"C'mon, a few kisses won't ruin anything."
"That's against the rules, though."
"Rules are meant to be broken."
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
In the midst of your friendship, you realise your insecurities hold you back in more ways than one. A newly heartbroken Jungkook se...
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Waking up in the solidarity of Jungkooks bed never gets old. Solace lies in you here more than in the comfort of your own home, maybe because in your own bed you're alone with yourself. With your own thoughts.
Here, although you wake alone, there's no hint of existential dread of staying that way, you know sooner or later Jungkook will come through that door and greet you with the sweetest of smiles.
You enjoy a brief four seconds of peace before your memories and sentiments reboot in the system of your brain. You rest, comfortable in your safe haven, fatigue running its way up your body. You couldn't help but rest your eyes for at least five more minutes.
Now that you think about it, you don't recall falling asleep in the safeness of his duvet. In fact, you're sure you fell asleep on the sofa. After forcing compliments down your reflections throat, Jungkook had let you change into something more comfortable. His clothes, of course.
You packed your new clothes into their designated bags, dumping them somewhere in his room before going into the living room. To no surprise, he forced you to rewatch Fast and Furious with him for the thousanth time.
"I just spent a fortune on you, I think I deserve something in return." He begged you, he sat with his arm outstretched, waiting for you to give in and join him.
"Let me have this," he whined, "Please."
As always, you obliged. Groaning and throwing your head back, you stomped your way over to him and wondered whether you should smack his hand away. In false frustration, you took his hand in yours, snaking it around your body as you lay your head on his lap. A usual position. Super normal.
Poor you, you were conked out by the time the first race of the movie was over. He hadn't even known you were sleeping until he had accidentally laughed too loud and jolted you awake, he watched you stir and he shushed you back to unconsciousness.
His hand, subtly filtered through your hair, easing any lurking nightmares that creep along alleyways, and he felt as if he couldn't move. The feeling you get when a cat decides to nap on your lap, so you're destined to stay in that position forever.
Sat, occupied by you and the movie, nostalgia prodded iron hooks into his heart, tugging, as he remembered how a specific brown haired woman sprawled across his lap whilst they watched movies together. Seemed like yesterday, if it was a lifetime ago.
As his fingertips dusked against your arms, he used his other hand to ruffle his hair, pulling any thoughts of the bride-to-be out of his head. Part of him felt mean, mean for thinking of her even though he's with you. Well, not with you, however he was still ridden with guilt for subconsciously comparing his experiences with you to her. Specifically what he isn't supposed to do, especially if you're trying to make him forget about her.
