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wannaghostbts · 12 days ago

Note

Guess we were ships in the night... night... night!~

Strawberry Smoothie, Garden Salad, and Broccoli Cheese Soup with Reuben!

Enlaced || kth

🍽️ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

🍽️ Rating/Genre: PG-13; Angst, enimies2lovers au

🍽️ Warnings: Metaphor to scars that may trigger s*lf h*rm (Anon, message me if this is a trigger, and I’ll repost for you c: )

🍽️ Word count: 1.5k (I really tried to keep this under 1k sigh)

🍽️ Author’s Note: My first ever request ahhhhhafdkjvfd. Thank you, anon. ^♡^ I hope it satisfies you.

🍽️ Beta: @heejinnien (ily and your big brain)

This was for the BHQ Bistro Drabbles’s.

The second you caught sight of the dark curls entering the bistro, you knew you were in trouble.

You mumbled a half-ass excuse to your coworker before stumbling through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door. Luckily, the break room was empty and you found yourself leaned over the table with your head in your hands.

Maybe you were being overdramatic.

Maybe you shouldn’t be miffed about seeing your ex-best friend. Something about those damn fluffy locks had your heart tripping inside your chest despite your displeasure. Whatever it was, you didn’t like it. There was too much baggage behind closed doors. Taehyung had been your partner in crime since you were toddlers up until a year ago. To say your wounds haven’t turned into scars would be an understatement. They still felt like they were bleeding—fresh and painful.

The door to the break room opening had your head snap up. You tensed when you realized it was your manager.

“Yn? It’s not your break time, right? What are you doing here?”

“Stomach aches,” you blurted and moved your arms over your tummy for emphasis. Your manager narrowed her eyes at you, scrutinizing you under her cold gaze. You silently hoped she would take the bait. Unfortunately, she swam away without a second glance at your offering.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she replied apathetically. “A big wave of customers just came in, though, and we need all hands on deck.”

Although it wasn’t a suggestion, you still hesitated to move. Your manager’s eyes were unwavering.

“Now, please,” she said sternly.

The trek back to the dining area was dreadful. It wasn’t far, yet your sluggish steps made it seem further away.

Taehyung wasn’t difficult to spot.

He sat at a table to the side, a small smile on his lips as he listened to his friends converse around him. He wasn’t talking, but he was still attentive. Envy rose in your chest as you involuntarily stared at his side profile.

He enraptured you.

Even after the heated argument that left you parting ways, he still found a way to weave a string around you. No matter how hard you tugged or sawed at the twine, you always found yourself here, pondering the what if’s and reshaping the event in your mind.

“Can you take these to table three?” Your coworker questioned and shoved two plates in your hands. You jumped at the sudden voice, nearly ruining the food displayed. Your coworker sent you a scowl as they examined their precious presentation before leaving you.

Grudgingly, you shuffled your way to table three. With a faux smile, you set down the plates and asked if they needed anything else. Thankfully, they didn’t.

Because of your everlasting luck, another waiter blocked your way to home base. Your eyes scanned the quaint bistro quickly, cursing inwardly when you realized the only open path was to past table seven; the same table Taehyung sat at with his friends. You hated the way you wished you were sitting next to him.

You could wait until your original path cleared, but your worker from before was gesturing for you to pick up another order. With a deep breath, you ducked your chin and began your swift steps. It wasn’t until the faintest of touches grazed your forearm that you halted.

Your wishful thinking that it would be a random customer was shattered when you heard his velvet voice.

“Excuse me, is it possible for us to get more sauce?”

No.

No, it wasn’t possible to get more sauce. It wasn’t possible to get anything from you.

A hand reached out to gently touch your arm, unwillingly catching your attention.

“Are you o-”

“No, I’m not okay,” you huffed and tore your arm away, feeling that tightness in your chest unraveling. It didn’t take long for Taehyung to register your voice.

“Yn?”

The simple way he murmured your name had you wishing you never met him. Never met Kim Taehyung, who befriended you because you were the loner in kindergarten. Kim Taehyung, who is so even-tempered that he didn’t even raise his voice at you the last time you saw him.

Somehow your gaze shifted to his. You knew that was a mistake the moment the corner of his eyes softened when they found yours. The walls of the bistro were suddenly replaced with his tan ones in his room a year ago.

Your screams echoed in your ears, mixed with his smooth voice trying to calm you. You weren’t listening, however. He was replacing you and gaining everything—popularity, friends, lead roles in musicals. The more he gained, the more you lost. He was no longer your Taehyung, but the Taehyung.

Everyone knew his name.

Everyone wanted to befriend him.

Although you had told him you didn’t want to hear his reassuring words, you did. You wanted him to promise you to spend more time with you. You wanted to be selfish and keep him in your bubble. The nagging voice had told you it was because of your evolving feelings toward him. That was impossible though. You weren’t falling for his stupidly handsome face. You didn’t listen to that voice, either. You simply didn’t want him to leave you behind. But perhaps you pushed too far because instead of telling you he would always be there for you, he told you to leave if you wanted.

Your pride held you back from apologizing weeks later. Instead, you fabricated every reason to loathe him.

The tan walls of his room came tumbling down like an uneven Janga tower, his dark eyes coming back into focus and pulling you from the memory. The order you were supposed to grab was far from your mind as you careened out of the building. A chilly breeze slapped your burning face instantly. You welcomed the cool air despite your short-sleeved shirt.

The pounding of your beating heart concealed the jingling of the door opening.

“Yn,” the deep voice repeated. Startled, you took a step from him and ignored the way the wind ruffled his soft curls. No, you didn’t want to run your fingers through his hair. That would be deranged. Almost as crazy as your urge to wrap your arms around his neck to feel his comforting hold. Would it still be comforting?

Scowling at your thoughts, your eyes widened as you gazed up at him, heart tightening when you realized he did what you wanted him to do a year ago.

He followed you.

When you didn’t respond, he continued, “I think we’re overdue for a talk.”

“We don’t need to talk. We’ve had our talk,” you rambled as you shook your head. When were you going to stop lying to yourself?

You watched as he ran his tongue along his lower lip before he spoke. That damn habit of his.

“You’re telling me that’s past you now?” He asked, humor almost gracing his tone that made you want to shove him on his ass.

“Of course,” you grumbled. For some reason, your grumpy response caused his lips to twitch into a miniature version of his classic boxy smile. It only had you deepening your scowl.

His expression turned solemn quickly. “I wished you didn’t listen to me.”

Your eyebrow furrowed in question.

“When I told you you could leave,” he explained, “I wish you didn’t leave.”

The number of times you opened and closed your mouth probably had you looking like a fish out of water. Taehyung, however, was patient.

“I-I wish you didn’t replace me,” you replied, voice shaky. He began shaking his head before you could finish your sentence.

“I was never replacing you, Yn,” he sighed—not out of annoyance but from dejection. “I always came back to you. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

You wanted to argue and claim that was false; however, that would put you in last year’s situation again. Instead, you allowed yourself time to process his words, turning them over in your mind, probing at the statements for cracks. You closed your eyes temporarily as you inhaled deeply. When you opened your eyes again, it felt as if you were looking through a different lens. No longer did you see horns and a pointed tail swishing in the back. If you were to see yourself, you would detect fondness in your eyes.

“You’re looking at me how I look at you,” he chuckled, eyes cat downward to roam your face. His hands softly rubbed at your arms, generating warmth to your goosebump-covered body. Something inside your chest was whirling. You averted your stare from his and settled on the beauty mark on his nose.

“And how do you look at me?” You questioned softly, eyes moving from his button nose to his brown eyes as if this moment would be swept away with the wind if you spoke too loudly. He lowered his head enough for you to feel the tips of his hair brushing against your forehead.

“Like I’m in love with you.”

Time slowed and your breath hitched. You wanted to laugh at how cliche this moment was, but you didn’t care. The racing of your heartbeat increased when he leaned toward you, eyes searching yours in a silent question. Rather than answering verbally, you tilted your chin up—lips ghosting his. Taehyung smiled at the action and pressed his mouth upon yours fully. His hands slid to your waist to pull you closer while yours rested against his firm chest.

Maybe you had fallen for his stupidly handsome face after all.

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

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wannaghostbts · 12 days ago

Text

I want to be your decalcomania! I want you~ ♡

higher power

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: waiting for jungkook to love again doesn't guarantee you a permanent romantic spot in his life, even if you've been in love with him the longest.

alternatively, you promised yourself to keep confessing to jungkook, your brother's best friend, every year until you turn twenty-eight.

[ fluff, angst, Drastic Yearning that it's painful to watch, tangled with the take five universe yippeeee, slippery slopes, mentions of cheating (there's none in actuality), jungkook's a bit mean :(, lots of self-deprecation n the concept of having to deserve love, mentions of surgery (appendectomy if we r being specific), homage to agust d's 28 (i fucking love u yoongi i miss u), arguments, redemption ]

notes: bring back men who YEARN!!! 😑😑

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

There's a step in your childhood home's staircase that Jungkook always trips on.

Your dad, and even your brother, Yoongi, repeatedly vow to fix it whenever they hear the all too familiar sound of Jungkook tripping on it. The way he’d wince because of it every single time is comedic, if not extremely endearing, because Jungkook would always clamp his hand down on his mouth as to not disturb anyone.

Doing his very best each time, Jungkook would have to clutch the banister as he waits for the pain to subside. He wants to groan loudly with everything that he has, but he can’t risk putting your dad in trouble with your mom by yelling at him to stop hurting Jungkook from delaying the repair of the step.

