Breathe Me | Jikook

9

Jungkook was terrified he was going to miss his stop.

He was sitting on the bus in the back, staring out the window, chin in his hand, elbow on the small area between the seat and the glass pane.

He shouldn't miss it. The bus would take him right to the campus; how could he miss a giant university campus? He couldn't. So, he just kept his eyes out the window, looking for any building remotely similar to the school he was looking for. That helped to calm his nerves.

What didn't help to calm him, however, was knowing what absolute shitty drawings and sketches were in his bag. He knew that the lines were off, that the shading didn't look right, that the color wasn't proper. He knew, and yet he had to take it to show it to strangers that he was going to work for.

They were going to judge him. The thing he hated and avoided so much, and here he was waltzing right into a situation that would put him at the hands of his shadows.

What if they told him he wasn't good enough? Jungkook had been doing art since he could remember; what would he do if they told him he sucked? He didn't know if he could take that, especially not right now, not when he was already struggling with his art.

Don't think like that, He told himself. He would be fine. He didn't care about what these strangers thought of him. He didn't want to draw the album, he was only doing this for Taehyung. It didn't matter.

Oh, but even as he thought that, he knew it was a lie.

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The walk to the dorms seemed too long and far too short at the same time. There were barely any students on campus from what Jungkook saw, but he was still on edge, keeping his head down as he swiftly walked through the cold. He had his bag clutched to his chest, his grip on it too tight.

Honestly, now that he was almost there, he wished he had stayed home. He was absolutely terrified.

And when he entered the dorm building, the heat slowly warming him up, there was no one in sight in the bright room. So, he just made his way to the stairs as he pulled the piece of paper out of the pockets of his jeans, glancing at the dorm number before climbing to the third floor.

Jungkook really needed to start exercising more. His legs were burning by the second flight; how out of shape was he? He felt kind of dizzy too, lightheaded to an extent.

When he got to the floor he needed to be on he had to stop because his head was spinning so badly. He braced his forearm on the wall and leaned against it, taking breaths to steady himself.

He may or may not have skipped breakfast and lunch and whatever snacks normally came in between. Did he regret that? No, because he was too nervous to eat.

After a moment or two, Jungkook forced himself to move. The world had steadied around him and he was able to walk normally—rather than stumble—through the hall, and to the door that was at the end. Some of the paint on it was chipped, which was greatly contrasting against the immaculate decorations and structures around him. It didn't feel like a home to Jungkook; it seemed stiff.

Jungkook honestly tried to raise his hand to knock on the door, but it was as if someone was holding it down, as if there was a weight strapped to his wrist. He knew he looked like a wierdo lingering outside of someone's dorm but he couldn't bring himself to knock.

He wanted so badly to succeed. He didn't want them to tell him he couldn't do it, that he wasn't good enough, that he wasn't the artist they wanted. This could be a chance to get closer to Taehyung, but Jungkook felt like he was grasping at straws.