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Jungkook stares at 26,816 words, highlights every last one of them , and presses delete. They flash and vanish from the screen as if they never existed , and the relief he feels is palpable.
Then he sighs and clicks “undo”, and they reappear again, all 26,816 of them. It had felt good, even if it was just for a moment . Instead of deleting months of work outright, however, Jungkook opens a new document, and begins to type blind.
“Hand me that pen”, Sang-jun says, glancing at the table next to his chair. Jung-myung stares for a moment, then gets up, walks over to the chair , picks up the pen, and hands it over. Their fingers brush and it's electric , the building charge of the last month culminating in a single bright spark. He's been watching Sang-jun play with others, and the coffee dates and drinks afterward to discuss it have been dancing around the one subject Jung-myung knew he could never broach . But now he was being invited, seduced really, to try a little bit of this life for himself.
Jungkook opens his eyes and reads what he’s just written, then deletes it wholesale. Okay, just lay it all out there, Jungkook. I mean, why have any restraint about telling everyone exactly what you've been doing the last month? No big deal, it's not like the gossip rags won't have a field day with that.
He needs to be writing a different book, honestly, because the mystery he's supposed to be writing is shifting into the guise of an erotic thriller. While his agent might be fine with it, he's not sure he's quite ready to be this transparent.
Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a dark-haired, brown-eyed, most handsome boy.
Jungkook rolls his eyes at himself, hits Delete again, and closes his laptop.