He even wants to collapse in pain sometimes (Jungkook’s not joking when he says that he almost wiped out so hard to the point that he only saw white and started tasting colors), but he tries not to, because if he falls and makes a commotion, he knows you’d immediately stand up and forfeit the already limited computer-borrowing hours you have because of Yoongi.

“I’d fix the step for you, y’know?” you mutter under your breath as you try to keep your laughter at bay, once again serving as the crutch to your brother’s best friend who’d completely entertain the possibility that your family has it out for him, if not for all the warmth that you give him. “If only Yoongi would lend me his computer for more than an hour and I didn’t have a ton of requirements, I could really hack it out with a single video.”

“Of course you will,” Jungkook snorts under his breath, his inability to feel embarrassment over being critically profiled by your one (1) wooden step (because he’s just gotten hurt so repeatedly that it’s nothing new for him) being overtaken by his raging ability to feel shy, just because it always has to be you to pick him up.

It can’t be anyone else at this point.

It can’t be your brother, because all Yoongi would do is attempt to fix the step with his stock knowledge (to which there is none), and Jungkook knows he would be in further danger if his friend takes a crack at it. It can’t be your parents either, because your mom is a little too wired to the point that she’d want to replace the whole staircase if she sees a mismatched, temporary fix, and your dad is a little too lax to the point that he’s the type to ask Jungkook what color he tastes as his version of a pain scale.

It has to be you, because although everyone in the house has seen Jungkook at his worst at all his various points of life, you’re yet to lose your faith in him.

It’s not to say that your family has already lost respect for him (not even by a long shot), but Jungkook figures that it can’t be that bad letting you in because amongst everyone, the lowest point you know him by is him just being extremely upset over his girlfriend breaking up with him and that’s it.

While your parents know about him sleeping over in your house meant he fought with his very own and couldn’t stand staying in his room for another second, or how Yoongi knows that Jungkook’s strapped for cash because the latter keeps pacing in their dorm trying to panic-clean as he waits for callbacks from part-time jobs he applied for — the only low that Jungkook lets you see is him being distraught over his first love.

Jungkook doesn’t get idolized that much. He’s not a prized son like how your brother is, and neither is he known in college for being smart. He’s not actually a superlative like how he knows you think of him, and the realization of your crush on him makes Jungkook feel conflicted whether it rains or pours.

He doesn’t like you like that, but that’s never stopped you before.

You know about Sora and how first loves have this intoxicating, vice-like grip on everyone, along with the fact that even glancing at an upset Jungkook makes you upset, but that’s never hindered you before.

He wants to let you down as gently as he could, because the last thing he ever wants to do is make his best friend’s sister develop a complex from being rejected. Jungkook knows he’s handsome (read: he’s attempting to be humble), and kind, and maybe even charming on a good day; above all, he’s realistic.

He doesn’t want you to depend on him— he thinks definitively as you glare at him through the rear-view mirror from the backseat, because you mistakenly assumed that the extra can of coffee in the cup holder was for you instead of Sora whom he was tasked to pick up right after you, and Yoongi had to correct you with a snicker.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to depend on him— he thinks hesitantly as he hears you shriek from the bottom of the staircase.

“Shit! God, that fucking-…” you seethe, attempting to keep yourself stable in all fours right after tripping on Jungkook’s cursed step. It’s never hurt any of you before except him, and now that it finally does, you don’t get how he could’ve kept quiet all this time.

Jungkook rushes down and Yoongi comes after, the latter cussing under his breath as he heads back to his room to retrieve his first-aid kit and (hopefully) patch you up with what he’s learning in pre-med.

“What happened? Don’t tell me you were trying to break in your heels again,” Jungkook chastises you as he gets you to sit upright, the frustrated and pained tears cornering from your eyes immediately making him apologetic with his approach.

“I wasn’t! You sound just like Yoongi,” you spit, keeping in a sniffle with your arms across your chest, looking away to hide your tears because you don’t want Jungkook to see just how badly you’re torn over your ankles and knees burning.

He deflates at that, pinching his nosebridge as he tries to calm himself down with the sound of Yoongi bounding down the stairs with a first-aid kit and his notes like it’s some return-demonstration, except he can actually practice on you.

“I’m sorry. I just thought you were doing something-…” Jungkook apologizes, the word stupid being cut off from his lips, not only because Yoongi’s shooing him away, but because he can’t bring himself to stomach the gaze you have directed at him.

Jungkook does back away, with very little coaxing, as he disappears when Yoongi starts asking you if you’re in pain anywhere else with the most serious, professional voice you’ve ever heard him pull.

While your brother fixes your ankle up at the bottom of the stairs, Jungkook soon appears behind you with your dad’s toolbox and the most unreadable look to his face.

While Yoongi dashes to his room again to look for his camera to take a picture of the work he did on your ankle alone so he can reference it later, Jungkook washes his hands in the kitchen sink before patting a damp, clean towel to your knees.

Jungkook’s not in pre-med, and he doesn’t live in your house either.

What he is, is your brother’s best friend who’s extremely apologetic.

"Thanks. Love you," you mumble out of habit, meaning the words sincerely even if they leave your mouth every time someone does something remotely sweet towards you.

You still mean them nonetheless, and the prospect of repeating your sentiments doesn’t seem so bad when it’s him.

You’re eighteen when you first confess to Jungkook.

"I'm just patching your knee up...?" he trails off in confusion, later laughing when he finally sees the shake of your head that lets him know that you, too, felt embarrassed.

You still mean them regardless, even if you feel like taking them back.

You’re eighteen when Jungkook fixes the step in the staircase of your childhood home, not because it always trips him, but because you did that one time.

( ♡ )

Jungkook has a habit of coming over unannounced.

In between all your parents' insisting that your house is also his for him to run to anytime, to your brother realizing that being friends with Jungkook meant having to see him in unhealthy doses because he has no other choice, Jungkook effectively integrated himself to the quilt of your life.

He's a lived-in, well-loved shirt that's cut up and fashioned into a granny square, along with a hundred other versions of him that you've had the privilege of seeing; it's actually ironic because Jungkook's left a lot of his items, of himself, both in your childhood house and your shared apartment with your brother, and he's never batted an eye once about their whereabouts.

Jungkook doesn't question why your parents posted a picture of your old beloved dog wearing a shirt of his from elementary to Facebook, but he does save the picture immediately and make it his wallpaper.

He doesn't question either why Yoongi's cap collection is growing and why he keeps insisting that he bought it himself (even if Jungkook can still place the faint smell of his shampoo on it), but he does make sure every now and then to actually gift him one in exchange for the uncountable favors your brother's done for him.

Most importantly, Jungkook doesn't question you either when he sees his hairtie on your wrist when you open the door for him.

He knows not to bring up anything about your crush over him (not unless it's you starting the conversation about Your Feelings For Him, which practically happens only once a year), or how he really hates it when his hairties go missing. Even Yoongi isn't spared from his annoyance, because in Jungkook's defense, your brother's too rich to go steal from the godsend, usually-expensive ten-pack that he managed to buy on sale.

Jungkook doesn't point out the red elastic on your wrist. He ignores the starry-gazed look you only have for him, except now, your eyes are only narrowed and hollow over his sudden appearance.

That's the only thing he can't shake off.

"Is your brother home?" he asks his original intention for his visit, shifting his weight from one foot to another because of the lackluster, blank gaze you have on that keeps piercing him. "You okay?"

"Won't be home for another hour."

Jungkook laughs at your curt reply, eyes widening in sarcasm as he shakes his head, the snort that leaves him catching him off-guard too. He can’t place why he’s annoyed over the possibility of you being any less than delighted to see him, and truly, he’s trying not to sound like a narcissist; he’s only ever really cared about his image when you were concerned.

"That was a lot of attitude."

You and Jungkook don't really fight. You don't fight with each other because there's barely anything that you disagree about, but when you do fight with him (not if), it's unlike any of the fights you have with Yoongi.

You don't fight with Jungkook as if he's your brother, because he's not.

You don't fight with him either as if he's only your brother's friend, because you don't want him to be.

With Jungkook, there's guilt that settles in your bones when you don't reconcile before you go to sleep. There's an unspeakable force that actually makes you doubt yourself, when usually, you'd know to your gut that you were in the right every single time you fought with Yoongi.

With Jungkook, you don't get an unspoken promise that you'll just forget about whatever happened.

It's him, after all.

"Hey, woah. What's wrong with you?" Jungkook reacts with a frown when you refuse to grace him with a reply, following you into the apartment with a firm grasp on your forearm.

It's not the first time you've ever turned your back on because you didn't want to talk, and it's not the first time either that he's had to physically chase after you. Jungkook's been through this before: he's been through it as the occasional referee between you and Yoongi on your heated fights growing up. He knows how quickly you could shut yourself off, but he didn't know it would feel this weird being at the receiving end of it.

He didn't know it would feel this jarring.

"Nothing. Let me go," you mutter, jerking your arm away from him that only makes Jungkook huff.

He's supposed to be understanding, that much he knows. He's supposed to be the older, mature one between you both, but there's just something about you being short with him that makes Jungkook feel rewired, for better and for worse.

"So something is wrong with you," he insists, rolling his eyes when he follows you even into the kitchen, the two of you knowing well that you're just passively opening the fridge (and a hundred other cupboards) so you could lose him.

