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Jungkook slept so soundly through the night that it was unnerving.
For what seemed a very long time now, from the first moment I'd caught his scent, I'd been powerless to keep my own state of mind from careening wildly from one extreme to the other every minute of the day. Tonight was worse than usual the burden of the hazard immediately ahead had pushed me to a peak of mental stress beyond anything I'd known in a hundred years.
And Jungkook slept on, limbs relaxed, forehead smooth, lips turned up at the corners, his breath flowing softly in and out as evenly as a metronome. In all my nights with him, he'd never been so at peace. What did it mean?
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I could only think that it meant he did not understand. Despite all the warnings I'd given him, he still didn't believe the truth. He trusted me too much. He was wrong to do so.
He didn't stir when his father peeked into his room. It was still early; the sun had not yet risen. I held my place, certain I was invisible in my shadowed corner. His father's shrouded thoughts were tinged with regret, with guilt. Nothing too serious, I thought, simply an acknowledgment that he was leaving him alone again. For a moment he wavered, but a sense of obligation, plans, companions, promised rides pulled him away. That was my best guess.
Jaewoo made a great deal of noise gathering his fishing things from the coat closet under the stairs. Jungkook had no reaction to the commotion. His lids never so much as fluttered.
Once Jaewoo was gone, it was my turn to exit, though I was loath to leave the serenity of his room.
Despite everything, his peaceful sleep had calmed my spirits. I took one final lungful of fire, and then held it inside my chest, cradling the pain close until it could be replenished.
The tumult resumed as soon as he was awake; whatever calm he had found in his dreams seemed to have vanished in the light. The sound of his movements was hurried, and a few times he tweaked the curtains, looking for me, I thought. It made me impatient to be with him again, but we had agreed on a time and I didn't want to prematurely interrupt his preparations. Mine were made, but felt incomplete. Could I ever be truly ready for a day such as this?
