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sarahowritesostucky · 6 months ago

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📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 3983

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, kidnapping, cannibalism, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, ignoring of sexual boundaries, dub-con bordering on non-con, (mostly humorous) gore, (mostly humorous) body horror

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

9. Fat Marbled

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

Steve:

He realizes now, what it was about the way that Bucky always looked at him. Steve used to find it intimidating but heady, said that it made him feel wanted, vulnerable, made him feel very seen. “Nobody’s ever looked at me the way that you do,” he’d admitted to Bucky, privately enjoying it.

Now he knows what it was. Bucky was looking at him like prey. He was looking at him like food.

He still stares at Steve, mostly while Steve is eating. Bucky brings all of his meals down to the basement on plastic cafeteria trays. He feeds Steve well: high quality meals made from scratch, juice with breakfast, wine with dinner. Dessert. Steve can’t complain about the food.

But it’s how Bucky sits there and watches him eating it that really gets to Steve. He stares so raptly as Steve consumes what Bucky’s made for him, it’s almost like he gets off on it.

“Explain it to me then,” Steve says, after he’s called Bucky out on the behavior and asked him what’s up.

Bucky actually flushes and looks a little embarrassed. “I just like it,” he says.

"Eating," Steve says, deadpan.

“Seeing you consume something that you need. It’s ... carnal. It’s personal, intimate.”

Steve narrows his eyes and takes an aggressive bite out of his Reuben. “You’d better not be sneaking me mystery meats,” he warns, talking around his mouthful. “Bucky.”

“No, it’s not that,” Bucky says, sighing. “It’s just, I dunno. Seeing you take something I’ve made for you, seeing you accept it and … take it into yourself.” His gaze drifts off as he thinks about it. “Your mouth working, your expression as you taste it, savor it. Seeing the pleasure you get from the flavors, watching you swallow, when you lick your lips …”

Steve scowls, because that’s weird. Not that there aren’t plenty of ‘weird’ things about Bucky. “I don’t get it,” he says.

Bucky sighs and leans over to pluck a potato chip off Steve’s plate. He pops it into his mouth and crunches. “Why do some people have a thing for feet? Or leather? Or Balloons?”

"Balloons?" Steve echoes dryly.

"Yeah, it's a thing." Bucky shrugs. “Weird shit like that. It doesn’t make sense. It just is.”

“... So you’re saying it’s a fetish.”

“No. Not exactly.” Bucky huffs. “It’s just something I feel. I feel good when I watch you eat what I've given you. Why does it have to be complicated?”

“Well it doesn’t, but …” Steve scrutinizes him, suspicious. “Would you feel even more turned on if I was eating human in front of you?”

Bucky’s face goes tight and he looks away, not answering.

“Fuck.” Steve gapes at him. “You would. You totally would!”

“Well we’ve established that you’re a vegetarian, so why are you talking about it?” Bucky says testily. “Eat your sandwich.”

Steve scoffs but he does grab his sandwich back up, taking a huge bite and chewing it harshly on purpose. He swallows and sees Bucky’s eyes glued to his throat. “Fuck,” he says again. “You do. You get off on it.” He’s made Bucky uncomfortable. The other man almost looks ashamed, sitting there on the floor and avoiding Steve’s gaze. Steve’s made him feel bad about it. Something regretful twinges in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to kink shame you.”

Bucky’s eyes snap back up. “It’s not a kink,” he growls, getting to his feet. “Aren’t I just allowed to enjoy looking at you? You're supposed to be my boyfriend.” He snatches up the tray of food and leaves, shutting the cell door behind him.

"Hey!" Steve squawks. He hears Bucky stomping up the stairs, hears the beep of the keypad, the door opening and shutting, then nothing. Alone again, he pouts at having lost his lunch. “... I wasn’t done with that.”

Bucky:

“I need a shower.”

Bucky has just come into the room to collect Steve’s dinner tray. He pauses and sets the tray back down. He stares at Steve long and hard. “Are you gonna be good?”

Steve is quick to nod. “Yeah.” He’s sitting on his mattress, looking small and innocent, even has his hands folded in his lap.

And even though Bucky knows, logically, that the kid is probably thinking about ways to murder him 80% of the time, Steve’s small frame and timid behavior still sway him. He has feelings for Steve, after all. It’s killing him to keep him down here all deprived, no affection or attention. He misses his boyfriend. He wants things to go back to the way they were. But he also knows he can’t be too trusting, too soon.

“Okay,” he says, eyes narrowed on Steve for a long minute, but eventually softening. “Sorry,” he says, going over to unhook Steve’s cuff from the chain. “There isn’t a shower or anything down here.” He can’t risk it, with the women. There would be too many ways for them to try to hurt themselves. He’s got an area where he hoses them off and sanitizes their bodies, once he’s got them unconscious for surgery, but he sure as hell isn’t going to do that to Steve. “Carlo is putting a nicer bathroom in your new room,” he tells him. "It'll have everything you need."

Steve glances over at his current room’s prison issue combination toilet-sink. “Sweet,” he says.

Bucky’s unsure if he’s being sarcastic or not. He hooks Steve’s cuffs together and leads him into the hallway. He grabs him and steers him by the back of the neck. “Be good,” he warns again, and they make their way upstairs.

Steve’s eyes are flicking around, looking everywhere and taking in as much of his surroundings as he can. Bucky sees him eyeing the knife block in the kitchen, sees him clocking all the windows and doors. So he moves him along quickly, going back to the bedroom. At the doorway into the master bath, he pulls Steve back by the hips and whispers in his ear, “I know what you’re doing. Quit it.”

Steve shivers under his touch. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Bucky kisses his ear and gives him a nudge forward into the bathroom. “You’re scheming,” he says. “Think I can’t see that?”

Steve stays quiet. He isn’t facing him, so Bucky can’t see what his reaction is to being called out on it. But he bets Steve’s panicking a little in his head right now. This is the first time he’s been let out of his room, after all. Bucky starts the water warming in the shower and unlocks the restraints from his wrists. “These have to go back on, after,” he warns gently. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Steve turns for the shower, but Bucky stops him.

“Hang on. Let it warm up first.” He pulls Steve back against him, wraps one large arm around his waist and brings the other hand up to his neck. He searches out his artery with two fingers. Sure enough, his pulse is rapid. “Calm down,” he soothes. “Your heart’s beating so fast right now.”

Steve gulps, and Bucky feels that under his hand as well. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I’m nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about. Unless you’re planning to act up.” Bucky runs his lips over the shell of Steve’s ear. “Are you planning to act up?”

“N-no.” His breath hitches audibly when Bucky starts rubbing over his stomach, fingers dipping under his tee shirt to get at bare skin. “Bucky,” he breathes. “What are you doing?”

“You have to take your clothes off, if you’re gonna get a shower,” he murmurs. He feels Steve tense, and tuts at him. “I’ve seen you naked before, Honey.”

“I …” Steve’s throat clicks as he swallows. “I know. It’s just … it’s different now.”

“Why? Didn’t I tell you, Steve? I’m still me. You’re still you.” He kisses Steve’s ear as his hands migrate over his belly, up to his chest, back down over his ribcage. “I still know what you like. Still know what makes you feel good.” Steve whines and Bucky gives him an affectionate squeeze at the waist. “I miss touching you,” he admits. “Don’t you miss it?” Steve shivers in his arms, not saying yes but not pulling away either. Bucky knows he must be terribly conflicted, so he reassures him, “It’s gonna be okay, Stevie. I promise.”

Steve doesn’t speak. He shirks away from the next kiss Bucky tries to place on him. That stings, but Bucky tries not to be too disappointed. He knows there’s damage to repair. So with a sigh he releases him and takes a step back to give him space. “Go ahead. There’s shampoo and stuff on the shelf.”

“But, aren’t you gonna ...”

“I’m staying right here,” Bucky says firmly. “Can’t leave you alone, Steve.”

Steve’s face pinks up but he nods. He isn’t meeting Bucky’s eyes anymore. Bucky feels sad for him as he watches him undress, clearly embarrassed. They’ve already been so intimate with one another, Bucky wishes Steve could just relax, but he’s obviously struggling. He hesitates once he’s down to just his underwear, thumbs hooked in the elastic waistband and peeking up to see if Bucky’s watching.

Bucky’s heart pulls in sympathy. He goes over to him. “Here. Let me help.” He pulls the underwear down slowly but he doesn’t look away from Steve’s face as he does it. They stare at each other. He lets them fall. “Step out,” he says softly. Steve does, looking almost pained now that he’s bared. Bucky traces a thumb along his cheek. “You don’t have to be shy with me.”

“Bucky,” Steve shudders, “I—”

Bucky surges forward impulsively, grabbing Steve’s jaw and pressing their bodies together, kissing him, hard. It feels so good, is such a relief after the tension and turmoil of the past week. He kisses him roughly just that once, then pauses with their foreheads touching, lips brushing together. “Oh, Steve,” he sighs, half complaint, half desire. He wants Steve to want him, to want them, again. Bucky doesn’t want to go without him anymore. He pecks a series of gentler kisses on his lips, lingering a little bit longer each time. Steve stiffens for only a second before he melts under it and his lips part and he begins to kiss back. Bucky hums in approval, licking into his mouth. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Missed this. Missed you.” He threads a hand into Steve’s hair and tugs against his waist with the other, pulling him flush against his body. “Sweet boy.”

“Wait,” Steve gasps, squirming in his arms. Bucky keeps going though, and Steve whines into his mouth, pleasured despite himself. His eyes slip closed for the barest of moments, but he realizes what he’s doing and still tries to stop. “Bucky, ugh. Wait, wait, no-”

Bucky just keeps kissing him coaxingly, thrilling each time Steve forgets to fight and a little sound of pleasure escapes him. Steve turns his head away and Bucky’s lips slide against his cheek. “Let me,” he breathes. “Don’t you want it? How long’s it been for you?” He lets one hand trail down, cupping Steve between his legs. He’s not hard, but he’s not soft, either. “Bet you haven’t touched yourself this whole time, huh? Haven’t had any relief. Poor baby.”

Steve shows a surprising amount of strength when he pushes against Bucky’s chest. “I can’t,” he says. “Bucky, we can’t.”

“Says who?” Bucky pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, smirking when he sees how Steve’s eyes rove over his naked chest. Even now, he can’t help but to look, and Bucky gloats over it. “Yeah,” he says smugly, hands going for his fly. “You still want it.” He shucks his pants and his briefs, but once he’s naked it seems to shake Steve out of his staring and he goes back to protesting weakly,

“Wait, no. Bucky stop-”

Bucky backs him up into the shower, the spray falling over them, soaking them. Steve’s back hits the shower wall and he squeaks. Bucky crowds in against him, smirking. “Don’t know why you get so worked up,” he murmurs, grabbing at his hips, fingers digging into the sides of his ass. Bucky curses quietly at the feeling of having him under his hands again. “Christ, this sweet little body, so fucking perfect.”

Steve whimpers and pushes weakly against him, but he’s squirming more than he’s fighting, giving Bucky token protests that only turn him on more. “Don’t,” he says, panting as Bucky starts necking at him. “Oh-”

“Mmhm.” Bucky licks the water from his skin, places hot, sucking kisses all over his neck. “Taste so good, Sweetheart.”

Steve groans and pushes harder against him, resisting. “Stop. We can’t do this.”

“Sure we can,” Bucky says, scraping his teeth over where he’s been kissing, relishing the tiny gasps and responses that Steve can’t seem to help. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His little body keeps arching, pushing up against Bucky’s larger frame, his hands flying around as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. One second he’s pushing, the next he’s digging his fingers into the meat of Bucky’s arms and shoulders, his back. He makes the sweetest sounds.

Bucky growls and nips at his neck. “Yeah,” he husks, shoving a thigh between Steve’s legs and pushing; pushing him against the wall and pushing up. Steve’s cock is hard against him. “Missed you, sweet boy,” he murmurs against slicked-wet skin. He cradles Steve’s hip and his jaw, moving against him, rubbing his own aching dick against Steve’s belly. “Missed making you feel good.”

“Bucky,” Steve whimpers, squirming against him.

“Shh.” Bucky finds his mouth again and slides their lips together. “Don’t fight me. Let Daddy make you feel good, hm?”

Steve groans when Bucky’s hand closes around his cock. “Ah! Oh …”

“Mmhm, just like that, huh? Just gotta get you warmed up, don’t I?” He works his fist up and down Steve’s cock, everything slick from the water rushing down on them. Bucky presses his leg up more, almost lifting Steve to his toes with it.

Steve squeaks and grabs onto him, nails digging in sharply at Bucky’s shoulders. “Oh!”

Bucky grins. He’s panting against the side of Steve’s face as he jerks him off. When Steve finally looses an uninhibited moan, Bucky moans too. “Fuck, Honey,” he breathes, “That’s what I like to hear.” He seals their mouths together in another harsh kiss. “Don’t hold back,” he tells him. “Let me hear all those pretty sounds.”

Steve’s working for it now, rolling his spine and thrusting his cock into Bucky’s fist, rocking on his thigh in a beautiful display. Bucky’s dick throbs at the sight and he reaches for himself, too, starts stripping it at a ruthless pace. “Come on,” he husks, nudging their faces together as they both look down at what he’s doing. “You close? We’re gonna cum together. You want that? Come on.”

He jerks them harder, and soon Steve cries out sharply and starts to pulse in Bucky’s hand. He shoots off, grunting little, “Ah ah ahs” as he rides it out.

It’s gorgeous and Bucky growls in approval, the sight of Steve’s slim body shaking, of his cum coating Bucky’s hand, setting him off into his own orgasm. “Shit,” he hisses. He slams his eyes shut and shoves his face into Steve’s shoulder, squeezing his dick hard as he comes, feeling it in his balls, so good.

He’s left panting, Steve’s wrung out body in his arms, the water still beating down on them and washing away the traces of their cum. “Baby,” he breathes. Steve is still catching his breath. When Bucky pulls back to check on him, he looks dazed. “Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, cupping his face. He strokes his thumb along his temple, searching out his eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

Steve exhales shakily and squirms in his arms, evasive. “Yeah,” he says, “I’m fine.” He’s pulling, so Bucky lets him go. For a second it looks like he might fall down from legs gone to jelly, but he firms himself up and turns away.

“... Steve-”

“I have to wash,” he says quietly, voice still affected from what they’ve done. Bucky watches as he grabs the soap and starts to lather his hands up, pointedly facing away from Bucky, the muscles in his little back tense.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Bucky tries to comfort him, but Steve remains how he is.

“Could you just give me a minute alone, please?” he asks quietly. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Bucky frowns, but he obliges. There’s nothing in the shower that Steve can hurt himself with. “Okay,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles over the top of Steve’s ass as he passes. “I’ll get you a towel. Take all the time you need, Sweetheart.” He’s disappointed that Steve’s clamming up on him again, but he figures the poor thing has a lot to process. Bucky won’t rush him.

They’ve got all the time in the world.

Steve:

Carlo’s been over every day, making a racket with power tools. The air in the basement smells like plaster dust. Steve doesn’t like it.

Bucky shows up and says, “Steve. I have to talk to you about something.”

Well that doesn’t sound good.

Steve feels apprehension fill him as he watches Bucky trail into the room, looking glum. He sits himself down on the metal stool by the vanity. Steve marks the page in the book he’s reading—War and Peace, this time. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to the city tomorrow.”

Steve perks up. “New York?”

Bucky scratches behind his ear awkwardly. “Um, yeah. Actually, I’ll have to make a few trips this next week or two. More than a few. I’ll have to leave you here on your own.”

“Really?”

Bucky scowls. “Well don’t look so excited about it.”

“What’ll I do for food?” Steve asks, careful to reign his enthusiasm in. “How long are you gonna be gone?”

“I’ll still come home in the evenings,” Bucky tells him. “I’ll get you all set up with meals and loads of snacks in the mornings before I leave.”

Steve knows he should be excited to be getting this chance, but he feels a surprising pang of disappointment when he thinks of being all alone and not getting to see Bucky for so long. It’s sad to say, but Bucky bringing him his meals has become the high point of his days. He thinks that he’ll be terribly bored, without him there. “What are you going for, anyway?” Bucky looks uncomfortable. He hesitates to answer, which makes Steve grow concerned. “Buck? Why are you going back to the city?” He has a bad feeling.

“... Work,” Bucky admits. “I have to get new product.”

Bad feeling confirmed.

Steve’s lips part and he stares for a long moment, replaying what Bucky just said. “What?” Bucky is avoiding looking at him, and Steve gapes. “Is that what you … that’s what you call them?” he asks incredulously. “Product?”

“Steve,” Bucky groans, swiping a hand over his face. “Please don’t be dramatic.”

Steve stares. “Dramatic? Dramatic??”

“You heard me.”

“You’re going into the city to kidnap somebody!” Steve says, scornful. “Somebody to kill!”

“Eventually,” Bucky says, fed up with Steve’s scolding. He boldly stares him down. “I’ll keep her alive until I can’t anymore. The meat stays fresher that way.”

Her, Steve thinks numbly. Bucky already knows it’s a woman he’s going to kidnap.

Steve remembers the sight of the limbless woman in the other cell, remembers how she’d asked Steve to help her, to kill her. He remembers how Bucky had brought him his dinner one night and calmly told him that she was “done.” He’d killed her. The man who’d said and done those terrible things is the same handsome man Steve met in the grocery store. It’s the same man who won Steve over, who made love to him so many times. Who made him fall apart in the shower yesterday.

“You’re a monster,” Steve breathes.

Bucky’s features harden. “That’s relative.”

It’s really not. “How can you do this to people?” Steve asks, outrage growing. God, how could he have let Bucky touch him again?

“These women, Steve. If you only knew.”

“Knew what?” Steve snaps. “What I know is what I saw in that cell. I saw what you did to her.”

“She deserved it,” Bucky says lowly, eyes burning. “They all do.”

“No,” Steve exhales shakily. “No. You’re a killer.” Bucky’s lips thin and his fists ball up. Steve sees this and he shakes his head. Bucky must be like Ted Bundy, he thinks. He must have a burning hatred for the women he kills. “They don’t deserve what you do to them.”

“They do.”

“You’re sick, you know that?! You’re sick.”

Bucky shoots up to standing. He stalks over and Steve scuttles backwards into the corner, scared. But Bucky crouches down and grabs him by the neck. Steve squeaks in alarm. “Don’t talk to me like that,” Bucky hisses, eyes blazing. “I’m your whole fuckin’ world right now. You got that? I control when and if you eat, sleep, bathe. Everything.” He gives him a little shake and Steve whimpers,

“Stop.”

Bucky leans in close, putting his lips right against Steve’s cheek. His next words are spoken softly, an intimate purr that still manages to be menacing. “I control you, Baby. I control everything.” He kisses his cheek. “So behave. Or there'll be consequences.”

Steve swallows heavily, throat working against Bucky’s hand. “Okay,” he breathes. “Okay. I will. I’m sorry.”

Bucky looks him over carefully. He seems satisfied by what he finds, and he softens. “Okay. Good.” He kisses him on the mouth, soft and slow and dominant. Steve can’t do anything but sit there and take it. Bucky hums, darkly pleased, and murmurs right against his lips, “That’s all I ask.”

Steve’s still tense as Bucky stands up and stares down at him, looking haughty at having gotten his submission. He puts a hand on Steve’s head and pets him. “Is there anything you need?”

Steve shakes his head, eyes downcast. “... W-when are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll be back in the evening.”

Steve ponders that, wonders what he’d do if the house caught fire with him trapped there, alone. Burn to a crispy critter, he supposes. “What if there’s an emergency?” he asks timidly.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Are you planning on having an accident, Steve?”

“No!” Steve can see the consideration in Bucky’s face. He figures there must’ve been others before him who tried to hurt themselves. But that’s not Steve’s endgame. “I’ll be good,” he promises. “I will.”

“Carlo will be in during the day,” Bucky warns. “He’ll let me know if you’re trying to do anything you shouldn’t.”

“Carlo?” Steve gets an unpleasant thrill up his spine at this news. “You’re leaving me alone with him?”

“He’s just going to be working on the other room,” Bucky reassures. “Nothing more.”

“But …” Steve thinks about how Carlo is one of Bucky’s paying customers. That makes him dangerous. And if Bucky isn’t there all day, then … “What if he tries to … to touch me or—” eat me.

“He won’t,” Bucky snaps, voice gone hard again. “He wouldn’t dare. I’d fucking slaughter him if he so much as—” he cuts off, catching himself before he starts going on a murderous rant, probably. “No,” he tells Steve. “No he won’t do a thing to you. He won’t even be able to get in your room.” He holds up the little electronic key fob that Steve knows he uses to open his cell. “He won’t have this.”

Steve shivers and nods. “Okay,” he whispers. Bucky pats his head consolingly and Steve looks down, embarrassed. He can’t help it that he feels reassured by Bucky’s fierce protectiveness of him. Even if it is kind of creepy, he still appreciates that Bucky would be willing to kill for him.

Better the cannibal you know, than the cannibal you don’t.

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eat-the-richard · 11 months ago

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GOTY OF THE YEAR 2,000,023

IT'S ABOUT THAT TIME AAGAIN FRIENDS! Another overly long written ramble about the very best in my personal gaming life and experience delivered DIRECTLY TO YOUR EYEBALLS!

And what a year it was!! For gaming! All of it! Just a comprehensive onslaught of video game products from all different genres and developers. From Triple As to Indies to whatever the fuck we're supposed to call the middle ground of those two. No matter who you (yes, YOU, not the general ""you"") are, something came out this year that tickled your little small little balls in one way or the other.

The best part of all, though? A year like this will NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN!! Certainly not next year, like my god look at that 2024 upcoming games list, man. It is *slight*.

You wanna know why? Because this amount of quality output, of course, does not come from studios or companies or brands or even the almighty dollar sign. It comes, of course, from people. People who are insanely talented and passionate about their craft. Likely those who dreamed for years to be a part of this seemingly amazing industry of creative professionals all striving towards the same creative goals. And for gaming developers, 2023 was not a year worth celebrating. Sure the products that they worked on released to the public to play and enjoy, but as soon as these projects wrapped up, the studio or company or brand or even the almighty dollar sign ditched their ass RIGHT TO THE CURB!

Because to all of those previously mentioned abstractions, talent is expendable. Demand for talent should be at an all time high, given that gaming continues to be the most money-making entertainment medium of the 21st century. So more games should be in development, therefore necessitating more job opportunities and areas where passionate individuals can spearhead their own creativity into a golden goose. But, of course, this is not how abstractions operate. The talent who creates these fine pieces of art are mere cogs to them, oiling and greasing a machine that will continue to move as long as the pieces are in place. And there will always be a new crop of cogs fresh in the industry who will be willing to take meager pay, miserable conditions, and limited flexibility in their line of work, as long as they get a chance to work with the abstractions.

This, of course, will not happen. The continuous horror of the modern gaming industry spreads far and wide. Notably to our youth, as chronically online as they are, who likely will not want to invest their time and life into a career that will never respect them. As for the talent who have been laid off every month this year? They won't stick around. Their services are applicable in many other fields that not only pay better, but have far more job security. So the talent pool dries up, there will be increasingly fewer individuals looking to refill, and the gaming bubble finally pops.

