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perpetually-jungshook · 7 years ago

Text

Goldilocks || 09

Rated T (language, violence, and suggestive content)

Warnings: abuse

Summary: After getting evicted, your two best friends Jimin and Taehyung offer you a place to stay until you get back on your feet. Needless to say, with a part time job and a mountain of student debt, that’s not happening any time soon. Eventually, they DO become really fond of having you around, helping with chores and even splitting rent. So when you come home one day to find someone has been sleeping in your couch-bed, well… it’s something you won’t take lightly.

Word Count: 4k

Out of context Goldilocks quote: “No offense, but what a bitch.”

Links to: Goldilocks Masterlist || Previous || Next Part

not my gif, credit to owner

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Part 9:

Taehyung kicks the door open so hard that it swings, hits the wall, swings back, and hits him in the arm.

“I’m hOOOOoooOOOoome,” he sings, throwing down his backpack to scoop up the first unfortunate soul that crosses his path and spin them around happily. This unfortunate person happens to be Jimin.

“Tae-hyung-let-me-go,” each of Jimin’s syllables are emphasized as the younger boy starts bouncing, arms tightening and cutting off Jimin’s air supply.

“No can do, brother,” Taehyung smiles, giving your mutual friend a visibly tight squeeze. “I’m celebrating and I need someone to hug.”

Your eyes narrow as you go through your checklist. Not his birthday. Not Christmas. And you aren’t really obligated to get him anything for other holidays so… you turn off the mental panic alarm.

“What are you celebrating?” you ask.

“I’ve decided to come to terms with our housemate.”

“Jungkook? Or Yoongi?”

“I’m not a housemate,” Yoongi calls from the kitchen. You want to tell him that he might as well realize that everyone that comes to this apartment has a history of staying, but you know arguing with Yoongi is like yelling at a wall.

Taehyung ignores him, “Neither! I’m talking about Poco.”

“Poco?” Jimin and you ask simultaneously.

“The spider. In the bathroom! I’ve decided to give it a name because naming something makes it less scary,” Taehyung replies, finally letting go of Jimin, who takes a few subtle steps back, breathing a sigh of relief.

“What if it already has a name?” you tease.

“Too bad~ I’m naming it Poco because I don’t speak spider-”

A thud and the sound of falling half empty shampoo, body wash, and conditioner bottles bounces down the hall, then a muffled, “Stupid fucking spider.”

All three of you freeze, attention pinned on the bathroom door as it opens, revealing Jungkook with dripping hair and a towel wrapped hastily around his waist. He looks pissed.

You cup your hands over your mouth, calling after him, “Yah, Jungkook. Afraid of our little arachnid buddy?”

“No, noona,” he pauses before going into Jimin’s room, tone cold and challenging. “It startled me and I killed it.”

The change in the room’s atmosphere is immediate and noticeable. A strange type of quiet settles over your ears like a blanket, which is weird simply because Taehyung is less than two meters away. You turn to look at him and your heart breaks. Eyes wide, lips parted, you’ve never seen a better portrayal of the expression “my puppy was just shot” than in that moment.

He races down the hall, pushing past Jungkook and skidding with a sharp turn into the bathroom. It only takes a whimper for you and Jimin to sprint after him. You find Taehyung on his knees, staring at the shower tile- no, a small speck on the shower tile. Poco.

Walking closer, you put a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and kneel down. Yup. That is definitely a squashed jumping spider.

Taehyung’s lower lip wobbles, “Rest in peace, Poco…”

“It’s okay, babe,” you say, rubbing circles into his back. “Poco lived a long, happy life.”

“No he didn’t. The internet says he was supposed to live for a year. We’ve only seen him for a like a month. He was still a baby.”

You continue rubbing his back as Taehyung sobs. You’re not sure who to feel more sorry for- Poco, your crying friend, or yourself and Jimin. Because you have no doubt that spider will have a fully fledged funeral today and you’ll have to sit through every minute of it.

Two hours later, Taehyung scoops a handful of dirt over the matchbox, which still would’ve seemed like a mansion sized house to poor tiny Poco. Your friend stands, wiping away tears with the back of his wrist. His voice is hoarse, “You will be remembered forever, little buddy.”

