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1989 | seoul, sk _________________________
and the love came in all forms: physical, emotional, in halves, in wholes ... and sometimes it came as too much - too much to ever be returned ... love that stopped at the door and never stepped foot into what could have been - what kind of love even is that?
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the ceiling, a dull, worn creme structure above his head, is what jungkook has been staring at for several hours now. he was always like this whenever he woke up the night after a concert. and the seoul concerts were always the most exhausting - he's screamed his voice raw and he can still feel the ghost-like touches of the thousands of hands that had touched him that night, grabbing at him and trying to meld into him. now that he and sora's ruse of being junghwa and soso had been exposed back in tokyo, last night had been their first official night performing as jungkook and sora, and the fans had gone mad. security had been in a frenzy trying to keep the girls, and even boys, from climbing on stage and creating a repeat of the tokyo show. needless to say, after all of the chaos, jungkook was exhausted. he had no plans of leaving his apartment today. instead, he was perfectly content to just stare at the ceiling all day as he drifted in and out of slumber.
his eyelids were beginning to feel droopy again, and just as he feels himself being lulled back to the dream world, the sound of his front door opening catches his attention. he isn't panicked, because only a handful of people had a key to his apartment, and that was limited to his band mates and yui. he had given it to arata once and the man had taken advantage of it, popping in unexpectedly to show off his new wigs and showing up with bottles of wine and cheesy romance movies that he'd spend 50% of the movie batting his eyelashes at jungkook like a desperate teenager. needless to say, jungkook then promptly got his locks changed, and this time he made sure arata did not have the key.
the jeon boy swallows dryly, peeking an eye open when his room door opens slowly.
"rise and shine, sleepy head." a familiar, soft voice calls out before a body climbs into bed beside him, silky white strands of hair tickling his stomach, making jungkook laugh as sora makes himself comfortable beside him, the guitarist resting his head on the singer's stomach.
"why are you up so early?" jungkook's voice is a raspy grunt that makes sora giggle, a quiet sound in the otherwise silent room.
"arata made me accompany him to a promo event today." sora informs him before cringing, "it was just a group of old men drinking wine and drooling over young singers .... one of them implied that he'd get our songs on the radio if i .... y-you know, with him in the bathroom."
"i'll kill him." jungkook grumbles, suddenly more alert as he wraps his arms around sora protectively.
"i doubt he'll be scared if your voice cracks in the middle of you threatening him, little brother." sora replies with a devious grin, revealing his true playful nature that only seemed to surface when the two were alone.
