Jinkook Short Stories: My Roommate

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Keep streaming: I'll Be There by Jin
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Days slipped by in the quiet tension of avoidance, with Jin keeping his distance and Jungkook growing quieter each time they passed one another. The apartment felt heavier, each room filled with memories and silences they couldn’t escape. Jin continued to wake early, avoiding even the possibility of seeing Jungkook first thing in the morning.

One evening, when Jin had retreated to his room to avoid overhearing Jungkook’s conversations with Mingyu, there was a soft knock on his door. He froze, dread settling in as he heard Jungkook's voice—a voice that, this time, sounded different, quieter, almost resigned.

"Jin," Jungkook called softly. "Please, just a minute."

Jin hesitated, feeling the familiar ache tighten around his chest. He considered staying silent, letting the moment pass. But something in Jungkook's voice—perhaps the sadness laced with his usual confidence—made him unlock the door.

He opened it just enough to see Jungkook's face, and it startled him. Jungkook looked worn, as if the weight of all the unspoken words between them had drained him.

“I know I’m the last person you want to talk to,” Jungkook started, his voice breaking slightly, “but I just want you to know that I’m sorry. Really, truly sorry. I thought… I thought I could manage it all without hurting you. But I was wrong.”

Jin swallowed, his walls trembling. “Why are you telling me this now?” he managed, the bitterness slipping away as he looked into Jungkook’s eyes.

“Because… I’m realizing I can’t pretend everything is okay,” Jungkook admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t pretend I didn’t hurt you. And I know you need space, but I don’t want you to think that you’re… alone in this.”

Jin felt his heart soften despite himself. He was still angry, still wounded, but Jungkook’s words held a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t a solution, not by any means, but it was a start—an acknowledgment of the hurt they both carried.

“Thank you,” Jin whispered, his voice tinged with both relief and sadness. “I… I don’t know where we go from here, but… thank you for saying that.”

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet, the air between them no longer filled with silence but with a tentative understanding. Jungkook gave him a small, pained smile before nodding and stepping back, letting Jin close the door.

As Jin lay in bed that night, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in days—hope.

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The days that followed held a fragile truce between Jin and Jungkook. They continued to give each other space, careful with every glance, every word, as if afraid to disturb the delicate peace that had settled over them. But something had shifted. Their interactions, though few and far between, felt less burdened by resentment and more touched by a quiet understanding.

Jin still woke up early to avoid Jungkook, but now he found himself lingering in the kitchen just a little longer, his heart easing at the familiar clinking sounds as Jungkook moved about his morning routine. Each accidental encounter was less tense than the last, each brush past him in the hallway less painful. He began to feel that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to heal.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting day, Jin returned home to find Jungkook sitting alone at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of tea steaming in his hands. His eyes met Jin’s as he walked in, an almost hopeful look flickering across his face.

“Hey,” Jungkook greeted, his voice soft.

“Hey,” Jin replied, surprised at how natural it felt to respond. He hesitated, glancing at the empty seat beside Jungkook, then made a decision. “Mind if I join?”

Jungkook’s eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly, scooting over to give Jin more space. Jin settled in, feeling the warmth of the tea radiate from Jungkook’s cup as he leaned in a little closer than usual.

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks, before Jungkook spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I’ve missed this, Jin.”

Jin glanced at him, surprised. “You have?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I know it sounds stupid, especially after everything I’ve put you through. But I miss our late-night talks, the stupid jokes, the… the way things used to be.”

Jin’s heart softened at Jungkook’s honesty, his walls crumbling just a little more. He knew the journey to healing wasn’t over, but Jungkook’s words gave him the courage to be vulnerable.

“I miss it too, Jungkook,” Jin admitted, his voice laced with a mixture of sadness and hope. “I thought I could just shut it all out… pretend I didn’t care. But I do. And it’s been… hard.”

Jungkook nodded, his expression pained. “I know. I was selfish, Jin. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I took your feelings for granted. I’m sorry.”

Jin looked down at his cup, the weight of Jungkook’s words sinking in. It wasn’t an easy apology to accept—there were still wounds that needed time to heal—but he could sense the sincerity in Jungkook’s voice. And perhaps that was enough for now.

“Maybe… maybe we could take it slow?” Jin suggested, his voice tentative. “No pressure, no expectations. Just… friends, for now?”

A soft smile spread across Jungkook’s face as he nodded. “Friends. I’d like that.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or tense. Instead, it felt like a gentle embrace, a space where they could both breathe and be themselves without fear or pretense. They sat together, exchanging stories from their day, sharing quiet laughs and comfortable silences until the night grew late.

And as Jin went to bed that night, he felt a weight lifting from his heart, replaced by a glimmer of hope. The pain was still there, but now, it was accompanied by a small spark of possibility—a chance to rebuild, to find something new amidst the ashes of what they once were.

Thanks for standby ☺️