Devil's Match! [j.jk×p.jm]

05- first wish

At dawn, Jungkook stood by the window, the early light casting long shadows across the room. The card lay on the table before him, a lingering reminder of something he no longer wished to carry. With a slow, deliberate breath, he took it in his hand, the edges rough against his fingertips, and stepped outside into the cool, crisp air.

He walked to the dumpster at the end of the street, the world still quiet and asleep. Without hesitation, he tossed the card into the heap of discarded things, watching as it vanished into the darkness of the bin. For a moment, he lingered, staring down at it as though expecting it to reemerge.

Later, the hum of the garbage truck echoed through the streets. Jungkook watched from a distance as the mechanical arm lifted the dumpster and emptied its contents into the truck, the card buried among the refuse. It was gone. A strange sense of relief washed over him.

As the truck rumbled away, Jungkook exhaled, his shoulders light for the first time in days. He was free. Free of the damn card and all that came with it, finally untethered from its weight.

Jungkook leaned against the doorframe, the weight of Mr. Jung's words crashing over him like a wave. The hallway felt suffocating, and he could still hear the echo of Mr. Jung's frustrated knocks vibrating in his ears.

"Jungkook?! Open the door! We need to talk!" Mr. Jung's voice sliced through the early morning silence, firm and unyielding. Each ring of the doorbell punctuated the tension building within Jungkook, a mix of irritation and dread.

With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself off the door and turned the knob, revealing the stormy figure of his landlord.

"What’s going on?" Jungkook asked, trying to mask his apprehension with nonchalance.

Mr. Jung stood there, fists clenched at his sides, his expression one of unfiltered annoyance. “Get your fucking things together and go to hell. I'm kicking you out.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, disbelief flooding through him. “You can't fucking dump me like a bad Tinder date!” he shot back, attempting to inject some humor into the situation, but the humor fell flat.

“Yes, I can! You haven't paid your rent in two months!” Mr. Jung's voice thundered, the anger spilling over as he stepped closer.

“Come on!” Jungkook chuckled incredulously, trying to brush it off. “I’m just between jobs! I’ll bring you money!”

“Shut up. Pack your shit. I don’t run a shelter for losers.” Mr. Jung’s tone was sharp, each word a dagger aimed at Jungkook’s pride.

“Loser? You're the one who looks like you just climbed out of a mop bucket! This place is my home!” Jungkook spat, stepping back into his apartment, arms crossed defensively.

“Home? This place stinks like a dirty sock! I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation.” Mr. Jung’s disdain was palpable, and Jungkook could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

“That's just the smell of potential! Are you telling me you've never been broke?” Jungkook countered, frustration lacing his voice as he gestured wildly around the cluttered apartment.

“Yeah, and I didn’t sit around like a lazy donkey waiting for someone to save me,” Mr. Jung snapped back, his patience wearing thin.

Jungkook clenched his jaw, frustration boiling inside him. “Fine! But you can’t just throw me away like some trash! What about my emotional baggage?”

“Your emotional baggage is your damn problem, not mine! Get it together, or I’ll call the cops,” Mr. Jung warned, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Jungkook’s frown deepened as he took a step closer to the slightly taller man, his voice low and challenging. “What if I promise to pay you back in good karma? Huh?”