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Silence, as quiet as a grave, floats in the air when Jungkook finishes.

"Red," he whispers, stroking your damp cheek. "I can take you home now if you want. You don't have to stay."

His voice is candid, gentle, almost like he's sorry for making you feel this way.

There's a brick in your throat.

He was only seven.

At seven, you learnt to read, to do multiplication and division. At seven, he learnt more about the filth of the world than the many ways to be loved.

And you were part of that trauma too.

You didn't lose your memory. You didn't hit your head and forget everything.

You remember.

But your brain has suppressed every childhood encounter with Jungkook simply as a coping mechanism. Because your brain cannot physically store all that trauma so you convinced yourself it was just a fever dream. That it never happened.

In other words, dissociative amnesia; when a person blocks out certain events, often associated with stress or trauma, leaving them unable to remember important personal events.

But now that Jungkook is repeating it all to you, it's no longer black and white.

You reach a hand to stroke his hair back, realizing your fingers were shaking, trembling so much you let your hand rest on the crook of his neck. Play it cool, Y/N. Act like it doesn't affect you . Act like you're perfectly alright.

Jungkook turns his head away. "Leave," he whispers softly, yet his hand only tightens on your waist. "I know you want to. You can't stay next to me, Red. Now that you know everything you didn't want to remember."

You let out a shaky breath, only admiring his side profile and his set jaw. "You're being melodramatic," you say. "You're stuck with me."

Jungkook sends you a disbelieving look. "How can you be so unbothered by everything I just said?"

"If there's anything I should be bothered about it should be your inability to say my name."

In a second, his eyes turn a different shade of brown, sparkling like the reflection of stars in a well. Slowly, he sits up, staring at you with a small smirk. "You don't like your nickname?"

Oh who's gonna tell him?

You mirror his stance, sitting up on the bed with him. Your lips part but you're not sure what to say. "Do you even remember my name? I mean ever since you saw me at the bakery...did you know me?"

His eyes slip to your lips for a moment. "Of course I did, Red. You're very easy to remember."

You feel guilt gnaw in your chest.

Regardless, your cheeks go red, and Jungkook swipes a finger across your cheeks. "To be honest, you practically look the same. The hair, the cheeks, the eyes, the voice, hell even your height is the same. Do you even grow? Vertically?"

You glare at him, and his eyes smile at you, lips tugging at the corners slightly.

"But why were you such an ass to me?"

He cocks his head to the side, almost teasingly. "I'm an ass to everyone."

"No but you were stinkier with me."

"I didn't want you to like me."

You scoff at him. "Too late for that?"

His eyes widen a little, expression brightening like meteors of the night.

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