#fic: Feeling in Chaos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

here4kpopfics · 1 year

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Feeling in Chaos - Fall pt. 2 | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

Genre: drama, angst, smut

AU: art college!au, friends to lovers, best friend’s brother

Wordcount: 12,670

Summary: It’s time to talk about it.

Rating: M / 18+

Warnings: Language. Grief. Panic attacks. MC has PTSD and is learning how to get through it. Jealousy. Self-loathing. Ryujin’s trying. Koo’s going through something. Possibly problematic friendship/relationship.

Smut Warnings: None, just mentions of the smut in the previous chapter.

AN: Ah, so…surprise? Over two months later…This chapter has a lot going on. A lot of much needed conversations and finally some attempts to move forward. I have nothing further to add, except for my apologies for it being late. 😅Thank you to the soulmate @playmetheclassics for beta reading. ily

Banner and Divider by @classicscreations

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When you finally get to the club, you glance around to ensure Ryujin isn’t outside. You walk to the front of the line and get the security guard’s attention.

“I’m sorry, my friend is in there, she’s drunk, and I just need to get her out and take her home. Is there any way I can just go in and grab her?”

The tall buff man that could honestly give The Rock a run for his money shakes his head.

“Sorry, miss. I’ve heard that line one too many times. You’ll have to wait in line with the others.”

“Please? She’s grieving, and I just. I need to get her home before she does something she regrets.”

He only shakes his head again and points towards the back of the line. You sigh, grabbing your phone and calling her again. She answers, but you can barely hear her over the thumping bass.

“Ry? I’m outside. They won’t let me in. Come out, and we can go home.”

“Wha? Where are yo—?”

Her voice cuts off as the call ends. You groan in annoyance, getting in the stupid long line to get in the shitty building.

The sense of panic sets in again as you wait. How do you get her home? What do you say? Do you let her speak? Do you wait until she’s sober to talk? Or do you yell at her now and hope she remembers? How the fuck are you going to get her home? Yoongi was right. But, fuck, you can’t get him involved in this. You’ve already gotten too close to him tonight. You can’t do it anymore.

You go to your contacts, pressing the call button and hating yourself already. It only rings twice before he picks up.

“Y/n? Are you okay? Are you still at the studio?” Your heart cracks at the voice laced with worry.

“No, Jungkook. I left already.”

“Where are you? Because you’re not at your apartment.”

“Have you been waiting there?” Your voice falters. The image of him waiting in your apartment while you’re on the couch in your studio getting fucked and almost confessed to by your group therapy buddy flashing in your mind makes you want to scream.

He stays silent, answering your question without saying a word.

“Kookie…I need your help.” You exhale a shaky breath, trying to stay focused.

“What happened? Did he do something?” There’s a certain bite in his voice that feels like an attack on you, but you set it aside, planning on stressing over it later.

“No, Koo. He didn’t do anything. It’s Ry. She’s at this club or bar or whatever, she’s shitfaced and called me, and I’m waiting outside, but I…I don’t know how to get her home.”

He gives it a moment after your voice trails off, finally speaking again after a while.

“You want me to come get you two?” His voice is softer, but still tense, and you hate it.

“Yes, please…” you quietly admit, and you can hear the sound of his keys moving as he tells you to send the address via text and to wait for him.

This feels too familiar.

“Jungkook?” You quickly speak up before he hangs up.

“Yes, y/n?”

“Please drive carefully.” you feel your stomach twist, “get here safely, okay?”

He doesn’t need to ask why you’re saying these things. He knows. You know he knows. He reassures you he’ll be okay, hanging up only when you’re ready, and you look back down at your phone as the call ends.

Five minutes later, you’re almost at the front of the line when you see Ryujin stumbling out of the building, looking around in confusion.

“Ry!” You shout as you finally escape the line, much to the satisfaction of the people behind you. You want to run to her, but she’s still a ticking time bomb, and you’re already on edge enough that you don’t want to risk her wrath even if she was the one that called you.

“Y/n!” She shouts back, tears streaming down her face as she runs to you. You let her hug you first, hesitantly hugging her back and only tightening your hold when she starts sobbing against your shoulder.

“Hey hey hey, I’m here. It’s okay, Ry. What happened?” You don’t expect an answer and don’t let go, just letting her desperately hold onto you and cry.

When she finally lets go of you, you guide her to sit on the curb. It’s gross, but it’s away from the club goers passing by, and it’s still within sight of the security guard. Your hands never leave her, one on her back and the other gripping one of hers like if you let go, she’d vanish from you too.

You stay silent for her, watching her battle with the thoughts in her head and the words behind her ruby-red lips. You look away, down the street to see if Jungkook’s car would be in view, but you wanted to give her more space.

“I don’t blame you.” Her voice cracks, and your neck almost snaps when turning back to her.

“What?” You’re afraid to ask in case it all goes wrong.

“For…for Kai’s death. I don’t blame you. I never did.” Her grip on your hand tightens, and the tears fall again across her beautiful face. “I know it’s not your fault. But I just…I needed someone to hate, someone that isn’t me.”

Her? Why? Why would she…?

“Ry, what do you mean someone that isn’t you?”

She finally looks up at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she relives memories you have no idea about. Moments she wishes she could forget or do over.

“It doesn't matter now.” She shakes her head, holding your hand close to her chest. “Please, y/n. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You’re my best friend and there’s no excuse for the things I said. Please don’t hate me. I can’t lose you, too.”

You look at your best friend. The girl that was born a day before you in the same hospital. The girl that asked to draw with you on the playground. The girl that yelled at anyone and everyone that dared say anything bad about you. The girl that held you as you cried over your first heartbreak. And your second, third, fourth…

The girl that, despite coming across as perfect to the world, bared her soul, fears, and insecurities to you one night after sneaking into her parents’ liquor cabinet. The girl that promised to be by your side for forever when your parents said you’d be nothing. The girl you watched fall in love with your brother, having the most beautiful and loving relationship with him.

The girl who fell apart just as badly as you did. But instead of seeking help, she burned the world around her down, starting with you.

Her name quietly escapes your lips, but before you can say anything else, Jungkook pulls up against the curb next to you. He quickly exits the car to squat down in front of you both, eyes meeting yours briefly before turning his attention to his sister.

He looks exhausted.

“Hey, Rybread. You okay?” He gently grabs her free hand, bringing her attention away from you and to him instead. She nods, a broken sob escaping when Jungkook helps her stand, you having to stand with her because her hand is still tightly gripping yours.

“Let’s get you two home, yeah?” He gently speaks to only her, still refusing to look at you for more than a second. You carefully pull your hand away from Ryujin, watching Jungkook help his sister enter the backseat. When she’s finally in, seatbelt on, head leaning back, eyes closed, he looks back at you.

You hate the sadness in those big beautiful brown eyes. Hate the dark bags forming underneath them. Hate that you’re probably the cause of some of it.

“Are you okay to sit in the backseat or do you need to be upfront?” His question is as monotone as he can make it, but you can still pick up on the notes of concern in his words.

You open your mouth to speak, eyes glancing between the backseat and the passenger’s seat, when Jungkook shuts Ryujin’s door a little harsher than necessary, causing you both to jump.

“Upfront it is. Come on.” He mumbles, opening the passenger’s side door before returning to the driver’s seat with a huff.

You get in only when he’s put his seatbelt on and turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. You put your seatbelt on, backpack across your lap and fingers toying with the straps for a moment before a big hand reaches for your left hand.

His fingers intertwine with yours, settling on his lap, his free hand on the steering wheel, effortlessly pulling away from the curb and driving off.

Your eyes stay on the road, trying to watch every car while simultaneously trying to remind yourself to breathe. At every stop light, Jungkook brings your joined hand to his chest, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand until the light turns green and you’re past the intersection.

You say nothing, forcing the fear deep down inside to deal with when you’re alone. Your right hand grips the door handle like you’re bracing for impact, and it takes everything in you not to scream to pull over. The last time you were in a car was on the way home from the funeral. You were so ready to jump out of the car on the highway, actually opening the door at one point, not caring what happened to you, only about getting out.

“You need to breathe, y/n.” His voice is gentle but still in that monotone voice. It doesn’t match the way his thumb is soothing over your hand or how tightly he’s holding it.

You hadn’t realized you were barely taking any breaths, afraid if you did, you’d scream or cry. You still don’t respond, only squeezing his hand in response as you take a deep breath, shakingly exhaling after.

“I’m trying. It’s just—” you look down for a moment, your free hand playing with the zipper on your back, “I’m too focused on not panicking. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” His voice is losing the monotone effect, and you sneak a glance at his face. His jaw is clenched, and he looks anything but soft, more stoic instead.

