𝙐𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 ❤ (𝙹𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 💜)

19) A Strange Kind of Morning

Jungkook's pov

The door clicked shut behind me.
I stood in the middle of my room, arms crossed, back rigid, heart… racing.

Why?

Why the hell was my chest so tight?

It was just a meal.

Just rice, some stew, and a couple of side dishes. I’ve cooked better. I’ve cooked for others.

But this—

This felt like I was trying to win a battle I didn’t even know I was fighting.

I sat on the edge of my bed, elbows resting on my knees, palms locking together.

My fingers tapped against each other nervously.

I hated how aware I was of the silence outside my room. The way his presence lingered, even though I couldn’t see him anymore.

I cooked.

For him.

I don’t do that.

I didn’t even realize I was preparing two portions until I saw the empty plate across from mine. And before I could talk myself out of it, I had already set the table for both of us.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Jimin didn’t even want to come out.
Had to be practically dragged with a glare. Typical.

But when he finally opened that door—
Looking exhausted. Hollow-eyed. Shrunk into himself like a shadow—

Something in me… snapped.

And when he saw the food, that look of genuine shock in his eyes—
That expression is going to stay with me way longer than it should.

He looked like he hadn’t been cared for in years.
Like even a simple meal was a luxury. A surprise.

Why though?

Why does he look like that?

Why does someone who used to smile like the sun now look like he’s hiding in a cave, flinching from every sound?

And why does my chest hurt watching it?

I rubbed my hand over my face.

I told him not to get used to it. Told him I only cooked because of Grandpa.

Lied again.

Covered again.

Because I don’t understand this part of me that’s trying so hard.

He's supposed to be annoying.
A burden.
The person who ruined the balance of my life.

But tonight, when I saw that empty pouch in the trash and realized he’d been surviving on just coffee again—
I don’t know what came over me.

He looked like he was disappearing.

And now I’m the one struggling to breathe.

I hate this.

I hate him.

…Don’t I?

God, I don’t even know anymore.

I stood up abruptly and started pacing.

He’s in the next room. Just a few feet away.

Silent.

Locked up again.

Hiding.

I want to knock. Ask him what the hell is going on.