The Apocalypse

Chapter 14

*knock*
*knock*
*knock*

I shift around under the blanket hoping that he'd leave. I wanted to be alone and sort out my thoughts.

But the knocking continues. And continues. And continues.

Throwing the blanket off , I storm towards the door, right now I didn't care who was there or what they wanted. I needed time to think.

I slam open the door, very obviously pissed off and still not fully awake yet.

"Uh (Y/N) go downstairs. Dinner,"

My mind wakes up enough for me to concentrate on the speaker, Jungkook, with a finger pointing downwards.

His mushroom hair was damp and he changed into a new shirt, this one was much tighter making every single crevace and bump below visible ....damn.

My attention was surely at its optimum now, I gulped. "Jungkook I really need to be alone right now," I say peeling my eyes away.

While waiting for his reply I scan him to see if he got injured or something in the past week, everywhere except the torso because my unholy mind would not let my eyes leave that view if I were to see it again.

No injuries other than a bruise or two but I notice that his black roots have grown in, his hair was black fading into dark brown. It was cockroach colour.

I grimace at the observation.

That makes me wonder, how are the rest of the members hair still dyed such bright colours, black roots only showing now.

My attention is drawn away from his hair to his mouth. He was calling my name several times, I guess he noticed I zoned out.

"Huh?"

"It is okay?" He asks.

What is okay? I just nod and hope it wasn't something too extreme. He walks away without another word.

I had absolutely zero idea as to what I just agreed to, but it's jungkook. Shouldn't be too bad.

I leave the door slightly ajar in case he decides to come back and dive back under the covers, burying my face in the pillow.

Wait... what on earth happened to my resolve of wanting to be alone.

Soon the door slowly creaks open, I turn my head enough to catch a glipse of Jungkook walking in with a tray of food, trying his best to not drop it while shutting the door with his foot.

The smell of lasagne fills the room once more, it's as if the supposed murderer has a lifetime supply of lasagne stashed away somwhere in the house.

I feel the side of the bed dip as he climbs in placing the tray, with 2 plates down carefully.

Sitting u, I thank him before I begin to eat but then notice his plate of food is still untouched. He had a fork in hand as he sat cross-legged across me, so 1 piece was definitely meant for him.

He was staring at the layers of pasta meat and cheese as if it were the most unfathomable object he has ever seen.

...maybe, he can't use forks like how I can't use chopsticks.

Wow did I look like that, they must've thought I was an imbecile.

"Do you need help?" I ask while pointing at his untouched food.

He looked up and shook his head and with such confidence he said "I got this," he then proceeded to stab the fork right in the centre of the rectangular slice of food, after that he was back to square one.