“I don’t know…I’m sure there’s a list of shit I need to apologize for that’s so long, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“The top, usually.” He’s quick to respond, and you have to fight the urge to give even the smallest smile.

“The top…the top says ‘I’m sorry you met me and got dragged into this.’”

“Well, that’s a stupid apology.” He says after a moment. “You didn’t know what would happen when we were kids. If you did, I’d have many questions. One being lottery numbers.”

You quietly laugh to yourself. Eyes jumping from the roads, to your hand in his, and his face that still won’t look at you. You’re partially relieved he’s keeping his eyes on the road.

“And I’m not sorry I met you. You’re insanely frustrating at times. You drive me to be a jealous mess of hopelessness plagued by unrequited love. But I’m not sorry I met you. Not even a little bit. I’d rather have you in my life than out of it.”

You stare at him, lips parting with no words able to form. He’s confessed in various ways so many times now, and it feels like a punch in the gut every time. This time, however, feels more like a stab to the heart.

“…it’s not hopeless, Jungkook.” You swallow thickly, looking away from him and focusing on his hand wrapped around your own instead. “And it’s not unrequited…”

“Feels a lot like it…”

You say nothing, the car stopping in the apartment complex.

You barely even registered the rest of the drive home once he started talking. Your breathing was steadied, your heart rate was racing, albeit for a different reason, and you weren’t trying to escape the car.

Jungkook gets out first, walking around to get to Ryujin sitting behind you. You quietly get out, watching him try to coax her awake, eventually giving up and handing you the keys before scooping her out of the car.

You lock the car when he’s got her, following behind inside to the elevator and to the apartment, neither speaking except for random gibberish from your tipsy sleeping best friend.

He sits her down on the counter in the bathroom while you grab her a change of clothes. He leaves the both of you alone so you can help her remove her makeup and do your best to take her through her beauty routine. She'd always go on about how she could never miss a day, walking you through each step for moments like this.

What feels like ages later, you finally emerge from the bathroom, letting her change in private, and head back down to the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the armrest of the couch with palms running across his face while you lean against the wall.

The atmosphere is awkward. You don’t know what to say, so you pull out your phone, remembering your spat with Yoongi.

Y/N (3:35 am): hey. I’m home. I hope you made it back okay. I’m really sorry about what I said. You didn’t deserve that.

You hit send and watch as it switches from delivered to read within seconds. The typing bubbles appear moments later.

Yoongi (3:35 am): Apologize with pie.

A shaky giggle escapes your lungs before you can catch it, and Jungkook scoffs.

Your head snaps up to the sound, wide eyes and body frozen. He shakes his head, eyes cast to the floor. You lower your gaze back to the phone, trying to decide what to type next when he finally speaks to you.

“So why didn’t Yoongi come with you to get Ry?” You look back up at him; he’s still trying to stay neutral, a stoic demeanor that doesn’t care.

“Koo–”

“I mean, it’s kind of a dick move to let a woman walk alone at this hour, isn’t it?” He crosses his arms, repositioning his stance as if he’s uncomfortable.

“I didn’t want him to come with me. He insisted but I yelled at him…” you sigh, briefly looking back at your phone before tucking it back in your pocket. “I didn’t want him to get involved in all of this.” you gesture all around you, mostly towards Ryujin’s door and Jungkook himself.

He stares you down, tilting his head to the side and even though he’s not directly in front of you or right next to you, his stare makes you feel small. It feels suffocating - like he’s hovering above you and you’re backed into a corner.

His eyes scan your face, your bruised lips, the very light, barely there yet hickies on your neck as well as the guilty expression. His eyes widen, and the stoic demeanor is gone, replaced by one you can’t quite read, but know all too well.

“It’s not just sex, is it? There are feelings there.” His question knocks the wind out of you, and you shrink down even more.

“I don’t know.” the only response you can bring yourself to say that won’t hurt either of you.

You were wrong.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Either you like him, or you don’t.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Ryujin’s door opens just as you do. She stands at the top of the stairs in the pajamas you picked out, and she looks exhausted, eyes swollen and puffy from crying. You rip your attention away from her brother when she mumbles your name.

You rush to grab her hand, bringing her back to her room and guiding her to her bed. She gets in, but the tears start streaming again.

“He’s really gone…” she whispers, pulling the covers to her chin.

You nod, Jungkook comes in after you with water and pills for her to take. Ryujin shakes her head.

“No. The smell. He’s gone. I could sleep because I could smell him in the sheets. Now it’s gone.”

This is the longest she’s spoken to you since before the crash. And you’re still scared of her reaction to your responses. So you tell her to wait, going back to her bathroom and forcing yourself to open the cabinet he took over when he kept staying the night, finding the little bottle you were hoping to find.

You were secretly hoping to break into her room one day to find the bottle and keep it for yourself. But you kept reminding yourself she probably needed it more.

When you come back, you tell her to give you her pillow, and she obliges. You take the cap off the cologne bottle, spraying the pillow lightly as it dangles in your hand away from you. You hand it back to her, smiling a little when she hugs it, taking a deep breath.

“It smells like him…” she murmurs, laying back down, pillow resting under her head.

“I know it’s not the same, but hopefully it helps enough.” You whisper, lightly petting her hair as her eyes close and a small smile forms.

“We should buy it in bulk. So it can always smell like him.” you let out a shaky laugh.

“I’ll get right on that, Ry. Now get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

You get up to leave the room, Jungkook starting to lead the way when a small hand wraps around your wrist. You turn to look at Ryujin who looks panicked.

“Y/n, you forgive me, right?”

You open your mouth to respond but, for what feels like the millionth time tonight, are cut off before you can form words.

“You do, right? You know I didn’t mean any of it. I would never. Please. Please say you forgive me.”

You say nothing, looking to Jungkook for help. He stands at the doorway, hands in his hoodie’s pocket, seemingly uninterested in this conversation. You sigh, turning back to her, gently grabbing the hand attached to your wrist to peel her off you, but her grip tightens.

“We’ll talk about this when you’re sober, Ry, okay? Get some sleep.”

“No. Not until you forgive me.”

“Ry.” your voice shakes, a piercing pain in your eyes as you can feel the tears forming.

“Y/n, please,”

“I…–”

“Ryujin, stop.” Jungkook interjects, both you and his sister looking towards the owner of the stern voice.

“Let her go. Go to bed. She’ll talk to you about it when you’re sober.”

You both stay silent, your eyes glued to her grip on your wrist, hers bouncing between you, her brother, and her hold on you. After a few moments, she finally lets go, laying back down and hugging her pillow.

“Okay. Tomorrow…” she whispers in defeat.

“Tomorrow.” you mimic the word, pulling her blanket back over her to keep her warm before finally shuffling out of the room, walking past Jungkook, who closes the door once you’re both out.

You run your fingers through your hair, steadying your breathing, so you don’t cry in front of Jungkook more than you already have.

You both lean against the back of the couch this time. Both are dead silent as you figure out who should speak first. Your eyes cast down to the floor, watching his feet shift as he tries to find a more comfortable stance.

“You shouldn’t forgive her.” You look up at him to see he was doing the same thing as you, eyes to the ground.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t forgive Ryujin.”

“Jungkook. She…she didn’t mean it—”

“No, y/n. Have you not heard the shit she’s been screaming at you? Have you not heard the shit she’s accused you of?” He turns to face you, his voice a harsh whisper.

“Do you not remember how fucking terrible she’s made your life the last two months? You’ve had to fucking sneak into your apartment, change your schedules to be the opposite of hers, so you don’t run into her.”

“I…” your words stumble over one another in your mind.

“She’s my best friend, Jungkook. She’s grieving. I…her world just got crushed. What do you expect me to do? Just sever all ties with her and leave? Leave her to be all by herself? And what about you? You’re her brother, Jungkook. If I do that with her, I do that with you. And I’m not going to do that. Not with the two people that mean more than anything to me.”

Fuck not again. Please don’t cry again.

“I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow. I won’t forgive her until I know she means it. I’m so fucking tired right now, so can we please just end this conversation?”

The words rush out in a few short breaths, tears still threatening to escape when you look at him. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. His facial expression holds many different emotions. His eyes are sad, angry, desperate, and scared.

“Fine.”

You fucked up again. Twice in one night. Way to go, y/n, you idiot.

“I’ll head home. Good luck.” He turns away from you, but before you can think it through, your hand grabs his wrist like his sister did to you moments ago.

“It…it’s almost three in the morning. Just stay here.”

You’re both staring at his wrist, captured by your fingers, and in the quiet, you give a small squeeze, pleading. But his next words feel like a direct stab to the heart.

“Is your boyfriend gonna be okay with that?”

“He’s not…”

“Please stop lying to me. Just admit there’s something there so I can try to move on, like really try.”

No.

Don’t move on.

You’re mine.