"Can you leave me alone?"

"You opened the door for me, sweetheart," Jungkook sarcastically hums, the smile on his face even more insufferable than your furrowed brows that have not loosened even once since seeing him.

"Because you're clearly here for Yoongi," you remind, the edge of your voice slamming harder than the last drawer against its base. Jungkook would wince about it if only he hadn’t spent the better part of your entire interaction loathing the way you talk to him, making his ears ring.

"Can't I be here for you too?" he offers, the sincerity coming across as half-baked pity into your system.

Jungkook didn't even look sure with his own question.

The roll of your eyes makes Jungkook even more annoyed, his irritation bordering on anger that he can't even place. He didn't even get this worked up over his fights with your brother, and the two of them have even went so close as to getting physical multiple times.

"What was that for?"

"You're clearly lying," you mutter, settling for folding your clothes angrily right in front of him. You’re not even fazed that you’re just three sleep shirts away from folding your own underwear in front of him because it’s the least of your concerns.

Now, the only thing you can think about is how Jungkook’s beyond clueless. For all you know, he doesn’t even care about why you’re acting the way you were because simply (and realistically, in your case) put, Jungkook just wants you to remain the same. He just wants you to remain as the mainstay, familiar figure everywhere he goes who makes him feel better just by giving him a default, love-sick glance and nothing less.

You’re not a dog waiting around for him by the front door.

You think you’re more of a mutt waiting to be seen at the porch when nobody else inside wants to do his tricks.

"What are we even talking about right now?" Jungkook nudges the laundry basket away with his foot, the scowl you give him making him shrink momentarily. "You're the one who's starting something and I literally just got here."

"I'm not starting anything."

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong, huh?"

The simple and seemingly mundane question makes you dart up, unceremoniously dropping the same shirt you’ve been pretending to fold in the neatest, tightest rectangle as possible.

You should be relieved at the prompt because it meant you didn’t have to bring it up out of nowhere. You should be happy at the cue because whatever you’ll answer, it would mean that Jungkook asked for it.

You should be anything but the way you’re feeling now with the words scratching your throat from the inside, because with your feelings out in the open (even more than what you’ve already given time and time again), you feel even more tense.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sora were back together?"

Jungkook expected everything but the simple, one-dimension question. He didn’t anticipate for you to ask something that he could give you an answer to but refuse to. He just sits beside you, eerily still with the dumbest look on his face that keeps pleading you to just drop this even if you barely even started, his wide eyes blinking with confusion.

"I didn't-..." he clears his throat, looking down on his lap briefly because looking at you the whole time, as he composes his words, would mean his defeat. He didn’t know exactly why or how he’d be losing by looking at you directly as he professes the truth, but all he knows for sure is that however he does it, you’d never be the winner. “I didn't think I had to tell you, Y/N," he laughs uneasily. "I know you're not exactly the biggest fan of her."

"Neither is Yoongi, but he still got to know," you chuckle dryly, the shrug of your shoulder being far too lax that it convinces neither of you that you were really okay with it.

"Because he's my best friend," Jungkook exasperates, the tired sigh that leaves his lips making you buckle by the knees despite being seated.

You never wanted to disappoint him. You never wanted to be looked down upon, most especially by Jungkook, because every little detail adds up into your head like an overtired piggy bank you don’t ever want to let go of, even if keeping it close to you means it would lose its value.

You’re keeping score, even if Jungkook never did. You’re more wired than he’ll ever be, and just the slightest slip of his attitude (even the tiniest upset sigh from his lips or a clench of his jaw) makes it known to you that he wouldn’t understand how it feels to be pathetically reliant over the slightest chance at love.

"Am I not?" you snap. "Will I just be Yoongi's little sister to you forever?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that's not what I meant," he spits defensively, brows knitting in genuine disdain because he can’t even think how a vile thought has ever crossed your mind.

"Then finish the sentence, Jungkook," you goad. “If I'm not your best friend, and if I'm not your best friend's sister either, what exactly am I?"

Jungkook sharply sucks in a breath, screwing his eyes shut as you mess with every last bit of his inhibition. He never liked fighting with you, and whenever you actually did, he’d be ridden with guilt even before said fight is concluded. He doesn’t like hurting you that way because Jungkook knows, truly, that he’d be more capable of inflicting it on you than you ever could for him.

Or so he thinks.

He knows he does it every time (even if he shoves the fact deep to the back of his memory) that he comes around. He knows he does every time he gives you either a carefree laugh or a sorry hand on the small of your back every time you confess.

He even knows he’s hurting you now.

"I didn't tell you because I know you would disapprove."

"When has that ever stopped you?" you scoff, the soft, lived-in quality of the hairtie on your person suddenly making your wrist itch. ”If I never saw her story, that's just it then? If I never asked Yoongi, you wouldn't tell me?"

"Why's it such a big deal?" Jungkook throws his head back in disbelief, briefly recalling the way he looked happy, content, in the picture Sora shared from last night. “Why does it matter so badly to you whether I get back with Sora or not?"

"Because you matter badly to me!" you exclaim, digging your nails into the palms of your hands to stop them from flailing and finding their way to Jungkook’s arms to hold him still, not because he’s thinking about leaving, but because you don’t want to leave and you want to be reminded of it. ”Are we not best friends, Jungkook? A-are we— are we just people who see each other practically everyday?" you swallow the lump in your throat. “When I see you, I tell you about how my day went. I tell you about what I'm thinking. I... I've never withheld anything from you.”

There was never a time you’ve hidden anything from Jungkook. He’d been the witness of everything, both significant and pointless, in your life. He’s your best friend. He’s your Jungkook, whether or not in the way you want him to be.

The only thing is that Jungkook can’t say the same for you.

"That's you, then," he rasps thickly, exhaling with his teeth grinding together from how tight his jaw is clenching. "Do you see me snooping about who you're with? Do you see me hounding you about your boyfriends and-..."

"I don't tell you shit because I don't have any of that," you interrupt. “What I only have is you and you know that!”

You’re barely getting into the thick of it when the front door opens and your brother appears like a lifeline for Jungkook and the complete opposite of it for you, the stupid, hopeful smile on his face with the accompanying words of "I bought chicken!" making everything in your chest seem forgotten.

You're twenty-two when Jungkook tells you that not only does he still not see you as a woman he’s in love with, but he also doesn’t see you as his best friend. You’re twenty-two when you throw a tantrum in the middle of dinner, ripping off Jungkook’s hairtie from your wrist and tossing it in the trash, right after he cuts up your favorite boneless chicken for you in front of your brother.

Back then, you were nineteen when Jungkook gave you the first slice of his birthday cake, even if you spent a month saving up for the expensive, heavy-duty hard drive for his gift and even longer writing up the letter that was saved as the only document in the device, only for him to spend less than five minutes to scan your letter and move on with cutting the cake that’s not even in the flavor that you liked.

You were twenty when Jungkook replaced your flat tire for you because you didn’t want to anger Yoongi who only warmed up to lend you his new car after incessant begging for three months. You were twenty when you held up the umbrella so the rain wouldn’t soak him and get into his eyes while he saved your life, the words “thank you, love you” slipping out of you from habit, only for Jungkook to loosen his hold on the wrench for the briefest second before resuming.

You were twenty-one when he gave you his shirt to wear after coming home drunk to your shared apartment with Yoongi, because surely, your brother seeing you in his best friend’s clothing would be far less concerning than seeing you practically blackout wasted. You were only twenty-one when you wore his shirt backwards and inside-out (because Jungkook refused to even look in your direction at the time), clutching to him tightly while letting it slip: “It should be me, not Sora,” you muttered, while Jungkook only tucked you into the couch and answered Sora on the phone, telling her that she has to babysit you for the night.

The only thing you have is Jungkook and he insists that he doesn’t know it.

He insists that the both of you are neither lovers or friends, but instead, something less and far worse.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook tells you that he doesn’t get why he and Sora and the state of their relationship matter so greatly to you, and you’re also only twenty-two when you first block Jungkook’s number for just a few hours so he wouldn’t bother you when he’s on his way home.

You’re twenty-two when you realize that Jungkook didn’t even leave you a message in the first place.

( ♡ )

Little by little, everything’s looking up for your family.

For starters, your mom’s no longer accidentally misusing emojis and abbreviations whenever she texts in the family group chat. You don’t have to be choking over air when she texts KYS after you tell her that you had a bad day (she thinks it means Keep Your Smile), and Yoongi doesn’t have to wince when she sends a tombstone emoji after telling her that he had a difficult time with one of his patients (she thinks it’s a gray cathedral window, and it’s her way of telling him to look outside and take a breather).

Your dad’s also looking into being more of a handyman in the house, now that they’re practically empty nesters most weeks of the month and Jungkook fixing your step that one (1) time sparked something in him.

Yoongi’s even happier doing his residency, enough for him to not collapse face-down on your coach and talk to you through muffled yelling about who should order what.

Everyone who’s most important to you have things looking up for them and oddly enough, contrary to your own belief, it gives you a little hope. You don’t feel bitter seeing life treat them a little lighter (even if it’s still less than what they deserve) even if you think you’re the only one who’s not moving forward.

You never harbored any deep resentment for Yoongi being the smarter child. He’s the one who’s even more volatile between the two of you whenever someone even just so attempt to point out how you were falling short to him by just being fine. You weren’t incredible by any means, and you didn’t want to start being excellent now when everyone’s already complacent with the way you are.