We're at the precipice of it, and it's hard to ignore the warning signs. It's hard to write a piece about the "great year in gaming" we as consumers had as it feels like the industry that created it might not look the same way in 10 years. Gaming won't die, obviously, there's too much demand for it. But the 300 million dollar blockbusters, the 3-4 year crunch periods, the constant race to produce technological best. That will die. And this year was the last hurrah.

So, in that spirit, let's celebrate the year that was for me. The 10 best games from this year and previous that remind me why I love it in the first place. Why I want to support it, and wish it nothing but the best. And most of all, highlighting the talent who ultimately made it possible, rather than the abstraction who will tear it down.

---------------

Anyway! Enough of that SHIT!! Video games are cool, and I like them. Today, we’re going to RANK the TOP 10-ish GAMES I PLAYED in Twenty Twenty Three. But before that, let’s dive into some dis/honorable mentions.

REMASTER I REALLY LIKED BUT DIDN’T WANT TO RANK BECAUSE ITS A REMASTER OF THE YEAR: Metroid Prime Remastered (NSW)

Take your pick of, like, six or seven different 25-30 year old Metroid fans and slam them elbow-first into a padded cell. Once they come to and they start talking about Metroid, as you do in confinement, about five or six of them will confess that their first love was Metroid Prime. I would count myself one of them inside of the cell, even if it took me until 2015 and the shudders Wii U Virtual Console for me to finally give it a try.

The six-or-seven imprisoned Metroid fans will inevitably start comparing the two most popular entries in the series: Super Metroid and Metroid Prime. To me, Super Metroid is all about its scenario. Finely tuned and expertly paced, “Super” is a game I play for that jolt of the Metroid formula that currently makes up ½ of every game that comes out nowadays. But Metroid Prime is about atmosphere. The reflections of Samus’ face in the visor dotted by raindrops from above. The movement of fauna, shade & various enemies flowing through every screen. Honestly while I’m writing this the Phendrana Drifts theme is playing in my head.

Metroid Prime isn’t as precise as Super Metroid, but its ambiance is striking. This presentation, already beautiful on the GameCube, is only enhanced on Switch. Despite very little of the original Prime team still being at Retro Studios, you can tell this one was crafted with an enormous amount of respect for the source material. It gets the rare yet coveted distinction for a remaster/make/release of looking just as you remembered it your first go around, yet looking obviously much better when compared side by side. It does well to continue the legacy of this momentous game, to hopefully expose its importance to more than just the five-or-six of us currently jailed.

By the way, the one other guy who didn’t grow up with Prime? He was chatting our ear off about the “subversive excellence” of Metroid Fusion or something. How “forcing linearity in an otherwise exploration heavy series can make you feel weak and frightened” and “it has a much tighter difficulty curve than any other title in the series.” Something like that anyway, couldn’t really hear over the all-time noogie numbers I was putting up while he was stuck in a headlock.

GAME I'M MOST MAD AT MYSELF FOR NOT FINISHING: Outer Wilds (PC)

Is it a me thing? Am I not the type of guy who would truly appreciate a game like Outer Wilds? Spoilers ahead, obviously. Don’t read this part if any part of your bones and back wants to try this one out, dead serious.

Because what a HOOK this game gets you in. The first time the sun engulfed my puny little carcass, the previous session reverses itself right in front of me and the world just completely reset itself? Astonishment, blown away? Other thoughts like that. Conceptually, Outer Wilds is a knockout. The obvious point of comparison is Majora’s Mask, but the mystery at the heart of Outer Wilds is a lot less simple than Find The Four Giants. It’s a weaving thread binding all the game’s planets, but one you must piece together largely yourself.

Which made dropping it back in April and trying to come back to it hard. I probably just have to totally restart it and really really focus on what each little node of information is saying. Or just use a guide or something idk

LEAST FAVORITE GAMING EXPERIENCE OF THE YEAR: Sonic Frontiers: The Final Horizon (PC)

Ok this title might be hyperbole a bit since I didn’t completely hate it, I just wanted an excuse to write about SONIC AGAIN! I LOVE BLUE MEN!!

Speaking of hyperbole, how about the reception of Sonic Frontiers? Seems like everyone was busting their loads over this one last year. I get it, to a certain extent. As BlazeHedgehog said in his one-hour dissection of the game this year, food tastes better when you’re hungry, and us poor Sonic fans are starving. I don’t think Frontiers is perfect by anyone’s standards, but it at the very least leaves a decent yet slightly rocky foundation for future games to knock it out of the park with.

The Final Horizon is “future games”, I guess. And uh, yeah this one didn’t knock it out of the park. Kinda bunted? Maybe tripped over first base or something idk how to make better baseball analogies than this.

My main disappointment comes from the three new playable hedgehog/hedgehog adjacent creatures. Maybe it's my fault actually, since I had this wonderful idea in my head of how sick it would be for Knuckles or even Amy to have fully decked-out combat trees. Instead, these new characters are actually terrible at combat and you shouldn’t even try. They’re pretty specifically geared towards platforming challenges, unfortunate since all of them feel pretty miserable to control. My original review of this update was “Knuckles controls like an asshole” but they kind of fixed the controls so my review has been updated to “Knuckles controlled like an asshole* *when it launched therefore when everyone played it Knuckles controlled like an asshole”.

Despite my gripes with base game Frontiers, at the very least it felt like a game that was rigorously playtested. Not polished by any means (for crying out loud they never fixed the pop-in), but most platforming challenges had a certain sense of flow to them that made the open zone concept work. Final Horizon does not feel properly playtested. Levels are far less scripted, which would be a great thing in an engine that didn’t feel this busted. The difficulty spikes up seemingly at random, with the three titan boss rush on hard being probably the most unfair challenge in a Sonic game that I can remember. Even the final boss (which features one cool scene where blue eyed Super Sonic gets shot out of a gun) requires a target switching mechanic the game never expects you to know or use by that point, unless I’m an idiot. Which is always the fear.

Ah well, at least it was free. And I don’t want this to be a sign for Sonic team to ditch the open zone for the next game. I do think it can work, but the main gameplay engine needs an overhaul. Not even a Sonic Utopia masturbatory “iT sHoUlD jUsT cOnTroL lIkE tHe ClAsSicS” style control necessarily, just one that feels inherently fun to run around an empty field in. Which is easy to say, I guess. “Make the Sonic feel more funner to control,” the critic says. “Allso give me a cheeseburger “

Congratulations on winning your oddly specific category awards, previously stated video game products! Time for the top ten which was going to be a top sixteen but I’m already incredibly late on this so I’d rather not write about six extra games sorry.

10. Spyro 2: Ripto’s Rage (PS1/PC)

The intro to Spyro 2 was fun all three times I played it this year. Once on original hardware at a friend’s house, another time on my own through a PS1 emulator, and a final time through the Reignited trilogy remake. Reignited was where I played through Spyro 1 for the first time some years ago, and although the Spyro 3 remake is allegedly trash (according to my one friend who learned how to read by playing Spyro 3 at age 3), the remake of Ripto’s Rage is pretty OK by my less demanding standards. Plus it ran well on Steam Deck for whatever that’s worth.

Thankfully, playing the intro to Spyro 2 three times was actually a worthwhile thing to do! Unlike Spyro 1 which basically just lets you 100% complete every level the first time you go through it, Spyro 2 requires abilities and unlocks from later levels in the game to get every orb & collectable. Every time I replayed the various levels in Summer Forest, I learned which levels (even areas of levels) I should avoid until I learned how to climb up ladders or whatever. It is much more enjoyable on a replay to keep these types of things fresh in your mind rather than coming back to it years later as a grayed & tired old hag.

While I’m not as story-pilled as a lot of my gaming peers, even in simple games I appreciate when it feels like your actions have weight to them. Completing every level in Spyro 2 isn’t just about collecting the shiny objects and touching the top of the flagpole. Each area has its own particular race of organism coming to you with an issue caused by Ripto. And while it isn’t super complex, your actions through the level are helping that particular group of living beings. When going through the entire game, and thereby helping all of these groups with their minor or major little quibbles, it’s pretty satisfying to look back on once the game comes to a close. That element is, I think, what makes a crusty little game like Spyro 2 still hold up in the face of a very different world.

9. FEZ (PC)

For a while, I didn’t want to like FEZ. I had it on Steam, but only as a result of a Humble Bundle, back when you could specify how much of your bundle purchase went to each specific game creator. And I will never forget looking at Phil Fish and his stupid face, gleefully pulling his contribution slider allllll the way to the bottom, probably capping out at $0.01.

That was 2014. 10 years later, I have two thoughts. 1. Phil Fish’s controversy feels very very trite in comparison to what the internet or, fuck, even the ENTIRE WORLD has turned into. And 2. Phil Fish is a genius.

People were saying it at the time but I just didn’t want to believe them. And I probably didn’t have the capacity to wrap my head around what FEZ was doing. It’s an entry into what I want to define right now as an “unraveling” game (remember this, it will come up later!). On the surface, FEZ is simple. It even has simple graphics! You’re a simple man, living in a simple town, with only a jump button to your name. Then, another layer. A Fez, perhaps, on the top of your gay little head. In gameplay terms, the perspective now shifts when you press the triggers, I think all Fezes do that? Anyway, fun little platforming gimmick for a little 2D game, right?

Wrong. FEZ is a 3D game. Your position in the world is a little tricky to manipulate, but it is mapped in a 3D space. You can even view the world in 3D once you beat the game and get sunglasses. I think all sunglasses do that? Anyway, this allows for some inventive puzzle solving through trying to figure out where to jump and where to shift perspective to make your way out of the room. Can be pretty tricky, but ultimately achievable, right?

Wrong. The puzzles at the end of FEZ are not possible. Literally, I think. The last puzzle is not possible without datamines and brute-forcing it. But for the puzzles that are possible, the amount of honest to god code cracking you need to do at the end of the game is not what I was expecting. I had to bring out an honest to god notebook made of paper from wood and write down my interpretation of the game’s little language. Other games certainly take inspiration from the unraveling layers of FEZ,

8. TUNIC (PC)

Hope you were paying attention! Thank god this game comes right here on the list so I don’t have to test your attention span. TUNIC is also an unraveling type game, in sort of the exact same way to FEZ actually. It appears to be a gorgeous yet sort of simple claymation sorta interpretation of the original Legend of Zelda. You’ve got a couple a silly lookin enemies, item pickups like bombs and potions, you get to explore an overworld and some dungeons. It’s Zelda 1, right?

Wrong. TUNIC is Dark Souls. Beyond just being able to fat roll, enemy encounters can get brutally difficult, and they all respawn when you die. Upon death, you drop a bit of your coins on the ground in a ghost that will stick around when you come back to that same spot. You save and respawn at a fire. Now, comparing a game to Dark Souls is kind of like the most overdone thing in games writing at the point, but it definitely helps that you can get a sense of that original Zelda formula in all of FromSoft’s games. So TUNIC aping those trends feels like a good match, I think. From here, progression might start to make sense. You travel from save room to save room, clearing dungeons and beating bosses. Eventually you’ll find a really big one, and the game is over, right?

Wrong. TUNIC is a game about not being able to understand English. The story is pretty well known at this point I think, but the sole developer of TUNIC was inspired by playing through the notoriously obtuse-without-a-manual Zelda 1 without being able to understand the words of said manual. In TUNIC, you will find pieces of a very similar looking manual all throughout the world in no particular order and in a language you cannot read. Eventually in TUNIC you’ll hit a wall where you have no idea what to do or where to go. And suddenly, you look at a single page of the manual in a slightly different way, maybe even with your head tilted a little bit more to the right. And suddenly it all makes sense.

There’s another way in which this game unravels but it’s sort of like the impossible puzzles in FEZ and I haven’t even begun to try and wrap my head around it. I beat this game with the bad ending and I still had a jolly ole time with it. Very much my sort of game this one is. No spoken dialogue, story communicated entirely through gameplay, and hard as balls bosses. Now if only this one featured a funny little dwarf….

7. Deep Rock Galactic (PC)

Me and my friends cycled through a lot of different games this year. Still wrought in grief over the loss of TF2 and Overwatch, I think. I was kind of the outside guy in these multiplayer romps, as I am burdened with two jobs and game at weird times of the night, but I got enough time in each of them to get the idea. But of all the multiplayer games I dabbled in, the one that I am so sad I wasn’t around to play more is Deep Rock Galactic.

DRG is immediately charming. Playing as a stupid drunk dwarf is kind of inherently a little ridiculous and Ghost Ship leans into that hard. There’s of course the dedicated ROCK AND STONE button, but did you know there’s a dedicated coughing button? Not even loud obnoxious coughing either; subtle, painful coughing that feels like a burden to deal with (don’t @ me I know it’s not supposed to be a coughing button). The hub of DRG is honestly the most fun part of the game, I think. Just spending time with the buds fucking around with barrels and getting drunk on exploding IPAs is quality stuff.

I only played Driller, I think? The rest of the characters are probably fun though. I just liked being able to serve that oh-so-important purpose of pressing M1 in a direction and overheating by accident, as well as using my flamethrower to hurt my teammates. And using my C4 to hurt my teammates. I’m sure they all hate playing with me since I suck ass, but it’s hard for me to get mad at myself when I’m bad at the game since the stakes feel pretty low. Co-op games like this always appeal to me more than PVP for that exact reason, and I hope I can put DRG on this same list next year when I’m a little bit more seasoned.

DRG also fucked up my reflexes for every other game as I always want to press F to throw a flare into a dark room. Even in real life!

6. Dying Light (PC)

Another multiplayer game, although this one isn’t really originally intended to be multiplayer. This game flew under the radar for me for a long time until one of my friends randomly suggested we play it co-op one day and we all happened to have it for free on the Critically Acclaimed Epic Games Launcher. First thing to address here, this game is shockingly seamless as a multiplayer game considering it’s obviously a single player game primarily. Ok, maybe not quite seamless since all the player characters are the same generic white guy protagonist. At least you can wear a clown outfit? But the connection never dips, you’re never kicked out for no reason, everyone gets to watch a cutscene at the same time. Great co-op experience overall.

Honestly, the story and scenario of Dying Light is very uninteresting to me. We haven’t even beat the main story yet. In fact, we go out of our way to not do the main story and just focus on side content as much as we can. Because the core gameplay of Dying Light is fantastic. Again, this game completely flew under the radar for me and I feel like the same thing happened to most people I know. So I was shocked at how good the game feels. Jumping from roof to roof rarely doesn’t work once you know what you’re doing thanks to the generous ledge grab system. And once you get a grappling hook? Bitch, every game should have a grappling hook.

Combat is where the game really shines though. We set the difficulty to hard right away, which initially made it practically impossible to kill even the most basic type of zombie. If you’re just trying to whack the undead with a simple melee weapon, you’re probably going to get your health drained in an instant. Obviously you get better weapons, even guns towards the back half of the game. But you don’t want to use those all the time, especially guns since they make a ton of noise and alert a ton of infected. So it’s when you start unlocking cool-ass moves like the little kick you do to finish off downed enemies skulls, tackling zombies to the floor, vaulting over their heads to get a quick move on, even a whole ass dropkick to send them tumbling into a spike wall that Dying Light starts becoming fun as hell to just run around in.

Dying Light is also tied with Zelda Tears of the Kingdom as having the most “dark” “darkness” in a game I played this year. You straight up cannot see anything at night in this game, and if you turn on your flashlight you might wake up your mom. She’ll grab and kill you!

5. Lethal Company (PC)

What makes writing about Lethal Company hard is that, in a way, it’s undeniable. There’s no wonder why this became one of 2023’s best sellers practically overnight. Its charm is just that apparent. But why? To me, it’s how it straddles the line.

Obviously, Lethal Company is hilarious. It’s baked into the animations, with a jerky running animation that radiates Scooby-Doo-like energy and the single greatest dancing animation in all of gaming. Despite picking up items to later sell being the whole point of the game, they pack in so many silly little trinkets that are hard to separate yourself from; some can even make sounds! The first time I ever picked up the airhorn was on video, and I popped off harder for that than anything else this year. You may find yourself barrelling off the edge of a railing to your death because you thought you could jump over a gap with a big screw in your hand. Lethal Company is not only trying to make you laugh, but gives you the tools to get into a situation that’ll make your friends laugh.

But Lethal Company is also terrifying. Especially when you have no idea what you’re doing. Deep within the halls lurk otherworldly abominations with behavior that isn’t easy to parse your first time through. Some can be easy enough to avoid like the loot bugs and spiders. But others force you to change the way you move through the level, like the Bracken that requires you to constantly look behind you or else have your neck suddenly snapped, or the Coil Head that requires constant eye-contact or else have your neck suddenly snapped. If the terror was just contained to the halls, that would be one thing. But every Lethal Company player remembers their first time seeing the Forest Keeper, silently tip-toeing your way just out of sight else get eaten alive. You can certainly learn the patterns of each of these hostile entities to make progression easier, but keeping them all in mind while juggling the keys, ducks, and generators in your hands can often be too much to handle.

Despite all the horror elements, though, I never really get too scared playing Lethal Company? At least never for too long. And that’s the beauty of it - the line that the game is teetering on between comedy and terror. Even in observing the objectively very dangerous Bracken, it’s hard not to laugh at how sheepish he looks when backing away from you. When killed suddenly by a big dog outside your ship, the tension breaks once you realize that your friends are going to have to deal with that same dog and laugh as they die with you. Ultimately, Lethal Company’s charm lives and dies by how well it executes its two polar-opposite fundamental elements.

If updates can give more of a reason to keep playing the game after you learn the trick to each of the monsters, then this will be a multiplayer game for the books. That and add in suit customization bro, like come on the rack is right there!!

4. Super Mario Bros. Wonder (NSW)

If I was 7, Super Mario Bros. Wonder would be my favorite game ever. I am actively envious of the kids who get to grow up playing this game. Mario always hits different when you’re first getting into this method of experiencing media. Learning the fundamentals of controlling Mario is a gaming memory I will always cherish.The timing required to stomp on blocks and enemies, juggling the power-ups required to get certain secrets in a level, and the flow state you reach in jaunting through the familiar sights and sounds are baked into my gaming DNA.

As such, I found Super Mario Bros. Wonder to be very easy. There are some harder levels sprinkled throughout the game, but in a year that I beat every Super Meat Boy chapter without dying for fun, those didn’t give me much trouble. With that, plus the sheer number of Mario games I’ve played over the past 15 years of my life, I ate this game’s lunch and didn’t break a sweat. It’s probably unfair to knock a Mario game for being easy, but considering I’m not the only person who’s broached this criticism, I think it has enough merit. But again, I am envious of those who do not have this level of skill. To the kids wiping their greasy spaghetti hands on their Switch and Joy Cons, experiencing Mario for the first time because you liked Chris Pratt’s performance in the Mario movie. If this is your first time, this will leave an unforgettable impression.

Course-clear Mario games like Bros 3, World, 3D World, NSMB, and a bunch of other words and letter combinations are built on gimmicks. Gimmick is often used in a derogatory sense in gaming discussion circles to talk about shallow, meaningless fluff added to a game just to add a pinch of variety and extend run time. But as Mario has proven time and time again, gimmicks can be good, actually. It allows each level to stay fresh, with new ideas constantly being thrown at you with no time given to let any of it grow old. Mario Bros. Wonder is built off this same foundation, but goes absolutely nuts with it. The first part of every level is designed as normal, with some set of enemies, power-ups or other obstacles being presented at an easy pace. But as soon as you Touch Fuzzy, Get Dizzy, that gimmick is either flipped on its head or is magnified to the highest extent possible. When you allow your development team to design a game for years with no deadline, this is the type of experience you can create.

Also, this should go without saying, but this is probably the best looking game I’ve played all year. It doesn’t do anything crazy technically (like this probably could have been done on the Wii?), but each screenshot is blooming with color, flavor, and life. Shouts out in particular to the new Luigi model. I have no idea what specifically they did to his proportions, but DO NOT change it. This is perfect. Look at him. Perfect.

3. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom (NSW)

Hilariously, this is the second Nintendo game in a row on the top half of this list that I’m going to spend half the review bitching about. Because TOTK is the exact same as Breath of the Wild. No, not in the way you’re thinking, although that is somewhat part of it. Not because the world is the same, the overall presentation is the same, the areas are largely the same, the combat is the same, the structure of the game is pretty much the same. Not any of that, rather that this game shares BOTW’s biggest problem - it gets worse the more you think about it.

Because while I was playing it, it felt like the coolest thing ever. Ultrahand is a marvel of design and programming, obviously. Should go without saying that the potential of ultrahand is boundless, and that week where everyone was posting their Zelda creations was very fun. The abilities in general are so ingenious that they actively tricked me into playing the same 100 hour game again. Ascend in particular is one of those things that just breaks your brain and makes you want to do it in every single game that you play afterwards. The first time I discovered the depths, after not getting spoiled on it and not noticing it at all in the game’s trailers, made me feel the same magic as those opening hours of Breath of the Wild. It also shares a spot with Dying Light for having the “darkest” “darkness” in video gaming. Congrats! The awards in the mail. And after what I believe to be one of the greatest endings a Zelda game has ever had, with a killer final fight and that moment with Link and Zelda at the end, I was convinced I had played my favorite game ever.

But of course, you cannot make these sorts of decisions on your favorite X thing ever in a day, a week, even a year. It grows with time. And over time, I had a stark realization that Tears of the Kingdom didn’t really fix many of the issues I had with Breath of the Wild, even if I thought they did at the time. Item degradation was annoying the first go around, but the second time, especially considering all the crafting you have to do to get good weapons, feels especially tedious. The story is just as daft and pointless, even if it ends on a better note. The “Sacred Stone?” repetition has already been memed to death at this point but it’s notable how I didn’t even notice it at first since I had already long since tuned out of the story. Dungeons still don’t hit the same as in previous Zeldas, with the precise almost Metroid-like design of items locking progression not even attempted for a second time. Even the depths, which enamored me so deeply when I first found them, gradually became a slog to travel through as its visual repetition and lack of unique content started to dawn on me.

When I was playing Breath of the Wild for the first time, in a life that feels like it was ages and ages ago, I distinctly remember being in awe of the world they had created and the joy I had in exploring it. Even though I had my faults with the game, as I kept thinking about it, that lasting impression is what sticks out so many years later. Will the same thing happen to Tears of the Kingdom? Will its strengths persist in my head in a decade? Or will its blemishes keep it from true greatness in my mind?

One thing’s for sure: I never want to see a god damn Korok again. At least in this game you can create a device that sets them on fire, smushes them with a giant hammer, then catapults them over a mountain into a bottomless pit. Kinda fucked up you can do that…

2. Pizza Tower (PC)

Pizza Tower is fucked up game made by a fucked up man. How else can I explain the absolutely batshit insane ideas this game throws at you? The first level is called John Gutter. There’s another level in this game called “Oh Shit!” where you run around in the sewer. Mort the Chicken from the PS1 game Mort the Chicken returns to grab onto your head and force you to do double jumps. You’re forced to play golf. There’s a level where you get jumpscared by FNAF pizza topping animatronics and at the end you get to Shoot Them With A Shotgun. One of the bosses is a fucked up version of yourself that’s actually made of liquid and is secretly just a brain with eyes. You’re italian.