I won’t let you go.

“Koo…” the name barely falls from your lips. “I can’t.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s trapped you between his body and the back of the couch. Both hands, yours still clutching his wrist, cup your face and tilting you to look up at him.

“You can’t be honest with me? Or you can’t admit there’s something there with him?”

You close your eyes to prevent the tears, but they win, escaping down your cheeks only to be caught and wiped away by his thumbs.

Your name is a soft pleading whisper on his lips, making you want to crawl into a cave forever. You can only say the first thing that comes to your mind.

“Please…just stay.”

You feel his forehead press against yours, noses touching, lips mere inches away from his.

Just do it. Lean forward. His lips are right there. Just give in. You know it’s always going to be him.

Do it.

But you don’t, and neither does he, instead breathing out a heavy sigh, pulling away from you, and unwrapping your grip from his wrist.

“I can’t be your second anymore, y/n.”

“You’re not.” Just say it. Admit it. Fucking do it.

“I am, though. If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t hesitate. You wouldn’t look at me with all that fear in your eyes. Tell me, do you hesitate with him?”

You don’t respond, trying to find the best answer.

“Your silence is so loud, y/n.” He backs away from you, heading upstairs to your room to grab the extra blankets and pillows you’d usually have on standby for when he’d stay over. He walks back into the living room, ignoring your hurt expression.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and be out before you wake up.”

“Jungkook…”

“Stop, y/n. Just…end it there, okay?” you want to run to him, kiss him, tell him he’s number one. He will always be number one. Yoongi is nothing compared to him. You should. You should move your feet right now.

But you don’t.

You hesitate.

And instead, he sets up the bedding on the couch before looking at you again.

“Goodnight.” He turns off the living room light, covering the area in complete darkness as he lays down on the couch.

You sniffle, muttering a quiet apology before slinking away to the stairs to your room. Once the door is closed, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, screaming internally. You allow yourself five seconds to cry before opening your eyes and staring off into space in an attempt to silence the voices and the pain.

It doesn’t.

They just get louder.

You force yourself into your bathroom to turn on the shower. You watch yourself in the mirror as you slowly shed your clothing, piece by piece, like you’re removing everything that happened today with every fabric. Once you’re in your bra and underwear, you look back in the mirror at the bites and handprints on your hips where Yoongi had gripped you tight at one point.

The painting of the music notes on your thigh.

You feel sick.

You quickly shed the bra and underwear, throwing them in the trash before showering. You grab your body wash, squeezing out more than needed onto your loofah and scrubbing away at your skin.

You cry out in pain, not realizing you’re scrubbing yourself raw, trying to get the feeling of Yoongi off your skin. Anywhere he touched, breathed, or kissed suddenly felt like acid, and you needed it off you. You stay in the scalding hot shower for thirty minutes, trying to get him off your skin and out of your hair, muttering curse words the entire time.

When you finally leave the shower, you feel like you are running on autopilot. You change into some clean pajamas, dry your hair, and drag yourself through a quick skin routine, playing some music on your AirPods while doing so.

You sit on your bed, staring at your closed bedroom door. You want to open it and get on the couch with him, cuddle with him like you used to, tell him it’s always him, and just be with him in every way you can.

Stop hesitating.

You throw the blankets off you, forcing yourself out of bed and padding over to the bedroom door, opening it confidently and heading down the stairs.

But you stop halfway.

Your body stills as you listen to him lightly snoring, and you flash to a few weeks ago when he confessed to having trouble sleeping. He wouldn’t say why, he wouldn’t say if it was related to Kai, and he didn’t go any further in his explanation other than it’s hard for him to sleep lately.

So you back away from the doorway, leaving the door open, and crawl back in bed. You won’t be why he can’t get back to sleep just because you need him.

An hour later, you wake up to someone crying. You sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the tears you assume you’re shedding. But there’s nothing there. No tears, just a puffy and tired face.

You listen closer. It can’t be Ryujin. Her door is closed, and she’s out cold. It’s shockingly not you, which means it’s only one other person.

Jungkook?

You throw the blankets off of you, quietly rushing down the stairs and peaking into the living room. He’s on the couch, still asleep but sniffling and whimpering.

You tip-toe over to him as he lays there in his sleep, tears escaping closed eyes and body shaking in fear.

Is this what he was talking about?

Is this every night?

Why didn’t he say anything?

“Jungkook?” You try whispering his name, but he doesn’t respond. You try again, a little louder, and place a hand on his shoulder to gently shake him awake.

Gently, being the keyword.

It apparently wasn’t.

Jungkook wakes up terrified, smacking your hand away from him and cowering back into the couch in fear.

“Koo, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s y/n. I’m sorry. I’m so sor—.”

You’re pulled into a hug before you can finish apologizing, one hand grabbing your arm to pull you to him, the other wrapping around your shoulders. You instinctively crawl onto the couch, curling up with him as he buries his face in your neck, tears streaming down his cheeks as he hyperventilates in your arms.

You hold him as close as you can, your legs wrapped around him, acting as a weighted blanket.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” You whisper against his temple, wincing a little when the hand gripping your arm finds your back, grasping your shirt. His nails dig into the skin on the back of your neck.

You give him a few more minutes to panic in your arms before easing his face away from your neck, cradling his face in your hands.

“How often has this been happening, Koo?” His eyes close, shaking his head as he tries to bury back into your neck. You stop him, pulling further away.

“Jungkook, talk to me.”

“Almost every night…”

Not again.

“Why didn’t you say anything? To me? To Ryujin?”

He stumbles over a few words, trying to figure out the answer. His hands let go of your shirt before grabbing it again seconds later, as if he has to remind himself he has control and isn’t dreaming anymore.

“It’s nothing.”

“It's not nothing, Jungkook, if you’re having nightmares again every night...”

“They’re not nightmares.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow, “then what are they?”

“They’re just dreams, y/n.” He shuts down the conversation, and you have no choice but to follow along.

“Fine. Let’s go back to my bed and sleep there, then.”

“I’m fine down here.”

“I don’t care. I want to make sure you’re okay. Can I do that? You do it for Ry and me every day. Let someone else be there for you. Please?”

He lets out a heavy sigh before mumbling in agreement. You disconnect from him, getting off the couch and helping him get up. His eyes meet yours, and your heart cracks at the sight. His eyes are red, eyelids puffy from the tears he never shows. You frown, wrapping his hand in yours, keeping it close as you climb the stairs to your room.

He lets go of your hand as you both crawl into your bed, laying on your back to let him curl up against you. His face finds its way back between your neck and shoulder, and you can’t help the goosebumps that appear all over your body from his breath on your skin.

Neither of you say anything. Probably for the best.

You fall asleep in that position, Jungkook’s tattooed fingers mindlessly dancing along the side of your waist over your shirt. One hand tangled in his hair, softly massaging his head while your other hand rests on his forearm draped across your stomach.

For just a moment, you forget everything that’s wrong with this. For just a moment, it’s back before everything went to shit, and this was enough for both of you.

When you wake up the next morning, which was really a few hours later, you’re still in the same position. The only difference is Jungkook’s legs have tangled up with yours, and his hand found a way under your shirt, lightly holding onto your side. His touch feels scalding hot against your skin. The breathing on your neck gives you goosebumps. Your hands are still in the same position.

You’re about to wake him up when there’s a soft knock on the door before it slowly opens.

Ryujin enters quietly; her eyes cast to the ground like a child knowing she’s in trouble. You know that look all too well. It’s the same look Jungkook gave when he accidentally broke the bottle of one of your more expensive paints, letting it spill all over the floor.

Big round brown eyes, like a puppy pleading its innocence.

When she looks up, her eyes widen at seeing her brother wrapped around your body. She shoots you a questioning look, and you have no choice but to quietly whisper nightmare in hopes she doesn’t get it confused.

Her face softens with a frown at the realization of the word.

“That’s supposed to be my job…I’m supposed to be there for him when it happens.”

You sigh, your hand moving from his hair.

“We’re all still trying to figure this out, Ry. Don’t take it personally.”

“I’m not… I’m… I’m not. I just feel like I failed him. Like I failed you…”

“You’re not failing any—” You cut yourself off when Jungkook’s head moves, pressing his face even closer to your neck for a moment before his eyes open.

“Who are you talking to?” He mumbles, still half asleep. His voice is low and husky and it kills you that you have to ignore it, as well as ignore the way his hand squeezes your side as he readjusts to get comfortable.

“Ryujin’s here…”

He lifts his head to look around the room, tired eyes landing on his sister. His fingers dig into your side momentarily as the siblings make eye contact. Jungkook finally lets go of you, muttering a soft oh, and pulling away from you and out of the bed.

“I’m gonna make breakfast…” he speaks softly, giving his sister a small hug before turning back to you.