It’s either you’re seen or you’re not, there’s no in-between. You’re either Yoongi’s pretty sister whom nobody knows what degree she’s even taking, or you’re nobody at all.

You’re either a best friend or something far less significant. You’re either a mainstay cast member who got to be that in the first place by repeating the same overtired lines on the same skit that had been relevant once and recycled ever since, or you’re a fleeting extra who worked her whole life only to be recognized by something downright insignificant and even insulting.

You’re either Yoongi’s little sister that gets to hang around with Jungkook, or you’re someone who’s known Jungkook for a long time and just happen to love him ever since — whatever it is, you wouldn’t be recognized the way you want to be.

You’re yet to maximize the freedom of your youth and the sheer realization that you don’t plan on being as booked and busy as your brother, but by whatever cosmic power and due diligence of being the youngest child, you opt out of partying with your friends from university to instead get groceries with Yoongi and Jungkook.

You willingly choose to do the mundane, not because you already know you’re mundane, but because you realize that the sooner you practice yourself going through the motions of life beyond what’s serving as your unparalleled distraction, the sooner you’ll accept that you’re not destined for greatness.

You know you’re not destined for greatness, but you know that you’re destined for something that’s a little better (even if you don’t know what) when you don’t check your phone and are fully enthralled just walking past the new products in the toiletry aisle.

You know you’re not destined for excellence, but you know that you’re destined for something that’s slightly brighter than the life you’re already living when you don’t ask Yoongi impatiently if he must really smell every fruit that he puts into the cart.

You know you’re not destined for anything remotely important, but you believe with everything in you that it’s not entirely wrong for you to be hopeful that you might be, when you come out of the grocery store, about fifty reusable bags in hand, just to see white pouring.

"It's the first snow," you gasp in surprise, the awe in your gaze able to be spotted from a mile away, but Jungkook wouldn’t know the distance because he’s already far too close to you now, a giddy laugh automatically rolling from his lips.

"I know.”

"You know what they say about that, right?" you giggle, your expectant gaze turning to him without any malice; just pure, unbridled hope like the past years and the past winters haven’t hurt either of you.

"I do," he affirms, laughing as he readjusts the other fifty reusable bags filled with all the groceries Yoongi’s gotten on a whim as the both of you wait for him to go around with the car.

You’re not meant for greatness, but Jungkook equates to it, and you’ve never wanted to strive to be something you’re not so badly in your life.

"Jungkook?" you ask softly, head tilting in deep thought as you paid no attention to the snowflakes grazing your cheeks and onto the ground, gaze only focused wholly on him and nothing else.

"Yeah?" he hums. Jungkook’s lips part at the way you look at him; like he’s some higher power on an altar that has forsaken you over and over again by not making his existence known when you need him the most, yet you’re a devotee who’s never lost faith, not even once, because you confuse your pain for hope. "I know, sweetheart. I know what you mean."

You stay silent at that, even when Yoongi arrives conveniently and takes the load out of your arms and gets you your favorite coffee and gives you the liberty to pick the music for the drive back home.

You stay silent in thought of the first snow and the first and only Jungkook in your life, but only until your brother interrupts your thoughts.

Jungkook’s been the only one to occupy your existence on every first snow you’ve seen and committed to heart, but along with that, he’s also every other natural calamity.

He’s every other freak occurrence, and he’s every other reminder that seasons never stay no matter how slowly you flip the calendar and realize all the other pages you tore out in the hope that it’ll be the piece wherein you get to cross out and marks as his and yours day alone.

"Hey, you mind if Jungkook and his girlfriend crash on the couch outside?" Yoongi asks, lingering by your doorframe as he tries not to grimace at the sight of all your sweatshirts piled at what’s supposed to be the chair to your study desk. “Sora's car battery died and all the shops are closed for the night."

“Oh,” you whisper. You didn’t know that the last time you’ve ever uttered Sora’s name willingly, which was just a year ago, would only be one of the several firsts of the many times that she and Jungkook would find their way back to each other. “They're back together. Again.”

Yoongi sighs, not in disappointment (he never would), but in understanding. “It's okay if you don't want them to. I can just make up an excuse."

You can see the exhaustion wearing down on your brother from medical school and somehow juggling you and everything in between. You can see the eldest child who’s meant for greatness and has just finished doing his grocery shopping and doesn’t have any time to referee any complaints you may have for your impending visitors.

You only see him and the tiredness that you deem is warranted for someone as great as him, and not the exhaustion you’ve accumulated for being anything less.

"It's okay. This is your place anyway."

"You pay half the rent too."

"But he's your friend,” you reason weakly, sitting by the edge of your bed as you’re no longer interested in resting at its very comfort.

"You're the one who loves him,” Yoongi mutters lowly (but loud and clear for you to hear), making you roll your eyes at the reminder.

It’s the first time he’s ever spoken of it to you, but neither of you flinch at the fact. He’s brought it up randomly on the first snow of the year but you don’t have it in you to address the raging fluctuations of what comes with loving Jungkook unrequitedly.

"He and Sora can sleep over. Just don't give them my room," you concede, sighing as you stand up with a newfound will, albeit concerning.

"What? Where will you sleep then?" he furrows his brows, eyes following you around your room as you fish out a backpack and just start throwing things in haphazardly.

"I'll just sleep over at a friend's. I.. I don't want to be here when they are," you answer briefly, the dimness in your gaze enough to make Yoongi back off.

It’s enough to make your brother let you go scot-free, but never enough to make Jungkook understand.

He’s perplexed, knocking at your door for minutes on end until he decides to open it slowly, only to see that you weren't there to begin with. Jungkook’s not even perplexed, probably, because perplexed would mean that he’d harbor some degree of amusement and he isn’t feeling that in the slightest — all he’s feeling is just pure, overflowing panic.

While Sora is in the bathroom, Jungkook practically crashes his entire weight as he opens Yoongi's door, even if he knows that the poor guy must be either studying or sleeping already.

"Yoongi. Yoongi wake up. Yoongi," he hisses, chest caving in as he shakes your brother awake. “Y/N’s missing. She's not in her room. We need to find her."

"The fuck?" Yoongi could only sleepily whisper, groggily rubbing his eyes. "She's at a friend's."

"Why?" Jungkook almost spits in confusion, eyes narrowed at the possible thought process.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, collapsing back into his pillow after having his shoulders basically rearranged by Jungkook’s sheer panic alone. "Beats me."

"Do you know this friend?"

"Relax. She's twenty-three."

"Do you know this friend?" Jungkook repeats, each word becoming more enunciated than the last. He’s getting angry by the sound of it (if Yoongi could pick it up correctly), the apparent ‘carelessness’ of your own family member irking him.

"I don't know. She doesn't like being hogged so I didn't ask," he groans. “Taehyung, probably? He lives nearby."

"What?" Jungkook grits, his hand almost collaring Yoongi’s shirt if not for his fist closing in on itself to remind himself that Yoongi’s the only way for him to get answers. “Your sister is sleeping over at a guy's house? By herself? Are you insane? Why would you let her?!"

"They're friends...?" Yoongi offers slowly but surely, his tone taking on the most obvious route to Jungkook’s otherwise unbelieving state. "God, Jungkook, can you let me sleep? I really don't want to talk about my sister's sex life with you right now."

"So she's having sex with her friend?!" Jungkook practically whisper-yells to his ear, the tremble to his breathing making Yoongi shake for the briefest second.

"What? No! No— I don't know...? Fuck! Just shut up and turn off the lights again. I have an early day tomorrow."

You’re twenty-three when Jungkook sends you a lengthy text about how it’s beyond disappointing that you’re being irresponsible, followed by the multiple, desperate messages for you to text him your location so he could pick you up so you could be safe at home.

You’re twenty-three when Jungkook loses sleep over you, despite Sora sleeping beside him in the living room of your shared apartment with your brother, his red, swollen, and fatigued eyes only settled on your contact photo that he took of you in his phone.

You’re twenty-three when you admit to Jungkook in your own way, once again, that you love him, and you’re also twenty-three when he lets you down in the best way he knows how.

You’re twenty-three when you spend the night of the first snow at a friend’s house to escape the existence of Jungkook and Sora in your very own home, along with the ghost of the weight that comes with settling for never knowing him at all so you wouldn’t be hurt like this — only to come back the next morning, seeing him holding his girlfriend in his arms.

( ♡ )

You were twenty-four when Jungkook gifted you a gold bracelet.

Normally, Jungkook wouldn’t even think twice about jewelry because for as long as he wore it, all he needed to make sure was that it didn’t turn his skin green and smell weird after being splashed under hard water (which is practically all of the running water in his place) for two seconds.

Granted that it was your graduation and just like every other overeager loved one, Jungkook was assumed (by your parents and Yoongi and every friend you’ve had in university that has an inkling about your dynamic), wrongly, to just buy a name-brand item and call it a day after writing a sincere letter for you.

You know he’s not well-off. You know that he rarely ever splurges on himself and so you didn’t expect for him to go out of his way to get you something. Unlike you, Jungkook isn’t big on giving gifts, and although that’s never been a problem for you before, it always has been to him.

He doesn’t exactly feel patronized when Yoongi gives him his “neglected things” that just turn out to be the brand-new, expensive items Jungkook only ever looked up fondly and as a pipe dream (he swears he’s seen this scene before in Bride Wars); it’s more of a haunting, raring feeling in him to get even and give something that’s more than his service.