I could go on. Despite my cursed Nintendo centric brain, I’ve never dabbled into Wario Land, which Pizza Tower obviously takes a lot of inspiration from. But when looking at gameplay of those older games after finishing this one, I don’t think I would really get a whole lot out of it. Pizza Tower is basically those Wario Land games made by a guy with as sick of a brain as I do, drawing all the assets with MSPaint and cramming each level with crazy bullshit and fun gameplay ideas. Those other games would probably feel kind of lacking in comparison. Like Mario Wonder, the levels in Pizza Tower are gimmicky by design, introducing one-off gameplay ideas and passing the ball to the next idea as soon as possible. So why is Pizza Tower higher than Mario Wonder?

Because Pizza Tower is an anime. When completing each level, you’re ranked from a scale of D to S, same as Sonic. At least that’s what it seems at first, though, as there is another rank. The coveted P-Rank is locked behind not just a perfect run collecting all the pizza toppings through the level, but looping back around and racing through that same level again. All within the time limit given to you when smacking the John at the end of each level. As you can probably tell, this is fucked up. Nothing else in Pizza Tower, not even the batshit level ideas, can reach how fucked up getting a P-Rank is in any level of this game. I’ve only gotten two I think? But Christ, what a rush it is. Pushing your familiarity with the controls and the level like this, reaching a glorious flow state is exactly where I love to be in a 2D platformer. And when I see that sick as hell anime OP ass P-Rank animation, I reach COMPLETE GAMING EUPHORIA.

I am so excited to jump back into this one once I have the time and give this the thorough beating it deserves. Just like how Peppino has been thoroughly beaten….. By The Cruel Hand He’s Been Dealt Through The Struggles Of Maintaining Your Own Pizza Business In A Horrible Capitalist Nightmare………

1. Pikmin 4 (NSW)

Hell yeah Baby!!! Pikmimn 4 Sweep! If you don’t play Pikmin 4 I’ll KILL YOu you stupid piece of shit!!

Pikmin is doomed to be a niche. It’s got a bunch of cute little men walking around and a circular dog that you jump on the back of. But it is so brutally punishing that kids are almost certainly going to bounce off it. And the strategy-heads that would undoubtedly enjoy what it has to offer almost certainly won’t even give it a chance because of the cute little men and the circular dog. This dichotomy, of course, is why I love Pikmin.

I began the year in preparation for Pikmin 4 to finally play the original Pikmin on GameCube. Previously, I had one playthrough of Pikmin 3 but it honestly didn’t do all too much for me for whatever reason. So I wanted to go all the way back to the most busted up, brutal game in the series so I could understand the appeal. Within the first hour of play, all of my Pikmin had either been drowned or crushed by a giant Bulborb because I had no idea what I was doing. And that game has a strict time limit, so you can only fuck up so many times before you get a genuine game over.

So what’s the appeal? Well Nintendo finally found a word for it in the marketing for Pikmin 4 that probably doesn’t exist in English so they just said fuck it and used the Japanese word anyway: “Dandori 段”. Basically being able to manage your tasks and resources in a timely fashion to reach maximum efficiency. Pikmin 1 forces you to figure this out to some degree or else you’re not getting home. And with the limited scope of that game’s levels, Pikmin types, and enemies, I think it’s a great way to learn. Each Pikmin has a clearly defined use case that directly corresponds with their color, and the obstacles in your path are easy to understand in relation to those basic abilities. Need a powerhouse that can take quick work of this giant beetle? Red is your go to. A ship part is stuck high up? The lanky and tall yellows are your guys. Water? Blue. You get the gist.

The problem with Pikmin 1? And every other Pikmin game for that matter? It’s not enough. It needs more. I’m cool with short games but Pikmin 1 can be beaten in like 3 hours. Pikmin 3 is like 10. Usually more content isn’t what makes a game “gooder” but I do genuinely think that the short run time of previous games made this idea of Dandori harder to tap into on a single playthrough. How did they fix this in Pikmin 4?

WEll, my friend, they did this through VARIETY OF MODES!

The main story of Pikmin 4 is basically the 10 hour tutorial. A gentle romp through all the major areas, some largely easy enemies, no game-long time limit, heavy tutorializing, an introduction to all the Pikmin types, basically baby’s first Pikmin. Even if you only play the story, you have so much to sink your teeth into. The above ground areas are as fun as ever, with the addition of Oatchi as a Pikmin platform AND a way to introduce platforming into the Pikmin formula being such an obvious and fun addition. Caves return from Pikmin 2 as a break from the time-limit imposed by the rest of the game, allowing for some tighter combat sections and the satisfaction of scouring an entire area and getting 100% item completion. Dandori challenges scattered throughout the levels provide a taste of that hyper-focused time limit gameplay from Pikmin 1, forcing a greater degree of focus and understanding of the mechanics and design than in most of the rest of the game. Nighttime missions morph the usual Pikmin gameplay into more of a tower survival type of thing, protecting key areas while using the uniquely powerful new glow Pikmin. And each of the major areas all being in the garden of just somebody's house that you THEN get to go inside in what is by far the most unique level in a Pikmin game is some serious chef’s kiss type beat.

So that’s all well and good for the base game. But the post game? The post game? This is what takes Pikmin 4 to legendary heights. I CAN’T EVEN WRITE HERE everything I want to say because I KNOW YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED THIS GAME, and it was so joyous when I had these experiences blind. What I will say is this - this idea of Dandori and your understanding of it will be tested in some of the late game Dandori challenges. Entirely optional content by the way, nothing needed if you aren’t fucking with the idea of being an ancient Dandori master or anything. But this is the type of thing I live for in games. Mechanics and design being stretched to their limit, pushing your boundaries and forcing you to execute nearly perfectly to get the win. Usually uber-hard platformers are all that get this type of reaction out of me. Maybe I should be a strategy gamer? Am I finally ascending to be the Total War XCom Starcraft freakazoid I was always meant to be?

Maybe it was the surprise in how much I was enjoying Pikmin 4 for my entire 40 hour playthrough that gets it this high on the list. A marriage of gorgeous presentation, compelling mechanics, and content out the ass that no other game this year quite reached for me. DLC for this game is a must buy. Honestly, I might just play this game again some time soon, I need to make sure my feelings about it aren’t a fluke.

And most importantly, YOU (yes, YOU, not the general ""you"") need to play this game. I DO NOT CARE if you have a Switch. DOWNLOAD THIS GAME FROM NSW2U.COM AND DOWNLOAD THE YUZU EMULATOR AND SEARCH ON GOOGLE “Nintendo Switch Keys Download” TO PLAY THIS GAME FOR FREE ON YOUR COMPUTER. Maybe you won’t even love it but DAMN IT I do. I’m glad Pikmin got another chance and for that chance to be the most feature-packed and gloriously executed game in the series by far. Hope this isn’t the end for our Pick-ed Men… Hope they don’t throw my colorful men in IP jail for 10 years again… Hope I can say hi to my good friend Olli mare one more time before I’m old and gray………

Thats it ok bye

#game of the year #pikmin 4 #essay #top 10 #pizza tower #i outdid last year by 2000 words!

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ahundredtimesover · 4 years ago

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Can’t Be Without You | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, side Jin x Reader

Genre/Tags: best friends au, underground fighter!JK; angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: depictions of blood and violence (involving JK), implied depression/anxiety, unhealthy coping mechanisms, foul language, family problems, sexual content, mentions of alcohol, mention of a robbery (it’s not too bad but please read with caution! Let me know if missed any tws) (18+)

Word count: 30.4k (decided to push this baby out in one piece i’m sorry)

Summary: One night you’re gushing over rom-coms and Jungkook’s cooking; a few nights later you’re tending to his beat-up face. But while it’s his stubbornness that’s saved you countless times before, it’s that same quality that constantly puts him in danger. OR your best friend just can’t let go of underground fighting and so, drama ensues.

A/N: I just wanted to write a bf2l fic but it got too personal whoops but this felt cathartic to write, so here’s a little piece of me to anyone willing to read. Also listen to Drown and Be There by Seafret. Please be kind always, to yourself and others! <3

“You always come running when I call, Kook. Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?”

“It does.”

“So why do you still do it?”

“I’ll lose you if I don’t. And I can’t lose you.”

“What’s on for tonight?” Jungkook asks as he hands you the bowl of bibimbap he’s prepared for you.

He disappears into the kitchen before you can reply and he returns with a plate of haemul pajeon, earning him your beaming smile reserved only for his special-made pancakes. He knows just the right crunch and just the right softness the way you like it, putting in more clams than squid, and complementing it with his “secret” sauce, which isn’t really a secret because you’ve seen him prepare it a thousand times.

“What A Girl Wants,” you answer him, digging into your rice bowl and then stuffing two squares of pancake in your mouth. “The best Amanda Bynes movie ever.”

He cocks an eyebrow, as he settles in the seat next to you. “You said it was ‘She’s the Man.’”

“Yeah, when I had a Channing Tatum phase. Now I don’t,” you say in between mouthfuls of food, eyes closed as you savor the taste of both dishes.

He watches you in amusement as if it’s the first time he’s witnessing you gobble up his cooking.

Except it isn’t. This is a weekly occurrence - twice a week, in fact, to make up for the years we were apart, you’d said.

“What happened? You were madly in love with him at one point. You would even pass up on these pancakes just to watch Step Up for the hundredth time,” he says, grabbing the spoon full of food from your hand and directing it towards his mouth.

You scowl at him but feed him nonetheless. It’s his cooking, after all.

“Magic Mike happened,” you shrug. “He became so hot, it was hard to breathe. I had to let him go. But it was amicable,” you say nonchalantly, eyes focused again on the TV screen.

He laughs at this but takes it. He’s used to this, just like he’s used to all your musings about your made-up relationships with celebrities and the made-up worlds you retreat to - a coping mechanism, a way for you to escape the shit show that was your home. He always preferred that over you running away, which you used to do quite often, too.

Jungkook is just glad you’d found healthier coping mechanisms as you grew older, his nights of searching for you beneath bridges and in alleyways now replaced with cooking your favorite food and watching your favorite films with you. Even if you eat ¾ of what he’s cooked, even if you rarely make him choose the movie, and even if you end up falling asleep halfway through.

He’ll take this over you sobbing on his chest and downing whatever alcohol you convinced the convenience store guy to sell you, every single time.

It doesn’t take long for the food to be finished.

“Food good?” He asks, a smirk creeping on his face.

“Divine. Almost as good as your mother’s,” you smile. “You know nothing will ever, ever be better than her cooking.”

Jungkook shifts on the couch. “How’s she doing by the way? And my dad? And the restaurant?” He asks nervously.

You glare at him. “Kook, they’re your parents. Why are you asking me?”

He shrugs. “Jiyoung’s been busy with medical school and said she hasn’t been able to visit Mom and Dad in a while, too. Just figured you’d know. I mean, I’m sure you know how they’re doing.”

“They’re doing fine, Kook,” you sigh. “Just constantly wondering why their own son barely calls them, which has been the case the last, what, 6 years?”

The somber look on his face still breaks your heart, but there’s really no other answer he can give you.

“They found a new supplier for vegetables that offers a better payment arrangement. There’s also this new building with office spaces nearby, so the restaurant’s getting busier during lunch hours again,” you say, knowing that it’ll satisfy him.

“That’s good,” is all he says, dropping the topic and turning to the TV as if the movie’s suddenly very interesting to him.

It’s during the fashion show scene when your phone rings and you trip trying to get to it on the other end of the couch, hurting your ankle, but you pay no mind. You know more than anyone that sometimes, picking it up a ring later could mean all the difference.

Jungkook pauses the film and chooses this time to clean the dishes. He returns to the living room with you scribbling on your notebook, a sight he’s used to as well. That work phone - the one you sleep and shower with, the one that causes panic when it rings - has become the most important thing in your life. You’re sometimes met with wails and inaudible sounds on the other end; sometimes it’s just silence, followed by a nervous voice asking if you’re free to talk. Tonight, it’s the latter.

“Tough case?” Jungkook asks as he sits next to you, right arm on the backrest of the couch, his form ready for a hug in case you need it.

“Not really. Do-yun’s parents were just going at it and he needed a distraction. Just hits close to home, that’s all,” you respond. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Jungkook knows better though. It’s usually these types of cases that affect you more than the ones that require referrals to experts and professionals. It’s tough comforting a kid on the other end of the phone as they’re crying with their parents fighting in the background, and figuring out ways to distract them until the shouting stops. He knows, because you used to be that kid, and he used to be the one on the other end, humming your favorite Disney songs and telling you about his day so you could forget about yours.

He sees you bite your trembling lips, a sign that you’re trying not to cry. You never do, though, a complete 180 from how you used to be. “I hear enough of their cries; I’d lose my mind if I hear mine, too,” you said once.

So he does what he always does during times like this. He scoots closer to pull you and wraps his strong, protective arms around you until you’re resting your head on his chest.

You’ve found that listening to his steady heartbeat calms you down, that his slight rocking of the both of you helps in evening out your breaths, and that his tight grip on you is his way of telling you that he’s got you without having to say anything. That last bit you’ve always known, though. That, and the hug he offers, haven’t changed.

Counseling these kids is tough and emotionally-draining. You don’t know if having been on their shoes once upon a time actually helps you do your job well or if you’re just torturing yourself by listening to stories that are way too familiar to be bearable. But somehow, you can’t imagine yourself doing anything else.

“Do-yun’s lucky to have you, ___,” Jungkook says, as if reading your mind. “You’re doing good, okay? Never doubt that.”

You nod on his chest and bury yourself even deeper. You soak in his jasmine and cashmere scent, an elevated one from the clean, laundry scent he used to have when you were teenagers, and take deep breaths. You hear him softly count, pacing it until you reach the number 10. He doesn’t move until you do.

With his sturdy chest hiding behind his soft hoodie, you’re provided comfort and security all at once. You’re tempted, like always, to place your legs over him until he’s enveloping you entirely under his warmth, to stay like this beyond the counts to 10 or 20, to nuzzle his neck and pepper him with soft kisses. You’re tempted to fall asleep like this so you can wake up with him still holding you this way.

But it's a temptation you never allow yourself to fall into. He’s your best friend, after all, and that’s enough to explain why you can’t ever let yourself want more than what he’s giving you. You haven’t lost your resolve in all these years since you started to feel more for the doe-eyed boy who had to tour the new girl around the school once upon a time, and you would like to keep it that way.

It wasn’t much, really. He was an average-looking 12 year-old kid when you moved to Busan, your mother’s hometown. Jungkook, as class president, was given the task to become your first friend.

He had a warm and joyful smile and that was enough for your introverted self to warm up to his similarly introverted personality. Perhaps that’s why you’ve stuck with each other since then. That, and because you lived a couple of houses down from him and your mother had requested that he walked with you to and from the bus stop every day.

He never complained though, even if he had to carry the extra bag you had filled with books you’d borrowed from the library. He never complained when he was compelled to share with you his lunch that his mother cooked because yours barely had time to prepare anything. He never complained when you go from joking around one day to being completely silent the next.

He never complained, too, when you’d throw rocks at his window to get his attention until he’s opening his front door to sneak you into his room where you just lay on the bed with him, enjoying the silence. He never complained when your parents would call him at 10PM, asking where you are because you’d run away again. He never complained when you’re the one calling him to pick you up at 1 in the morning because you’d mindlessly gone somewhere and were too tired to walk home.

Jungkook - your best friend, the honor student and star player of the taekwondo team, the popular kid at school whom everybody wanted to be friends with - never complained when he had to pick up your broken pieces and help you put them together again. Not once did he miss your calls, fail to pick you up, and not wipe your tears. He had always kept you from drowning, and found ways to make sure you never lost your shine.

It’s hard to think that at one point in your life, he wasn’t around at all. There’s still a smidgen of pain when you recall what it was like - going to Seoul for college and leaving him behind so he can study and help his parents run their restaurant, talking everyday until it was just every week, until it stopped completely.

You hated feeling like you’d given up on him when you stopped reaching out, but he couldn’t be contacted and you didn’t have time to visit home as a working-student who had to pay most of her bills herself. You couldn’t contact his parents either. All you thought was that Jungkook must’ve had a reason to end all communication, even if the fact itself was a very bitter pill to swallow. Even if you were the one always calling out to him, you never thought the time would come he’d stop needing you, too.

You clutch at his hoodie tighter at the memory, something he picks up.

“What were you thinking about just then?” he breaks into your thoughts.

You look up at him, confused. “Hmm?”

“You seemed stable and then…” he trails, looking down at your fingers gripping onto him.

“Oh,” you start, straightening your body and escaping his hold.

No reason to lie, you think. You haven’t been keeping anything from him anyway, except one thing, at least.

“I was just thinking of how I’m thankful you’re around, you know? And suddenly remembered that at one point, you weren’t.”

His face softens at your confession, and you curse yourself when you see the hint of guilt and regret forming on it.

It’s something you don’t bring up that much, which he should be happy about but he also doesn’t like thinking how easily it had been for you to forgive him for disappearing from your life.

Three years with no calls, no messages, no news about him was torture for you, but you said you always trusted him that there was a reason. He figured you were just being nice and thought it was your way to make up for all the years he kept running after you.

“It was torture for me, too,” he says. “And not just because of what happened to my family…”

You think about the robbery, the crash of the business, his dropping out of college and his move to Seoul.

“It was hard not being able to tell you everything, not having you around and just…”

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” you say, not wanting him to feel bad again.

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe if we talk about it enough, it’d stop hurting us,” he smiles.

“Hmm,” you think, fingers drumming on your chin. “Let’s stick to not talking about it.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. He takes the remote and presses play. “Now where were we?”

You’re slumped on your desk chair, eyes boring into the ceiling, wishing you were home underneath your soft covers instead, watching Disney movies, drinking hot chocolate and...

You’re broken out of your reverie when your personal phone rings, Jungkook’s face already making your day slightly better through the screen.

“I bear good news. Your favorite ice cream has been restocked,” he announces on the other end. “How many of the chocolate crunch and the red bean?” He asks, his words a bit muffled from food being stuffed in his mouth.

You check your clock. It’s lunch time, and you’re glad he’s even taking a break. Jungkook part times as a store clerk at a supermarket, hauling deliveries from the trucks, sorting them on the shelves, and assisting customers who can’t find what they’re looking for, although he often wonders why he sees the same few women on the same aisles every week without getting anything.

You’d roll your eyes at this because “obviously they’re checking you out and not the items,” and he’d just laugh at the peeved look on your face.

“___?” Jungkook asks on the other end.

“Yeah, uhm, 3 each will do. I'm scheduled to do my grocery soon anyway,” you weakly reply.

You know he noticed the dip in your voice, and this is uncommon for a Thursday, of all days. You enjoy Thursday’s because it’s game day at the youth center where you work. You had just finished playing charades and jenga with the morning batch, and it had been a fun one.

You savor the moments you see the kids enjoy themselves, their smiles and laughter a rare sight, even for them. You’d take this day over any day of them crying, asking when it will end, if they’ll ever be happy, or how to stop the nightmares.

You’re trained for this, trained to answer and comfort them. But you get them, too. It’s not easy to imagine a life when you’re not hurting when at that moment, it's all you know to feel. But Thursdays are when they’re afforded a reprieve. These moments when they’re playing around and laughing are when they get to be what they are - kids.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks, worry laced in his voice.

“Yeah, it’s just…” you start, taking a deep breath as you try to be more comfortable. “My dad’s home and he asked to meet him for dinner tomorrow, said he wants to introduce me to someone.”

“Oh,” Jungkook responds, shifting in his seat. “Are you going to see him?”

“Yeah, I guess. I haven’t seen him in 2 years and I’m sure my mom would want me to.”

“What are you more nervous about? Seeing him or…” Maybe seeing his new partner, he doesn’t say.

“Seeing him, always. Everything else follows, I guess.”

Your breath steadies; somehow just knowing Jungkook is on the other end is enough to calm you down.

“It’s just been a while and I’m okay, definitely, I just…” you stutter. You hate to ask this of your best friend because it’s the next day, a Friday, and he could always use that time to take a much-needed rest or to do his other part-time job at the club. “Can you go with me?”

There’s silence on the other end and you dislike yourself for asking this of him, on top of the many other things he already does for you on a regular basis. You should be okay and able to do this on your own without your best friend having to console you through dinner with your own flesh and blood. But the last time, you were with your older sister. Before that, you had your then-boyfriend, Minho, and he was enough of an anchor for you not to fall apart.

“Yeah, I can go with you,” Jungkook finally responds.

“Really?” You ask.

He can imagine your wide eyes and lopsided smile, and he immediately forgets whatever the consequence on his end would be. You need him, and he will always come running.

“Of course. Just let me know the details, okay? I’ll see you, then.”

“Okay!” You say, the tone of your voice now laced with calmness, and bid him goodbye.

You still don’t know how you survived those dinners without Jungkook. And you never want to know what that’s like again.

You find yourself in some swanky Italian restaurant in a posh neighborhood, your best friend next to you with his hand resting softly on your back, his effort to calm your beating heart.

You never enjoyed this, never enjoyed being around your dad. You’ve forgiven, but there was just too much of your childhood lost because of him - him and his temper, his abusive words, and his disregard for your family’s well being. In his world, he was the only person who mattered.

You recall the people who’d told you that your struggle made you who you are, so you should just move on, and this frustrates you to no end. You don’t know why they glorify pain like that, as if they’re needed to make you successful and happy. You can be both without having to suffer. You were a child - you didn’t need to be stronger; you needed to be loved and protected.

That’s why you never tell the kids you counsel to treat their moments of hurt as a badge of honor - use it to motivate you to be better for yourself, but you don’t have to be thankful for the suffering.

Your eyes are focused on the floor, so you’re startled when you hear your father’s voice, acknowledging the presence of the man next to you. Your dad’s clearly surprised.

“Jungkook!” He says.

You raise your head and see your father envelope him in a hug, something that surprises you and your best friend.

“It’s been a very long time. I’m so glad ___ decided to bring you. You’ve grown so much,” he continues, the twinkle in his eyes unmissable.

Your father continues to smile at him, thankful that he truly is in your life again. Jungkook’s the man who patched you up and helped heal your wounds that as a father, he’ll spend the rest of his life being sorry for.

“Yes, Uncle. It’s been a while. You look great,” he politely says, and bows to the woman next to him.

Your father approaches you and envelopes you in a hug as well, one you hesitantly return.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m glad you could make it on such short notice,” he says, an almost guilty look in his eyes.

You’re glad it’s been a while, and that he’s far away enough for you to not be reminded that he still is in your life, just at a safe distance. You nod at him and exchange pleasantries with the woman. By the way she’s sitting so closely to him, it’s pretty obvious who she is.

It’s all basic stuff for a while - your father asking how work has been for you and Jungkook, how his parents have been, how your mom is doing. You answer as you should and even engage a little bit. That’s you trying, and you're glad you’re only supposed to do this every time you meet, which isn’t that frequent. There are barely calls in between, and you suppose for his sake and yours, this is better.

“So, I wanted to meet you so I could introduce Hae-won. We’ve been dating for a year and I figured it’s serious enough to introduce her to you,” your father says.

The woman next to him smiles at you. “It’s great to finally meet you, ___,” she says, feeling more comfortable now.

“Likewise,” you smile, not really knowing what else to say since you just want this to be over.

“Look, honey. I’m sorry things had to be this way, but I’m really happy,” your father states, sensing you building up a wall again.