“Thank you…for earlier…” you nod in response, not sure what to say to either of them anymore.

When he leaves the room, there’s an awkward silence in the air. Ryujin’s gaze is locked on where her brother was just laying and yours is on her, trying to figure out what’s happening.

And then it hits you.

All the times she’d come over after a fight with another friend, a disagreement with Jungkook, one of the few fights with Kai, or just when all the pressures of life got too much. She’d crawl into your bed just like Jungkook did and wrap her body around yours and fall asleep in your arms.

You called it a Jeon Thing.

You opened your arms up hesitantly, second guessing if that’s what she’s thinking of. But you didn’t have to wait too long before her eyes lit up a little and she’s hurrying to crawl in next to you, replicating the position Jungkook was just in, except her head rests softly on your shoulder and the hand across your stomach is playing with the fabric rather than touching your skin.

You stay completely still, still terrified of her explosions. But they don’t come, instead she sniffles.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” You have to stay calm. Don’t give in too easily.

“I’m really fucking sorry, y/n”

“Be more specific.” You slow your breathing, making sure you’re not the one that explodes.

But maybe you should.

Ryujin buries her face in your shoulder before speaking.

“For everything. Being horrible to you. Blaming you. Saying the shit that I said…”

That’s it? That’s the apology?

Jungkook’s words from last night loop in your head rapidly, and you’re speaking before you can stop yourself, sitting up and dislodging her, forcing her to sit up facing you.

“You accused me of killing my brother, Ryujin. My brother. The one fucking person I could always count on. The one person in my family that believed in me and encouraged me to do what I wanted to do. You called me a murderer. You said it should’ve been me, Ry. You said you’d rather I have died instead of Kai. You said that about your best friend. Me. Do you hear how fucked up that is?”

Her eyes well up with tears, yours already escaping like a pro, as she fists the blankets in her hands, scared to look up.

“I…I’m sor—”

“Ry, I’m terrified of you. You know that, right? I have to fucking sneak into our apartment. I changed my schedule at school to avoid you. I fucking went to the studio last night because I never want to come home. I stay with Yoongi a few times after group therapy until I think you might be asleep because, as stupid of a decision that is, it hurts less than coming home to my best friend telling me I murdered my fucking brother.”

Ryujin opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She continues pulling at the fabric of the sheets in front of her as you watch the gears in her mind turn, trying desperately to come up with some form of words.

This was always her weakness. Being told she did wrong, being told she fucked up, and there wasn’t some easy fix. One time in high school, she was so sleep-deprived from studying the night before a midterm, that she mismarked every answer on the scantron, thinking the answers were for the question before. When the teacher told her she had failed, she lost all ability to function, too shocked to speak. You had to talk to the teacher to find out what was wrong, begging him to let her retake it the next day.

But this isn’t high school. This isn’t a test she can just retake. There is no fix for this. The only thing she can do is accept that she fucked up.

The silence is deafening, save for the sound of Jungkook downstairs in your kitchen making food and the morning hustle and bustle outside. She keeps trying to speak, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to tolerate.

“Ry…” she stays frozen. “Ry, look at me.” You grab both of her hands, stopping her from potentially ripping your sheets. When she finally looks up, tears running down her face, you give her a tiny comforting smile.

“I love you, Ryujin. You know I do, and I always will,” you start, and she whispers I love you, too back, smiling through the tears. “Our bond is unbreakable, and you and I both know we will always be there for each other through thick and thin. But this? The things you said? Ry, I can’t just easily forgive you when you say sorry.”

“I…I know. But what do I do? How? How do I fix this?”

“You can’t. That’s the problem. This is something that only time can fix, and I wish that wasn’t the case. But I’m scared of being around you right now, Ry. Even right now, I’m afraid you’ll launch an attack and spew vile accusations at me.”

“No. I won’t. I won’t do that. Ever again.”

You smile, but it falters fast.

“I don’t think it’ll be okay until you take the initiative to get help. Talk to someone, Ry—a professional. And stop drinking so much, eat something, design your pretty dresses again, work on the showcase, and take time for yourself. It sucks, it’s scary, and it sounds miserable, I know. But until you come back to being my Ryujin? I can’t do this with you anymore.”

Her eyes widen, hands gripping yours.

“What does that mean?”

Suddenly it’s hard to look at her. You’ve been sitting on this decision for a while but didn’t think you’d ever have to make it officially.

“I think it might be better for us both if I move out for a bit…”

“…no”

“Ry…” she shakes her head repeatedly. “We need to figure this out separately. I can’t baby you into getting help. And you can’t deal with me and my bullshit while you’re trying to heal. I’ll still be here when you need me. I’ll be here if you need help with your project. I’m not leaving, leaving. I could never leave you. You’re my person.”

“But where are you gonna go?”

“I…don’t know. Maybe the studio?”

“But there’s no shower there.”

Fuck. There isn’t.

“What if you stay with Jungkook?”

Your face heats up at the idea of living with Jungkook, but your stomach drops at the idea of being so close to Kai’s stuff.

“I don’t think I can…”

“He’s miserable, you know.” Her voice softens, and her hands move out from under yours to be the ones holding on this time.

“I think he’s afraid to be alone. He hasn’t talked about Kai unless someone starts the conversation, but he shuts it down fast. He’s so focused on you that I don’t think he’s realized how much help he needs. Maybe staying with him can help.”

“I didn’t ask him to focus on me.” You try not to sound defensive. She knows that, choosing to ignore the tone.

“We both know he didn’t choose to. It’s a part of who he is. You are a part of who he is, no matter what.”

Are you, though? Or is he a part of who you are? He could replace you so easily if you just let him go. You know that. He must know that. Maybe that’s why he wants you to tell him to move on. That you and Yoongi are a thing.

He wants to replace you with anyone who makes him less sad.

Anyone but you.

“Hey,” Ryujin’s voice cuts through your thoughts, your eyes looking up at her in a panic. “I see where your mind is right now. Stop whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“But—”

“I don’t care. Whatever you’re telling yourself to make yourself think he wouldn’t want to have you by his side every moment of every day is a lie, and you know it.”

You don’t respond, mind running a mile a second, and all you want to do is go back to sleep.

“I…I understand if you feel you need to move out and get some space from me temporarily. I would never hold that against you, y/n. But please go with someone I know so I can know you’re okay. What even is a Yoongi?”

Your body freezes at his name. Of course she doesn’t know Yoongi. Of course she doesn’t know you’re sleeping with someone from group therapy. Of course she doesn’t know you went to the studio with him last night and fucked on your couch while you only thought about Jungkook.

“A mistake. I think…” your gaze stays focused on Ryujin’s hands holding yours, eyes burning from the tears threatening to return for the nth time.

“Y/n…you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” She’s careful not to sound judgmental, but you can still feel it.

“No. No. I’m…I’m not.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes tight. “I’m trying not to. It’s just sex. But last night…I fucked up. And then you called. And then we argued. And then Jungkook…”

She stays silent, and it drives you crazy that you can’t read her mind.

“I’m gonna end it with him. Whatever it is. I can’t…keep doing this. I’m tired, Ry. I’m so fucking tired.”

“I know, babes. And I know a good amount of it is my fault, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out as her thumbs rub back and forth on the back of your hands just like Jungkook was doing last night.

“What if I temporarily move out instead? You stay here. I’ll stay with Jungkook and stay in Kai’s room. You can stay here and try to heal on your own terms. It’ll be less stressful for you. You don’t always have to be the one making changes to your life for others, y/n. Let us make changes instead.”

You finally look up at her. Both of you have tear-stained faces, but she’s holding a smile that breaks your heart.

“Ry…”

“I’m doing it. I’ve decided.”

You smile back at her briefly.

“Are you sure you’re even ready to go in his room? I went to his studio last night and couldn’t breathe.”

She pauses momentarily, eyes on the ceiling as she thinks.

“I think…I think I’m ready. I mean… No one will ever be with something like this, right? It’s always going to be scary. It’s always going to hurt. Even the smallest task will sometimes feel like a punch in the gut, right?” She takes a deep breath, seeing you smile again.

“I miss him. I think being around his stuff can help me.” she quietly speaks.

“Yeah?”

She smiles, nodding. There’s something in her expression that is still broken. Something you must not know about. But you don’t question it. Everyone has their secrets. You tell yourself that she’ll talk about it when she’s ready..

She doesn’t let you try to dissuade her, instead getting off your bed and dragging you to the kitchen where Jungkook has put together a full breakfast.

He turns to you both, eyes widening at your hand in hers before looking at you.

“Everything good?” He asks slowly. You nod silently, letting go of her hand to grab a plate and scoot past him to pile some pancakes on with some eggs.

