(16) Smells like him

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Third Person's POV

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Third Person's POV

Nights like tonight, when it's hard to sleep, when it's hard to breathe, even, Jungkook is infinitely grateful for Kim Taehyung.

He's not here right now. He's probably in his home tonight. But he doesn't have to be here. Jungkook is still grateful for him. For so many reasons, innumerably many, but right now it's because, once again, Taehyung has lent him his shirt.

The shirt smells like him- smells like Taehyung. Like the brand of fabric softener he uses. Like the sheets that Jungkook would tuck his head under on the futon laid out on Taehyung's floor next to Taehyung's bed. Like the sheets on Taehyung's bed, too, when Jungkook inevitably felt anxious about sleeping in a place that wasn't his own bedroom and crawling in beside him. Like the fluffy towels he'd borrow to use when he took a bath at Taehyung's house, or his own socks mixed in with Taehyung's wash and later returned to him. Like the way Taehyung's shirt smells when he pulls him in for a hug, usually too tight and too boisterous and exactly what Jungkook needs.

Most of the time, the quiet of being alone is comforting, but sometimes when Jungkook has nothing to focus on but the battle to fall asleep, his litany of fears consumes him. His mind is weak, he knows, which is just another bullet on the list of things to worry about that feeds into itself. It gets to him here at night sometimes, alone in his room, and wakes him up and keeps him up until his alarm is going off and there's nothing left to do but drag himself to paint again.

But he knows now that there's a remedy for his unease. Surprisingly, it lies in another person. For all the fear he has of others, there's one who can make it all go away.

Taehyung doesn't even have to be here. It would be nice if he was, but this is comfortable. When Jungkook drags the too-large collar of Taehyung's shirt over his mouth and his nose and breathes in, and then out, and then in again, he can lose himself in this scent. A scent like childhood and confidence and sunlight and everything that makes his lungs ache with warmth. The empty night isn't too bad when he has this, and he can only think of one thing that would make it better.

As if on cue, there's a knock at the door. Quiet, but brisk, in the rhythm of the chorus of some stupid song that Jungkook liked in junior high school. He sits up straight.

Jungkook swings his legs out of bed and crosses the room. The doorknob is cold on his fingers but turns smooth in his hands and then the soft light from the hall is spilling in around the figure in his doorway.

"Taehyung" Jungkook says.

Warmth washes over him, like stepping outside on a sunny day, like curling up under a soft blanket. He's so grateful. So grateful that he can bask in Taehyung's sunlight.

"Hey!" Taehyung says, smiling.

Jungkook takes a moment just to look at him. His hair and broad shoulders, covered by his jacket, are damp from the rain that's pelting the ground outside. His voice is too loud for the late hour, for the fact that he's not supposed to be here tonight, but Jungkook doesn't bother to shush him. Not when he's grinning so big like that, in that way he always does, like he's genuinely pleased to see even someone like Jungkook.

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