasn’t until your father passing away showed you something even worse.

“You’re seriously gonna bring this up, now?!” You fight back. “Jungkook, what the fuck?”

“Because I think I have a right to know why you keep fucking me and then leaving me out to dry,” he steps towards you and you feel a lump forming in your throat. Jungkook hated to admit—but Taehyung’s talk with him last week had been edging him all week with greed. Taehyung was fucking right—you were milking Jungkook for all it was worth and while Jungkook loved you—it wasn’t fair to him.

“I-,” you stop before you say something stupid, a response far from your reach, “That’s not fair,” is what you muster. It’s pathetic and you don’t even believe it.

He laughs, his eyes breaking from yours, “And this is fair to me? To you? You’re smart Y/N, I think you know exactly what you’re doing,” he spits angrily.

“Excuse me?” You hurl back flabbergasted, your anger spewing to the surface. “You literally don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jungkook tugs at the roots of hair, running his tongue through his cheek, “Using me when it’s convenient, fucking me when you want to get off, coming to my shows—all while knowing I’m still fucking in love with you—”

“Jungkook stop—“

“Just shut up for a second Y/N,” he interrupts you, stepping forward, “All this time has passed and I still can’t get over you—I don’t want to get over you—but this has to stop, it’s killing me when I see you self destructing this way—“

“I am not!” You push back. You and Jungkook had your fair share of fights over the years, but this is the first one in a while where you feel tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Because you know. You know everything he is saying is true. He’s reading you and your emotions like an open book.

“Everyone can see it Y/N but you,” he shakes his head, stepping forward, grabbing your wrists in the process, “I fucking love you Y/N and I want the best for you, but acting like this—isn’t it.”

You shake your head, looking down at his large hands wrapped around your wrists before you jerk them out of his grip, tears brimming to the surface. You blink rapidly, trying to hurtle them away.

“Well you fucking ruined that a long time ago,” your words cut through Jungkook’s heart like a razor sharp knife.

“I ruined it?” He retorts, “Yes, Y/N, I cheated on you and it’s the worst fucking mistake I’ve ever made in my life. I apologized on my fucking knees and we were working on our relationship,” he pauses, his voice somewhat breaking, “And then you had to go and fuck your bandmate behind my back— So don’t put all that blame on me Y/N, don’t you fucking do that. Imagine what your dad would say, seeing you like this! Just because he overdosed doesn’t give you and excuse to treat people like shit!”

As soon as Jungkook’s last sentence came out, he wished he could take them back in an instant. He watches your face fall and he knows he has said something he shouldn’t have. Jungkook’s words cut you deep into your tissue, your heart doing that weird aching thing it does when you are hurt beyond repair. The mention of your father fully sends you emotions into a deep spiral and it’s in that moment where the tears you had been holding back for so long start to fall from the ducts.

You can’t help your next actions as your hand comes in contact with his face, slapping him hard, his face whipping to the left. Your mouth parts, the repercussions of your actions settling in.

“Fuck! Oh my god Jungkook I’m sorry—“ Your hands fly to your face, trying to stop tears from coming out but you can’t help it.

“No, Y/N, please don’t,” Jungkook steps forward, wrapping his arms around you, completely forgoing your previous actions, “I’m s-sorry I shouldn’t—“

“Get the fuck off me,” you shove him away weakly but it does nothing for his strong grip. You fight against him but to no avail; he’s too strong and you’re simply too weak. You sob into his chest, your body falling limp into his arms.

“I hate you,” you say into his chest, regretting it instantly. That was easily the biggest lie you’ve ever told. You knew you loved him and always will. You hated how he made you feel sometimes. That’s it.

“Shut up,” he says, his own tears threatening to spill over into your hair. Jungkook knew your heart well. He knows how much of amazing person you were and how you deserved the world. You’ve always deserved the world and he couldn’t give that to you. It lead him to the worst decision he’s ever made. He lies at wake at night, unable to shake his regret. The hold you have on him is crippling and he would do anything to take it back.

However, he knows himself that he could only give and take so much from you. He knows you feel the same about him. It wasn’t until this point that he realized how much of a mess you two had made.

You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like this but exhaustion starts to set in your body and you want nothing more than to go to bed.

“Can I stay here tonight?” You ask into his chest. Again, an outsider looking in would nothing to say but what the actual fuck. And you find yourself saying the exact same thing. But you didn’t have to explain anything to anyone.

“Of course,” he says, looking down at your frame as you step away from him, your tears all dried up for now.

“I’m just gonna sleep on the couch,” you say, your mind clearly elsewhere as Jungkook stares into your eyes. It’s hard to keep his gaze, but you manage. You figure that sleeping in his bed with him wasn’t the best idea and at this point, we weren’t sure if he wanted you there anyway.

He nods without another word, gathering you some blankets and a pillow. You don’t protest when he gives you a t-shirt to sleep in, not wanting to sleep in your normal clothes. You and Jungkook stare at each other, your arms crossed in front of your chest, waiting for him to go to bed himself.

He steps towards you, his shoulder brushing yours, “I’m sorry Y/N. Goodnight.”

His voice was barely above a whisper but you heard him loud and clear. You mumble a goodnight yourself though you are positive he couldn’t hear because when you glance over your shoulder, he’s made his way back to his room. You slump your shoulders, getting in position to lay on his couch. Thankfully Jungkook lived alone so you didn’t have to worry about drunk roommates coming in to find you sleeping on his couch.

Your head falls against the pillow, looking out the window which was a nice view of the city. There was still plenty of ruckus going on outside but you had no energy to focus on anything else but trying to relax.

You were a goddamn mess. Your personal life was a wreck. Your life back home was a wreck. Your relationship with Jungkook was a wreck. You had dug yourself into a deep hole that you were afraid you weren’t going to get out of. You missed your dad so much. You wondered if he was watching over you but at the same time you hoped he wasn’t knowing how disappointed he would be with you right now. Maybe Jungkook was right—were you using his death an excuse to be an asshole? Or was it just normal grief?

You had no idea as you continued to get lost in your thoughts. You shift your body on the couch trying to find the most comfortable position on the couch but to no avail as your mind is refusing to let you rest. You look back over at the hallway that leads to Jungkook’s room. You close your eyes, debating the action for a moment. It doesn’t take you long to make up your mind. You push the blankets off your body, standing up and quietly walking over to Jungkook’s room. His door is cracked and you push it open as silent as you can.

You noticed Jungkook is still awake, resting on his back, the blue light from his phone lighting up his face slightly. He notices you come in, flicking his eyes to meet yours.

“Can I sleep in here?” You ask him in a whisper. Jungkook clicks off his phone, placing it on his nightstand. He doesn’t say anything as he moves the sheets over for you, signaling that he doesn’t mind. You climb into the familiar bed to Jungkook’s left, laying down comfortably.

“Thanks,” you tell him and he gives you a small smile. You fully lay down on your side, your back facing away from him.

It only takes a couple minutes before you feel Jungkook’s arm move around to your front, pulling you back to his chest. He entangles a leg through yours and you finally feel yourself to relax, your head emptying itself from all your worrying thoughts. You place your hand over Jungkook’s, lacing your fingers on top of his knuckles.

Fuck, you think dozing off to sleep.

Fuck, Jungkook thinks.

_____ “Jungkook—there’s bad news.”

Taehyung is dismayed over the phone—panicked and unruly as he speaks. Jungkook hasn’t been awake ten minutes. The last thing he expected was for Taehyung to be calling him this early, let alone upset.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Jungkook paces in his small kitchen, an unsettling feeling bubbling in his stomach.

“I think you should come to the studio as soon as you can,” he says and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Jesus Taehyung it’s not even ten,” he groans, trying to keep his voice as low as possible.

“Just get your ass here as soon as possible, I really don’t need your attitude today.”

