One-Way Ticket | Jeon Jungkook

fifteen

"Wear something inconspicuous and black, so you can blend in with the staff."

Pfft yeah right.

I shrugged on Jungkook's black hoodie, because I had so sneakily sneaked it out with me when I left his apartment just about two weeks ago. I hadn't washed it for weeks, just to let the smell of him simmer deliciously over me when I slept and well just all the time. I had worn it at every opportunity, drawing out every little whiff of him, clean, fresh, cologne, and a signature Jungkook smell that I couldn't quite put my finger on. That was until it started to get gross and smelly, and I was forced the put it in the washer, tears almost fell as it started circling and water washed over the fabric. Now it didn't smell like him, but rather some random detergent I got from the drugstore down the street. I needed a desperate and instant refill of the Jungkook doze. It was like a drug to me, my own personal brand of heroin, and I was beginning to get addicted.

Luckily for me, that day was today. I was flying to the U.S, my home, with him and the others. Maybe wearing his shirt wasn't exactly the best idea in the whole world for when you were to walk with the other staff, surrounded by paparazzi and hundreds of cameras, from the cars to the airplane. For everyone to see and analyze. But the shirt was basic in all ways, nothing special and no big brand names on the front. There was no way anyone would figure it out. Besides I liked the idea that the whole thing was right beneath their nose, clear as a blue summer sky, but only if you knew. I was his, right there for everyone to see- a secret for everyone except him.

I had packed my bags. They looked anonymous too. I was leaving a week before the winter vacation officially kicked in. I called in as sick, just as Jungkook had suggested, and coughed a suspicious amount before my plan set into action. Going back to America, without anyone knowing. I had coughed so much the week leading up, that Marina and Young-Soo had practically sent me home. Marina had prescribed me to stay in bed and binge this new Netflix series that she liked, and Young-Soo had given me an old recipe from his grandmother that was supposed to help cure the cough.

I had been on my period at the time and filled with excruciating pain. So, in a way it was true, and I was sort of sick, but not really. It was still enough to make me feel terribly bad, sending me into a spiral of overthinking about whether going on this trip was even the right idea. I was lying again. I was lucky to have such considerate and thoughtful friends, and here I was. About to go to the U.S, only Jungkook and BTS on my mind when they thought I was coughing in a desperate state on my couch at home. Marina was a fucking super-ARMY, and I didn't tell her shit. I felt like the worst friend in the whole world.

It was even worse right after my birthday. I had disappeared on the night without a word, and they had been worried sick. Marina had scolded me through and through afterwards. And since I didn't want her to worry about me and had no valid reason as to why I left that I could tell her of, I lied. I told her that I had gone home to some girl, the image of the girl I had kissed in my mind when I spoke and spent the night. But that we hadn't done anything. Because then Marina would be asking me about how my first time was, and I didn't want to further explain something like that, that had never happened. Then Marina had lightened up, probably also realizing she had gone a little hard on me and demanded all the details of my time with the girl. I made them all up of course. I was weaving a careful net of lies, trapping her in my web like a spider. The design had started out simple, a little white lie about a man I ran into when I was in Korea for the first time and broke my arm, but as time passed, more lies joined, and the weaving became more intricate and harder to manage. Harder to live with, morally wise.

I sighed from my bed and pushed the thoughts away. No one will know anything. Nothing. I told myself. I grabbed my backpack; it was filled with food that I had spent hours preparing. Why? Well, I had decided that being on an airplane with BTS for 20 hours would require that I had to shimmy my way into their hearts in some way. Also, I wanted to thank them for even allowing me to come with. My black backpack was heavy like never before. I was clad in black, head to toe, even my face mask was black. I looked like some secret agent and was kind of into it. I had to physically force myself from making finger guns and pretending that I wore a headset in front of my mirror and force myself out the door. In some way I was kind of a secret agent.