Right One

𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞

A/n pov:

It was close to mine thirty when Jungkook came back home, shoulders slumped, figure sluggish, with dragging feet— as if not wanting to move but need to.

Swollen, red rimmed —bloodshot—  eyes, pale cheeks, pretty pink lips chapped, tousled hair, tie half-tied, shirt untucked, a few buttons of his crisp— now crinkled— white shirt unbuttoned, long face, droppy and sleepy eyes shut closed..... he looked every bit of the protagonist in a tragic drama where his small being is weighed down by all the worries and problems of the world to solve all alone my himself.

If he could, he'd drop down and let sleep take over him at the living room, where he stood right at this moment, but he let his feet drag him towards his bedroom, body moving as if on autopilot. He struggled to take another step up the stairs, feeling as if getting up through a stair is the hardest labour anyone could ever commit, face twisted in pain.

He let out a dramatic sigh and placed a hand on his back to straighten himself, groaning loudly when the backbone made some cracking noise.

‘Appa surely did tested my stamina today— ugh-!!’ he thought to himself and inhaled deeply, gathering as much oxygen he could in his lungs— as though preparing for a war only he had to fight, alone, against a whole customized monster.

‘A few more..! You can do it!’ cheering himself in his head he took three more steps and he was now standing in front of his bedroom door. He smiled sheepishly and ran straight without looking at the front— uh- only to bump with a hard surface,— hardly.. squinting his eyes, He frowned at the closed door questioning his whole existence.

He stood still for whole four seconds processing everything— or more like gathering some more energy to open his lidded eyes, while asking himself why the door is closed when it struck him... Taehyung.

He must be home. Yeah. He remembered and cursed at himself for not informing the elder about his pre-fixed late arrival. He tried knocking but no one opened the door, confused, he tried to twist the door knob and it opened. Just like that.

‘I HATE MYSELF!!’ He screamed at himself in his head and waddled inside the room and found none.

The room was empty as if no one had been there. The room was exactly the same as it'd been when he left. But shrugging it off, he went to the bathroom and turned the shower on, and leaned towards the sink, turning the faucet on. He washed his face and went back to stand under the shower, not even bothering to take his clothes off.

The water trickled down his body, soaking his shirt, making it cling to his body like a second skin. The bare skin of his neck, collarbone and slightly puffed chest glistened with moisture because of the water and he sighed loudly— almost moaned.

After half an hour of more showering, he stepped out of the bathroom with a small towel wrapped around his waist, and dressed himself in a bunny and carrot printed cream coloured shorts and a loose silk shirt, finally feeling alive after a torturous, agonizing long working hours.

He looked around for any sign of Taehyung. A sign that'd indicate Taehyung's presence had been here while he was away. But found none. Again.

With a barely contained groan, he took his phone from the bed— he had no idea how it got there, he just found it laying like a dead corpse— and plugged it to the charger, then dialed a number.

"Mah Taehyungie hyungie-hyung ✨"

Taehyung answered the call at the fifth ring, as if he'd foreseen the call coming, and said, “East wing, second floor, third room in the left, at the farthest corner in the dark.” and the call was cut.