Taehyung hangs up the phone, leaving Jungkook speechless. He stares at the device for a moment feeling no less than confused. Not only does he have an apparent crisis with Taehyung, he’s been thinking about his crisis with you all morning. For once, you hadn’t woken up at the crack of dawn and left him alone in his bed.

He was shocked when he woke up, your face nuzzled in his chest as he kept you warm. He thinks back to last night’s fight with you, knowing it was something you two would have to confront eventually. Both of you couldn’t keep hurting and loving each other all at once. He was hoping that could have been this morning but whatever emergency Taehyung is dealing with, settling the tension between him and you had to wait.

He enters his room quietly, walking slowly over to his bed bending at his knees to be face level with you. He hates to wake you up seeing how well you seem to be sleeping. His heart strings pulled for you and it hurt every time you had to leave.

He brings a hand up to your hair, pushing some of it off your forehead.

“Hm,” you suddenly say, startling him some.

“You awake?” He asks, watching your head nodding slowly. He felt a little better now knowing that you had apparently woken up on your own.

“Mhm,” you slowly open your eyes coming face to face with Jungkook. His features are soft but he looks exhausted. You’re sure you look the same to him.

“I hate to kick you out but Taehyung needs me, an emergency or something,” he shrugs, removing his hand from you.

“Is he okay?” You ask pushing yourself up on your hands, eyes watching Jungkook as he stands tall.

“I think, probably just being dramatic,” he laughs lightly, “I’ll take you home if you want?”

You stretch your back before nodding slowly, “If you wouldn’t care that’d be great.”

Jungkook leaves you to get dressed quickly. You fold his shirt up, placing it on the end of his bed, grabbing your phone in the same process. Your mind strays back to last night—your fight with Jungkook rushing back in every detail. You hated being this way with him. Getting along one minute, screaming at each other the next. It was an up and down battle with him but the last thing you wanted to do was lose him. Despite all the bullshit between you two, he was not only a staple part of your peers and scene you were surrounded by—but your life too. He was your first love and nothing was going to change that. You knew that fixing your relationship with Jungkook had to be a priority at some point. You couldn’t keep doing this yourself.

Jungkook drives you home in silence, neither one of you speaking to each other. It’s not awkward, but it’s not exactly comfortable either. He taps his steering wheel to the beat of the song coming through his speakers softly. You can’t remember the last time you had been in Jungkook’s car. Probably when you were still dating. You had always managed to wake up and sneak out taking the subway or lifts back home after nights with him. You suppose you had been too fatigued and slept well past your normal escapades.

He pulls up to your apartment complex, swinging in a parking spot close to your building.

“Listen Y/N,” he speaks breaking the silence, “About last night, I’m so sorry—“

“Jungkook don’t apologize,” you interrupt him. His eyes are soft and you can tell he’s overthinking everything about last night. You are too. “I’m sorry for slapping you, I d-don’t know what—“

“Forget that Y/N,” he shakes his head, “I think we should talk, I-I wanted to this morning but then hyung called and,” he pauses his short rambling, “Can I call you soon?” He finally settles.

Your stomach twists at the idea of confronting your demons with Jungkook, but you know it has to be done.

“Yeah, of course,” you nod, “We have a gig tonight but I’m free the rest of the week.”

He gives you a small smile, “Okay, sounds good. Good luck tonight.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and once you get into your apartment, you slump against your door knowing one thing—you have to get your shit together.

____

“Jungkook—where the fuck are you?” Taehyung spits as soon as he answers the phone.

“Hyung I’m pulling up right now, fuck off.” Jungkook hangs up on his friend as he parks his car quickly, heading up to their studio as fast as possible. Taehyung had been calling him non-stop every two minutes after he dropped you off at yours, annoying Jungkook to his upper limit.

Before Jungkook could even open the door to the studio, he heard loud bickering behind the door, causing him to stop in his tracks. He furrows his eyebrows, leaning in against it to see if he can make out any of the commotion. It all sounded like gibberish considering most of the room was as soundproof as possible. He swings open the door quickly, all eyes diverting over to him, everyone going silent.

“For fuck sakes,” Yoongi mutters under his breath.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks stepping closer to the boys. He looks around the room intently and it seems to get his answer once his eyes land on Namjoon. “Hyung, what the fuck?”

Namjoon sits on one of the couches, his head slightly down, his left wrist wrapped tightly in a white bandage, a sling across his chest too, his right hand wrapped around his palm, bruises scattered along his face.

“What happened?” Jungkook asks again, looking around at his bandmates who shake their head in shame? Annoyance? Anger? Whatever it was, it was creeping up Jungkook’s spine sending his jaw into a locked position.

“Namjoon got into a bar fight after you left last night,” Jin breaks the silence, unable to look at Namjoon.

“He jumped me dude!” Namjoon defends himself, wincing in pain as he reels his hands back in from flailing around too much. “What was I supposed to do? Let him kick my ass?!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so fucking drunk and egged him on,” Jin retorts back.

“Fuck you hyung,” Namjoon spits.

“I just don’t understand how you managed to strain your wrist and break the fucking bones in your hand,” Yoongi pinches in between his eyes, clearly fed up with the whole debacle. The band had been at each other’s throats all morning when they realized how bad Namjoon’s condition was—Jungkook completely oblivious to it all until now.

“Well how long are you gonna be out?” Jungkook interrupts the bickering, his face recognizing the slight panic that’s looming over their heads.

“Four to six weeks,” Namjoon mutters, leaning back against the couch, shaking his head to himself. Fuck.

“So… that means,” Jungkook looks over to Taehyung who has kept quiet since Jungkook walked in.

“We’re out of a goddamn drummer,” he says rubbing his temples.

“Jesus fuck,” Jungkook mutters, falling back into another couch in the room. He covers his eyes with his forearm, the light suddenly becoming too much for his sensitive eyes. So Namjoon got into a bar fight—injured himself to the point he can’t even wrap his hands around a set of drumsticks—right on the cusp of the most important gig to them as a band—leaving them with no drummer. A punk rock band with no drummer. Give me a fucking break, this couldn’t be happening, Jungkook says to himself.

“Fuck the record deal I guess,” Jungkook mutters talking aimlessly to himself.

“No, no, no,” Namjoon pipes up, “You guys are still fucking playing, I don’t care. We can’t let this stop—“

“This?! This is all your fucking fault!” Jungkook spits towards him. His whole youth all he ever wanted was an opportunity like this and here it was, being ripped out from underneath him like a blanket.

“Namjoon’s right though,” Yoongi interjects, “We still have to play—we’re three weeks out, we’re not going to let that record deal slip away to a band who doesn’t deserve it.”

Taehyung looks towards his oldest friend, Jungkook’s blue tips fading in last few weeks from many hair washings. Taehyung then looks at the others, wanting a nod of approval before opening his mouth.

“Jungkook we were thinking… you could… um, sit in at drums for the time being?” he lets the proposition into the air and Jungkook looks up at the rest of his bandmates. It hangs over Jungkook’s head heavily. Jungkook himself had actually thought about the idea but he couldn’t remember the last time he sat behind a drum set and took it seriously. Only 3 week left until the biggest moment of his musical career and he wasn’t even going to be able to show his talent in his true form behind his beloved Fender? But—what choice did he actually have?

Jungkook glances at his guitar propped up near his normal spot at their studio before he rips his eyes away, nodding his head slowly.

“Fine,” he says, “I can guess I can try.”

And try was all Whailen needed—or maybe something short of a miracle.

____

“Where do you want this?” Lisa’s voice rings through your shared apartment.

“What is it?” You yell back from the kitchen, scrubbing the countertop as best as you could. The two of you were in the process of deep cleaning your humble abode—a task you two did a couple times a month. Lisa was deranged when it came to keeping things clean and organized.

“It’s like a black shoe box,” she responds, shaking it around in her hands. Without any hesitation, you drop the sponge out of your palm, rushing over to where she stands. Lisa stands near the threshold of your room, curiously looking at the object.

