TINY LITTLE BOY

SIX

Lowly groaning, Jungkook turned around in his bed. The duvet embracing him in its pleasant homely warmth. Moving again, so he could slip his hand out from where it was situated underneath his body, he ran it through his messy brown locks before shooting up into a sitting position, feeling his head spin and rotate while black orbs covered his vision, his mouth strikingly agape. Those memories, they had to be a dream right? The stuffies, those brown eyes of Yoongi's widening in confusion, the tears, the swing. All that shit hadn't really happened had it? Silent pleads replaced the content silence in the room, quickly falling from his mouth, while tears prickled behind his eyelids in embarrassment, anger and fear. The difference from yesterdays tears was that he actually was in bigspace. Jungkook never cried in bigspace, only if shit really went down. Rubbing his eyes angrily, he tried to surpress the feelings whom was swivelling about inside him, causing his stomach to flip and heart to drop. 

Letting a few tears fall from his eyes, from pure fright and frustration, he otherwise managed to remain rather calm. And embittered. Why had Yoongi arrived on one of those days? Though he knew it was just a matter of time before the older would realise that he was bizarre, and then be disgusted, he had tried to put that day off as much as he could. Lately that meant trying not to leave his house as often as he normally would, to be able to regress into littlespace, so when Yoongi came around he would not need it. It also meant sleeping less to be up playing with toys, and ending up passing out on the carpet that covered the floor in his whole tiny apartment, and waking up with an aching body and a headache because of his stiff neck the next day. He had done everything in his power to avoid such incident to happen. Trying to keep his big secret to himself, his big secret that paradoxically was him being a little. But it happened either way, it slipped. Of course it had.

At least it was a saturday so he had the whole day to drown in his own sorrow and dissapointment. So he let himself snuggle under the covers for another half hour, feeling bad for himself and seeking comfort in the well-known warmth and silky surface of the textiles that caressed his body. At last he got tired of staring up into the ceiling, and decided to get up and at least try to contact the older.

Sitting down at his counter he heavily breathed out. He had given himself a full-on peptalk before this while eating his breakfast, but he still found his heartrate spiking while he sat there with his phone in his hand, watching how his fingers was forcefully cramped around it. The rings agonisingly slow, before the lady in the answering machine's grating and robotic voice rang out in the silence that surrounded the young man, who felt his heart that had formerly been caught in his throat, fall. Three calls later, he felt even more worthless. To at least try to let Yoongi know that he was deeply sorry, he sat down, trembling, feeling like his head was spinning, and typed down a text message just to delete it right after. To write another one, and delete that too, and like that he went on.

At last he ended up with a short simply message that just wrote, "Hyung, when you have time, please consider talking to me, I'm sorry".

He couldn't even focus on his work at the little cafe. Watching the coffee brew, steam slowly spiralling its way towards the cream-coloured ceiling, he failed to realise how his forehead was covered in wrinkles, and how prominent the bags under his eyes had become. Instead he was staring through the bright room, but it was as if someone had covered his vision with a grey filter, making the happy and warm colours seem dull and plain. Several days had gone by, and Yoongi still hadn't responded. He hadn't even read the messages Jungkook had sent him over the last couple days, pleading the older to at least let him explain himself. His co-workers had noticed that the ever so quiet kid, was even more quiet, and in the pauses, he would seek a corner where he could be alone. Normally they could at least sneak a snicker or a little smile and some words out of him. But he seemed to have regressed into his own little world of unhappiness. A particular kind girl, Jihyo, had even tried to get him to tell her what was wrong, and though he appreciated her effort, he had just said that he'd take care of it himself. His hands was visibly shaky afterwards though, her kindness had touched him more than he thought it had.

Sitting at home without anything to do and not regress into littlespace was now impossible because being in bigspace was too exhausting, the thoughts of the kiss, his behaviour, and most often, Yoongi's anger, floated around in his head as a dark threatening cloud, and wouldn't leave him alone. Something that annoyed him even more was the fact that he couldn't think back to the kiss without softly blushing and remembering how soft and right the olders lips had felt against his own. The feeling of safety and reassurance he had experienced in that moment, would make him question if it had really been that wrong? But it had been. Because Yoongi continued to refuse answering his many calls and messages, and he didn't want to go to the olders appartment and being denied access, getting told not to come again. And he was sure that it would indeed be the outcome. Knowing Yoongi, if he pressured the guy too much he would explode, leaving much worse consequences to take care of afterwards. And with their whole friendship at stake, Jungkook wasn't really fond of the thought of driving the fairskinned male over the edge.

So he waited, he regressed into littlespace; where he would often cry, he slept, he went to work, he did his homework and most of all, he hoped that Yoongi would contact him, and at least give him a chance to explain himself. He knew that he had to come clean about the little thing. Of course the older had noticed his weird behaviour. Normally he wouldn't break down crying nor have stuffies all over his room. But how to explain the kiss was the real issue. Just something he did in littlespace? It seemed too obvious that it wasn't true. But what else could he explain it with? Confessing to the older while trying to get him to listen, and understand, to the fact Jungkook was actually really sorry, didn't seem like the exact right thing to do either.

Lying under his warm covers monday morning, while the alarm went off in an annoying high tune, he frowned and turned his back to the loud clock on his bedside table. Seriously considering not to go to school on this particular day, he watched the sunbeams falling through the curtains and lightening stribes of his room, where the residents of his littlespace activities still roamed, coloring books, stuffies, plates, everything scattered all over the floor. Sighing to himself, he decided to get up, the clocks ringing getting impossibly louder, and at least get the mess he had made the last couple of days cleaned up before making his way to school. Shutting all of his thoughts out, which he found the most effective way to get on with his day, and ignoring the little pang in his heart when he saw yet another drawing titled with for Yoonie. Tearing it apart and throwing it out, he let the robotic part of his brain take over.