You glance over your shoulder at Yoongi, who had somehow been convinced to come to the service… in the planter next to the front door. Still, you never would’ve thought he’d come and all it had taken was a quiet “do you want to join us?” from Jimin.

So you, Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, and (surprisingly) Jungkook all gathered outside half an hour ago under an appropriately gloomy sky to celebrate the life of a tiny spider who lived in the bathroom. It was not the ideal way to spend a Thursday afternoon, but you would do anything to be a supportive friend. Also, on a completely unrelated note, Taehyung loves consolation sex. To other people, it might seem a bit disrespectful, but it’s one of Tae’s coping mechanisms and, as one of his best friends, aren’t you kind of obligated to make sure he’s okay?

“Nope, on your back. I’m not gonna be the one responsible for destroying your cervix or something,” Tae pauses mid action of taking off his black slacks to gesture vaguely at you.

“Does it even reach that far?” you tease, unzipping the back of your funeral appropriate black dress with a few ungraceful tugs.

Tae gasps dramatically, “Baby, are you calling my dick small?”

You shrug, “Well babe, it’s the only dick I’ve ever seen outside of a porn video. So… I don’t have much to compare it to.”

Taehyung arches an eyebrow, a lopsided, suggestive smile sliding onto his lips as he pushes down his pants and boxer briefs, grabbing himself by the base, “C’mon lil guy, let’s go show her how big you actually are.”

“Taehyung, are you talking to your penis?”

“Yes, now on your back. Dem tiddies ain’t gonna suck themselves.”

“Classy.”

“The classiest~”

“But really, isn’t missionary getting a little boring?” you ask, laughing, lying back to kick off your dress, leaving you in your bra and undies.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “This is like, the fourth time you’ve ever had sex, and you want to change it up already? Aish. I feel bad for your future boyfriend- or girlfriend.”

“What the fuck? Don’t talk about other people while you’re crawling over me naked.”

“Why?” his tone is teasing, “You afraid I’m gonna start talking about Jungkook?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me just fine. Jungkook,” Taehyung says the name like a child scandalously whispering a curse word. He giggles, “You two eye fuck each other all the time. And the best part is, you think no one notices.”

An angry heat flushes across your face, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Taehyung’s tongue pokes out for a second, wetting his lips as his index finger hooks in your panties. He pulls them down and flicks them off your ankles as he replies, sounding amused, “So you’re telling me that you have never, absolutely ever thought about him sticking his dick in you?”

“Nope.” Lie.

“Liar~”

You smack Taehyung’s upper arm, something that sounds like it hurts more than it actually does. He just laughs. He’s right though. The moment you saw Jungkook at that party, all you wanted to do was let that golden haired demon climb on top of you and pound you into the damn mattress. But then he’d walked in with lipstick smeared all over his stupidly perfect lips. He hadn’t thought twice about immediately forgetting you. (Huh. That’s a little redundant) In retaliation you slapped Jungkook, walked away, and made out with Taehyung in a corner.

But then he has the gall to show up at the apartment and fuck your best friend? And (in retaliation?) you lose your virginity to Taehyung.

You have a moment of clarity. You hate Jungkook not because of the way he makes you feel, but because of his blatant disregard for it. He challenges you, teases you, “eye fucks you” and yet he chooses to spend his time with some “random girl” and Jimin? How much of a dickhead can someone be-?

“Ah, do… you need me to leave?” Taehyung’s deep voice interrupts your train of thought.

“No. Why?”

“Your expression reads as either ‘I need to take a shit’ or ‘I’m thinking really hard’ and neither of those things really match well with sex- oh, unless you have a shit kink. Which I definitely do not. No sarcasm,” he shudders as if remembering something terrible. “Just… do you want me to go jerk off in the shower? Cuz I can do that if you need time to think.”

You want to say, “At least the spider isn’t there to scare you anymore,” but then you remember that you just had a half an hour funeral for it and Taehyung will probably start crying again. Oh well. Internal humor for the win.

“No, just hurry up I’m horny.”

Taehyung lets out a noise that’s half a sigh of relief, half laugh, “Good. Cuz I am too.”

