Come Back | Yoonkook

Chapter 3

Sighing to myself as I glance at the clock one last time, I push myself up off of the couch and begin to head into the kitchen. It's ten thirty now, and Jungkookie is usually back by nine. I'd normally help him with making dinner, but he never wanted me doing it alone just in case temptation were to potentially set in.

Though, it's getting late and I've yet to hear back from Kookie after I'd texted him an hour ago to find out what was holding him up, only to get a delayed response that he'd be home soon. It's been over forty minutes since then.

I can't afford to stay up too late tonight though, considering I have eight o'clock classes tomorrow morning.

Glancing down to my phone one more time with worry and sorrow, I decide to send him one more text to see if he's alright before setting it down on the counter. Trying to busy myself rather than worry over the younger for the entire night, I begin looking through the pantry and fridge to see what all we still have. I merely decide to play it safe and go with ramen though, knowing it won't take too long to make even though I've come to hate the taste of it thanks to my time spent in the hospital.

It's as I finish up making myself a bowl of the noodles that I hear my phone buzz with a notification, finding a text from Jungkook.

Me: Kookie, you doing okay? You said you'd be home soon, but you still aren't...

Kookiemonster: Why wouldn't everything be fine? I told you, I'll be there soon.

I frown at the message, not understanding why he sounds somewhat frustrated. Before I realize it, there's tears forming in my eyes and I have to take a few deep breaths as I lay the device back down.

Deciding instead not to respond, I grab my bowl and chopsticks before heading over to the table. Staring down at the food in the bowl in front of me, I can't help but to worry. We're only a week and a half away from our four year anniversary, and now some new guy is cutting his way into the picture...

Shaking my head at myself, I force myself to begin eating, glancing back over at the stove top that's still lit. My gaze lingers on the blue flames as I slowly start eating, recognizing the familiarly painful urge to go back over to it. I don't even notice the tears that begin to roll down my cheeks as I eat, gaze locked on the heat at the stovetop where I'd made the ramen.

Finishing up eating, I grab my bowl and chopsticks, bringing everything over to the sink to be cleaned tomorrow.

Not even fully noticing my actions, I make my way over to the stove until I'm stood directly in front of the fire, being able to feel the heat of the flames. I don't know how long I spend standing there staring at it until I finally move, lifting my hand up just above the fire. I smile a little at the feeling of its warmth, barely realizing what I'm doing as I bring my hand down to the flames and running it around the ring full circle a few times before retracting my hand and dropping it back to my side.

I can feel the pain suddenly start to crawl up my arm a bit, and I glance down to my bare arm, finding decent colorized burn marks running through the center of my palm, up the side of my thumb, and down around my wrist and a tiny bit of my forearm. As realization crashes down through my at what I've just done, I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before turning the stovetop off and walking away.

Grabbing my phone, I go straight to our bedroom before dropping to my knees in front of the side of the bed.

My body feels numb as I reach underneath the bed, pulling out a small box that I'd thought I'd never need to touch again. There's mild disappointment echoing through my body as I bandage my hand and forearm up, but it doesn't cover the pain of the fact that it's past eleven now and Jungkook still isn't home.

I try not to think of either subject as I shove the box back underneath the bed when I finish, standing up and making my way over to the dresser that's opposite the wall that our bed headboard is pressed up against. Shakily sifting through my clothes, I pull out one of my favorite sweaters and a pair of gray sweats. The sweater is a tad big on me, but I don't mind it as I quickly get changed.

Checking my phone one last time for anymore messages from my boyfriend, I sigh as I flick the bedroom lights off.

Though, just as I'm crawling into bed and shutting my eyes for the night, I hear our front door open.