Jungkook
The space between our lips was a dangerous invitation. A phantom touch, a memory of mint and softness that tugged at me. I ached for a single, stolen kiss, even knowing it was foolish.
Just lean closer, Jungkook.
A fraction. Just a breath away.
I felt myself move, drawn in by an invisible current until I could feel his mint-tinged breath against my own. The scent was a siren’s call, a reminder of everything I was trying to bury.
But then the reasons for the breakup flared – the sharp edges of regret, the weight of unspoken truths. I couldn't succumb.
“U-Uh,” I stammered, a pathetic attempt to retreat, but he silenced me, closing the distance.
The kiss was tentative, gentle. And despite everything, I allowed myself to enjoy it. A dangerous indulgence.
But I knew it was wrong. It was a fracture in the fragile peace I’d constructed.
This time, I pushed him away.
His hands retreated from my neck, from my waist. The hurt in his eyes was a mirror of my own.
“I-I get it,” he said, his voice flat, refusing an explanation. He looked down, biting his lip, a familiar habit.
I wanted to confess everything. To admit I’d wanted the kiss, that I’d relished the taste of him.
But I let him go.
Taehyung turned and walked away, his shoulders rigid, not looking back.
❁
“Where are you headed?” I asked, pausing the movie as he moved toward the door. I watched him, a knot forming in my chest.
He glared at me.
“It’s none of your business,” he said, his voice clipped, before slamming the door behind him.
I was worried, despite myself. I tried to dismiss it as concern, but a tremor of fear ran through me.
Hours later, exhaustion pulled at my eyelids, and I drifted off on the couch, too drained to move.
❁
*Click.*
The door opened.
“Tae?” I mumbled, noticing a silhouette in the doorway. A drowsy chuckle.
I rubbed my eyes, slowly rising to my feet and moving toward the unsteady figure.
“Jungkook,” he slurred. The smell of alcohol and stale cigarettes hit me before he even entered the room. Then it struck me.
“Did you go to a club?” I asked, my voice laced with concern. Before he could answer, he collapsed into my arms. I groaned, but carefully carried him bridal style to his room.
❁
“Stay,” he said, giggling as he tugged on my arm when I tried to leave. My cheeks flushed with heat, and I mentally berated myself. He was drunk, and clearly not thinking clearly.
I sighed.
“Please,” he whispered, already tucked into bed, his eyes closed. The urge to pull him close, to hold him, was almost overwhelming. I gave in, mostly because I was exhausted. And because it was Taehyung.
I slipped under the covers, turning away from him to avoid the awkwardness. He whined and flipped me over, so we were facing each other.
“W-What are you doing?” I asked, feeling my cheeks burn.
“I just want to cuddle,” he mumbled cutely, his eyes still closed. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer until our stomachs touched, separated only by our clothes.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling his leg drape over mine.
He leaned his head against my chest, inhaling deeply.
“You smell nice,” he giggled before slipping into a deep slumber.
I felt my cheeks heat up and stayed there, admiring his face in the dim light.
I smiled sadly, gently stroking his cheek, a tear escaping my eye.
Oh, Taehyung. If only you knew.