Fuckable Friend || Jikook & Vmin

33

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"Fake friends are like shadows: always near you at your brightest moments, but nowhere to be seen at your darkest hour."
— Khalil Gibran.
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In his unwavering pursuit of composure, Jungkook pressed forward through the school hallway, his resolve unyielding in the face of emotions that threatened to engulf him.

The unspoken weight of their feelings hung heavily in the air as he passed the intimate tableau of Taehyung and Jimin.

Their kiss, abruptly interrupted by his presence, left an unspoken ache in the atmosphere, fraught with longing and desire.

As he advanced, Jimin, consumed by a torrent of emotions, reached out and seized Jungkook's wrist, his voice rising in a crescendo of frustration and wounded emotions.

"Is it that you simply don't care?" he screamed, the words cutting through the atmosphere laden with tension and sorrow.

Jungkook met Jimin's accusatory gaze with a blank stare, a stoic facade masking the tempestuous maelstrom of emotions raging within him.

With a deliberate, unwavering motion, he chose to remove Jimin's hand from his wrist, an act of silent defiance against the storm of feelings that threatened to engulf them all.

In that fleeting moment, the hallway bore witness to an emotional clash, the weight of unspoken words, and Jungkook's unyielding determination to preserve his composure.

Retreating from the intense atmosphere, Jungkook sought solace in a quieter section of the hallway.

There, he unleashed a cathartic fury, relentlessly pounding his fist against the wall, unleashing a stream of expletives and insults that echoed the depths of his wounded soul.

"Fucking fuck you"

As Jungkook unleashed his pent-up frustration by relentlessly pounding the wall, his well-built physique was on full displayed.

His taut, sinewy muscles flexed with each forceful blow, veins coursing visibly beneath the surface of his skin, like rivers tracing a map of tension.

His arms, sculpted from countless hours of dedication and hard work, pulsed with raw power.

Veins snaked their way across the bulging biceps and forearms, emphasizing the intensity of each strike.

The broad expanse of his back, defined by hours of training and discipline, showcased its strength as it supported the force of his anger-fueled blows.

His body, a testament to physical prowess, became an embodiment of the turbulent emotions that raged within him, a storm contained within a powerful vessel.

After this cathartic release, Jungkook's rage transformed into smouldering resentment.

When he noticed a group of students curiously observing him, he couldn't help but erupt, shouting,

"What on earth is everyone looking at?" His voice reverberated through the corridor, momentarily hushing the spectators.

With hands now tucked into his pockets, Jungkook resumed his solitary journey down the hallway.

As he cast a glance toward an anonymous figure cloaked in a hoodie, their eyes briefly locked.

However, in an instant, the hooded figure evaded his gaze, choosing to remain enigmatic.

Jungkook, perplexed but unwilling to pursue further, decided to let the moment pass.

He continued on his way, his emotions still churning within him, like a tempestuous sea with no clear path ahead.