“Give that to me,” you rip the object from her hands and she puts her hands up in defense.

“Whoa, sorry,” she apologizes, picking up on the way you look at the box fondly. Your heart dulling aches staring at the minuscule object. To anyone, it looks like an old beat up shoe box, but to you it had so many memories tucked away inside of it. There was no way in hell you could be rid of it.

“I-it’s fine,” you shake your head, “It’s just some stuff… from my dad.”

Lisa’s face falls slightly, subconsciously shrinking up in your presence. Anytime your dad was involved in any type of conversation these days, no one knew what version of you they were going to get. Some days it was like nothing had ever happened. Other days were emotional rollercoaster’s.

She notices the way your demeanor has altered, your face blank and your shoulders slumped. Being your best friend, she feels it’s okay to ask her next question.

“Y/N,” she pauses as you give her a glance, “You okay?” She realizes that she hasn’t asked you in a while nor have you really talked much about your dad. Granted, she didn’t expect you to but she wanted to make sure everything was fine for you.

You hold the shoe box close to you, your heart heavy as you think about your answer. You already know and simply put—you weren’t okay.

“Yeah,” you give her a grimace, “I’m fine.”

Lisa gives you a look you can’t entirely read. You’re positive she doesn’t believe you but she doesn’t press you any further. She does however bring up an unexpected topic as you enter your room, setting the box down on your desk.

“How’s Jungkook?”

You freeze up before easing off, not wanting to give away any vulnerabilities in your stance. You had not exactly told to her that you and Jungkook had been sleeping together on and off the past couple months. However Lisa wasn’t stupid—she’s seen you leave with him on multiple occasions—whether it be at a gig or house party.

“He’s fine,” you shrug, your eyes meeting hers trying to decipher if she has a motive bringing him up, or if she’s just genuinely curious.

“So are you two… like together again?” She leans against your doorframe, her arms crossing over her small frame.

You let out a quiet chuckle, “What does it matter to you?”

She furrows her eyebrows at you, clearly picking up on the vibe that you do not want to discuss any of this, but with your behavior the past few weeks—she wasn’t letting you off that easy.

“Y/N you’re one of my best friends,” she states, “It matters because I wanna know what the fuck you’re doing to yourself—he’s an asshole who cheated on you—“ “Yeah and I fucking cheated on him too,” you interrupt, letting out another snicker, “I think we’re even on the asshole spectrum.”

“Y/N,” she says again, as if she’s trying to drill it into your brain, “I understand you two ended with the intentions of still being somewhat friends, but do you really think sleeping with him is healthy?”

Lisa, like Jimin, never understood why you and Jungkook were so adamant on staying friends after such a hateful breakup—sure, your whole friend groups coincided in many ways—but if anything, being frenemy-fuck buddies has to be doing more harm than good.

“It’s not that simple Lisa,” you breathe out, staring down at your feet, feeling somewhat flustered. You weren’t one to be super open about your relationships—even when you and Jungkook were dating.

“No shit,” she says the obvious, “Why are you digging yourself in a hole you know you can’t get out of?”

You still refuse to look at her, but she notices the way you clench your jaw tightly, “What if I don’t want to get out of the hole,” you say it more of a statement than a question. You finally look up at Lisa, your expression blank and unreadable.

She slightly shakes her head, wanting so badly to hold her next words back, but your nonchalant attitude is more than pissing her off.

“Look Y/N,” she says, “If you want to keep fucking Jungkook—fucking get back together again—but.”

“But what?” You press.

“I don’t know what it’s like to lose a parent Y/N, but I don’t think you’re coping in a healthy way at all—I think you’ve run back to Jungkook because he’s familiar and you loved him at one point—“

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you interrupt her again. You felt yourself growing more irritated by the second—because you knew she was fucking right.

“I’m not saying I do!” She fights back, “But it’s not fair to you or Jungkook. You broke up with him for a reason, shouldn’t you just fucking move on?”

You narrow your eyes at her, not believing the words she’s saying to you. Who was she to tell you how to feel?

“Like I said,” you pause, “It’s not that goddamn simple Lisa.”

She rolls her eyes with a sarcastic laugh, “You’re so difficult sometimes. You’re a fucking mess and everyone knows it but you. I’m going for a walk,” she pushes herself away from you, leaving you alone in the apartment once you hear the door slam shut behind her.

“Fuck,” you wince, tossing yourself down on your bed. You feel more tears pricking behind your eyes and you try your best to push them away. Lisa had basically said the same thing as Jungkook the other night.

You felt attacked—defeated—unsure of your true feelings. Why were you so angry at everybody? Why you were so angry at yourself? Were you really acting that different?

When you notice the double picture frame on your nightstand—one side a picture of you and your dad, the other picture of you and Jungkook. You hadn’t had any will power to get rid of the second side. Two of the most important men that you had in your life—one of them now gone—the other left to clean up your messes.

You check the time on your phone and before you can stop yourself—you go to his contact, pressing the call button.

____

Jungkook was sat with one of his acoustic guitars when he receives a text about your arrival. It wasn’t late, but the sun had been gone for a while now. He had spent the majority of the last few days strictly practicing on the drums. He had good rhythm which was half the battle when drumming, but he forgot about physically exhausting it is compared to being on guitar. He needed a break and strumming his beloved instrument, it was giving him the catharsis he needed.

His gaze looks up when he watches you let yourself in, the door loud against the night. Jungkook had a small speaker playing some low music to fill the defining void of silence. He didn’t mind being here by himself, but he hated how quiet the soundproof studio got.

“Hey,” you walk towards Jungkook, curiously looking around the studio. You had never been here in particular. Whalien had practiced somewhere different when you and Jungkook were still dating. You assumed the ole lease ran up. The studio was quite big for a 5-piece, a couple couches lining around where their instruments sit. Speakers surrounding each corner, a nice carpet lining underneath everything. Jungkook had lit a few candles but they didn’t smell too strong—he was always sensitive to smells.

“Hey,” he greets, setting down his guitar beside him. He wasn’t expecting you to text him at all, especially at this time of the evening. You were dressed down, a large sweater and leggings covering your frame, hair thrown up messily with no makeup on. He thought you looked beautiful—you always looked beautiful to him. Unfortunately, that beauty was missing from where it mattered the most in your eyes.

“I um, got this for you,” you hold out a small cup of coffee, breaking the silence in the room.

He quirks an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at his lips, “It’s a little late for coffee don’t you think?”

“Just take it,” you push narrowing your gaze. He obliges, thanking you. “I’d figured if you were practicing this late, it would help,” you shrug explaining your kind gesture. “Where is everyone else?”

He takes a sip from the coffee, the warmness causing him to release a small sigh, “Just me here tonight, they all left a couple hours ago.”

“Oh,” you say simply, taking another look around the practice space again. You feel a little awkward standing, so you decide to sit down beside him on the couch, keeping a good distance between you.

“Thanks for letting me come,” you feel quite shy under his heavy gaze. His eyes were always your favorite feature of his but sometimes, he held them in an angle that was too harsh to hold.

“No problem, I’ve been meaning to reach out anyway,” he says, “You okay?” He asks, noticing the way your shoulders slump and your usual confidence nowhere to be seen.

You close your eyes for a second, letting out a shaky breath.

“No,” you manage to say. The heavy weight on your chest lifts some, though not fully. For the first time since your dad’s passing—you’ve admitted your true feelings. You weren’t okay and you needed help.

“Y/N..” He says with a low tone, setting down his coffee to scoot a little closer to you, worry crossing his delicate features. He’s dressed in sweats and a large sweatshirt, an outfit that was a big change to his usual aesthetic.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot,” you start, “About everything you said last weekend and—“

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow deeply before he shakes his head, “Y/N please don’t—I was being an asshole—“ “No Jungkook stop,” you take back the conversation, “I’ve been such a bitch to you, for no fucking reason and you’ve done nothing to me. Yes, you’ve done shitty things to me in the past but that doesn’t give me an excuse to do shitty things to you—“

“Y/N—“

“Jungkook please let me speak,” you interject him again and he nods once, allowing you to continue, “I-I’m just sorry okay? You were my best friend at one point and I,” you pause again, “I’m just sorry okay?”

