Bulletproof

7b. Cora

His lips move excitedly, but she just wants to still them with her own. The blush pink makes his teeth look like pearls, and she can feel the ghostly pressure of those teeth taking her bottom lip between them. There is a desperate need to feel it again, not as an act of sexual desire but as a confirmation that Jungkook is real and will continue to exist even when he's among a platoon instead of in her arms.

"--right, Cora?"

Her eyes move up his face to meet his dark irises, and she gets lost in them. She relives the memories of their light during sacred midnight conversations. She is searching for something in them now: a sign that this isn't a goodbye, a sign that they are both putting their hopes in the right things, in the right country.

But all she finds is childish enthusiasm that only heightens her building anxiety.

"Right, Jungkook," she whispers, only half-sure of what the question was.

His head leans further out the bus window, and he taps her nose with an outstretched finger.

"You look distracted," he laughs. "Are you okay?"

She nods, but in her mind, she is screaming.

We're too young, Jungkook! We need more time. We made the wrong choice. We don't know what we want. We're too damn young!

"You promise to write?" she asks quietly as she tries to push her fears to the back of her mind.

He smirks. "That depends. You promise to respond?"

"Of course, I'll respond, you dummy." She means to chuckle as she speaks, to turn the words into a joke, but they come out like a cry.

Jungkook cocks his head and frowns. "Cora, what's--"

She quickly shakes her head and fakes a smile. "Look at you, Jungkook. All slicked up and ready to serve your country."

He grins again, all traces of concern disappearing into the creases of his laugh lines. "I sure am! Those German hellions won't know what hit them once I pick up my gun. I'm going to win this war, baby."

"Not single-handedly, I hope." She reaches up to caress his round cheek. "You have a platoon for a reason, Kookie."

He wrinkles his nose at the nickname. "Cora, not in public." She genuinely smiles.

"But I've got to tell my baby he's the sweetest thing in my life."

Jungkook sticks his tongue out and grabs her hand, lacing her fingers together. He waves their interlocked hands around.

"You're sappy, you know that? There's no room for sentimentality in war," he teases.

She bites her lip to keep from telling him he's wrong; war is the time humanity needs sentimentality the most.

"Jungkook...you're going to be careful, right?"

His brow is set. "I'm going to do what I have to do to keep you safe." He drums his fingers against the back of her hand. "You're my world, Cora. I'm not letting those heathens threaten this country and hold your life hostage."

"God bless America," she whispers.

It is a philosophy that makes sense to the two of them--complete, unwavering loyalty to their country. It feels right. Or it felt right in the moment when he signed his life away.

But Jungkook's judgement is clouded by a warped perception of how to express love. Maybe hers is, too. The both of them have grown so used to each other; their branches are so interconnected, they are one in the same.

He will sacrifice anything in the name of her freedom, give his life for hers in an instant. And in theory, if it was anyone else, she'd let it happen. She would let a million men die for the country's democratic salvation. That monster Hitler needs to be destroyed, and if an American can do it, that's one more medal to honor the United States and one more dictator threat conquered.

But Jungkook is another story.

Jeon Jungkook cannot give it all. As much as she wants to live in a free world, she will never be granted liberty if a Japanese soldier severs her ties to reality with a bullet through Jungkook's heart.

The hydraulics of the bus's brakes hiss, and it almost sounds like the devil is laughing, a rush of air scraping against metal in a sour declaration of imminent separation.

Jungkook's face lights up, the glint of the sun dancing in his giddy eyes as he glances towards the front of the bus. He kisses his fingers and reaches them down quickly to tap her forehead.

"Bye, Cora! I love you!"

She tries to hold his hand against the skin of her face, but the bus begins to move, dragging an all-too-willing Jungkook towards the war she suddenly wants to turn her back on.

"Kookie." Her voice wavers as she starts to walk alongside the bus, but he isn't looking at her. His eyes are glued to the ideal that lies ahead--the dream of glory in battle, the manhood he is convinced he will earn through the crucible of death.

It's a nightmare come to life: the bus seems to be moving in slow motion, and all she wants to do is catch Jungkook, halt his journey towards slaughter. But her legs are lead swamped in molasses, her progress nonexistent, toes consumed by bottomless quicksand.

Her cause is hopeless.

"Jungkook." She's a little louder now. He looks back at her as the bus picks up speed and waves enthusiastically.

"I love you!" he calls again.

And now she is jogging, fighting to keep pace with the vehicle, leaving behind the families of passengers content to watch those they love disappear into oblivion.

Nobody else seems to understand the urgency of her struggle. They stand as roadblocks, unyielding to her weak shoves. The bus hurtles away from her, Jungkook's black hair whipping in the breeze as he hangs out the window, saluting.

"Jungkook!" she screams, face contorting and voice coming out mangled with tears.

And it finally hits him that something is wrong. She is just close enough to watch his expression transform, eyebrows furrowing, mouth parting in confusion, irises glassy with concern.

And then he vanishes around the street corner, leaving her to collapse among complete strangers and wish Jungkook wasn't so much braver than she.