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cupofteaguk · 6 years ago

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take my hand

( let’s see where we wake up tomorrow )

summary: you lose your memory in a car crash, and Jungkook desperately tries to keep both of your lives intertwined. this in itself proves to be a challenge, especially when you can only remember him as the idol you once adored from afar.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: idol au, established relationship au | angst

warnings: a memory loss au, there’s angst but it’s a happy ending don’t worry i would never do that to you guys

word count: 11k

Jungkook never paid too much attention to those moments in life where he would figuratively hit the wall and knock the wind out of himself, until he gets the call from the hospital. And then he’s running, dashing fast and wild as quickly as his legs can take him, his mind clouded with so much fear, so much apprehension that even when he can no longer breathe he forces himself to keep running. He feels as if he might lose his mind, already grappling with deniability over his situation, the only thing that can remain consistent throughout his mind is you.

“Are you Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s emergency contact?”

Jungkook stills, pausing in his momentary movement to wipe the sweat that has formed across his face in recovery from the intense dance practice session all the boys have just ended. “Uh, yes I am,” He answers, furrowing his eyebrows together at the seriousness of the situation, his disposition changing in such a drastic manner that all the other boys stop what they’re doing as well to watch the maknae. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m letting you know that Y/N was recently involved in a car accident and was rushed here under critical condition. She’s undergoing surgery now but—!”

“I’ll be right there,” Jungkook interrupts in a breath, the panicking settling in before the gravity of what has just happened to you really weighs in his mind. He doesn’t wait for the nurse on the other end of the line before he’s hanging up and pocketing his phone. His heart starts to race, making the blood pump quicker as air leaves and enters his lungs at an alarming quickened pace. “I have to go,” He relays to the guys, grabbing his jacket off the couch.

“Woah, woah, Jungkookie, what’s going on?” Jimin inquires, straightening from his seated position on the polished wooden floor. “Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not,” Jungkook says, desperately trying to pull himself from the conversation so he could make his way to the hospital. “Y/N got into a car accident. She’s in surgery right now, I have to go—I have to see how she’s doing.”

“Let me come with you,” Namjoon interjects, already joining Jungkook’s side, jacket on.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair. “Whatever. I’m running, so keep up.”

Namjoon dismisses Jungkook’s words for stress as he merely nods, following the younger boy out of the studio and dashing down the street. The hospital you have been rushed to is nearby, thank god, only a few blocks away from where Jungkook stands, but it feels like miles stretched on for miles. He runs, runs, runs faster than his legs can possibly carry him, huffing and puffing but never quite moving fast enough.

Jungkook and Namjoon burst through the doors of the hospital, red-faced and panting slightly from the sprint they’ve just performed. Not even allowing himself to catch a breath, Jungkook makes his way to the front desk, probably terrifying the poor nurse behind the counter as he practically slams his palms against the surface.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook,” He relays, attempting to calm his heart and his breathing, but it’s no use as he stands here, desperately trying to catch his breath and not lose his mind over the future state of his girlfriend. “I just got a call about my girlfriend getting into a car accident.”

“Ah, yes!” The nurse exclaims, pulling up a file. “She’s still in surgery, but I was just notified that her condition is stable.”

Jungkook exhales, closing his eyes and relaxing his shoulders a little, not even realizing they had been tense to begin with. Namjoon appears by his side, having overheard the news, and rests a hand comfortingly on Jungkook’s shoulder. He swallows, then opens his eyes again. “Can I—can I ask what happened? Or do you not know?”

“From what we’ve heard from witness reports, the man sped across a red light and hit the passenger side of Y/N’s car. It rolls over a few times, but from the reports her car has a taller roof so it didn’t compress in as much as a smaller car would have—so there hasn’t been much damage to her neck or spinal cord. According to the doctor diagnosis, she got a lot of glass shards in her arm and the status of her legs are unconfirmed. The airbag deployment definitely helped ensure minimal damage to her face and chest, but it did knock her unconscious.”

Jungkook’s hands dig into the counter’s edge, his vision swimming in a way that he hadn’t even realized until he physically has to turn away and blink quickly to rid of the tears. The idea of anything hurting you pained him to the degree of which he couldn’t bear it, and if he’s this way from just hearing about the status of your current condition, he almost can’t even begin to think about what it would be like to see you in person.

Namjoon interjects. “Thank you for letting us know.”

The nurse nods, eying Jungkook with pity and concern dancing behind her eyes. “You’re both more than welcome to stay in the waiting lounge—the doctor in charge of her operation will get you when the surgery is done.”

With one last nod, Namjoon pulls Jungkook away from the counter, settling them both in vacant chairs. Namjoon watches carefully as Jungkook wrings his hands together, overlapping one across the other as his chokes on the sobs that so desperately slip past his lips. The maknae can’t even look at the older boy right now, choosing instead to keep his head bowed as he tightens the grip he has on his own hands.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Namjoon whispers, trying to rub the shoulders of the younger boy to calm his down. “You heard the nurse, she’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” Jungkook grumbles out, finally straightening up, eyes already puffy as he wipes frantically at the tears rolling down his face. “Just, the fact that this even happened to her, I just—I don’t know what I’m going to do—!”

“Hey,” Namjoon interrupts calmly. “All the guys are with you two, okay? You’ll get through this, but you need to be strong for Y/N, she’s going to be going through a lot when she gets out of the surgery.”

Jungkook rests his hands into the palm of his hands, trying to divert his attention to something else, anything to keep his heart from stuttering painfully against his chest. He calms his breathing, counting his heart rate and focusing his panting to slow down into something that doesn’t leave him light-headed. “You’re right—I’m sorry hyung.”

Jungkook can’t tell if it’s a blessing or a curse that the pair of them get an hour and a half of agonizingly long silence before hearing anything regarding your condition, because even though he gets the time he needs to sort through his thoughts, get his mind together, and breathe normally again, it’s an hour and a half of just complete submersion in absolute darkness. He paces, plays on his phone, trying anyway to keep himself distracted even though his heart is truly not into anything he tries to emerge into. Everything he does is painted over with his concern for you and how he could let something like this happen to you.

Finally, a doctor steps through into the waiting lounge, readjusting his coat as he approaches the front desk to discuss something with the nurse behind the counter, who points her finger at Namjoon and Jungkook. Namjoon takes note of this first, gently shaking Jungkook’s shoulder as the latter looks up and practically springs up and out of his seat as the doctor approaches the pair of them.

“Which one of you is Jungkook?” The doctor inquires, to which Jungkook steps forward. He takes the outstretched right hand. “Thanks for coming. We’ve just transferred her into a room. We had to remove the glass shards from her arm, equating to about 20 stitches along there. One of her legs is broken, we’re assuming it’s the same one on the gas pedal. She suffered a slight concussion, but we haven’t been able to monitor how it’s affected her brain activity yet. She was in a lot of pain when she woke up, so we gave her a lot of pain killers but it’s made her pretty drowsy as the after effect. It’s definitely going to take some rest, but she’ll be okay—your girlfriend is really strong.”

Jungkook feels like his heart must burst and maybe he’ll start crying again, but he is desperate to maintain a strong front which is why he musters the shakiest of smiles. “I know,” He whispers, returning his hands to his sides which ball into fists.

Namjoon studies this before turning to the doctor. “Would it, ah, be okay for him to see her?”

The doctor nods. “You’re more than welcome to come along,” He says, referring to Namjoon, who politely rebuffs the offer with the knowledge that Jungkook would definitely want some alone time with you.

With a grateful smile, Jungkook follows the doctor down the hallway, taking in the too white walls and feels his stomach mixing with distaste. He’s always avoided hospitals for personal reasons, only really associating them with pain and recovery and clean walls that hold too many secrets. But he keeps his gaze ahead, fixated on the doctor’s back as the former finally stops at a door with your name written across a white board.

“Take your time,” The doctor says, one last smile of parting before he places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and dismissing himself with a bow. Jungkook smiles a little at the man before looking down to clear his thoughts, trying not to be too hopeful about getting to talk to you right out of the gate. He takes note of the doctor’s comment, saying that you were drugged on a lot of pain medication.

Holding his breath, Jungkook pushes open the door, stepping inside the room and immediately becoming bathed in the smell of medical equipment—but there’s still something lingering around the room that fills every sense in his body of you.

Turning his gaze around, he finally sees you on the bed and he thinks his heart might burst. Even though he can clearly recall the last time he saw you, which had been earlier than day, it really feels like lifetimes ago when he saw your smile or felt your arms wrapping themselves around him. You always made his life normal, different, and better in a way he could never have pictured when he officially stepped into the spotlight as an idol. You gave him peace and comfort, and he long desires for that again as he steps closer to you. There are a variety of IV needles in your body, along your arm, a clip around your finger that connects to a heart monitor and it hurts Jungkook to see you this way.

Even though he’s always liked to think of himself an invincible, untouchable on the platform from which he stood across the world, you’ve always been different—smaller, more fragile, more caring and compassionate, not use to the harsh words and burdens that come with being known by everyone and absolutely no one at the same time. You’ve always put up such a strong front for him.

These memories swim up in his mind, much like the tears that resurface in his eyes after he thought he had smashed them down into places they could no longer drift upon. He had promised Namjoon to put up a stable wall for himself, to be strong for both himself and you, but seeing you in such a state after he swore he would do anything and everything in his power to keep you safe drives his emotions overboard.

“Hey…” Jungkook manages, voice cracking slightly as he approaches you slowly, sliding down into the vacant chair beside your bed. He doesn’t hesitate twice to reach out for your hand, curling his fingers with yours, relishing in your touch because even though it’s cold it’s filled with so much familiarity that his heart aches. It reminds him of how delicate everything is, how no one plans for life to throw them curve balls that send them hanging in the balance. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. I ran as fast as I could to get here, but you were still in surgery.”

He laughs a little.

“I mean, how crazy is it that you got into an accident like this…” He trails off, gaze flinting upwards to study your peaceful, sleeping expression, letting himself wonder just how much pain will dance behind the eyes as you opened them. He promises himself that he’ll be around as often as he can be, helping you through every step of the way, holding your hand, driving you to as much physical therapy as you needed, giving you moral support as he helped nurse you back to health.

He would do anything to make sure you could be okay again.

Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s crying again until he feels the shake of his lower lip, something that cannot even be calmed even when he tries to bite his lip. His hands grasp so tightly around your that they shake as he presses the joined fingers against his forehead. “Please be okay,” He whimpers, choked sobs bubbling out from the back of his throat, the emotions of hopelessness so overpowering it blurs out everything else. “Please wake up, because I promise I will do anything and everything to be there for you. I’ll do anything to take the pain away, so please wake up soon—and please be okay.”

He ends up falling asleep in the chair later that evening, when the hours have graced by as if grains of sand slipping through his fingers. He doesn’t care though, because every second that ticks by means a second closer to the drugs fading away from your bloodstream, a second closer to seeing you see him, where he’ll do anything to make you smile and reassure you that the pair of you were going to get through this. And Jungkook is hopeful—so, so hopeful that it aches his heart and his chest and he’s willing to sacrifice anything and everything to help shoulder your pain.

The following morning sunrays gleam in through the windows of the hospital room, shining against Jungkook’s eyes, making him stir in his sleep before his eyes peel open to welcome the new day. You’re still next to him, sleeping, heart monitor pulsing at a normal speed—albeit, it sounds much more technical hearing it through a machine rather than through his own ears pressed against your chest, but it’s a reassuring thing to witness.

There is a gentle knock at the door, before it is pushed open and a nurse appears. “Y/N has some visitors.”

Jungkook nods, and the door opens wider to reveal the rest of Bangtan, slipping quietly into the room before the nurse clicks the door shut, leaving with a bow.

“Hi,” Jungkook says, straightening out of his chair and approaching the boys.

Yoongi cranes his neck to study you. “How’s she doing?”

Jungkook follows Yoongi’s gaze. “They said her condition is stable. She knocked out yesterday from all the pain medication they had her on, but hopefully she’ll be waking up soon.”

Namjoon turns to look at the youngest. “How are you holding up, Jungkook?”

“I’m okay,” Jungkook manages, picking his words carefully. “I know it’s going to be hard for her, but we’ll get through it together.”

“Guys, I think she’s awake,” Jimin interjects, his voice picking up a few octaves, sounding frantic and rushed leaving his lips so suddenly.

And Jungkook cannot whirl around quick enough, his nerves cannot respond quick enough as he spins where he stands, stopping abruptly as it hits him that you’re really awake and you’re really here—conscious and aware, and even though it’s definitely been under 24 hours, it feels so much longer than that. It feels like lifetimes have stretched, time has been distorted, mountains carved between you. He finds that the only thing he can really do now that you’re really present is simply stare, wide-eyed as he watches your movements very carefully.

You’re looking out the window, blinking every few seconds to study the breeze whipping through the trees outside, before you finally turn your neck. Jungkook feels as if his heart might burst into a million different pieces when you finally stop to look at him. You still slightly in your gestures, eyes widening, lips parting, a faint sort of realization dawning behind your eyes.

Jungkook can almost taste how excited he is. He can almost picture himself now, running into your arms as you whispered his name, bursting into tears about how scared you had been, and how you thought you would never be able to see him again. He would probably cry too, holding you close and telling you that it was going to be alright, and he was alright and he was alright and even if you still have a mountain to go over, everything could be alright in the world again.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is the gasp you make, eyes practically the size of saucer plates now as your chest starts to heave, the heart monitor next to you quickening, beating at an irregular pace that makes all the boys straighten in worry.

“It’s…you—you’re—!” You pant out, not really sure what to do with your body as you lean further back into your hospital bed.

Jungkook darts forward, pushing the chair out of the way as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you, reaching forward to cup your cheeks with both of his hands.

“You…” You whisper out, eyes wide.

“Yes, yes Y/N, it’s me,” Jungkook whispers back, eyes flickering across your face, eyebrows furrowed as he desperately tries to figure out why you couldn’t seem to grasp that he was here right in front of you. How could you be so surprised, after he promised that he would always be there for you no matter his schedule and no matter his previous engagements?

Your eyes are not filled with that love and adoration you always had when you looked at him. They are still wide, but with surprise, awe, and a surface familiarity as if you knew who he was, but you couldn’t believe that he was really here.

“Y-You’re Jeon Jungkook.”

He blinks, taken aback. “Y/N, what are you—!”

“Jeon Jungkook, of Bangtan Boys. Right?” You whisper, eyes flickering the boys still standing near the door. It appears they have all heard the conversation, because their own facial expressions are plagued with a mixture of horror, disbelief, and utter confusion. “And those are the rest of the guys in the group.” You shift your gaze back to him, heart rate still going strong as he feels the warmth against your cheeks, a sure sign of your increasing nervousness. “I—I really love your music, but what are you all doing here?”

With a gasp, Jungkook rips himself away from you as if you had just burned him.

You gaze up at him, doe eyes and lips parted. “Is something wrong? Did I have something on my face, is that why you were touching me?”

