bad boy good thing x.
pairing: jeon jungkook x oc
genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining
warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)
words: 8, 711
summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing
a/n:
so here is the mini monster chap !! i know I said this was going to be a drabble series but I clearly got carried away LOL
anyways, no spoilers for this chap but I can say it's one of my favs that I've written and I think we see oc getting the comfort that she deserves (and needs!)
and also !! this is my first time updating a series on tumblr and it feels *exciting* hehe, I hope you enjoy this chapter c:
let me know your thoughts in my asks!! i'd love to hear what you think so far :3
all the love and I hope you're having a great
day/night/evening/afternoon wherever you are ❤️
“Open up!”
The only person that would opt to yell to get your attention than ring on your doorbell like a normal person would be Yena. And it helped that you immediately recognised her voice from the first syllable she uttered. That and you were currently moping in your living room with lactose-free ice cream, courtesy of Jimin that dropped it off a day ago when he heard that you were ‘sick’. Even if you hadn’t seen him face-to-face, you remember him softly hoping you’d get better.
You don’t know why she’s at your door, but you’re already on your feet to get her when you hear her begin to mutter curses directed at you behind the thin wood of your entrance.
“I can hear you!” You call.
“Well bitch then open the damn door!” She snaps.
You roll your eyes, and so far with the number of times you’ve hung out with her, it’s safe to say that the two of you were comfortable. You never knew how fun having a girl best friend was until you met Yena, and sure it’s only been a little under two weeks since you’ve gotten to know her through various messages and FaceTimes, but you feel like she’s your friend soulmate.
And when you expressed that to her over a FaceTime call a few nights back, you remember her gagging all while you flush and attempt to take it back. You know her candidly calling you bitch rather than your name was her saying she felt the same.
You pull the door open as she stands there with her eyes narrowed into slits, eyeing you up and down before she scrunches her nose.
“There’s a thing called a shower that you should look into. You look like a rundown version of long-haired Noah Beck.” She grimaces when she eyes you up and down.
You scowl. “You did not just compare me to him.”
She clicks her tongue before she shoves you aside by shoving a plastic bag of the takeout food into your arms and steps into your apartment.
Yena ignores the glare you shoot at the back of her neck when she looks around your living room, scrunching her nose like she was here to inspect your room than pay you a visit.
“Did someone die in here or was that just your will to live?”
You scoff. “Wow. Drag me.”
She waves you off before plopping onto your couch while you sigh, immediately heading to the kitchen to prep the food she brought over.
“For a moment I thought you were dead.” She confesses casually.
When you return with bowls and plates, with the cutlery to match—you give her a dry look before you’re taking your seat on the floor; attempting to hide your half-eaten tub of ice cream, which Yena immediately spots.
“So your first instinct was to yell at my door in hopes that I wasn’t actually dead?” You ask dryly.
She picks up your ice cream and grimaces at it, silently judging you for the flavour before she gives you a shrug.
“Yeah. I was hoping that your spirit would confer.”
You snort. “And the food?”
“A peace offering.” She tells you like it’s obvious.
You sigh, you loved Yena—you really did. She was all over the place and random, but it was a refreshing difference that you needed in your life from the usual law and order you often opted for.
“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern,” You tell her, pulling out a container to see your favourite lemon chicken as you eye her suspiciously. “But what brings you here? I told you I was sick.”
Yena scoffs. “And sick you are, bitch. What kind of sick person devours ice cream? Sure, you look the part but your diet says otherwise. Don’t think I didn’t see the empty packet of snickers in the trash.”
You scowl.
“I recovered yesterday.” You lie, taking a bite out of the chicken.
Yena rolls her eyes and you know she doesn’t believe you. She leans into your couch while she watches you eat, “Namjoon texted me that you may need some company.” At that, you choke.
Her eyes widen as you hit at your chest to get the food to go down, eyes still wide at her revelation.
“Why would he do that?” You cry.
“Girl, I know you’re not trying to deflect—you’re literally about to choke and die.”
You glare at her. “I’m fine.” You cough for good measure, then you’re levelling another serious gaze at her.
“I’m fine.” You reiterate with an emphasis on your state even though you were anything but. “I don’t know why the hell he thinks I need company.” You mutter under your breath.
At this, Yena’s face softens as she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees while you avoid her gaze; idly poking at your food.
“I don’t know either, and you don’t need to tell me anything.” She says softly. “That’s all I’m here for. To be your company, whether you need it or not.”
You don’t know how much Namjoon told her over a text message, but you don’t think it’s much. Purely because he didn’t seem like a snitch and he was too respectful to ever let other people into the business that wasn’t his own. Even at the thought, you want to groan because you essentially lured him into thinking it was okay for him to kiss you while you were … you don’t even know what the fuck was happening anymore.
“I—” You say weakly, and all Yena does is offer you a comforting smile.
For some reason, the fact that she’s here right in front of you after you spent the day crying and feeling like your heart has been repeatedly stomped over with the addition of your rumination—it feels nice to have someone with you, even if it’s just their presence.
But the way she doesn’t look at you and expects something out of your conversation makes you feel even more overwhelmed, and that’s probably why the dam breaks.
