Still With You | JK ff

Chapter 12 - Sweet Liberation!

Your body felt slack as it lay on the floor, pressed up against Jungkook's warmth. Every muscle seemed to sigh in relief as it let loose, relaxed, and unrestrained, like the center of your body had relinquished its grip from within, letting go of your limbs to drift aimlessly away from you. Your head, propped up on his shoulder, bobbed gently with the rhythm of his peaceful breathing, like floating along the crest and troughs of a gentle wave. Every now and then, you felt a static buzz ripple across your skin where it met with him, like the very cells of your existence exulted in celebration, when he caressed his toe against your foot, or when he reached out to tuck strands of your hair behind your ear. The cinnamon scent of his skin enveloped you into a trance, like the soothing lull right before dipping into deep sticky slumber.

It had been a while since the sporadic spasms of sobbing had stopped heaving through his chest as he silently lamented the things that had hurt you, pulling you tighter into his arms. Now, you felt his heart, nestled deep in his chest, beat steadily against the palm of your hand, as you both slipped into a calm of contentment. Your bodies felt intertwined with one another, as they responded subconsciously to the slightest movement of the other, refusing to let any distance separate them. As the tinkling of his laughter wafted up into the silent air, from the tickle of your breath grazing against his neck, you closed your eyes with a gratified sigh.

It's strange how memories can be triggered by the slightest sensation, reminiscent of a cherished moment from the past. It wasn't always an apparent face, or sound or place for you, sometimes it was a mere fleeting feeling, that had etched itself on your heart, and a sudden encounter with a similar emotion could bring back to life, the version of you that had once existed in that moment long gone by. Something about this silent yet content moment with Jungkook, caught between the warmth of your bodies in the faint glow of morning sunlight streaming in through the window, took you back to those rare summer days of your childhood when your dad would take you fishing.

If money had been hard to come by, your dad's time was even harder. You rarely ever saw him around the house since he left home to prep for the restaurant before you even woke up in the morning, only to return much later in the night, way past your bedtime. You could still remember those times when you would be too adamant to go to bed, forcing your tired little eyes to stay open past midnight like trying to catch Santa on Christmas eve, with a drawing or a math test clutched between your fingers, just to see pride in his eyes. Your fishing trips with him, for this reason, had become the most blissful days of your life. You would wake up at dawn, barely having slept the previous night, your little heart bursting with excitement for what was in store, and would be ready even before him, waiting at the door with a bag and parka over your shoulder. He would come down the stairs not long after and laugh quietly at your tiny frame standing impatiently at the door. Like a ritual, he used to sit you down and tie the laces of your gum boots every single time and place a baseball cap over your head. As you drove down to the lake, you would hang your head out the window, smiling back at every bird, every tree and every gust of wind, eager to share the happiness that seemed to burst out your seams, while he sang along to the radio – a side to his personality you never saw at home.

You used to spend the entire day out on the lake, just you and him, in a humble little boat, as he waited patiently for a catch. He would scoop you up in his lap and tell you little stories from his life – mistakes he had made, pranks he had played in school, lines of a poem that had touched him, how he had fallen in love with your mom. Sometimes, those stories would end with a profound lesson that your little six-seven year old brain couldn't fully grasp, yet you peered up at him in wonderment, memorizing his words to mull over later, in his absence. Those words were like little pockets of your dad that you stored deep in your heart, like a bottle of sunlight, only to be opened in the darkest, coldest nights.