“That’s great, Dad, I’m glad you are.”

“Your mom and I are still good and she knows about us.”

You nod in response.

“I’m just sorry that your mom and I —”

“Separating was the best thing you and mom did for us, Dad,” you cut him off. “I just wish you’d done it sooner.”

You try to balance your statement with a softness in your eyes because you do mean it. Your parents’ love died a long time ago, and with it, their respect for you and your sister. They go from fighting each other, and then you, then back at each other, pretty much everyday.

You still remember a time when things were normal - by your own definition, when neither one of them was screaming at the other. But things happened, then the worst parts of them clawed out and eventually ruined your family.

They’d never physically hurt you; your dad would either kick chairs or punch doors, but he never laid a hand on any of you. At least he’s not hitting you, at least he’s not cheating on your mother, you’d heard from teachers and relatives too many times.

You try to understand them, but you didn’t realize the standard for parenting was that low. Your parents’ words hurt just the same. They didn’t need to touch you to damage you. You didn’t expect others to understand what it’s like, but you didn’t expect them to dismiss your suffering, too. That’s one other thing you ensure with the kids you counsel - never invalidate their pain. There could always be a worse situation, but they’re bad all the same.

Your statement catches everyone off-guard. You don’t realize you’re shaking until a calloused hand wraps around yours and then slowly interlaces with your fingers, Jungkook’s thumb drawing circles around yours.

“You don’t have to say sorry, that’s all. You’re happy, mom’s happy, Eun-jin’s happy, I’m happy…” you say.

Your father’s eyes soften and move from you and Jungkook and you continue before he could get the wrong impression.

“I mean, I have a job I love, I get to be around young people, and I have my best friend who's still able to make me my favorite food despite his busy schedule,” you continue. “Everything’s okay.”

“That’s good, I’m glad you’re happy,” is what your dad manages to say.

You nod and allow him to direct the conversation to a less serious one, which you’re thankful for. Jungkook eventually takes over, which you’re more thankful for. He talks about his different jobs, tells stories about customers and the things he picks up when serving VIP politicians and business people at the club where he works. He’s more animated and engaging. He includes you in the conversation just enough and only at times when you’re comfortable.

You love how Jungkook just knows when you want to disengage, when you want to say something, and when you think it’s time to call it a night and say goodbye.

With dinner over, you and Jungkook find yourselves at a bench overlooking the river, the lights off the skyscrapers reflecting on the water. The cars are whizzing past some distance; there’s laughter from friends and lovers as they walk around the area, but all of those are drowned by the presence of the man next to you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.”

There’s so much more you want to say. There’s always more, but you settle for those words because nothing else can truly capture the gratitude you feel towards him.

“You know I’ll always be here for you,” he says, lowering himself on the seat so you can rest your head on his shoulder.

“I know, Kook. I know.”

Another week rolls by and you’re just glad it’s over.

In between counseling the kids, you do program reviews and report writing for each case you’re handling. You were looking forward to tonight, at least the first half of it, because of your scheduled “dinner out” with Jin, a man you met 2 months ago over a cup of coffee because his was taking too long and the seat in front of you was the only available one he could wait at.

You remember that day. You were so immersed in reading an article on childhood trauma that you didn’t notice the man who’d been trying to catch your attention. When you looked up to say that yes, you can take the seat, you felt your words get stuck in your throat at the gorgeous man in his black textured suit, standing in front of you. And yes, that was definitely a Rolex on his wrist.

You engaged in conversation even when his coffee had been served. You’d see him a few more times in the same cafe before he finally asked for your number. He asked you to dinner, careful not to call it a date, although for every time after that, he’d show up dressed immaculately, with flowers in his hands, handing them to you and complimenting you on how you looked.

Yoongi, an older friend of yours and Jungkook’s from high school, always rolled his eyes at your hesitation to call these dinners as dates. You’re still trying to get to know each other and taking your time, you always explained, and with your baggage and the kind of work you do that leaves you broken at times, that’s going to take a while.

Jin is respectful about it. He also just wants to “enjoy whatever time we have together, so it doesn’t matter if it’s a date or a phone call. We’ll get there when you’re ready,” he said once, although you’re not exactly sure where there is.

It’s the third Friday of the month, though, and you always make sure you’re home by 10PM, no matter how fun and delicious the dinner had been. Jin isn’t the only man in your life, after all.

You’re already in your pajamas, impatiently waiting on your couch. It’s nearing 11PM and he should be knocking on your door by now. You hate how your mind thinks of about 50 reasons why he’s still not here, and as you’re about to dial his number, there’s a soft knock on the door.

You rush to open it and prepare yourself for a flurry of colorful words you’ll tell him for not texting earlier and worrying you to death but you stop on your tracks, the words dying before they could even be formed.

Your eyes widen and your chest tightens at the sight of your best friend, slumped on your door frame with his left arm holding onto his right shoulder, his upper lip split open, and the areas above and below his eyes in ugly shades of purple. A few more cuts decorate his face - over the bulges and on his cheeks. You can’t tell if his eyes are closed or not, and you can’t tell if he’s panting or if he’s trying to speak.

You’re taken out of your daze when you hear him grunt, and you immediately wrap your arm around his torso and place his other arm over your shoulder. You direct him inside and gently guide him on your couch. With his head leaned back and trying to catch his breath, you start to remove his shoes and jacket, wondering how he even got to put on anything in this state.

He’s laced in sweat and blood that’s still dripping from his wounds. You assess his shirt that’s splayed with blood, still visible despite the dark shade of his clothing.

“Kook…” you start.

Before you could say more, he uses his limited energy to speak. “I don’t have a concussion, don’t worry.”

“You’re badly beat up,” you state the obvious.

“I always am, this isn’t anything new.”

“But this is the worst I’ve seen you. It was never this bad. How did you? How would you?” You say, but choose to leave the questions hanging.

There are so many things to ask - who did he fight? Why is he badly hurt? How many days off will he request now because he clearly can’t show up to work with a beat-up face?

You decide to let the thoughts linger for now; your priority is to tend to his wounds.

“Sit still,” you say, even if it’s clear he can barely move.

You stand up to get everything you need - a glass of water, a basin and a hand towel, your medical kit.

You tend to him like clockwork, like you’ve been doing this for years. The worst part is, you have. As much as you’d like to say this is a rare instance, it sadly isn’t; it’s a twice a month kind of thing.

Your psychology degree didn’t train you to treat physical wounds, but having done this too many times to count, you think it’s training enough. You try to stop the bleeding of his wounds, clean them, put antibiotic ointment, and ice his swollen parts.

His shirt gets removed and you’ve trained yourself in this department, too, making sure you’re indifferent to his toned body, like you don’t want to caress and soothe the bruises on them with your lips.

He’s pliant this time, perhaps just lacking the energy to even breathe properly. You use the wet washcloth to wipe off the stench of his sweat and blood - first the neck and his head, then his arms, then his torso. You let him have sips of water through the straw, and he all but inhales it, including the painkillers.

He lets out a few more grunts, probably out of pain and discomfort. You start to panic a bit and retrieve your phone.

This gets his attention and he tries his best to reach out to you.

“What are you doing?” He asks with an unstable voice.

“Calling your sister.”

“___, don’t, please.”

“Kook, you’re the worst I’ve seen you. She only taught me how to heal the shallow wounds. It’s a miracle you ever only got them in all the years you’ve been fighting,” you say.

“I’m that good,” he manages to chuckle.

“So now you aren’t?”

He swallows hard. “He was a big guy, that’s why I got a beating.”

You don’t hold back your frustration. This is why you hate this - underground fights don’t have rules, save for some restricted parts of the body that can’t be hit. There are no regulations, the referee isn’t trained, there’s no medical staff, and no insurance for the fighters. Perhaps the only slightly humane part of it is they at least have tape on their knuckles and don’t fight bare, but that doesn’t mean Jungkook’s hands remain unblemished.

Quite frankly, you don’t know how he survives. He works at a club as a server and at a supermarket as a clerk, so his hands are his assets, but so is his face, given that his employers use his charms to ensure casual customers become regular ones. Especially at the club, where a simple smile can earn him a tip good enough for half a month’s rent.

He’s thankful for that club - for the tips and well, the connections; it’s how he got into underground fighting in the first place. Tasked to man the VIP booths, his quick reflexes and muscled arms caught the attention of one of the patrons who then recommended that he try the illegal act. “Spectators pay big money to watch someone get a beating so just do well and you’ll earn big,” was all it took for Jungkook to check it out.

The fighters are just like him - ordinary people who either have so much anger and frustration to let out, or backed in the corner by life and would do anything for a bit of cash. Not all are necessarily skilled. The shows are for the spectators who wouldn’t mind a lopsided match if it means they get to witness someone get beat up. There are crowd favorites, though, entertaining with skill or cockiness. Jungkook does both.

He’s always been a skilled fighter - he wasn’t the taekwondo captain for nothing. He also always enjoyed boxing and got into Muay Thai at one point, so while he’s not a professional, he’s considered a very skilled amateur. Very smart, too, as he uses mostly his legs and feet at the start and tires out his opponents until they’re exhausted enough to not be able to block his punches or fancy kicks. Jungkook’s got good stamina as well, so he barely gets tired.

That’s how he’s managed all these years to win most of his fights, and not be battered enough to still be able to go to work after 2 days and look almost good-as-new.

Jungkook notices that you haven’t dropped your phone yet and pleads to you once more.

“Please don’t call Jiyoung. I told her I quit.”

Your chest tightens again. You remember his younger sister begging for him to stop when she surprised him at his apartment some 2 years ago. Jiyoung had only started her pre-med course then, and it broke her to realize that her spot at university was at the cost of her brother’s own safety. She threatened to drop out if that’s how he was going to help pay for tuition, which resulted in him pleading her not to.

“Don’t be like me, Ji. Stay and finish, please,” he begged her.

You wanted to tell her that you tried all the convincing the moment you found out about this, but that nothing would change his mind.

He’s set on this, and it’d been fruitful, for him at least. It helps pay a portion of her tuition fee. It helped fund his parents’ restaurant renovation to make up for the years lost - that he caused, he always said - and helped them get back on their feet. They don’t need to know how he earns, just that he does. The lie of omission is easy for him to swallow.

Seeing as Jiyoung couldn’t get him to quit, she taught you how to treat him, and informed you of the signs that he needs medical help. It was never really bad; he’s got enough skills and strategies to make sure of that.

“___, please,” Jungkook says desperately. “I can’t have another person worry about me.”

So I get to carry all that burden myself? You stop yourself from saying. You don’t have the energy to argue with him. Perhaps he’s too tired, too.

“Okay,” you say, and put the phone down on the table. “Anything else I need to know? You sure it’s the usual pain? Nothing else unusual?” You ask.

“Usual pain in the same parts, nothing serious,” he responds, trying his best to affirm you with a half smile.

It doesn’t ease your worry though, and he knows this.

He makes a show for it by lying himself down on your couch, adjusting his position so his sore legs are rested on the pile of pillows. He smiles at you again, as if to say, see, I can do it. You roll your eyes and hand him a cold compress for his sore shoulder.

He insists on sleeping on your couch, although you never have the courage to invite him to your room, anyway. You wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that the man who has your heart in his hands without him knowing is laying on your bed, in pain, next to you, the designated best friend to heal his wounds.

You grab the blanket from the basket by your foot and cover him in it. “Good night, Kook. Let me know if you need anything.”

He nods and grabs your hand when you start walking back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, ___. I hate worrying you like this,” he says.

You sigh at his words. “But you do anyway.”

At this, he doesn’t reply.

It’s hard to sleep knowing Jungkook is sleeping just outside, probably wincing in pain.

This is a usual occurrence. Some fights are quick and last barely a round or two, leaving him with only sore limbs and minor cuts on the face that he can easily treat himself. He knocks on your door, anyway, knowing that showing up alive is the only way he can assure you that he’s indeed, not dead. Some fights, like tonight, are much more difficult to get over.

You don’t ask him to stop anymore. You’ve tried that before and it almost caused a wedge between the both of you. The fear of losing him again overtook the more logical part of you that won’t accept no for an answer. But you convince yourself it’s better this way, that at least you know what he’s doing, and that’s always better than not knowing.

He’s very stubborn after all. You wish he wasn’t, but it’s his stubbornness that made him go after you every single time in the past; it’s this quality of his that never gave up on you when you were close to doing that to yourself.

You get out of bed and check up on him. You watch his steady breathing, his mouth slightly parted, minimal movements as if there’s still discomfort. Some of the cuts have blood barely seeping out of their bandages; you’ll clean those up in the morning, you tell yourself.

You refill the water and place painkillers for his next intake. Your eyes travel over his body. Disappointment and hurt still bubble within you, but you’re thankful there’s a body there in the first place - alive and breathing. It hurts to think of a time he wasn’t around, or a time he’d been beaten up like this with no one to help him.

After you left for college - your parents having separated by then - Jungkook stayed behind to take a business course so he could be of use at his parents’ restaurant. You’d kept in touch then, daily messages keeping you both in the loop, until such time when school and your respective part-time jobs were draining you as well.

He was midway through sophomore year when he took over the closing shift from his father one night. It was the only positive thing Jungkook took from the whole experience, actually, because it could’ve been him - it could’ve been his father who was beat up when a bunch of lowlifes forced open the door upon closing.

But it was Jungkook who’d gone 5 against 1, with the guys sporting steel rods, hitting everything they could see - the mirrors, windows, the equipment, the newly delivered ingredients in the kitchen; Jungkook’s hands, too, if he didn’t give up the key to the cash register. They tackled him on the ground for it, and he’d been too helpless to fight back.

They trashed the place, broke whatever they could, and Jungkook’s parents’ dreams in the process. It was enough for Jungkook to blame himself for years to come. The business was already going downhill and then that happened - the very structure that symbolized the Jeons’ hard work was desecrated, throwing them in a deeper rut.

Jungkook dropped out of school and took multiple part-time jobs in Busan, much to the dismay of his parents. Once the restaurant was fixed, he decided to leave for Seoul after a friend of his recommended a club he could work at. He decided to wing it once he got to the big city, at first finding a bed space to crash into, and then finding multiple blue-collared jobs to save up enough money to send to his parents to keep them afloat, as the restaurant couldn’t easily bounce back.

With only a high school diploma under his belt, he had to rely on his physical strength to get jobs, until he settled on the store clerk position at the supermarket and as a server at the club where he still works. During those first few years, Jungkook never called nor picked up your calls.

You hadn’t even known all this until you graduated college, went home to visit your mother - the first time since you left - and dropped by the Jeons’ in hopes of seeing your best friend. You were instead met with his parents’ worried eyes and sobs when they realized you didn’t know what had happened, much more that you haven’t been in contact with their son for years. It took all of you not to fall apart at the news.

There was a reason, that’s what you always convinced yourself. You know him, he wouldn’t have disappeared from your life just like that. It was probably shame - no, definitely - at the fact that he couldn’t do enough to help his family. He most likely got too busy and didn’t want to disturb you; maybe lost your number and didn’t know how to reach you. You took it all in and just hoped that in the bustling city of Seoul, you’d find him.

It would take a couple of months for that to happen. No thanks to your breakup with your ex-boyfriend Sejun, your friends Taehyung, Jimin, and Aera convinced you to go to this posh club that you could never afford. Thankfully, the owner of the dance studio Jimin worked at also ran a club with his friend, which is why you got to enter in the first place. The music was good and the free drinks were delicious, but it was the sight of the all too familiar doe-eyes that caught your attention.

You’d snaked your way out of the hold of some guy to run to your best friend and gave him a hug, too elated to even say anything. You were afraid he’d push you away. He almost did though, as he said he couldn’t accommodate you at the moment as he was in the middle of work, and that’s when you took in his form - crisp white buttoned shirt, a bow tie, and a name plate, without which would have easily made you think he’s one of the patrons, not the one serving them.

You said you’d wait until his shift ended, which it did at 3AM. He wasn’t even sure you’d wait out for him and he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad that you did. He’d seen you earlier that night and did his best to avoid you. Seeing you brought him great joy, but also reminded him of why he walked out of your life in the first place.

He’d been ashamed, he eventually told you. That first meet up felt a little awkward, and it broke your heart to think that’s what had become of you after the years of walking to and from school together, the nights spent riding around on his bike or sitting at a park bench looking at the stars.

You never thought an air of unfamiliarity will ever suffocate you both after the years of talking about your plans in life and the dreams you had for yourselves and each other. Perhaps that’s why it was that bad - his life then was nothing close to what you’d both imagined for him.

You never thought he’d ever have a hard time opening up to you and it took time. After multiple shared meals, countless visits to the supermarket where he works, and numerous stakeouts outside the club to see him, he slowly but surely let you in again.

The shame, you’d found out, was because he knew the attackers at the restaurant. Their leader was the ex-boyfriend that Jungkook’s then-girlfriend left for him. The robbery was revenge because Jungkook had been “too cocky and up my ass to mess with dangerous guys like him,” he admitted. “I should’ve known better, I shouldn’t have put my whole family at risk like that.”

Your heart broke for your best friend, knowing he’d been carrying the guilt and shame for years.

“Why cut me out of your life like that?” You’d asked.

“I never wanted to, it just happened. But also, your life was taking off - you had a scholarship in a good university, a life sorted out… I didn’t want to take you down with me, not when you were already better,” he’d reasoned.

You wanted to tell him that you would’ve chosen any kind of life as long as it had him in it.

“You worked so hard to get better, to get to where you were; I wasn’t about to burden you with my own problems, the ones I caused. I…” he trembled then, disappointment in himself oozing through every fiber of his being. “I stopped being the person you looked up to, that could protect you, that you could lean on. I felt like I failed you.”

You cried to him that day, held him close and told him he would never fail you, that he’ll never disappoint you, that he would never let you down. That broke him even more because his next confession would probably cause you to eat your words.

It was that same night he told you about the underground fighting, how he’d only gotten into it a few weeks in, but what he’d won was enough to get him out of the dingy bed space he’d been living in and into a studio apartment in a relatively safer area of town.

Though a shock, you stood your ground. It was almost as if he was pleading for you to just give up on him, but you promised yourself you never would. You got to where you are because he came looking for you every time, because he always put the bottle down when you’d had too much to drink, because he never got tired of telling you that someday, things were going to be better. You weren’t about to give up on the person who’d caused you to hang on all these years.

It was your persistence that led to how you both are now, to the routine of midweek movies and every other Friday of tending to his wounds.

You’ve never watched, though; you know you can’t stand to see him get beaten even if you’re sure he’d win every time. It’s Yoongi and his other friends who watch the matches and give you updates, who drive him to your place because Jungkook only wants to be treated by you, who try to convince him to give up fighting but stand by his side either way, just to make sure he doesn’t lose himself in it.

It’s the lone tear that falls down your face that tells you that you’ve gone deep into memory lane again, one thing you promised each other you wouldn’t do. None of the what if’s, should have’s, and could have’s; none of the regret and guilt and heartbreak at the thought of those years apart.

Jungkook shifts on the couch and you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. He came to you tonight in one piece. With how things are going, that’s all you could hope for.

Jungkook wakes up to the incessant ringing of his phone, worsening the headache he’s had since last night, something he didn’t tell you.

“Hey, how are you?” Yoongi asks on the other line.

“You should know, I’m sure she called you last night, “ Jungkook responds.

“I’d know better than to ask you, because god knows if you’re lying to her or not. And based on the fact that she didn’t scream my ear off and begged me again to convince you to quit, I’m guessing you still are lying to her,” the older man says.

Jungkook hates that Yoongi is right.

“I’m just not telling her everything.”

“Still a lie of omission, Jungkook. Seems like it’s part of your repertoire now, too.”

“Save the scolding another time, okay? My head is still banging.”

“Okay, just saying. You wouldn’t want to lose her the same way you did the first time,” Yoongi warns.

“I swear to god, if you tell her —”

Shuffling sounds in your room cut him off.

“I won’t,” the other man says, then mumbles something akin to a goodbye.

Jungkook shuts off the phone and focuses on the sound again.

You might be awake. It’s 9AM and he wishes he could sleep more but he needs water and painkillers to make the pain go away. He’s thankful for those things in front of him as he rouses himself from the bed and steadies himself as he starts to walk.

He’s still sore all over, but he at least can do small movements and that should be enough to get him to move around.

He downs the medicine and his eyes land on the fancy-looking bouquet of roses on your dining table, the packaging probably just as expensive as the items themselves.

You don’t even like flowers, he thinks to himself.

He slowly walks towards your room on the other side, not missing the classy heels haphazardly placed there, perhaps from last night. Maybe you had one of those “dinners” with that Jin guy.

Jungkook’s steps are weak and unsteady, his feet dragging themselves while his left arm holds onto the wall or whatever he could find to direct himself to you. Your door is slightly ajar and just as he’s about to push it open to call you, the sound of your cries stops him in his tracks.

Since you’ve reconnected, he’d only ever seen you cry that night he told you everything, but never again after that - not when both your parents sent you apology letters as asked by their therapists, not when you lose some of the youth you work with to substance abuse, and definitely not when he’s lying bloodied underneath you as you tend to his broken face.

You’re not like high school you who cried at every single thing or memory. You’ve been able to manage your emotions, learned to be empathetic without exposing your own vulnerabilities, and had been able to control yourself when the tears started to fall. It helps with the job, you’d said.

But he’s hearing you cry now and it’s not just any cry - you’re sobbing.

“He —” you sniffle. “He, uhm.”

There’s a pang in his chest at the thought of that Jin guy possibly hurting you. He’s ready to fight him if that’s the case.

“He showed up so badly beaten last night, Aera. I’ve never” — you sniffle — “I’ve never seen him like that and I just wanted to hold him, to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this anymore.”

Jungkook could hear his own heart break at your words.

Him. You’re crying because of him.

Your words are muffled as you try to stop yourself from crying even more, to no avail.

“He just looked like he was in so much pain even if he wouldn’t say it and I… I couldn’t stand it. It was so hard to look at him.” You pause. “Obviously way harder than seeing him with his ex-girlfriends, and that was already really hard...”

Jungkook zones out after those last words. You never really talked about them. In the past 3 years, he’s introduced the 2 girls he’d dated, both of whom kept their distance from you - not to blame them though because you are his original girl - but you never seemed to have issues with them. You smiled and engaged them like normal. You only ever got upset when he’d eventually disclose the reason behind the break-ups but… to hurt you? You never said any—

“Jungkook? What are you doing? You should be lying on the couch,” you almost shout and you ready yourself to guide him back but he stops you.

“Why are you crying?”

“What?”

He supports himself with his arm against the wall and reaches out his hand to thumb away the tear that’s about to fall.

“Why are you crying?”

It dawns on you that you are, indeed, crying. You shouldn’t have picked up when your college best friend called because you knew you’d break down the moment she asks how you are. You should’ve waited until Jungkook was gone.

“One of the kids. It’s uh, it’s a hard one, Kook,” you force a smile, hoping he’ll drop it.

He almost does.

“Hug?” He asks, trying to not think much about what he heard.

But you’re crying and he’s still in physical pain.

“I’m okay, Kook,” you respond, willing your heart to stop its erratic beating.

He’s shirtless, with his black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The bruises on his torso have begun to appear, the ridges on his abs so tempting to trace, and the black ink decorating his arm up to his shoulders is so beautiful, you will yourself not to stare.

