make way // jjk

4

August 31st. The day before school. The day before Jungkook's birthday.

Minah had encouraged you everyday to talk to Jungkook again, before school started, even when she brought you to the beach and the two of you lounged on those long chairs trying to soak up some Vitamin D.

"You've got to start talking to him again." Her sunglasses were on resting on top of her head, which was resting on the back of the white plastic chair.

"I don't know what to say."

"Well, I can see how much he matters to you. As the best friend in the middle, I am obliged to ask you to make up." She was looking at you seriously now, her face shaded by the huge umbrella towering over your seats.

"Fine."

---

Jeon Jungkook's fucking mansion, August 31st

You rang the doorbell, feeling trashy as you felt the little box in your hoodie pocket shift from the movement you made to reach the doorbell. No sound.

From Taehyung, childhood companion of both Jungkook and Minah, you heard that his parents were out on a business trip in (surprise, surprise) Seoul and that he had been staying home since summer started.

You wondered if the key you had still fit. The problem with being rich was the load of security problems you suffered even when you lived in a mansion with a guard stationed at the entrance. They changed locks every two weeks, and although the guard let you in after complimenting you on how much prettier you'd gotten in just 4 months, you couldn't ask him to open the door for you.

But it's all or nothing. Jungkook usually never heard the doorbell because of the loud music that he blared constantly on his speakers or headphones, meaning it would be unsurprising if he was home and in his room. What is he's out to buy something, though? It would be so awkward if he found me in his house without his permission...

It's all or nothing. You took your key out and jammed it nervously into the keyhole. It fit. For a moment, you just paused there, surprised. Then you turned the key and let yourself in.

Because Jungkook's parents were rarely ever home (and because they were as cool as your parents), all the decorations of the house was up to him, which you could see from the minimal black and white design, with dashes of red here and there (especially in his room). You always teased him for seeming like an avid fan of Mickey Mouse, as long as he had some yellow for the buttons on his pants, and for a while, you had the habit of bringing sunflowers to his house for that extra touch of yellow.

He reciprocated that when he went to yours by bringing Kummamon dolls. Your house was full of them. Was. You stopped yourself at that thought because the sight of your old house demolished a few weeks ago had killed you a little inside.

Now, walking up the jet black stairs (who te heck needs matte stairs?), you felt like nothing had changed, and you were just you from half a year ago visiting your best friend on a normal weekend, about to burst in to his room, wake him up and ask to watch a movie.

You headed down the corridor and saw that his door was closed, which was not very Jungkook. He was loud, boisterous, and loved it when everyone was in the house and made a lot of noise. So you padded towards his door, your tattered Converse left behind on the porch, and very quietly, opened his door.

It was a mess.

Jungkook was a clean person, maybe less so than Taehyung or Minah, but definitely recognizing that an organized room meant an organized mind, so the pile in the wardrobe corner that was composed of dirty socks, underwear and sweaty shirts and the empty pizza box laid across his speakers next to the TV opposite the bed (they were his babies) had you so, so confused.

You stepped in, now able to see the queen-sized bed with an Iron Man bed sheet. And the figure on it was staring out the window with their hair disheveled, their clothes disheveled and having a disheveled the Hulk blanket wrapped around them.

He didn't notice you. But then you stepped a little further inside right on that creaky spot on his wooden floor and cursed yourself as he swiveled around to look at you.

His face was unshaven, which was a look you had never seen on the meticulous Jungkook.
Then he spoke: "Who is it?"