Jungkook’s face softens, chewing on his soft lips as if he’s contemplating something.

“I don’t want you to apologize Y/N,” he says after a few moments of nothing. “I shouldn’t have brought up your dad, fuck I shouldn’t have said a lot of things—“

“Jungkook it’s okay—“

“But it’s not fucking okay,” he presses, shaking his head, “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through and having to sit by and watch you clearly not okay, pretending you are, it fucking sucks. It fucking sucks because it’s not my place anymore but you know I’ll always want the best for you.”

His words hit deep and you find yourself having to look away, tears threatening to spill over. You had been a mess ever since yours and Lisa’s argument earlier. You start to sob quietly, refusing to look at Jungkook as he suddenly shifts over to pull you close to him. His arms are vast around you as you cry into the thickness of his sweatshirt.

“I miss him,” your voice breaks off, “So much Jungkook.”

He holds you close, rubbing your back comfortingly, burying his face into the crook of the left side of your neck. You’re not in hysterics by any means, holding coherent sentences but clearly you’re upset.

“It feels like I’m in a crowded room screaming and no one fucking hears me,” you say into his chest, pulling yourself away from Jungkook some. His eyes look at you heavily, honestly unsure of what to say. Jungkook was one of the few people in your life who had actually known your dad from being with you. Another reason why it was so easy to fall into him when you felt lonely.

“Y/N,” he says and you look back up, holding his gaze which has softened significantly since you first walked in, “You know you can talk to me about anything. You have so many people who care about you, you don’t have to put on this persona that everything is okay when it’s clearly not.”

Your heart lurches at the thought. You knew Jungkook still loved you—and you weren’t sure if you had fully moved on either—but frankly, you hadn’t put too much thought into it the past couple months. When you are around him, he can make me you feel all kind of emotions on the spectrum—angry to lust to confusion to genuine happiness—all back to anger again. Right now, he was making you feel calm and controlled.

His body was warm around you so you take it to lean back some, heat rising on your chest. Jungkook rests his head on a hand supported by his elbow, looking at you intensely.

“How do you always know what to say,” your sentence comes out like a statement, a laugh almost behind your words.

Jungkook returns a small chuckle, “I don’t,” he answers, “I just know you better than I know myself.”

You glance down at the minimal space between yow two feeling somewhat shy at his statement. It’s amusing because you would say the same about him. His free hand rests near yours, and without thinking you grab it, noting something different about it.

“This is new?” He lets you inspect his right hand, turning his wrists with your smaller hands, noticing a new tattoo. Tiny lettering down the side of his inner wrist.

“Mhm,” he says as you try your best to read the writing. In the sun I feel as one, is what it reads. You immediately know where that stems from and you give him a small smile.

“Pretty,” you say while he aimlessly intertwines your fingers together. You let him without protest. The silence is loud between you two—the speaker Jungkook was listening from the only form of vibration in the room. You think it’s Cage the Elephant but you weren’t exactly sure, unable to make out any lyrics.

The longer you stare at Jungkook, the harder it is for you to sit still. He had yet to give up the grip on your hand, tension rising in the middle of you two. You bite your lip softly, thinking tentatively about your next move. You unlink your fingers, keeping eye contact with him as you maneuver yourself to straddle his lap, looking down at his frame from this angle. You weren’t wrong—yes, his tattoos were pretty but he was prettier.

Neither of you say anything, unsure of who closes the gap first. His lips are slightly chapped, probably from lack of sleep, but it doesn’t bother you in any way. You sigh heavily into the kiss as you move against his mouth. His tongue slips into your mouth, sending a shiver down your spine. Each time you kissed him, you knew he was your one and only which is why you hated what happened to you two. It wasn’t fair—he loved you and you loved him—why did you two have to go and do stupid things, fucking everything up?

“Jungkook,” you whisper as he kisses the side of your neck delicately, being careful to not leave any marks on your skin. His hands hold you in place by your waist firmly as he leans against your forehead.

“This is a bad idea,” he says breathily as you move your hips along his pelvis, feeling his cock hardening through his sweatpants.

“When have we ever had a good idea,” you laugh as he continues his gentle and small kisses, tongue poking out occasionally. You continue to grind along his hips, your breath hitching when his member catches across your clit.

“Fuck Y/N,” Jungkook pulls away from you quickly, “W-we shouldn’t do this.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, slumping against his frame, your hands resting on his shoulders. He adjusts you some so your forehead falls against his own, your breath uneven and shaky.

“You don’t want to?” You frown, never experiencing this type of rejection from him before.

“No, no, baby I want to—trust me I want to but,” he cuts himself off, “You’ve been upset and I don’t wanna seem like I’m taking advantage of you being vulnerable with me.”

“Jungkook it’s okay—“

He cuts you off with another short lived kiss, shaking his head again, “It’s too painful for me right now,” his tone not even a close to whisper, his voice breaking off at the end.

You look away from him, ashamed that you’re the one who has put him in this situation. He loved you like no one else ever has and you’re not sure you will ever find someone to match that love ever again. And you’ve come to the terrifying realization that you haven’t gotten over him—you haven’t moved on—and you’re still in love with him too. But clearly that wasn’t enough right now.

“I’m sorry Jungkook,” you shake your head, disappointed in yourself, “I’m so sorry.”

“Baby don’t apologize,” he says, squeezing your sides encouragingly, “I’m not mad at you or anything I just think we need to figure things out by ourselves for awhile…”

“Please don’t call me that,” you whisper as you push yourself off him to give you and him more space.

“Y/N,” he says stopping you from getting up from the couch by grabbing your hand, “Please don’t get mad. You know how much I love you all right? That’s not gonna change I promise you, I just want you to get through what you’re going through and then we can figure this out.”

He was right. He was always the more level headed of the two of you. You slowly nod, letting him know that you understand. Looking at the bigger picture, yours and Jungkook’s problems were clouding what you really should be focusing on—your band and the competition and then everything going on with your mother and father’s estate. You supposed once all that worked out, perhaps you and Jungkook could start at square one.

“I should head back soon, Lisa is probably wondering where I’m at,” you speak after a few more moments of quiet. Jungkook looks up and down your frame quickly before nodding.

“I can walk you out if you want?” He stands up following your move as you grab your bag from the floor.

“You’re still gonna stay? It’s getting pretty late,” you ask him just purely out of curiosity.

“Yeah I gotta keep practicing on the drums,” he runs a hand through his hair and you furrow your eyebrows at him.

“Drums?” You muse. Of course you knew Jungkook was multi-talented and could play the drums well. Why would he be practicing that over guitar with the competition so close though?

He had begun to walk you out of the studio and down the stairs to your car, the building was dark and quiet. You were thankful Jungkook offered to walk you, unsure if you would have felt comfortable to do so by yourself at this time of the night.

“Remember when hyung said he had an emergency last week?” He says and you nod quickly in response, “Well Namjoon hyung got into a drunken bar fight and long story short, he can’t drum now.”

Your face falls, taken aback by his words. “Wait—what?” You ask in disbelief, “What do you mean he can’t drum?”

His eyes find yours again, a yawn emitting from his lips, “Fucked up his hand and wrist—I love him but shit he’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Oh fuck,” you pause, “Are you still playing in the competition then?” He nods in response, another short yawn coming out. You eye him carefully and suddenly a realization hits you— “So… you’re drumming right now?”

“Yup,” he sighs heavily, “Can you tell?” He holds out his hands flat, rough calluses and a couple blisters lining the insides of his palms. A laugh emits from him as your mouth gapes open at the damage.

“Jesus Jungkook,” you marvel, your fingers running over his palms gently.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he shrugs aimlessly as you finally make it to your car, leaning against it for a moment.