Jungkook may tend to your mom’s garden with his green thumb and teach your dad how to use power tools without crying and even cook meals for Yoongi when he’s too tired to even lift his head up, but he didn’t just want to only be of service to you. There’s no amount of him driving you around and parallel parking in the most difficult spots, or even just being the constant figure in your living room that hums (and makes you feel less insane and alone) as you talk to yourself about your exam reviewers for a course that you’re barely passing could ever be enough.

Jungkook wanted to get you something real. Something tangible that you couldn’t only think back on like a distant, foggy memory every three years when a random thought crosses your mind about his good nature.

You were twenty-four when Jungkook gifted you a solid gold (none of that hollowed-out shit; read: ditching the aforementioned meant another solid two weeks of extreme budgeting) bracelet and a heartfelt letter on your graduation.

You were twenty-four when he dressed up in his best polo and gave you his gift with nothing but nervousness for you to actually love it, and you were only twenty-four when you hugged him the tightest that you’ve ever did, kissing his cheek in pure excitement.

You were only twenty-four too, when you realize that Jungkook’s a friend who perhaps really just wanted to give you something memorable and expensive on your special day and nothing more; because if he was more and he wanted to be more, then he would’ve stuck around for the afterparty.

If he wanted to be more and not any less than what you already were, then he wouldn’t have excused himself when you bounded towards him with the bracelet on your wrist and too much of your courage waiting at the back of your throat.

If Jungkook wanted to be more, then he would’ve let his lips graze your cheek for a millisecond longer right after you look up at him: “Thank you, love you.”

If he wanted to be more with you by loving you back, then Jungkook would’ve let his hand linger on your back for just another second more with more firmness instead of gentleness, because you’ve had enough of the latter; he wouldn’t have left, and he wouldn’t have reminded you of your place either: “Don’t make bad decisions tonight.”

You were twenty-four when you started to be resigned with Jungkook, yet you don’t know at what age would you grow to be sick of him.

You can’t tell when you’re going to move past his rejections due to the maturity you’ve always thought you harbored, enough to be the driving force to just settle for however you can keep Jungkook in your life and not ruin the friendship.

You can’t tell when you’re supposed to stop growing and stop being level-headed about your yearly confessions that in the long run, have never hurt Jungkook.

You don’t know if you’re ever going to yearn to be volatile and unforgiving; you don’t know when the weight of Jungkook telling you over and over again that he doesn’t see you that way will finally settle in your bones, permanently, instead of coming and going like a holiday that you grew to both anticipate and dread.

Jungkook’s not a shifty, aloof distant relative that you only get to see once or twice in a decade when an old relative from your extended family dies.

He’s not an overly proud alumnus you see in campus grounds every two weeks chatting up professors who are tired of seeing him.

He’s not anything specific in your life besides definitively being your brother’s best friend and your own, but only from a distance. You and Jungkook were close enough to hang out without Yoongi present, but the availability of the other was something you weren’t even eagerly seeking anymore just like the old times.

It’s you who’s adding to the space that Jungkook established himself, and you thought for the longest time that you’re fine with it; that for as long as you don’t get too emotional (read: resentful) seeing the gold bracelet on your wrist, then that would mean you and him are at the perfect distance away from each other until your inevitable, yearly confession happens.

Jungkook, too, thought that he’d been okay with the added space (or whatever it meant) despite seeing you almost every two days at this point, because he thought that you being less attached would make it balanced.

You know to yourself utterly and completely that knowing Jungkook more doesn’t lead to loving him less; it’s only what you hope to happen otherwise.

It’s what he also pleads to himself when he sees you tonight, sitting at the chairs by the parking lot of the hospital.

“Y/N?” he immediately asks out loud, barely shifting the gear to park when he walks (read: runs) to you with a gasp, eyes wide and concerned. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” you return the question, unable to process why out of all the times, it just had to be now when you see Jungkook unplanned; it couldn’t have been at the subway yesterday or even at the convenience store this morning.

Out of all the times that he’d see you accidentally (heaven knows the two of you see each other far too much), it just had to be when you were clutching your abdomen, writhing and sweating in pain.

“I borrowed Yoongi’s car so I took it to the carwash and-…” Jungkook trails off for a preliminary answer, shaking his head to physically reboot himself. “Sorry, I really can’t care about Yoongi’s car right now. What the hell are you doing here?” he repeats, running his palm over your sweaty forehead that’s simultaneously warm and freezing, the lack of any ease in your face making him panic.

“It’s n— fuck, that hurts,” you seethe, growing breathless as your eyelids fall heavy.

“Y/N, hey, hey. What’s happening? Where does it hurt?” Jungkook asks firmly this time, worry etching on to his face as his hands unconsciously tremble as he tries to survey you the best he could yet he can’t even think straight with your whole body contorted in pain.

You gasp at a particularly sharp burning sensation, pointing to the right of your abdomen with your index finger barely even outstretched in pain.

Jungkook screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back as he paces in tiny circles, holding your clammy hand as he tries to not faint on the spot. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Holy fuck I don’t know what that’s called b-but you’re in pain and— a-and how did you even get here? Did you drive?”

The nod you give him makes him even more lightheaded.

“Why the fuck would you drive here? Are you insane? Y-you should’ve called me!”

“Kook, now’s not the-…” you wince, the pained gasp that leaves your eyes rolling to the back of your head being the last straw for Jungkook before carrying you bridal style into the emergency room, that realistically was just a few steps away from you, but more-on felt like a thousand yards.

The pain felt like torture for you, and seeing your pain felt like a living, breathing, writhing version of hell for Jungkook as he tried to get everything under control.

He trembled while filling out your information and waiting outside of the surgery ward. He shook when he called Yoongi to go downstairs and informed him about what happened.

Jungkook was nothing short of miserable waiting for you to be okay, but nobody told him that it wouldn’t get any better once he finally sees you awake.

He doesn’t believe you even when you’re up and are raring to go home. He doesn’t crack a smile when you tell him that you’re okay and he was just being dramatic.

He doesn’t let up the slightest bit when you try and be back to how you normally are with him, when just hours ago, Jungkook prayed to a god he only partially believed in and even offered himself to just for the betterment of your condition.

You swear up and down that you’re okay, but it’s not enough for him.

“Are you that upset seeing me in a hospital bed?” you mutter, the roll of your eyes only making you dizzy for a split second instead of a full minute this time.

“Think about it, genius,” Jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms on his chest but not before pushing your vegetables closer to you on your plate, gathering the leftovers of your pudding from the edge of your cup with a spoon.

“I’m not going to apologize,” you mutter, looking away from him and your tray and instead on a poorly-dubbed children’s show on the TV, just to shield yourself from the confrontation that you weren’t looking for.

The thing about Jungkook is that he didn’t pick a time or a place to get into anything with you, whether good or bad.

The thing is, Jungkook’s goodness and concern for you have never not went hand-in-hand with his overbearingness that friends shouldn’t have in the first place.

“Good. You shouldn’t,” he stubbornly punctuates.

“Then why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself,” he groans, sneaking a glance at his watch which reminds him that he had paged a nurse ten minutes ago and that he needs to follow up. “What did I do to make you think that you can’t call me when there’s an emergency? Do you know how dangerous it was for you to drive at that state?”

Jungkook’s voice wavers at the question, not expecting you to answer with the way your jaw’s clenched and you’re still refusing to look at him.

“I-I get it. I’m trying to get it. Your parents aren’t in the city and you didn’t want them to fly out this late, I get it. Yoongi’s busy being a resident a-and you didn’t want to worry him, I get it a little bit,” Jungkook sniffles. “But you not calling me when you’re in pain? When you need someone to drive you to the ER? When you just need someone to be there with you, no questions asked?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t get it, Y/N. I don’t get it at all.”

“You really don’t get it,” you concede, gaze flitting over to him. Jungkook’s sat on an uncomfortable chair with his legs spread, still dressed in last night’s clothes and torment, the furrow in his brows inerasable. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Jungkook tolerates your mouth. He tolerates a lot of your words and sentiments and occasional callousness when you were emotional despite being mature, but this just cuts it.

He doesn’t tolerate you now.

“How will you ever be a burden? You were having an emergency and the first thing in your mind is that you don’t want to inconvenience me?” he spits. “It’s not like it’s traffic, o-or you eating my takeouts, Y/N. It’s you being in danger, don’t you get that? That’s not an inconvenience!” he laughs without any amusement. “If you still think it is no matter what I say, then you should’ve inconvenienced me. You should’ve bothered me. You should’ve known that I would’ve went out of my way just for you to consider inconveniencing me.”

“Well I don’t want to, okay? I don’t want to bother you, Jungkook!”

“What the hell do I have going on in my life that’s enough for me to not come to you when you need me?”

“You have everything going on!” you exclaim, throwing your head back on your pillow, inadvertently making yourself wince and make Jungkook apologetic. “Y-you have a job, you have Sora, you have-…”

“Wrong,” he tuts, sighing heavily as he adjusts your head on the pillow, grabbing one of his own from his chair to secure you from the sides. “I can have nothing or everything and I’ll still come to you.”

You purse your lips, ignoring the way his touch is more firm than it is gentle.

“You don’t have to come to me if you’re already with me,” you confess in your own words, the sigh that leaves you taking everything not to round up to a pitiful, watery smile that sums up your anticipated rejection.

“Sweetheart,” Jungkook answers simply, in his own way.

