bad decisions - jjk | eight
"God, what's wrong with us?" He laughs, still tapping the side of your head with his foot. It's annoying, but you let him.
"Fear of intimacy and fear of rejection," you muse. "Make quite the pair."
He smiles in such a way that it doesn't feel like a smile, but he hopes that the hormones will play tricks on him. Will convince him that he's happy. "Anyways, I keep the birds up as a reminder, I guess."
"Of?"
He just shrugs. "Gotta set people free."
It's a nice idea. One you think you'd quite like to indulge in, too.
"You got any more paper?"
"Fuckin' loads. Accidentally ordered, like, a thousand sheets."
Your voice is delicate as you say, "Show me how to make them?"
Bad Decision #8 - Washi Tape
warnings: THE BIRDS!!!! the most important plot device of the story!!, mentions of jk's former fwb (grimacing as i type)
soundtrack: are we having any fun yet? - larkins; beach side - kings of leon; toroka - christian kuria
wc: 8k
bd total wc: 370k (on-going)
minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |
When Jungkook wakes up in a dark room, he's confused. He never sleeps in pitch-black darkness. Even when his curtains are drawn, he usually has a lamp running throughout the night. It projects a galaxy onto his ceiling. Makes him feel like he's surrounded by stars.
Had no need for it last night, mind you.
After all, you were there. He was already surrounded by stars.
But now, he's not.
His eyes hazily focus on the pile of pillows next to his bed. He's kind of glum when he notices you're no longer buried within them. Pouts. Thinks you've done it again.
Thinks you've succumbed to your typical routines; done to him what was so unfairly done to you in the early hours of that very morning.
Would make sense, and yet he still feels a little vexed. Feels like it's a bit of a dick move on your part. Thinks that at the very least, you could have woken him to say goodbye.
He can't bring himself to be annoyed though. Is too concerned. Fears that the cold light of day will have left you embarrassed about your upset, and more than anything, he doesn't want you to lament the choices that led you to his place.
Doesn't wanna be another one of your bad decisions.
But then his bedroom door clicks open, and he closes his eyes, trying to pretend as if he'd never been mentally chewing you out for 'leaving'.
He's lethargic as he turns to hook a leg over his duvet, rolling onto his front. He's in shorts, the shirt he'd gone to bed in discarded during the night after he'd gotten a little too hot.
It's bunched up next to the towel that's crumpled by his head. He's not resting on it anymore, but it was always inevitable. He gets restless in his sleep.
Back broad, the ridge of his spine is on full display, muscles framing his skeleton like a work of art. He's got the kind of body the Greeks would have sculpted; Renaissance artists would have painted. Maybe one day you'll fill a canvas at the cafe with a study of his back.
He groans, an incoherent murmur sounding in his throat as he rubs his face into his mattress.
"Thought you'd left," he grumbles, voice slow and lethargic, eyes still closed. This is exactly why he sleeps with his curtains open. It makes it so much harder to stay in a state of slumber when he's being blinded by sunlight.
By the door, you're smiling. "Sorry. Didn't leave. Just went to get some water."
"Gimmie."
He pushes himself up, palms flat on the bed as he twists to face you.
Your hair is a little lopsided from where you've slept on it, but his is just the same. Even worse, maybe. In fact, he actually looks like he's just stuck a fork in an outlet with how unruly it is. His eyes are puffy, and he really doesn't want to keep them open, but he's trying to get a read on your mood.
He's pleasantly surprised to find you smiling, delicate as you tiptoe around his bed with two glasses of water. "Here."
Sitting up, duvet pooled around his waist, Jungkook takes the glass from you with two hands and chugs on it as if he's spent his dreams in the Sahara without a flask. The way he glugs it down is actually concerning - and the fact he doesn't stop until he's practically poured all of it down his gullet? You're surprised he doesn't drown himself.
He finishes with a slight gasp, and when he opens his eyes again, they're not as puffy as they once were. "Cheers."
You've only taken a single sip. Too busy looking at him with sheer bewilderment.
"Thirsty?" You laugh.
"Nah," he grins. The lies he tells are so sweet when he's looking at you like that. Makes you want to believe them. "Not in the slightest. Sleep alright? What time is it?"
"Really well, actually," you nod, taking a sip on your water as you sit back down into your pile of pillows. You notice his lack of cushions, and toss one up to him. It lands in his lap with a soft thud. "And it's just gone eleven."
He grumbles, taking the pillow beneath his arms, on top of his lap. No matter how late he gets home from work, he hates sleeping in late. Feels like he wastes his days. So much life to live in such a short amount of time. Wants to make the most of it.
"Not fancy the gym today?" You ask as he rubs his eyes, trying to shake himself from his drowsy slump.
"Figured you didn't need it," he says with an indifferent shrug. His lip ring glistens in the small stream of light that creeps in through the gap in his curtains. You lean around to pull one of them open a little further. He winces. Whines. "Bright."
