"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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Stumbling into the arms of sleep is always a blessing and a curse. Blessing, because it prevents you from lying awake, tossing and turning, desperately trying to get your tired body away from your mind which is so feverishly active. A curse, because you wake up to your intenstines contracting in your stomach, begging you to get up and eat something, anything.
The desolation of your dark room suddenly offers no comfort — simply because Jungkook isn't in it. You find yourself alone, and pink noise accumulates your space as your groggy state ignores the way cold wooden floors burn the soles of your feet. Seemingly he's gone home, letting you sleep, but you kind of wish he stayed. Or at least told you he's going home. It's alright though, since you'll be seeing him later today. He's like your own little happy pill, it's cute.
Body akin to gunky sludge, you can only assume you roam around in the early hours of dawn; darkness still surrounds the city, and the gaze of the stars try desperately peeking between your blinds. Fatigue becomes you, yet hunger submerges as you tread lightly past the couch and into the kitchen. Yet something stops you. With your eyes adjusting to the abyss, you carefully make out the breathing silhouette of a sleeping Jungkook laid out on the sofa; deep into dreamland.
A warmth settles in your tummy once you tiptoe over to him, rubbing your eye with the pad of your thumb; you can barely see his face as he snoozes in the solace of your home, but his prescence alone seems to urge the sun to wake out of its slumber. Happy pill.
With a gentle smile, there's a little pep in your step as you drag your body to the fridge; you reckon making yourself some absurdly early cereal will satiate the hunger in your stomach. You have no recollection of when you fell asleep, but it clearly was after Jungkook did a number on you for the first time of many.
Reminiscence cascades vivid memories across a blank canvas in your mind, and you have to stop your bowl from overflowing with milk as you think about the way Jungkooks eyes gazed up at you from between your legs. How his brows furrowed once you tugged on his hair, rutting yourself against his tongue — gets your knees a little weak.
"Is that you, T?" The silence is split in two as Jungkook sits up, head faced in your direction. He could sense you as he slept, no matter how deep the slumber, your being was like a magnet.
"No," you grumble, "you're dreaming, lay down." You take a spoonful of cereal between your lips, munching harshly at the taste.
"Shut up." He grumbles, and his footsteps suddenly near as you take another bite. His hand rests atop your head, and you're suddenly enveloped in his vanilla scent, he yawns and it's amplified by a thousand. "What're you doing?" His voice is hushed, soft, it's like if he speaks too loudly he could blow you away with a slight gust of wind. Fingers massaging your scalp, he rests his other hand against the counter, next to your bowl, lips pursed.