Jungkook thinks he might need a heart monitor for himself now, given that he can no longer keep track of how fast it’s beating. It thrums through his whole body, pumping too much blood to his head while he is simply in a standstill. He’s staring at you and you’re staring at him, but it’s all wrong because you’re looking at him as if you don’t even know him anymore. He doesn’t know what sort of truths glimmer in his own eyes, but it must be too much intimacy, too much knowledge for you to handle because you are the first to rip your gaze away.

Jungkook already has an idea of what happened to you, why you look at him but don’t really see him, but his mind is fogging with disbelief as he stares at you helplessly. “I have to get some air,” He whispers, darting out of the room, pushing past the boys and into the hall. There is a combination of panic, confusion, deniability, that he doubles over, heaving and choking and sputtering. The weight he has placed against the wall is the only way he can ensure his legs won’t give out entirely on him.

“Jungkook?” Namjoon inquires, pushing open the room to your door and clicking it close. He takes in the maknae’s troubled state. “Hey, Jungkook, it’s gonna be okay—!”

“How can you say that?” Jungkook snaps, voice gruff from his hunched over position. “Did you see the way she looked at me? She doesn’t know who I am.”

“It’s probably just a temporary thing,” Namjoon tries to reassure in a comforting manner. “The shock from the accident must have tampered with her brain—but I’m sure it’ll come back—!”

“What if it doesn’t?” Jungkook retorts, straightening up to face his friend. “What if she never gets her memory back? What if she’s doomed to only remember me as a performer, never knowing seeing me beyond that and never remembering me for me, when I can still trace out her face with my mind and know when she’s sleeping based off the way she breathes—!”

He drops his face into the palm of his hands, muffling the words and the oncoming wave of sobs that rock through his body. It’s too much emotion and pain for him to shoulder in such a short period of time, and it shows in the blurred gazes and spinning mind. It doesn’t help when he closes his eyes, because all he can see behind his lids is the way you looked at him during the first few seconds of realization. The wide eyes, warning bells like sirens flashing, you had almost looked afraid of him, unseated by his presence and not understanding why he was in your life.

“Jungkook, I know this must be a hard time for you right now,” Namjoon says quietly, craning his neck down slightly to whisper the words in the younger boy’s ear, ensuring that only he would be able to hear it. “But you have to calm down and be strong—not just for yourself, but for her as well. She’s probably a lot more scared than you are.”

Jungkook forces his breathing to even out, counting the beating of his heart in his ear as he slowly opens his eyes. Namjoon is right. Jungkook may be terrified of what the future could hold for the pair of you, but that only gives you more the reason to be worried, scared, confused. He immediately tells himself to get a grip, willing to do whatever he could to keep a handle on his relationship with you, support you even if you could never truly understand why.

“Okay,” He manages, taking a few shaky breaths before releasing, hoping his eyes aren’t as puffy as they feel. “Thank you hyung.”

Namjoon gives out a reassuring smile, patting the maknae on the back, gesturing for the pair of them to return into the hospital room.

You are still in bed, IV’s hooked up, heart monitor at a relatively more steady pace, staring almost bashly at something Jimin is showing you on his phone. Your gaze finds Jungkook first and your bite your lip nervously at the sight of his return.

“You’re my boyfriend?” You inquire softly, Jimin looking over his shoulder to study Jungkook. The words sound awkward coming out of your mouth, bending into an incredulous question, as if you couldn’t possibly fathom why Jungkook would even want to be with you in the first place.

Jungkook can feel his heart sinking at the gravity of the question. It’s almost unsettling to see that you’re not as confident as you once were about your own standing in Jungkook’s life—although to be fair, you had been relatively shy when the pair of you first met. It was that friendship foundation that made developing a relationship much easiest, so to be thrust into that relationship first must be a lot for you to handle. “Yes,” He answers quickly, not sure what else to add on afterwards.

He is saved the awkwardness of trying to scramble for a further description—knowing Jungkook, it was probably going to be something about what kind of girlfriend you were, which would only make things worse (as if you had something to live up to)—but the door opens and the doctor steps through.

“Ah, I see you’re awake now,” He says, flipping through his clipboard. “How are you feeling Y/N?”

“Um… alright—my arm does hurt a little…”

“I suppose your muscles are still trying to heal over the cuts the glass made…”

“Sir, I think there’s also another problem…” You continue, flickering your gaze over to Jungkook.

Even though you probably don’t realize it, Jungkook can instantly recognize the look you’re giving him whenever you were in desperate need of help. “Y/N doesn’t remember me sir,” Jungkook explains, taking a step forward. “She doesn’t remember our friendship or our relationship—and she can’t seem to remember the other boys either.”

The doctor still slightly to look over his paperwork to study you. “Hm, well, that is a problem.” He skims over a file that contains a more detailed report of your injuries from the accident. “When we did the scan on her, we knew that the concussion would have some sort of negative affect on her mind and the part of her brain that processes more recent long term memory, we just didn’t know how long—Y/N?”

You look over at the doctor to show that he has your full attention.

“Do you think you could tell me the most recent thing you can remember?”

You bite your lip, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. You shift your gaze off to the side of the room, looking so infinitely hopeless and confused that Jungkook has to ball his hands into fists at his side to keep him from running to you.

“Um…” You look down to run your hands over one another. “I remember, I had just left home a few weeks ago to move to Seoul—I had just gotten a new job—working at a Kpop label—for PR.”

Jungkook does the mental calculation in his head, remembering the tale you spun to him of moving to the big city to chase your dreams, how it happened a few months after graduating from the college in your city.

The realization hits him like a bucket of ice cold dread.

One year ago. You moved to Seoul one year ago—your memory from the past twelve months has been completely wiped from your consciousness. This means that all the friends you had made from Big Hit, the evening the pair of you ran into one another in the hallway, those late nights spent in the dorms playing video games and watching anime, dancing around each other because everyone else seemed to know the gravity of your feelings for one another before the pair of you had the slightest idea, and the seven months of dating that followed—you didn’t remember any of that.

Jungkook thinks this might be enough to get him to start dry heaving again, maybe actually vomit up a combination of worry, panic, regret, confusion, anxiety all across the floor. But Namjoon’s tight grip on his shoulder keeps him grounded—Jungkook thinks he must have turned an alarming shade of green at the news.

“That was one year ago,” Jungkook whispers when the doctor turns to get the most accurate report of your memories. “Y/N moved to Seoul one year ago—does that mean—?”

“Her memories from the past year have been wiped permanently from her consciousness?” The doctor fills in. “Perhaps not permanently—she might have been going through a lot of internal trauma before blacking out. But I can’t give you a more accurate result until we do a few more tests. For now, we’ll just have to hope her memory will come back in time. Or, even not everything—just pieces of it.”

The ride up the elevator easily ranks under Jungkook’s mental list of “Top Five Most Awkward Moments He’s Ever Shared With You”. Of course, it’s not enough to trump over that time he knocked over an entire table worth of food and drinks in front of the whole label crew because he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye and followed you from a distance until—well, you get the idea. Or even that time while the pair of you were in the early stages of your relationship, participating in one of your first insane make-out sessions on the couch in your apartment and he was so excited about finally finally getting to kiss you—until he burped into your mouth.

You had forgiven him before he could really begin with the frantic apologies, but you would never let him live it down. It was all done in loving fun, and that might have been the moment he realized he was in love with you.

Still, each moment of his list has consisted of their own little pains and those milliseconds moments that would make him cringe for months afterwards even if they were all barely laughable memories later on.

The ride up with you in the elevator is almost an entirely different story, yet so much silence it practically eats at Jungkook’s skin because he’s sure he’ll be wincing about the awkwardness just plaguing the air, threatening to swallow him whole.

“So, we live here?” You inquire softly, eyes wide as they roam across every corner of the elevator space. “Together?”

Jungkook looks over at you just as you’re turning your gaze further away from him. “Yeah,” He answers quietly, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets to give himself something to keep them distraction. “I originally picked the place, but it was joint agreement.”

“Hm,” You hum quietly, leaning a little on the crutches underneath your arm, your right leg wrapped to ensure no provocation would hurt your broken leg further.

His eyes trace over the bandage around your arm, the thought of glass shards breaking the skin enough to make him physically sick. Although you muscles have recovered over the damage over the past few days you spend at the hospital, the limb is still sensitive. The cuts along your face have healed, leaving scars behind his fingers long to reach over and trace. But the memory of the first time he attempted to do that the day after the accident constantly stops him—in which you had flinched, eyes widening at the discomfort of, essentially, a stranger touching you.

Jungkook hasn’t been able to get that mental picture out of his head. He almost wishes you would return to that doe-eyed version of yourself when you first awoke, the girl who couldn’t stop staring gazing at what you only knew to be the performer persona of Jungkook. At least then you could still look at him as if he had hung up all the stars in the sky—and even though it wouldn’t be the same thing, you would still be able to look him in the eye.

It doesn’t surprise him how quickly it had taken the initial shock of that realization to fade away, only to be replaced with the version of yourself he first met back in the hallways of Big Hit Entertainment. There was that passion, that ambition, that confidence and friendliness—and yet, it was all hidden under layers of delicate shyness, quietness, petals of an introvert that had taken a few months to peel away. Now, you could barely keep up a conversation with him without looking as if you were about to combust into flames—your voice would shutter and the skin along your cheekbones would darken or dust with enough of a deepen hue that gave away your nervousness and longing to leave.

And Jungkook fucking hates it. The fact that he can’t magically dispel your discomfort with a touch of his hand only leaves more of that uselessness in his bones. Maybe he’s coming on too strong each time, much too eager to resurface memories of your past, and it shows—!

“You know,” He starts before he can stop himself, traces of a smile overcoming his lips. “We use to have a race up the stairs to see who could get there first. Most of the time I won, but sometimes I let you win just to see you smile…” He clamps his mouth shut, but it’s too late. The memory has been revealed.

He casts a look at you and you look incredibly nauseous. “I’m sorry,” You whisper, still not looking entirely at him. “It sounds like a wonderful memory—now I’m just a burden, making us take the elevator like this…”

Shit. “N-No, that wasn’t what I mean,” Jungkook interjects, turning towards you and reaching out to grip your shoulders but he stops himself. He already knows his words have a tendency to come off too strong for you, so physical gestures would only make things worse. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t bring up something like that.”

You let out a sigh and shake your head. “No, it’s okay. It might be… nice to hear some of those stories. It might help jog some of my memories.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything in response. Really, what could he say to you? He longs to share so many stories with you, they’re all ready at the tip of his tongue, but the fear that you wouldn’t understand the backstories of them forces his mouth shut. “I’ll keep that in mind,” He whispers, looking up when the elevator dings at their corresponding floor.

He gestures for you to exit first, slowing his pace down considerably so you could follow behind on your crutches.

“Here we are.” He clears his throat, feeding the key into the keyhole and twisting, pushing open at the door to reveal home. It’s plague with the scent and memory of you, photo frames lining the walls and atop tables and counters, the baby blue and tan color palette against the wooden floor. “You did a lot of the decorating.”

He watches you balance your way into the apartment, eyes taking in all the details from the polaroids and the lights and the couch, the sliding doors opening to a balcony overlooking the city. You feel that twinge in your heart because despite its homely appearance, it’s unfamiliar and it’s supposed to be welcoming but still feels like entering the home of a friend you’ve just met—you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook inquires tentatively, watching you carefully, tilting his head to try and see what kind of response the question will draw out.

You look at Jungkook for the split of a second before looking away. “It is lovely,” You whisper.

“Here—uh, you should sit down,” Jungkook states, taking careful steps towards you and bringing his hand up to the small of your back. Ignoring the way you tense slightly at the gesture, which has been used with the intention of providing comfort and reassurance, he helps guide you to the couch. Despite your struggling, given you’re still adapting to the inability to use both your legs at your leisure, you grit your teeth and keep your mouth shut before settling yourself down on the couch. “Does it hurt anywhere?” He tries, reading your furrowed eyebrows.

You swallow thickly, ignoring the piercing buzz underneath your arm. “No, I’m okay,” You lie.

Jungkook watches the way you grip gently at your arm and has to look away, running a hand through his hair in a mixture of hopelessness and agitation. How was he supposed to fulfill his promise in taking care of you if you were just going to lie about it? “Y/N, if it hurts anywhere, you have to tell me okay?” He says, trying to keep his voice gentle and light.

You manage a shaky smile. “I will.”

Even Jungkook doesn’t want to doubt you, he is unable to rid of the question regarding whether or not you actually would.

Jungkook never considered a month to be remotely long, especially provided in the context of which he could spend that month with you. Time always seemed to simultaneously slow down and speed up whenever it was spent in your presence, and it never really mattered the pair of you could be doing. It could be watching movies, or attempting to cook, or wandering around the city—this is usually done on very rare occasions, considering people could recognize Jungkook quite easily even though the pair of you were public with your relationship it’s never enough for Jungkook to want to keep you out for too long.

But the first month after the accident is probably the longest month he’s ever spent with you—and not in a good way.

It takes a lot of reassurance on his part to ensure that you would be more vocal about your varying degrees of pain during the day—especially after you admitted with a smile and a laugh that you didn’t want to come off as whiny to Jungkook and demand too much, since “you always have so much on your mind anyways—you know, with practice and performances and such”. He’s still working on trying to get you to call him whenever you get those spikes of pain, considering you still can’t use your leg to its fullest potential to get your medicine—even though you’ve been able to rid of the crutches and the cast.

Like he said—still working on that one. He hates that he has to go to practice more than he gets to spend time with you, since he’s sure that his hyungs are starting to get irritated by the fact that he could barely get through a song before fishing out his phone to see if you called him or texted him. You never do, but he constantly worries otherwise.

Although, thinking about it, he’s not sure if it would be of any benefit for him to just linger around with you in the apartment. It’s been one month, and he can tell you’re still having trouble adjusting to the fact that you actually lived with him. It’s like everyday you spend with him is like some sort of strange dream—and every morning you wake up and start slightly at the sight of him in the kitchen. Or, at the very least, you would give him that infinitely troubled look before disappearing in the bathroom.

It’s as if everyday you saw him, you couldn’t believe he stayed and continues to stay with you and he hates the feeling of isolation you’ve built around yourself.

It’s like a stab in the heart. He knows that you’re trying to help him rebuild this relationship, but your fear of disclosing too much and Jungkook’s fear of trying to initiate too much intimacy that it’ll force you out the door keeps the pair of you at bay.

The worse stunt you’ve pulled on him yet occurred one week after the accident, overnight, when he awoke the following morning only to find your side of the bed completely devoid of your presence. He had started slightly, dashing out of the room, ready to call anyone and everyone about your disappearance before he found you on the couch, completely knocked out.

The fact that you couldn’t even stand to sleep in the same bed as him anymore really got to Jungkook. He already knew he was losing his mind gradually over the distance you were (probably) unknowingly carving between the two of you—but it’s taking its toll on him. It affects his sleep schedule, his ability to pick up dance moves with ease, his upbeat nature during promotions and photoshoots, and even when the camera was on him during filming for Bangtan TV.

But it’s a month and a half after the accident when he really thinks he might lose his mind because it’s midnight when he arrives back to the apartment after a long day of practice. He opens the door to find you on the couch, flipping through some television, but your gaze immediately finds his at the door. Even though they glint slightly at the sight of him, they’re devoid of that usual love and excitement you got when you saw him, and the fact that he knows he’s not getting it anymore just physically exhausts him further.