"I didn't need it?" you ask, a little confused by what he means, ignoring his discomfort from the light. It's not like his visits to the gym have anything to do with you.
"You're not hungover," he shrugs, letting his body relax back down onto his mattress, pillow now beneath his head. "You don't need to walk it off."
"But you work out without me," you remind him. "Still could have gone."
He snorts now, eyes closed, lips pouting as he purrs a jibe in your direction. "I always workout without you, because you don't actually work out-"
"Fuck off, yes I do."
"Don't," he grins, opening one of his eyes, just to ignore the outrage on your soft features. He's glad you're eating up his bait. He's trying to move the direction of the conversation. Doesn't want to have to explain that he actually stayed home from the gym so that you wouldn't have to wake alone again. Would rather his kindness go unnoticed. "It's fine, though. Had a late night last night. I can go this evening instead. No work."
"Sorry," you whisper as you throw him a smile, aware that you've disrupted his plans, but he just shakes his head.
"S'cool," he shrugs. It's no hardship. No skin off his back. "Honestly."
His toned muscles tweak in the morning light as he reaches for his shirt, and you find yourself looking away. It's not like there's any need for it - his body is probably the thing he's most confident of - but the fact he's trying to cover himself makes you think that maybe you're seeing something you're not supposed to.
There are a couple of tattoos he'd rather not explain, and a tiny white scar just below his ribs from a wheelie gone wrong during his childhood, but nothing too revealing.
Still, you're in his space, and that in itself feels incredibly personal. Not uncomfortable, just a little less casual now in the broad daylight that's pouring in through his windows than it had been in the dark of night.
"I should probably get out of your hair," you offer, not wanting to overstay your welcome.
Jungkook disagrees. Thinks you're perfectly welcome. "No rush."
"It's fine," you smile, pulling your hair from the bun it's tied in and shaking it out. It smells like strawberries. Smells like Jungkook. "I really appreciate you being around last night. The least I can do is not derail your entire Sunday."
He wants to say that taking an alternative route wouldn't be derailing, and that it really doesn't matter if he ends up at the same destination, but locomotive metaphors feel lame, and he also doesn't wanna have to explain that chess wasn't the only slightly nerdy pastime he'd indulged in a child.
So instead, he just says, "If you're sure?"
Your clothes hang over the back of his desk chair, just as slouchy and comfy as the shirt of his you're wearing, but somehow a little less appealing. He reaches over for them and tosses them your way, because he doesn't want it to look like he'd quite like you to stay.
Just feels bad that you'll be going back to your apartment, knowing it will smell like your ex. Knows that the reality you ran away from will be just the same as you left it. The bed will still be unmade, the clothes Seokjin had stripped you of will still be crumpled on your floor. Maybe the indent of his head will still be on your pillow, condom wrapper still by the foot of your bed. The sound of his laugh could be trapped beneath your duvet, the feel of his hands on your skin could be heavy in the stale air of your unventilated bedroom.
Should have opened a window before you left.
And Seokjin never should have left in the first place, but it is what it is.
"I'll let you get changed," Jungkook says, drawing you from your senseless thoughts, eyes soft, not really waiting for a response before he heads for his door.
You say a small thank you, but it's muffled slightly by the way it catches in your throat. He doesn't acknowledge it, slipping out of his room without turning back.
He's conscious of the fact that you've been rolling dice and landing on chance cards for a little while, now. Your friendship had been chalked up to lucky encounters and serendipitous endeavours.
Last night was much more deliberate. Felt like you'd looked through the chance cards before picking one: Go to a square of your choice. Collect £200 if you pass go.
He doesn't have a full set of cards yet. Can't put down houses, nor hotels - but you landed on the waterworks last night, and he landed on the electricity company. You're level. Both winners; both losers.
Muffled chatter has you slightly on edge as you hear Jimin's sleepy voice spliced in conversation with Jungkook's. Hadn't considered how strange it could look for you to be leaving Jungkook's room, when all three of you know the last time you'd been in their apartment, it was Jimin's room that you'd tried (and failed) to sneak out of.
And while there's no need for you to sneak around now, you know it will look a little precarious if you slink out of Jungkook's room with a look upon your face that will no doubt reek of guilt.
It's not because you've done anything wrong, but just because you understand the dynamics of friendship. If Jimin emerged from Danbi's room without warning, you'd be a little confused. Not upset, per se, but definitely awkward. It's easier for everyone if your current whereabouts are unknown.
You fold Jungkook's shirt neatly and smooth his bed sheets, trying to make his room look a little bit more presentable.
As you're stacking the mountain of pillows towards the top of his double bed, you can hear Jimin query where the sofa cushions have gone. Jungkook lies. Says he was building a fort for gaming. Promises he'll bring them back - but Jimin just says not to worry. He'll bring his pillows from his bedroom into the living room for the time being. Jungkook can keep the fort up.
