Flowers From My Poet // jjk + kth

1 / we forgot the sour cream

if you're confused about anything, don't worry, all will be explained.

Here we go~!

Jungkook's PV

    Just Right blasted through the speakers in the basement, drowning out the hits against the punching bag. Hit hit. Hit. Man, dancing is one thing, but boxing is in its whole own group by itself. Instead of power of expression, I had power of the punch.

    "Jiminnnnnnnnnnnnnn~!" I yelled. "Come box with me!"

    There was no response, which wasn't surprising. GOT7 makes him dance even in grocery stores when he thinks nobody is looking. It's adorable, actually. But the way girls look at him makes me jealous. Nobody's ever looked at me like that.

    Which is why I'm boxing. I usually do core workouts, but those were too tame for my current confused thoughts. I needed to somehow get my mind off things.

My first drawing appeared today, and I don't know what it means. I haven't dared to draw yet, because I'm scared of disappointing whoever is on the receiving end. Honestly, why does this have to be so complicated? It just makes me nervous, and then I do shit like knock garbage cans over during dance practice because I can't focus. The boys have never laughed so hard. It sucked for me, but it was pretty funny.

Right as the song ended, I rounded off with a series of fast punches that would put Namjoon's raps to shame. Hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit h-

"Jesus Kook, do you think you've hit it hard enough?" Jimin appeared in the doorway, raising his eyebrows. "I think all of Seoul heard that last bit."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "Jim, I have the worst mind ever. You canNOT say stuff like that!"

"Oh my gosh, not again!" He rolled his eyes in signature Park Jimin fashion. "Get your mind out of the gutter or I swear I'll pour acid down there."

I smirked. "You know, it's kinda hard to get my mind out of a place it always is."

Jimin shoved me, flicking his beach blond hair out of eyes. "Well, it shouldn't be. You're our young, innocent Kookie."

Innocent? Not after today. "Yeah, right," I scoffed, unwrapping my wrists from the bandages. "Do you not remember the BST video?"

"Are you sure you don't mean me in the Boy in Luv video? Because I swear that was my era," Jimin said, bending down to tie his bright orange Nikes. He had a thing about his laces: they had to be in perfect bows or he would freak out and rant about tripping.

"No, I mean me, back when I rapped more and my hair was flawless. And I also mean I need a shower, so don't wait up."

Jimin laughed and started running up the stairs to the loft. "Don't worry," he called over his shoulder. "I'm going for a run. You showering will be the last thing on my mind."

Chuckling, I threw the wraps in my hamper and headed to the bathroom. Jimin and I share it, as we room together, and the rest of the boys were across the hall. Our little complex might seem small, but it really is luxurious, complete with leather couches, lots of movies, and a basement with a punching bag, of course. Contrary to common belief, my favorite part is the hardwood floors, which are perfect for sock skating but awful for dancing, as proven by my weekly bruises whenever Tae comes over. I don't know what it is about him, but dance parties are always more fun with him than with Jimin. We're wild. Nothing against Chim, because he's hella cool. But it's weird. I don't know how to explain it.

The thought of weird stuff reminded me of the drawing, and I couldn't help but lift my shirt up to look at it more closely. I leaned forward in the mirror, tracing its shape. It was a simple smiley face, one with two dots and a tiny parabola for a mouth. But even though it was simple, it meant a lot to me. Someone finally gathered the courage to mark themselves knowing they would mark their soulmate in the process. I admired that, especially since I was still too scared.