Sylvania || jjk

21

The first thing Chaeng felt was warmth.

Soft. Steady. Familiar.

She stirred, her eyelids heavy, blinking against the dim morning light slipping through the cottage window. Her breath hitched as she realized—she wasn’t alone.

She was wrapped in someone’s arms.

Her cheek was pressed against a firm, steady chest. The slow, deep rhythm of breathing vibrated through her skin. A scent—his scent—lingered in the air, a mix of pine, crisp winter, and something undeniably Jungkook.

Her heart stopped.

Her fingers were curled into his shirt. Her legs tangled with his. His arm, heavy and protective, draped over her waist, holding her close like she was something precious.

Her entire body burned.

Memories from last night flooded back in an instant.

The potion. Her words. The desperate way she clung to him. The kisses. The way he held her, soothed her, whispered words that felt too real.

Chaeng’s soul screamed at her to stay still—to never move again.

But her brain snapped back into reality.

She was in bed. With Jungkook.

And she wasn’t supposed to be.

Her breath hitched.

Jungkook stirred beside her.

His grip tightened for a second, as if refusing to let go. Then his breathing changed, turning shallower. His eyelashes fluttered, and a low, sleepy groan rumbled from his throat.

Chaeng froze.

His eyes opened—half-lidded, still clouded with sleep.

And then, he saw her.

For a moment, silence hung between them.

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His hold loosened slightly, his thumb unconsciously brushing against her waist.

Chaeng felt like dying.

His brows furrowed, sleep still weighing heavy on his features.

Then, his gaze hardened.

“…Chaeng?” His voice was rough, thick with morning and confusion.

Chaeng swallowed hard.

And before he could ask anything else—before he could realize how deeply she had fallen last night—she shoved him away and bolted out of bed.

Chaeng's heart was racing.

She practically jumped out of bed, her hands gripping the edges of her oversized sleep shirt like it could somehow shield her from the intensity of what just happened.

Jungkook sat up, rubbing his face, still groggy. His dark hair was a mess, his lips slightly parted in confusion. "What the hell was that?" he muttered. His voice was still rough, his mind clearly trying to catch up.

Chaeng could not look at him.

She didn’t want to know what he was thinking—if he remembered the way she clung to him, whispered all those ridiculous, too-real confessions, or how she begged for his warmth.

"I—um—I need to—" She spun around, searching desperately for an excuse. "Bathroom!" she blurted before dashing toward the door.

Jungkook blinked, watching her disappear like a ghost. "...What?"