“Hi,” You greet quietly, turning off the TV and watching as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “How, um, how was practice?”

“Alright,” Jungkook manages with a shrug. “I was having trouble picking up one of the moves, but Hoseok-hyung stayed after practice to help me with it—that’s why I’m back so late.”

“Oh.” You look as if you’re desperately trying to come up with the right words and that only makes Jungkook’s throat close in frustration, he hates that you have to continuously try to put such a front forward when all he’s ever wanted from you was the honest truth. “I’m sure it’ll be easier for you to do it tomorrow—you are the golden maknae after all. I don’t see why you won’t pick it up more naturally by tomorrow.”

The public nickname on your tongue causes Jungkook to stiffen, his hands tightening into fists on his lap, because it’s been a month and there are absolutely no signs to show you’re starting to overlook his performance facade. “Thanks,” He manages stiffly, straightening to make his way into the kitchen.

You follow him, eyes wide, immediately aware of his change in attitude. You may not necessarily be in tune to his feelings specifically, but you’ve always had a natural reading of emotional intelligence of people in general. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Nope,” He answers, filling a glass with water and downing it in one gulp.

You straighten off the couch and slowly make your way towards him, albeit with some limping but that physical therapy is really helping. “I’m sorry—is this because I called you the golden maknae?”

He rests the glass on the counter and sighs. “I guess I’m not use to hearing you call me that.”

You look down at your feet. “I guess I’m not doing a good job at being your girlfriend, huh?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Don’t say that, you’re trying your best.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologize again. “I want to remember what it was like to be with you—but I get nervous and being put in this situation so suddenly with you just… I guess it makes me uncomfortable. I’m not very good at opening myself up to people.”

“I know,” He manages gruffly. When the pair of you first met, it had taken awhile to get you to return his smiles genuinely, for him to let you know that he was interested in you. “But…” He looks up and you meet his gaze, a shyer touch to the corner of your eyes. “Take your time. Just try to focus on getting through physical therapy right now.”

Your lips curl up into the softest of smiles, and Jungkook melts a little. It feels like forever since he’s got to have an actual conversation with you, and even longer than forever since he’s gotten you to smile at him without looking away a second later.

“Also,” He tries again, looking down and running the glass across the counter. “I wanted to ask you something. A favor.”

You still slightly. “Uh, sure, what is it?”

“Well, we’re starting the first leg of this small tour around Korea in a few days,” Jungkook starts, scratching the back of his neck, almost unable to believe he’s actually nervous about asking you something like this. Normally, he could simply state that the boys were going on tour and you always seemed to know how to respond. “I… I don’t want to ask you to go to all the dates, but would it be too much if I asked you to at least see the opening day?”

You wring your hands together. “You want me to go to your concert? Like, as in, be in the audience?”

“I have a backstage pass for you,” Jungkook answers. “It’s just… I know that we’ve both been pretty stressed about everything that has happened within the past month so this might be a good distraction for us.”

You look uncertain as you study Jungkook across the counter, eyes holding just as much hesitancy as they once had when he first asked you to accompany him to a concert. It had been different that time though, because the pair of you had been public with your relationship for a few weeks so you were already familiar with what it would like under the spotlight.

But now you don’t remember what it had been like to be underneath the spotlight, and your nervousness is brimming all across the surface. Jungkook almost wants to retract the words, reassure you that you didn’t have to do anything you weren’t comfortable with, but it feels like he needs this desperately. The past month and a half have been hard, probably harder than anything else he’s ever had to go through before, especially considering the emotional drainage of it all. However, if you agreed to go the concert to see him, watch him, support him with your physical presence, maybe it could be enough for Jungkook to feel as if things could have the potential to be okay—in whatever shape or form being ‘okay’ could truly mean.

“Bangtan, you’re on in 5 minutes.”

You start slightly when a hand comes to wrap around your wrist, Jungkook gazing down at you. “Ready to go?” He inquires, his microphone all adjusted across his face as he gives you an inquiring look.

Your eyes widen. “Uh, go where?” You look around the dressing room. “I thought I was staying here.”

“Y/N, c’mon, I know the perfect spot for you to be,” Jungkook exclaims, practically hurling you out of your seat as you follow the boys down the long hallway towards backstage where all the sound equipment, lighting, extra dancers, set volunteers were resting. All eyes rest upon the boys as they fill the area. You tense slightly when people stare you, study you, leaving you feel exposed and wishing much more that you had been a little more firm about staying in the dressing room.

“J-Jungkook,” You manage. “I don’t know if this is a good idea…”

“Here—you’ll be right on the edge,” Jungkook says, gently stopping you right on the edge where the backstage met the stage just as the light start to dim, signalling at the boys were about to start their concert. “You’ll be alright?”

“Uh.” You swallow thickly. “Yeah, g-good luck Jungkook.”

He emits a brilliant smile, looking positively ecstatic that you agreed to accompany him to the concert that it forces your own slightly more stiff smile to surface across your lips. And then he’s gone, running towards the center stage before music starts positively blaring through the venue. From where you stand, you can hear the music loud and clear, the fans screaming as you crane your neck slightly to take in the sea of lights, stretched out in what looks to be miles and miles and miles. The boys and their different drifts through the air, piercing the loud music and the screaming. It’s strange to see Jungkook and others out on the stage, the sight so overwhelming that you can feel it in your bones, in your stomach. How could this have been your life for nearly seven months when it feels like the screams of the fans, the sight of Jungkook living his dream and his passion and his career right before your eyes, the side glares you get from the backstage set volunteers is enough to make you want crawl on the floor, suppress into a ball and never get up.

For Jungkook, it’s a different story entirely. Performing is his life—he use to always joke around that he loved performing almost just as much as he loved you, in spite of the fact that those things were two parts of his life on completely opposite sides of the spectrum. He feels as if he thrives off the screams of the fans, feels that rush when they sing song lyrics back to him. He’s always felt so unexplainable lucky to be in this position, to do what he loves with people that he loves, getting the kind of support he couldn’t even have dreams of.

He’s always wanted to give back all the love and support he is constantly given throughout his life, which is why he makes sure to put his all into his performances and dance routines, or even when he’s just dashing around the stage, touching the hands of the fans who stretch out desperately to grab at him. It’s always more than enough that for those few small hours he gets to perform, he can forget his problems or write them away long enough so he’ll return to them with an even better solution.

He thinks that might be the case with his relationship with you, in which he could perform and return back to you with more confidence about rebuilding that connection, give you a reason to forget his performer facade and hopefully resurface what exactly it was that made you fall in love with him—until the group is singing ‘Young Forever’ and he dares himself to throw a wide smile over at you.

But he’s not greeted with the sight of you cheering to his performance, jumping and clapping, throwing him a thumbs up and blowing kisses at him—he’s greeted with a sight so drastically opposite that he stills entirely from where he stands.

You’re still standing off the edge of the stage where he last left you, but you’re not even looking at him. It looks like you’re trying to make yourself look as small as possible, pressing yourself into the side of the stage as your arms come up to wrap around yourself. He sees some girls behind you throwing unhearable side comments, smirks, snorts, and laughter at you. He knows that you must have heard some of those comments because you’re blinking quickly, as if trying to rid yourself of the tears before they can spill past your eyes.

Jungkook stops singing, still facing you as the realization drowns him like a bucket of ice water.

Ever since the pair of you started dating, Jungkook swore to himself that he would never do anything, say anything, or force you to do anything that you weren’t comfortable with. That’s why it took so long for the pair of you to finally go public with your relationship, that’s why the pair of you took everything slow because you were scared, so nervous about what dating an idol would consist of. You were always strong though, always so willing to do things with the brightest of smiles upon your face and not an ounce of complaints slipping past your lips—and Jungkook loved you dearly for that.

But things are different now. To you, being with him is like starting from square one all over again. It had taken months to build that trust and friendship, something that Jungkook has been trying to force in just a few weeks. In trying so desperately to make him feel better about potential of your relationship, going so far as to bring you out into the open at one of his concerts, he has completely disregarded your own personal feelings.

You were uncomfortable now, even more than he’s ever seen you before—all because of him.

Jungkook throws his hand over his mouth, the other hand with his microphone dropping to the side as he feels his throat close up with self-loathing and self-hatred. For the past month, it feels as if all Jungkook has ever done to himself is complain about everything.

Like why you would never text him first or call him first about your physical well being.

Or why you refused to sleep in the same bed as him because he wanted to feel your warmth against his cheek.

Or how it wasn’t fair you wouldn’t tell him how you were feeling about certain things because he wanted to be more open with you.

Or how you wouldn’t try to push the topic of your relationship although he wanted to know his standing in your life.

Or even now, when he essentially forced you to go to this concert because he couldn’t handle the thought of you not being there to support him.

All he’s done is complain and complain, extending this bitterness of not getting what he wanted, of being secretly impatient this whole time when he knew you were trying your best to be more open with him. Never once did he think to consider what this all must be like for you—to wake up one morning and be told you were dating a member of one of the top Kpop groups in Korea, to realize that the past year of your life had slipped away from your mind like grains of sand on the beach. To be forced into the company of that member, knowing he was completely and utterly in love with you and yet not knowing why, not understanding why.

And now to be forced to stand here, hidden from the crowds of people, yet be completely exposed to all the screaming and the music and the true ugliness of some people—he swore he would protect you from all of that, yet why was he here, standing opposite of you having just forced you to witness all of those things?

What kind of person was Jungkook to do this to you—the only one in his life he would sacrifice everything for?

The tears swell up in his eyes are gathering rain clouds, storming past his vision before he can control them, his throat closing up as he shuts his eyes tight, pressing his hand harder against his mouth to muffle his sobs. His head feels as if it’s spinning like a top as he loses a proper sense of his bearings—enough to send him onto his knees, only one thought swimming above all the rest.

How could he do this to you?

Seokjin is by his side at once, the singing has stopped but the music continues, blasting through the walls and into the air but a concert has never been more quiet to Jungkook in his entire life. But in this particular moment, he allows himself to be selfish one more time as one of his palms press against the stage, the other still trying to help silence his cries.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?” Seokjin inquires, desperately looking over his shoulder as Namjoon approaches the pair of them.

All it takes is one flickering glance between Jungkook and you—still standing off the edge, looking slightly more alert to Jungkook’s breakdown, but refusing to leave your position in the corner. “Let’s get him to the dressing room,” He says to Seokjin, turning back to the other boys and instructing them to keep the crowd distracted until they could figure out what had happened to the maknae.

You follow without having to be asked twice, trailing next to Namjoon as Seokjin drapes Jungkook’s arm over his shoulder. “What happened to him?” Namjoon inquires.

You shake your head. “He looked at me and then he… had this look on his face.” You run a hand through your hair. “This… that was my fault, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t be so quick to blame yourself,” Namjoon reassures, squeezing your shoulder before a door is pushed open to reveal an empty dressing room. Seokjin helps Jungkook take a seat on the couch, the latter having turned a sickly pale color and sweat you assume that didn’t come from the performance beading down his temple. “I’m gonna get him some water,” Namjoon announces, turning around and disappearing, explaining the situation to the manager.

Seokjin straightens and looks at you. “Ah, I think I need to go back on stage with the rest of the guys. Do you think you’ll be okay here?”

You nod quickly, shuffling your feet awkwardly on the floor. If trying to get over that awkwardness with Jungkook had been an issue, trying to face the rest of Bangtan without feeling as if you could spontaneously combust into flames had been a talk in it of itself. “I-I’m okay. Thank you Seokjin-oppa.”

You watch as the older boy leaves, trying for a smile when he pats you on the head in a consoling gesture.

You turn back to Jungkook, watching as he tries to control his breathing. The crying has stopped, but the sight is still clearly imprinted in your mind, so much so that it makes every part of your body physical ache.

“Jungkook?” You try softly, taking a step forward and not stopping until you’re standing right next to him. “Jungkook, I-I’m sorry—!”

Without a warning, Jungkook’s arms darted out to wrap themselves around your frame, pressing his nose into your stomach. Your arms are angled so they wouldn’t get tangled in his own, but they hover at awkward lengths and you aren’t entirely sure where to put them. Pressing your lips together, you swallow, and settle one in his hair while the other comes up to his wrist. You hate that you can’t remember Jungkook’s preference so you could comfort him the way he deserved to be comforted, but he exhales at the sensation of your hands against his skin.

“I’m sorry—!” You try again.

Jungkook cuts you off. “Y/N,” He whispers, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, for everything that I’ve done to you ever since the accident. I’ve just… I was trying so hard to get you to remember me that sometimes I might have come off too strong or forced you to do something you didn’t want to do. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve been so selfish this past month, I never stopped to consider how hard this must be for you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—!”

“Jungkook,” You whisper back, moving your fingers through his hair, finding vague fascination in the way that it’s just as soft as you once pictured it to be. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself any credit. You’ve been… very understanding these past few weeks. I suppose I should apologize for not trying to open myself up earlier…”

“Don’t say that,” He grumbles. “Don’t apologize.” He gazes up at you and you still at how much adoration is in his eyes. You wonder if he’s always looked at you like this, or if he can’t hold himself back right now. You desperately wish for pieces of your memory back—if anything, just to understand why Jeon Jungkook would look at you in this manner.

Suddenly, he smiles—like, actually smiles.

You blink. “What?” You whisper.

“Hm, nothing, I think this is the longest eye contact we’ve made without you looking away.”

You feel the heat rush up your neck. “Sorry…”

“Stop apologizing,” He chides lightly, pressing his nose back into your stomach and breathing. “Don’t worry—I’ll make you remember why you fell in love with me.”

You look down. “Did you say something?”

He shakes his head, tightening his hold around you. “Just, can we stay like this? Please?”

You comb fingers through his hair. “Sure, Jungkook.”

Official statement from BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT,

Hello all,

It has come to our attention that many fans and reports alike have been making inquires about the recent BTS concert in Seoul, more specifically the action of Jeon Jungkook that prompted an emergency rush off stage and his inability to perform for the rest of the show.

One month ago, Jeon Jungkook’s girlfriend, Y/N, was involved in a serious car accident that equated in a broken leg and a wounded arm. Not only that, she also lost a year’s worth of memories, which involved her relationship with Jeon Jungkook. The pair of them have been working hard to rebuild the relationship, and although we won’t disclose too much for privacy reasons, the boys and Jungkook have allowed us to reveal that there have been many struggles in recovering her memories. Y/N has been going to physical therapy to recover from her broken leg and continues to live with Jungkook.

Jungkook will be participating in the remaining concerts around Korea as well as the fan meetings, but asks that questions about Y/N’s condition remain private. Whether or not she will be joining him during the rest of the shows will not be answered.

We apologize to those who went to the first leg of the tour, but look forward to the upcoming events the boys will have in their future comeback.

Thank you, From Big Hit Entertainment

“J-Jungkook-oppa?”