“But you always are.”

“Truth.”

Day three of having Yoongi at the house and things couldn’t be any weirder. Well, they probably could be, but you stand firm in your opinion that things are pretty weird. You come home from school to find Jimin and Yoongi sitting in the living room, talking quietly, both of them appearing fairly relaxed and amused.

You greet them quickly, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, but Jimin stops you from walking down the hall with the simple words of warning, “Jungkook is home.”

“Thanks Chim,” you say with a tight smile before excusing yourself to go to Taehyung’s room.

It’s been made known that the walls are thin- thus it’s not difficult to accidentally listen in on their conversation. Granted, you may or may not have pressed your ear against the wall anyway, but that’s beside the point.

Jimin’s voice is understandably muffled, though you can clearly tell it’s soft, hesitant, “So what were you saying?”

“Oh, I…ah… I don’t remember. Must not have been important.”

“No, no. Mm, the restaurant? With the tea.”

“Yes, right,” Yoongi laughs lightly, sounding nervous. “So she walks out, leaving me with this bill that’s half a day’s paycheck.”

“No offense, but what a bitch.”

“You’re telling me.”

Pause.

After years of knowing him, you can discern the little nuances in his tones and you can tell Jimin’s next words are careful, “Why did you stay with her for that long then? If you clearly didn’t like her.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi sounds equal parts irritated and distressed, but also genuine and hurt. “I guess it was just nice having someone, yknow? Even if that someone isn’t… the right one. I think I wanted to love her.”

You had never heard anything like this from Yoongi. Ever. The Min Yoongi you know only has three default emotions: annoyed, mad, and bored. His sense of humor usually rises out of one of these three. But this? You want to be upset that he’s telling Jimin, someone he’s known for less than seventy two hours while you’ve known Yoongi for years, but you’re not actually upset. You’re happy he’s found someone he can trust with that uncharacteristically emotional information.

“Well, you seem like a nice guy,” Jimin laughs lightly. “I’m sure you’ll find the ‘right one’ very soon. I mean, you could meet her tomorrow.”

Yoongi chuckles, tone cynical, but also laced with soft undertones you’ve never heard from him before, “Or they could walk in making out with another dude.”

And then you hear the door open. Jimin’s bedroom door.

There's only one person it could be. Because you had essentially kicked him off the couch to make room for Yoongi, Jungkook had been staying in Jimin's room. Thus the logical conclusion is that the golden haired demon is walking down the hall, as you failed to hear him go into the bathroom.

It doesn't happen often, but your maternal instinct kicks in. Yoongi is finally opening up to someone, even if it isn't you, and you're not about to let Jingleshit ruin it.

With four steps, trampling over lord knows what underneath the layer of clothes carpeting the floor, you're flinging open Taehyung's door and yanking Jungkook inside by his wrist.

"What the hell?" He pulls away from you like you'd just spit on him.

"They're having a conversation I didn't want you interrupting," you explain bluntly.

"Cute," Jungkook rolls his eyes, "but I need a ride to my house again and because you aren't going to give it to me, I have to ask hyung-"

"Does it have to be now?"

"Yes."

You sigh, deciding to take one for the team, "Alright let's go."

Jungkook's original reply seems to catch in his throat as he stares at you, expression caught half way between confusion and a glare, "You. You're taking me?"

"Are you waiting for me to change my mind?" you scoff, pulling on one of Taehyung's sweaters and some socks.

Jungkook clears his throat, eyebrows knitting, gaze dropping, and blindsiding you with a quiet, “Thanks noona."

While subtle, there's a sincerity in his reply that makes your hate for him subside momentarily. It makes you remember that he's young, he's alone, and he's human.

“You’re welcome,” the words come out of your mouth with the same strange softness, considering the bane of your existence is in the room.

As quietly as possible, you and Jungkook make your way outside, letting Jimin and Yoongi continue talking uninterrupted. Man, the things you do for your friends.

For some reason, this car ride is a lot less tense than the first one. Jungkook gives you instructions, but bitterness and resentment is absent from his tone. You don’t make any provoking retorts.

You hate Jeon Jungkook.

