in which kim taehyung was an artist in search of a muse for his upcoming gallery collection, and jeon jungkook was just a pretty boy who worked in a coffee shop.
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"am i really that pretty?"
"oh my darling love, there is no such painting that...
jeon jungkook hated the rain. he had always hated it.
he looked out the window and groaned, sinking back into his couch, coco in his lap as he pet the bunny's soft chocolate fur.
he hated the rain; hated the way it trapped him inside, hated how it flooded the streets and hammered on his window late at night.
he hated the way the sky darkened and his mood worsened with each drop.
he had called in sick that morning.
he wasn't sick.
he just didn't want to venture out into the freezing cold rain when he'd rather be nice and coddled in bed. seokjin would understand, for the man always did. perhaps it was why jungkook had a close bond with the older man.
both seokjin and namjoon were almost like parents to him, despite only being about fifteen years older than he was.
his apartment was silent, save for the sound of the heavy rain on the window-pains. he hadn't moved since he made his morning coffee just an hour before and let coco out of her hutch, the bunny seeming to hate the rain as much as he did.
it just made him feel unpleasant, made him feel not unhappy per say, but limited.
his ringtone's sudden blare made him tear his gaze away from the window, and he swiftly sat up and reached for his phone, looking down at the number on the screen.
lazily swiping right before lifting it to his ear. "mom?"
"hey, sweetheart." the woman spoke through the phone, and jungkook's fingers curled around the mobile device tighter. "i just called to ask if you have anyone accompanying you to the funeral this weekend... we need to know how many places to reserve."
the brunette's head began to pound. how could he forget? "mom, you of all people should understand why i don't want to go." he looked down at his bunny and bit down on his lip as he gently stroked coco's ear with his finger. "he doesn't deserve my respects."
"i know, dear." the woman answered, a soft shuffling heard on the other side of the line. "but... he is your uncle. try remember the good times instead of the bad-"