“Damn.. I’m sorry, that’s genuinely awful timing.”

You are unsure what you would do if someone in Violet did something that stupid, leaving you down one instrument. It would cripple you. And as much as you feel bad for Jungkook, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit selfish, knowing that this would easily give Violet a leg up at the band competition.

“We’ll be fine,” he says. With battle of the bands less than 3 weeks away, you’re not sure he believes that himself. Namjoon out on drums—Jungkook filling in, leaving Whalien 52 without their full sound. Jungkook was good on drums you knew that—but you also knew that like you, guitar was where he excelled. You assume Taehyung was taking the lead guitar position leaving no rhythm guitar. As lead singer—that was going to be rough on Taehyung.

“Thanks for letting me come talk again,” you say opening the driver side door, throwing your bag across the middle console. “I feel a little better to be honest,” you cross your arms over your chest as you look up at him.

“Good,” he gives you a small smile, “Drive safe okay?”

You give him a small smile and before you can change your mind, your press yourself on your toes, kissing him once again. Nothing too passionate but needed to get your next point across—

“I love you Jungkook,” you whisper against his mouth as you pull away but your lips are smothered again as he pushes you against your car fully. The kiss is feverish, both of you desperate to hold onto each other a little longer.

He finally pulls away, almost ripping himself away from you with one final glance—“Goodnight Y/N.”

____

Your mother was angry with you. Angry to the point where she had yet to make eye contact with you as she waltz into your apartment—lawyer in tow. It wasn’t even noon and you were in the middle of finishing a paper for a class when you heard an unsettling pounding at your door. Lisa was quick to run to your room with a puzzled look on her face.

“My mom,” you muttered to her as you sauntered your way to the front door.

“Good to know you saw my text we were coming,” she says, looking around your apartment, observing every little detail for her to potentially nitpick. “This is Son Yejin,” she introduces the lawyer, who is strikingly beautiful though she looks intense and not up for bullshit.

“Nice to meet you miss Y/N,” she nods and you take notice of the thick briefcase at her side. You don’t say anything as they walk past you towards the small dining table sat in the corner of your kitchen. You really hoped Lisa took your word when you begged her to lock herself in her room and put in noise cancelling headphones. You had a bad feeling about this but your mother gave you no choice when she texted saying she was coming in 10 minutes.

“So I take it you haven’t looked over the papers I gave you a couple weeks back?” Your mother finally looks up at you, eyes puffy and wearing less makeup than usual. Still, she is dressed chic like herself, but her face says a much different story.

“I haven’t had time,” you lie smoothly, knowing full and well you shoved that damn manila envelope into a drawer in your desk, haven’t looking at it since. You understood it was important to sort out your father’s assets but at the same time, you felt sick at the thought of going through all his stuff. You couldn’t care less about his money or his valuables—none of that could replace losing your best friend.

“Cut the bullshit Y/N,” your mom’s lips are tight pressed into a line, “Sit down.” She motions towards the chair beside her. You drag your feet causing your sweatpants to drag against the floor. You sit at the chair across from her, the lawyer sat to your right, placing her in the middle. It felt almost symbolic as this random woman separates you two—an invisible wall has been placed between you since your dad passed and now that very wall has come to fruition.

You don’t say anything else as the lawyer and your mother begin to spread out papers on the table in front of you. She also opens up her laptop and begins explaining this process and why it was so important for you to cooperate. It all felt so redundant as your mother had been harping on you about it for weeks. Did she really think bringing in her lawyer would make you understand it more?

“You were your father’s primary beneficiary,” she begins, “That means you are entitled to whatever he left you and you are entitled to the right to do whatever you want with those assets.”

Your mother’s face remains relaxed though you can sense she’s studying your every move as your eyes lazily move across the legal documents that you barely understand or care about.

“Your mother is the contingent beneficiary, so whatever you don’t want—she gets.”

“I really don’t care about what he left me,” your voice is trembling, “Dad didn’t care about materialistic things, he wouldn’t like us doing this—“

“Well, he didn’t give us much of a choice did he?” Your mom says, narrowing her eyes at you.

A discomfort tunnels through your chest but it’s not as strong as the frustration boiling your blood. She spoke about your dad—her husband—like he was expendable. It was repulsive. You stay silent once again as the lawyer starts talking again. Hearing the tapping sound of your mother’s nails against the table sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not until your mother speaks again that catches your full attention back.

“Y/N listen to me,” she says slowly, “I know you don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this, but I can’t sit at home by myself with all this stuff and expect to be sane,” her own voice breaks off, signaling a distress you haven’t seen from her in weeks.

You hadn’t really thought of it like that. While at least you were here at your college apartment, your mother was alone in your childhood home that was destroyed of all its innocence when they found your deceased father. Perhaps you had been too selfish and resentful towards her to realize how much she was suffering too.

“I just,” you pause, looking down at your picked at nail polish, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do—I don’t know anything about his assets, how am I—“

“Y/N that’s why Yejin is here,” she reassures, with Yejin nodding in agreement.

“The courts aren’t expecting you to know what to do, but it’s important you are cooperative as possible. It’ll be smoother not just on your mother, but you as well.”

You begin to nod slowly, recognizing that this was something you couldn’t run from anymore. Yes, it was painful to remember every small detail about your father, but you and your mom was all you two had left. You shouldn’t spend the rest of your life resenting her for a problem that she had no knowledge about.

“I also found this a couple days ago… wanted to bring it to you in person,” she slides a thin envelope over to you, gaze soft and relaxed.

You grab the paper slowly, only breaking eye contact when you take the piece of paper from the inside that’s been folded into 3 parts. You open it slowly, your eyes quickly scanning the page and your heart immediately drops to the pit of your stomach. It’s a letter—written from your dad to you.

“W-where did you get this?” You ask shakily, your fingertips sweaty against the paper.

“It was in a safe in his closet when I was cleaning some stuff out. I only had the code myself in case of emergency situations,” she explains. She glances at the lawyer before speaking again, “We will be going now. I think you know what’s expected of you now.”

The two women stand up and you follow slowly, your hands still not letting go of the letter. Your mother comes closer to you and you can smell her perfume faintly.

“I know your dad wouldn’t like us doing this Y/N,” she pauses, fiddling with her sunglasses in her hands, “But he also wouldn’t like us fighting over it. You know that.”

She was right.

“I know how hard this has been on you sweetheart… he loved you more than anyone else in the world,” she lets out a breath that’s a bit shaky for her usual assertive self, “If you’re struggling you know he would want you to get the help you need, I want that for you, okay?

You had almost forgotten about the lawyer standing by your front door awkwardly until you glanced her way. You felt unstable in front of your mother, feeling unsure of how to respond. She hadn’t shown you this much empathy since he had passed. If anything, her empathy was just what you needed. It was comforting—despite everything—it was comforting.

You nod slowly, combating moisture in your eyes by blinking rapidly. Without a warning, your mother pulls you into an unexpected hug. Instinctually, you wrap your arms around her frame, your chin sitting on her shoulder comfortably.

“I haven’t said it enough,” she says in a whisper, “But I do love you. You’re just so much like him—it’s so hard for me because it’s like he’s here but he’s not.”

You feel a stray tear drop down your cheek, breath heavy and shaky, “I love you too mom.”

She pulls you into another tight hug as if to reassure her words. Your mother could be difficult to crack. She was a person who was very grey—not much was black or white with her. On most days, she reminded you of Jungkook. You had hoped from this point onward the indignation you had built towards her would fade. She was a grieving widow and you were a grieving daughter. She of course had a life with your dad long before you were even in it. She was trying her best to hold it together—much better than you had the past few weeks—she was trying.

You make it back into your room after they leave, letter heavy in hand. You shut the door to your room, back against the wood as you unfold the paper carefully. Your hands waver and you’re almost afraid you’ll rip it.