“Hopefully soon, yes,” Ryujin answers for you, looking nervously at her brother. “But I’m moving in with you for a bit. Until we figure out how to be, I guess…” she copies your moves, grabbing a plate and scooting past her befuddled brother.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She wanted to move out to put some space between us. I offered instead. I’m going to stay in Kai’s room…”

“But…” he starts, but you interrupt.

“But we haven’t gone in there yet. We’re gonna do that tomorrow morning. If you want to join, we can do it together. Maybe it’ll help you, too.”

“Yeah, JK. Y/n said you’ve been having nightmares again. And I know you’ve been sleeping on our couch more than your bed. Maybe having someone else there can help you?”

Jungkook stares at you both, sitting on opposite sides of the table with the same amount of food on your plates. Neither looking at him. Both making decisions without him. He grips the counter with both hands, pushing down every emotion. You almost miss it when you look up.

“Jungkook? Are you okay?” You move to get up, but you hesitate, again, when he closes his eyes and nods.

“I’m fine.”

Liar.

“Don’t you have group therapy tomorrow morning?” He changes the subject back to you, an easy task for him. It’s easier to focus on you, Ryujin, school, work, anything and everything but himself.

Your eyes drop back down to your food, pushing it around.

“I’m not going.” You state, hoping he doesn’t question it further.

But of course, it’s Jungkook.

“Why not?”

Your chest tightens, your throat closing in on itself. When did it get so hot? Are you sweating? Is that your heart or your brain pounding?

“I don’t feel like going.” You try sounding confident, but your voice shakes, betraying you.

“Y/n.” Your eyes meet his, begging him to drop it.

“Jungkook, if she doesn’t want to go, she’s not going. Let her make decisions for herself.”

“I’m not telling her what to do, Ry. I’m trying to help her.”

“Sounds like the same thing.”

Both of you, stop. Please.

“It’s not, though. If she wants to learn to grieve and move on in her own way, that’s what she’ll do. You can’t control her.”

“Well, obviously, but—”

Snap.

Your fist slams down on the table, dishes rattling and silencing the room.

“Please stop! Both of you. Stop talking about me like I’m not here. I’m right fucking here. Right here.”

You’re so tired of crying, of feeling. It’s exhausting. Every single little thing makes you want to cry. It’s ridiculous.

“Jungkook, I’m not going. I’ll go to the next one, and I still have my regular appointment with Dr. Adams on Monday. But I’d rather help Ry, okay?” You wait for him to nod in understanding before turning to his sister.

“And Ry. He is trying to help. He’s been pushing me to do what I want to avoid, and I appreciate it. I’d still be curled up in my room if it wasn’t for him. So if he has to be pushy, it’s for a reason. Leave it.”

She nods, and everything goes silent.

This is why you need space.

This is suffocating.

“I have to get ready for class. I have to head back to the studio and pick up my canvas, so I need to leave in twenty minutes…” you get up from the table, rinsing the plate before placing it in the dishwasher.

“Thank you for breakfast, Koo. It was delicious.” You try walking past him, but a hand lands on your stomach, preventing you from leaving.

“Do you want a ride? You seemed more or less okay with it last night.”

You should say no. You want to distance yourself from everyone right now. You need to distance yourself. Everything is happening all at once, and you should say no, walk to the studio, and walk to campus.

But it was easier being in a car with him.

But you should say no anyway.

“Okay…I’ll get ready quickly.” You whisper, walking past him when his hand moves.

You hear the two of them whisper as you climb the stairs, but you’re too tired to care, so you slink back to your room. You grab your phone to charge it while you get ready, ignoring the notifications glaring at you as you plug it in and walk away.

When it’s time to leave, Ryujin is already back in her room, making a list of things to bring to Jungkook’s while he’s sitting on the couch, keys in hand.

The walk to his car is quiet. Getting in is just as silent, but he repeats the night before, grabbing your hand in his and holding it close to his chest through every intersection it takes to get to the studio. When he parks in his usual spot, his squeeze tightens on you, head lolling back against the headrest.

He looks nervous. He feels nervous. His hand is getting sweaty while his grip switches between a death grip and shaking, barely holding on.

“Jungkook?” You inquire softly, waiting for him to give some sign that he's okay. “Do you wanna come in?”

He exhales a small breath, shaking his head.

“I don’t think I can.”

You shift in your seat, removing your seatbelt and grabbing the hand wrapped around yours. His eyes find yours, and you’re right. He’s scared.

Is this how you looked last night?

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Koo. It sucks. The second you step into the studio, you’re back at the moments before finals. You go into his studio, and you fully expect him to be in there working his ass off on whatever assignment he has. But he’s not. And it’s like having to relive that night all over again. And it fucking sucks.” You sniffle, playing with his tattooed hand.

“And I know the last thing you want me to do right now is mention Yoongi,” he groans out a small laugh, and the corner of your lips twitch into a smirk, “but he made a good point, Koo. The longer you hold off on doing this, on going into the rooms, reliving the memories with him, talking about him, the more it’s going to hurt you.”

He sighs, closing his eyes. “I’m going to pretend he didn’t say that and that it’s just you being all wise.”

“Well, I am all wise. We’ve established this many times.” You both grin, enjoying the brief moment of normalcy before he agrees to go in with you. His hand never leaves yours, but this time you’re the one rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand.

When you both reach the the front door, you unlock it, letting go of his hand. You give him a second before he opens the door fully, letting him step inside first.

You watch him from the front door as he stands in the middle of the living area, eyes scanning every inch of the room. When he turns back around, facing you, his eyes cast to his studio room.

You can’t decipher the look on his face.

He’s so good at pretending to be okay that it makes it impossible to read him sometimes. He looks as if he’s dazed; his mind is far away from the studio to somewhere you don’t know.

“You good?” You hesitantly ask, taking two steps closer to him.

He blinks a few times, eyes finding your worried expression before offering a small smile.

“I’m okay. I need to get something from my room. A lens I need for class.”

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, expecting him to move, but he’s standing perfectly still. “Well, I’m going to get my canvas and clean up really quickly since I left abruptly last night…” you quietly walk to your room, turning to see him finally at his door, fingers hesitating over the pin pad before finally putting in the number and walking in.

You enter your room, your canvas still leaning against your old ones. Black and white still. Paints dried up on the palette, and brushes stiff as a result. You dump the brushes into a jar of water and the palette onto the desk, making a mental note to return later tonight to clean up correctly. You swear you see a hint of purple as you put the canvas in a tote after ensuring it was dry.

You turn and are greeted by the cat painting Yoongi was obsessed with. Should you still give it to him? Even if you plan on ending things? You don’t want it, and it would look good in a cat cafe. If anything, you could give it to the cafe directly.

God, you don’t want to talk to Yoongi. But you don’t want to ghost him completely. And before the sex, he was actually starting to be a good friend and an excellent partner in helping each other through your traumas.

You look at the couch, resisting the urge to deep clean every inch of it. Maybe a new couch. One that won’t make you feel dirty and wrong every time you look at it.

You have to apologize. And you have to cut ties with him.

You have to.

You’re just going to hurt him in the end.

You’re so good at hurting people.

You hear the beeping of a keypad, turning your head to the doorway before grabbing your tote, setting the cat painting aside, and leaving your room.

Kai’s door is open.

“Jungkook?” You softly call out, leaving the tote on the couch in the living area. You call out his name again, slowly approaching your brother’s room. Your heart breaks at the sight.

Jungkook’s sitting on the small couch with his knees pressed to his chest and his arms around his shins. His head is buried in between his knees, but he’s silent.

“Koo?” You try again, slowly approaching, moving some of Kai’s scattered papers out of the way, and sitting next to him.

When he still doesn’t respond, you stop trying. You’ll sit and wait by his side, ready to be there for whatever he needs.

The most important rule in helping someone grieve: never push them to grieve how you think they should. Just be there when they’re ready.

A mantra of sorts drilled into your brain in group therapy.

His body finally moves, his back rising suddenly as he takes a deep breath before slowly letting it out and raising his head. He doesn’t look at you, instead looking at the room he’s in. The same way you did the night before.

His face is flush, like he was forcing himself to hold his breath. His eyes are dry, and he looks exhausted.

“How did it go last night, coming in here?” He finally asks, head leaning back to rest on the couch.

You flatten your hands on the couch, sliding them back and forth to feel the texture. It’s a nice distraction to keep your hands apart and not claw at your skin.

“I had a full blown panic attack. Felt like I was dying. Like my brain was on the verge of exploding, and I kept hearing voices screaming, and I couldn’t see.” You let out a nervous laugh, keeping your eyes on the couch.

“Voices?”

“Uh…yeah. Like, like my own thoughts, but amplified. I don’t know how to explain it…I’d rather not try, honestly.”

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, a hand stopping one of yours and softly holding onto it.