“I’m not, I want a hug. Please?”

And who are you to deny your stupidly gorgeous best friend, who’s looking at you like a child in need of attention, a simple hug?

You walk towards him and wrap your arms around his tiny waist. You inhale his natural scent with traces of sweat and blood, and place your head on the dip of his chest. He takes a while but he drapes himself over you, taking in the sweet smell of your rosemary shampoo.

He wants to tell you again he’s sorry, for everything this time, for all the things he’s done, and for all the things he’s yet to do.

You look up at him with a scrunched up nose, earning him a laugh.

“Yes, I’ll take a shower now.”

“Do you need some help?” You ask.

“I’m okay. I’ll call out if I do.”

You nod and let him go.

Jungkook savors the feel of the cold water on his body, but winces at the sting of the wounds that you’ll patch up and treat again. He’s making you go through this, and it hits him that he has been making you go through this for years. Just because you never cry in front of him, doesn’t mean it doesn’t break you. Well it does, and he feels the pang in his chest at that reminder.

You’re sifting through the tea and coffee aisle, trying to look for your brand of craft coffee. You can’t find Jungkook to help you, thinking he’s probably on a short break. You walk through the other aisles and find two familiar faces, the other clerks whom Jungkook has introduced you to.

You’re about to approach them and ask where your best friend is until you accidentally hear their conversation.

“I can’t believe Jungkook went against the ex-cop last week. And beat him! That guy was huge. Did you see his winning hook kick?” one of them excitedly says.

You try not to smile at the thought.

“Yeah! But his uppercut on the karate guy? So smooth. How did he have all that energy for two fights in one night?!” The other one says. “Jungkook’s insane, for sure.”

Wait, what?

You drop the cup noodles you were holding at the information that Jungkook fought twice that night he showed up battered at your apartment. You know he wouldn’t have let himself get that beaten up so easily. And that’s why. He had two matches.

You know they don’t do that, not when they have many fighters aching to have a go at it.

The sound startles both clerks and their eyes widen at the sight of you.

“___, hey!” One of them nervously calls out. “Jungkook’s just on a short break, he should be here—”

“Hey, ___, I’m here!” Says a familiar voice approaching you from behind.

You try to look for an escape and force yourself to change your reaction from a betrayed and upset one to another that isn’t that. But Jungkook is quick and is onto you in a second.

“___, did you need any— why is your face like that, everything okay?”

“You… you had two matches that night,” you look up at him and say, voice shrill and cracking.

You see the panic on his face.

“How did you know?”

There’s a pang on your chest at the confirmation.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I—” He looks around and knows it’s not the best time and place for this. “Can we talk about it tonight when I go over for dinner?”

You glare at him. “Will you tell me everything or will I have to force it out of Yoongi this time?” You ask with your arms crossed.

He’s done that before when he initially played off how the fights are. You were but a naive woman who blindly believed everything he’d said until you had your doubts and forced your elder friend to tell you the truth.

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

“Okay,” you say, and walk away empty handed.

Jungkook walks into your apartment after you let him in, with bags of groceries in both hands. He sets them on your coffee table and takes out the items you were supposed to buy - coffee, cup noodles, some potatoes and beef, eggs, and a bunch of other things he thought you’d like.

“You can’t bribe me into forgiving you after you lied to me, Jungkook,” you say with a stern look on your face.

Yet no matter how hard you try to show your disappointment, you’ll always soften at his presence. All he needs to do is flash his boyish, guilty smile and you’re done for. He knows this, too, because that’s exactly what he does.

“I’m not trying to bribe you but I am apologizing for lying. I didn’t know how to tell you. You were already so worried and I—”

“Because you were so beat up! And then I learn that it’s because you had two matches on the same night? That doesn’t even happen, right Kook? You’d never… oh god, don’t tell me it’s always been like that and you—”

“No, no! It’s the first time, I promise. It’s just—”

There’s no way out for him. Whether he lies or tells the truth, he’ll disappoint you. It’s bad either way.

“I was supposed to fight the week before that but I didn’t so the organizer got pissed and made me fight again out of spite but it got more people going to see an already beat up guy fight again and win,” he explains, a smirk forming on his face.

You glower at him as if to say it’s not the time to be cocky.

“Why didn’t you fight last—” your eyes widen at the realization. “I asked you to come to dinner with me and my dad, that’s why you couldn’t fight…” you say, suddenly feeling terrible.

Until it hits you again.

“Why did you have to fight the week before that, Jungkook?” You slap his arm. “You only fight every other Friday! That was the arrangement. Why are you doing it every week?” You exclaim, your voice getting louder by the word. “And since when?”

His body slumps on the floor. Now that he has to explain himself to you, it dawns on him how silly he was for even signing up to weekly fights. You’re right, it isn’t the arrangement. This was just supposed to be a side gig, a means to earn extra cash every once in a while.

“It’s just been two months,” he admits. “I’ve learned how to treat myself on the days I’m not supposed to…” He stares at the floor, the shame he feels suddenly becoming suffocating.

You don’t respond. You just look at him, the energy you thought you had to scold him suddenly dissipating. Now you just feel helpless.

“___, say something, please.”

“You said this wasn’t gonna be your life, Jungkook. You said I wouldn’t lose you to this world.”

“You aren’t! I’m still the same. I have it figured out. I still have the same hours at the club and the supermarket. Not much has changed, especially me.”

“Why do it, though?”

There’s a pause and a shift in the air.

“It’s my parents. Jiyoung said Dad’s cut off some of his maintenance medication, and they barely do anything outside of working at the restaurant. They said they’d get the ceiling at home fixed but they haven’t so it leaks when it rains,” Jungkook says, the hurt and frustration evident in his voice. “Her tuition fee is getting higher and I want to be able to cover it fully so that my parents won’t need to.”

You know how hard this is for him. His parents have always been happy people who enjoyed life and enjoyed what they did for a living. But knowing that they’re cutting back on other things hurts because of what they’ve given up because of him. If he hadn’t been cocky, the robbery wouldn’t have happened. Even if it’s been 6 years, the effect on his parents has been massive. Suddenly, they’re afraid to live.

You kneel in front of him and take his hands in yours. You need him to know that he doesn’t need to carry the burden of what happened anymore. He doesn’t have to keep punishing himself for something that he didn’t have control over. He doesn’t have to sacrifice himself for his family like this because you know, the same way he does, that they wouldn’t let him.

You tell him all this and all he does is apologize - to you, to his family… he doesn’t apologize to himself, though. You wish he would.

“I get it, Kook, but what about you? What about what’s good for you? You don’t get to do anything else other than work or fight, either. Is that really living for you?”

“But my priority is my parents, ___. That’s the whole point of coming out here, of working all these jobs, so I can save enough so they wouldn’t have to work too hard.”

“What about your college degree? Didn’t you say that’s why they could never promote you to a managerial position because you don’t have one?”

That much you know is true. He’s been working at the supermarket as a clerk for years, but despite how good and trusted he is, they couldn’t promote him, which is the same case at the club.

Jungkook has always been a good leader, very organized and analytical. His hard work always complemented his people and problem solving skills; add to that, his charms and level of empathy have always been why it was easy to trust him. He’s all that and more yet his supervisors, no matter how much they want to, just can’t give him a higher position.

He plays with his fingers as a way to distract himself.

You let out a breath and tip his chin up so he’s now facing you.

“You always had big dreams for the restaurant, Kook. Remember the blueprints and designs you used to make? The seasonal menus and catering that you wanted?”

“Yeah. Those were things my parents always talked about but never thought they’d have. I just don’t want them to think the restaurant will wither away when they pass, you know? Sometimes I think that’s what they’re thinking now - they’re running it just to survive, not to make it withstand time.”

Tears pool in Jungkook’s eyes and you wish for nothing more than for him to stop being disappointed in himself. You want to help pull him out of whatever hole he’s in where he’s constantly blaming himself, the way he did with you. You just want to be able to hold him close, absorb even just a fraction of the pain he’s going through.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed your best friend - the one who was always so excited about things, who had so much passion for life. It was never just about earning for him, it was always about doing something he truly loved. He’d grown up in the restaurant’s kitchen, learning the cooking from his mom, the operations from his dad. He was excited to one day take over and build it into what they always wanted, but now he feels that’s just but a dream.

The best friend you know would never give up on that, but somehow you feel he’s lost his sense of vision; now it seems it’s just about surviving.

The silence envelopes him and he lets the tears fall, your fingers ready to wipe them away. This is new territory for the both of you; it was always the other way around.

“Try to find other safer jobs so you can save enough, can you do that? I’ll help look for online courses or working-student programs in colleges nearby. It’ll take a few years to finish, but at least you can work on your skills as you go and a degree will definitely help with promotions and managing the restaurant,” you say.

He nods in agreement, his eyes softening at the thought of you helping him plan things out.

“One step at a time, okay? You don’t have to rush things. As long as there’s an end-goal, whatever it is, you’ll eventually figure out how to get there. You have me.”

He flashes you his toothy smile that you adore so much.

“Is this how you talk to the kids you mentor? How you get them to change their lives?”

“It’s how I try to help them. But you’re not those kids, Kook. You’re my best friend, and I can’t keep having you bloodied and bruised on my couch every week.”

He nods again, like a child being given strict instructions not to eat the cookies before dinner.

“And you can’t keep lying to the people who care about you. That’s how you push them away. That’s how you lose them,” you add.

This seems to hit him hard. It’s how he lost you in the first place; it’s how the once open relationship he had with his parents turned into a tense and distant one; it’s how the little sister who once looked up to him like her hero suddenly looked at him with so much sadness and pity.

He gets the message, and before you could stand up from the floor, he grabs your waist and wraps his arms around it. His head finds purchase on the side of your stomach as he slowly tightens his hold, as if he’s gonna lose you if he loosens his grip just a little bit.

You hug him back, your hands combing through his long hair. It feels so intimate, hugging each other like this. He’s never really been on the receiving end of your comfort. It was always you grabbing onto him tightly, always you silently pleading for him to never let you go; always you apologizing for your ways.

You and Jungkook stay there for a while until you tell him it hurts. He lets you go, albeit hesitantly, and it takes all of you not to melt into a puddle with his tender eyes and warm smile.

But you turn away before your thoughts go even further. He’s your best friend. Besides, there’s another man who seems more interested in being more than friends with you.

Jungkook tells you he’s making kimchi and bacon fried rice, his other means of apology, he says. You’re organizing what he’d bought in your cupboard when he asks, “Do you want to go to the Lights Festival with me this Friday? I won’t have a fight, I promise.”

“Oh I’d love to, Kook, but I have a date with Jin.”

“An official date this time? Not just dinner?” He asks, turning to you.

“Oh actually, his friend is throwing an engagement party and he asked me to be his date. He even insisted on buying me a dress but I said no,” you explain. “But I’m actually pretty excited to go!”

“Mhmm,” is all Jungkook says.

Usually he’s ecstatic when you agree to go on dates, especially when they’re with good guys and that much he knows about Jin, because you deserve to be taken care of and to be loved. Your exes have been okay, in his opinion, but he had a feeling that they didn’t treat you as well, like you deserve the world.

But as you talk about the party and the other actual date happening on Sunday at some lakefront restaurant, Jungkook can’t help but feel a pang in his chest at how excited you seem to be. He should be happy, but he suddenly can’t help but think someone else is giving you the happiness you want, and he hates that it isn’t him.

A few weeks later, you find yourself in probably the most comfortable and casual wear you’ve ever worn around Jin.

You heard that a traveling carnival was setting up in Seoul for a few weeks and you’d been so excited to go because you and Jungkook used to enjoy those small ones you used to have back home. You’d both done some menial jobs at his parents’ restaurant like organizing ingredients or wiping the utensils so you could get some money to spend on the rides and food.

You used to go to every dessert stall and try each thing on the menu. You’d go on the rides you're allowed to, and Jungkook would win you stuffed toys and stickers and keychains playing those carnival games; that’s where he spent most of his money on because he knew how much you loved them.

He was the first person you asked to go with you, not thinking Jin would be game for it. You just never really thought it was his thing. Plus, he usually spent his Saturdays at a golf course or a spa resort; it was his lifestyle after all. Not that you minded. Jin is one of the most thoughtful people you’ve ever met, always so courteous and accommodating, kind and patient, like you can never do anything wrong.

But Jungkook had begged off because of some side gig he picked up. Although you wish he could go with you, you’re glad that he at least stuck to his word about finding other jobs, no matter how small, and which are much safer than getting beaten up. His fights are back to happening just every other week, so he’s going for jobs that could somehow compensate for what he should be getting if he were fighting more.

It’s something he couldn’t completely let go of yet, that much he admits, not until he thinks he’s saved enough to cover at least a year of his tuition fee. It’s a welcome compromise, considering that he’s taking his return to college seriously.

Surprisingly, Jin invites you to the carnival. It’s set up on land owned by his family, you learn, that’s why he knew about it in the first place. You were excited to go and wouldn’t stop talking about the different desserts and pastries you were going to try, already warning Jin that you were gonna do exactly that. He was amused with your excitement and said he’d do whatever you wanted.

Which is why you’re standing in line at the bingsu stall, one of the last dessert concessionaires you have yet to buy from. Summer had gone but you don’t know why there’s a long line, which you noticed has been the case for a while, given that you kept passing up this stall because of it.

You wait patiently with Jin, engaging in conversation. That’s what you enjoy the most about him - he’s very intelligent, but not intimidating. Your talks always flow easily, and he’s very relatable, even if your jobs are worlds apart. He asks a lot about your work and he talks about his in a non-boring manner.

You like it, spending time with him like this. You can’t say you’re dating, but you’ve been doing a lot of getting-to-know-you stuff the past couple of weeks. You don’t want to immediately jump into a relationship just because he’s a good catch; you don’t want to just go into things for fun and get laid either. It’s been a while since your last relationship, but you’re still not in a rush. Neither is Jin, you figure.

You’re both so engaged in conversation that you don’t realize you’re next in line. That’s when you learn why the line had been long. There, preparing the shaved ice dessert, is none other than your best friend.

You laugh to yourself, thinking that his charms truly work regardless of the setting. You look at the customers down the line and realize they’re mostly women, too.

“Jungkook!” You couldn’t help but scream out loud. “You’re here!”

“Hi, yeah,” he says shyly, proceeding to prepare your bingsu that you didn’t even order yet. You don’t mind though, especially when he knows exactly the kind you want. “Sorry I couldn’t make it with you here.”

“Oh, not an issue! I wish I knew,” you say apologetically.

You turn to Jin and introduce the two, and you’re unaware of how nervous and embarrassed Jungkook feels.

“Hi,” Jin says, his hand out for your best friend to shake. “I’ve heard so many things about you. I’m glad I finally get to meet you,” he continues, his smile so genuine and pleasant.

“You, too,” Jungkook says as he returns the handshake. “What do you want to have?”

“Oh, no I’m okay. I’ve eaten too many sweets this whole day,” Jin laughs as he turns to you.

He hands out the payment to Jungkook and you don’t miss the uncomfortable look on his face. You’re unsure exactly why he looks that way, and your chest tightens at the sight.

“Do you have a break? Maybe you can come join us when you do,” Jin asks.

You look at your best friend, your eyes wishing for him to agree.

“Yeah, I’ll be on break in half an hour. I can maybe catch up a bit with you then,” Jungkook responds, an almost genuine smile painted on his face.

“Sure, sounds great!” Jin says, bringing you towards the direction of a popping balloon game.

You both stay in the vicinity, playing games and finishing your dessert. Jungkook peeks every once in a while and sees you feed Jin, sees you doubling over and patting his arm to laugh at what he’s saying. Jungkook sees you look up at Jin with nothing but a smile and a calm look on your face, and Jungkook suddenly realizes that he hasn’t heard that laugh ir seen that smile around him in a long while.

Even when you’re not treating his battered face and bruised body, even when he’s over for a movie and dinner, you’re always just worried, always have an apprehensive and tense look on your face. Recently, there’s been a smidgen of doubt, too, because you can never be too sure if he’s telling you the truth or if there’s another secret he’s hiding.

With Jin, you seem free. You’re not bound by responsibilities, not plagued with distress and concern. With Jin, you seem happy.

Jungkook doesn’t know why that suddenly makes him feel incapable, undeserving, inadequate; he doesn’t know why suddenly, the thought of you being happy with someone else worries and immobilizes him.

Half an hour later, you wave towards Jungkook to let him know the bench in which you’ll be waiting for him.

You watch him from afar, your heart softening at how tenderly he engages with a young customer. Jungkook has his signature soft, toothy smile and looks at the boy’s eyes when he talks.

You gush at the thought that Jungkook is meant for this; he’s meant to engage with people, meant to make them feel cared for even for that very short period of time, meant to accommodate their every need and never make them feel like it’s an inconvenience for him. He’s meant to make other people happy through food, whether he’s serving or making them himself. That’s the Jungkook you know.

Not long after, he jogs towards you and Jin, surprise laced on his face as he sits across from you and you push forward a plate and brown bags of various desserts, as well as a large berry shake.

“It was Jin’s idea,” you smile.

Jungkook turns to the man in question.

“She said you two would use up your money to buy all the desserts you could,” Jin shrugs, a shy smile adorning his face.

He wishes he doesn’t seem too forward or even pretentious, but you’re important to him, and Jungkook is important to you; it just feels right.

“Thank you, this is very sweet,” Jungkook says, and you all laugh at the pun.

The three of you engage in conversation until Jin excuses himself to go to the washroom, leaving you alone with your best friend.

“I still have my best friend privileges, right?” Jungkook asks.

You cock an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“So why am I not informed of… this,” he gestures towards you and the space next to you where Jin had been.

You laugh at his effort, but you know what he means.

“I told you, we’re just hanging out as friends,” you explain.

“A friend doesn’t take you to dinner and show up with an expensive bouquet of flowers, ___. He doesn’t take you to fancy parties and offer to buy you dresses. A friend…” Jungkook pauses and sees the flushed look on your face. “Doesn’t try to get your best friend’s seal of approval if he wants to be just friends,” he continues, munching on his 4th piece of mochi in the last 5 minutes.

He cocks you an eyebrow paired with a smirk, as if to mask the nervousness that he’s feeling at the thought of you possibly dating Jin.

“Look, Kook. Those flowers and fancy events are just staple for him, okay? Like I told you, we’re just getting to know each other, it’s nothing serious. We just happen to enjoy each other’s company and if there’s anything that springs from there, great! If not, then that’s fine, too. It’s just…” You pause.

You don’t want to make Jungkook feel bad with what you’re about to say, but it’s the truth.

“He makes me feel carefree, you know? Makes me forget how hard things are, like at work and stuff.”

And stuff. Jungkook aches at the words. He doesn’t think you’d have the heart to tell him, your best friend, that you’re finding comfort in another person because of him, because he’s one of the reasons why things are hard for you.

“Jin and I are just friends, Kook. I’d tell you otherwise, you know that,” you affirm him.

“I know, I just want to make sure he knows I can kick his ass if he tries to hurt you,” Jungkook says as he rolls up his sleeves to expose his forearms and prove a point, playing off the tinge of sadness and jealousy he’s starting to feel.

You laugh at his antics. “Yes, Kook. Jin knows what you do, and I’m sure he knows not to mess with you or me,” you say, playing off the tinge of sadness and longing you’re starting to feel.

Jin returns with a plush unicorn and hands it to a startled and confused you.

“I figured out the physics of knocking over those milk bottles,” he says, almost breathless.

You laugh at him. “Did you really?” You ask, not to doubt his capabilities but you know how rigged those games are.

“Okay, fine, I may have just hit ¾ of it and paid some amount to get the toy. I think the woman just felt bad for me,” he laughs, though you don’t miss the blush painting his cheeks.

You smile at him, your own cheeks starting to hurt a little. You hold the stuffed toy close to you and give him your thanks.

Jungkook looks at you and Jin, with the affectionate way the man is looking at you, and the way you return it, too. He’s sweet, caring, considerate, and ridiculously good-looking.

More than anything, he’s stable and secure; probably doesn’t give you a headache nor worry you to death, and definitely doesn’t show up at your place bruised and battered and barely breathing. He has so much to offer you, much more than Jungkook ever could.

Being best friends with Jungkook means that whenever he has a girlfriend, you’re bumped down the priority list. It’s more for your benefit, really, because his girlfriends tend to be petty and nasty when it comes to you. You suppose it’s natural, given your closeness with the man in question, and you never really minded.

The same goes with Jungkook, who’d always sized up your suitors in the beginning, intimidated them to make sure they didn’t hurt you, then gave you the space you needed. He gets bumped down the priority list and never really minds just the same.

Which is why he’s suddenly confused as to why he feels like a pouty, jealous little kid whenever you move movie night because you’ll be out with Jin, or when you’re preoccupied with your phone when you’re with Jungkook because you’re texting with your “friend,” or when he can’t bug you as much when you’re doing your grocery because another man is there with you. Yet you still claim that you aren’t dating.

What hasn’t changed, however, is that every time he knocks on your door with cuts on his face and bruises on his body, you’re still on the other side, ready to treat all his wounds, the ones you can see and the ones you don’t. He doesn’t even seem to mind getting even more beat up; that way you get to spend more time treating him, being close to him, a reminder that nothing much has changed. At least, that’s what he wants to believe.

You’re still your usual exasperated self when he shows up after a match, but you’re less somber, almost as if you’d just accepted that this is a staple part of your life and there’s nothing you can do about it. Jungkook may be fighting less, but he still fights.

Somehow you doubt if he’d be able to give it up, but it’s not something you let him know.

He’s picked up another part time job at a commissary though, and has shortlisted the colleges he intends to apply to, so at least you know he’s taking things seriously. You’re just worried that he barely gets any rest but like always, he just waves you off and tells you he can rest when he’s dead, earning him a smack from you, as he deserves because “you should never joke about things like that, Jungkook!”

Just as you’ve accepted this life of his, so has he accepted yours, more like the fact that he’s now second to Jin, although you constantly deny it. He denies, too, that it’s jealousy he feels, and he convinces himself that he just misses his best friend. That’s all.

Thoughts of you plague Jungkook’s mind. When you’re apart - especially when you’re with Jin - and even when you’re together. But it’s probably the first time it’s happened when he’s punching the living daylights out of someone on the mat.

Jungkook didn’t expect Iseul, his ex-girlfriend, to show up at the fights again. She used to be a spectator - that’s how they met; that’s how they got together, too. She watched every single one of Jungkook’s matches when they were dating, but was ironically too freaked out to treat his wounds; that was the only reason she didn’t mind that you did it. But after she left him with a voicemail saying she didn’t want to be with him anymore, there was no reason for her to come back and watch.

Except tonight, because apparently, she has a weakness for fighters, and there she was in her combat boots and red leather jacket, clutching the arm of the man Jungkook was scheduled to fight.

It was said he had been training in mixed martial arts and wanted to try underground fighting to “see what the fuss is about.” He obviously has money based on his accessories and Iseul’s as well, which she’s been shamelessly flaunting. That’s also probably why he, a newcomer, got to match up with Jungkook, a seasoned fighter.

The man made a show for himself, pulling up moves right before the match to show off his skills. Jungkook chuckled, as he’s used to these types of fighters. This should be fun, he thought to himself.