Jungkook starts in his chair, looking up and meeting the gaze of a shy fan, gazing over at him, wide-eyes, too much nativity hidden underneath, but she smiles and he smiles back because all of this is supposed to serve as a distraction, keep his mind away from the real problems gradually crawling up. The fan meetings and concerts have been nice, much more than the first leg of the tour after he had that breakdown on stage. Thankfully, nobody mentions it and no one seems too keen on trying to make him relive the memory.

The air between the two of you, thankfully, seems to have decreased in tension, since the pair of you can actually look at each other for longer than ten minutes and have conversations that elicit smiles and laughter. It’s strange, to know so much about you yet still be plagued with that honeymoon stage most couples facted in the beginning of their relationships. Jungkook has a feeling it’s just because it’s like getting to learn about you all over again, and the sensation is a lot more satisfying than he originally pictured it to be.

He takes the album she gently slides over to him, doodling his name across the sleek surface of the photo.

“Jungkook-oppa?” She asks again, catching his attention as he acknowledges her with the flickering up of his gaze. “I-I know you didn’t want any questions about Y/N but—how is she doing? She is doing better?”

Jungkook’s pen stills slightly. “Yes,” He says, giving her an easy smile and it almost surprises him how natural the gesture feels, as if he isn’t weighed down by your distance anymore. “She’s doing better—her memory isn’t back though.”

The girl nods. “Uh, well.” There is a flush against her own pale skin. “I uh, I made something for her…”

She trails off and starts digging for something in her backpack, producing a scrapbook about the size of a letter, but the book is bursting, so many photos taped inside the pages that the binds look like they might snap off. Jungkook’s eyes widen as she rests the scrapbook on the table.

“There are pictures in here… statements you said about her, paparazzi photos, everything I could find. I hope that it’ll help her. With her memories.” She flushes even deeper when Jungkook finds that he is so warmed by the gesture he can’t even utter a word yet. “I’ve always been fond of the relationship the two of you shared—and I’m sorry you had to shoulder that pain alone for a month. I hope that—!”

Her voice stops when Jungkook reaches across the table very quickly to encase her hand in his own larger ones. He presses his lips together, nodding repeatedly as he is so overcome with emotion that tears sparkle across his eyes. “Thank you,” He says, biting his lip and trying to convey thousands of words he cannot bear to speak into a simple glance.

From the way the girl smiles, she can see it clearer than daylight.

It’ll be one more week before Jungkook returns back home, returns back to the apartment to find you munching on a sandwich, which had been your lunch.

You straighten in your seat at the sight of Jungkook. “J-Jungkook!” You stammer. “You’re back early.”

“Surprise?” He asks, guilty smile as he kicks the door shut, rolling his suitcase into his room and returning back to the kitchen with his backpack in toll.

“How were the tours?” You inquire, gazing up at him as he takes a seat across from you.

“They were good,” He answers, nodding slowly, hands lingering over his backpack, suddenly looking apprehensive about something. “I… uh, I have a surprise for you.”

You frown, tilting your head to the side. “What is it?”

He swallows, opening his backpack and digging through before producing a scrapbook. “There was a fan who made this for you. She hopes that it’ll help jog your memory. Or at least… help you understand us. I suppose.” He bites his lip, body temperature heating as he realizes that speech was a lot easier to make in his mind.

“Wow, that’s really sweet of her,” You comment, smiling softly at the gesture before reaching across and flipping open the scrapbook. Instead, there’s a timeline, photos, vague statements of your relationship written across in baby blue paper against floral. There are articles, posts of people talking about the healthiness of your relationship—statements that Jungkook has made regarding all the ways you changed his life, although they are small and short because you know the boy to be more private about his personal life. But there are pictures, probably fantaken, but the candidness of it all makes you still. The camera catches rare smiles, laughter shared between the two of you. Jungkook has his arm wrapped around you in some, the other way around in different photos. There are ones where the pair of you are gazing at each other as if the only people you could see were each other. There are stills from video clips in which the pair of you would be joking about something, laughing, staring as if they were the only other person in the room.

It should almost scare you how much love floats between these two people in the photographs, how it wasn’t easy to deny how much they meant to each other simply from the looks and the way he smiled at you. You definitely can’t remember these photographs or lingering looks, but it warms you with something, a sensation brimming underneath the surface like gold at the bottom of a murky pool. Something you desperately long to chase after.

You close the book, traces of a smile still across your lips although it’s small. It’s a work in progress. “Jungkook,” You whisper.

He looks up at once. “Yes?” He inquires.

You take in a breath. “I want to try working at our relationship again.”

He stills slightly, eyes widening. “What?”

You shift in your seat, taking note that Jungkook is watching you very carefully. “I want to try working at our relationship again,” You repeat. You look down at the scrapbook. “I can’t… remember tangible things about you—and I don’t know if I ever will. I don’t remember what you sound like when you wake up in the morning or how you look when you make breakfast in the kitchen on Sunday morning. I don’t remember how the sunlight streams through the window to cast shadows around your face, and I don’t remember the way you look when you get to watch your favorite movie. I don’t remember walking down the streets with you, or what it was like to hold your hand or eat your favorite food. But… I know that I feel something for you, and that I care for you and admire you beyond anyone else I’ve cared for in my life. When we first met after I woke up, I was nervous about you and about us, because I really did only remember you as someone I could only see in my computer screen. I didn’t know and I didn’t understand why you could possibly want to be with me—because you’ve always been you, and I’ve always been me. But now, I know that I’m tired, and I know that you’re tired, and I’m done with trying to run away. How could I want to run away from something like this and something that makes me feel this way?” Even though you face feels as if it’s been set aflame, you force yourself look at Jungkook, only to find that he’s had his gaze fixated on you the entire time. As it has been and as it always should be. “I want to make new memories with you—if you’ll let me.”

Jungkook straightens up and do you do the same, letting him circle the table before jerking you towards his body in the tightest hug you think you’ve ever received in your life. His arms are around your shoulders, chin resting atop your head while your arms are weaved around his waist. “Of course,” He whispers, voice so full of emotions you think he might cry again. And maybe he will, but maybe you’ll start crying too. “Of course we can make new memories.”

He knows you, and maybe you know him better than you ever thought than you did, because he takes your hand and you let him guide you out of the apartment towards the outside to see where the future will take you.

#bangtan bookclub #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #bts scenario #bts x reader #bts fluff #traci writes #repost: workofteaguk

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cupofteaguk · 6 years ago

Text

if i could tell her

summary: Jung Hoseok is just trying to pass his philosophy class, yet ends up with so much more.

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader

genre: college au, fake dating au | fluff/angst

warnings: slow burn, hoseok is a fratboy in this fic, this fic is a mash of a tutoring with fake dating what can i say, and yes the title comes from the dear evan hanson musical

word count: 16k

It’s not abnormal to wake up in a space that is not his own, considering his life and what he did just to feel any sort of rush of pleasure, awakening in an apartment and atop a bed with a touch too many scents that only makes the hangover pierce even deeper at his skull. He arises, a groan barely leaving his lips as he sits up, rubbing at his head and looking down to see that he wears nothing under the sheets. Again, all part of the typical one-night-stand escapades he participated in.

However, what is not typical is the way the bed feels cold, empty without the presence of the other figure sleeping opposite of him—someone he almost would not have missed had he had woken up in his own room, someone he might have forgotten had it not been for the vague memory of a girl underneath him, a name he might have been gritting between his teeth in the haze of his lust. Kathy, was it? Or Kat? No, the longer Jung Hoseok sits there, the more confident he grows in the fact that the name certainly had been Karly.

The physical appearance of the girl remains blank on him, no matter how desperately he tries to rack his consciousness, tries to remember the scene of the party and what she did to catch his attention. There must have been something, something hidden within the corners of his mind, perhaps a glance or a smile or a dance move or a joke. Either way, the answer refuses to present itself to Hoseok at the present moment, which is fine because aforementioned Karly is absent to spare him from that awkward situation.

Still, he remains motionless for a few more seconds, counting down to see if the girl—Karly—is perhaps just in the bathroom or making breakfast, doing anything within the apartment that could make an escape on Hoseok’s part awkward. Yet he doesn’t hear anything, fails to make out those telltale signs that leaving would be a bad move. So he straightens up, feet falling upon the carpet with a gentle sigh, and manages to find his clothing littered across the room. Hoseok makes quick work on dressing himself, pulling on his shirt, tugging on his jeans, slowly making his way to the bedroom door and down the hallway. The apartment is quiet, and he is momentarily stunned that this Karly girl would just leave him alone in her home, that she would be so trusting of someone she did not know personally.

That is, until he walks into the kitchen and finds that he is most certainly not alone in the apartment, that there is a certain someone sitting at the kitchen counter—a certain beautiful someone.

“Woah,” Hoseok greets, taking in the sight of you: philosophy textbook propped open and overhard eggs hovering over your lips, hair in a bun with the stray curls cascading down your face, eyes wide and fixated on his frame. If he hadn’t been enduring the aftermaths of a particularly bad hangover, then he’d realize that the gaze you were giving him is one of vague recognition and not a morning after ‘let’s share breakfast and have sex after this’ type of ordeal. He doesn’t really realize anything beyond the fact that you are extremely pretty and while he certainly doesn't remember the act of sleeping with you specifically, he wishes he had. “Are you Karly?”

You actually laugh at that, a beautiful sound that immediately leaves him to believe that he most definitely would have remembered every single second, every single detail, of fucking you. “Karly is my roommate,” You say, shutting the philosophy textbook in front of you. “I’m Y/N.”

The name strikes a bell in his mind, but he lacks the mental capability to place it. He tries for his own laugh, immediately wincing when the noise makes him feel like he's just been struck across the back of the head with a shovel.

You straighten slightly, detecting his discomfort at once as you slide yourself off the bar stool you've been situated at, heading for the overhead cabinets to make a grab for a glass cup. You fill it with water, grabbing a bottle of pills and dumping two out into the palm of your hand before resting both on the opposite end of the counter. “Here, those should help,” You say, gesturing to the items before residing yourself back on the stool.

He manages another laugh, one much smaller and is really more of just a breath of air escaping his lips. “You seem very familiar with all of this,” He notes quietly, approaching the counter and grabbing the pills.

He lowers the glass of water, only to find that you are staring intently at him. “You think you’re the first guy to sleep with Karly?”

He doesn’t know how to answer the question, or if he’s meant to answer it at all. You give him one last lingering look before opening your philosophy textbook once more, clearly comfortable with the silence that has grown between the two of you once again. Hoseok finds that he doesn't necessarily mind watching you read, finding that you have this little crinkle between your eyebrows to show your level of concentration, how easy it is for you to tune him out, and he can feel the corner of his lips quirking up.

“I was referring to you,” He says at last, voice lightening up slightly as he leans across the counter and for a moment, it feels as if he’s back to being Jung Hoseok—too many parties under his belt, too many girls to keep him grounded, believing he could get anyone and everyone with just the right presentation of words. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, although I’m sure I would have remembered if I had.”

If you’re impressed (or unimpressed) with his attempt to stir some sort of reaction out of you, he doesn't get the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you flip through a few pages of your textbook, barely sparing him a glance, as if Karly’s one-night-stands hitting on you was something you were only entirely too use to. Finally, you look up at him. “If you forgot that I sit next to you in philosophy, Hoseok, I doubt you’d be able to remember me under any other context.”

The smile on your face shows just how little remorse you hold for him, as if you had been expecting him to lack the ability to place you in his life. The news is certainly a surprise, which is why the best thing he can manage is a very intelligent, very coherent: “What?”

You jut your chin out a little. “Philosophy with Professor Tong? Every Monday and Wednesday?”

He knits his eyebrows together, searching his mind. “Yeah, but no, I think you’re mistaken. I always fall asleep in that class and on the rare occasion that I don’t, the girl who sits next to me aces every exam, highlights all her notes, and has some sort of dumb flower notebook—oh.”

He bites his tongue when you grab something from underneath your philosophy textbook, flashing the flower notebook straight from his memories and immediately making him feel vaguely like a jerk. Mistaking someone for someone else isn't necessarily the best way to start a relationship. “Do you mean this dumb flower notebook?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side, throwing it back down onto the table. “I just like to be organized and pass my classes.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hoseok says, at least having the decency to show a level of guilt at the downward spiral his conversation with you is going. “But, I mean, is it fair to hold me against the fact that I didn’t know we had class together? Like I said, I fall asleep most of the time, and it’s not like I’m trying to get on a name-to-name basis with any of my peers. We’ve probably never even spoken to each other before—!”

“We’ve had class discussions a bunch of times,” You interrupt dryly, gaze having resumed back to your textbook, although he doesn’t remember seeing you look down. “You once told me that the two kinds of evils are alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

You exhale in a laugh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes without contempt, not seeming to mind his inexperience on the subject matter, which only makes his own heart speed up slightly at your surprisingly playful attitude. “I suppose not, from a subjective standpoint.” Then you shift in your seat, making a grab for the cup of water you have rested along the side of the counter. You take a sip, flickering your gaze up to see Hoseok using the silence to take a sip of his own water. “I guess I shouldn’t be holding the whole ‘I don’t know what’s going on in class’ deal, otherwise I’m assuming you’d be freaking out a bit more about our exam coming next in a few days.”

Hoseok chokes on his water, coughing violently as the liquid travels down the wrong pipe and he desperately longs to find his breath again. You watch in silence, watching the way he lightly pats his chest, watching the way he takes deep inhales and exhales to calm his heart to regain control his body.

“You okay there?” You inquire.

Hoseok coughs one last time. “W-We have an exam in a few days?” He asks, raising his head to meet your gaze.

“Yep,” You say, your lips coming together to pop the p at the end of the word. You make work on picking up that dreadful flower notebook and flipping through some pages until you come across what you’re looking for. Turning the notebook at a 180 degree, you slide it across towards Hoseok. “We also have an essay due at midnight on Friday. Altogether, it’s worth about thirty percent of our grade—!”

“Shit,” Hoseok curses under his breath, taking in the long list of different concepts, theories, names, studies, and readings that will be on the upcoming exam—all of which he knows absolutely nothing about. “What’s the essay about?”

“Something about if criminals should be held morally responsible for their actions,” You say with the shrug of your shoulders, as if you’ve already finished the essay and have been finished with the essay for weeks now.

Hoseok is quiet, and must be quiet for a beat too long before you lean forward on the counter, immediately giving the boy a whiff of your scent: kind of floral and sweet and light and he’s floored from the sensation. How could someone smell this good first thing in the morning? Immediately, his mind starts to wander—he wonders if you wore perfume, what kind, and what you included in your laundry detergent. He wonders about your morning routine, if you had a boyfriend, what your major was, why he had never noticed you before, how you managed to stay alert in all your classes. He wonders if you work, if you did other things to occupy your time and he wants it all, he wants to be a part of your life more if it means getting to see you eat egg in the morning or getting to watch you tie your hair up in this bun, if it means getting a whiff of your scent over coffee.

“Hoseok, are you alright?”

He blinks, barely able to catch you staring at him, a flicker of curiosity in your eyes, before he’s turning away and forcing himself to study the Philosophy terms that might as well be Chinese characters for all the sense they were making to him. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I guess I got caught up in all this work and just started blanking out…”

You lean back in your chair, taking back the scent and he thinks he can officially put a label on the flower you’ve taken after. Definitely lavender.