You’re twenty-five when you feel yourself surrender little by little.

"Okay," you roll your eyes, the snort that erupts from you making his brows raise in curiosity.

"Okay?" he echoes. "You're okay with it?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know— I-... I mean I know this isn't the first time you confessed and this isn't my first time either turning you down, but-..." Jungkook trails uneasily, shaking his head softly as he tries to regain his bearings. ”…I don't know either why I asked if you're okay."

“My appendix did get removed a few hours ago, so that’s why,” you smile playfully, going back to your meal like nothing had happened.

Like Jungkook hadn’t lost his mind hours ago, and like you hadn’t confessed just minutes ago while you were laying in your hospital bed.

You’re twenty-five when you let yourself feel the hurt.

( ♡ )

It only occurs to you when you’re twenty-six, that Jungkook’s seen all your hardships, whereas the only suffering that you had to see him endure was the price of having Sora as his first love.

Every other difficulty and every other misstep Jungkook’s had in his life are only either retold to you or assumed by your conscience. Besides his turbulent on and off relationship with the only girlfriend he’s ever had, everything that wasn’t the good and the easy about him wasn’t known to you.

It’s as if despite having the privilege to grow alongside you, Jungkook deliberately went out of his way to ensure that you never see him vulnerable if it wasn’t for love. You realize at your age belatedly that you’ve lived this long and have never seen him feel so deeply for anything that wasn’t the matters of his heart.

You only know the big chunks and the bits and pieces of your closest friend’s childhood, but never to the extent that your brother knew him. You’ve questioned the lacking details about him over and over again, but in hindsight, you realize that you didn’t ask enough.

You never asked for any clarification as stubbornly as they expected you to, not because you were coincidentally proving Jungkook right that you were better off not knowing the seemingly unimportant details of his life, but because you were already content with what he gave you.

You took what Jungkook could only give you, but he can’t say the same now.

You’re twenty-six when you hear from Yoongi that Jungkook and Sora have broken up, for good this time, because she cheated on him and it had become his last straw.

You’re twenty-six when Jungkook learns that he only knows the hardships of your life and barely ever its triumphs (whatever the hell that meant in your book and not his), because when he sees you making out with Taehyung in your old childhood bedroom while your brother’s in the middle of throwing a party downstairs, he realizes that everything seemingly favorable in your life was only retold to him.

He should be relieved (right?) to see you at home instead of finding out through Yoongi that you were sleeping over at a friend’s he didn’t know, but none of the solace ever comes to his system. It doesn’t help that the guy who scrambles off you if the same guy that you had ran to all those years ago (Jungkook only knows after keeping tabs on Taehyung for literal years, it seems like).

It doesn’t help that you’re more angry at him than you are embarrassed of the entire situation.

"Do your parents know?"

"Know what?" you scrunch your nose, entirely lost to what Jungkook’s trying to get at.

"What you're doing," he details with narrowed eyes. “Who you're doing."

"What the fuck?" you spit with vitriol, in genuine disbelief whereas Jungkook remains stoic from where he stood. ”I’m twenty-six. I have my own place now. What are you talking about?"

Jungkook shakes his head at the reminder that you’ve moved out weeks ago from your shared apartment with Yoongi and he only got to know when he crashed at your (former) place after a particularly rough day, only to be genuinely confused at the sight of Just Yoongi At The Door, your own brother perplexed that Jungkook didn’t even know you moved out by then.

“I’m talking about how you're acting out like a teenager, getting it on with-..."

"Acting out?" you parrot.

"Yeah, that's what I said,” he grits, the sarcastic laugh that leaves his lips making your ears ring.

"What would I be acting out against? I'm not some teenager rebelling against curfew or-..."

"I thought you liked me, Y/N,” Jungkook enunciates word for word, making you stop dead in your tracks.

You weren’t planning on confessing tonight.

You weren’t even thinking of digging up your unresolved feelings for Jungkook because you didn’t want to be the bigger person about it; for once, you wanted to be the more vulnerable and volatile friend between the two of you.

"What kind of person keeps confessing to her brother's best friend every single year, yet still make out with another best friend of her brother's as if nothing she said was true?"

The ache that your chest molds around is far too big of a statue, concrete and rooted in its desire to let the pain seep into you.

"But you don't like me, Jungkook. That's the thing.”

"And you think that changes everything?" he asks, voice cracking at the edges. “What if— w-what if I lied awhile ago, huh? What if I-... what if I lied about not liking you, yet you're still out here letting Taehyung put hickeys on you? What then?"

You screw your eyes shut in utter disbelief of the possibilities that Jungkook springs onto you out of nowhere, tears pricking painfully.

“But did you lie?"

"That's not what I'm-..."

"Did you or did you not lie, Jungkook? That's what I'm asking first," you interrupt, fists balled in utter despair because if you don’t do something, anything to ground you, then you’d faint right in front of him and nurse the hurt like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

"I didn't," Jungkook whispers, eyes steeling as he regains his composure. "B-but that still doesn’t-…”

"No. It changes everything," you swallow the lump in your throat. “I can have this stupid, teenage crush on you and still be hurt. I can be stupid by ignoring all your past rejections and still get tired," you waver. “I can look stupid liking you from afar, only for you to reject me year after year, and still do whatever that I want to do with Taehyung.”

"If I lied and told you that I liked you back, and we become this... w-we become this fantasy of yours that you never let go of," Jungkook argues, exhaling heavily. "What then, Y/N? If you could do this now, what else are you capable of doing if we end up together?" he gnaws on his bottom lip. ”What can you tell me that would make me trust that I can be your boyfriend without you doing whatever the hell you want?"

"You're asking me that?" you whisper in disbelief, vision spinning on the weight that Jungkook demands from you. “You're asking me to convince you that I won't cheat on you, even if you told me again and again that you'd never want to be with me?"

“Yoongi told you, didn’t he?” Jungkook replies, meeting your eyes but not where you stood, the stubbornness in his gaze making you bow your head in surrender.

"My god, Jungkook. You're fucking insane.”

He buckles by the knees at that, pointing to himself weakly as his eyes widen. "I am? I'm the one who's-...?" he pauses, jaw clenching angrily. ”I’m the one who's confused, Y/N. I'm the one who can't tell how I'd stand in your life if I give in-..."

Give in, like it's pity.

Give in, like it's charity for the needy and returning your feelings would be the one final thing that cements Jungkook’s goodness.

Give in, like you didn’t spend the better part of your life pining after him without any promise because you weren’t afraid to be seen trying; you weren’t afraid to be in love with him.

"Then I won't confuse you anymore! I'll make it easy for the both of us," you burst, pushing past him in your fit of anger. “You don't have to think about being cheated on. You don't— y-you don't have to think about the image of me making out with Taehyung behind your back while you're.. y-you're fucking conjuring this life with me in the future when you don't even want to be with me now."

Give in, like you were never the one for him in the first place.

"I'll stop,” you whisper.

"I didn't tell you to,” Jungkook grits, shaking his head in disbelief as his eyes track your direction towards the door.

"I don't need you to."

( ♡ )

You dream of getting over Jungkook on a random day.

The concept of it comes to you randomly after countless nights of losing sleep over your big fight with Jungkook that had instilled a rift in your friendship for months. You haven’t gotten over him (specifically on a random day that you so badly craved to prove that unlearning the ways of being attentive to him can happen in an as insignificant of a day as Wednesday), but you atleast attained your silent plea of being the one who’s more vulnerable.

Of being the one who’s pined after, not necessarily because Jungkook was completely in the wrong and there’s no basis for his fears, but because you wanted to know what it felt like being yearned for.

You didn’t have to be brave for the two of you because you were no longer grasping at straws to keep Jungkook whenever and however you can.

The only reason you dream of getting over Jungkook on a random day was because you want the feeling of the love you have for him to leave you when you're folding your clothes and you can ignore the fact that his shirts keep washing up into your basket despite not having stepped foot in your new place.

You want to get over him on a random day when you feel unsure of it the most, because only then would you prove to yourself that something as real and as tangible as your yearning is just as fundamental as learning to live without him in your life.

You want to get over Jungkook on a random day, even when you don’t want to, because the only way out for you is through.

You want to get over him but you can’t; you want to get over him even when he confesses his love for you at a time that you’ve stepped out of the middle, which was the only place you’ve been trying to coax him into to remind you that your yearning’s alive.

You’re twenty-seven when Jungkook first confesses to you.

“I’m in love with you and you don’t have to do anything about it,” he whispers, clutching a bouquet of your favorite flowers by your front door, left hand still trembling as he clutches the handwritten note of your address given by your brother who had promised to cut him off forever if he didn’t make things right with you. Jungkook isn’t doing this to get even with you, however — he’s doing this out of sheer longing. “And you don’t have to be in love with me for me to do everything about it.”

You’re twenty-seven, and you still know that Yoongi’s meant for greatness.

You know that he’s meant for greatness when he’s only a few years older than you and yet he’s already in the finishing steps of opening his own clinic, the technicalities of it amusing you because at his age, Yoongi’s acclaimed for his skill and his drive.

At your age, the hallmarks that you live with are that you’re going to join the family business (read: inserting yourself in Yoongi’s clinic) and make use of yourself to make up for the fact that you’re not particularly excellent at anything, and that finally, this is the second to the last year you’re going to be allowing yourself to confess your love to Jungkook.