And it was, at least at the start. The man was quick but not as quick as Jungkook. He could throw a nasty punch for sure, but it’s nothing Jungkook can’t handle; he’s actually been enjoying himself.

He currently has the man on a leg lock when he catches sight of Iseul just a foot away, screaming and shouting that he could take Jungkook, spewing some more nonsense about how weak he actually is.

This spurs Jungkook on. “This is what you left me for, huh?” He says to her, the smirk on his face not faltering despite the constant movement of the man underneath him.

Iseul crosses her arms. “I left you because of your baggage, Jungkook, you and your directionless life and that damn best friend of yours who was so disgustingly in love with you, it was embarrassing.”

Jungkook, who was never the type to continue hitting a losing opponent, sees red. He pulls the man and positions himself on top of him and keeps punching, the anger at what Iseul said about him, and you, manifesting in violence.

He punches hard, even if he misses. Despite the deafening cheers of the crowd, he hears the cracks of bones and Iseul’s begging for him to stop. He sees teeth flying and blood, so much blood, that it takes the joint screams of his friends, Namjoon and Hoseok, for him to pause and absorb the scene before him.

This isn’t how he fights.

The man could barely breathe, and Jungkook is immediately declared the winner. Everything is hazy but he sees Iseul slumped over the man, her ear on his chest to make sure there’s still a heartbeat somewhere there.

More people come in and assist the unmoving body on the mat. Namjoon and Hoseok run to Jungkook, saying things that don’t register, then they start walking him to one of the benches to check his injuries.

He’s still in a daze, doesn’t even know he’s being wiped down and dressed, but he has half a mind to tell his friends to drive him home.

“Not at ___’s?”

“No,” is all he says. “Take me home.”

Every minute that passes that doesn’t have Jungkook knocking on your door, you feel like getting sicker. You could almost taste the bile that shouldn’t even be there. It’s past 11PM and your best friend hasn’t arrived. He hasn’t been picking up your calls, either, although he barely does after fights anyway.

It’s on the fifth ring of the fifth call that Hoseok finally picks up. You hear the rave music in the background, indicating he’s back at the club that he runs, which means the fight has been over a while. He and Namjoon never miss Jungkook’s fights; they’re the ones who bring him home when he’s unable to. Perhaps Jungkook isn’t all that battered that they didn’t need to take him to your place.

“Oh, thank god you picked up!” You say as the man calls out your name. “You didn’t drop off Jungkook at my place and I’ve been so worried.”

You’re met with silence, which is rare for Hoseok.

“He asked to get dropped off at his place,” he finally says.

“So he’s okay? Can patch himself up on his own?” You ask, the worry you’ve been feeling slowly dissipating.

You hear Hoseok release a deep breath and that worry comes back up again.

“Iseul was there with that 40-year old businessman she left Jungkook for,” he says, and your heart breaks for your best friend.

He really liked her; you’d cursed yourself multiple times for how jealous you were of her.

“Oh. Did he see her?” You ask, hoping he didn’t.

“Jungkook fought the man, ___. Iseul said some shit to him and before we knew it, he was punching the man’s face like a fucking sandbag. Like he was possessed or something. It took so much screaming from me and Namjoon for him to finally stop,” Hoseok replies, feeling even more guilty that he didn’t get to stop his friend much earlier. “He… he’s never been like that, in all the years we’ve seen him fight, ___. He’s never been that angry, that violent.”

You suddenly feel dizzy. This was the second thing you’ve always been scared of - you didn’t want to lose him to this world, to lose himself in the violence, in the anger. You’ve long figured out that aside from the money that he earns, Jungkook fights because he’s angry at himself. It’s been his form of release due to the guilt and shame he’s felt all these years.

You know that when he’s able to let all that go, he could walk away from this. That’s why you’ve been working on helping Jungkook come to terms with what happened 6 years ago and forgive himself; you know that would be the only way he’d quit. It wasn’t so much about the money; it was more about the violence he couldn’t inflict on himself so he let others do it for him.

He’s been able to keep himself in check; that’s what Namjoon and Hoseok tell you. They watch to make sure he doesn’t go overboard, that he doesn’t do something he’ll regret. That wasn’t the case tonight, apparently.

“You’re sure he’s just home?” You ask, pulling on your leggings and sweatshirt, readying to leave.

“Yeah. He kicked us out after we brought him up.”

“How bad is his face?”

“His face is fine. It’s… it’s his hands, ___. I don’t think he even realized he was punching the floor when he missed.”

You could hear the disappointment in Hoseok’s voice, like he’d let Jungkook down the same way Jungkook let him down.

“You’re the only one who can get to him, ___. Please help him.”

“I’ll try. Thank you. I’ll let you know how he is,” you respond.

You grab your medical kit and head out the door.

Steady knocks are what Jungkook hears from where he’s seated on the floor by his studio room’s entrance. He’s been sitting there for an hour since his friends dropped him off and he kicked them out. He didn’t mean to shout at them; clearly, they’d just been worried. But he was filled with so much rage, he couldn’t help it.

Iseul was right about him. It just hits differently when someone who hasn’t been a part of his life for over a year says it that way, but she didn’t have to bring you in, didn’t have to say that about you. That’s really what did it for him; no one gets to talk about you like that. After that, it was all about inflicting pain on the person she loves, that she left him for.

But her words still linger. You, in love with him? How did he not see it? He thinks back to when he overheard you crying to Aera about him months ago and there’s that same feeling again - a tinge of guilt, but maybe hope? Excitement? Is there still a chance?

The knocking continues but it’s when he hears your voice, calling out to please open up does he stand and unlock the door. The moment he does, he’s met with teary eyes and a sigh of relief. He sees your eyes widen and all but jumps when you drop your things on the floor and hug him tightly.

You don’t get mad, you don’t ask questions; you don’t even glare at him. You just stand there, your arms wrapped around his torso, muffled cries as you tighten your grip, and all he does is place one hand behind your back and have the other pat your head.

“I’m okay, ___. I’m okay."

You do your usual with Jungkook. You force yourself to steady your breathing, even when you spot the blood-drenched tapes wrapped around his knuckles. He winces when you unwrap and clean them, willing yourself not to scold him or break down at the sight, knowing that the state of his hands imply just how much he’d hurt the other person and himself.

He insists on taking a shower as you clean up and prepare the supplies. He sits down on his tiny couch after, pliant as you instruct him to lay out his hands and to not move.

You don’t meet his eyes - not when you clean his wounded knuckles, not when you help him put a shirt on, and not when you treat the cuts on his face. His eyes remain on you, though, and in the quiet of the night, with the droplets of the incoming rain the only other sound in his studio, you wish he doesn’t hear the rapid beating of your heart.

“Why won’t you look at me?” He asks.

He’s met with silence.

As you’re about to place the bandage on the area above his eye, he dodges you. You sigh in annoyance.

“___, why won’t you look at me?”

“I’m tired, Jungkook,” you respond, gently turning his face so you can place the bandage properly.

“Is that it?”

He seems determined to get an answer, his eyes boring into you with every movement you make.

“I can’t look at you without wanting to cry,” you finally admit, dropping your hands and rubbing your head with them.

You’re still lightheaded, and Jungkook staring at you isn’t helping at all.

“I can’t look at you without being upset, and scared, and worried.” But you force yourself to do so anyway. “Why do you do this to yourself, Kook? Why do you do this to me?”

He doesn’t miss the crack in your voice, the desperation slowly revealing itself.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?” You ask incredulously.

He nods slightly. “I didn’t wanna go to you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

You sigh at how silly he sounds, as if he doesn’t know you well enough.

“I worry anyway, Jungkook. I come anyway. I forgive you anyway.” You look at him and try desperately to find the man he once was. “Doesn’t mean you get to keep doing this; doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt me, too.”

Hurt you. That’s the second thing he doesn’t want after losing you. He tries not to do both but somehow, he thinks it’s all he’s been doing.

He has no words to say just how sorry he feels or how scared he is. So he pulls you in a hug, flushing your face on his thinly-covered chest. He holds you the way he has done so hundreds of times before, comforting you, letting you know that things will be okay, although this time, he does it, too, as if to beg you not to give up on him, something he never thought he’d ever ask of you because he never wanted to put you in a position where you would.

You stay there a while, the sounds of your heavy breathing now joining the droplets on the window. You try to listen to his heartbeat to steady your own but his is beating just as fast as yours is, if not faster.

Then he moves his hands to cup both your cheeks and he places a soft kiss on the top of your head. He lifts your face a little bit, his eyes drowning in yours, and he kisses your forehead, too. He meets you halfway until you’re both face-to-face, his eyes now darting down your lips as he licks his own, and your breath hitches.

His thumbs trace circles on your cheeks and his face is so, so close to yours. You can feel his warm breath glaze over your mouth as he inches closer and closer, and you just stay there, paralyzed. He pauses and any small movement from either of you could result in both your lips meeting. His eyes won’t stop moving from your eyes to your lips and he’s right there.

It’s his soft whisper of your name that breaks you out of the spell and then you turn your head away.

And just like that, the glass shatters.

It quite literally feels like something had been broken - his chance with you, maybe; he hopes it isn’t your friendship though. But it’s the sudden downpour of rain and the roaring thunder that forces you out of the daze you’ve both been in.

You stand up from the couch and head over to the window to see how bad the weather is. The lack of visibility outside tells you what you need to know. You mentally curse yourself as you try to figure out how you’ll go home.

Jungkook senses your distress. “Stay the night,” he offers. “It’s too dangerous out there.”

You have half a mind to take up his offer because the tension between both of you right now is so thick, it’s almost terrifying. You ask yourself if it’s even a good idea to stay over because of what just happened, how it felt like you were so close to crossing that line, but it had been raining hard recently and the last thing you want is to be stuck in an unmoving cab because of zero visibility.

You’re about to answer him when your phone rings. You look at the caller and move a little ways away and pick up the phone.

It’s pretty obvious to Jungkook who it is.

“Jin picking you up?” Jungkook asks after you put the phone down.

“No, he’s out of town. He told me to just stay over,” you respond, suddenly nervous.

“Your boyfriend okay with that?” he asks, fishing for confirmation of your relationship with the man.

“He’s…” you sigh, not wanting to go through this with him again. Even if you say Jin isn’t your boyfriend, which is the truth, Jungkook would just insist. “He told me it’s safer here than out there,” you finish.

Jungkook nods and you rush to the bathroom to wash up while he stays rooted in his place, his heart clenching at the non-denial of your relationship with Jin. He hates himself even more that he almost crossed a line with you when Jin is in the picture and he doesn’t want to be that guy. He doesn’t want to put you in that position, either.

He’s suddenly aware that there's no other sleeping area in his studio. He had been so close to kissing you and now, he’s gonna have to sleep next to you, on his bed. His double bed, to be exact.

Right on cue, you emerge from the bathroom and have the same realization as he just did. He beats you to stating the obvious though.

“You’re uh…” he motions towards his bed. “You’re okay with sleeping there with me?”

“Yeah. Not like we haven’t done it before,” you say nonchalantly.

You play it off as if it doesn’t bother you; that’s how you think you’ll survive tonight.

He lays to the right like he always does and you follow after, climbing under the covers with him. You’ve done this so many times before, and his bed back at his parents’ house is even smaller than this one, yet you’ve never felt this tense lying next to him. He’s so close but he feels so far away, even if there’s just a few centimeters between you two.

The rain continues its assault yet you hear Jungkook’s breathing loud and clear, as if it’s the only sound reverberating through the walls. He knocks out pretty quickly, thanks to the painkillers you’d given him. You wish you’d taken one as well; you’re in pain, too, after all.

You can’t sleep. A million things are running through your mind, and you’ve got other fears, too, like unconsciously wrapping your arms around Jungkook, or sleep talking and ending up making unplanned confessions, or getting so close to him and not pulling away this time if he tries to kiss you again.

Because that’s what he tried to do, isn’t it, you think to yourself. You didn’t dream the way he eyed your lips and tried to move closer. You didn’t dream his intense gaze on you the whole time and especially when he was so near you, something you’ve never seen on him. The question is why.

In all your years of friendship, Jungkook had never indicated he felt anything more. He never overdid calling you his best friend as if to mask anything or hide that you’re more to him than that. No lingering gazes, no questionable comments that may have double meanings. Everything he’d done for you meant nothing more than just being your friend and trying to keep you alive.

You, on the other hand, had given him your heart without him knowing he had all of it. It’s why you kept coming, why you kept opening the door, why you kept forgiving. What you realized in all those years apart is that at any given moment, you would drop everything for him. But the more you realized it was just friendship for him, it became easier, day by day, to forget what you truly felt. Or just accept and live with it.

His ex-girlfriend was there tonight. You don’t know what she said that may have triggered him, or perhaps he already had his heart set on revenge the moment he knew who he was fighting but you think Jungkook had just been confused. Maybe he didn’t really mean to try to kiss you. Maybe seeing what he’d lost did that to him. Maybe it was being reminded of a past he once had. Maybe it was seeing what he thinks he can no longer have.

Regardless, you had nothing to do with it. Like all the nights you’d treated him, Jungkook had been hurt; tonight was probably more emotional than it was physical. He seemed in a daze, probably coming down from the surge of adrenaline; maybe he won’t remember much of it.

The rain has subsided. All you can hear now are the humming of his air conditioner, his steady breathing, and his soft snores. He looks peaceful - a rare sight - and he’s still so fucking beautiful, it hurts. He’s knocked out cold, and you’re glad he is. That way he won’t notice you rise from the bed, unlock his door, and slip away.

It took a few days but Jungkook finally sent you that much-deserved apology, although in an undeserved way because you definitely deserved more than an “I’m so sorry for everything” text message.

It’s what he wanted to say but not how he wanted to say it. He is sorry for everything - that seems like a safer way to put it. Listing it all down will just cause him panic once he realizes you have all the reasons to walk away from him and he wouldn’t be able to pull out the “best friend card” and ask you to stay.

He shouldn’t deserve your forgiveness but you give it anyway.

“It’s okay, Kook,” you replied. “Take care of yourself.”

No snide remark, no nagging, no plans to see each other again. No affirming or encouraging message. Why does it seem so final?

After that, there’s radio silence on both your ends. You don’t message about movie night and don’t do your grocery shopping during your usual time; he’s stopped showing up at your door, too - beaten up or not.

It was one drunk night when his loose fingers shot you a text - Hey, wanna hang out? He didn’t even mean to send you a message but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt him when you didn’t reply.

It was a drunken morning though, when he received a message from you of a link to an announcement that applications for this one college have started, and he’d been too bitter, too ashamed to respond. He didn’t think he was stable enough for that. You’ll definitely be disappointed again, seeing as he’s not keeping his word about going back to school. That and because he’s been fighting every week again.

He’s just glad he recovers fast so he doesn’t lose too many days to get the swelling down, but that also means needing to pick up more shifts at the supermarket. That’s when he sees you - Friday after work, with Jin by your side.

You’re holding hands, and that’s the only confirmation he needs. That’s why you haven’t been calling, Jungkook concludes. His heart hurts at the sight more than he expected, but he convinces himself that it’s just an effect of being away from each other for over two months.

“Sure, Jungkook, you just miss her. It totally has nothing to do with the fact that there’s this really good, stable guy who’s so right for ___ and you’re not at all afraid that it might be too late for you,” Yoongi points out.

He presses the alcohol-soaked cotton on the cuts near Jungkook’s scalp and the younger man winces at the pressure. Yoongi is definitely not gentle like you, in more ways than one. But Jungkook will take it though. His friend is now his designated nurse, seeing as he’s too much of a coward to go knocking at your door.

Yoongi doesn’t tell him that you still wait every week for Jungkook though, making sure you’re still home by 10PM even after your dates with Jin. Yoongi doesn’t know how Jungkook will take it.

Hearing his fear verbalized doesn’t sit well with him so he deflects. “What are you on about, Yoon? ___ and I are just best—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Jungkook,” Yoongi glares at him and proceeds to bandage the remaining cuts on his face.

Jungkook sighs. “It’s true, though. You know how hard it was for her during those years. I couldn’t just let her go through all that on her own,” he says, recalling all the nights he had to search for you after you called him crying, telling him you don’t know where you are. “And how hard it’s been for me, too. It’s natural for best friends to be there for each other, you know?” He continues, trying his best to convince the man and himself.

“You seriously think there’s nothing more? On either end?” Yoongi asks, partly in shock, partly annoyed. Jungkook is seriously being a pain in his ass, in more ways than one.

Jungkook remains silent. Months ago, he would’ve been so sure of his answer, which would’ve been a hard no - there’s nothing more, at least on his end. How he’s been feeling the past weeks seems to be countering that.

Yoongi picks this up.

“You walked out of her life, disappeared for 3 years, and the first thing she does when she sees you is give you the biggest hug because you’re safe and alive. All these years of you doing your fighting shit, all you had to do was show up at her apartment in one piece and she’d forget just how upset she is with you. Despite the lies, she covers up for you to your parents because you can’t even give them a damn call.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is, you’re a hard person to love, Jungkook. But she does anyway. All she’s ever cared about was your safety. Heck, she has more regard for it than you do, but you just… find ways to hurt her. And now there’s this really good guy who treats her so well and you’re bitching because you “just miss” your best friend.”

Jungkook dwells on this a little longer than he wants.

“It’s give and take. I did that for her before, she’s doing the same thing with me now… or did,” he convinces himself.

“Let’s say that’s true, and she was also a difficult person to love back then. Why did you always come running? She was running away every week, Jungkook. You never got tired.”

Yoongi is met with silence, so he continues. “You chose to be there for her, you chose to run after her. Every single time.”

“I couldn’t lose her, Yoon. I couldn’t lose her to her demons. Every time she called, I just had to show up. Even if it was tiring, I just had to; I had to let her know she always had me.”

“And she listened. She stopped running away. She stopped burying herself in the pain. Why can’t you?”

Yoongi changes his stance and crosses his arms. “Why is it so hard for you to walk away from this life? And why are you still denying what you really feel about her?”

Jungkook shifts in his seat. He’s been trying to convince himself it isn’t anything more, despite all the signs stating otherwise, because he doesn’t want to deal with the implications or consequences. But Yoongi has always been perceptive, observant, and pretty damn scary.

“Don’t think I don’t notice how you constantly try to get updates about ___ and Jin from me, how you engaged less when he was around, how you’ve been insecure ever since he became a staple in her life,” the older man continues. “And you were never insecure, not when it came to your place in hers. You were always so sure of what you meant to her, of what she meant to you.”

Both men let the silence linger.

There’s been this gnawing tightness in Jungkook’s chest every time he thinks about you; he hasn’t realized it’s been going on for a while. It heightened that night when he almost kissed you.

That was the thing - he wanted to; he couldn’t stop thinking how good it would feel. But you pulled away when he was so close and he’s glad you did because he wouldn’t have been able to stop if you let him. You both would have crossed a line he wouldn’t have been ready for.

“It wasn’t easy deciding to cut her off from my life those years ago, but I felt too much shame to keep her around,” Jungkook finally answers. “It’s because I knew I wouldn’t be the best friend she needed, that she deserved.”

Yoongi sits back down on the coffee table and levels with Jungkook.

“I woke up that morning after the fight and she was gone, and it hit me like a fucking truck out of nowhere. I can’t live without her,” Jungkook states, recalling the ache in his chest at your empty side of the bed. “I always knew that but that morning, it was different. There was this desire for her, but there was shame, too, realizing that I can’t be good for her the way I want to be. I can’t be the partner she needs, much less deserves,” he finally admits.

It’s this vulnerability that Yoongi always thought Jungkook was scared to feel that’s slowly revealing itself.

“What can I possibly be for her? What can I possibly give her?” Jungkook asks, his head buried in his hands at the reminder that there’s really not much he can offer you.

You - the girl who’d fought through her own fears and struggles to be better; you, the woman who turned her pain into her desire to be other people’s anchor, to give them guidance, comfort, hope; you, the stubborn woman who wouldn’t give up on anyone - not on the young people she helps, not on him.

“You can start by giving her a peace of mind, you know? A life where she doesn’t have to worry about you all the time, where she’s not always scared that her best friend will be left for dead in some alley,” Yoongi offers. “How can you give her the good she deserves if you don’t even think you deserve that, too?”

Somehow, this hits Jungkook like a ton of bricks.

“You’ve paid your debts. You have nothing to prove anymore. You can walk away from this life because if you don’t, there’s more to lose than just your fucking pride.”

You cocoon yourself with the thick blanket, rock yourself as you're seated on the corner of the couch, and count to 10.

It’s one of those cases again that hits close to home — Do-yun, one of the kids you counsel, informed you that his parents disagreed with undergoing family therapy, said they didn’t believe in it. You heard the defeat in his voice, but he played it off and said he’ll be okay; he just wanted to call you before he called his best friend.

That at least made you smile. You always emphasized to the kids the value of having a support system; you’re glad he’s able to find his, the way you did when you were 12.

Well, you found the core of your support system at age 12, although you’re not so sure about that now. You haven’t seen Jungkook since that night you last patched him up and left his studio before daybreak.

Communication has halted, too. It’s safe to say you’re avoiding him, and with his actions that night that left you feeling anxious about your feelings for him, you think it’s the right decision, at least for now. You convinced yourself he’d acted out of reflex, that he didn’t really mean whatever he was attempting to do.

Jin wasn’t convinced though, as you narrated to him the events of that night. You’d been shaken up and he’d been understanding. But perhaps it was what he needed, as the fear he felt at the thought of losing you to another man was what made him realize what he really wanted, and that was to be with you.

You never confirmed nor denied to him what you felt for your best friend, but Jin is a perceptive guy, you suppose he’d picked it up, that’s why he asked for a chance - “be with me and let’s see where it goes,” he’d said, and you agreed.

You’re on the third round of your count to 10 when you get the call. At the words “Jungkook” and “hospital,” your mind goes blank; you don’t hear anything else after.

You feel rather dramatic, running towards the entrance and forcefully pushing open the hospital doors, frantically asking the nurse for where Jeon Jungkook is currently staying. The nurse directs you and you try to run, but fail, anxiety overtaking you at the thought of what you’ll see.

Your knees weaken at the sight of your best friend lying limply on the bed, his head wrapped in a bandage, his right shoulder in a cast, cuts and bruises decorating the rest of his face and arms. You’re not sure you want to know what else is broken.

There are hundreds of thoughts running through your mind as you rush towards him and meet his apologetic gaze. He looks terrible, but he’s alive. That’s what matters.

You swallow hard and graze your fingers over his left arm. If he hadn’t been on morphine, Jungkook’s sure he would’ve felt goosebumps all over. You slot your hand in his left one and your thumb traces circles over his. He wishes he could feel that, too.

“You breathing okay, Kook?” You ask, your voice so meek and soft, he breaks at how weak you sound.

He thought that at the sight of what you fear the most, you’d be hysterical, but you still surprise him with your gentle treatment of him.

“Yeah,” he replies groggily. “I—” he tries to speak more.

“Hey, hey. No need to talk, Kook.” You say, shushing him and continuing to rub circles on his hand. “Just rest okay?” He nods. “I’ll just be here.”

Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi, whom you assumed watched the match and took him to the hospital, all leave you to be alone with Jungkook. You stay there by his side and continue to soothe whatever part of him that isn’t wounded.

