Hearing the obnoxious ringing of my alarm, I vigorously turned it off while I exhaustedly groaned.
Leisurely rolling my body to the edge of the bed, I dolefully stood up and walked toward my bathroom with my shoulders slouched.
Giving my face a quick wash and drying it off with my towel, I took a look at myself in my mirror and noticed how puffy my eyes are from sobbing my eyes out last night because of Taehyung.
Recalling last night's agonizing incident, my heart mightily stung.
"You're a desperate whore, you know that?"
Taehyung's unbearably hurtful insult constantly replayed in my mind like a broken record, inevitably haunting me with affliction.
Quickly shaking it off, I exited my bathroom with a deep sigh escaping from my mouth.
Suddenly smelling a delectable, recognizable aroma coming from my kitchen, I found myself restlessly rushing out of my room.
Breathlessly reaching my kitchen, my eyes enlarged at the sight of Jungkook, preparing something with a wooden spatula in his hand in great concentration, just like the time I found him in my house back in high school.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Oh, hey." He nonchalantly greeted as he raised his head to smile at me, immediately returning his attention back to whatever he's cooking.
"How-"
"Your window." He interrupted me, already knowing what I was attempting to question him about.
"Okay, you need to stop breaking into my house Kookie." I scolded with a hand placed on my hip.
"I made you breakfast?" He replied, as if him intruding my house was actually a beneficial thing.
Aware of the fact that he clearly had no intentions of listening to me, I let out a defeated sigh and gave up.
"What'd you make?" I curiously asked.
"An omelette." Jungkook responded.
"Is an omelette the only thing you know how to cook?" I chuckled, recalling him making the same exact breakfast for me that one time.
"P-Psh, no?" He reluctantly denied.
Alright, that's a yes.
Skillfully flipping the omelette on the frying pan, he neatly placed it on top of a porcelain plate and proudly walked over to the kitchen table with a haughty smirk on his face.
Gesturing me to situate myself, he gently placed it down in front of me.
"T-Thanks." I awkwardly muttered as I timidly sat down, picking up my metal spoon and scooping up a portion of the omelette.
