Expected | Jungkook

Chapter 8: Au Courant

(adj.) aware of what is going on; well informed.
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Sun beams directly shining on your face, your eyes shot open at the foreign warm presence.

Feeling the thick black comforter that wrapped around your body, seeing the strange setting, and hearing the awkward silence that filled the room, you immediately assume the worst.

In panic, you quickly lift the covers to see if your clothes were still intact. You sighed in relief. You weren't naked, thankfully, but instead in completely different close than last night ㅡbut that wasn't much of a soothing thought either. You had to have been naked in order to change clothes.

Hoooo my god.

Last thing you remembered was being at a bar, and now you're here. Anything could've happened.

Hesitantly, you turn your body to see who is laying next to you. The covers formed a lump in the shape of a body. You swallowed before making your next move. Gently, you touched the blankets ㅡbut instead of feeling a firm form, the covers caved in.

No one was there.

Confused and scared, you sat up to look around. Grey paint, faux rugs, window the size of a wall. The room was nice. This guy had money.

Where the hell am I? Who's place is this?

Suddenly, your ears tuned in to the sizzling sounds coming from outside the room. The sweet smell of bacon hit your nose. That alone was enough to wipe away all fear and motivated you to look for the owner.

You quietly walk over to the connected bathroom. You washed your face, then headed towards the smell, trying to be as silent as possible.

As the sizzling sound became more audible, you stepped with more caution. Finally reaching the kitchen, you peeped your head around the corner. Revealing a man in sweats and a black shirt facing the stove. You quickly retreat behind the corner again.

Joel? No. Noooo. Not Joel. Lord please let this be anybody but him. I'll even take that weird guy in my orchestra, but please not Joel.

You peeked your head back out again.

"Morning." the voice spoke. He knew there was a presence in the room.

You nearly had a heart attack.

Swearing internally, you awkwardly stepped from behind the corner.

Shit, Joel.

"Good morning." you softly greeted.

Joel turned around and smiled at you. This was all so strange for him. From only seeing you within the coffee shop, to seeing you in his clothing, this was all too weird.

You went to sit over at the table and watched his back as he cooked. You were silent.

Moments later, he brought a plate in front of you. Three perfectly fluffed pancakes, two strips of bacon, eggs, and orange juice. You thanked him.

I didn't know he could cook.

He went back to the stove and made himself a plate, then walked back to the table.

It was silent. All that was heard was the screeching from the forks contacting the plate. You looked down the entire time, too embarrassed. Too ashamed at what you had done with your best friend.

Joel's eyes glanced up at you. He watched as you slowly and stiffly ate your food. He knew what was going on in your head. That your mind was reaching conclusions far from reality. Smirking to himself, he decided to have this play to his benefit.