Jungkook has made many mistakes. But that didn't make it any less regretful.
When he walked in on his girlfriend, well, ex girlfriend, lying in bed with some guy that wasn't him, this was the first of many that would plague him in his sleep.
The second one was an accident. She was a photographer, catching his eye the moment he saw her. Apparently he caught hers too. He found himself standing on set, a plain white background behind him. The only sound in the room would be their synchronized breathing, and the sound of the camera shutter clicking. She called him her Muse, always pausing to place a quick kiss on his cheek between breaks.
Never once were the words I love you exchanged between them.
It wasn't ideal that he found out that way, but he learned long ago that those things happen. It started with a Polaroid, sitting between the pages of one of her books. It was of a man, which didn't unsettle him too much, until he read the back. In her messy handwriting, it read, my Muse, and then yesterdays date. He packed up and left without a trace, knowing that she wouldn't care in the end.
The third one didn't affect him half as much as the first two. By now, he was getting wasted regularly, and had some unhealthy...habits. If you ever saw him, chances were he had a cigarette dangling between his lips, eye bags dark and prominent, hair mussed and greasy.
He met her in a club. She didn't like commitments, and he didn't think he owned a heart anymore. It worked out well. But it still hurt when he found her kissing a man in the alleyway behind a club they frequented. Maybe he did have a heart. Because it stung like hell.
"You didn't want a commitment," and a shrug was her only response to his shouts of anger.
He began to think that maybe it was him.
Maybe he was the reason all those women cheated on him. Maybe he was just a plan b. Maybe he was just trash. Maybe he was worthless. Maybe his parents were right. Maybe his friends that all abandoned him and had their own families abandoned him for a reason.
The fourth one was different.
When he found her, it wasn't on the street or in a club. It wasn't a random one night stand, or a sleazy waitress who wore more makeup than clothes.
When she found him, he was wasted out of his mind, cigarette balanced between his fingers, wearing just a grey fitted T-shirt and ripped black skinny jeans.
Despite the freezing cold December weather, he stayed in his place outside the door to an apartment, not quite sure what he was doing or how he got there. All he knew was that he can't feel his fucking fingers, and maybe the person inside will give him some hot tea or maybe even some money to rent a motel room for the night.
He knocked once, twice, three times, wobbling unsteadily on his feet. After ten seconds passed, he began to grow anxious, as if just realizing the ungodly time of night. He glanced around nervously, because you didn't want to be alone at night, not even in a slightly nicer area like this.
After an eternity, the door opened a crack, a soft voice floating through.
"Who are you?" It asked. Jungkook swore he was going to say his name, and maybe add in something like help me please?
But the only thing he could manage was a soft grunt, and then he collapsed, exhaustion and the effects of the alcohol overtaking him. The last thing he registered was a soft gasp, and then small hands catching his weight.
When he woke up, he had a pounding headache. Dammit. But once the ringing in his head faded, he realized he was the most comfortable he had been in a while. There was a soft blanket covering him, smelling like vanilla and cinnamon. When he was able to open his eyes, he glanced down to see it was a Winnie the Pooh pattern, the yellow bear digging his hand indulgently into a pot of honey.