Sweet pea,

Know that I will always be here if you need me… even if I’m not here one day. I don’t have the answers to everything but if there’s one thing I want you to know; I am so proud of you and who you are becoming. Never stop playing and always do the right thing.

I love you more… and that’s for sure. Dad.

____

Whalien 52 was no less than t-totally fucked. Their first gig back with Jungkook on drums and Taehyung attempting to be lead guitar and sing had not gone as planned. In practice, they really had thought they were sounding pretty good and getting into the new rhythm. Being on a stage was a lot different from the usual practice studio They opted on playing some easier songs for Jungkook and Taehyung’s sake, but that came at the sacrifice of not practicing the songs they wanted to play for battle of the bands. The crowd—probably too drunk or high to actually notice any difference—still seemed to enjoy the show. That didn’t matter to any of the members though. It’s why when the member’s go backstage, it was inevitable for them to take their frustrations out on each other.

“I just don’t understand why you bailed halfway through the fucking solo,” Jungkook spit angrily as he threw himself on a small couch, chucking his drum sticks across the floor, barely missing Yoongi’s legs.

“Hey now,” Yoongi remarks giving the younger a harsh glare.

“It’s fucking hard Jungkook, that’s why,” Taehyung spits, “I’ve never had to play lead ever—“

“Other people have done it,” Jungkook mutters, his gaze falling on Namjoon as he waltz in the back room, a beer in his somewhat okay right hand—his other wrist in a brace now. The sight sends more anger through the members because they know if he hadn’t acted stupid they wouldn’t be in this position.

“Yeah well if you haven’t noticed Jungkook I’m not Jimi Hendrix or Kurt fucking Cobain am I?”

“Can we not fight here?” Yoongi mutters though he wasn’t sure if anyone heard him as the tension grows thicker between the band.

“Jungkook you completely messed up a couple sections though,” Jin points and Namjoon throws in an agreement.

“Fuck you guys,” the youngest swears.

“Don’t criticize Taehyung then if you can’t handle it yourself,” Namjoon says tipping back his beer.

“Fuck you the most hyung,” Jungkook says to Namjoon as he gets up angrily, looking over at Taehyung not bothering to say another word to anyone else, afraid he might continue to spill words that will only cause more issues.

“Both of you made mistakes tonight but that was going to happen,” Yoongi pauses, catching everyone’s attention from his corner of the room, “But I’m sorry guys, we don’t have a fucking chance if we can’t get a lead and let Taehyung have a break.” If no one was going to take Yoongi’s advice about not fighting here, then he was going to put in his two cents too.

“Yoongi’s right,” Jin says matter of factly.

The band was stumped. Everyone knew Taehyung needed some help on guitar but obviously Jungkook couldn’t leave the drums—what was a band without fucking drums? Every one of the guys drop the conversation, sitting there in silence battling their own mental frustrations. Jungkook sits forward, rubbing his face up into his hair trying to calm himself down. He was doing everything he could but he didn’t know what a solution could be for Whailen.

Faintly, another band begins to play in the background disturbing the uncomfortable silence. Yoongi observes the band intently before crossing his legs, opening his mouth.

“I mean, I have one idea,” he suddenly says, all eyes turning to him. “You are aren’t gonna like it though,” he laughs backhandedly, his eyes landing directly on Jungkook.

Creasing his eyebrows together, “What are you on about hyung?”

“I highly doubt she’ll agree,” Yoongi murmurs to himself, “Worth a shot right?”

Each Whailen member glances around at each other, wondering exactly what Min Yoongi is proposing. Min Yoongi was one of two things; he was either quite reckless with his decisions or he was quite the genius, coming up with the best of ideas. The band hoped the latter, but when the words come from his mouth—everyone straight away assumes he’s lost his goddamn mind.

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violetwolfraven · 3 years ago

Text

Willie Headcanons

So I actually came up with this like a month ago and forgot to post it. Anyway enjoy my headcanons about our favorite sk8er boi. Be ready for feels.

Tw: death, car accident mention, emotional manipulation.

...

In my mind, Willie had a good relationship with his parents. They were supportive and everything. They both loved Willie very much.

And Willie has youngest child energy so I’m saying he has a sister who’s 2 years older and a brother who’s 5 years older. Their names are Delilah and Austin.

AND ALL THREE OF THEM ARE ADRENALINE JUNKIES.

Seriously imagine the worst possible combination of head empty only skateboarding and you’ve got Willie, Delilah, and Austin.

Austin started skating when he was 7 and got Delilah hooked on it a year later.

Their parents kinda didn’t like the idea of it but those two had already started teaching Willie basic stuff by the time he was 3.

But... the other two had other interests. Delilah was into art (painting) and Austin played piano (like, really well).

For Willie, skateboarding was his thing. And it always was.

He had fun with it when his big brother would put his hands on his and teach him to play a bit, or his sister would give him some paint and a spare canvas and they’d doodle together, but it wasn’t like skating.

As far as I’ve seen (which admittedly isn’t that far) it’s widely accepted that Willie has ADHD so I’m leaning into that here.

And Willie inherited his brain from his dad, who had a bad experience with meds and so wouldn’t let any of his kids go through it.

So Willie grew up unmedicated but probably better off for the time period. His dad taught him coping mechanisms. Him and Austin. Delilah didn’t inherit it but she was taught to empathize with her brothers and recognize when they needed her help with something.

She’s a badass who can and does beat up anybody who’s mean to her brothers for missing social cues.

But anyway while Austin had piano (and skating as a side thing) Willie got even more hooked on skateboarding than either of his siblings because his brain latched onto it from a young age and couldn’t let go.

We all have our outlets. The chaos in our brains has to go somewhere. For Willie it goes into skating.

When he’s young he and his siblings will skateboard to school and then after school they’ll skate all around Hollywood for hours.

They do their homework in random McDonalds and Denny’s and tbh become local cryptid customers. Like they’re just these 3 super friendly skater siblings who tip really well and visit every fast food place within a 20 mile radius of their house with varying frequency.

They also find e v e r y skatepark, empty pool, and vacant lot in that 20 mile radius that they can possibly find.

Their parents have to bail them out of jail for trespassing and the occasional vandalism every so often.

Sometimes one of them has stuff to do and it’s just two of them out skating but if two of them are busy the other one never goes out alone cause it’s dangerous. We’ll get back to that later.

So anyway when they’re 17, 14, and 12, Delilah comes out as a lesbian.

And the family is supportive of course because they’re a good family.

But her coming out gets Willie thinking. About how some of his friends have crushes on girls but he just... doesn’t see the appeal.

Like he has a couple friends who are girls and they’re great and he likes hanging out with them at recess but he doesn’t get the hype. They’re just more friends. So he doesn’t really see what his big sister is so interested in either.

In my mind Willie actually is from around the same time as the boys (dying in like 1999) so one day while nobody else in their house is home he and Delilah are watching Star Wars: Return of the Jedi and Willie’s again wondering why people think Leia is so hot cause she’s cool and all but Luke is right there and he looks really good and—

Willie: I think I might be gay.

Delilah: Yeah I know.

They talk about it and Willie does decide to tell the rest of the family but he’s a bit wary about anyone else because he saw how some of Delilah’s friends turned on her after she came out. He doesn’t want that to happen to him.

He does end up telling a few of his friends but he doesn’t quite not care what people think of him the way his big sister does.

Austin is the only straight one and he’s like. So awkward about it but in a sweet way.

Austin: So, Britney Spears is hot, right?

Delilah: Stop.

And

Austin: So I saw you hanging around Chris the other day are you two..?

Willie: ...no...???

Austin: Cool, yeah I didn’t think so. Just had to make sure. Not that I’m doubting your ability to get boys but I’d have to shovel talk him if you were.

Willie: If I ever do get a boyfriend, please don’t.

He tries. He’s a himbo if that wasn’t clear. Where did you think Willie learned it?