“Stop being a stubborn pain in the ass, Kook,” you teasingly tell him, as he constantly tries to talk and shift so he can look at you better. “You’re a literal mummy right now. Just stay still,” you giggle.

You both know you’re just trying to mask the fear and worry with your playfulness. He indulges you by teasing and laughing along - or whatever sound he can make that resembles a laugh. He supposes this is better than seeing you sob at his literal brokenness; he’d take anything over seeing you cry.

The guys peek inside and you motion for them to come back in, as Jungkook had just fallen asleep. You take a deep breath and prepare yourself.

“What happened?” You ask, your voice now shaky, your mask now off.

It’s Namjoon who speaks up first. “He fought his last match and some people weren’t happy.”

“His last?” You ask, trembling.

“He’s been talking about quitting for a while but he still needed cash so, uh…” the man continues, unsure if he should tell you. “He was fighting every week again, but he’s been losing more than usual recently. Some patrons were accusing him of throwing the matches and obviously weren’t happy.”

“Well, was he?” You ask.

But you know Jungkook wouldn’t; regardless of the legality of what he does, you know he’d do it in a dignified way. He’d never get involved in such mess.

“No, of course not,” Namjoon confirms. “Well, that’s what he says at least. He’s just been so out of it lately, so unfocused, even at work, that’s why a bunch of those who bet on the fights were so angry because they thought he was losing on purpose. And then when the organizer announced it was his last match right after the fight, well… they thought he’s quitting now after he’s got his cut.”

Jungkook only had a busted lip and a couple of bruises after the match, they said, but those people who beat him, and ironically had been cheering for him, made sure he ended his final night with dozens of stitches on his head, a broken shoulder, a couple of broken ribs, abdominal trauma, gashes on his arms, and a wounded pride.

“He could’ve taken them, ___,” Hoseok, this time, claims. He was there, too, but he was being held by the other guys; all he could do was shout for them to stop. “They couldn’t even fight and he could’ve easily beat them, 5-to-1, but he just kept taking the hits. He let them beat him up.” Hoseok clenches his fists at the thought of being so helpless that time.

You take this all in and force yourself not to cry; you know you won’t stop once you do. You don’t have the energy for that right now.

“Why didn’t he fight back?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, ___,” Yoongi finally speaks up. “You asked him not to lose himself in the violence. I guess he’d rather be at the receiving end than be the bearer of it.”

He clutches your shoulder to give you comfort. “That or he felt like it was the only way to make up for everything he’s done.”

You spend the night by Jungkook’s side, the nurse assigned for the graveyard shift asking you to transfer to the couch because your head was falling off the side of the bed.

The guys visit again, so do your own friends. Jungkook comes and goes, being awake for an hour and then falling asleep for a couple more after. The doctor says it would take several weeks for him to fully recover; he needs complete and undisturbed rest from here on out.

You take charge of the paperwork. You list down the things Jungkook might need and where they’re placed so Yoongi can pick them up from his apartment. You talk to your best friend when he’s awake and watch TV silently with him so he doesn’t spend his energy speaking or moving around. You hold his hand the whole time, too.

It’s the next evening when Jungkook wakes up to your muffled cries. Since he got admitted the night before, he sees you try to hold back your tears and at some point, he wishes you’d just cry even if he hates seeing it; at least that way, you get to release your emotions.

He’s glad you finally get to do that but wishes he could hold you when you do, hug you and rock you until you calm down, count to 10 or 20 until your breathing steadies.

But of course, someone else can do that for you now. Jungkook turns his head to see you flushed against Jin’s chest, his one arm on your waist, the other rubbing circles on your back.

“I should’ve called him, I should’ve done more to convince him to quit earlier. I…” you cry to the man.

“It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not his, either. There are just bad people out there.” Jin lifts your head and kisses your forehead. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll take care of him. I can use my dad’s connections to get the police on this and find those guys. Or maybe hire a private investigator or—”

Jungkook winces and you and Jin turn to him. You immediately wipe your tears and run towards him.

“What hurts?” You ask worriedly.

“Nothing, I’m okay,” Jungkook answers, now able to form clearer words.

He turns to Jin. “Sorry for dragging you into this but you don’t have to do all that. They might just do something worse next time,” he explains and gestures to you.

Jin understands and nods, and the topic is dropped immediately.

“I got you both some snacks,” he digresses and hands you a bag of fruits and desserts. He turns to Jungkook. “I got you some herbal teas and other things I could find for your recovery,” he says, genuine concern painting his face.

You and Jin begin to set up the table for Jungkook to eat as his own food arrives, and he’s thankful that at least Jin isn’t angry at him for stressing you out again. He’s kind and compassionate like you.

Jin isn’t like him - troublesome, stubborn, a complete mess. Definitely nothing like you deserve.

Jungkook stays in the hospital for over a week, as he has to finish the round of antibiotics and have the doctors be sure that there are no infections on his wounds. It’s a little awkward during the last day when the physician suggests to you, in the presence of your boyfriend, that Jungkook should stay with someone and can’t be left alone, as he’d be unable to tend to his wounds on his own.

As the one who’s been there the whole time and the one who’s been taking notes of everything, it seems pretty obvious that someone would be you.

“You should have him at your place, ___,” Jin says. “I don’t think there’s any other option.”

You look at him, eyes wide as if to ask if he’s sure. You know Jin can sense things; he’d known about that night at Jungkook’s place, he knows you’re your best friend’s weakness.

“You’d be too worried and distressed if he’s not under your care anyway, so why not just have him stay with you? It’s more practical that way,” he continues. “Is that okay with you?” He asks Jungkook.

Your best friend can only nod but wonders if it’s even okay for Jin.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves off, as if reading both of your minds. “You’ve been taking care of each other for years; I won’t get in the way of that.”

It takes a whole lot of effort from everybody to ease into an arrangement of caring for Jungkook.

You’ve only been able to bargain physically going to work thrice a week, so on those days, Yoongi is tasked to stay with Jungkook. Since Hoseok owns the club, he doesn’t mind Jungkook missing work. The manager of the supermarket where he works has been very understanding, too, and allowed him to be off for a few weeks, with some of his co-workers taking turns covering his shifts.

A part of Jungkook hates this, that so many people have to adjust to him, making him regret that he didn’t fight back. But you’re there, as always, to remind him that people are going out of their way because they care about him. He’d gone out of his way for his friends and colleagues so many times before, too; they wouldn’t have done it if they didn’t think Jungkook deserves the help.

He sleeps on the bed while you sleep on the couch, which you don’t mind because you fall asleep there anyway. Jin comes over every few days with food and you three, oddly enough, all eat together when he does. You’re just glad that both men get along with each other; you just wish you weren’t so torn about them, too.

Because try as you might, you just can’t shake off the feeling for your best friend that’s resurfacing, no thanks to the fact that he’s been living under your roof the past few weeks. You’ve gotten back into your old groove of things, just that you’re seeing each other everyday now.

There are movie nights, simple home cooked meals - care of you - talking and staying in silence like old times, and laying in bed just looking at the ceiling like before.

Jin has been understanding, like always, not minding at all that your weekly dates are now resigned to your living room, with your best friend lying on your bed on the other side of the wall. You’re preoccupied, like always - Jungkook is stubborn and wants to do things on his own so you’re always on high alert for any shifting or ruffling sounds.

But Jin agreed to this arrangement; he’s said sometimes he even feels like he’s intruding. But like you always do, you assure him that it’s okay. You’re thankful that you get to be with him while also being available for your best friend.

Jungkook goes through his own agony as well, wishing that he convinced Yoongi to take him in instead. Because everyday, you’re the first person he sees.

You check on him for any signs of pain, give him his medication, tend to his wounds, and serve him his food. You stay with him in the room when you work on reports and let him hum to you after your online counseling sessions with the kids. You talk to him about random things, reminisce with him, and cover for him to his parents, who have been so happy at how much time you’re spending together.

He sees just how close you’ve become with his mother, seeing as you’re the one who assures her that he’s okay when she’s unable to reach him. You’re the one who listens to her talk about updates on the restaurant, the one who entertains her with your own stories so she won’t think much about how much she misses her son.

The only reason Jungkook doesn’t pick up her calls is because other than you, his mother is his weakness. When he’s down and missing home so much, all she has to do is say, “come on honey, tell me what’s bothering you,” and he’s sure he’ll break down and tell her everything.

And he can’t. There are too many secrets, too many failures. This whole thing is probably the biggest secret of all. The fact that you could be there for him and get the phone at the sign of a confession makes Jungkook think that this arrangement is okay.

But still, every night he knows you’re lying on your couch, and he wants nothing more than to have you next to him instead so he can listen to your breathing, feel your presence, and hopefully, hold you close to him.

You don’t talk about the almost-kiss, and you don’t mention his quitting from the underground fighting, and especially getting beaten up. But the closer you two get again, the farther away you feel from him. There’s fear creeping in and he might regret this, but he also can’t keep going without telling you.

“We never talked about that night,” Jungkook says as he watches you go through your clothes.

“Which one?” You ask nervously.

“The night I got beat up,” he responds, knowing that talking about the night at his place might not be a good entry point.

“I don’t really like recalling getting the phone call I’ve been fearing for the past 3 or so years and finding your limp body on a hospital bed, Jungkook,” you turn to him. “I didn’t hear from you for months and the first sign I get that you’re still alive, I have to see you fighting for your life.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve apologized properly for that but,” he says, walking slowly towards you.

You meet him in the middle and sit him down on the edge of your bed.

“I stayed away because I was mad at myself,” he explains. “I got beat up because I walked away from that world, and I walked away because I was hurting you, and it scared me that at some point you’d get tired of it, that you’d get tired of me. And then I’d lose you because I was too stubborn and proud. And you know that’s the one thing I can’t ever let happen.”

It was like word vomit, and you figure he’s been holding that in for a while. Just as you’re about to tell him that he won’t lose you because really, you’d never let that happen too, he starts again.

“I can’t live without you, ___,” he says, taking your hands in his.

You’re taken by surprise but you steady yourself.

“You can, Jungkook. You did.”

For three fucking years, you don’t say.

“And look what happened. I lost my way. I fucked up. I—”

You see him struggling with his feelings for the first time. He’s never really been like this. He was always sure of what he wanted, what he felt, and was always independent and sure of himself, even if he knew he wasn’t making the best decision.

“Kook, you can live without me,” you say, gripping his hands this time.

“What if I don’t want to? If that’s what it’s like to be without you, I don’t want that, ever.”

He thinks back to waking up that morning with you gone from his side and the sudden realization of what could be if he didn’t get his shit together, if he remained scared of what he really feels.

“I don’t like myself when you’re not there, ___. I don’t like myself when I’m not with you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. A part of you wishes that this is the confession you’ve been waiting for for years, but a part of you also wishes he’s just speaking as your best friend. You have to think about Jin and your future with him, and—

“___, say something, please.”

You open your mouth to speak but are sidetracked by the text message from your boyfriend, saying that he’s on the way to pick you up.

You sigh, knowing this conversation would have to wait.

“I have to get ready, Kook. I told you I’m going out with Jin tonight. You’ll be okay?”

Jungkook feels like his world is crashing down. Maybe it’s not the confession you were expecting but to him, the only thing that’s been clear during this whole ordeal is that he can’t be without you. Not just that he can’t lose you but that he doesn’t think he can live remotely close to a good and worthy life without you. But he can’t force you if it’s not a conversation you want to have right now.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he responds, silently preparing himself for the time he’d be without you again, not knowing how you feel.

You stand up to get dressed and when you finish, you come out in a formal dress, catching Jungkook’s attention. Of course you look stunning; he’d never realized until now just how beautiful you are.

“Fancy restaurant?”

“It’s just some Ball,” you shrug. You grab your purse and level your face with his. “Call me for absolutely anything,” you say, to which he responds with a nod.

Jungkook remains seated on the edge of your bed, trying to get the image of you in that dress out of his mind. He hears the door open and Jin’s voice greeting you.

Your bedroom door isn’t closed all the way. Jungkook hears you mumble something to which Jin replies, “don’t worry, ___. My parents will love you, I’m sure of it.”

And again, Jungkook’s heart breaks. You’re meeting Jin’s parents. Jungkook knows you’ve been dodging that meeting but it seems like you finally agreed. If there’s any tell that things are serious, this is probably it.

Jin peeks in the room and greets him, and Jungkook absolutely hates just how good Jin is. Is Jungkook really going to come in between you and someone who also deserves his own happiness? Because god knows that Jin deserves it, too.

Jungkook greets him back and once he hears the front door lock, he breaks down, his face soaking in tears, his hands shaking, and his chest constricting at how much pain his heart feels.

It’s a few hours later when he’s washing up in your bathroom that he feels a numbing pain in his leg, causing him to lose balance and slip, his rear falling flat on the floor. He tries to stand, his arms straining as he tries to push himself up, but he hasn’t regained his upper body strength yet, making his efforts worthless.

He tries and tries but the pain worsens, spreading to his arms, then his chest, then his neck. His face strains at the exertion. He looks around helplessly, then realizes he has his phone in his pocket.

Call me for absolutely anything, you said, and he retrieves the device, fingers ghosting over your number.

But you’re probably having fun, probably in the middle of talking with Jin’s parents and impressing them. You’d come if he asks and he wouldn’t want to disturb what little time you get to have for yourself and Jin, especially knowing how much of a bother he’s been to you both.

So he stays there, his back on the wall, legs stretched out and in pain, heart slowly breaking into tiny pieces once more. He feels the tears burn his eyes, not so much from the physical pain, but from the hollow feeling and numbing ache at the thought of not having you by his side, the way he wants you to.

He’d realized too late what he feels for you, the overwhelming desire to be with you suddenly too much for him. You’ve been around for half of his life. Even when you weren’t, there was that faith in your friendship that one day, things were going to be okay again and that you’d be together once more.

But this is different. He wants you, all of you. But in his condition, and yours, he’d be an idiot to hold you back from the happiness you deserve.

It must’ve been an hour of him sitting there, his mind going hazy, until his head jerks at the sound of the door opening. He hears you call out his name.

You panic once you open the door, your heart leaping off your chest at the sight of Jungkook, helpless on the floor.

“Kook, what happened?! Are you okay?!” You ask, crouching down to check his arms or face for any wounds.

“I’m okay, I just lost my balance. Don’t worry,” he plays off, turning to you with a weak smile.

You sigh and call your boyfriend for help, because of course he would come in worried and immediately help Jungkook up the floor. His limp body finds support in both you and Jin, and you take him to the bed and you pull the covers.

“You should’ve called.”

“It had just been a few minutes,” he lies. “Plus, I didn��t want to disturb you.”

You look at your best friend, lying in bed so weakly, your heart tightening at the thought of what he could be going through.

You give him a sad smile. “Call anyway.”

It’s been over a month since Jungkook has been under your care. His stitches have been removed, he’s able to move around better now, can remember and track all his medication, and can treat the other wounds on his own. Given those, he tells you one evening that he’s ready to go back to his own place, insistent that he can take care of himself.

He tells you that he’s been making arrangements at the club and the supermarket to take desk jobs for now, until such time that he’s closer to being physically 100% capable of doing his previous tasks. His employers agree, just happy that he’s okay and can go back to work soon, even if it’s also just for minimal hours.

You’re a bit hesitant to let him go and you convince yourself it’s because you’re not so sure yet if he’s really able to take care of himself. You tell yourself it’s not because you’ll miss having him around everyday, not because you’re scared that when he walks out of your apartment, it isn’t going to be the same between you and him again.

You agree either way, with the look you give him as he exits your apartment a plea not to allow you to lose each other again like before.

He told you that he can’t live without you. That still plagues your mind, especially after he’d drunkenly called you three weeks after he left, telling you the same thing and rambling that he wants you because you’re so good to him, because you treat him so well, because you take care of him.

“Want me for me, Kook, not just for what I can do for you. Because anybody can do that, anybody can be good to you and take care of you. And if I can’t do whatever that is anymore, what happens then?”

You were met with silence on the other end until you heard Yoongi in the background telling him to stop drinking and sleep. You were glad he’s probably too drunk to remember; you hate yourself enough to even respond to him, knowing that you have Jin.

You two are still good. Quite frankly, you’re unsure of what exactly has changed in your relationship since he asked you to give him a chance, except for the hand holding and kissing and briefly meeting his parents during the Ball where they barely even had time to converse with you.

Jin feels the shift in the air but braves through it. He knew what he was getting himself into when he started dating you, aware and understanding of your friendship with Jungkook. That’s why it took Jin a while to be serious with you - in a way, he wanted to know what he was up against; he wanted to get a feel of what’s really going on with you and your best friend. It’s also why he suggested Jungkook to stay at your place - Jin had to know.

He meant it when he said he wouldn’t come in between you and Jungkook. He knows your history and how neither of you would be where you are now if you hadn’t taken care of each other the way you have, the way you continue to. He’d be selfish to deny your need of looking after your best friend; that’s what he admired about you, after all - you’re caring and compassionate.

He also knows that you would sacrifice your happiness if it means not hurting another person - in this case, him. And Jin wouldn’t - couldn’t - do that to you; you’d gone through too much to not have that.

He cares about you. At the end of the day, what matters to him is your happiness, even if it costs him his own.

Months pass and you didn’t expect for things to change as much as they have.

When Jungkook left your apartment, you silently asked him to make sure that things wouldn’t change between you two. But he told you things that you didn’t know how to react to, keeping that conversation parked, leaving him high and dry. Heartbroken too, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

Movie nights no longer happen. You still message each other every few days but they’re barely conversations. You drop by the supermarket but you’re now unaware of his new shift; the same goes with the club.

Yoongi insists that Jungkook has just been really busy. Between physical therapy and taking additional shifts, he just really hasn’t had much time to spare. Whatever time he can get where he’s not working, he uses it to rest.

You suppose it makes sense if he distances himself from you, especially since the last time movie night was supposed to take place, you had to cancel because you had to see Jin. That, too, is a change in itself.

Despite it all, you’re just glad that Jungkook is no longer fighting. He kept his promise and continues to promise you that you won’t have to worry about him again. It doesn’t change the fact that you miss him terribly, though.

Jungkook, on his end, just wants to do right by you. All those weeks of living with you made him realize many things - one of them was how much stress he really put you through and that he doesn’t want that for you anymore.

Another realization, the one that scared him more than anything, was that you and Jin could really be something, and it might be too late for him now, especially if you’ve already found the person who can be good for you. But now it’s clear to Jungkook what’s good for him, and in a moment of epiphany, he decides that if he really wants to be happy, he knows he can only be that with you. He could at least try.

It’s why he’s standing by your door, incessantly knocking, waiting for you to open it for him like you had all those times before.

You get up from your bed due to the banging on your door and as you open it, your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat at the sight of your best friend. You let him in and it’s instinct for you to grab his face, move it side-to-side, and check for any wounds or injuries on his body.

“Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” You ask, turning him around and checking his hands for any cuts, just in case.

Jungkook’s eyes are locked on you, following your movements.

“I can’t live without you, ___,” is what he greets you with.

You sigh at this and look at him with somber eyes. You don’t like him thinking this way, like you’re a necessity in his life.

“Jungkook, we’re not doing this again. I told you, you can.”

“I can’t. And even if I can, I don’t want to. Because I know now— no, I’m sure now, that you’re the most important thing in my life and I’ll lose more if I don’t do anything. I’ll lose you, and I can’t lose you,” he says, the constant line making another appearance.

“Jungkook, you won’t lose me. I’ll always be here for you, I told you.”

“As what? As my best friend? Just my best friend?”

“What else would I be?” You ask, feeling like cowering because you’re not sure if you’re ready for what he’s about to say.

“Something more. I want you, ___. I want to be with you and I need you to know that even if I know it’s too late,” he sighs. He may like Jin for you but he definitely likes himself for you more.

“I want you for you and for what you do for me,” he continues. “Because you��re wrong. No one else can do what you do for me because all they want are the good parts, the ones that they can benefit from. They don’t want my baggage, they don’t want my past, not the scars that are still healing, not the doubts I have of myself, none of that. They don’t want a life with me, the way you do. You’ve always accepted me for who I am. Not everybody can do that because I’m such a pain in the ass and probably the most difficult person to love but you do anyway.”

With every step he takes towards you, you take a step back until your back is pushing against the wall.

“It’s not about saving me from myself, ___. It’s about loving me, through the good and the bad. That’s what you do for me and I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life but I can’t just stand back and not fight for you this time. I won’t.” He closes his eyes, recalling all the nights he’d spent thinking about you, wishing he was with you instead of someone else.

“I know Jin is good for you but I, I can be good for you, too. And I can do so much more. I can be so much more, ___. I promise you that.”

“Jungkook—” you try to cut him off.

“I mean, I know it’ll take time before I get to take you to those fancy places or get you nice dresses.”

“Jungkook—”

“But I can do other things. I’m sure I cook better and I’ll buy a secondhand car and take you to places and I’ll be good to you, ____. I’ll be so good to you, just please—”

“Jungkook!” You slap his chest to shut him up.

“What?”

“Jin broke up with me.”

“What? Why?” Jungkook is suddenly irate.

He should be happy but he starts to feel anger bubbling at the thought that Jin was the one who broke things off.

“Why?” You sigh, the feeling all too familiar. “It’s the same reason why Sejun and Minho broke up with me… Jin isn’t you.”

Jungkook is in shock, doe-eyes staring at you, his breath catching in his throat at the thought that your ex-boyfriends had been the ones to end it. You always brushed him off when he asked, saying things just didn’t work out.

“None of them was you. And they all knew that. Especially Jin. He knew that no matter how good he is to me and for me, he knows he’s not you,” you explain, your head hanging low at the memory of that night when you’d canceled movie night with Jungkook because Jin wanted to talk.

He realized that even if you both tried, he was always going to be second to your best friend, something he couldn’t really blame you for.

“He lost a long time ago. They all did. I’d still drop everything for you, Jungkook,” you confess, looking up at him now. “That’s never gonna change. They can’t compete with you, whether it’s the ghost of you or the real you. I’ll always choose you. And Jin made me realize that. It’s always gonna be you, Jungkook, even if I don’t want it to. It’s always gonna be—”

Your speech is cut short at the feel of Jungkook’s soft lips on your own, stealing the breath out of you. It’s not chaste but not hard either. He holds it steady, barely moving; just enough to get a feel of you, to see if you’ll push him away, and maybe to shut you up, too.

He pulls away, his imploring eyes needing confirmation that he didn’t misinterpret what you just said. You look at him as he swallows hard, almost out of breath, like he’s suddenly unsure.

Your hands find themselves behind his neck and you pull him towards you, kissing him this time, sucking in a breath as you do. He falls into rhythm with you immediately, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer, wanting to feel more of you other than just your lips.

With his touch, you feel like your body is on fire and you gush at the tingling sensation you feel all over. You never thought this would happen yet it feels so right, so natural. And you can’t help yourself.

You open your mouth, encouraging him to taste you more, which he does, as his tongue searches yours, wet muscles entangling and savoring each other. Your messy kisses start to be in tune with your hips grinding against each other, Jungkook pulling you even more forward, making you feel the growing bulge beneath his tight jeans.

Your hands slip down to his chest, already enjoying the feel of it despite the thin shirt he’s wearing. Your kisses continue, tongues dancing, heads changing their angles, as if each one will give you a different taste, a different feel.