There's a smile on your lips. It's nice to hear them chatter; nice to hear Jimin in a normal setting outside of a club or a bedroom. Even nicer to hear that Jungkook is just as tender with his housemate as he is with you. He's kind. You think it's your favourite thing about him.
Which is strange, because normally kindness makes you run for the hills - but as you cross your legs, sitting at the end of his bed, you realise there's no need. The reason you're not running is because Jungkook isn't chasing you. He walks alongside you, like your shoelaces are tied together.
Maybe one day you'll trip, but for now, you have a good pace set.
When he returns to his room, he's holding a finger to his lips. Shush, Byeol. Keep quiet.
And yet he vaults a packet of crisps at your face without much thought. The thick plastic crinkles against you, and Jungkook finds himself in a state of pleasant surprise from the impact, brows raised, mouth circled like a polo.
You say a thousand words with just a single gasp.
"Sorry, sorry," he whispers with a hushed giggle, the door now shut, realising how much he underestimated his throw. His palms are raised like he's holding white flags until he reaches the bed. You go to kick him, but he catches your ankle just in time. "Hey, hey!" He's still whispering. "I said I'm sorry!"
His thumb strokes against the bone of your ankle as he apologises, and the sweetness of his smile is hard to resist. You yank your leg back from his grasp and narrow your eyes.
"Couldda blinded me."
"Don't be dramatic."
"Never tell a dramatic girl to stop being dramatic, Jungkook. You don't know what you'll unleash."
He rolls his eyes and flops down onto his bed beside you. He's looking up at those damn birds again - so you do the same. His patchwork arm folds behind his head, ink-free arm resting over his stomach as he waits for you to shuffle into a comfortable position. There's only a little distance between the pair of you, but it's enough to reinforce that line you've drawn in the sand.
"Jimin's just put The Notebook on," he says without much animation, as if it were an inevitability he saw coming.
"So..."
"So, it means two things," he says with absolute certainty—because it was an inevitability. "Number one? He didn't get laid last night."
You laugh, not picturing Jimin as much of a romantic- especially when you know how he likes to fuck. Must have been why he offered you the chance to stay over. It could be that your least favourite part of a hook-up - the intimacy - is his favourite.
"And two?"
"Two is that we've got two hours until he leaves the living room."
"Shit."
Jungkook turns his head to face you, seemingly affronted by your exclamation. "Ouch. Rude. My company isn't that bad."
You let your gaze drop to meet his, the side of your head now resting on his duvet. You smile. "Yes, it is."
"Dickhead," he laughs, but doesn't let his gaze linger on yours for too long. Something so damn fascinating about those birds. "Nah, it's up to you. If you really have to get gone, I don't mind telling him you're here. I don't think he'll make it weird, or anything.
"I'd rather not," you admit. "Just means... explaining things, doesn't it? Don't really want a guy I hooked up with once knowing the ins and outs of my dating life."
He nods. Understands. Things are simple between the pair of you, but there are complexities when it comes to your mutual friends.
"Told him I'm not feeling great, so he's not gonna disturb me for a bit. I'll get Netflix up on my desktop or something, you can watch whatever you fancy. I've got some coursework to catch up on, so I'll be doing that."
You watch Jungkook as he reaches over you with a muffled sigh. He's retrieving the iPad from his nightstand. He's never mentioned his studies before, but there's something incredibly confusing about the concept of him—bartending gym rat, heavily tattooed Jungkook—doing homework.
But then you're feeling bad again, knowing surely you'll be a distraction to his day.
"Sure you don't wanna use your desktop for your coursework?"
"Nah, nah," he smiles and raises the tablet. "S'what I use in class. All my notes are on here."
It's the first you've discussed his studies. Didn't even realise he was still in school. Still so much to learn about one another. It's okay, though. You've all the time in the world.
"Watcha studying?"
He presses his lips together, not quite smiling. Finds it a little bit awkward talking about his endeavours, knowing that there is a weight that comes with a degree. Doesn't want to get one and then end up never using it in his life - kind of like you.
"Business and events. Study part-time. Had to work alongside it. In my final year."
"Oh wow," you say, genuinely surprised. You just never assumed he had any free time, because you only ever actually see him when he's busy. You've never seen him on a Tuesday and nor a Thursday, though, which is when he's in lectures. "That's impressive."
He rolls his dark eyes, but his smile is ever-present. He awkwardly sucks a little air between his teeth and knocks his head to the side. "It's not. Everyone has degrees these days."
You want to argue back, but then he's asking you about your degree, and how you ended up working in an art cafe. The answer is simple yet feels complex—a saturated job market is where you place your blame, but the internal feeling of inadequacy is why you actually think you never got one of the lucrative roles in your chosen industry. Just don't feel like you're good enough. It wasn't for a lack of trying.
He tells you it's impressive that you've got a degree, with a bit of a shit-eating smile, and it has you rolling your eyes, too. Makes you realise how dumb you sounded saying it to him.
"C'mon," he nods towards his desk. "Let's pick something to watch."