There is no doubt about it. You hate him and you lust after him like nobody’s business (especially not yours). But he’s also not one hundred percent monster one hundred percent of the time and when he decides to grace you with this quiet, solemn persona, it’s (almost) easy to forget how terrible he is to you on other occasions and instead you almost… kind of… want to help him.

You pull to a stop in the parking lot beside the apartment complex, not noticing anything particularly out of the ordinary; yet Jungkook immediately goes rigid.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Instead of repeating the argument from last time, you merely follow his gaze to the car a few spaces away. Nope, no ringing bells or lighted bulbs.

Jungkook’s voice gets cold, distant, “Never mind. Let’s just go.”

“I did not drive fifteen minutes for you to tell me to turn around.”

“My dad’s home early, okay? I’m not going in there.”

“Why not?” you ask, starting to get frustrated, something that is clear in your tone.

Jungkook shifts in the passenger seat, pushing his golden hair back, “He kicked me out, remember?”

“I think he’ll understand if you just go inside and-”

“He won’t.”

For a few seconds, you consider taking his rude, lying ass back to the apartment, but something in his eyes stops you. Fear. It’s not even fear of disappointment or confrontation, but fear for his life.

Your next words surprise both of you, “What did you come here to get?”

“A textbook. Why?”

Your brain fights itself, but your reply doesn’t miss a beat, “I’m going to get it for you.”

He looks at you like you’d just slapped him instead of offering to do him a favor. It instantly makes you reconsider, but you’ve already verbally committed to it and who are you kidding? You kind of want to do this. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe you think it’ll make you better than him. Maybe you think it’ll settle the score for your “irrational” hatred and initial mistreatment of him. Or maybe you just want to help out a poor kid who’s afraid of going into his own house.

“Just tell me what it’s called,” you insist, turning off the engine and opening the car door.

Jungkook seems conflicted as well. He probably doesn’t want your help as a pride thing, simply because the probability he’s worried about your safety is very low. His answer is defensive and he refuses to look you directly in the eyes, “It’s a biology book. It’ll be on my desk on top of a stack. Don’t knock, the door will be open-”

You get out of the car, but Jungkook follows you, walking a step or two behind as he continues, “My room is the one at the end of the hall on the right. Don’t talk to anyone inside. Just… in and out as fast as possible.”

Once you get to the front of the apartment building, facing a locked door with a keypad, you turn to look at Jungkook expectantly.

He punches in four digits that you don’t care to memorize and opens the door.

“Third floor, 3C.”

Oh, he can’t even come to the apartment door with you? What a gentleman. You trudge up the two flights of stairs, relying heavily on the railing, the stairwell eerily quiet even as your footsteps echo off the concrete flooring. You find 3C easily.

You’re not sure whether you should be anxious about going inside, but what grudge could Jungkook’s father possibly hold against you? It’s not like you’d fucked some random dude on his bed. What if Jungkook is over exaggerating? That’s a possibility too. But you honestly trust his judgement enough to pull a “rather be safe than sorry” and avoid everyone in the house if possible. Because it’s not like you’d be chatting with Mr. Jeon if everyone was buddy-buddy either.

The door, as Jungkook promised, is unlocked. You walk right inside, repeating “down the hall to the right” internally. One step at a time. The distant sound of a television floats throughout the apartment, which smells like cabbage and vaguely of fish. Shoes, stacks of mail, and other garbage line the walls with no pictures, leaving a clear path on the dirty carpet just wide enough for you to walk unobstructed.

Down the hall, to the right.

You find the door and push it open. That scent. It’s different from the rest of the house and you recognize it immediately. Jungkook. His room obviously, logically would smell like him.

Next instructions: desk, stack of books, biology.

Jungkook’s room reminds you vaguely of Taehyung’s. There are a few pieces of clothing on the floor, posters on the wall, and the bed is unmade, but compared to the rest of the apartment, it’s surprisingly clean. You find the book easily, the big thing that could probably kill a man if dropped on his head, and you tuck it under your arm, intending on following the last instruction of “getting out as fast as possible.”

But then you hear a male voice. It comes from down the hall, but is loud enough to seem like it’s in the same room, “Who the hell is in my house?”