In your exploration of each other’s mouths, Jungkook releases a soft moan, and you smile into the kiss, liking the effect you’re having on the man whose lips you’ve imagined tasting far too many times.

He trails down the side of your jaw then moves to the area near your ears. With a certain force of the buck of your hip, he murmurs a fuck and with his hoarse and very turned on voice, you feel the floodgates of your pussy open. He continues down, sucking the skin of your neck while his one hand lifts your leg to wrap it around him so he can grip your ass.

You continue like this, his lips finding purchase in the available skin and your hands gripping onto the strands of his hair, wanting him closer, harder. You feel lightheaded but you don’t care. You’re both lost in the feel and sounds of each other that you don’t realize the constant ringing of your phone.

You release yourself from his mouth and tell him that your phone is ringing and you have to pick it up, your body angling away from him and towards your room.

“It’s not your work phone, leave it,” he says, as he nips on your throat before he gives it open-mouth kisses.

“Might still be an emergency,” you say, your husky voice not matching your intention to pick up the call. “Please, Kook. We’ll continue,” you say, slowly but hesitantly pulling him off you.

He finally lets you go and you tiptoe to give him a quick peck on his lips before you scurry towards your room. He walks after you and can’t help himself. With your back turned to him, he wraps his arm around you and places light, hot kisses on your neck. You bite back a moan.

“Kook, it was your mom,” you say, your voice alarmed.

You dial her number and Jungkook doesn’t stop his exploration of your body, as his hands start to travel underneath your shirt.

“Mhmm, okay,” is all he says.

“Hi, Auntie! Is everything okay?” You greet.

You try hard to keep your voice steady, a feat in itself considering how utterly rude your best friend is right now, with his lips and hands not giving you room to breathe.

She asks how her son is doing since he hasn’t been picking up her calls, worried that he might’ve changed his number again without informing her, something you always scolded Jungkook for doing. At this, you turn your head towards the man in question, scowling at him.

“What?” He mouths, then smirks and turns your head away from him with his hand so he can continue laving his tongue at your neck.

“He’s just been busy, Auntie, but he’s doing okay!” You say, as you try to stop Jungkook’s hand from going south of your stomach.

He really has the audacity to finger you with his mother at the other end of the line.

“He’s here, actually. I’ll let you talk to him.”

You turn around and hand him your phone, your eyebrow cocked. He glares at you but takes the phone anyway.

“Mom!” He exclaims. “How are you?”

You can tell by the exasperated look on his face that she’s scolding him, probably for ignoring her again. From where you are, you can hear her rambling, her voice going loud then soft and you laugh at this, enjoying how uninterested Jungkook is. So you take this opportunity to get back at him.

You bite your lip as you eye him up and down, and he notices this, his face changing as if to tell you to not even think about it.

You graze your fingers over his shirt, focusing on his nipples and tracing them down gingerly until they reach his pants. You feel Jungkook hold his breath and see his nostrils flare as you slowly unbutton and unzip his jeans. You don’t pull it down though, but you do slip your hand inside to cup his cock with your hand, palming it gently. You giggle at the way he looks - one hand gripping on the phone and the other, on his head.

You close your eyes and lick your lips at the feel of him because fuck does he feel so good, and before you know it, he’s telling his mom to “Please say all this to ___ because I’m gonna forget,” handing your phone back to you. You take it back, your hand out of his jeans now, and you resume the conversation that Jungkook so rudely cut off.

He pulls you towards him as he sits on the edge of your bed, ready to exact his own revenge. He smirks at you before he’s pushing up your shirt, bunching it right underneath your breast, proceeding to make open-mouth kisses on your stomach. His hot breath on your skin and the way his hand is moving from your back to your ass to your thighs is adding to the wetness that’s already making your underwear feel uncomfortable.

His kisses keep getting lower and he’s so unbothered by your constant claims of yes, I’ll tell him, that sounds great, Auntie, in a shaky voice, over the phone. It’s when he starts to grip on the band of your shorts that you jerk away and beg him to please wait, and he can’t help but laugh at how desperate you look.

You’re finally saying your goodbyes and you place your phone on your side table. He’s sitting there, leaning back with his tattooed arms supporting his weight, his jeans undone and long hair pushed back, his white shirt giving you a peak of what’s underneath. He looks so fucking sinful.

You cross your arms and pout.

“You’re mean. That was your mother, Jungkook.”

He laughs at you. Does he really think it's funny if you suddenly let out a moan over the phone because her son can’t keep his hands off of you? What a brat.

“You’re cute,” he replies.

“Not funny,” you deadpan, but with how he’s eyeing you up and down, how he’s licking and biting his lips as you cower under his gaze, it makes you feel hot all over.

He enjoys you looking so flustered with him like this, no traces of worry or sadness painting your face. It’s a sight he definitely wants to get used to.

“C’mere,” he says, in that teasing but gravelly tone of his, pulling you by your waist and motioning you to sit on top of him.

With his voice alone, you could already come undone, and now his hands are on your hips as they help you adjust on his lap, placing your crotch right on top of his. He’s just semi-hard and he already feels so good.

When he thinks you’re stable, he directs your face towards him.

“You’re adorable, too.” Kiss on the cheek. “And so sexy.” Kiss on the other cheek. “And so, so beautiful.” Kiss on the lips.

This time, it’s harder than the previous ones. It’s rougher, more desperate, his teeth nipping on your lips, his tongue chasing then battling with yours, both your moans getting longer and louder, as you resume bucking your hips against each other.

Your hands are on his shoulder for support and his are on your waist for guidance, one hand inching its way underneath your shirt to grope your breast. You curse at the feel of his large hand enveloping you and he plays around, pinching and fondling your nipples. He’s dissatisfied, pushing your shirt further up to reveal your bare chest.

At this, his gaze hardens even more, desire getting stronger and stronger. He attacks your breasts with his mouth, his tongue swirling around one and hand squishing and flicking the other. His other hand remains tightly around your waist as it continues to hold you steady as he rubs his clothed cock on your clothed cunt. You feel his nails digging into your skin, knowing they’ll leave marks for you to see tomorrow.

You’re so lost in the feel of him attacking you.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” you moan.

He smirks at this. “How long?”

“Not telling.”

He stops his movements and looks up at you blankly. Your eyes open at the sudden loss and look at him infuriatingly.

“Jungkook!”

“How long?” He implores.

“High school.”

He’s satisfied with this and continues from where he left off. “Early sexual awakening, I see.”

“End of high school, just to be clear.”

It’s just his mouth that stops now as he looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Look,” you start with a shaky voice in between your pants because he still has his hands doing sinful things to your breast. “You were this emo 15-year old with your black earrings and hair over your eyes and puffy cheeks and then you go away for one summer and then suddenly you look like fucking Adonis birthed you or something.”

“Hmm,” he says, then goes back to sucking your nipple. “Not the first time I heard that,” he chuckles.

You push his head out of your chest and level with him. You’re enjoying this but you also realize you haven’t really cleared things with him, too desperate for each other to even really talk. He takes the hint and stops his motions.

“Seriously though, Kook. It was weird,” you say, trying not to meet his eyes. “Because you’re my best friend and I’m not supposed to look at you like that but then you looked like that. And when things got worse for me, it was just a reflex to call you. Well, it was my parents’ reflex to call you and then it just became a habit for me and I just called you every fucking time.”

It’s like a switch and you’re suddenly emotional, thinking back to how attached you were to him before, something you never really grew out of. It at least became manageable as you got older.

“Hey, hey. Why do you feel bad about that?” He asks, hand tilting your chin to face him. “I wanted you to call, every fucking time. I told you, you’ve always meant the world to me and I would do anything for you.”

“Yeah but then I ended up falling in love with you.”

“When?”

“It was just a crush at the start but the feelings weren’t immediate, I mean,” you say, shifting on his lap for a better position. “When we were younger I thought it was just this dependency thing, you know? Because you were always saving me, arm out every single time I was drowning, like you were just waiting for me to tug at you and then you’d pull me out...”

Moments of him screaming your name, running towards you, pulling you into a hug flash before your eyes.

“What about now? Is it still a dependency thing?”

You shake your head no. “It hurt leaving you. And then when we drifted, I felt a part of me was gone, like I was going through life with a half functioning heart.”

Jungkook aches at this, learning how much you hurt then when he stayed away.

“And when I saw you again, I was just so glad you were okay, that you were safe. Like that was enough to let me be at ease because I missed you. So much. But then seeing you with your exes hurt, and I hated myself when I’d think it could be me, but I just wanted you to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me, in that way. I guess that’s when I knew.”

Jungkook soaks everything in, hoping he’d known earlier.

“I’m a lot stronger now. It’s just that I’m sure I don’t want to be without you again. Ever,” you add.

“Same here,” he affirms you, eyes so tender, his hold softening and his hands caressing your arms.

Your face falls to rest on the crook of his neck. “I love you, Jungkook. I loved you then and I love you now. I think I’ll love you always,” you finally say.

It’s the declaration of love you didn’t think you’d ever make, given that a part of you accepted that your relationship would never head that direction. But being with him like this now, it feels surreal. Also silly.

He shifts you so you’re face-to-face.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he smirks.

“Don’t make me say it again,” you pout.

He gives you a disappointing look and you release a breath.

“I love you, okay?” You repeat the words.

He just looks at you and hums, enjoying the teasing a little bit too much.

“Jungkook!” You scream, slapping his chest again.

Much as you missed his mischievous ways, this isn’t really the time to fool around.

“I love you, too.” He laughs. “And I wanna be with you.”

He wraps his arms around your waist and you wrap yours around his neck, and you’re just there, basking in each other’s presence, like this is how it was always supposed to be.

“I mean it,” he says.

“I know,” you respond.

“Good.”

You look at each other again, all the emotions from all the years together and apart - gratitude, longing, regret - melding to form a string that binds you both. Despite your own struggles and demons, despite your guilt of walking away from each other at one point, despite all the pain and hardship you’d caused each other, it was that overwhelming, unyielding, and unconditional love you share that keeps you coming back to each other. And now, it’s something you can openly and fully share.

His gaze breaks as he eyes your lips once again, and with his hand on the back of your head, he brings you close for another kiss. It’s a little softer this time yet still purposeful. You melt into him, loving how you’re already getting used to this.

He flips you on your bed and lays you down, your mouths not parting from each other. He hovers over you, his arms on the sides of your head for support, his legs trapping yours in between his. Your hips buck at the pleasure just from his kiss, and your hands caress his side, sneaking underneath his shirt to feel his toned body.

“I don’t know if I should fuck you senseless or take my time with you,” he says as his lips move to your neck.

Your breath hitches. “The first one.”

He smirks then faces you. “I know you said you wanted this for so long but did you imagine this, too?” He asks as he pulls up your shirt, then his.

He’s hovering you again, placing soft kisses on the valley of your breasts, then your stomach, liking its rise and fall due to your heavy breathing.

“Yes, but I won’t get into details,” you respond.

He’s going further and further down, his hands ghosting over the bands of your shorts. You feel lightheaded that you don’t feel him remove the remainder of your clothing.

“Why not?” He asks.

“Because I already know my imagination would be nothing compared to—ngh, fuck Jungkook,” you scream out that last bit as you feel his tongue expertly lick your cunt, using your slick to glide it around the sensitive area and its vicinity.

You can’t even continue your sentence as you feel incapable of words. Jungkook has rendered you unable to do anything else, really, aside from moan and weakly buck your hips towards his mouth.

He’s lapping his wet muscle over your lips, your hole, your sensitive nub, while his hands caress your thighs and lift them to rest over his shoulders. He adjusts his hold on you so he’s comfortably between your legs, slurping your juices, following a pace that’s making you even wetter than you already are.

With the remaining consciousness you have, you peek at him and you can see his eyes rolling to the back of his head even with his eyes closed; he’s enjoying this as much as you are. You remain like this, your moans echoing throughout your room. Jungkook continues his motions, lost in his own world. It’s with a certain pressure on your clit that you come undone, and Jungkook catches your slick with his tongue, loving how sweet you taste.

Once he’s satisfied, his kisses go north this time, going from your hips, to your stomach, to your chest, and back to your lips. He’s taking his time with you now, which isn’t even what you requested but this idiot is being such a tease.

You hazily reach out to him, half-lidded eyes looking at his crotch, begging him.

“Let me.”

“Another time, okay? Let me take care of you,” he says, taking your hands into his, his mouth now at your neck.

You groan at this. “Take care of me with your dick, Jungkook. I need it inside me, whether in my mouth or my pussy. Fucking choose. Please,” you shout, almost exasperatingly.

You don’t know where that came from, but you’ve been desperate to feel all of him - you did say you wanted him to fuck you senseless - yet all he’s been wanting to do is kiss you. Which isn’t a big problem at all, just that since you’ve touched him earlier, you’ve been imagining how good it would feel to do more with his dick.

This earns you a laugh, and not just any laugh. It’s the kind that has him doubling over on your torso, his body shaking, boyish giggles escaping his mouth.

This isn’t funny to you. “Jungkook, please. I just… Please stop teasing.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

But with the distressed look on your face and the tears forming on the corner of your eyes out of frustration, he knows you don’t believe him.

“Okay, okay!” He says.

He rises from the bed to swiftly remove his jeans and boxers, confirmations on both ends being given about being clean and his dick hardens even more at the thought that he gets to take you raw for your first time together.

He climbs back to bed and aligns himself with your entrance, foregoing whatever preparation is needed, and you’re panting in anticipation. In all your years of pining - and maybe thirsting - for your best friend, you never really thought this day would come.

“Fuuuuck Jungkook, yes,” you shout, as he’s halfway in. “You feel so good,” you say, each word like a sentence on its own.

Your eyes are closed and you’re reaching out for anything of his body to hold. You settle on his beautifully toned arms at your side, getting even more turned on at the feel of them — not too big, but hard just the same.

He moans, enjoying the sounds you keep making. “Better than you imagined?”

“So much better,” you grunt. “Oh god, shit,” you shriek, as you feel him bottom out.

He pauses to let you get used to him. You’re still panting, curses softly yet passionately coming out of your mouth.

“Wow okay, this is a new side to you. I like this,” he says playfully.

You don’t see him lovingly gaze at how much you’re falling apart underneath him. He loves that he gets to do this to you.

“You don’t know what it’s like to thirst for your best friend for years, okay. Shut up.”

“Hey, no need to make me feel about it,” he furrows his eyebrows.

“Sorry, it’s not what I intended, I just want you so badly. And I need you to fucking move. You flicked a switch and I can’t flick it back off.”

He laughs before he turns serious. “Good, I don’t want you to,” he says as he begins to grind against you, slowly at first and then he moves back only to thrust harshly into you, earning him a soft cry.

“Nghh - please don’t stop. Please keep going,” you say, meeting his assault on your pussy.

He continues his thrusts, upper body now rising to pull your legs up so you’re even more flushed against him.

He caresses your legs and then he lifts them so they’re over his shoulders, over his kneeling form. This causes your hip to raise a little bit and allows him to go deeper into you, and he knows he’s hit just the spot when you’re mewling and cursing and shouting his name. His finger finds your clit and he’s expertly flicking them, matching the way he’s pushing in and out of your sopping cunt.

“Touch yourself, ___. I want you to feel everything.”

You follow his demand and play with your nipples, all ready and angry to be touched. You’re flicking and pinching, adding to the unbelievable pleasure coursing through your body.

Between his fingers, yours, and his dick that’s just the right length and girth to hit the right spots without ripping you apart, you feel like having an out-of-body experience with how good this all feels. It definitely helps that you’re madly in love with him, your heart filled with so much joy at the fact that you get to feel him bare like this, you get to feel all of him in the most intimate way that you can.

He knows you’re close but he asks you to hold for a bit longer and you comply.

He’s back to being flushed against you, your legs now wrapped around his waist, and it still allows him to relentlessly pound into you. His hand replaces one of yours on your breast, his mouth meeting yours again, but they’re not exactly kisses this time. They remain open, tongues just lazily lapping at each other. He speeds up his movements and continues to thrust harshly, finding the rhythm that has you falling apart once more.

“You feel so good, ___.”

“Kook, I’m close,” you whisper in his mouth.

“Mhmm, I want to feel you when you come.”

And with the certain pressure of his thrust into you, you feel that coil in your stomach snap, lewd sounds escaping your mouth, which Jungkook swallows with his own. Your juices milk his cock and he moans at this. You wrap your arms around him, fingers combing through his damp hair and tired as you are, you roll your hips into his and he grunts.

He feels your slick coat him and he shudders at how good you feel, his cock dragging in and out of your tight hole tirelessly, your sounds at the oversensitivity spurring him on. He’s so captivated by your warmth, so entranced by the music spilling out of your mouth, so lost at the intense feeling of love and desire and longing he has for you.

With his knit brows and jaw slacking at the sensation, you yearn to feel him unravel inside you.

“Come for me, yeah?” you whisper in his ear, your post-orgasm voice the final thing he needs to come undone.

He’s spurting his seed into you and you moan at the slick that's starting to seep from inside you, down to your thighs. But you don’t mind. You’re both panting, satisfied, dazed.

He falls right next to you, his mouth still slightly open as he’s still trying to catch his breath. You’re no better.

He gathers whatever energy he has left to give you a peck on your cheek and rise from the bed, only to return with a wet cloth and a glass of water. He wipes off your mixed juices and he softly massages your thighs, knowing they took a beating. You both drink from the glass and he lays down next to you, his arm around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. You both lay there, wrapping your head around finally being together like this.

He adjusts his head so he’s looking at you from the side, and you turn to him to meet his gaze, his eyes so warm and innocent this time around.

“I should’ve realized it sooner,” he finally starts. “And when I finally did, I think a part of me was just waiting to be good enough for you, to be deserving of you.”

You shift so you’re fully turned to him now. You cup his cheek with your hand.

“You don’t get to decide that, Jungkook.”

“I know, but you deserve the world, ___. I can only hope to give you that. Even if right now I can’t. Not completely, at least.”

“You were all I ever needed, Jungkook. There’s a reason why every time I ran away from home, it was always you whom I called, why it was always you I came running to, the one I wanted to hold me when my world was falling apart, and even when my pieces were back together.” You say, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Yours was the only world I wanted so badly to be a part of then, and that hasn’t changed.”

He lets your words sink in, knowing that it’s the same with him. Between your quirks, your playful but shy personality, and especially your compassion, you built your own world that he always wanted a piece of. He let you hold onto him because he didn’t want to let you go.

He kisses you to say all the things he can’t formulate into words yet. You sigh into him and he deepens the kiss, his hand now cupping your face, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek. Your legs entangle and your hand finds its home on his chest once more, gripping onto him; he’s giving you air yet taking your breath away at the same time. You feel him smile into the kiss and god, his smile tastes so good.

He pulls away and extends his arm to wrap it around your shoulder, his back now flat on the bed. He pulls you close and you turn to your side, your arm caressing the expanse of his gorgeously toned chest, fingers tracing the ridges of his abs, softly picking on the hairs of his lower torso.

Jungkook, with his eyes now closed, moans at the feel of your hands and you feel your pussy clench, like it suddenly has a life of its own that naturally reacts to whatever he does.

“So… Can I have that dick in my mouth this time?” You say, lifting your head to face him.

Jungkook opens his eyes and chuckles.

“I’m really liking this version of you, all hot and desperate for me,” he teases.

You furrow your brows. “Do you know how hard it was to keep a straight face every time I had to clean you up and have you walk around my apartment half naked? It was torturous.”

He laughs then kisses the pout off your face. “I don’t.”

“Exactly. So you don’t get to tease me this time,” you say, pointing a finger at him.

“Let me enjoy this for a bit. I’m not used to you getting flustered.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” You give him a peck on the lips. “So back to your dick…”

Jungkook wakes up to the sound of a loud car horn blasting from outside. He groans at the disturbed slumber that was much needed, given last night’s events.

He thinks about it and smiles, turns to the side and then panics at the empty space next to him. He was half expecting you to be lying on your side, your cheek flushed on the pillow and dried drool on the side of your mouth, but he isn’t rewarded with that sight.

He starts to wonder if he maybe dreamed it. Perhaps he’d gone here with half a mind and you’re actually asleep on your couch because he was too heartbroken to leave at your rejection. But as he starts to walk towards the door, he pauses by your mirror and sees the purple marks all over his chest and neck and he laughs. He definitely didn’t dream last night.

You left a sticky note on the bedroom door, saying you went out to buy breakfast and he already knows you’ll be coming back with a box of croissants and walnut tarts and coffee. He goes back to bed and like a giggly teenager, reminisces last night - how you looked, how you sounded, how you felt.

He never really thought at one point in his life, he’d have you all bare and vulnerable with him like that. You’ve always been his best friend; you’ve always taken care of each other, like there was no other version of life where you didn’t.

But once he saw you for you, and ultimately what you were to him, it all clicked. And once it did, he couldn’t think of having you in any other way, the way he does right now. You’re his best friend, his confidante, his number one supporter, the one who grounds him and reminds him of the most important things in life. And he knows he’s that person for you, too.

He thinks about all this and suddenly, he thinks of something he hasn’t thought of in a long while - a future. He thinks of all that he can have and can be - for you, for himself. For his family.

Not long after, he hears the door unlock and he half dresses himself to meet you. You’re unpacking the paper bags of food, your phone lodged by your shoulder, talking to… Jiyoung?

“Just take it one step at a time, okay? Don’t be too hard on yourself,” you tell his sister as you look up at him with a nod when he confirms who’s on the line. “And please, Ji. Celebrate little victories, too. That helps.”

You say a few more things and Jungkook stands there with a sappy smile on his face at how all these years, you’ve been taking care of everybody in his life when he hadn’t been able to. You always told him how you grew up not feeling loved by your own family yet here you are, giving all the love you possibly can to his, and many others, too.

You put the phone down and eye him up, smirking.

“Nice marks, Kook. Those are the only bruises and scratches on your body I’d like to see,” you tease.

Jungkook doesn’t laugh. He just looks at you with tender eyes.

“Everything okay?” You ask, eyes suddenly furrowed. “I literally just made a suggestive comment and you’re not laughing.”

“Last night and this morning got me thinking,” he starts, walking towards you.

“About what?” Maybe this was a mistake? Too fast, too soon?

He gets to you and straightens your eyebrows that have started to scrunch out of worry. Moving in together, he wants to tell you. But he settles with little steps, like what you always say.

“Visiting home,” he shares, and he smiles wider at how wide you’re smiling at him. “I wanna tell my parents that I plan to go back to college.” He wraps his arms around your waist, his eyes level with yours. “And I want to introduce them to my girlfriend.”

Your heart skips a beat at this; hearing those words seems surreal.

“Sounds good. Maybe then I could introduce them to my boyfriend, too.”

Jungkook laughs but his face softens at the happiness shining from your face. He’s just glad he gets to be a source of it this time.

And even if it’s a long way to the end-goal - a happy and proud family, making his parents’ dreams for the restaurant come true - you’re by his side the way he wants you to be, and he’s never letting you go ever again.

A/N: If you made it at the end, thank you. I wish when I was younger, someone had told me that I shouldn’t have to suffer, that words can damage you and it’s not okay, that I need a strong support system to make it through, and to always celebrate little victories. So if you’re reading this and you’re not in a good spot, remember all that. And take care!

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