So anyway fast forward a couple years and they’re 22, 19, and 17. Austin and Delilah are both in college and Willie’s the last one left at home and things between their parents start getting... tense.

Like they don’t fight exactly but they’ve fallen out of love and things are awkward.

Even Austin and Delilah can tell and they’re only home on breaks and some weekends but for Willie it’s right there and he’s watching it happen. He has no option but to see.

They used to have a rule that they don’t go skating alone because it’s dangerous but Willie just can’t make himself stay home so he goes out skateboarding.

At first it’s never too far from home or anywhere where there’s too much traffic but as things get increasingly awkward at home he goes out farther and farther, chasing the adrenaline high he used to get from going anywhere and everywhere every day after school with his siblings.

Then his parents officially tell him they’re getting divorced and

And it’s not like he couldn’t see it coming, but... it still hurts.

And neither of his siblings are coming home any time soon so

So he goes out skating on his own, way too far from home. He keeps going until he doesn’t even know where he is anymore.

He isn’t really paying attention the way he should but that’s not why he runs into trouble.

The driver of that red pickup is drunk and he rounds the corner out of nowhere.

If Delilah or Austin had been there they could have yelled for Willie to jump out of the way, or maybe up on the hood so the impact wouldn’t be as bad, but he’s alone.

So he gets hit, and the car was going fast enough that he’s dead before he even hits the pavement.

After that there’s a lot of confusion but once Willie figures out he’s a ghost... it’s too painful to think about going home, so he just... doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to see his family mourning him, so he just distracts himself, skating everywhere he couldn’t before without getting busted.

Plus some old routes where he used to go with Delilah and Austin, just for something that’s familiar but not too familiar.

He’s on one of those more familiar routes a few weeks after his death when he’s skating down Sunset Boulevard one night, singing along to Toxic by Britney Spears blasting from a nearby club and a man dressed in a purple suit comments on how he’s got a good voice.

Honestly Willie is just so relieved to have someone to talk to that he forgets about stranger danger completely.

Plus he recognizes an Elder Gay in Caleb and assumes he can trust him because the Elder Gays he met at pride that one time he went with Delilah were so nice and understanding of how reassuring it was to see queer people of older generations who got a happy ending.

Caleb barely even has to try. He just lets this 17-year-old obviously-queer ghost rant at him for a few minutes, asks a few questions and finds out that he also can play piano, and convinces him to come to the Hollywood Ghost Club the next night.

From there it’s not like Willie has anyone to save him so of course he has to join the club.

At first he’s completely alone because the other performers scare him almost as much as Caleb does.

Then slowly, he sees how they give him space because they know he’s scared of them. How they turn a blind eye when he leaves the club without permission. How they don’t critique his mistakes with the same sarcasm they show each other.

Willie starts to realize that the other performers are doing their best to look out for him, and he starts being less afraid.

They’re all too concerned with their own survival to really protect him but if they draw some attention to themselves occasionally so Caleb doesn’t notice Willie being slow to pick up some tricky choreography, that’s not too risky.

The others are all like 21 at the youngest and they really don’t appreciate Caleb tricking a literal child into working for him no matter how talented said child is. (Cause Willie is good at singing and piano. It’s just not his passion.)

The twins are 22 but they died in 1925 and before that they were performing to support a younger brother who they never got to say goodbye to so maybe they see Willie as a kind of second chance.

Lyssa (what I decided to name drummer woman because I don’t know her real name if she has one) is 25 and she died in 1984. She had a daughter who’d be about Willie’s age now and... who knows? Maybe they were friends.

Fuego is 24 and from 1951 and he had a childhood best friend who enlisted and died in WWII that he thought he might get to see when he died but that boy moved on and so... well, Willie’s just a little younger than his friend was the last time he saw him.

In short Willie becomes everyone’s baby brother and they do what they can to look out for him even if they’re just as scared of Caleb as he is.

And the better adjusted Willie gets to (after)life at the HGC and the better they get to know him, the guiltier the others start to feel about him being stuck there.

Eventually a combination of guilt and worked-up courage leads Fuego tells him about the whole unfinished business thing, in hopes maybe he can figure his out and get away from Caleb.

It doesn’t take Willie long to think of his family, how hopeless he felt about the divorce, how worried he was it would change everything and then how scared he was to see his family in pain because of his death.

He realizes his unfinished business is probably seeing them. Letting himself say goodbye.

He almost gets away with it.

Caleb catches up and stops him in the driveway of his house and poofs them back to the HGC.

He convinces (gaslights) Willie into believing that saying goodbye was never his unfinished business and even if it was it’s not like it would matter because Caleb wouldn’t let him do it.

The next morning he ships the HGC out to Tokyo. They stay on the move for a long time and when they are in town, Willie is basically locked in his room.

The next time he’s allowed out in Hollywood, his parents don’t live in their old house anymore and he has no way to find them.

As a coping mechanism, he just starts making the best of a bad situation. Becoming better friends with the other ghosts. Helping soften the blow whenever someone new comes along.

None of that means he stops checking the faces of passing skaters or keeping eyes on restaurants his folks used to like, but it does mean he more or less gives up hope.

That’s what he’s doing when he bumps into Alex.

Look, Willie loves his friends at the HGC. He really does. But there’s a big difference between 17 and 20-something. Like the others will drink alcohol some nights and technically Willie was born over 21 years ago but he still feels weird enough about it that he doesn’t drink.

He hasn’t talked to anyone his age in a long time so Alex is a breath of fresh air.

Also he’s like. Really cute. And sweet. And funny. And shit, Willie’s fallen for him before he even has time to think about it.

He keeps thinking about how Alex doesn’t seem like he’d be physically capable of hurting someone on purpose so Austin would approve and every once in a while there’s that sarcasm that pops out which means he’d get along great with Delilah.

In general Alex is the kind of guy he would’ve loved to take home to meet the family. Them not included, he’s kind of... everything Willie’s missed about Hollywood in the form of one person.

Then they hang out more and Alex is still everything he’s missed but he’s also so much more than that and...

It almost feels like a part of Alex is still alive. And for the first time in years, a part of Willie feels alive, too.

They’ve known each other for like a week tops and Willie is already in love.

Not that he’s admitting that to anyone, because he’s learned the hard way that anyone you care about can be used against you.

Still... when Alex asks for help getting revenge on Bobby, he can’t bring himself to say no because he needs to keep Alex in his (after)life and the only way he knows how to do that (or to make people be nice to him in general) is to be as useful as possible.

That turns out to be a big mistake, because Caleb sees right through him in an instant, targets Alex to confirm it, then immediately starts the process to trick the boys into committing to eternity at the HGC.

Willie feels like an idiot for thinking he could actually get away with it. Doing something good for someone he cares about.

He hadn’t thought Caleb would be interested in them because he’d never actually heard them play. The assumption was that he’d make them do some small favor and then let them talk to their bandmate for 5 minutes. A clean deal where they never have to commit to anything. Willie forgot to take magic into account.

He almost manages to convince himself it was all a bad dream, but when he seeks out Alex and his friends to check on them, he can almost feel the jolts himself, and seeing Alexthem in pain feels terrible.

Willie knows that theoretically they could figure out their unfinished business and cross over, but that all depends on finding it and doing it fast enough and if they failed...

People you care about can be used against you. And Willie does not want to be used against Alex again. He doesn’t want to see Alex used against him.

So he keeps his distance, in hopes Caleb will think he lost interest. He’s pretty sure once the boys find out about the stamp they’ll hate him, anyway.

And plus, as he’s been taught by his friends at the HGC, you have to look out for yourself because no one else will do it for you. Maybe you hurt somebody by not standing up for them, but you can apologize later and hope they forgive you. You can’t apologize if you’re gone, and it’s not like it would make a difference anyway because Caleb is too powerful for anyone to beat.

The thought of how spending eternity with Alex might not be so bad even if it has to be at the HGC does come up, but ironically that’s what makes Willie decide to screw his courage to the sticking point and tell them.