There's a casual nature to the way he lets you sit on his desk chair, chin resting upon your knees, as he leans over you; hand on the mouse, navigating through his desktop.
You ignore the fact he opens up chrome in incognito mode. He just hasn't deleted his history in, like, forever, and fears what could be on display. Knows that there's a high chance it could be something unsavoury. Could also still have a tab open with your name in the search bar.
He just got curious. That's all. No biggie.
His keyboard is one of the tippy-tappy kinds. Goes click-clack as he types. You don't know the name of the keyboard model, just know that you like stumbling across videos of them at two o'clock in the morning.
It sounds so comforting when Jungkook enters the web address. His password, too, and then your name into a new user, because he doesn't trust you not to fuck with his Netflix landing page.
He restricts your access to 'kids only,' for no reason other than to have you whining in his direction. He refuses to change it back. Tells you to suck it. Keeps it up until you pinch some of his hair between your fingers and threaten to pull.
"Alright, alright!" he exclaims in a hushed whisper, still conscious of Jimin in the next room over. He clicks through the settings and restores your access - but also then picks the ugliest-looking character he can find for your display picture, too. "There. Happy?"
"The happiest."
And somehow, it doesn't feel like a lie.
See, when Jungkook's focus is on you—his laugh in your ear, smile in your eye line—you forget the ache in your chest left by Jin.
He's a distraction, but not in the sense that Jimin was. Not how any of your hookups have been. He doesn't offer what they did - and he won't, which is likely why the distraction is so welcome by you.
He's sticking dry ramyeon in your cracks and sanding it down. It's not perfect, and it's not permanent, but it does alright for now.
You look over at him in the mirror by his window, intently observing him as he gets to grips with his notes. There's a swell in your chest. It's so nice to have a friend. To not have expectations. To have someone value having you around for no ulterior motive.
Jungkook doesn't really think much of it. He likes having you around, too. Likes your company. Likes that he doesn't have to worry about you crushing on him, because Jimin's already taken your fancy. Likes the lack of pressure.
Doesn't like it so much when you start asking him about his origami birds again a little while later.
You've just finished an episode of some crime drama he doesn't recognise, but didn't choose to start the next one up. Instead, you waltz to the end of his bed and lie down to look at the folded figurines.
You get why Jungkook seems to like doing it so much. There's a subdued serenity to their soft movements in the stream of air blowing from his aircon unit.
"How'd you make them?" You ask, eyes concentrating up at them. They're two-tone—white on top, black from beneath. All the same. Uniform. Identical.
He knows what you're asking about, so he doesn't look up from the notes he's making. "Easily."
"You're the worst," you say, and he can almost hear the fact you're smiling.
"Nah," he retracts his statement as he glances over towards you. "Really wanna know how?"
You turn your head to meet his gaze. He looks far more awake, now. "Obviously."
He shrugs. Has that shit-eating grin on his face again. "Folded some paper."
"I'm leaving," you say, and yet you don't move a muscle.
"Jimin's still in the living room," he reminds you.
And so you decide to play up to the narrative he's already decided for you and his housemate. "Maybe I'll just go to his room for round two."
"Told you it wouldn't just be a one-time thing."
"Literally fuck off," you laugh, knowing there's no way you'll ever win against Jeon Jungkook.
"It's my bedroom, where exactly am I meant to fuck off to?"
"The floor."
And so he does. Takes his iPad, sticks his apple pen behind his ear and crosses his legs on the shagpile rug that's next to his bed. He's challenging you as he raises his brows.
You don't wanna bite the bait. "God, you're so ridiculous."
"You love it," he jokes, and then he realises that he might be flirting a little bit, so he tries to draw it back. Decides that maybe it would be good to tell you why he's got them up. You shared a lot last night. His turn, now.
"No, I... I dated a girl for a bit who would always fold things up into butterflies. Guess I wanted her to think we had a similar quirk, or something like that."
He's so sweet that it's devastating. Must have broken his fair share of hearts, you think.
"Did she fall for it?"
You know you would have.
"She never knew," he admits. A blush creeps across his cheeks and atop his nose. Pretty. "It was a bit of a weird situation."
"You? Weird? Gasp. Sounds unlikely."
"Shut up," he laughs, briefly meeting your gaze before looking down at his hands. "No, we were friends for the longest time. Still are, I guess. Same group of friends, at least. We were never official. Just a couple of friends who fucked about for a bit. Anyways, to cut a long story short, things didn't work out. So. She hasn't been here to see them."
"But you're still friends?"
Depends on how you define friends, he thinks. There was never any big fight. The last time he saw her—a night out to celebrate another friend's birthday—they'd spent the entire night goofing around together.
It's funny, really, how Jungkook thinks you're the epitome of stars, but he's never had more in his eyes than when he looked at her.
You've never seen him like that. The only time you see stars in his eyes is when you catch your own reflection.