Yena’s eyes widen as she immediately darts out to wrap her arms around you when you end up in violent sobs. You don’t know why you’re crying but you are, and you’re tired of hiding things, your feelings and your intent just to pretend like things were okay.
“It’s okay.” She strokes your hair and it feels warm, like a mother comforting a crying baby and you realise that this is what friends should feel like.
“N-no it’s n-not!” You cry into her shirt and it’s messy, but she doesn’t seem like she minds. Especially when she supports your pliable frame.
“You wanna talk about it?” She asks softly, giving you a kind smile.
You sniffle, staring forward as you feel your eyes swell with the escalation of your tears.
“I don’t know.” You whisper.
She hums, “It’s okay not to know. You don’t need to know everything.”
“I’m just so tired, Yena.” You tell her in a hushed breath.
“Life is difficult.” She admits. “It’s natural to be tired.”
You’re thankful to hear that she doesn’t comfort you with blind optimism. She’s real and she acknowledges how shitty things may be, and frankly, you didn’t need another wannabe altruist telling you that things will get better. You knew that, everyone did. But when you’re at rock bottom and all you see is darkness, you’re not looking for better. You’re looking for a reason to continue.
“Can I say something?” She asks. The way she looks at you is soft and open, and non-judgemental. You feel safe.
You nod your head, teary eyes staring up at her.
“You’re not responsible for anyone’s feelings except your own.” She looks at you so seriously that you nearly feel your breath escape. “There are things that you can and cannot control—and the latter usually falls under the people around you.”
You suck in a breath, and you wonder how she’s so spot on without ever touching on the true context.
“Namjoon texted me but I didn’t come here because he asked me to. It’s because you deserve to have someone be around you when you’re clearly not okay.”
“I’m—”
“You’re not.” She blinks, and you almost pout at her firm tone. “And that’s okay. I don’t need to know what happened to justify how you feel. You could’ve stubbed your toe and feel like absolute shit and I have absolutely no right to judge you on how or when you feel emotions.”
You wonder where she’s been your entire life and why she was only in your life now.
“But the thing is,” She sighs. “You don’t always have to choose between something or the other. Sometimes you need to choose yourself.”
You stare up at her in awe because Yena was cool in general, her laidback and unbending personality was mainly what drew you to her because you’d argue you were the opposite. Even if Jungkook’s words stung, you could take it at face value and accept that it was true.
You were uptight and you were a bit of a prude, and for the longest time, you always resented that aspect of you. But you realised with Yena, she had traits that were resented in a woman as well. And you realise that you’d never be perceived the way you want unless you perceive yourself in a positive light first.
So when she speaks to you so sternly, yet with a tone of care as she picks apart her words so carefully—you realise what you have to do.
“I think I like Jungkook.”
Yena pauses for a brief second, but you don’t see any judgement in her face. Just confusion, a warranted emotion you don’t blame her for having.
“I figured as much.”
Your eyes widened, “How—?”
It’s almost like a repeat of the first night at the football game when you befriended each other, but she only shoots you a gentle smile.
“Call it a woman’s intuition.”
You blink, fiddling with your fingers before you stare up at her, continuing your drawls.
“And we kissed.”
At this, Yena cocks an eyebrow up, “Was this recent?”
You fiddle with your thumbs before you sigh and push yourself up.
“Thing is …” You mumble, “I’m not like that.”
You don’t answer her question because you can’t think of a proper enough response to tell her that yeah—you did kiss him, amongst other things that you foolishly allowed yourself to indulge in. You knew Yena wasn’t judgemental but you also knew that you couldn’t retrieve your words the moment they left your mouth. It was your own judgement that stopped you from saying the things you really wanted and it sucked, royally. Because you could tell that Yena wasn’t out here to crucify you for being … liberated. She just wanted to be there for you.
Yena scrunches her eyebrows in confusion as she allows your words to settle, pondering a response.
She settles for a huff, “Care to elaborate?”
“I don’t … do things like that.” You say softly. “I’m shy and quiet. I’m not active in the social sphere and I only have three friends that I can reach out to if I wanna hang out. But even then, I don’t … I don’t like partying, or drinking, or loud spaces. I’m awkward and horrible at social interaction let alone being able to navigate my romantic feelings. And … I felt so bad about it.”
Yena’s eyes soften, but you can’t look at her just yet. Not when this is the first time you’ve ever laid yourself vulnerable, emotionally that is, to someone that wasn’t just the confines of your thoughts.
“I always wondered what it’d like to be confident, to be liked on campus and not just be known as the smart girl.” You whisper. “My entire personality was built around my achievements and I didn’t know what else to do. What if … what if I peak here and fail after?” Your eyes are wide in despair, and you feel your lips quiver when you speak.
“You’ll never know.” Yena reminds you gently. “You won’t know who likes you or what people say about you—but you’re going to be hearing your own thoughts 24/7 and that’s what kicks you down or drives you further.”
You sigh, nodding your head.
“It’s just … Jungkook and I were close. We grew up together even if he’s younger than me. But we just got along well and he … he saw me. He used to comfort me whenever I’d tell him how pressuring it got and—I feel so stupid because he probably says that to everyone and I fell for it.” You chuckle with no emotion, staring at the stray thread poking outside of your couch pillow.