“It is a lot,” You agree. He catches you furrowing your eyebrows out of the corner of his eyes and he wonders what idea you are brewing up in that mind of yours. “If you want, I could give you some pointers for the essay and help you study for the exam. It’ll be difficult because there’s only a few days until the test, but we can try our best.”

“Would you really?” He inquires incredulously, snapping his head up to meet your gaze. You aren’t entirely looking at him, your eyes are shifted elsewhere and he wonders how often you actually go out of your way to do this—to offer your help to someone like him who is in desperate need of it. That thought fills his heart with the sensation of… something. For now, he just decides to think of it as gratefulness. “Y-Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks a lot.”

The pair of you lock eyes across the counter and he watches the way you run your tongue over your lower lip for a moment before your teeth come out to gnaw at the soft flesh. Your gaze is broken by a distraction that seems to catch your attention because you’re flickering your gaze down to your phone.

It doesn’t matter if whatever on your phone holds any importance to you; it’s enough to break Hoseok out of his reserve, to let reality come crashing down. What was he doing? Yeah, he knows that he’s just taken up the offer on homework help from someone who clearly knows what’s going on, but what happens after that? Hoseok is not blind to all the social aspects of groups and circles that only continue to remain loosely true in college—there’s a reason why the pair of you have never interacted or have never crossed paths. It’s because both of you ran in two completely different social circles and just had interests that didn’t normally correlate with one another. The only reason the pair of you have crossed paths in the first place is because you just so happened to have a roommate that didn’t think twice about pushing her way into Hoseok’s life.

Yoongi would probably reprimand him for overthinking the situation. It’s not like there was anything that was going to happen with you and Hoseok—you’re just a peer who is going to help him get through the next few days of Philosophy. The fact that you’re cute and attractive and give off a positive first impression, one that leads him to think that there’s more substance to you than most girls he meets who are just looking for a quick fuck, is something that he’ll have to work around. But he needs to pass this class, if only to keep him on track for graduation. After all, keeping his feelings in check shouldn’t be too hard right?

Right?

The following day is Sunday, officially five days before Doomsday aka a Philosophy exam and an essay that the boy has absolutely no confidence over. Still, he remembers what he has to do and he values the importance of his assignment as well as recognizes the sacrifices you’re making to help him out. So he shows up at your apartment—partially retracing his steps from memory and partially following the directions you’ve given him on a slip of paper.

Pulling out aforementioned piece of paper, he sees the address as well as your phone number scribbled down underneath. The paper itself is slightly crumpled from Hoseok having to pry the slip out of his roommate’s grabby hands just to make sure that Jimin didn’t try to look you up on Facebook after the former boy let it slip that he thought you were ‘slightly more than attractive’.

He doesn’t put too much thought into why he had been so insistent on making sure that Jimin couldn’t find a way to open any lines of communication with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to distract you, make you uncomfortable, expose you into his world—or maybe he just wants to keep you to himself, keep you his little secret. He thinks he knows the answer, but he refuses to admit it.

Instead, he finds your apartment, checking the number a few times just to make sure, before knocking on the door. It takes a second, and for a moment he worries that he had gotten the time wrong in his haste to see you and get started on the tutoring—or, really, just to see you in general, probably without even realizing it. Luckily, the door swings open to reveal a familiar figure that most definitely is not you but—!

“O-Oh hey,” Hoseok greets at the girl on the other side, not you but your roommate who he knows he fucked the other night but cannot seem to remember her name for the sudden life of him.

The girl smirks, and he runs his mind through a mental list of potential names. Kathy? Fuck, no, that wasn’t it. Katherine? No, that sounds even worse. “Jung Hoseok,” She greets, leaning against the doorframe. There’s something like actual surprise in her eyes and he gets the feeling that maybe you left your roommate out of the loop regarding his return to the apartment. “What brings you back here? I thought you didn’t take second rounds?”

Hoseok, who had not been expecting to get an invite to sex today, can feel himself flushing deeply at the offer. The girl at the door is right, he rarely ever comes by for repeats. He’s about to open his mouth to reject the offer, before another voice cuts in, one that he finds himself visibly relaxing to despite the relationship it holds in his life.

“Karly!” You exclaim, appearing by your roommate’s side at once. He breaths in a little because yes of course, that’s her name. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Y/N,” Karly returns, breaking eye contact to stare over at you. “I don’t know if you guys have ever met before, but this is Jung Hoseok—!”

“I know,” You interject, flickering your gaze over to him only to find that he is still staring at you. “I invited him over—I’m helping him with Philosophy.”

It doesn’t take long for the passes of embarrassment to start flickering across Karly’s face at how she had assumed Hoseok’s visit was for something under completely different circumstances. It looks like she wants to protest, whisper accusations to you, do anything to take the target of tension off her back, but she merely settles with flickering her gaze between you and Hoseok. A muffled “huh” escapes her lips, but she steps away from the doorframe and allows the boy to step through.

You grumble something about grabbing your laptop from your room before turning down the hall and leaving Hoseok with Karly. For a moment, neither of them say anything, just basking in the awkward silence and knowledge that they definitely fucked yet not being able to remember the experience. Not that Hoseok actually wants to—especially now that you’re in his life, even if temporarily.

Even with the tension, even though he is the last person to know anything about Karly, it’s easy to see that she’s weighing something in her mind, preparing herself to say whatever it is that’s occupying her thoughts. Considering what she had said the last time she let her mouth run, Hoseok finds that he almost panics at the thought of having to answer a question, statement, or observation from her.

Once more, he finds himself comforted by the sight of you appearing from the hallway, the laptop tucked underneath your arm and the words absentmindedly slipping between your lips. “So, Hoseok, I think we should start with you telling me what you know so we can start to work around that…” You flicker your gaze up to find Karly still in the same room. You raise an eyebrow. “Karly, don’t you have a group project meet up today?”

The question starts Karly out of her trance as she fishes out her phone, curses, and dashes into her room. There is a moment in which neither you nor Hoseok breath a word to each other, that silence broken when Karly comes rushing back out. She yells something out that sounds vaguely like: “See you tonight” before it is followed by a slam of the door.

You give him a smile. “I hope she didn’t say anything to you.”

He shrugs, saying the first thing on his mind, one that so happens to be: “I don’t think there’s anything worse than knowing that you fucked someone, yet not remembering what that had been like.”

In spite of the bluntness of the statement, you can’t help but laugh. Or, maybe, his candor is what stirs up that breathy exhale from between your lips in the first place. “That does sound pretty awkward already.”

“Oh, what, like you’ve never done that before?” He inquires, the question meant to be light-hearted and a joke; but the suddenly tight smile you deliver makes him think he had to go and step out of the line. Again.

“Not really,” You say, shrugging your shoulders after a moment. The gesture looks like an afterthought. You turn slightly so that your back is facing him, indicating that follow up questions would not be allowed on the subject, even if for teasing that you most likely would not think is funny.

Why couldn’t he seem to get it right with you?

“So, like I was saying before, since our exam is going to cover chapters one to five, why don’t you tell me what content you are familiar with so we can at least try to build a foundation around that.”

Hoseok falls short at that, nervous both under your observing gaze and his own lack of knowledge in the field. Suddenly, the fact that he doesn’t know anything and that he had spent the past few months either skipping class or just not attending it only becomes more and more clear to him the longer he sits there.

You only continue to stare at him, watching him, waiting for any sort of response from him in regards in your question. He wonders what you’re thinking—if you think he’s stupid or irresponsible or wasteful of money and time. Yet, there’s nothing in your eyes that hold distaste or dissatisfaction, even when you raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s okay if you aren’t familiar with anything, you know.”

“No, it’s just,” Hoseok starts, although he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. You’re trying to spare him the embarrassment of the truth, the truth that he doesn’t remember anything from class, but his desire to prove you wrong is too overwhelming. To keep himself busy, he flips open the notebook he’s got reserved for this class, immediately landing upon a page full of words and lines and scribbles that dance back and forth across the surface. At first, he feels something akin to curiosity and confusion because he does not remember taking an ounce of relevant notes throughout the course but the longer he stares at it and takes in the words, the longer it takes for the realization of what the words in between these edges mean and he’s about to slam the notebook shut and write himself away forever but—! “Uh…” Hoseok starts, but you beat him to it.

“What’s this?” You inquire, already long since having leaned over to study whatever is written across his notebook. Hoseok doesn’t pull away or snap or do anything, really, he just sits there and lets your gaze flint across the pages and lets the realization dawn upon you that the notes he’s taken are not philosophy or remotely academic based at all but are more poetic and lyrical and string together a little too perfectly for these to be mere afterthoughts or something he only did when he was bored. So you open your mouth, your curiosity blocking away the social norm that mentions how maybe asking about something pressed between the spaces of a notebook were a touch too personal to bring up. Yet you do it anyways: “Are these poems?”

He winces. “Close, uh, they’re song lyrics.”

You flicker your gaze up and he jumps. When did you get so close? “You’re a lyricist?”

“Not a professional one,” He brushes off. “Hopefully one day I can be though.”

You hum thoughtfully, eyes continuing to roam across the page he has opened on the table. For a moment, you don’t pry or flip through the pages or even touch the notebook. You don’t even look like you’re trying to soak in every word, which he almost finds odd. Any other person in Hoseok’s life would have done anything to catch more of his personal life, especially since he kept a majority of his feelings and his past under wraps. But even after realizing what lay underneath the cover of his notebook, he doesn’t feel that painful desperation to hide the words and emotions from you.

He wonders if it’s because of the trusting, open, honest, naive look that shines like the daylight in your eyes, the fact that you’ve already caught him at his worse (aka his walk of shame and discovering his shitty work ethic) and he feels as if there’s not as much to lose around you.

“Well, you are very talented,” You point out quietly, leaning back into your chair and delivering him with the kind of smile that doesn’t have him doubting the truth of your statement.

Still, his lips twist up into a faint, rare, smile. “Really?”

You seem to understand the gravity of his expression, must know that the boy who lives in his laughter and smirks and lips pressing together didn’t just hand out smiles for free, because the corner of your own mouth curls up right back at him. “Yeah.” Neither of you say anything, too caught up in this moment, in basking under the fact that your smile reminds him of starlight and all good things, and he wonders why he wanted to write you off and out of his life after that first class because he already knew that you were different than him. Sometimes, different could be good. Better, even.

You are the first to clear your throat, resuming your attention back to your laptop and opening it. “R-Right,” You start. “So, philosophy.” You train your gaze on the screen intensely enough that Hoseok can feel himself shifting in his own seat. “I guess, even just to stay safe, we should start at the beginning.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok manages, looking down to study his fingers, long and lean, and bony around the knuckles but also so lonely on its own. “That’ll probably be best.”

“Alright,” You continue with the nod of your head, turning your laptop and he arches an eyebrow to find that you had started constructing a powerpoint for him. “Chapter one is about questions concerning God…”

It’s no secret that Hoseok hates philosophy and education in general with the fiery passion of a thousand suns—especially considering that his interests hardly corresponded with a field of general eds or speciality classes that the university offered. He didn’t need another class telling him how to download producing softwares that he’s been using since high school. He needs an internship, but he also needs the grades and the time management skills and the sports and his current job just to try and stay afloat before thinking about changing things up.

Given that he targets the academics as one of the many seeds of stress in his life, it’s no surprise that he barely finds the willpower to enjoy lectures and studying and tests, although this is a pretty common factor that resides with him and a majority of his friends. It’s hard for him to think that anyone could find the subjects taught at school fun.

But, then again, he really hadn’t met anyone like you—someone who could be so passionate about something yet not be annoying about it. He doesn’t know what it is, he doesn’t know if it’s his own desperation to have a grasp on philosophy or the fact that you’re actually kind of cute when you’re going on and on about freedom and determinism that could potentially be clouding his judgment. He doesn’t know what it is, yet it hardly matters because he’s actually enjoying learning about the different concepts and theorists and finds that he’s learning more in just three days than the three months that he’s been enrolled in the class.

Maybe it’s because the one-on-one interaction actually forces him to pay attention, or maybe it’s because you’re actually an attentive tutor who possesses the ability to explains things with such ease that his brain just naturally makes the connections.

Or, maybe, above all, it’s the fact that getting to spend time in your apartment, even if for schooling purposes, means getting to know you in all its minor details that you let slip or things that he just so happens to take note of. Like how excited you get when he is able to apply certain concepts perfectly to the topic being discussed, or how you use both your hands to cover your mouth when you yawn, or how you twirl your pencil between your fingers whenever you’re distracting or lost in your thoughts.

He finds that you’re also an extremely caring and compassionate individual, seen especially in the way you never fail to check up on him through various text messages or even when he’s sitting right next to you in your apartment.

You’re good at making him feel good about himself, about allowing him to feel positively about his academic accomplishments no matter how big or small they may be, which is why the pair of you are able to go through the five chapters as quickly as the pair of you do. Even with his other classes, homeworks assignments, work obligations—much like you—he finds that he looks forward to a new day and a new lesson from you. The confidence you instill in him, that he is able to instill in himself, provides as a turning point that guides him to your front door Thursday morning, that guides him to say, “I’m ready for that essay” as soon as you open the door. It’s the first time he takes such an initiation in the assignments, but it’s worth seeing the grin that overtakes your features.

“What’s so funny?” He inquires, slipping in through the opened door and setting his backpack down on the table so he can discard his jacket.

“Nothing!” You retort, trailing closely behind him. “I’m glad that you’re ready to work on the essay, even though it’s due tomorrow night. And we should do a review of everything you learned just to make sure you have everything down.”

“Wow, you can’t just let me have my moment, can’t you sweetheart?” He teases, deciding at the last second to add in the nickname he’s started addressing you by after the third day after he accidentally let it slip and you had merely laughed to show your indifference to the name. In a way, labeling you with such an intimate nickname to no protest solidifies the strange relationship you and Hoseok developed, one that had been created within the four walls of confinement.

“Not until you pass your exam,” You return back with a teasing curl to your lips. He’s use to seeing this part of you now after managing a crack in your facade, one of the joys of being within your company for long stretches of time not occupied with work or classes or other assignments.

It leaves almost a strange tickling, eating sensation at the pit of his stomach, where he doesn’t know what’s going to happen after the exam passes him by. He had told himself in the beginning that he wasn’t going to let his feelings cloud his judgment, but he hadn’t predicted you would be so easy to get along with, that you would know more about him than some of his friends, that he would have been able to keep that emotional distance from you. You’re way too funny and energetic and alive to stay away from.

You keep up that same level of cheer and support from the side as Hoseok starts to cram down on his essay. You stay up with him to assist him with potential flashcards or last minute questions about theories, offering help in regards to new topics he could indulge into for this five-page essay on moral obligation. You bring your chair closer to his in order to read over his shoulder—the scent of lavender and the additional coconut conditioner from your shower only continuing to soothe him. You fall asleep on his shoulder, and he wonders what he had done to deserve you in such a vulnerable state.