You think it would be nice, though. Think he'd look sweet all loved up, boyish and bashful in the presence of someone whose beauty encapsulates everyone around them. To see him in love would almost feel like experiencing it yourself.
"Kinda," he shrugs. "Don't see her much. She's got a boyfriend up in Seoul. Spends most of her time there."
The melody of his voice is melancholic. He doesn't sound regretful. Maybe a little resentful. Sad, more than anything. It's a shame.
"You really liked her?"
Jungkook decides he's said enough. He puts on his best smile and shakes his head. Plays it off like it's no big deal. Pretends as if he didn't make a single-at-thirty marriage pact with her. Acts like he doesn't wish things had worked out differently; like he doesn't kind of hope he'll still be single at thirty, just in case she is, too.
"Why are we even talking about this? Really doesn't matter," he says, voice a little harsher than he intends. You feel guilty for pushing the subject. Glad to know him a little better, mind you. "I think I get it, though. Your whole... never staying thing."
He's the first person to say that to you. Everyone else has made you feel a little weird for it; as if your one-night-stands are somehow even sleazier because of it.
Your voice is quiet as you look at your hands. "You do?"
"Kind of," he shrugs. "I always stay, but only cause I only tend to fuck girls I actually like. I just... since her I haven't really let it get that far. Scared of staying and then the girl leaving, like she did, I guess. You 'n' me? We're two sides of the same coin. Doesn't really matter, though does it?"
Jungkook surprises you. You'd have never thought him to be as much of a defeatist as he appears to be, now.
"No," you acknowledge as he comes back to sit on his bed. He lays down, head by your ankles, feet by your head. The birds above him are none the wiser of their impact on him. "It's just, I came to you crying over my ex last night, so it'll be nice to have a heads up if you're gonna come crying to me."
There's humour in your voice, and he appreciates it. Likes that he can be serious with you, but that you try and lighten the mood for him. He doesn't like talking about things like this. Always gets a heaviness in his chest. Only ever had a panic attack once, but he remembers how it started. Remembers it feeling a lot like this.
"She's not an ex. We never dated, so. Won't be crying. Don't worry."
You both know that titles count for nothing. Both know he cried plenty.
"Ouch," you grimace, to which he just smiles, now. No point in letting himself dwell upon it all.
"It is what it is."
"Bit more than that," you counter, because apparently you don't know when to shut up. It's not that you want him to have to rehash his bad memories. You just think they're eating him up. Think it will do him good to exhale.
He hums in confusion, the noise light and airy. Almost like he's chirping. Maybe he's secretly one of his little paper birds in disguise.
"Well, if it was enough to put you off dating for good," you rationalise. You know why he's downplaying it, but he'll do himself no favours by living in denial. "It shouldn't be dismissed as nothing."
"Not for good," he objects, and taps your head with his foot. You bat him away, but there's a weightlessness to the way you both start laughing. "Just for now."
"How long has it been?"
"Does it matter?"
"No."
He kind of hates how many questions you ask. Kind of likes it, too. Likes that you don't know the Jungkook that came before her. Likes that you never had to see him when he was struggling with it.
The only person that had ever seen it was Jimin. So good at putting on a brave face, the rest of their friends barely knew. Even she didn't realise how badly she hurt him. It's why she still tries to be his friend.
Makes sense. They were best friends. Always said things would never change. In her eyes, they haven't.
"Just over a year," he finally sighs. "Confessed last spring. Was also subsequently rejected, but not till the summer."
You chirp in confusion now. Think about how long it must have fucked with him, never knowing where he stood. You feel awful for him.
"Well, she said she wasn't sure what she wanted. Anyways, ended up not being me. And so now, I never let myself get that deep into things. Don't wanna repeat history. Make the same bad decisions. Y'know?"
It's the SparkNotes version.
He won't bore you with the way he accidentally said he loved her after one too many shots, and how she'd told him that he didn't mean it - only for him to fuck her that evening like he really did. Won't tell you how she asked him about it in the morning, and when Jungkook nervously asked, "Well, do you want me to be in love with you?", she'd said, "No. I think that would ruin things."
And so he'd just laughed, and told her good. Said he'd never be in love with someone as ugly as her with a smile on his face reserved for only the most beautiful of people.
He won't tell you how she began to playfight with him, and how he ended up fucking her again. Fucking her like he meant it. Fucking her like she put the stars in the sky and stole the wind from his sails just to turn the tides. Fucking her like he never had done before. Fucking her like she wasn't just a friend, and he wasn't just a little horny.
The difference was, sober now, she felt it. Felt his intent. Knew that his slip-up had been the product of a fall.
He was confused, but so was she. He hadn't meant to fall—but she hadn't meant to trip him. No one was to blame.
And so he just blames himself. Shies away from love, 'cause he thinks that maybe he isn't right for it. If even the person who knew him better than he knew himself couldn't bring herself to love him, then what hope did he have?
"God, what's wrong with us?" He laughs, still tapping the side of your head with his foot. It's annoying, but you let him.