Oh. Had you closed the front door?

The golden haired demon’s words echo in your mind, “Don’t talk to anyone inside.”

Should you stay in his room? Wait it out? Or would the man who is presumably Mr. Jeon come looking? He sounds furious and you really don’t want to wait to find out what he’ll do. So you scramble quietly back into the short hallway, widened eyes searching for the exit… where Mr. Jeon is waiting for you. And then you recognize him. He’s the guy that got out of the car the last time you were here, the one that Jungkook freaked out about.

“Who the fuck are you?” he grimaces, looking you up and down.

Don’t engage.

“No one in particular. Just stopping by to pick up something for a friend.”

Jungkook isn’t your friend, but you don’t really know what else to say. You try to step around the man, but he matches your movement.

“You’re friends with that boy?” the malice in his tone cuts you for some reason. You can smell alcohol on his breath.

“No, not really,” you decide to tell the truth, managing to shoulder your way past and walk quickly out the door. For a moment, you think you’re free, but then you hear his footsteps as Mr. Jeon begins to follow you.

You almost trip over your own feet as you begin racing down the steps, frantically beating heart leaping into your throat. Logic says he probably won’t hurt you. He has no reason to. You haven’t done anything.

And then you feel him grab a fist full of your hair.

“You tell that boy he better come back here-”

You scream, a sound that makes your own ears ring. Instinctively, you also throw your arm backward, catching the man with both your elbow and the corner of the book. Pain is evident in the small “hng” sound that leaves his throat and he releases your hair, allowing you to continue sprinting down the stairs.

Panting, you throw yourself against the apartment complex main door and run face first into Jungkook. Pupils dilated as he stares at you like a deer in the headlights, he lets you slam into him. He probably heard you scream. What’s he doing? Why isn’t he running? Will his father even come all the way down here? Yes. The answer to the last question is yes.

Jungkook shoves you away from him, scrambling sideways, but it’s too late. His father’s fingers clamp around his arm, spinning him around just in time to deliver a sickeningly solid punch to Jungkook’s face.

The golden haired boy falls back, landing hard on his ass, hand pressed to his cheek and jaw.

His father looks even more furious, “You tell that fucking bitch she can shove it up her ass. I’m not signing anything.”

Signing? She? So many questions hurdle through your mind, but with the textbook clutched to your chest and Jungkook curling up in the fetal position, your curiosity can wait. Spiting on the sidewalk next to his son, Mr. Jeon backs away, then returns to the apartment complex.

Your knees feel like pudding, making kneeling down next to Jungkook a lot easier to stomach.

He hadn’t come to your rescue. He had run. Jungkook is not your savior. At least, you don’t consider him as such, but he had just taken a beating and you have to admit, no matter how many girls he had or hadn’t fucked on his parents’ bed… what would excuse such a violent reaction from his father?

You’re not dumb enough to ask if he’s okay. Knees tucked against his chest, arms raised as if to protect his head, Jungkook is trembling- no, he’s crying.

Unsure what else to do, you set the textbook on the sidewalk and reach out, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. Much to your surprise, but not unsurprisingly, Jungkook flinches.

“Yah, Kook,” your voice cracks, letting both him and you see right through the bluntness. “You need to get up.”

He doesn’t answer.

You sigh, at a loss for how to comfort him, “Jungkook, it’s just me, c’mon.”

Like that helps. He hates you. But you reach out again and this time he doesn’t move away. You rub circles into his back, only able to hope that this is soothing. He still doesn’t say anything.

“Let’s just get to the car,” you quiet your voice, softening it. “Let noona help you.”

At this, Jungkook oddly relaxes a little, allowing you to laboriously pull him to his feet. He seems unsteady though and you wrap your arms around him. Golden hair brushing against your face, warm tears dripping onto your shoulder and neck, that smell that’s just him surrounding you, Jungkook wraps his arms around your middle and turns what was supposed to be the human equivalent of a crutch into an embrace.

You are hugging Jeon Jungkook.

The thought seems foreign, repulsive even, but you don’t move away. You are hugging Jeon Jungkook and you hate him. But for some reason, this… is okay.

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