A week shouldn’t often be considered a long period of time, especially when looking at the grand scheme of life and the existence of human existence and Earth in the long run. A week is probably just a blink, a second, a millisecond, definitely not enough to leave a claim or a mark upon anything. However, in spite of that, Hoseok likes to think that within the week (or, technically, five days), he’s been able to spend with you, it’s safe to say that the pair of you could consider each other friends. Or, at the very least, acquaintances. A pair of individuals with inside jokes and an easy air of understanding between the two of you, in which he thinks that he knows you and your body language and the air around you relatively well.

He’s not going to claim himself an expert on you, that he suddenly knows all the secrets you’ve been hiding from him and from the world, but he feels as if he can read you well enough to know that something is definitely up when he knocks on your apartment door to show off the A- he got on his exam—and you can only return his enthusiasm with a tight-lipped smile.

“Is everything okay?” He asks upon seeing that you weren’t going to celebrate your own amazing tutoring abilities with him, lowering his phone and looking at your expression.

You blink, shaking your head slightly, and giving him a grin that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “O-Oh yeah, sorry, everything is fine. But congratulations.” You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “See, I knew you could do it. And how about the essay?”

He opens his phone again to find the grade the professor had gifted him with. “B+!” He remarks brightly, following you into the apartment space as you turn around to make your way into the kitchen. “Not bad, you know, considering that I started the day before.”

“It’s amazing what you can do if you put your mind to it,” You say, smiling cheekily, but it still doesn’t reach your eyes and Hoseok wonders if he should be alerted or bothered by the fact that he is very aware of this. Instead, he lets himself continue to ponder about it as he takes a seat at your kitchen table and watches the way you move about the space, the way you fill some glasses with hot water before digging out his favorite tea bags to rest them in the liquid. There is a new kind of silence, the loudest one he’s ever heard and it eats so deeply at his skin that he pushes himself from the table and rounds the counter to approach you.

Without a warning, he gently grabs you by the shoulders to spin you around. At first your eyes are wide with surprise, but they fill with exasperation when Hoseok flicks your forehead.

“Yah!” You retort, pushing at his chest, eyebrows furrowing together. “What was that for?”

“I can practically hear the internal monologue you’re having from the table,” He points out. “And you’re acting weird—weirder than normal.”

You glare at him, shifting slightly to brush your hair back. “I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just… family stuff.” You shrug your shoulder, showing the first genuine signs of emotions today: confliction. It looks like you want to say what is on your mind, that you have to share the depth of your problems with the first willing participant. It momentarily strikes Hoseok in regards to how long you’ve been keeping this issue to yourself, considering that he’s been seeing you every day for the past few days. Rather than comment on it, he just keeps his gaze level with you, willing you to disclose your concerns with him. It works, because you heave in a sigh. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “You’re looking at someone who use to think the two kinds of evils were alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

You snort at the memory. “Well, you weren’t ever really wrong. Just from a philosophical standpoint.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He replies, taking in a breath before deciding to reach out and gently touch the top of your head. He can feel your hair underneath his touch, just as soft as he had imagined, but it’s enough to get your attention and help let your guard down long enough. “C’mon, I promise I won’t judge. Out loud.”

“It’s just,” You start. “I have this family gathering tomorrow evening and all my relatives have spent the past few years pressuring me about getting into a relationship so I know that if I show up tomorrow without a boyfriend they’ll get that disapproving look like I’ve failed at my only purpose in life—like I don’t have other things I want to focus on right now. So, yeah, I don’t know, I’ve been debating on what to do for weeks now and I don’t even know if I should show up or not.”

Hoseok chews softly on his own lower lip. He’s never received that type of pressure from his family or friends about going out and getting a girlfriend—mainly because his friends were only too aware of what he preferred doing over the emotional stuff (the thought suddenly brings a nauseous sensation to the pit of his stomach)—and his family probably just entrusted in the hope that he would bring back a girlfriend one day. One day. They know his love for music is more secure than any love he could hold for a singular person. At least, right now.

He stares at you for a moment longer.

“You should probably go,” He points out. “I mean, if you don’t show up, your relatives will just assume that you couldn’t get a boyfriend and that’ll just be giving them all the power and no one wants that.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do then.” You grumble, a bit of a whining complexion to the tone of your voice. “It’s not like there’s a line of guys who’ll want to help me, or anyone that I trust enough not to make a fool of both of us in front of my family.”

Hoseok thinks about it, seeing the truth of your statement. He knows that you’re the type of person who keeps mostly to yourself, not because you didn’t enjoy the company of other individuals surrounding you, but because you were more comfortable on your own. It’s something that he’s been able to pick up, even if in just small pieces and small flashes—whether it be noticing how much calmer you are in the silence or your passing obsession with using headphones and music as a way to hide yourself away from the world.

He’s never taken you as the type of person with an overabundance of friends, but rather someone with a few select close individuals whom you entrusted everything to. Although he finds it hard to be in that position himself, given that it seems like his entire life is just surrounded by other people and finds the thought of being alone… well, lonely, he can’t help but think that lifestyle suits you and your shy smiles and the way you often like to curl up on the couch with a notebook after a particularly long day—!

The offer slips out before he can stop it: “I’ll help you out.”

You blink, staring up at him, eyebrow raised, clearly not understanding the angle that he’s coming from. “What?”

“I could pretend to be your boyfriend for that family event,” He explains, shrugging one of his shoulders and realizing that he cannot bear to look you in the eye. Instead, he fixates his gaze on the electrical outlet directly behind you and hopes that his face is not as red as it feels. There a beat of silence a moment too long, but it feels suffocating and Hoseok scrambles, wondering how long it’ll take him to fling himself out the window of your apartment. “Actually, no, that’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anything, I just thought I’d drop a suggestion—!”

“No, no, it’s not a stupid idea!” You retort a bit too quickly yourself, and it shows in your expression. You bite your lip, swallowing thickly, and can’t look him in the eye either. “I-I mean, we’ve spent all this time together so it wouldn’t be too different from our interactions right now.”

“R-Right,” He says, unsure if he’s trying to convince himself or you because he had promised himself a week ago that he would do well in keeping his feelings in check and when that clearly hadn’t worked, any normal or sane person would know that the next solution would be to step away to try and write away those emotional attachments so what the fuck is he doing? Offering to be your boyfriend for a day—was he serious? “I mean, actually, I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t know how well of a boyfriend I could be, I’m not good with the whole relationship thing.”

“Me either,” You shrug, although your reasoning is a whole lot different from his. “We can just figure it out together, we have a whole twenty-four hours before the gathering.” You meet his gaze, looking a whole lot calmer and reassured than you had seconds ago, which is interesting considering that Hoseok still looks like he’s just been challenged to duel with a bear. “Hoseok, please? I don’t really trust anyone else right now not to fuck this up.”

“Not fuck this up,” Hoseok echoes, running a hand through his hair, the worry still prevalent although he had been the one to make the suggestion in the first place. The fact that you’re putting all this trust in him only makes him more nervous, more hesitate about letting you down, how he doesn’t want to disappoint you. But it does make his heart race, does fill him with the vaguest sense of pride, which is probably why he can’t turn you down, why he made the offer in the first place, why he keeps coming back to you.

“Please?” Your eyes are wide now, wider than he’s seen them before and you look like you’re about two seconds from grabbing his hands. Not that he would mind that. “I’ll buy you all the tacos you want.”

He scoffs. “Yah, you really think food is going to sway me?”

“If we go to taco trucks, then maybe?” You answer hesitantly. Rather than making a grab for his hands, you lace yours together. “Hoseok, please. Besides, you can’t just drop a life saving suggestion like that and just walk away.” Your eyes light up, which he knows cannot be a good sign. “Plus, you owe me! I helped bump your Philosophy grade up to a B!”

That is true, yet the argument of him owing you a favor is not the reason why he relents, why he lowers his arm and lets out a sigh to feign exasperation. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”

Your eyes brighten as you clap your hands together. “Really? Hoseok, thank you, it means so much that you would do this for me.”

You take your time to gaze up at him, bright smile overtaking your features, the gratefulness etched in your eyes and he responds with a pinch to your cheeks.

“I’m just in it for the tacos.”

As it turns out, and as one might have guessed, Jung Hoseok definitely does not agree to do anything just for three-dollar tacos that he could just as easily go out during taco truck season and purchase a handful himself. He definitely does not agree to do anything for anyone. Period.

So what the fuck is he doing here, on a Saturday morning, back at your apartment, your hand extended out towards him, fingers curling in slightly the longer he leaves you hanging because this—this—is just too much, too overwhelming, too—!

“Weird!” Hoseok whines, bringing his own hands close to his chest. Your hand is still being offered toward him, your knuckles and skin look soft and the space between your fingers look lonely and a hand has never looked so tempting before and maybe that’s why he’s being so strange and so hesitant. He knows he’s about to bite off more than he can chew, knows that this is all much easier in theory than actual practice, but he can’t help himself.

You roll your eyes without contempt. “C’mon Hoseok, it’s just my hand, it’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“You clearly haven’t been on the receiving end of any of your slaps before,” He bites back, although he doesn’t know why he’s trying to put up such a fight. This had been his idea to start with and his idea to do this with you, yet he’s the one being stubborn about it.

You pout. “Hoseok, this family gathering is in less than ten hours; we need to have at least some kind of practice on hand holding and relationship shit, I don’t want either of us screaming when the other tries to wrap arms around the other’s waist or something.”

“That would be pretty funny though,” Hoseok adds, grinning, the smile diffusing when you shove his shoulder. “Ow, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll be serious now.”

“Good.” You reply, offering your hand towards him once more.

Hoseok flickers his gaze from you to the hand settled between the two of you. He looks down at his own hand, already looking significantly bigger than your own and wonders not for the first time if this would really be a good idea before reaching to overlap his hand with your own. Strangely, the palms fit nicely on top of each other, even as everything around him feels as if it’s slowing down to match the chilling and overwhelming sensation of fingers lacing through the empty spaces.

He can’t tell if he’s sweating or the feeling of his heartbeat increasing dangerously could be felt through the skin. He really doesn’t hope that’s the case, especially since the last time he held hands with a girl was during some middle school theater production which went about as well as one might think—even considering the fact that he hated that girl to death. Now that he’s here, with someone who he most definitely does not hate, holding your hand, the experience is sending his brain in through a haywire.

Still, despite his own feelings to keep himself afloat, he can’t help but bask in the sensation of your touch. He hadn’t even realized how desperately he needed it until this moment, how nice and natural it feels to hold your hand like this, even though your fingers and palm are much smaller in comparison to his. It makes him feel protective and needed, but also reassured and comforted.

“You’re tense,” You point out, giving him a side eye, which is when he realizes that yes, he’s just about as relaxed as a board.

“I’m not,” He says instead, trying to hunch his back slightly to give off the impression of being slightly more composed despite the fire going on in his mind.

“Yes you are!” You fight back, untangling your fingers from his and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. It’s almost embarrassing how lonely his hand now feels on its own. “Hoseok, you have to loosen up otherwise we’re never going to pull this off.”

He lets out a breath. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m not use to this, okay sweetheart? It’s not like there’s a FAKE RELATIONSHIP RULES FOR DUMMIES book at Barnes and Nobles that we could pick up and skim through.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “That would be a pretty good idea actually, you think we should go check it out just to make sure—?”

“Y/N.”

You close your eyes, shake your head. “Right, right. Okay. Here, how about we do a little bonding exercise that I learned while at summer camp.” You’re leaning over to the coffee table to make reach for your phone. “It’s where we look at each other for two minutes in complete silence.”

“Uh.” If the thought of holding your hand is more than enough to set Hoseok’s body aflame, then having to stare at you makes worries spring up in his mind. What if you caught his eye and read all the emotions he had tried to stomp away to a place where they would never have to see sunlight again? What if he can’t stop himself from staring at your lips and kissing you or whispering a dreadful secret that usually takes the form of three words?

However, before he can speak the first set of excuses that reach his mind, you’re already setting the two minute timer on your phone and turning to look at him. He’s expecting something dreadful and awkward and flushed cheeks, but once again he finds that he is pleasantly surprised. It’s definitely an unique experience, but it’s not uncomfortable or bothersome by any means. He finds that he cannot simply stare at one place for too long, even though you’re rather good at keeping your eye contact with him. He looks at your eyes, takes in the deep color that threatens to drown him, how he can count the number of specs that dance behind the orbs. Then, he decides to move on, taking in the sloping curve of your eyebrows, the apples of your cheeks, your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips—!

Panicking, he darts his eyes back up to find yours once more. It’s only two minutes of his life, but the seconds sure seem to stretch out. He watches the way you flicker your gaze between his eyes, an unusual touch hidden within the color, the occasional flicker downwards and he can feel his heart racing and plunging and compressing all in one when he mirrors your gaze and finds that you have been staring at his lips, just as he now is with you—oh fuck—!

The timer goes off.

You blink, pulling yourself away from the situation and bringing your attention to your phone to turn off the timer, leaving Hoseok alone with his thoughts over what had just happened and what could have potentially happened if time had been irrelevant. He leans back on the couch, watching you, trying to will his heart to calm down before facing you again. He allows himself two deep breaths in and out, offering his hand out to you this time.

You catch the gesture out of the corner of your eye and grin, reaching over to take it slowly, lacing the fingers together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to do. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You look at him, continuing to smile with all teeth and no hesitance, yet there is a longing touch of something crinkling at the corner of your eyes and there is something lopsided about your smile that he finds difficult to ignore.

Yet he does, just managing a smile and he squeezes your hand just enough to keep him grounded. “Yeah.”

Even with the brief overview of your family, a simple walk through on how the pair of you met, how long you’ve been together, even when the small practices on hand holding and arms curling around the waist, trying to do enough to plant an air of naturality between the two of you, it doesn’t feel like enough—although Hoseok is sure that all the preparation in the world wouldn’t come close to making him feel any more assured. It makes him wonder why he had decided to engage in something of this degree, why he would dare to make himself pretend to have feelings when he really does but he can’t have you know that. The complication of having to feign emotions that he actually harbors while acting like he doesn’t while he really does is enough to make his head spin.

All he knows is that he cannot seem to stop drumming his fingers, a nervous habit that he developed at a young age and something he just couldn’t seem to write off so here he is years later drumming his fingers on his legs, on the dashboard, against the back of your hand as he pair of you wait on the front porch of your relative’s estate.

“Don’t worry,” You say underneath your breath, as if your entire family could hear you through the door. “You’ll be great. Just don’t try to overthink it—just be yourself.”

Hoseok exhales. “It’s impossible to put ‘being myself’ and ‘overthinking’ in the same sentence.”

You give him a side glare. “You know what I mean.”

He does know what you really mean, but he doesn’t get to say that because the door swings open to reveal a figure who he recognizes to be your mother. “Y/N!” She greets, delivering forth a bright smile even as her gaze slides over and notices Hoseok by your side. “Oh, who’s this?”

You cast him a look. “Uh, mom, this is Hoseok, my boyfriend,” You introduce, turning to look at him again. “Hoseok, this is my mom.”