"Fear of intimacy and fear of rejection," you muse. "Make quite the pair."
He smiles in such a way that it doesn't feel like a smile, but he hopes that the hormones will play tricks on him. Make him at least think he's happy. "Anyways, I keep the birds up as a reminder, I guess."
"Of?"
He just shrugs. "Gotta set people free."
It's a nice idea. One you think you'd quite like to indulge in, too.
"You got any more paper?"
"Fuckin' loads. Accidentally ordered, like, a thousand sheets."
Your voice is delicate as you say, "Show me how to make them?"
There's hesitancy from Jungkook. Not sure he wants to share such a personal part of himself.
But then he thinks maybe it would be nice. Thinks that just because he wants to be alone romantically, doesn't mean he has to be lonely.
He tells you where the paper is—the top drawer beneath his desk—and begins to instruct you. They're simple enough. Only a few steps. He's made so many that he relies mostly on muscle memory.
Your first attempts are terrible. He questions whether or not you really work at an art cafe, because he can't comprehend that you're so bloody awful at crafting. You tell him that painting is an entirely different discipline, and he tells you that you're making excuses.
Eventually, though, you get the hang of it. Can make them without getting paper cuts. Almost. He still laughs every time you wince and mutter 'shit' beneath your breath.
You're about ten birds deep into your new flock when you walk to his desk to retrieve a pen. Jungkook raises a brow, catching the biro effortlessly as you toss it towards him.
"Can't just set people free," you say, an idea brewing in your head. "Gotta set your fears free, too. It's the only way you'll get over them."
"Okay," he bites. "So?"
"So: go on," you nod towards the sheet of paper in his hand. "One of the things you're scared of. Rejection right? What are scared to do because of that?"
It's a big question. He's not even entirely sure he knows the answer.
And so he deflects. "What are you scared of?"
You take a moment to think, uncapping a pen with your teeth and scrawling down an answer on the sheet of paper. When you're done, pen cap still between your teeth, you turn the page to show him your answer: Staying the night after a hook up.
"I don't do it," you say candidly, as if it's news to either of you. "What don't you do?"
He takes a moment now. Really considers how his complexes conflict with his life. Some are easier to confront than others, though, so he scribbles one down and holds it up: following girls back on instagram.
A smile tugs at your lips. "Sorry?"
"Well, what if they strike up a conversation in my DMs?" He says as if it's a totally rational and reasonable response.
"You followed me, though?"
"It's different. I was just trying to get you your phone back—and not being funny, Byeol, you'd just fucked Jimin? Didn't really think you'd be trying it on with me?"
You snicker a little. It's kind of nice how he sees you as this strange entity all because you got a little frisky with Jimin. Writes you off. Doesn't consider you a 'girl' anymore, apparently.
But all you can do is laugh and say, "Yeah, fair enough. Suppose that's true. Alright, now you're done, fold it up."
You both do it in unison, the folds coming easily now that he's shown you the ropes. He's almost a little bit impressed that you finish just a second or so after him. Isn't actually impressed, 'cause it's the simplest origami known to man, but it's sweet how pleased you seem to be with yourself. Cute.
"And set it free," you finish, tossing it down into the pile of birds gathering by the foot of his bed.
"And set it free," he nods with a grin, twiddling his lip ring with his tongue as his gaze lands on yours; his bird landing in the pile.
Such a simple act, and yet it is freeing.
"Again?" he asks, to which you repeat his word back to him.
"Again."
The pair of you sit in comfortable silence, scrawling out your fears onto the papers. You choose to write all of your fears out first, and then fold them up. Jungkook writes a fear, folds, and then repeats it. Different methods, same end goals.
He runs out of fears before you do, but it's okay. Not like it's a competition. He thinks it's interesting. Wonders what you're hiding up there behind your starry eyes.
"What now?" he asks as you toss your final bird into the pile.
Your purse your lips together, contemplating the next step. There's only one that really makes sense.
"You got any string?"
And of course, he does. Not only did he order far too many sheets of paper, but also far too much string. He gets it from the drawer beneath his desk, and a couple of rolls of tape. It's washi, dark grey, and he worries that it's been sitting for so long that it could have lost its tackiness.
You don't seem phased though as you stand on his bed and struggle to reach the ceiling. It's all very endearing. He comes to stand behind you, and doesn't really think much of it as he reaches for your hips and pulls you off of his bed. At least, he doesn't think anything of it until you shriek a little in surprise - and then he's covering your mouth with one of his hands, the other still on your hip.
"Shush, shush, shush," he coos with a small laugh as you swot him away. "You stick the string to the birds. I'll put them up."
Routines come as bread and butter to the pair of you. It's so casual how you work together, like the tides and the moon, it just... works. It doesn't take long once you fall into a pattern—string, stick, pass, stick—and soon enough, his bed has a canopy of so many birds that it's almost hysterical.