Because he has seen what decades at the club has done to his friends.

They’re all great performers, and they perform happiness well even to each other, but Willie knows them enough to know how tired they all are. How they have been doing the same thing over and over again for decades and they are sick of it.

They’re young, talented tragedies lost to drug overdoses, or AIDS, or accidents, or suicide, and they should’ve gotten to rest after everything they went through in their lives. Instead, they got a curse disguised as a blessing. They got to stay on a stage, got to keep performing and soaking up applause, never got to stop.

Willie has been there a shorter time than most of them and he feels it. The exhaustion, because ghosts are supposed to haunt for a few years then figure out their unfinished business and move on. They’re not meant to be trapped for decades, used as party tricks.

A part of Alex still feels alive and being trapped in the Hollywood Ghost Club for years on end would kill that part of him.

Willie can’t let that happen, so as hard as it is...

He tells the boys what’s wrong with them. And by that hurt, betrayed look in Alex’s eyes, he’s honestly expecting him to never forgive him.

But then Alex does. And that almost hurts worse because whether he figures out his unfinished business or not, Willie doubts he’s ever going to see him again.

He honest to God almost cries when Alex hugs him because... shit, he hasn’t gotten a hug since he was breathing.

He goes back to the HGC and tries to go about his day, and keeps replaying how good it felt to have Alex’s arms around him, hoping that memory will get him through the next few decades on his own.

The ghosts at the club do actually gossip a fair amount and by this point all of them know about the 3 dead members of Sunset Curve.

So when Willie admits to Helen (what I’m calling one of the twins) that Alex hugging him was the first time he’d gotten a hug since he died, she hugs him tight for a good 20 seconds, telling him she’s sorry he has to lose him, and if Willie closes his eyes he can almost pretend it’s Delilah.

The next thing he knows, he’s locked in a closet.

Caleb comes to talk to (intimidate) him a few hours later, saying he knows what Willie did.

He’s magically locked in his room alone for a couple weeks after that and it’s essentially psychological torture.

Helen, Anna (what I decided to call the other twin), Dante, Fuego, Lyssa, and everyone else tell him not to test Caleb for the next couple years, but Willie has a heart full of love and a head full of fuck it, so he doesn’t listen.

He gives it exactly one day of being/acting scared and obedient, then goes out without permission again, fully intending to scream in a museum alone to let out all his feelings.

Remember: Willie didn’t see the Orpheum performance. He doesn’t know the boys didn’t cross over but by Caleb’s mood he has a feeling the outcome of that scenario was not in the magician’s favor.

He gets there and it’s literally this comic by the very talented @williessweatycherrysocks

He can’t stay long but he and Alex scream in each other’s faces, talk a bit, maybe sing a duet.

After that, they sneak to see each other when they can but don’t get to see much of each other for months.

It’s hard on both of them but they don’t give up on their relationship.

Through long and complicated events which I will outline later, Willie eventually gets free of the HGC, hugs his friends goodbye already making plans to take down Caleb for good to free them, too, and promptly declines an offer to stay in the Molinas’ garage.

As much as he wants to be close to Alex he’s done being confined to one place.

He still comes and visits like every day tho.

He knows a lot more about ghosting than the other boys do so he and Carlos get along amazingly like:

Carlos: So do you know who Jack the Ripper was?

Willie: No? How old do you think I am?

Carlos: I dunno but I thought it might be Caleb cause that would explain how he never got caught.

Willie, taking notes in his Things To Potentially Use To Take Caleb Down notebook: You’re a tiny genius.

No one was expecting it but everyone is in awe of how well he and Carrie get along. Between the two of them they know so much celebrity gossip. (and it’s definitely a good thing he’s on good terms with her cause she and Alex are close)

On the angsty side, Willie also bonds with Nick over how they both know how it feels to be manipulated and used by Caleb.

Also it takes a long time before he’s able to trust him, but he does get adopted into the Molina clan by Ray.

Ray reminds him a lot of his own dad, once Willie’s able to see that he’s nothing like Caleb.

Ray’s honestly just 100% happy to Dad™️ anyone who needs a dad so it works out great once Julie and the boys figure out how to make Willie visible.

But anyway back to important stuff.

Now that they don’t have to hide for any reason, Willie and Alex can both breathe a little easier. Or... they both feel better. Ghosts don’t really breathe.

Willie can finally let himself get used to feeling alive again.

The whole ghost gang goes (invisibly) to the Los Feliz Homecoming dance and maybe it should make him feel a little on-edge with the kind of club-like environment but...

He’s got Alex there, and they’re dancing to some corny pop love song from the 90s that Flynn probably put on because she knew the ghost boys would be there so how could he feel anything but safe?

For a minute it almost feels like actually being alive and there’s yellow and pink and blue lights coming from everywhere reflecting in Alex’s eyes and Willie is suddenly very aware of the fact that though they’ve been together for a long time now, they haven’t had their first kiss.

Then the Cha Cha Slide starts up and the atmosphere switches and Willie totally forgets about the whole romantic tension thing because it’s the Cha Cha Slide everybody has to dance along.

Dirty Candi performs towards the end of the night and the ghost boys cheer the loudest despite how Julie’s laughing at them. They don’t care that Carrie can’t even hear them, they’re being supportive!!!

Everybody screams even louder when Flynn runs up on stage and kisses Carrie and Willie feels a big burst of affection at how Alex shouts ABOUT TIME!

Then he gives Willie a quick hug and leaves cause he and the rest of Julie and the Phantoms have to go get set up for their performance.

Since Alex was able to flip Carrie’s hair in All Eyes on Me I’m saying that ghosts can touch lifers if they focus and believe it will happen hard enough, so the ghost gang has developed a system for alerting their non-Julie lifer friends to their presence.

So while they’re waiting in the crowd Willie taps Carrie on the shoulder like: • - - one short tap, two long taps, a Morse code ‘W’ and Carrie lets Flynn know that he’s there.

(Nick can see him too but Nick’s off somewhere with his date {one of his lacrosse teammates you know the one})

Anyway so Julie goes out and starts up the song and then the rest of the band poofs in but

Something’s unusual.

Cause it’s not Luke on the lower main vocals.

It’s

Alex

Singing while he plays the drums and fucking killing it.

Willie totally bluescreens for a second but then when he actually focuses on the lyrics...

It’s a new song about beating the odds and being with the person you love in spite of the challenges that come with them.

And yeah there are Julie elements in there, (and she’s definitely making heart eyes at Luke even as he sticks to backup vocals) because of course there are since she has to start the song up, but

But Willie might not have any formal music training, but he was at the HGC long enough to know his stuff about music and recognize different artists’ styles.

And there’s a time signature switch on the bridge that’s a little off from how Luke would write it. There’s a swing to the melody that’s a bit more ‘pop’ than the band’s usual songs. Julie’s harmony doesn’t go as high as it normally would, as if whoever wrote the song didn’t have as high of an upper range to work with as she does.

The song is so unmistakably Alex that no one else could have written it.

Flynn and Carrie are quietly making smug comments on what they bet his face looks like right now but Willie’s not listening to them.

On the last chorus, Alex fucking winks at him right before poofing out.

Willie has whiplash like how did they go from him having to psych Alex up to break into a museum even when there’s zero chance of getting caught to Alex openly flirting with him from the stage?

He poofs backstage right as the boys get back from dropping their instruments back in the Molinas’ garage and he honestly doesn’t know what he even wants to say to convey how amazing that performance was.

Then Alex just smiles at him.

Alex: So I take it you liked the song?

Willie: Can I kiss you right now?

They both kinda freeze after he blurts that out and Reggie goes wow really quietly before he and Luke poof out to give them some privacy and whoops now they’re both flustered but

Alex: Wow, didn’t expect that. That’s... um, wow. But yeah.

They kiss and it’s a total romcom moment.

And the story’s far from over, but to Willie this definitely feels like happily ever after.

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