“Have you spoken to him about your feelings?” She asks softly.
Immediately, you scoff and the sour emotion peaks through again.
“He’s made it clear what he wants to hear from me.” You mutter.
Yena purses her lips before resting her hands gently on your shoulder.
“You’re not answering my question, ______.” She chides gently.
You nibble on your bottom lip and shake your head. That earns a sigh from her as she wraps her arms around you once again, resting her chin on your shoulder as you allow yourself to feel the comfort of her warmth.
“He kissed me first and we did things together.” Your lips quiver when you recall the memories, “A-And he’s with Jennie. I just …” You flutter your eyes shut, “I don’t want to say that I’m the other girl but I feel a lot like a second option and it sucks.”
Yena doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to justify why you felt the way you did, so she holds you tighter.
“Babe.” She gently turns you to look at her with both hands resting on your shoulders. “Did you talk to him? Properly? Do you really know if he’s with her?”
“I think them kissing proves enough to me.” You snap, and you don’t know why you’re being so hostile, especially to Yena.
She purses her lips, “You kissed him and you aren’t together.”
You wince and she shoots you an apologetic look. She sighs before reaching out to squeeze your hand, all while you stare at the ground to level out your emotions.
“I’m not saying that you can’t feel the way you do. But I’m offering objectivity here. Men are … they’re blunt creatures and that’s the biggest difference between men and women.” You furrow your eyebrows as she takes a deep breath before she continues. “And the idea that we’re equal? No, we’re not. I’m not talking about our systemic positions in society but on an emotional level. Men take things surface value and work with it, they don’t stop to think about the layers of feelings that go into interpersonal relationships with friends, family or lovers. Women? We go big or we go home. All we see is the big picture and sometimes the little details get lost in translation. This isn’t me justifying Jungkook playing home with you or Jennie at the same time, but offering you a perspective that may be hard for you to see because you aren’t him.”
It was true, and you hated yourself for being aware but not putting action based on your own thoughts. Yena only reaffirmed the idea that you overthought every single interaction and maybe that was why you were the one that was hurting.
That, or you and Jungkook had horrible communication problems that neither of you was ready to face just yet. But how could you? When the two of you were on two different wavelengths and you were trying to be just enough for him while he was jumping off pedestals to see you.
It didn’t feel nice, and it sucked because he was the same person that comforted you and broke you all at once.
“I’m scared.” You whisper.
She smiles at you gently, patting your head gently as you peer up at her with tears between your lashes.
“And that’s okay.” She reassures you with a soft voice, “The only thing scarier than being scared is not feeling at all.”
Before you go to where your heart tells you to—your mind is the only thing that keeps you rooted in some form of rationale. That’s probably why you’re outside of Namjoon’s dorm. You don’t think you’ve ever paid his place a visit despite him telling you his address on multiple occasions, usually opting to hang out in public yet serene places where you were able to get a breather.
Your feet feel heavy and your fist is raised, but it barely moves. Especially when you’re just eyeing his door like a deer caught in headlights. You’ve rehearsed the apology on your tongue a million times, even if you don’t really know what you’re apologising for. But you feel like you must, particularly because you’ve senselessly let him see all of the feelings that you were trying to suppress in hopes of retaining the same ones he had for you.
You take a deep breath and deliver the first knock, the vibrations making your arm feel weak.
But you’re tired of always surrendering to bigger and more frightening things that you could understand. So you purse your lips and play the waiting game.
It seems like a long twenty minutes that you wait, but in reality, it’s only two when the door swings open. You brace yourself to see Namjoon, apology already sitting on your tongue.
You should’ve dropped a text, you knew that. But you decided against it because you haven’t spoken to Namjoon since what happened a few days ago. Neither of you speaking about the kiss or the way your eyes glistened when you saw Jungkook and Jennie together.
“____?” He asks confusedly.
You give him a meek smile, “Hi. Can I come in?”
He blinks at you, and you notice he still has his glasses that he usually forgoes during the times you’ve hung out—and you feel a little guilty for catching him at a bad time.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sure.”
Namjoon steps aside and you’re welcomed into the space of his living room. The first thing you notice is the interior, and how … Namjoon it was. It’s both cluttered and neat, the palette of his furniture matching the overall vibe he emanated. His furniture is mostly wood, light sandalwood that makes it feel all the homier.
And you tell him such, “You have a very homey place.”
Namjoon turns his head to look at you right before he plops himself back onto his couch where you see the bits and pieces of paper scrambled across the floor and the couch. Even then, he was able to look so welcoming even though you reckon he has a right to be hostile—for a reason you came here to apologise for.
“Thank you.” He flushes, patting a spot in front of him for you to take your seat.
When you settle, the atmosphere turns strained when you mull over your words so that you wouldn’t stumble over them. You practised, you did—about a hundred times before you came here and you thought you were ready to apologise and put things behind you but it’s proven difficult when all he does is look at you in earnest.
“Not that I—uh—mind,” He mumbles, “But is there a reason why you’re here?”
