𝗪𝗲 𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝗔𝗻𝘆𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲┃𝗣. 𝗝𝗺✘𝗝.𝗝𝗸

Haunted By Precious Memories

One night, they both end up sleeping in bed. Jungkook isn't sure how it happens - Jimin had come home late, as usual, and he'd probably been too tired to notice that Jungkook was already under the blankets, pretending to be asleep.

In all truthfulness, he'd been wide awake, his heart rate picking up with the sound of Jimin sitting on the bed and wiggling out of his tight button-up. When the fabric had finally fallen down with a dull thud, Jungkook had remembered all the times he'd been the one to drop that piece of clothing to the floor, mind clouded with desire as he'd kiss Jimin breathless.

Sometimes, they wouldn't even have the patience to get out of their clothes, Jimin hastily undoing Jungkook's belt and pulling his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free before biting down harshly on Jungkook's lips, asking him to hurry, to go harder, rougher.

Jimin slips beneath the covers and turns his back to him. After a few beats, his breathing starts to even out, and Jungkook knows he's fallen asleep. Only then does he let himself release the breath he'd been holding.

He wants to turn around, wants to wrap his arm around Jimin's waist and bury his nose in the nape of his neck like he used to before this stupid thing started. He wants to kiss that little spot right below Jimin's ear, where is skin is the most sensitive, and feel him relax against his chest. He wants to hold his hand, or even just look at him. He'd be happy doing just that - looking at Jimin as he sleeps, soft brown hair sprawled across the pillow.

But he can't.

Jungkook forces his body to stay still, grips the sheets in his fist so that he's not tempted to reach out.

In the morning, Jimin is gone, his scattered clothes the only sign that he'd slept in the room at all.