“How’d you get through it?”

“Jungkook…”

“What?”

“Stop…doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

“Diverting. You already know the answer. When I say Yoongi got me through it, you’re going to say something about how I feel about him, and then we’ll fight. You know it’s always going to be you in the end. I don’t understand why you keep saying it’s so one-sided when it’s clearly not. It’s just messy and complicated right now, okay? I don’t want to have that scene play out again. Specifically not here.”

He doesn’t respond, instead, staring at your hand in his, his thumb running over your ring finger. Your eyes flick up to his face, jaw clenched tight and eyes sad. There’s no sparkle in them like there usually is, and you’re not sure how long they’ve been so dull.

How have you not noticed that?

“Have you allowed yourself to cry yet?” You hesitate to ask, but you have to. It’s been months since Kai passed, and you haven’t seen him cry since the crash or last night in his sleep. You want to be wrong. Please let him tell you you’re wrong.

“No.” His voice cracks as he shakes your head, and you can feel your heart drop with it.

“Koo. You have to let it out at some point. Or else you’ll be stuck and have those nightmares forever.”

You turn your body to face him better, bringing your entwined hands to your lap.

“I’m scared.” He shuts his eyes tight.

“Scared of what?”

“If I cry, I’m scared I’ll never stop.”

“Koo…”

And that’s all it takes for the dam to break, tears streaming down his face as he begins to sob. He buries his head back into his knees and lets the floodgates open. You do nothing. You don’t want to. You want him to finally let it out and focus on himself and his own grief.

So you sit.

And you wait. His hand stays in yours as he finally lets go of months of emotional trauma, stress, and fears.

You’ve only seen Jungkook cry like this once. It was after his parents divorced just before he graduated high school. He had so much going on, from finishing up high school to getting accepted to the same school as you and Ryujin. He had finals, projects, an internship, a part-time job, and a social life.

All at the same time as he watched his parents argue, his mother packing up her stuff and moving out the day after his graduation. It became too overwhelming for him. He pushed everything down as far as he could and pretended he was fine.

But you could see it in his eyes. Just like now, that sparkle was gone. He barely spoke, and if he did, it was about anyone else. He just focused on finishing the day and praying no one talked to him the entire time.

Until one day, you both went to a street fair to celebrate high school being over. There were a few booths with carnival games and one that let you break plates. You dragged him over, encouraging him to destroy some ceramic dinnerware and let it all out. He did, but after breaking a good handful of plates, it was as if something in him snapped.

You rushed him out of the booth, taking him to a darkened alley to fully cry in peace. He hated crying in front of others. He hated the idea of people perceiving him as weak. You’ve told him many times it doesn’t, but you still take him somewhere quiet and safe when you know he’s upset.

He cried in your arms in that alley for thirty minutes, finally letting you take him home and having him fall asleep in your arms.

You’re pulled from the memory when Jungkook’s hand pulls yours closer. You shift on the couch, wrapping your arms around him as he curls into your side. His tear stained face finds its home in the space between your neck and shoulder, his hands tightly grabbing at any part of you he can like you’re his lifeline.

In a way, you are, to him at least.

Just like he’s yours.

He cries in your arms for what feels like fifteen minutes, random words stumbling out of his sobs, followed by questions that will never get answered and wishes that will never be granted. You continue to stay silent, only ever whispering that he’s okay, he’s safe, and to let it out. Every now and again kissing the top of his head when he grew silent, clutching him harder when the sobs returned stronger.

Somewhere in the living room, your phone rings. You ignore it.

Not right now.

It rings again. You bury your face in Jungkook’s messy curls, focusing on the smell of his conditioner instead.

Please stop.

On the third call, Jungkook lifts his face from your neck just enough to look at you.

“You should get that.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. Your hand softly cradles his cheek as you shake your head.

“Nah. My top priority right now is making sure you’re okay.”

He smiles. It’s broken and weak, but it’s there as he pulls away from you, sitting up straight and rubbing his hands across his puffy face.

“I’m okay.” He mumbles behind his hands, “I’m puffy and probably need to rehydrate. But I’m okay.”

“We can wrap an ice pack in a towel to reduce the puffiness. And there’s water in the fridge, I’m sure.” You mimic how he sits, brushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Mmm. We should do a spa day. Once you and Ry are a little better, that is.”

“I look forward to it. Full on facemasks and mani/pedis.” It's a soft whisper. You do genuinely hope there will be a time when you three can go back to normal. Or as normal as you can without your brother.

“You sure you’re okay, Koo?” He nods, but you shake your head. “I need you to promise me you’ll stop blocking everything out. We’re all hurting. We’re all scared of a future without him. We’re all going through this together. You don’t have to always try to be the big brave hero.”

“But then what am I? I feel like I need to be something or do something so I’m not…so I don’t—”

“Remember that he’s gone?”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes dancing around his best friend’s studio where he’s spent countless hours pacing the floor while Kai was at his desk or on the couch talking about complete nonsense, complaining about Ryujin or ranting about your latest relationship failures.

“Yeah…” his head drops, eyes falling to the floor in defeat. “I just want to forget. Focusing on anything else helps with that.” You stop yourself from reaching out to touch him again, instead placing both your hands on your lap, twiddling your fingers in place.

“Jungkook?” You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows knit together as you focus on your hands, carefully forming the words in your brain before speaking again.

“Kai’s gone. He died. I was there. I held his hand as he died. So, I understand wanting to forget that he’s gone and distracting yourself from remembering. But I relive that moment every day. I don’t have that same luxury you do of being able to forget. I wake up every morning thinking this is a sick nightmare and that he’ll be on the couch or in the kitchen stealing our food. But then he’s not. And I have to remember what it felt like to hold his hand for the last time. I have to remember watching them take his body away.”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the feeling of Jungkook’s hands holding yours makes you flinch, causing the tears to fall on them.

“So please, please, understand what I’m saying when I say how lucky you are that you have that option to forget, but also how ridiculous and rude it is to Kai to want to forget that he’s gone.”

“Y/n…that’s…I would nev—”

“He was your best friend, Jungkook. He always will be in a way. He would've been your brother-in-law once he and Ry got married. Don’t do that disservice to your best friend by trying to forget that he died. Forget the fights, forget the disagreements and all the bad moments you had with him. That’s fine. But don’t forget Kai, okay?”

He remains silent, lips shut tight, and eyes watering again. But he nods, squeezing your hands with his as a quiet okay escapes his lips.

Your phone rings a fourth time, and you groan, letting go of Jungkook’s hands and getting up. You stomp over to your phone and glare at the screen.

Mother (7) Missed Call

Mother (12) Text Message

Father (1) Text Message

Yoongi (3) Text Message

You put your phone on silent, slipping it into your backpack all the way at the bottom.

The door to Kai’s room closes, and Jungkook appears behind you.

“Was that Yoongi?” His voice carries no negative tone for once, no malice or anger. You shake your head, picking up the canvas tote that’s quickly taken away from you by Jungkook.

“My mother…” your voice trails as you watch him walk towards the front door. He grimaces in your direction when your feet finally catch up to him.

“Gross.” He steps out of the studio, letting you lock the door. You both silently head down the elevator and back to his car, where he waits until you both have your seatbelts on and your hand is back in his when he pulls out of the parking space.

“What does she want now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Probably asking when I’m gonna come back home and get a real job now that they’re left with the lesser child.” You scoff, eyes on the road.

“That or she already wants me to make plans for Christmas. Which I don’t want to think about at all.”

Jungkook smirks, bringing your hand to his chest at a stop light. It takes you a second until you realize you’ve made it several blocks without your heart rate skyrocketing. Your eyes have been watching every car just like last night, but it feels less stressful.

Because it’s him. It’s always him.

“Why is it always you?”

“Hmm?” The light turns green, and he steps on the gas. The feeling of panic is still there. But you’re able to push it back down. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t question you further as he pulls into the school’s parking lot.

He exits the car first, helping you out next and putting your canvas tote on his shoulder. His hand finds yours again as you both walk to the art building in silence.

“So when do I get to see the painting?” He questions, handing you the tote.

“At the showcase.” You smile at his pout.

“But that's months away.”

“Exactly. I don’t think I want anyone important to see any of it until then. It’s hard enough that I can’t see the colors right now. I don’t need other people seeing whatever mess I’ve made.”

“I’m sure it’s beautiful. Just like everything you create.” His hand squeezes yours, and you smile at the feel of his hand wrapped around yours. Your safety blanket.

“I can’t wait to see your showcase next year. It’s gonna be great. You should use that one photo you took when we all went on that hike and saw all those stars.” You grin, the memory is still so bright and real in your mind. The meteor shower you wanted to see so badly that you convinced the three of them to hike up a mountain with you just to see it.