You blink at him as you ignore the quiver in your heart.
“I’m sorry.” You blurt.
“_____ why are you—”
“You didn’t deserve what happened the other day.” You interject, voice soft but unwavering when you force yourself to look at him as his eyes widen.
“I wasn’t the one that saw something I shouldn’t have.” He reminds you with a frown.
You swallow, “I kissed you. And you …” It wasn’t helping that he was looking at you so gently as he awaits your continuation. “You didn’t need to save me back then, Namjoon.” You end in a whisper.
Namjoon reaches out to grab your shoulder, touch gentle as he searches for your eyes.
“I didn’t save you …” He tells you tenderly.
“It’s not just that!” You exasperate while you throw your hands up in the air. “I-it’s everything … from the way you treat me and the way you look at me. You didn’t need to do any of that and you even—” You trail off, fluttering your eyes shut. “—what did you say to Jungkook right before we left?”
Namjoon’s eyes enlarge as his grip becomes tense against your shoulder. You can almost see the way his mind kicks into gear as he thinks of a response.
“That—I—does it matter?” He huffs.
Your eyes soften, “Namjoon.” You force yourself to look at him even if now he was the one that tries to avoid your gaze. “What did you say?”
Namjoon tightens his lips before he sighs deeply, head dropping forward before he looks at you.
“I told him to be honest.” He says softly.
You furrow your eyebrows, “To be honest …?”
“I know you have feelings for him.”
Your face blanches when Namjoon basically exposes you. It’s one thing for you to be self-aware of your complicated feelings towards the other boy. But when someone else points it out, especially when it’s Namjoon—the boy who’s been nothing but kind and patient with you while you’re too busy being caught up in your emotions—it’s like a slap across your face.
“I-I don’t—”
“You don’t need to lie to save my face, ______.” He chuckles dryly, eyes darting away as he tries to neutralise his expression. You wince at the spite he establishes, but you know deep down that Namjoon isn’t angry at you. No, he was far too understanding to be. Disappointed? Frustrated? Sure, but never angry,
The silence answers for you when you look away this time, eyebrows scrunched as you attempt to navigate the conversation. You came here to apologise, and to be honest.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper.
“Don’t.” He takes a deep breath as you flinch. “Don’t … apologise.” He sighs.
“I didn’t mean to lead you on, Namjoon.” You murmur apologetically.
He shoots you a half-hearted chuckle, “You didn’t do anything. Really.”
“But I did, Namjoon. I kissed you back.” You frown.
“That doesn’t imply anything. I kissed you, and you reciprocated. We all kiss someone and not mean anything by it.”
You flinch, and you’re familiar with that more than anyone else. The reminder only stings because it makes you realise that you were not much different from Jungkook, the same person you’ve claimed to have messed with you and fucked you over.
“I’m—”
“Please don’t apologise anymore.” He says. “I already feel like shit.”
You smile sadly at him, “How do you manage to be so nice even when other’s do you wrong?”
Namjoon sighs, then he grabs both your hands in his. “You didn’t wrong me, _____. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way I do.”
“How did you …” You trail off.
“How did I know you had feelings for Jungkook?” He chuckles. “The same way he knew I had feelings for you.”
You purse your lips, eyes dropping to your lap. “It’s not that simple, Namjoon …” You say softly.
Namjoon smiles at you gently, “Is it?” He gently nudges your knee with his so that you’d look at him. “Life is simple. It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”
You scoff even if a small smile teases your lips, “You really are a philosophy major, aren’t you?”
The two of you grin in tandem before he purses his lips, possible mulling over something before he faces you.
“The two of you are close so … why beat around the bush?”
Your eyes flutter shut, shaking your head. “Like I said, it’s really not that simple.”
He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s not to mock or taunt you. Namjoon simply sees a naive, yet an intelligent girl who doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.
“Remember what I said? I’m a simple guy.” He reminds you, lips in a grin. “Try me.”
You snort, but you’re still nervous. You still remember that he has feelings for you, so you’re hesitant. And he immediately recognises the guilt-ridden expression that you mar.
Namjoon shoots you a stern glare, “Don’t overthink it.”
You sigh.
“Jungkook and I …” You start, fiddling with your thumbs. “We grew up together.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes and shoots you another one of his bland stares. “I know the history. I just want to know why?”
You furrow your brows, “Why?”
“Why the two of you insist on being so emotionally constipated.”
You gape at his audacity, and you’re glad the atmosphere isn’t as tense because Namjoon simply snickers at your reaction.
“I am not—!”
He waves you off, “Really?” He adds dryly.
You purse your lips and relent, even if you didn’t want to agree with him—you knew that he was … right. To a certain extent.
“We kissed.” You blurt.
Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “That’s not surprising.”
You shoot him a dry look before he raises his hands in defence.
“He was my first kiss.”
At this, Namjoon’s widen.
“When you were in high school?” He pries.
You flush, embarrassed that you had to tell him otherwise.
“Two months ago.” You mutter.
Namjoon splutters, and you can’t help but glare at him when he quite literally chokes on his spit. You know you caught him off guard, but him rubbing salt in the wound that’s relatively fresh makes you scowl.