Just because you allowed yourself to all those years ago, however, didn’t mean you were actually going to do it any longer.

You were freshly twenty-six when you and Jungkook had the fight that inexplicably changed your lives forever, more than growing up and witnessing each other change had ever did — you’re three months away from turning twenty-eight, and Jungkook’s never been more riddled with fear of loving you, but he does it anyway.

He’s more scared of losing you than he is with loving you, yet he knows he can’t forsake either in his pursuit.

Jungkook knows that he’s not meant for greatness, but you equate it, and he’s never wanted to strive to be something he’s not so badly in his life. He runs to you at full speed and he doesn’t care about the impact nor about the possibility that it wouldn’t bring him anywhere.

“You're not Sora," he utters when he sees you zoning out, gaze fixated on the first snow that falls right outside of the window of the clinic that’s still yet to be completed, hallowed out enough for his voice and his sentiment to echo throughout the walls. “And I don't want Sora."

"Nobody wakes up and just realizes that they don't love someone anymore, Jungkook," you murmur, following the way the bits of white patter against the ground helplessly because they have no choice but to fall.

Jungkook’s been nothing short of pathetic with his longing the entire year.

Even between him working as your brother’s contractor and even helping out the labor yet not ever running late from driving you to and from your place with homemade meals in hand, to him pulling his weight by being of service to you, by being anything that you asked and didn’t ask him to be — Jungkook, admittedly, can’t fill in the gaps of what longing for him in the past had instilled in you: doubt.

"I did,” Jungkook answers. “It happens."

"You spent the better part of your youth being in love with her," you remind him with a gentle roll of your eyes, ignoring the way he comes closer to give you his hard hat that you’ve always insisted on ditching out of stubbornness. “That doesn't just happen out of nowhere."

It’s daunting that you can talk about yours and Jungkook’s past out in the open.

It’s new.

"It happened because it wasn't out of nowhere," he clarifies. “I’ve been on and off with her in the first place because I— we, couldn't let go of the comfortable option which was each other."

“Just stop talking,” you murmur weakly, the lilt of your voice similar to the random days that creep up to you and remind you of the shade of the past, of Sora, that looms over you out of nowhere. "I... I-I must've had this conversation with you over and over again, Jungkook," you frown. "You're going to get back with each other like always."

"We're not," he corrects you, standing in front of you so closely that you could feel his warmth cling to your skin. “Sora and I are completely through."

"Whatever you say," you mutter, throwing your hands weakly, ready to call it a night when Jungkook grabs ahold of you firmly, undoubtedly, his eyes swimming in concern.

"Do you want time to prove it?" he tilts his head. "We could wait around for a lifetime and you'll believe me by then."

"I think I've done enough waiting,” you chuckle, drawing a laugh out of him.

You’re turning twenty-eight in three months, and Jungkook’s confessed his love for you more times than you’ve ever did for him in your lifetime; he’ll still love you under the weight of your shoe.

"You're meant for happiness, Y/N. You don't have to wait,” Jungkook murmurs. “And I need to work on being meant for you, so I have to wait."

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wannaghostbts · 1 month ago

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Can u see my eyes turnin' in to hearts keke!~ ♡

Connected

Summary: A bond that can’t be broken + Friends to Lovers

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: A lot of fluff, a splash of smut, and a hint of angst

Word Count: 18,260

A/N: This fic was one that I started a long while ago. Because of school, and a lack of motivation to write, I picked it up and put it down a lot. Finally, it’s done.

I really enjoyed creating something that feels so pure in nature. I hope you guys enjoy it.

**In the event that you’re unable to load the fic on the mobile app, please try desktop! I learned from Act On It that the app has trouble loading long posts!**

You’ve always hated the country.

For the most part.

The stretching fields, the dirt roads—the smell of cow manure and the decrepit barns and abandoned houses. Your parents had always tried to convince you that getting away from the city—seeing vast land like this—was a good thing. Taking the back roads and exploring were things that children were supposed to enjoy. An adventure to find things yet seen—but to you, one corn field is the same as the next. The faded red barns and boarded up houses become an eyesore.

You really hate coming out of the city and into the country.

The only thing here that you like is your grandmother.

Oh, and the boy next door.

Your grandmother has always lived out in the country—a peaceful area to retire, with few neighbors and little disturbances. She likes it here, and you doubt that she’ll ever move. And sure—coming out to visit her isn’t all bad. She feeds you and plays games with you. Stocks up on movies for the two of you to watch, and makes spending the day with her fun.

You love your grandmother, and visiting her—but you start to love it more the day you meet Taehyung.

One day, your father parks in the driveway in front of your grandmother’s ranch-style home. He reminds you to grab your overnight bag as you climb out of the car—the ripe age of 8 and a half. You reach back in to grab it as your father closes the driver’s side door and moseys up the drive.

After swinging your bag over your shoulder, you reach up to slide your door shut, but pause once your hand touches the handle. On a whim, you glance back at the main road, eyes catching on a small figure across the street.

In the country, houses aren’t very close, but you can still make out the little boy standing in the lawn of the house parallel to you grandmothers. His dirt splotched overalls are cuffed around his ankles, red shirt sagging off his shoulder, and black hair messy on his head. He’s staring at you with amazement written on his face, and before you know it a blush has risen on your cheeks.

You don’t realize it until later on—what the heat on your face and the flutter of your heart meant (because crushes are a little hard to figure out, in your opinion)—but that’s the moment you saw him.

Kim Taehyung.

Your father calls after you, and you hear your grandmother open the front door. Snapping out of it, you slide the car door shut and run inside.

You don’t see Kim Taehyung until you come back to visit 2 months later.

This time, he appears much, much closer. On the front porch of your grandmother’s house, in fact—hidden behind his own grandmother’s leg shyly.

“Oh, Taehyung here says that he saw your granddaughter last time she came to visit and wanted to play. But he’s a little shy,” his grandmother says, smiling fondly as she reaches down to ruffle the boys hair.

“Oh, Y/N is a little shy too,” your grandmother laughs, placing her hand on your shoulder. “But what do you say? Would you like to play with Taehyung today?”

Your eyes flit to Taehyung, excitement and anxiousness mingling in your veins. Trying to make new friends has always been scary to you, but…

“Yes,” you say, watching as Taehyung immediately perks up—smile breaking out on his face.

“C’mon!” he shouts and reaches forward, clasping your hand in his. He tugs you right out the front door and onto the grass, beaming a box-shaped grin as he makes his way back towards the road.

“I have some action figures we can play with!” he declares as his grandmother promises to have you home by dinner in the background. “Nana just got me a new game too! It’s a game with marbles and I’m still learning it but I think it’d be fun!”

For a moment, you simply stare at him—caught off guard by his friendly demeanor, when just seconds ago he had been acting much shyer than you. And yet—

His smile is contagious, and you laugh, nodding your head as he leads you across the dirt road—hands still clasped tight.

“Let’s play with it all!”

You tell your dad that you want to start visiting grandma more. With a knowing smile, he says that he’ll try to work it out.

Taehyung is your best friend. Some people at school don’t believe that your best friend is a boy who lives in the country. In fact, the mean girls’ claim that he’s made up—an imaginary friend that you say exists since you only have a select few friends at school. But, you know that he’s real.

The warmth of his hand in yours as you walk around the field behind his grandmother’s house is proof enough.

Between the ages of 8-10, you are able to visit Taehyung quite frequently. Your parents work out a play date schedule with his grandmother, and at least once a month you’re able to drive out of the busy city and into the quiet country to visit him.

Since Taehyung lives with his grandmother, but your grandmother only gets to see you so often, there’s a bit of a rule—

“Make sure to spend time with your grandma too, Y/N. I know Taehyung is fun, but your grandma loves you very much and would love to spend time with you as well.”

So, you make sure to tell Taehyung that you can only play with him until dinner. He’s unperturbed.

“Let’s just ask your grandma if I can spend the night then!”

He takes your hand and leaps into action. You’re shocked at his declaration, but blushing at the thought of being able to spend even more time with him. And when Taehyung runs through the front door of your grandmother’s house and loudly exclaims his idea to her, she only laughs and smiles fondly.

“You won’t be able to spend the night all the time, Taehyung, but I’ll let you spend the night tonight, okay?” She places a hand on his dark hair that has turned a little brown thanks to the exposure of the sun, and grins at you when your eyes sparkle with excitement. “Just go home and make sure it’s alright with your Nana.”

Taehyung nods so quickly you think his neck might snap, and the next second he’s out the door.

That night, the three of you feast on grilled cheese and tomato soup. Your grandmother puts on the Lion King for you both to watch, and you sit hip to hip, shrouded in a thick blanket while your grandmother knits in the corner. When the scary parts happen, you reach for Taehyung’s hand under the blanket, and he holds you tight.

Once the movie is done, and the sun has set, your grandmother tucks you both into the double bed in the guest bedroom. She asks if Taehyung wants to use the pullout bed to have more room, but you’re both quick to interject, saying that sharing the bed will be fine.

Your grandmother only smiles.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight, Taehyung.”

“Goodnight!” you both chorus, and your grandmother flicks the light off and closes the door. Taehyung rolls to face you. In the darkness, you feel his lips touch your forehead.

“Tae!” you squeal quietly, jumping in shock as you quickly bring your fingers up to touch your head. Your cheeks feel as if they’re on fire, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to realize that he’s done anything out of the ordinary.

“What? My Nana always gives me a kiss before I go to bed!”

