Laundromat Machine

but

A night at the wash saloon without Yoongi suddenly was wasted to Jungkook and he wondered where the male was, it wasn't like he didn't know him by now a little more.

Yoongi was good at making jokes, better ones than Seokjin at least but Jungkook was replaying the memory of him in his mind.

Mindless had he seen him wander around when the sun was out, from a distance, because Jungkook didn't dare to approach him anywhere else than in the saloon.

When it was bright you just could see the faces of those better that were wasted, used and tired.

During the day time Yoongi looked like he had found a corpse, like he was about to vomit, he looked dissapointed but mostly disgusted in a way Jungkook couldn't understand and he was wondering where the other male was spending his nights.

Was he laying in his own blood?

Jungkook couldn't tell what it was, but there was something in his chest that scratched, ached and took away his breath, it was causing his throat to get dry and the walls of his flesh closed and pulled themselves together, like it was filling itself with the blood of his guts.

He could just feel that Yoongi wasn't busy getting in trouble, but whoever was with Yoongi right know must've laid his fingers on him, because people at an hour like that were either sleeping, crying or simply having sex.

Jungkook couldn't distinguish what this feeling had been until the last thought hit him, like fists against Yoongi's eyes.

It was jealousy, he was plain jealous, one of those habbits he had been taught to get rid off.

'Jealousy only makes you unhappy, sweetie.'

,,Oh mother." , he mumbled to himself.

His hands were getting cold but the blood in his veins boiled and it seemed to rush to his brain so all the thoughts he had could rush even faster through the so often used paths, stair cases and streets that were formed inside his mind.

Jungkook was just over thinking again.

He was thinking about the way Yoongi might be touched in the moment and how it might feel to him, fingers all over his sensitive snow skin, that looked like somebody had thrown blueberry bombs on him. Yoongi must've tasted well, Jungkook could already imagine his taste in his mouth, it had formed from the males scent that still sticked a bit on the shirt Yoongi had given to stop the flow of Jungkook's nosebleed.

Sweet, but with a bitter note, that was what Yoongi must taste like.

Bittersweet.

Jungkook desired it, he craved this taste of bittersweet love but instead all he got was dull taste of sour on his tongue.

The taste of wicked jealousy.

Like a punch in his guts.