“Oh.” He clears his throat. Then he repeats, “Oh.”
You scoff, “Yeah. Oh.”
“Then … what happened?” You know he’s treading carefully with you when he asks you his question softly.
You purse your lips, and you recall every single moment you’ve shared with him. From giggles to hushed kisses, to intimate touches and sweat-stained sheets that have you gasping for air. You remember it all, and they meant … they meant the world to you, but just a speck in his memory.
“Things escalated and we … did stuff together.” You wince.
Namjoon nods in understanding, he gestures his hands around, “Like—”
“I’m a virgin.”
Namjoon blinks.
“And for the longest time, I felt embarrassed about it.”
“Oh.”
“I struggled to find my footing between being sexually liberated and being a woman because for the longest time I thought those two were mutually exclusive. For me, at least.” You say softly.
Namjoon only stares at you.
“And I always wanted validation from someone else to tell me that what I was doing was the right thing to do. Or the supposed thing to do. Never what I really wanted to do.”
“Not that I’m uncomfortable but … why are you letting me in on this?” Namjoon asks with a raised brow.
“Because I want to do something for myself for once.” You whisper.
“Okay …?”
“Why do you like me? Even if I’m … boring and not as sexy as other women?”
You sound pathetic, and the first person you find yourself comparing yourself to is Jennie—a beautiful, confident woman who looked so assured in herself.
“You’re not—”
You groan.
“Namjoon.”
“Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re asking me if I care that you’re a virgin, then no. I really don’t. Because frankly, that concept to me is false and problematic. Whether or not you’ve had sex or not isn’t any of my business.”
You duck your head.
“And I like you because you’re interesting. You’re funny and you’re assured in your own way. You don’t need to be a certain standard of pretty or sexy or whatever for me to like you. I like you because of the time we’ve spent together and that I’ve gotten to know you. The real you and not the person I admired from afar but the girl who throws in jokes out of nowhere but fits so well with the situation. The girl who’s willing to spend three extra hours of her time to help with content that wasn’t prescribed to her. I like you because I’d like to think I’ve grown to understand who you are.”
Namjoon says all of those things while staring at you straight in the face and you feel compelled to cry. Because no one has ever been so honest with you and you hate that your heart can’t reciprocate what should be an easy feeling that comes naturally.
“Fuck.”
His eyes widen.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He coos, a hand petting your hair gently as you sniffle.
“It’s not, Namjoon. Everything sucks because everything is so complicated. Why can’t I just have feelings for you instead?”
It’s selfish, and Namjoon winces. But you’re so overwhelmed that you miss it, and Namjoon is too nice to point his own feelings out.
“You don’t pick and choose your battles, _____.” He murmurs softly.
“That’s not what my mom told me.” You whimper.
He chuckles, “Yeah. Most people like to believe that because it makes them think that they have a choice over the bad things that happen in their lives. But in reality? They don’t. No one decides what happens to them. You pick and choose how you react to things. How you deal with situations and what you make out of those situations is what you can choose to do. You don’t like me, and that’s fine. You don’t have to just because I’m nice to you, _____. Being nice is the absolute bare minimum and something that everyone should feel and do.”
Your face crumbles, “Why are you so wise?”
Namjoon smiles, “I’m not. It’s called offering a different perspective. Just because I see things one way doesn’t make me any better than you who sees things in another. That’s why we meet different types of people throughout our lives. The good, the bad, the in-between. There’s always something people offer to us in the midst of chaos.”
You sigh.
“I’m sorry, Namjoon.”
He pats your head, “I said don’t apologise.”
“No, but I want to. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and you picked up a shitty situation to be in when Jungkook and Jennie were at the library. Even right after I kissed you. That was … a horrible thing to do. I shouldn’t have done that just because—just because I was confused … you don’t deserve that.”
He doesn’t look angry, and that’s even worst because you want him to react, to call you a bitch and say that you were a horrible person.
“I don’t.” He shrugs while you wince. “But a lot of the times we don’t deserve a lot of things that we get. And that’s okay. You did what you thought was justified then, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. But you’re hurting too, and you’re confused—that’s what drove you to do the things that you did, and even here. That’s why you’re apologising to me, right? Because you’re not as confused anymore?”
You shake your head.
“I am, I’m still so confused.” You whisper.
“Then let me offer you another perspective.”
You look up to him with big eyes as he smiles at you gently.
“You have feelings for Jungkook.” You immediately flinch, even if he didn’t hit you. But Namjoon continues. “You’re trying to keep the picture as simple as you can even if it hurts you in the process. But
“You don’t understand, Namjoon … we … did things … that I’m not proud off …”
“You don’t have to—”
“He was my first kiss. My first … sexual experience. Even if it was just … third base,” You cringe, but Namjoon isn’t judging you at all. “A-and that’s all I was to him. An experience.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Do I, Namjoon?” You say softly. “He said things to me that were so hurtful. And a stupid part of me forgives him but it still hurts every time I think about it and when I see him with Jennie.”
You whisper the words Jungkook’s said to you, and for the first time, you see Namjoon’s jaw harden. The most emotion that wasn’t rationale you’ve seen in Namjoon ever since you first arrived.