“O-Oh,” you stutter, wondering if Taehyung can hear the pounding of your heart in your chest. “Okay.”

It’s silent for a few seconds.

Taehyung shifts against the sheets.

“Can you…um…are you gonna give me one back?”

The heat from your cheeks creeps down your neck.

You’ve never kissed a boy before…

“I…I can. Do you want me to?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, and you wonder if he’s blushing like you are. His tone sounds shyer than before.

You take a deep breath and puff out your chest, trying to calm your frazzled 10 year old nerves. This is just Taehyung—your best friend, and…the boy…you like.

Before you can think to back out and hide yourself away in embarrassment, you lean forward and press your puckered lips to his forehead. His bangs are in the way, since you hadn’t thought to move them, but Taehyung seems satisfied nonetheless.

“Thanks,” he says, snuggling into his pillow. You nod to yourself, settling back down. The moonlight coming through the window is dim, but you wonder if it’s enough for Taehyung to see how red your face has become.

You feel his warmth spreading against the sheets, and your knees knock together. Taehyung yawns, suddenly sounding quite tired.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Tae,” you respond, closing your own eyes as exhaustion from a day of fun begins to sink into your bones. Outside, you hear the chirping of crickets and the muted calls of cicadas. The sounds begin to lull you into slumber. However, just before you fall asleep—

“I love you…,” you catch the words mumbled by Taehyung, and mentally question if perhaps the boy has forgotten that he’s not at his grandmother’s home. But either way—

“I love you too,” you respond in a whisper, too tired to be embarrassed, and promptly pass out.

Taehyung is a year older than you, so he starts middle school a year sooner. According to him, middle school is a lot harder than elementary school. You come to believe him when his grandmother sadly tells you that you won’t be able to come over and play as much, since Taehyung needs to focus on his studies. You tell her that you understand, but a part of you doesn’t want to.

Either way, you give Taehyung a hug and wish him good luck before running back across the road to spend the afternoon with your grandma.

Your trips to the countryside lessen—cut in half. You see Taehyung perhaps once every two months, and in order to try and make up for his lack of appearances in your life, the two of you begin substituting play dates for phone calls.

Once a week, Taehyung and you sit down and talk for an hour. He tells you all about middle school and the friends he’s made and the kids who aren’t exactly nice to him. In return, you tell him about how you’re looking forward to starting middle school next year, and how you’ll always protect him from bullies. He laughs and assures you the same.

For a time, you think that this substitution will work just fine. Except…you miss him, and talking to him on the phone makes you miss him more.

You want to see him—his skin that is tan from the sun and his clothes that are always a little dirty from helping his grandmother tend to the field. His voice gives you comfort, but nothing can replace the feel of his hand in yours and the way he smile so brightly every time he sees you…

“Y/N?” Taehyung questions when he hears you sniffle on the other end of the line. “Are you okay?”

From the comfort of your home, you shake your head. Tears roll down your rosy cheeks, and you curl into yourself, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Taehyung’s heart breaks, worry flooding his chest as he listens to you try and stifle your sobs. He attempts to calm you down, asking again what’s wrong, and it takes a minute before you’re able to gather any words to say.

“I miss you,” you sob, quiet and broken, and Taehyung jolts—as if to jump through the phone and give you the biggest hug he possibly can.

“I miss you too,” he says after a few seconds, and you can hear the sadness in his voice. “But we’ll definitely see each other again, Y/N. I promise.”

“Promise?” you echo, messily wiping the tears off your cheeks with your palm.

“I promise. Even if it isn’t on the farm we’ll meet again. I’ll find a way.”

“Okay,” you respond with a smile, finally feeling reassured. “Good.”

“Now no more crying!” he declares, his tone goofy, and it immediately makes the mood brighten. “You should only smile when you think of me!”

You giggle. ”Okay, Tae, when I think of you, I’ll smile.”

Reclining back against his mattress, phone pressed to his ear, Taehyung blushes happily.

“Good.”

It takes a while, but you and Taehyung meet again. It’s not a planned meeting—in fact, it’s not exactly meant to happen, but you decide to make it happen.

“Y/N!” your father calls after you as you hop out of the car and run back down the drive way towards the dirt road. You pass a few cars on the way—those belonging to your aunts and uncles—but despite the fact that you have somewhere else to be your heart is alight with excitement.

“I’ll be right back!” you call to your parents as they watch you run across the street, shaking their heads. “I just wanna say hi!”

“Don’t be too long! You’re not here to play!” your mother responds, and you understand. You’re here for a family gathering, not to hang out with Taehyung.

…but still.

You hop onto the doorstep of the home of Taehyung’s grandmother, and knock at the door. You’re giddy with excitement, shoe tapping against the ground. It’s been over a year since you’ve seen Taehyung, and 6 months since the phone call where he’d promised that you’d see each other again.

You worry if he actually wants to see you, since it’s been so long, but oh—how you’ve missed him.

The door is pulled open, and a boy with short black hair stands before you. He blinks, brown eyes wide, and you have to glance up to meet his stare. His chest is broader and his legs are longer but—

“Taehyung?” you question, as if you’re deceived. How can one boy grow up so much in just one year? And yet, the sound of his name coming from your mouth has his signature grin breaking out on his lips, and he nods excitedly. His arms extend outwards, and he envelopes you in a tight hug, your feet nearly lifting off the ground.

“You’ve grown up,” you giggle against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him in return. Taehyung laughs, leaning back, and there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“Yeah, well, I’m almost 14. Puberty is finally starting to kick in, I guess,” he laughs, scratching at his cheek, and your eyes flit up to his hair.

“Your hair looks better this way,” you tell him, fingers lifting to comb through the short, black locks on his head. He no longer has the shaggy bowl cut you’ve always seen him with.

Taehyung blushes visibly at the compliment, the feeling of your fingers in his hair foreign, yet welcome. You toy with the soft strands for another few seconds before you notice the pink color on his cheeks, and you end up feeling quiet warm as well.

Quickly, you pull your hand back, and it’s at that moment that Taehyung’s grandmother appears over his shoulder.

“Oh! Y/N, it’s been so long!” she says, and Taehyung steps aside to give his grandmother room to hug you. She seems frailer than you remember, so you try not to squeeze too hard.

“Hi Grandma Kim, it’s nice to see you.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to show up again!” she exclaims, and then turns, heading back into the small home. “Wait right there, I’ve got something to give you!”

“Okay!” you respond as she disappears, and your eyes immediately return to Taehyung. He smiles, a fond twinkle in his eye.

“Is middle school as great as you thought it would be?” he questions, and you huff.

“Not exactly. It’s hard, and I have a lot of homework, but it’s still fun I guess. More teachers and more exciting classes.”

Taehyung’s eyes shift to the side, the sound of his grandmother coming back towards the door reaching his ears.

“Well, next year I’ll be in high school, so once school starts I’ll call and let you know what it’s like in comparison to middle school, if you want.”

“Of course!” you respond, beaming a smile, and at that moment Grandma Kim reappears.

“Here you go sweetie,” she says and reaches past Taehyung, slinging a thick red blanket around your shoulders. You blink, reaching up to secure the large blanket tighter around yourself. Grandma Kim smiles.

“I made it for you. You always did get cold in the winter, and the colder days are approaching.”

Your lips part, and you find yourself speechless. She…had made this for you and waited all this time…?

“Thank you…,” you say sincerely, and Grandma Kim ruffles your hair.

“Of course, sweetie. Now run on home—I bet the rest of your family is waiting for you.”

“Okay!” you nod, smiling, but when your eyes shift to Taehyung your smile wavers. You’d barely gotten to talk with him, and who knows when you’ll be able to meet him again…

You push forward and wrap your arms around him once more, squeezing him tightly. Taehyung blinks, caught off guard, but is quick to hug you back, his fingers digging into the fabric of the blanket around you.

“We’ll talk soon,” you tell him, and he nods.

“Alright,” you both pull back, but Taehyung doesn’t get too far. You feel the blanket on your shoulders shift, and Taehyung blinks in surprise as a loose thread follows the retreat of his body—curled tightly around one of his fingers.

“Ah—,” he pauses, head turning to look back at his grandmother, fearing that he’ll be in trouble for ruining the blanket she had put so much time into making, but his grandmother is far from mad. In fact, there’s a look of wonder on her face—one that lasts only a few seconds, before her eyes soften with understanding.

“You know, you two,” she begins, finger lightly tracing the unwoven strand that keeps you and Taehyung tied together. “It’s said that a red string connects two people that have linked fates.”

“Really?” you question, and she nods.

“Really. This just shows that no matter how far apart you two are, you’ll always be connected. Don’t you think so?”

You and Taehyung glance at each other, a soft blush having risen on both of your cheeks, and you smile. Together, the two of you bob your heads in unison. Grandma Kim smiles.

“Good,” she says, and unties the string from around Taehyung’s finger. At that moment, the door of your own grandmother’s house opens, and the voice of a child is heard.

“Y/N! Dinner! C’mon!”

“Coming, Kook!” you shout back, and take a step backwards, raising a hand to the two in front of you. “Bye, Tae. Bye Grandma Kim!”

“Bye!” Taehyung yells, waving back as you turn and jog across the street, red blanket fanning around you like a cape. A few seconds later, you disappear through the front door of your grandmother’s house, a small brown haired boy closing the door, and Taehyung feels a little empty again.

Little did either of you know that that would be your last time seeing each other.

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