Dark (Jungkook - BTS)

Chapter 9

"Scarlet. Scarlet. Scaaaaaarlet."

I was awoken by someone shaking my shoulder. I yawned and opened my eyes, quickly wincing at the bright light. Jungkook was on his side, his hand on my shoulder.

"What?" I groaned, softly hitting my pillow with my fist before turning to glare at him drowsily. He blinked his own sleepy eyes wearily and propped his head up on his fist.

"Make my breakfast."

With a lot of complaining and muttering under my breath, I dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen. Master Jungkook's breakfast was more important than my morning routine, apparently.

"What do you want?" I called, opening the refrigerator in the kitchen. Five seconds passed in silence. No answer. "Jungkook?"

I walked back to the bedroom, slightly miffed. So much work. When I got to the room, I found that Jungkook was out cold, snoring, sprawled across the expansion of the entire bed.

I huffed.

"Okay, then," I said, rolling my eyes and trudging back to the kitchen. I reopened the refrigerator and scanned over its contents. Milk, eggs, bacon, juice, cheese, chicken, random vegetables, and frozen pizza. There was probably rice in the pantry, too.

What would an Asian demon want to eat? I asked myself. Rice, most likely. There was a rice cooker on the counter, so I ultimately decided on chicken congee. I poured some rice in the rice cooker, switched it to "congee," and went to prepare the chicken and some pickled radishes. I recalled my family always putting that in their rice soup. A memory threatened to surface, but I quickly shoved that away by humming random lines of random songs. Nope, not today. One less emotional breakdown to worry about.

As the breakfast cooked, I went to the bathroom to get ready. When I got back to the kitchen, the chicken was warm, but the rice wasn't quite ready, so I poured myself a glass of cold water and sat at the kitchen table, occasionally sipping the chilled water as I stared at the boring, empty kitchen.

"What's for breakfast?" A groggy Jungkook trudged into the kitchen, his hair standing up like it was searching for wifi. He rubbed his eyes, yawning, and I looked at his disheveled form. Even though he had just woken up, I could still see the "lust and seduction are forms of darkness" in him, though it was more of a "the morning after lust and seduction" look. Cringing, I remembered how disgusting I had looked in the mirror. Why couldn't I be a demon? Did angels not have a trait for looks, or did I just not inherit them?

"Hm?" Jungkook pulled me back to reality, and I realized that he had asked me a question.

"O-Oh, um, I'm making chicken congee," I replied hastily. Jungkook nodded and shuffled to the bathroom without another word.

I started thinking about the angelic traits I might've inherited. Actually, what were angelic traits? Telling the truth all the time? I didn't know if that was one, but I definitely didn't inherit that one. Angels could probably fly, though. Could I fly? I didn't have wings...

I thought of Jungkook that night in the alley. He had taken off his shirt to unfurl his wings. They had extended to a tremendous length of raven black feathers, but that wasn't where my attention was. Despite the fact that I was trying to concentrate on his wings, I was distracted by memory Jungkook's shirtless torso. Hahahahahahaha, whoops! My memory of his carved, muscular body was clearer than his majestic wings. Awkward.

"Why are you blushing?" With a start, I realized that Jungkook had come back to the kitchen. "The rice is ready."

With a few strangled noises, I rushed off to the food. I brought back two bowls of congee with utensils ready and set them on the table. Jungkook looked at the congee in surprise.

"I didn't even know that you could cook this well," he commented. "It smells great."

Hold up.

"Wait, so you didn't know that I could cook, but you asked me to make breakfast anyway?"

"Well..." A wry smile crept onto his face. "I just hoped for the best."

"Hm." I dug into the rice and started to eat. Well damn son, I didn't even know that I could cook this well. Was Underworld food just that good? Was the rice cooker magic? It genuinely seemed impossible that I could cook this decently.

After a while, I started to talk. "Jungkook," I began, my mind vying for a topic to bring up, "do you have to take off your shirt every time you want to use your wings?"

Well.

That wasn't exactly what I would've aimed for, but it worked. Jungkook seemed a little surprised that I had initiated a conversation. He set down his spoon and stared at me for a second, his eyes studying me in utter wonder.

"No," he said at last. "My clothes usually have slits on the back, but since I was in the human world, that would've looked weird."

"Oh."

"Why?" He started to smirk, like he did when he was passing off as a human. "Do you want me to take off my shirt every time?"

Yes.

I shook my head quickly. "Just wondering," I said, trying to shake off my ever-present blush. "Did you always have wings?"

"Uh, no. We're not born with wings. We have to... I don't know, activate them, I guess."

My interest was perked. "How do you activate them?" I inquired, leaning closer to him subconsciously. My head cocked to the side, and I waited for an answer. It felt like taking those "Which Boyband Member Is Your Boyfriend?" quizzes and hoping to get your favorite. I was excited that it might apply to me, and that I might actually have wings.

"Well aren't you talking a lot today," he noted. "You normally don't talk that much, especially not to me."

Was that a hint of sadness that I heard in his voice?

"How do you activate them?" I pressed. Jungkook sighed and locked eyes with me.

"Do you want wings?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Are you seeing if you can fly?"

"I'm half angel, aren't I?" I replied nonchalantly. "Maybe I can."

"Take off your shirt."

"Wh-What?" I started blushing furiously again, which was honestly getting annoying in this apartment. Blushing every day was getting tiring, especially because Jungkook seemed to find multiple ways to fluster me against my will. "Excuse me?"

"Well, if you can activate wings, your wings can't be trapped," Jungkook explained, shrugging. "Unless you wanna borrow one of my shirts."

"Please." I fanned my face rapidly and blew air up onto my face as Jungkook went to fetch a shirt. He tossed me a plain black t-shirt, and I went to the bathroom to change.

"Are you done?" Jungkook asked, right outside of the door. I opened the door, letting him in, and he stood in front of the big mirror behind me.

"Alright, so basically, you have to imagine that you have wings," he said, making two small circles on my shoulder blades with his long fingers. I flinched a little at his touch. "Pretend that there are bones here that are attached to wings, and try to move them. Imagine that you're moving them back and forth."

He stepped back, just in case wings materialized out of nowhere. I bit my lip and did as he said, concentrating madly. After a few moments, I had imagined my wing bones moving in sync, and I felt something move. I glanced up in the mirror, gasping.

Extending from my back were a pair of shimmering outlines of angel wings. They weren't solid; they were like ghosts. They spanned about four feet in each direction, and Jungkook stepped out of their way.

"Are... they real?" I peeped, mesmerized. Jungkook nodded, crossing his arms.

"You have to keep exercising them to get them to solidify and actually work, but yeah, those are your wings," he said. "Just keep using them, and they should develop soon enough."

"Thank you!" I threw my arms around Jungkook's neck, attacking him in a bear hug. He made a startled noise but hugged me back.

"Mhmm. Now, dishes don't do themselves."