Your mom claps her hands together, looking ecstatic that you’ve (finally) been able to bring someone to a family gathering, and she isn’t afraid to voice that out loud as she gestures for the pair of you to step inside. A majority of the rooms are filled with groups of people, each engaged in their own conversations, but each take the time to say their hellos as well as bombard poor Hoseok with questions regarding his major, family life, friendships, his plans for the future. These don’t last long, thankfully, because you do well on dragging him away when he feels like he’s about to burst.

He’s too caught up in answering the questions, in trying to come up with decent answers that’ll impress your relatives that he nearly forgets about you until the pair of you are finally alone for the first time in almost an hour, both of you at the buffet table.

He’s in the middle of trying to reach for a wonton when, “Hey.” A nudge right into his rib cage. “Hey.”

“Ouch, what? What is it?” Hoseok returns, suddenly all alerts and careful eyes as he turns his neck slightly to look at you. You’re staring right back at him, taking in his cautious expression and worried front—the same one that he’s had since the start of this gathering. As casual as it may be, and as laid-back as your family actually is, Hoseok still feels like he’s been stepping on pins and needles since the start of this goddamn thing, since the start of the goddamn request that’s gotten him in this mess to begin with, since he discovered you at the kitchen counter in a time that suddenly seems so long ago.

“My aunts and uncles have been staring at you for the past twenty minutes,” You hiss, trying to keep your voice low and smile present, so your relatives would think you and Hoseok were discussing typical romantic relationship shit (whatever the fuck that meant) rather than planning on how to go about continuing to lie to their faces.

“What am I supposed to do about that?”

You give him a side glare. “Shouldn’t you be more… I don’t know, romantic or something? Everyone is looking at you like you’re not doing enough.”

“I’m just doing what you taught me back at the apartment!” He protests, lowering his voice when he sees the warning glint in your eyes. “In case you didn’t realize, sweetheart, I’m just as lost and confused as you are. I’m playing this by ear just as much as you are.”

You make a face at him, one that he returns back with ease, until you’re reaching over to gently pinch his cheek. “Okay, how about this. We’ll just keep walking around, maybe talk to my cousins and my aunt over there. Put your arm around me.”

He sighs, trying desperately to think about all the free tacos you had promised him in exchange for this. He doesn’t try to think about how nice you feel underneath his touch, how warm and comforting and study you feel as you wrap your own arm around his waist, leading him through and making more conversation with your family. Even when the pair of you do find spots to sit at.

Yet, he still feels the impending weight of expectation on his shoulders, provided forth so lovingly from your family that takes the form of lingering stares and flickering eyes in a way that leaves him with the vaguest panic that your family isn’t entirely buying the handholding and quiet behind-the-scene bickering in the corner about how the fuck the pair of you were supposed to pull this off.

“Hey,” You say again, recapturing his attention as soon as the pair of you break away from the group once more with the excuse to throw away your finished plates, but also to engage in another private conversation. “Kiss me when everyone is looking.”

The forwardness of your statement is enough to get him to raise his eyebrow, although it’s not enough to mask the sudden racing of his heartbeat. “What?”

“My relatives are getting that disbelieving look on their face that I hate,” You explain, casting a sideways glance at them, to which Hoseok realizes that they’re all doing the exact same to the pair of you. “Please? Do this for me.”

He rolls his eyes to cover up the little voice inside of his head that says that he would pretty much do anything for you. Of course he would. Why else would he have agreed to take time out of his Saturday night just to convince your family that you weren’t as big a loser as they all seemed to think you were (although, honestly, you are a loser, but he means it more as a term of endearment because—oh, you know what, never mind).

So, for you, he flickers his gaze over to your family and can only catch a handful of them blatantly staring back at the pair of you before he is overcome with the sudden urge to follow through on your request.

Rather boldly, he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, stealing one last glance at your family before he brings a hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer, so close, but not close enough—he only manages a brush of his lips against yours before there are already butterflies and fireworks exploding in his stomach and behind his eyes. He only lets himself indulge in the lightest amount of pressure, the briefest graze of his tongue along your upper lip, before he’s pulling away just as quickly as he had come in.

He opens his eyes first, long enough to see you slowly peel your own eyes open, orbs gazing up at him with questions springing up behind the color like flowers taking in their first breath of spring, and although he isn’t aware of what his own eyes look like, he can only assume that he’s not too far off.

And if you hold him a little closer, grip his hand a little tighter, like you’re afraid to let go and watch him slip away, he tries not to pay attention to it and tries not to notice the way he feels the exact same way with you.

Walking to your apartment feels strangely like returning home, although he doesn’t entirely blame himself for this sensation. Truthfully, he’s spent more time in your space than he has in any other place throughout the duration of the week, whether it be with desperately trying to shove philosophy terms into his mind or training himself on how to hold your hand without simultaneously letting out all of his deep and meaningful secrets. He may roll his eyes about it or grumble about how uncool it is to your face, but he can’t really picture himself doing anything else now that he knows that you’ve been such an extensive feature of his life for a week.

This feeling leaves a strange and unpleasant sensation to brew in the pit of his stomach, the thought of what he’s going to do next when he steps away and no longer serves a purpose in your life plaguing his mind.

He must not do a good job of covering up his emotions, because he notices the way you spare him a glance out of the corner of your eye in the car, the way you turn to him, the way your arm reaches to cross the space of distance, the way your hand finds his. “Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t even have the mind to let you know that none of your relatives are in this apartment complex, that there is no need to put up a front and feel like you have to hold his hand out of sheer obligation, because he likes your touch and craves it and can’t lose it now that he’s been faced with all the goodness that happens while having it in his possession.

“Y-Yeah,” He manages after a moment, long after you’ve parked in your typical parking spot, bathing the pair of you in the darkness and the silence of the evening. “Everything is fine.”

The corner of your lips quirk up slightly as you try to untangle your fingers from Hoseok’s hold. “Okay.” You run the palm of your hands over each other. “You good to drive back?”

“L-Let me walk you to your door first,” He offers a little too quickly, but it’s worth it in the way you smile lightly, the way you nod and allow him to follow closely behind you as the pair of you make your way into the complex and into the elevator. There is an air of naturality that doesn’t feel too constraining, even as you both stand in silence, the movement of the elevator moving up providing background noise.

There is no pressure for conversation even as you lead him down the halls, even though he knows the direction by heart at this point. He doesn’t really know the purpose of his intentions, perhaps to extend this moment for a long as he possibly can, because Jung Hoseok may want to be a lot of new things because of you, but selfishness is a consistency he cannot stand to lose right now.

To him, it feels like you reach your front door too early, so he hopes that the disappointment doesn’t show in his features as you dig around your bag for your set of keys before turning around to face him once more. You bite your lip to hide your smile as you gesture to the closed door with your shoulder. “So, this is me.”

He smiles back. “I know.”

You nod, taking in a breath, steering yourself for the next set of words that are about to leave your mouth. “Hoseok, thank you again for today. You really helped me out and now I can just prolong on getting a real boyfriend, which might be good for my sanity, so thank you.”

“Of course,” He manages earnestly. “You helped me with my Philosophy grade, so it only seems fair.”

“You’d better work hard on maintaining it though,” You tease. “I won’t accept any excuses if you try to come crawling back to me.”

“I’ll miss you breathing down my neck though,” He retorts back with just as much of a light-hearted touch to his statement, because it’s the truth. Even though the pair of you still share the same Philosophy lecture, it still feels like as soon as he allows himself to walk down the hall, things would be different. “Hey, another thing…”

“What is it?” You tilt your head to the side.

“You… you shouldn’t see getting a real boyfriend as an obligation,” He manages, scratching the back of his neck because this hadn’t been rehearsed. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll find the right guy no matter what—anyone would be crazy not to fall in love with you.” Myself included.

Something in your expression changes. Your eyes widen slightly, your lips part, you look genuinely taken aback by his words, as if you hadn’t expected anything of the sort; yet you don’t look angered or discomforted by it. Instead, you smile shyly, pressing your lips together and you cannot look him in the eye and he wonders if your heart is beating just as much as his.

So he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and willing you to meet his gaze, which you do after a moment of hesitation. Your eyes have taken on a glassy shade, a feeling hidden behind that is not unlike the glimmer he saw back at the gathering. There is a yearning that he feels in his own nerves, underneath his own fingertips, silently pleading him and guiding him forward. He cups the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he brings you towards him to press his mouth against yours—the sensation not unlike the kiss he delivered to you at the gathering. But there something more; both of you want more, and it shows in the way you grip his t-shirt this time, the way you lean forward to return his kiss.

It’s like swarms of butterflies have grown in his stomach, his heart expanding to the size of the moon for a different reason other than just pure adoration for you—it feels like something more earth-changing, a feeling more hardwired to another akin to eternity, like he could spend forever just kissing you and being with you and he wouldn’t mind one goddamn bit.

Both his hands have moved up to cup your face to keep you as close as possible and even closer than that, his fingers desperately trying to remember everything about this moment, from the way your neck as craned up to meet his mouth, the way he can feel your heartbeat against his skin.

“Y/N,” He grunts against your lips, the vibrations dragging whimpers from the back of your throat. “I-I have to tell you something.”

The sound of the front door opening immediately pulls both of you from your trane, sending a whirlwind of different emotions through his body as his first instinct is to rip himself away from you. It appears to be your reflexive decision as well, because you back up so sharply that you hit the doorframe. It allows him to see the flushed complexion of your face, the fact that he made you like that, but it also allows him to see that Karly is the one who had opened the door.

It’s easy to see the shock upon her expression, the momentarily flare of jealousy that goes off like an explosion behind her eyes, but that light disappears just as quickly as it had come, because she is suddenly back to being the attentive roommate Hoseok never got to see.

“Y/N, you’re back,” She says, training her gaze intently on you in order to gauge your features. “How was the gathering?”

You catch your breath, looking down to pick up the keys you hadn’t even noticed you had dropped. “U-Uh it went good. Great, actually.” You flicker your gaze over to Hoseok. “I-I should go.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

He exhales in a laugh. “I look forward to it. B-Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Hoseok.” You spare him one last glance before allowing Karly to drag you into the apartment.

It’s hard to categorize your feelings as you step in through the door and can barely catch the way Karly shuts the door behind you, too overcome by a tickling, fluttering sensation rooted at the bottom of your chest. It makes your fingers reach up for your lips, makes your mouth curl up at the corners, makes the longing sensation in Hoseok’s voice and eyes replay itself over and over again like flickers in the back of your mind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Karly inquires softly, snapping you out of your trance as you whirl around to find her still lingering by the door. Her gaze is fixated intensely on you, not a ounce of remorse or envy or sadness hidden behind her eyes—instead, there is something akin to sympathy and that gets you to stall slightly with your movements.

“Karly…” You start, bringing your fingers together. “I just—!”

“I get that he offered to pretend being your boyfriend and all, and that’s fine, but pretend anythings don’t make out like that in front of an apartment,” She notes, gesturing past the door but you don’t need a reminder. “When did… that start happening?”

You shake your head, shrugging. “I don’t know, I think something has always been there.”

“Are you in love with Hoseok?”

You dig your nails into the skin of your fingers, the fear of having to battle this question hitting you for the very first time since you started that… thing with the boy. You recognize that your friendship with him doesn’t necessarily sprout from the most traditional of means, but you like to think the pair of you have reached a good place, a stable setting, a relatively strong foundation. It’s why you trust him so much, even though you shouldn’t, why you’re so naturally fond and drawn to him, despite his reputation.

“Look,” Karly starts, her voice soft and soothing and clearly preparing you for some bad news as she takes the few steps in order to reach you. “Y/N, I really care about you, and I know your whole deal with relationships isn’t the most positive so I would hate for you to get hurt. I just, I’m just not sure if Hoseok is the best thing to be introduced in your life. I mean, look at him! Look at his reputation! If he and I hadn’t had sex that night, the pair of you might not have even met in the first place.”

You give her a nervous look, having completely forgotten that the only reason Hoseok was in your apartment in the first place was because he and Karly did have sex that night—and much like cold water you can feel the reality of the situation beginning to settle in. You are reminded of the difference you and Hoseok led in terms of interest, activities, and ambitions; how you believed in love and romance and Hoseok has never committed himself to a relationship, how Hoseok did not do the relationship thing, how he used them until they used up their purpose in his life.

It makes you think, makes you think if all of these things Hoseok has done with you has been part of an act, as been part of his desire to knock another girl off his list. He had been trying to flirt with you when the pair of you first met, perhaps he had tried to do whatever he could to get under your skin. It had worked.

You had played yourself right into his trap.

“Guys like Hoseok,” Karly adds in, reaching over to rest her hand gently on your shoulder. “They take innocent girls, ones who haven’t been hardened by life yet, girls like you, and he gives them a reason to make them wary. He doesn’t do the dating thing, I’m not even sure if he has the emotional capability to hold romantic feelings anymore.”

You look up and fixate your attention on Karly’s expression, seeing the truth of her words and the purity of her intentions and you find yourself consoling in it. After all, Karly is a byproduct of the same world that Hoseok lives, so it makes sense that Karly would have a closer hand in understanding the type of thoughts running through the boy’s mind.

Karly squeezes your shoulder. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you’re my best friend and I know that it’s best to let you know these ahead of time before you get hurt.”

“Do… do you think he’s just using me?”

She sighs. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen him return back to people the way he returns back to you. But I just… I don’t know, Y/N, he’s bad news—bad news before you met and he’ll probably just be more bad news once the pair of you move past this.”

You press your lips together, mind reeling over this presentation of new information and how a seemingly perfect day can go horribly wrong within the span of just a few minutes. There are so many questions you have, so many things you want to ask that it makes your head spin, but you simply nod and grumble something about going to your room.

In a way, you shouldn’t be mad at Karly for sharing her concerns with you, because Karly is one of your best friends and telling her not to be honest with you was something that you would never want to do to her. If anything, you should be mad at yourself for letting your mess with Hoseok unravel and letting yourself be blinded with the dose of reality you knew would come back to bite you in the ass at some point.

You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be so naive, to think that the world didn’t exist beyond the walls in which you and Hoseok used to isolate yourselves from the world, to think that the time you shared together could just carry on forever with no repercussions whatsoever.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, why would Hoseok actually want to date you? What kind of personal benefits would come out of that? He wouldn’t gain anything socially and people like Hoseok thrive off their social life. The longer you sit on your bed, letting Karly’s words and your own insecurities eat at the inside of your mind, the longer you can feel its poison settling in that you had to end things with Hoseok and that you had to cut yourself out of his life while you still could.

You wonder if it’ll hurt, but you wonder if he’ll even care.

With a sigh, you lay yourself atop the covers of your bed, curling up and only allowing the words of your roommate to sink even lower and lower underneath your skin. Hoseok has always been quiet about his feelings, always quiet about where he saw you and him in the long run, always quiet about whether or not you were actually of value in his life—all of which leaves an uncomfortable sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach.

You needed to do this, if only to make it easier for you to let go, if only to let you swallow the pill of Hoseok’s real life with a bit more ease.