“You and that damn mountain. You bamboozled us.” Jungkook groans.

“Excuse me. You said you had fun and would do it again!”

“Only if you wanted to. And had a better reason. And without Ryujin. She complained the entire time. Even Kai was getting annoyed.”

“Okay. We’ll go back, just the two of us, the next time there’s a good meteor shower.”

“It’s a date.”

You nod, but don’t respond. That phrase suddenly has such a bigger meaning than it did before. Instead, you focus on climbing the stairs to the third floor and approaching your classroom. His voice eventually breaks you out of your racing thoughts.

“Do you want a ride home tonight?”

“I need to actually clean my brushes from last night. So I’ll be at the studio. Besides, isn’t your last class later than mine?”

“Fair. I can come get you after? Or bring food?” Your silence makes him panic, “or not. I just hate the idea of you out on your own so late…that’s all. I’m not trying to control you or anything.”

“No, no. I get it. Yeah. Come by after class. That’s fine. I just. I don’t know. Sorry.” You shake your head, gripping the straps to the tote. Confused, Jungkook opens his mouth to ask you to clarify what you’re saying, but the sound of his and your name from down the hall stops him.

Your eyes find the source of the shout and land on Joshua and Jimin. Joshua glances down to your hand in Jungkook’s before shooting you a smirk. You let go out of instinct and readjust your grasp on your tote with both hands and avoid how Jungkook looks at you.

“Hey, Jimin. How’s your second to last year so far?” You smile at him. His face flashes from confusion towards Jungkook to the same friendly smile you have towards him.

“It’s great! Frustrating moments when my equipment decides not to function, but that’s expected. How—, uh, how’s your painting?”

You can’t blame him for sounding hesitant. You haven’t seen Jimin since the funeral, and with the way everything that happened that day, you’d be treading lightly too.

“It’s…going. I’m trying to change the way I paint. I’m not excited about the showcase, though.”

“Oh, yeah. Taehyung’s been going on about it. You two have a lot to do, huh?” You smile at the mention of his boyfriend, missing the nights you’d invite them out to drink with the rest of the sQuad.

“Yeah. I’m not sure how to get it all done in time. But I can’t wait to see what Taehyung does.”

He smiles in return, and it’s suddenly awkward. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say next. Jimin looks just as lost, and Joshua is on his phone. Jungkook sniffs for the sake of making a noise.

“We should go out to that karaoke bar again soon.” His voice breaks the silence, the three of you looking up at him.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Joshua chimes in, “but first, we have a class that starts in forty-five seconds. See ya, friends.” He grabs your wrist, spinning you around in the direction of the classroom, dragging you with him.

“Shua, class starts in ten minutes. Not forty-five seconds.” You whine as he sits you down in your seat, sitting next to you after going across the room and coming back with two blank canvases, setting one on his easel and the other on yours.

“I know. But I needed to get you away from Jungkook so you could tell me why y’all were holding hands.” He grins, turning to face you once his stuff is set up.

“This isn’t elementary school, Joshua. We can hold hands without it being anything.” You glare at him, slowly pulling your tools out of your bag, and placing them neatly on the table next to your easel. You grab a second easel, a much smaller one, and place it next to the big window.

“While that is true, y/n, it’s you and Jungkook. Everything either of you do with one another means something. Always has been, always will.”

You look down at your canvas tote with a frown. He’s not wrong. That’s how you two are. Every action, every sentence, every thought. It all means something. Even if that something is meaningless to others, it’s the world to you both.

“I guess…” you sigh, opening the tote and pulling out your canvas. Suddenly very hyper aware others can see it as you set it down on the easel by the window.

“Oh, holy shit, that’s beautiful, y/n.” Joshua says, standing up to look closer, “the colors are stunning.”

“Are they…?” You squint at the painting. Some colors are just barely visible. You see the purple a little stronger, and a bit of what you think is yellow? You’re still not sure.

“Yeah, the way you blended the green with the—”

“No! Don’t tell me. I wanna wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For when I can see the colors again.” You grin, actually feeling hopeful for once. Joshua smiles back, patting your shoulder and sitting back down. Before Joshua can question further, Professor Varon walks in exactly as class is set to begin.

“Okay, everyone! Let’s get to it! The first week is done, and now down to serious business!”

The class goes by so fast you’re not even sure you registered any information in your brain. You spent too much time glancing between the professor and your finished painting. At one point, while walking the room, he stopped by you, eyes on the finished piece as he asked you to stay after class.

Joshua packs up his stuff, saying goodbye to you with the promise of getting together for clothes shopping in a week or two. Professor Varon makes his way to your seat next to the big window once everyone is out.

“So, how was the process?”

“The what?” You look up at him, his eyes still on the painting. “Oh. Uh, shit? Yesterday after I left I went to our shared studio for the first time…”

How was that only yesterday?

“And how’d that go? Being in a place you used to spend a lot of time with him in?”

“Horribly?” You let out an exasperated laugh, “I went in his room, had a panic attack, made a horrible decision, woke up, sat in his room talking to nothing, and then finished the painting.” He gives it a beat of silence before he smiles.

“So it sounds like it went pretty well.” You both laugh as you slowly put your stuff away.

“I guess so. It felt good painting…I just kinda zoned out for a few hours, and when I came back, it was done more or less.”

“And what about the colors?”

“Joshua said there was green in it. I can kind of see purple, and I think there’s yellow. But I’ve decided to stop straining to see it.”

“That’s a good idea,” he smiles at you, “just keep painting, y/n. You’ll see it again.”

“Thank you…I’m trying.”

“That’s all you can do sometimes.” He shrugs, walking back to his desk as you put the canvases back in your tote. “And put that one in your showcase. Everyone should see it.”

Hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think, any ideas on where it’s going or any questions. The next chapter is Ryujin’s POV and oh boy is that not gonna be fun to write. 😖

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zcls · 2 years

Text

first kiss, z.cl

synopsis you and chenle have been friends since you could begin to speak; every memory has him attached to it. when he asks you to teach him how to kiss before his first date with the girl of his dreams, although you’ve never kissed anyone before, you agree. after a kiss or two— feelings come to the forefront. genre gn!reader x chenle, childhood friends to lovers!au, warnings very small angst (?), mentions of comparing oneself to someone else, making out, kissing chenle for the first time! chenle is a bit handsy when it comes to kissing; nothing too serious! word count 2.7k

chenle was utterly infatuated; not with you, but with someone else. you saw it in his eyes whenever he spoke about the girl that he had been talking to for the past three weeks. you saw it in the spring in his step whenever he walked through your door for saturday movie nights that you two had shared every weekend since you were fourteen, and through the way he canceled on you the previous saturday because he was taking her out on an extravagant date. he viewed her as entirely perfect and although you had never met her in person— you started to see her as perfect too.

the problem with seeing her as perfect from all that you heard from your best friend’s point of view lied within the fact that your heart had been in his palms since your first day of freshman year of high school, when he locked his arm with yours, reassuring you that you would be okay; that he would be by your side through it all. his smile was warm, his eyes were a galaxy full of love for you—a friendly love— and stars all combined. you fell right then, and since, you haven’t been able to pick yourself back up; you haven’t been able to fully piece yourself back together.

now, you sit next to chenle as he types on his phone, an adoring smile plastering his visage that you had come to love so much. the hearty chuckle that escaped his heart-shaped lips caused your heart to ache— you only wished you could make him display such emotions. only in your dreams, that’s the only place where you could make him as happy as she did.

“y/n?” chenle asked, tearing himself away from his phone for a brief second to look over at you, who was shaking unknowingly, from the upset that filled your heart and the thoughts that played throughout your head as if a broken record.

“yes, chenle?” you questioned, turning around to face him. his eyes were still full of that friendly love, but there was a glint of concern that now filled his orbs. your heart ached more at the sight, knowing he could somewhat feel the pain that plagued your heart and filled your every thought. you wondered how he knew you so well; to be able to look at you and instantly know that something was out of the ordinary.

he knew you like the back of his hand though, truth be told. he knew the way your hands trembled when you were upset and how the movements of your hands changed when you were happy; you would do things softer, in a quicker motion, especially when you wrote in your journal. he knew that your lip quivered when you were about to break down in tears and how your eye twitched when you were angry. he knew everything about you, although you didn’t notice— he always paid attention to you, to everything about you.

he also knew that you hated when others asked about how you were feeling— you hated the intrusion. chenle knew that you’d come to him eventually; that you would explain how you are feeling and why you feel such a way. that was the beauty about your friendship; communication was always there.

so, he was going to ask you the next thing that appeared within his mind. he wanted to know how to kiss— how to give someone a genuine kiss, like how they’re portrayed in movies. he wanted his first kiss with the girl he’d been texting to be absolutely perfect, and you were just the person to go to. you were his best friend; you always helped him in times of need and you were always there with him, no matter what.