“I know it hurts.” He murmurs, holding you close. “And I really don’t want it to seem like I’m justifying his words … but would you want to hear me out?”
You purse your lips and nod nevertheless.
“Jungkook isn’t a bad person.” You blink, you never thought he was. “I know you don’t think he is but you want to. Because of the things he’s said to you because why would a good person say those kinds of things, right? But the world isn’t black and white like that. There’s a grey area where 99% of the population falls into because we operate on emotion and sometimes we say things that we may feel but not necessarily believe in.”
“Jungkook … he’s still young. And I know we’re in college and stuff but he’s still three years younger than I am and two years younger than you. He’s spoken to me about how hard it was to adjust to a high school life where you, Jimin and Tae weren’t a part of. And I don’t know about you but if the only friends I’ve ever known suddenly left because they had to … I wouldn’t know what to do either. He was at a point in his life where his environment played a huge part in the values and internalised beliefs he had.”
You look away as you reflect on his words, nibbling on your bottom lip.
“He mixed around with different groups of people, and I hate this saying but it’s still a common belief to many—especially people his age, almost out of high school. But the ‘boys will be boys’ mentality is more than just misogyny and sexism, but a culture where it feeds off complacency and peer pressure. Jungkook suddenly had to shift from three, good friends who were progressive and influential in an objectively good way to people he was obliged to like because they were his peers.”
You gape at him, purely because you knew that Namjoon was smart and wise but his introspection leaves you breathless and enlightened.
“But that doesn’t change the core of Jungkook,” Namjoon says. “He’s still Jungkook. He doesn’t know how to ask for things that he wants without feeling like he’s betraying his masculinity. And again, I’m not justifying his actions because he’s a grown man too. But he’s lost, and the only thing he knows to uphold this sense of masculinity is by being sexually liberated. Even if he conflates his own emotions with his endeavours.”
“I … I don’t even know what to say Namjoon.” You murmur, eyes looking up through your lashes.
“You don’t need to say anything. I just want you to be honest to yourself, not anyone else. But yourself.” He tells you, carding a gentle hand over your head.
You fiddle with your thumbs.
“What do you want?”
Despite you confiding two different people, you find yourself at a convenience store at 12AM, scarfing down ramen from a cup noodle because your mind was a funny place when it was muddled with a hundred different thoughts. You knew sleep wasn’t an option for you either, and you were hungry. But somehow you didn’t have anything back in your apartment that screamed ‘I’m in a crisis’ enough for you to eat.
Which is why you’re here, while the cashier keeps his eyeball to himself when he sees yet another college student who’s probably having their third mental breakdown of the day.
It is, but not for the right reasons, you think dryly.
You think you’re alone until the chime of the bell momentarily distracts you and you turn your head to acknowledge the next lone customer who may be going through their own set of issues, or had a fucked up sleeping schedule.
But you’re not expecting to make eye contact with Jennie, out of everyone or any stranger you could’ve come across.
She spots you, shoots you a weird look that has you nearly choking on a string of noodles before she moves on to what she came here to do and stops at the snack section, skimming through her options before she settles on a pack of shrimp chips. Your heart churns because they were Jungkook’s favourite. You don’t want to wonder why she picked them.
You turn to your noodles, scarf them down some more because you want to eat your thoughts away even if you’re half-considering to call Jungkook, tell him you wanted to talk. But you knew that if you spoke to him now when you were still sorting out your thoughts, you’d end up in a situation you won’t be ready to deal with.
So when you poke at your food and sigh to yourself, you almost miss the way the stool beside you scrapes against the floor as you cringe.
You turn to shoot a petty glare at the person, and you see Jennie; casually tearing open her chips and popping one into her mouth
You blink at her, and you’re left even more speechless when she juts her hand out as if to offer you a shrimp cracker. Like it was a weird symbol of a truce. Even if you weren’t really … enemies.
“Want some?”
You stare at her, and before you can think twice your lips are moving.
“The crackers or your company?” You say dryly.
Her eyes widen, and so does yours. You didn’t expect to say your exact thoughts and you don’t think she expected a quiet, timid girl like you to have said that—out loud at least. Like Yena said, everyone has a mean bone in them. Some longer and larger than others, but they were still there.
“Wow.” She huffs, but she doesn’t seem offended. “Rude, much?”
You wince and feel compelled to apologise. “Sorry.”
She waves you off and you feel odd to be sitting next to her. You always expected her to be more malicious, a lot more of a bitch. And you frown to yourself because you suppose it’s your own preconceived notions of her due to the association she has with Jungkook that had you thinking of her that way.
“What’s someone like you doing here on a weekday?” She asks off-handedly.
The term ‘someone like you’ doesn’t sit well with you, and you scowl.
“I’m eating. What does it look like?” You retort, and Jennie only raises an eyebrow at your response. Much like an angry kitten.
“Damn, I was just asking.” She mutters under her breath, “I’m hungry. Needed a snack.” She shakes the crackers in front of you, “You sure you don’t want one?”
You can’t believe her as you gape at her easy-going state when she thrusts the bag of crackers into your face yet again.
“No.” You furrow your brows, gently pushing it away as she shrugs her shoulders.