"Got a whole flock now," you smile as you both come to lay back down, heads by each other's ankles. Opposites. In tandem. Yin and Yang.
It's kind of a mess, but in such a way that it feels entirely right. There are a few incredibly lopsided birdies, all thanks to you, but Jungkook finds a certain charm to them. Likes how you somehow managed to make perfect birds and also ones that belonged in the bin—and how it was those slightly wonky ones that you seem to like the most.
It's as you're praising how pretty the birds look that the washi tapes loosens on one of them, falling onto your tummy.
Jungkook groans. "Told you the tape wasn't strong enough."
You scrunch your nose. He's right, but you don't want to acknowledge it. Don't like 'told you so' moments—so instead, you pretend as if it was meant to be.
"Must be that you're ready to set that fear free."
"Hmm?"
"Well, it definitely isn't one of mine," you grin, holding the bird up to look at it. The folds are sharp and pointed. Pristine, almost. It's too well-made to be one of yours, so you pass it over to him. "What does it say?"
"None of your business," he declares, holding it tight to his chest.
But he's curious too, and just laughs when he opens it. Holds it open. Gives you a peak.
Following girls back on Instagram.
"You've already seen it," he says, explaining why he doesn't mind you looking at it.
"And I still don't understand why you think it's such a huge thing," you tell him softly - not because you want to invalidate his fears, but because you want to understand them.
"A lot of girls find me through the club's Instagram," he admits, sensing that your confusion would only be remedied with honesty. "Feels a bit sleazy to follow them back when they were probably drunk."
"It's an insta follow back, Kook. You're hardly making a move," you say. "It really doesn't have to be a big deal. If they're already following you, then you're the one rejecting them."
"But what if"—
"But nothing. Gimmie your phone," you say—and you're surprised when he does. No hesitation. Makes you think that maybe just he needs a push. Wants this.
He's pleased when he notices a slight sparkle to your chipped nail varnish. It's midnight blue, and you bought it because it reminds you of a twilight sky, but it just confirms that you're made of stardust to Jungkook. The shine prevails even when you're without your trusty glitter.
You pull up Instagram and head to his notifications. He's got a solid bounty of new followers. 68 since he last checked.
"Okay, what about her?" You pause your scroll on a brunette—slim build, hair cropped to just above her shoulders. She's wearing a little glitter too, from the looks of things. Jungkook wonders if that's why she stood out for you. Wonders if maybe you saw a little bit of yourself in her.
"Yeah, she's pretty," he admits, but glances over to you to check he isn't speaking in a way that makes him seem like a dick. He doesn't want you to think he'd objectifying anyone. "I'm not so sur-"
He doesn't have a chance. You've already pressed on the little blue follow button.
"See! Not so hard."
Jungkook disagrees.
There's a feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if the girl shows up at the bar and tries to strike up a conversation? Then what? The first step is all very well and good, but you seem to have forgotten that his life goes on after the press of a follow button.
But then the moment passes, and he realises that the world is still turning just as it always has been. Nothing has changed. Maybe it is okay.
And so he takes a little bit of a lead.
"Who next?" he asks, trusting your decisions.
"Her?" your thumb points towards another brunette. She's gorgeous. Face straight out of a magazine, body off a catwalk. How on earth he wouldn't have noticed her at the club is beyond you. She's not the kind you'd forget easily.
"I remember her," he says, confirming your suspicions. He does notice girls, and he does pay an interest in them. You think it's sad that he's stopping himself from pursuing any of them.
His voice is flat as his lips sneer a little, though. Had noticed her for all the wrong reasons.
"She was a grade-A wanker to Yeonjun," he explains. "Literally was last night. He messed up her order, and instead of just asking for a redo like a normal human being, she pretended to knock it over. Got vodka lemonade all over the counter, which is like, not an issue, but when it's peak time and you do it just to be a dick? Yeah. I served her for the rest of the night so he wouldn't have to deal with her. She follows me?"
You nod, a little embarrassed that you suggested her. It almost feels like you're the one being scolded. You kind of like seeing him like this, though. He looks good a little heated. It's so different to how mild-mannered he typically is.
"Force her to unfollow me."
The look on his face as you glance over at him is hard to read. He faces you, eyes focused on yours. They dip quickly to where your mouth rests ajar in surprise, then back up. "What?"
"Nothing," you laugh. "Just... I dunno. Strong morals."
"That a bad thing?"
"Not in the slightest," you say, voice soft, smile faint but sincere.
He goes to speak, but stops himself. Changes the topic. "Who next?"
And so you scroll, because you don't want to dwell. You make your way through a few of his followers, almost like you're playing an insta-tinder-hybrid.
"Oh, what the fuck," you snort as you reach a profile towards the bottom of the list.
"Hmm?" He asks as he looks at the profile you tap through to.
Ciara, her profile reads, and the instant you see her tight curls that delicately frame her face, dyed a caramel blonde to contrast her dark eyes, you recognise her. Like most of the girls in his notifications, she has the kind of beauty to leave an impression.
