SugaKookie

32

Jungkook's 3rd Person POV3

(Present Time)

The water had gone cold by the time he snapped out of his thoughts. Shivering, a tan hand reached out to shut it off. Shaking from foot to foot, teeth chattering, Jungkook stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his small waist. Looking in the mirror, he studied his features.

The big brown Bambi eyes, the small button nose. The long lashes that stuck together, and the pink lips he bit so much. The strong cheekbones that his stylists liked to compliment on, and the multiple ear piercings that he sometimes wished he'd never gotten. He guessed he was okay-looking. He was a kpop idol, after all. But if he was to believe his fans, and think he was drop-dead gorgeous, then why couldn't he get one man to forgive him? He knew people cared about more than looks, but the kpop industry had taught him to rely mostly on his beauty. Behind his pretty face he was a stuttering mess.

How was it that he, Jeon Jungkook, had been an absolute mess, making mistakes in performances and practices alike, all because he knew he wouldn't be welcomed into strong pale arms, wouldn't be pressed against a pale chest, wouldn't be able to inhale his favorite fresh mint smell. All because he knew thin chapped lips wouldn't press kisses against his face, and a deep rough voice wouldn't praise him for his dancing and vocals. A pale veiny hand wouldn't caress his face and ruffle his hair. Dark feline eyes wouldn't follow his every move and if he did look over and make eye contact, it wouldn't be warmth and fondness they'd hold.

Every look, every sound, every accidental touch reminded him that there was someone suffering harder than he was. Someone he loved, that was suffering because of him. Oh, how he hated himself in those moments. The moments where he'd desperately want the comforting hug of his favorite hyung, but would have to settle for the motherly embrace of Jin-hyung, or the fatherly pat-on-the-back from Namjoon-hyung.

The pretty eyes filled up with tears. Self-pity flowed down in little streams. Pulling a thin white shirt on, Jungkook angrily wiped at his face, succeeding only in making his face redder. Padding out into the hallway in the thin shirt and black boxers, Jungkook dumped his clothes in the dirty-laundry bin before pausing in the middle of the hallway.

He could turn Left, and race back to his room, hoping that Yoongi was asleep and didn't remember anything tomorrow. Hoping Seokjin wouldn't ask any questions, and that he, himself, wouldn't wonder too much about what it would've felt like to lie down next to his ex-boyfriend again.

Or he could turn right, and cuddle into Yoongi's side, forgetting everything for one night. Demanding his 20 questions and learning more about the person he'd learned to care for. Care for... who was he kidding? The person he loved.

Jungkook made his decision, tiptoeing to the door of his choice. It was for the best, he tells himself. He was doing this for both of their sanities. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

A/N: I know this was short, but I'm leaving the chapter here. Sorry. I'll make it up with the next one.