“It’s good.” She reasons, and you don’t know why she’s so adamant about having you take one.
The irrational part of you thinks she wants to poison you, to eliminate you for good so she won’t have to deal with your pathetic pining over a person that wasn’t even yours.
“I know.” You mutter. “I tried it before.”
Jennie nods her head slowly, observing the content of the packet on the back before she turns to face you, “Jungkook introduced this to me. Didn’t see the appeal but it’s addictive.”
You freeze, and your ramen soup is getting cold with the way you haven’t prodded at it for a while and in the air-conditioning in the convenience store. You feel your stomach drop, especially now that your initial suspicions were confirmed.
“That’s nice.” You grit. It really isn’t.
“Did he introduce it to you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.
Why you’re still talking to her, or why she was bothering to talk to you when she’s ignored you all this while—you aren’t sure. But you still answer her despite the spite that forms in your chest.
“I introduced it to him.” You inform.
She hums, unbothered. It only irritates you more.
“Is there a reason?” You huff. “Why you’re here?”
She raises an eyebrow, “I’m hungry?”
You scoff. “No.” You slam the table ever so slightly because even if you were annoyed and confused, you weren’t that brave and you didn’t want to cause a scene at a convenience store at midnight. “Why are you here. Talking to me.”
Jennie blinks at you, then stares at you for seconds too long that you flush under her unwavering stare before she ends up in a fit of giggles. You almost think she’s here to mock you, to call you out on your pathetic and humiliating pining for someone who doesn’t care about you the same way you do to him. But she pats you on the shoulder, and you want to think it’s condescending but it doesn’t seem that way at all.
“You’re an acquaintance. You looked like you needed the company.”
You frown, “I don’t.”
She rolls her eyes, munching on another chip.
“You do. Your posture looks depressing.”
“Excuse me?” You scowl.
“It’s true.” She shrugs. “You don’t seem the type to be here wallowing unless it’s really bad. You seem like you have your shit together.”
And because your mind is already muddled and confused, and filled with irrational thoughts. Her words set you off, and you seem to be underrating or overreacting more than usual. So you snap, you shove your cup aside that the soup nearly sloshes out and send her a glare so blazing that Jennie’s caught off guard.
“And you think you know me well enough to gauge whether or not I’m ‘like this’ or the type to have a perfect mental breakdown regimen because I’m smart?” You seethe. Jennie’s eyes widen. “I have mental breakdowns like every other student and I binge eat when I’m stressed and I fuck up from time to time. I curse, yes! I see your face. Oh does she not curse? Well, look at me, bitch. I can curse like a motherfucking sailor at sea when the fishes come because I’m human. I’m just like you. So fuck off with your ‘you seem like you have your shit together’ because I don’t and I’m so fucking annoyed with your stupid face whenever I see it because it only reminds me of Jungkook!”
The silence is defining, even the cashier stops counting his bills for the night because you don’t hear the rubbing of money together. You feel his stare on your back, and more pressingly, you feel Jennie’s shocked expression linger on your face, and now that you’ve come down from your rage. Your face heats up in embarrassment.
You don’t even recall what you said, except for the fact you’ve mentioned her and Jungkook in the same sentence. And your face pales.
“I …” She chokes.
You flush, before you’re turning away, snatching your belongings to leave and forget this convenience store and never return because you don’t think you can show your face here ever again.
But before you’re able to make a run for it, a hand grabs your elbow that stops you from moving any further.
“This is already as embarrassing—” You exasperate, trying to snatch your arm away.
“For a girl so smart, you’re really dumb, aren’t you?” She deadpans.
You gape, finding enough strength to retrieve your arm as you stare at her with a dumbfounded expression.
“Excuse me—?”
“Firstly, let’s unpack what you just said because there are a lot of things that need to be dissected here.” She says blankly.
You scowl, “Look I don’t—”
“One.” She blinks as if she was doing a presentation for a course and not talking to an alleged acquaintance. “I don’t think you should act a certain way just because you’re smart. You’re entitled to your own mechanisms and I’m not judging you for them. I was simply pointing out my own observations, and I’m sorry for being insensitive.”
You’re stunned to silence, because did Jennie just … apologise to you?
“Two.” She says. You listen silently. “I think you have things you need to talk to Jungkook about, and frankly—I would’ve stayed away if I knew that the two of you were a thing.”
“We’re not a thing!” You cry, face flushed.
She shoots you an unimpressed look, “Really. So that oddly targeted blow-up was because of your mental breakdown and not because you don’t have feelings for Jungkook?”
She’s the third person to call you out the same day, or within the first one in the next. And it’s even more embarrassing because it’s the girl you’ve compared yourself to countless times because of your own insecurities.
“Yes.” You snap childishly.
Jennie sighs, gesturing for you to sit on the stool. You want to defy her out of spite, but you’ve already gotten this far into the conversation and you feel like you’d miss out on something if you left now.
“Why are you mad at me?” She asks.
“I-I’m not mad—” You weakly protest.
“You are. There’s anger in you and if it’s not directed to Jungkook then it’s directed to me. Is it because I’m a woman?”
Your eyes widen, “What—?”