Unlike the last girl you'd done a deep dive on, she actually is a sweetheart, you think.
From what you remember, at least.
"Ciara," you hum, scrolling through her feed. It's dappled with pictures of friends, books in coffee shops and adventures from her time in Korea. She's Irish—not that her profile really gives it away—and you can almost remember the way her accent tastes. "It's definitely the club where she first saw you."
"She did?" He asks, not really sure how you know this with such certainty.
"Uh-huh. I met her a few weeks ago."
Jungkook doesn't interrupt. He senses more coming.
And then you shrug.
"Hooked up with her, actually."
"Oh," he says with a little surprise. Doesn't sound negative, but it doesn't sound entirely positive, either. You glance over to find him looking at you, and question his surprise. "I just didn't know. That's all."
And then you laugh. "Why do men always seem to think women's lives revolve around the male species?"
"I don't," he quickly protests, not wanting you to think ill of him.
Though he's pretty set on his sexuality, he's also no stranger to a little experimentation. Wouldn't judge anyone for their sexual endeavours, nor who they choose to engage in said endeavours with. Consenting adults are consenting adults.
"Literally just didn't know," he adds on. "It's no different to you being surprised when you found out I was studying for my degree."
You narrow your eyes but it's all in jest. You accept his response. Have had far worse in the past.
"Do you mind me asking?" He continues, getting a read on your expression before he clarifies. Doesn't wanna overstep the mark, but also isn't asking you anything he wouldn't be comfortable with you asking him back. "How you, like, identify?"
It's delicate, how he phrases it. Tender. Airy. Makes you feel quite safe, actually. His voice is so calm and neutral, that he may as well be asking what you'd like for dinner.
You simply shrug, shoulders lifting and then pressing back down into his duvet. It's something you've given a lot of thought, but always find hard to draw conclusions on. "Always just used to say bi."
"Used to say?"
"Had a boyfriend for a year, so people never cared to ask," you purse your lips, reminded of your least favourite aspect of dating Seokjin: erasure. Not just of your sexuality, but of your identity outside of the relationship. You were 'Jin's girlfriend' to so many people. You hated it. Wanted to be a person in your own right. "Maybe it was self-inflicted, but people seemed to forget I had a life before him. Maybe I did, too. When you lose your sense of self, it's hard to define it, yanno?"
Jungkook nods. He doesn't entirely understand, but tries. Recognises it was difficult for you. Feels bad. "Sorry."
"Not your fault, is it? Anyway, it's okay. I'm trying to rediscover myself, almost? Trying not to tie myself to anything too definitively. Scared I'll get it wrong."
"You're allowed to not know," he says. His brows crease above the bridge of his nose like they always do whenever he's speaking with a little passion. "And you're also allowed to know and not want to define it. Fuck what anyone else thinks."
"Either way," you deflect, not wanting to dwell. "Would be weird if you started chirpsing a girl I've been with."
"Agreed," he laughed. "Would make a double date with Jimin interesting."
"Jesus, give up the Jimin agenda," you smile. "It's not gonna happen again."
"Sureeee. Okay, next girl," he says, but is interrupted by a second origami bird falling.
It's on the outskirts of the flock - the one impacted the most by the breeze of the aircon - and Jungkook can tell immediately who made it.
"Oh this is definitely one of yours," he laughs, holding it up to study it. "How is the wing so bloody wonky?"
"He's poorly," you pout. "Like Jacquimo from Thumbelina."
Jungkook doesn't even pretend to know what you're referencing, so you just tell him you'll show him later. It's one of your favourite films. He says he'll watch it if you win a game of chess against him. You've no idea how to play. Tell him your agent will be in touch to schedule a tournament. He says he'll be waiting.
And then he's thinking. Voicing his thoughts. "We faced one of my fears"—
"And no one died."
"Exactly, no one died," he smiles. "So let's face one of yours."
"Wait!" You say quickly, going to grab the bird from his grasp, but he holds it above his head. You panic. "Look, Kook, I didn't plan on you ever seeing any of mine."
"So?"
"So... " you cringe. "Fear of intimacy."
"Sooo?"
"So... intimacy??"
"I'm lost?"
God, he couldn't be more of a boy if he tried. You half think that sometimes he plays dumb just to get you squirming. If he does, it works.
"Some of them aren't exactly PG," you say, your face scrunching even further up, as if you're preparing for a shot. Alcohol or medicinal. Doesn't matter which. Both would be less painful than this.
The way Jungkook laughs has you covering his mouth. It's a role reversal, with you reminding him Jimin is just next door.
"Sorry, sorry," he says as he recovers his breath. His teeth are on show, nose blushed, skin dewy. He's so pretty like this, you think. Handsome when he's happy. "I just—how bad can it be?"
The look on his face as he opens it says it all.
Yep.
You groan.
"Jesus Christ, Byeol."
Pretty fucking bad.
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