not my fault | jjk

iii. The Lab

When you enter the lab the next day, Jungkook is already there, staring at your form entering through his glasses as he manspreads on his seat. You try not to look down, but avert your gaze instead, sitting down in a far corner of the room despite the fact that you've sat next to him more often than you can count.

From your peripheral sight, you catch that he's still staring at you, but you try to focus on your unkempt and idle professor as you slip your arms into your lab coat. Seems like your teacher's in a bad mood, because he wipes his tired eyes, waving you off nonchalantly before he mutters, "Produce an ointment. Any kind you want. You can work alone or as a duo."

You learned to make ointments years ago. But okay – at least an easy task that doesn't require the brainpower you don't have today.

You decide to work alone – but as it seems, Jungkook has different plans.

From afar, you overhear him decline a girl or two and a boy who offer to get into a group with him; but he utters some convincing excuses and walks over to you instead. You feel him step closer, and your chest tightens.

Your body isn't a blooming forest – the butterflies need to get the hell out of there.

"How are you?" he asks once you acknowledge him with a nod, putting on his lab coat and gloves before he grabs some ingredients from your hand, dividing the work.

"Good. How are you?"

You looked so fucking hot.

His words repeat in your mind like a broken record – by now, you've memorised the tone he whispered them in, the rise and fall of his voice, the casual confidence he put into it.

Shit. You should've worn that dress today.

"I'm okay," he answers, dabbing at his forehead that shines in the slightest sheen of sweat that the summer causes, "was wondering what ointment you're making."

You mumble something so quietly that he doesn't grasp it, and he leans in with furrowed eyebrows, asking again. Raising your voice, you control the volume of your sentence, telling him, "Burns. Against burns."

His lips form an O before he licks them, tsk-ing and smirking as he states dramatically, "Apply it to my heart then."

Huh.

"What?"

"Was wondering where you went yesterday."

Oh. You didn't think he'd care this much – makes you want to care even more.

"I..."

He interrupts you, waving calmly and reassuringly as he says, "I can totally let it go if you want me to, though. It's cool, I promise!"

"No, I–" Okay. Stop stuttering. One more stutter and you'd slap yourself in front of him. "I made breakfast for my roommate."

Jungkook nods as though he knew, his conversing tone jovial and cheerful as he asks, "Your roommate? Namjoon, was it?"

"Yes."

Jungkook measures the powder used for the ointment, gazing at it carefully and focused. A crease carved between his eyebrows, he looks incredibly sexy, staring over the edge of his glasses, the tip of his tongue peeking out. The coat hugs his body perfectly, and his muscles flex each time he angles his arms.

It's almost too much.

And then, he leans back, exhaling before he notes, "Damn. If you were my girlfriend, I'd make you breakfast every day."

"I'm not his girlfriend," you defend immediately – why, you can't quite say, "but you knew that."

"No harm in making sure..."