[ complete ] 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 𝐅𝐅

65. Blue Eyed Drama King

Jungkook’s POV —

The living room was glowing in soft afternoon light, filled with the usual buzz of kid noises, suitcase zippers, and the faint smell of coconut oil—because Y/n was on operation braid mode. Aarohi sat like a little princess on the floor, legs crossed, her head tilted slightly as Y/n’s fingers moved with swift precision, tying neat little plaits and humming something under her breath.

I was just about to click open an email when the thud-thud-thud of confident footsteps echoed down the hallway.

And then he entered—Advait.

Eight years old going on eighteen, with that ridiculous swag he picked up from somewhere (and by somewhere, I obviously mean me, but I’m not taking responsibility today).

His blue eyes shimmered like they had a secret, chin up, lips pursed like he was walking a damn fashion ramp in Milan, not the hallway to the living room.

One hand in his pocket. The other ruffling his perfectly styled hair.

The kid walked like he paid taxes.

“Why does he walk like that?” I whispered to Y/n.

“He watched you enter a board meeting once and decided that’s his brand now,” she muttered back without looking up.

Advait sauntered in and stood dramatically in front of Y/n, then flopped into her lap like he was royalty taking his throne.

“Why are you doing her hair?” he asked with narrowed eyes. “Do mine too. I’m jealous.”

Y/n blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden lap invasion. “Advait! I’m braiding Aarohi’s hair. You don’t have long hair.”

“I still want you to brush it,” he said, flipping his hair dramatically. “Make me look cool. Like a K-pop star.”

“You already act like one,” I called out from the couch.

He turned and pointed a finger at me. “Exactly. You understand me, Appa.”

Aarohi narrowed her eyes, annoyed at her brother stealing her hair spotlight. “You can’t even braid! And your hair is flat like your math grade!”

“OHHHHHHHH,” I choked. “Damn, that was savage.”

Advait clicked his tongue. “Don’t be jealous just because your legs are shorter.”

And with that, he knuckled her head playfully. A little too playfully.

Y/n didn’t even have time to react before Aarohi burst into tears.

“UMMAAAAAA! He hurt me!”

“Oh my god, Advait!” Y/n scolded, grabbing him by the shoulders. “What did I tell you about being gentle with your sister?”

“She has a hard head!” he shrugged. “I didn’t mean to! It was a love tap!”

“It was a hate tap!” Aarohi cried, already running toward me like I was her personal emotional support system.

She dove into my lap dramatically, burying her face in my chest. “Appa, he called me short and hit my head!”

I blinked, wrapping my arms around her. “Okay first, let’s not call each other short or flat or anything else that sounds like a TikTok insult. Second… Advait, apologize. Now.”

“Do I have to?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

Y/n turned her head and gave him the look. The same one she gives me when I eat directly from the Nutella jar at 2 AM.