3rd Year | Jeon Jungkook

39 • We're Always Gonna Be Good

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With the rising of the sun came a mix of bittersweet emotions that made Dahlia sit upright in her bed longer than she needed to after waking. Now that she'd had time to herself without the constant demands on her assistance or attention, or the ever-present probability that one of her sisters would waltz into the bathroom unannounced when all she craved was a moment of privacy, she missed being home. It felt like she was in a constant state of longing, because when she was at Harrison, she wanted to be home but when she was home, she wanted to be at Harrison.

The enthusiasm to leave because her jerk for a roommate had pushed enough buttons to bring her to angry tears had long since been traded for a wistfulness that caused her to stare at a spot in her bathroom mirror with unfocused eyes while she brushed her teeth. This was only her second time leaving yet it felt like she was leaving a lot more behind, more than she realized she would ever feel for both a man and a city that had been cold and unkind since the day she entered it with the blind optimism of a small-town girl.

It sounded childish even inside her mind but she didn't want to leave, not even with the trade-off of seeing her family that she missed, nor with the guarantee that she would be back before she knew it.

If she felt like this now, what was she going to do once summer vacation came? The thought made her toothbrush pause mid-motion but Dahlia then quickly shook her head and got back to it. Thinking about it now was inviting herself to stress even more over something she couldn't control.

After distractedly drifting through her skincare routine and fluffing out her hair to make it appear as if she woke up with moisturized lips and dewy skin, she crawled back in bed, grabbed her phone and kept her word to call Dom first thing in the morning. A few rings later, his visuals filled her screen, and although he looked to have genuinely been sleeping, unlike her who primped first, he wasn't any less handsome.

A sleepy smile softened his features. "Even at sunrise, you're perfect."

"Please stop," she smiled, blushing. "You compliment me too much."

His half-opened lids slowly blinked as he shook his head. "Never. One thing my love will never have to question is if I think she's beautiful or not. She should know it just as intuitively as she does her own name," he said. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept well," she said, still flustered by his early morning flattery. "How about you?"

"I slept on a literal bed of rose petals and it was probably the classiest thing I've ever done," he chuckled. "You should be here to experience it too."

"I would have stayed if you asked me to, you know?"

"I know. But if I can be completely honest with you, I needed the time to..." Pausing for a moment to find the words, he then looked back at the camera. "I needed to calm down last night. Catch my breath."

"You didn't trust yourself again?" She asked.

He appeared exposed, his expression saying that she'd looked through the transparent excuse he'd given her and seen the real reason. His full smile always showed the tips of his pointed fangs but the one he exhaled in response barely showed them at all, meaning her assumption was right.

"Why do you still not trust yourself?" She asked, her voice soft and caring. "When I stayed there when I was drunk, you held me all night and made me feel safe, and that meant so much to me because it was the first time I'd stayed the night at my boyfriend's house. Ever. You've shown me that you're trustworthy. Why don't you believe you're trustworthy too?"