Encounter

Chapter 11 | Where the hell is Jungkook?

The car ride home from Pyeongchang to Seoul was sobering. I was such a pensive reflective state, I felt like the world weight on my shoulder. Everything was mixing inside me, I was an emotional wreck and I can barely breathe from too much crying.

And I thought about how really unfortunate I am, because everything I had perfectly planned always ends up being successfully ruined.

As I was leaving their vacation house, I didn't see Jungkook around, and I didn't feel like saying goodbye to him either. We were both going through a rough emotional time, which would make it hard for us to exchange any kind words. Yoojin then informed me that the car was ready, and that concluded our interaction. During the car ride, I considered asking him about his boss's true identity, but a sense of desperation held me back. It was likely that Yoojin either didn't have all the details I wanted to know or wouldn't speak negatively about his boss or share any information with me.

So, I just let my tears flow in the backseat of the car. Every time I tried to relaxed for a moment and breathed, even if it's impossible, I could see Yoojin looking at me through the rearview mirror. I sensed that he wanted to ask me if I was okay, if there was anything I needed, if he could help in any way. However, like me, he chose to remain silent, not wanting to get involved in what I was going through.

As we arrived at Sakura's apartment building and Jungkook's, Yoojin graciously helped me unload my luggage from the car. Despite his eagerness to carry it up to the unit, I insisted on managing it myself from the lobby. He persistently offered his assistance, leading to a gentle tug-of-war until I finally relented. Gratefully, I thanked him, and he bid me farewell with a series of respectful bows.

I stand in front of Sakura's door, trying to steady my nerves. Before I go in, I steal one last glance at Jungkook's apartment door. It hurts so much without him here. Realizing I won't be heading over to his place, like we always do, just makes everything feel so empty.

But we both needed this.

When I open Sakura's door, the smell of bacon and eggs hits me, making me think she's having brunch. But to my surprise, she's sitting on the couch, holding a glass of wine instead.

She's still in her silk pajamas, a soft headband holding back her hair as if she's about to wash her face, her other arms draped over the back of the couch.

She turned her head, looked me up and down before she take a sip from her wine. I set my luggage down near the door, then slowly make my way toward her. Without a word, I take the glass from her hand and drink it all, emptying it in one go.

The hangover and the throbbing migraine haven't left me, but right now, I'd rather numb myself with more alcohol than lie in bed overthinking every painful detail of my morning. I know rest is impossible for me right now, the thoughts too loud to let me find peace.

"That was my damn wine," Sakura said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I feel like I need a whole bottle of this," I retort, holding the wine glass at eye level, checking if there's a drop left. Just then, Sakura kneels on the couch cushion, reaching out to take the glass from me.

"We have a lot more important things to discuss than getting wasted, Y/N. So park yourself right here," she orders, tapping the seat beside her.

The sight of Sakura makes me want to hug her and let my tears soak on her shoulder. All the pain, all the emotions—I want to share everything with my best friend and pretend the last few hours didn't happen. A simple hug from her is all I need to feel a bit better, even if it's just for a moment.

Sitting down next to her, I sigh with my whole body and prop my feet up on the couch, curling my knees close to my chest. Resting my head on my knees, I muster the courage to say, "I'm scared of what you're going to tell me, you know? Even though I've already read those articles."