“Let me reword that,” She sighs. “Is it because I’m the woman with Jungkook?”
You flinch at her declaration, especially since she indirectly confessed to being with him, while you weren’t.
“I don’t …” You trail off in a whisper.
“I don’t blame you for being angry.” She says. “But I need you to understand that I would never have done anything with him if I knew that the two of you were together.”
“We’re not.” You blink, and her unimpressed look is still there that makes you speak a little louder. “We’re not together.”
She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. You see her furrow her eyebrows before she settles for a response that comes a few moments after.
“Okay, then if you’re not together then why the resentment?” She puts it so simply and now that you’re listening to her, you feel a lot stupider.
“I just …” You croak, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t …”
She sighs, “Listen. We’re both women here. I know how it feels to be left in the dark when it comes to things like this but there’s no point in being angry at me when in reality it’s Jungkook you need to talk to. If you aren’t together then I don’t understand why you’re angry with me—or with him.”
You sit there in silence, nearly pouting like a scolded child.
“You’re his type.” You say softly.
Jennie pauses before she raises an eyebrow.
“And you believe that?”
You furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, of course?” You mumble, “You’re pretty, confident and sexy. Any guy would like you.”
For a moment, you think you’ve said too much. Looked to vulnerable. But Jennie doesn’t do the typical mean girl thing where she laughs in your face and threatens to expose you. Instead, her eyes soften, and her hand reaches out to hold yours.
“____.” She calls your name gently, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re pretty. You’re confident. You are sexy.”
You flush, “No. I’m not.”
She scoffs, “_____, there isn’t a set definition of what a pretty woman is like. Nor is there a one-dimensional understanding of a confident woman. There are confident women who strut in their walk and commands all the attention in the room. But there are also quiet, assured women who are intelligent and confident in their capabilities. Both of them are so different, but the one thing that they have in common?” She prompts as your eyebrows furrow. “They’re both women who are worthy of love.”
You blink up at her when her tone goes softer.
“I don’t think I’m Jungkook’s type.” She tells you.
But for some reason you need to deny it, again.
“I think you are.” You mumble, “You’re … you. And you’re probably … experienced.” You cringe at what you say, and you’re mortified if you need to explain yourself to her. But Jennie immediately picks up on it, and you don’t notice how she tenses for a split second but recovers immediately.
“We’ve done things together, yes.” You feel your heart shatter, “But you don’t have to do anything with him for him to like you.”
You sigh, “Maybe. But that's the only way he’s ever wanted me.” You say so softly that Jennie almost doesn’t catch it.
Jennie’s face softens much more, turning into a much gentler expression as she nudges your chin to look at her. And when you do, you feel wounded. You feel so much less assured than you were when you were raging at her. You hated it, how she treated you so kindly when she should’ve been cursing at you like you did to her.
“Do you want to know something?” She asks.
You nibble on your lips before you nod your head.
“If someone doesn’t want you. It’s not because you’re lacking. It’s because they’re lacking the sense to perceive you in a way that recognises your inherent worth to be loved.”
Your breath hitches and Jennie continues.
“I’ve had instances where men didn’t want to sleep with me because I was too confident, too sexually liberated for them. As if who I slept with mattered because it wasn’t them. It was never going to be them.”
“I didn’t sleep with Jungkook.” You tell her, voice soft as if you needed to clarify.
“And you don’t need to. You don’t need to sleep with anyone for them to want you. If Jungkook only wants you for your body then he doesn’t deserve you.” She points out.
You feel your heart clench, and the realisation coming from Jennie only hurts even more.
“But he’s important to me …” You whisper.
“What’s important is not always what’s good for you.” She informs you with a gentle smile. “Your sexuality is yours. And if you want to sleep or be sexual with someone, you do it because you want to. Not because someone coerced you into doing it.”
Your eyes widened, “N-No. Jungkook didn’t force me. I consented. To all of it.” You murmur, “I wanted to do it. B-But I just felt so … lacking? In comparison and … since then all he’s came to me for was just … that.”
Jennie nibbles on her bottom lip, “Jungkook’s not a bad person.” She says softly. And she’s the second person that tells you that. So you know it’s a true reflection of his character.
“I know.”
She smiles, “We both do.” She nods, “But he’s misguided. He’s never had the ability to be with someone he really cares for and I think when that happened—he dealt with it the only way he knows how to.”
You furrow your brows, “But he’s with you.”
She shakes her head with a small chuckle, “No. Not emotionally, at least.” She informs. “And he doesn’t care about me. I know. He’s always kept me at arms-length away, and I’m fine with that because I don’t like him like that either.”
You blink, and your ears turn red. “H-How do you—?”
“How do I separate lust from affection?” She laughs. “It’s because I can. Not everyone can do that, and Jungkook is one of them.”
“But you just said that he didn’t care about you.”
“I’m not talking about me,” She smiles sadly.
Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion until you realise what she was implying. And you don’t want to assume anything, never. Because hope was the one feeling that was worse than fear and you didn’t want to subject yourself to that just yet.
“Oh.” You mumble.
She nods, squeezing your hand.
“I think he misses you.”
You purse your lips.
You missed him, too.
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