You know it’s the right thing to do for the sake of your sanity, yet you find yourself still dreading the thought of walking into Philosophy and seeing Hoseok and wondering if he has any idea. He probably doesn’t, probably doesn’t even realize what he’s been doing to you for the past few weeks, probably doesn’t even care.

The thoughts are valid enough to drill itself into your mind with little resistance to the matter. Why would there even be a problem with trying to convince you otherwise? Doubt festers like a poison in your mind because Karly has a point. You and Hoseok are separated by miles and oceans and space filled with different activities and different interacts and different futures—you weren’t cool like him or talented or funny. You would never had the opportunity to talk to him or be with him or fall in love with him if it wasn’t for Karly introducing him into your life.

And now you were paying the price.

You don’t go to class on that following Monday. It’s a first for you, but the thought of having to sit next to Hoseok and have him smile at you and remain oblivious to your mindset only makes you nauseous and hurt. You know that the more responsible thing to do would be to confront Hoseok and just say the words that have gradually become more and more lodged in the back of your throat but you also can’t bring yourself to be upfront. Being upfront would make everything a reality and could potentially uncover everything that you’ve tried to hide away.

So you stay quiet and you stay away. You ignore Hoseok’s texts inquiring about your whereabouts and if you had caught a cold, you ignore his calls and when he shows up at your front door with polite knocks and stammering questions. You know that Hoseok isn’t stupid and you know that ignoring the problem won’t make it go away and yet you persist on.

It’s only a matter of time before Hoseok is able to catch you, able to find a flaw in your schedule of How To Avoid Jung Hoseok—but you have to admit that he seeks you out much quicker than you had originally anticipated.

Except you really hadn’t expected to find him in your apartment, although you don’t know why you’re so surprised. You had told him where the spare key was and had completely forgotten to move it after attempting to set your plan into motion. This just goes to show how little success your arrangement involving Hoseok typically go.

“Hoseok,” You manage to greet, finding yourself completely rooted to the spot as you practically stick yourself to the front door, the noise echoing through the silence of the apartment. You wish Karly was here to help you find your bearings but of course she’s out attending another party. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I was always welcomed into your apartment anytime,” He says softly, a undertone of hurt in his voice but you do well in trying to ignore it. “You’ve been avoiding me for the past few days so I wasn’t sure if the offer still stands.”

You chew your lip, angling your head away from Hoseok’s intense stare so you could attempt to hide away from the full impact and full emotion dancing behind his eyes. “I’m not avoiding you,” You try, swallowing and knowing that you are terrible at lying to him.

“You haven’t been going to our philosophy class,” He reasons. “You always attend class.” He straightens off the kitchen table where he had been originally seated. “The only thing that changed between last class and the class you didn’t attend was…” He trails off, clearly in reference to the kiss that still makes your cheeks burn. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I do something to hurt you? Because I’m sorry if I did, you’re honestly the last person I would ever want to hurt.”

“I-It wasn’t you,” You protest weakly.

“Then what was it?” Hoseok presses, stepping closer to you. “Is someone fucking with you? Is something on your mind? You know you can always come to me if something is bothering you.” He makes a move, as if he wants to grab you and keep you from drifting so far away even if you haven’t moved from your position against the door since arriving. But he must see something in your eyes that spell out just how much you’re lying to him that it keeps him from reaching out to you.

You press your lips together, trying to steel your nerves and make yourself stronger. “I can’t do this anymore,” You whisper, looking up from some faraway point in the distance to risk a glance at Hoseok’s expression.

There is a flash of something in his eyes, something that you are unable to catch before it flickers away. He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” You whisper back. “Look Hoseok, we’re just from two completely different worlds and we both have different expectations for our own lives. You live your life the way you want to just as I do the same for myself and I think trying to avoid that will just be prolonging it.”

“Woah, woah,” Hoseok cuts in, bringing a hand up to the door to cage you in. “Y/N, where is this coming from?”

“It’s not coming from anywhere,” You say, shaking your head a little. “It’s just, you’re you and I’m just… me.”

“You’re just you?” He repeats, furrowing his eyebrows together. “What are you talking about? You aren’t making sense.”

You shake your head, already feeling the flush of embarrassment beginning to hit your cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. I think you should leave now.”

Hoseok swallows, clenches his jaw together, something he only does when he’s desperately trying to understand something to no success. You’ve seen the expression more than once while tutoring him and just being around him so you have to look down before you can start to regret shutting him out.

“Y/N, please, try to help me understand,” He urges quietly, desperately, leaning in, cupping your face with one hand. “Please. You’ve become so important to me that the fact that you’re just shutting me out now is just so confusing and I don’t think I can handle that.”

You move to pry his hands from your face. “We’re just two completely different people from two different worlds and it’ll never work out. You should go.”

“But I just—!”

“Go.” You cut in, closing your eyes, a note of finality in your tone, letting go of Hoseok’s hand and moving to the side to leave the door wide open. He doesn’t try to stop you this time, doesn’t try to suck the answer out of you through puppy dog eyes. Instead he watches you for a few more seconds, as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. He recognizes your stubborn nature and knows how difficult it is to fight it. So he nods regretfully, opening the door, turning to look at you one last time, before finally taking his leave.

You are left alone in the apartment, staring at the spot that Hoseok once stood as you process everything and try not to tell yourself that you had just made a terrible mistake.

Jung Hoseok doesn’t try to contact you after that and for a moment, you are grateful. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you must mean that Karly’s previous accusations have been right and the boy is only now starting to realize that you have caught on. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you means that you can attempt for some closure and be able to end that chapter of your life without making too big of a deal about it.

However, like everything in your life that involves Jung Hoseok, there is flip side to every blessing and it’s as if life can never wait too long before attempting to bite you back in the ass.

Except this time, this particular moment just feels like the biggest bite the world has ever delivered to you.

If you had known an hour ago that walking into the coffee shop just off campus would result in exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid for a weeks now, perhaps you would have rethought your decision to enter aforementioned coffee shop in the first place. Maybe you would have rethought the schedule of your entire day, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid the shop and therefore avoid him.

Not just avoid him, but avoid those lingering stares he’s been giving you for the past few weeks—the touch of desperation that always seemed to hide in the inner corner of his eyes but worse of all that feeling you got in your chest whenever he was in close proximity. Like right now, for example.

All you know is that maybe, just maybe, turning around had not been the smartest trick in the book and you should consider yourself lucky for not dropping your coffee upon the ground. You have a tendency of getting carried away in the midst of a great shock, especially when it comes to Hoseok.

He’s giving you a wide-eyed stare, the kind that reveals the depth of his shock and how he had most certainly not been expecting to actually run into you today. Even though the pair of you still share class, you’ve always managed to escape before he could successfully corner you and it’s clear that he’s almost given up the prospect of trying to fix whatever had broken between the two of you.

At once, seeing him right here and right now, just reminds you of all the characteristics and qualities you’ve come to adore so much about him: from his warm, good-spirit to his dorky and careful habits that almost didn’t match the popular facade he gave off constantly in the halls. Within such a short period of time, you made him different and better—time and distance definitely has not come close to changing that.

“Hey,” You say, voice barely above a whisper. “Y-You aren’t following me, are you?”

“U-Um…” He stammers, returning your question with his own awestruck quality, his tone airy and unbelievable and you wish you would have better prepared yourself for a situation like this. The pair of you go to the same university and attend the same class and have come to know him better than you know yourself in only a week—how the fuck could you have not seen this coming? “N-No, I’m really not. I just… I just needed a caffeine fix.”

You nod quickly, holding up your own cup of coffee and gripping it a little too tightly with the hopes he won’t see the way your fingers tremble. “Me too. H-How have things been with you? It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” He agrees, trying for a shrug. “I, uh, just found out I got this job at the music studio in the city. It’s just for an internship, but I’ll get to organize music and meet producers so I’m pretty excited.”

The news of Hoseok’s good fortune makes you lower your coffee and lower your guard, lips parting and curling up and the hesitancy momentarily disappearing. “Really? Hoseok, that’s so great.”

“Thanks,” He returns breathlessly, lips curling up into his own, private smile—the kind that’s usually only reserved for you. “C-Can you stick around? We can catch up.”

For a moment, you blame the momentary race of your heartbeat on the anticipation you had constantly felt towards the thought of a moment like this and how hesitant you are. Of course you’re still feeling this way. After all, as soon as Hoseok walked out of the apartment, you had fully readied yourself to carry on with the rest of your life with the boy no longer in the picture. You had gone through the whole process of accepting your differences and coming to terms with the fact that things would never have worked out regardless of your beliefs and your hopes and the whole reversal process of your grief is not something that could be so easily mended over a cup of coffee.

So why does a part of you feel like it could? Maybe it’s the romantic part of you, the hopeful part that has always loved and believed in Jung Hoseok and the idea that perhaps he could return your feelings, the part you’re often too scared to think about that just wants to try and make things right.

All it takes is one lingering gaze upon his expression, to really see all that desperation and pleading in such close proximity for you, kind-hearted and whole and reassuring and much too good for this world, to cave. “Oh, alright.”

You try to ignore the way his eyes light up, the way the corner of his lips turn up for a second too long before he’s leading the way, gesturing to a corner booth big enough to house the two of you and private enough that you don’t have to think about any onlookers—a probably unconscious movement on Hoseok’s part that you find yourself appreciating. That way no one will see the popular, the charming, the star athlete, hanging out with the quiet, the studious, the nobody.

You swallow. You try not to think about those things, because thinking like that will lead to missing him, which would lead to wanting him back in your life, and you don’t think you could stand the heartbreak of having to let go of him again due to your own insecurities.

“So, how have you been?” He starts off, slow and steady and testing the waters, not knowing how far he can go without getting shut out again. It seems as if no matter how far he tried to separate himself, his mind always returned him back to that evening where his whole life changed, in which he tried to do everything afterwards to separate himself from his feelings to no true success.

You brush the hair out of your face, picking up your coffee in favor of looking at him because you have a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach that tells you he’s most definitely watching you and trying to generate some sort of noteworthy response. You wonder what his expectations of you are right now and you wonder if you’re any close to meeting it—you wonder if he’s hoping you would be willing to offer some sort of explanation pertaining to that night and you wonder if you’re willing to be that vulnerable.

“I’ve been good,” You say, nodding carefully, curious about how much would be appropriate to disclose to someone you used to not think twice about telling everything to. A part of you hates it, hates the wall that you’ve gradually started to build around yourself, even if it had been done so out of your own fears and insecurities of not being good enough. You decide to talk briefly about your classes before you find yourself accidentally going off about a recent situation that had occurred while you took a visit to the campus bookstore.

To go more into detail, you talk about talking into aforementioned shop looking for twenty books for some English extra credit assignment, in which said twenty books needed to be read and converted into an essay. You go into the difficulty of trying to find all those novels on your own, how you had attempted to stack one on top of the other only to have the whole thing fall in you, how you had received multiple bruises along your face and arm as a result. By the time the story is done, Hoseok is smiling fondly over at you, shaking his head with a smile still present on his lips.

“You’re just way too clumsy for your own good,” He points out, lowering his hand, eyes never leaving yours.

His statement leaves you unable to stop from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I bet you must really miss me and all of this, huh?”

The question, meant to be nothing but sarcastic and light-hearted and your stupid, stupid attempt to rid of the tension in the atmosphere, produces only the stiffest laugh from the back of your throat. You lift your coffee, desperate for some kind of distraction to keep your hands busy, but you make the mistake of lifting your gaze to see how Hoseok is taking your stupid, stupid joke.

You stop short when you notice how quiet he’s become, how silent and unbearable your words have rendered him into and for a moment, you think that you are the one who has overstepped the line—which, considering everything Hoseok has subjected to you over the course of the week you had gotten to know him, is stating a lot.

Hoseok’s attention is focused entirely on you, lips parted slightly, and you swear you can see the way his breathing has picked up as if he’s trying to will himself to say something that could either make or break the next step of your relationship.

It isn’t until your own smile has diffused does he finally will himself to speak his mind: “You know I have.”

You swallow, looking down at your coffee cup and tracing your finger lightly over the rim, feeling the panic of Hoseok’s words start to settle in. “T-That was out of line for me to say,” You say, tightening your grip on the cup and starting to stand. A flash of panic flickers in Hoseok’s eyes. “I should go.”

“N-No, Y/N, wait.” Hoseok stands up just enough to make a desperate grab for your wrist. You stare back at him with wide-eyes. “Please, just stay for a moment. I haven’t been able to talk to you or even look at you for too long over the past few weeks and it’s been driving me crazy s-so please. Stop shutting me out. Tell me what I did wrong, and I promise I’ll fix it.”

“It’s really not you, Hoseok,” You state, staring down at the sight of his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “It’s me.”

“Bullshit,” He cuts in, interrupting you with so such a sneer that you find yourself looking up to study his expression. He clenches his jaw, trying to will himself to stay calm but it’s hard. “You don’t get to look at me like I’ve become your whole world and then avoid me and never talk to me again—that’s not fair.”

You try to pull your wrist back to no luck. “Oh, you mean like what you were going to do to me eventually? I was just trying to spare myself that heartbreak from letting you drag out whatever this is any longer.”

Hoseok knits his eyebrows together. “Like what I was going to do to you? What are you talking about? I would never do anything to hurt you like that.”

“Well, why not?” You bite back. “Why would I be any different from all these other girls that you sleep with and mess around with?”

He looks pained. “Are you really asking me what makes you so different?”

“Of course I am! Why would I be different? I’ve got nothing going for me when it comes to you—I mean, you’re Jung Hoseok and I’m just me; you’re just as out of my league as you were when we first met. I don’t live like you so how could I ever be enough for you—!”

Without a warning, Hoseok tightens his grip on your wrist and steps out of his side of the booth, circling around in order to be as close to you as possible. “It’s because I’m in love with you, you fucking moron. I don’t care if you don’t live like me, I’m glad you don’t because I’ve always hated the thought of you only seeing me as the party kid, the guy who messes around with girls, or the guy who doesn’t even care because I care about you so much that I didn’t even think that was possible.”

You continue to stare wide-eyed at the boy, flickering your gaze between his eyes as if trying to read any potential sarcasm in his statement and you grow increasingly more nervous when you can’t find any of that. “B-But,” You manage. “I’m just me—!”

“Yeah,” He interrupts. “You’re just you—but that’s what I love so much. You being you is the only thing I’ll ever need. I promise. Please give me the chance to show you how much you mean to me.”

You flicker your gaze down to his lips, switching between his mouth and his eyes and knowing you can never resist him and that maybe Karly didn’t know as much as you thought she did. “Okay,” You whisper, nodding even after the words of confirmation leave your lips.

Hoseok’s own eyes widen for a second, his lips curling up into that breathless smile you love so much. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Yeah, I believe you. I trust you—and I love you too.”

He presses his lips together, but his attempt to diffuse his smile doesn’t work out. “So, is there another family gathering you need to attend? It’ll feel less guilty when we go knowing that we aren’t lying to them the next time around.”

You laugh, heart racing at the implication of his statement. “I know.”

#bangtan bookclub #hoseok scenario #hoseok fluff #jung hoseok scenario #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts x reader #traci writes #repost: workofteaguk

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