“do you know how to kiss someone?” he questioned, “like, the right way?” he asked, his face seeming full of anxiety. he had never asked anyone such a question and asking the person he’s had by his side since he was just a little boy seemed to make him even more fearful. he tapped his knee, wishing that he didn’t screw anything up within his relationship with you.

“you don’t know how to kiss her, do you?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, smiling at the boy in front of you whose cheeks were now tainted with crimson.

“i was kinda—,” began the boy, cheeks turning darker at each thought; the pure embarrassment of asking his best friend what was about to escape his champagne colored lips, “wondering if you could show me how to kiss her?”

you nearly choked on your own saliva at his words, heart beating faster and faster each second after. you were at a loss for words. your best friend was asking you, his best friend since the two of you were kids, to teach him how to kiss. hell, you’ve never had your first kiss before. you had no idea what you were supposed to do anyway, so how could you be of help to chenle at all? you felt as if you would only make the situation worse— for both him and your heart.

“you want me to kiss you?” you questioned, now playing softly with the hem of your shirt to distract you from your thoughts. he was all you could think about; from the top of his head where his soft hairs lie to his heels that press him firmly to the ground when he stands. each and every aspect of him filled your mind; it was as if the only thing in the world to exist within your brain was him. for that split moment, you really didn't mind.

"i want to kiss you to test the waters—," chenle said, clearing his throat and looking the other way to avoid any type of awkward eye contact with you, although he knew it wouldn't be that awkward. you were his best friend, after all, you always were there to help him learn new things. "you're my best friend, y/n. it wouldn't be weird at all."

you sighed softly, nodding your head to the boy and seeing his eyes light up with the gleam that you found yourself madly in love with. you saw the entire galaxy within the sole irises of his mahogany orbs and at times, it was almost as if you couldn't pull yourself from staring into them. you were so enamored by the way his eyes showed his emotions when his face didn't need to. each feature about him was perfect, and you wished your brain was merely a camera to capture each moment of him so you could never forget— so he was always there through euphoric memories within your brain when he wasn't in front of you.

without noticing, as you were lost in thought about the boy in front of you, chenle moved himself closer to you so your knees were now touching and you were facing one another. you couldn't help but smile at the goofy look on his face; he always looked so silly when it came to new things, like the time you two went on your first rollercoaster together and held hands the entire way through. he had the silliest of smiles plastered on his visage, but you could see the happiness placed there, too.

in that moment, you realized— chenle was always there for your firsts of something. he was there the first time you ever rode your bike without training wheels, the first time you drove your car with your license. he was there to be your first dance at homecoming your freshman year of high school, and your last during prom when your senior year caught up with you. he was there for you when you got your first pet, and there throughout the nights you sobbed when it left. he was always there to turn to; he was always, without complaint, by your side.

“instead of blabbering on, kiss me already, chenle.” you said finally, trying to loosen the muscles in your body that were tense at the thought of your lips touching. “you won’t learn anything for her if you keep sitting there, you know.”

chuckling at your works, chenle leaned in closer to you, cupping his hands around your face. he smiled softly at you, caressing your cheeks gently with his thumbs. you couldn’t help the swarm of butterflies within your stomach, he was just so beautiful.

from the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs to the way he looks at the things he loves; it was all beautiful. from his head to his feet, from the air above his head to the ground below him— nothing could get any more beautiful than that. you swore that there has never been a being in the world more beautiful—or just as beautiful— as him, and you believed entirely that there would never be enough.

he made you see the world in ways that you would have never seen it before him. the world is certainly not as beautiful as it may seem; as it ranges in beauty and fair ugliness— chenle was surely the true beauty in this cruel, yet, ugly world. no words could possibly describe how truly wonderful he is in your eyes. everything he does, everything he touches— it holds some type of beauty because it has touched him.

the smiles that kisses his lips daily, the reason for light. the laughs that he lets out when he's happy, the reason for happiness. the way he holds your hand when you’re anxious, the way he doesn’t care about what others think of your friendship; the reason to keep trying. the small smiles he gives you when he looks up from his phone and sees you glancing at him; the reason to keep your heart open.

chenle’s lips touched yours, causing you to let out a gasp at his warm touch. his lips were soft and tasted of vanilla, causing you to wonder if he was the one who took your vanilla chapstick from your glovebox. his kiss was an eager one, full of willingness to learn for the girl he liked so very much, and that caused your heart to only become sore at the thought.

he pulled away and looked at you with warm, comforting eyes that also held worry within them. he pursed his lips. “was that good?” he questioned.

you could only nod in response, quietly hoping that he would kiss you again. you felt your heart beating against your ribcage, and you knew that you wanted his lips connected to yours once more. it was as if you entered your own special heaven with his lips attached to yours and with that; it was a heaven you never wanted to leave.

chenle’s thoughts were preoccupied though, with thoughts of you, and just how right it felt kissing you in that moment. you and chenle—the most exciting bunch around. meeting only at age three at a playground and becoming instantly close, you both felt as if you had known each other your entire life.

you went to parties together, you laughed and cried together; you did everything with one another. he helped you study when you were completely lost, always cheering you on with the you're doing great’s and the occasional you got this!’ speeches.

he helped you when things felt like they were crashing down; he made things stable. he made it feel like things were going to get better, with time, at least. he always reminded you how it was okay to make mistakes and that no matter what, you're human. no amount of failures could make you less of a human; they only make you stronger.

late night's with your hands intertwined watching television, he couldn't help but admire how lovely you are— how lucky he is to call you his best friend. the things you did were always in a platonic manner, seeming how you, of course, were merely silent about love and how you wanted to pursue it. he never knew what you wanted, due to the fact that you never initiated anything with him out of your sheer timidness, which caused him to run and stick with people who he didn’t even want anything romantic with. all that because he was waiting— waiting hopelessly for you.

he realized then that he was in love with you, too— that the looks he gave you weren’t out of concern, but out of love. he realized that the things he wrote in his journal about you, including the songs, weren’t just a phase of a young boy feeling puppy love, but rather a boy who was growing up and feeling the love of the most important person in his life.

“can i kiss you again?” chenle asked softly, rubbing the back of his neck as the words escaped his lips. his shyness caught your attention, causing your stomach to erupt with butterflies and euphoria.

“of course, chenle,” you began, “you can kiss me again.” you didn’t even have to finish your sentence before his lips were connected to yours once more. but this time, his kiss was filled with more fervor than what it was to begin with. it was as if he was no longer kissing you for practice, but as if he asked to kiss you again to genuinely kiss you.

your lips molded perfectly together as you kissed, his hands rubbing the outer part of your thighs. you then moved yourself to straddle his lap, having him chuckle against your lips at the movement. you had no idea what you were doing, honestly, there was nothing except passion filling your brain. you wanted to kiss him until you could no longer breathe— you wanted to kiss him until the world ended and you hoped that if it did, you could find a possible way to kiss him again.

as you straddled his lap, his hands found their way underneath your shirt to softly caress your waist. you felt yourself fall more in love with the boy in front of you, whom you were currently making out with. you would have never ever thought you’d be in this position with chenle, your best friend, who you believed was in love with someone else.

you pulled away to look at him, your eyes glimmering with love and lust to kiss him once again. you couldn’t help but think— why were you two in this position? was it because he saw you as someone he could potentially be with, or was it because it was his way of practicing for the girl he was supposed to see in the upcoming days?

“chenle,” you breathed as the boy leaned his forehead to touch yours; a meaningless gesture to some, but you felt your heart swell up. it was romantic, and you couldn’t get enough.

“yeah, baby?” he asked, causing you to feel dizzy at the nickname that he rarely gave you unless you were upset and he was calming you down.

“was that—,” you begin, catching yourself shaking slightly at the thought of the words that were just about to fall from your lips, “for practice? you know, for your date in a few days?”

chenle only laughed at you, his mellifluous laugh filled the air as you stared back at him. he was so beautiful when he laughed— he always looked as if he was the happiest being alive when he did so, and nothing made you happier than seeing his inexplicable happiness.

“i wouldn’t have kissed you again if it weren’t for you.” he said, now caressing your hips with his thumbs since you didn’t leave your previous position of atop his lap. “i realized halfway through our first kiss that you are the only person i ever want to kiss.”

you felt your cheeks heat up with crimson; “you want to only kiss me?” you inquired, causing the boy to shake his head before leaning down and kissing you again.

“more than you’ll ever know,” he said softly against your lips— leaving your heart in flutters.

you no longer had to worry about chenle and his short-lived relationships with others, because you knew now that his heart was yours, entirely yours. as the tears brimmed your mahogany eyes, you reached for his hand and kissed it gently. with his hand in yours, you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, adoration filling the air.

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