When Eunbee comes back to Korea and meets her childhood best friend Kim Taehyung who is now a member of the most famous boyband, BTS, the last thing that comes into her mind while she is enjoying the nostalgia those glazed eyes and boxy smile brings...
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Jungkook usually likes to drink alone. Not that he does it often, his schedule doesn't allow him to do that but he thinks he needs it today.
His mind is a mess, thoughts astray.
He is blanking staring at the screen, trying to read more about soulmates. He hasn't told anyone what conversation he had with Seojun. He would tomorrow, perhaps, after making sure that neither Eunbee nor Taehyung take irrational decisions later.
Making Arin, a stranger, touch their string; trying to cut the string with scissors (and knowing it would just pass through it because apparently objects can't touch it) and asking Jungkook to meet Seojun in person when a phone conversation could have been enough— he can understand their desperation.
He is glad he went in person though, otherwise a phone call with Seojun would have just added fuel to the fire. His screen turns blank due to the inactivity, and he still doesn't care.
All he can think of is that woman. What is this strange feeling? Why do I yearn to see her and touch her? Fuck. Those soft tendrils on her neck keep swirling around his brain, squeezing it, pulling it away from reality, to them.
He doesn't realise when he falls asleep in the same sitting position, until he wakes up with a ridiculous sound of a baby crying. Oh, it's his alarm. He groans, feeling his muscles ache and stiff, curses himself for falling asleep like that and turns off his alarm.
He slides the laptop to the other side of his bed, lying down to stretch his body. He feels like sleeping again. Maybe he does because he only registers a faint knock after some time with his manager saying 'Wake up, you have a video to shoot today'. Finally getting up from his bed, he makes a beeline for his bathroom to freshen up.
His eyes are still hooded, vision blurry and movements sloppy. He walks straight towards the shower, wanting to completely wakeup first or he would probably end up gulping his toothpaste. Lifting his t-shirt over his head, he rubs his eyes and then tosses the fabric over to the basket of dirty clothes.
Then something catches his attention. His reflection on the mirror. He stands there, unable to move or even gasp in shock.
He refuses to believe his own eyes. Maybe I am still asleep? Yeah, that's the case. He rubs his eyes before looking at his reflection again. I can't possible be hungover, right?
His fingers come to touch his cheekbone instinctively where— A small bud blooms into his raven locks, a swirl extending to his jaw that ends with a withered rose bent over his jawline. There's a slight red shade on its petals. A thin and soft tendril loops around his eyebrow which accentuates the arch in them. A plethora of flowers painted across his chest.
