My Euphoria | JJK

21 | Euphoria

[Anna]

After the performance I decided to wait five minutes before marching into the dressing room.

It felt safe to say I made the right decision and avoided any kind of awkward situation.

On my way to the dressing room I couldn't stop wondering why JungKook asked me to meet him there.

I nearly bumped into a few people, but I didn't really care, because my mind wasn't there.

It was going over every possibility why JungKook could have sent me that message.

My decision to wait proved as a right one as I ran into the members coming from backstage.

Each gave me a mysterious smile and Namjoon winked as he passed me.

Now I was utterly confused.

I navigated my way through the corridors and found the right door.

A large number 8 was written on the top and then BTS on a paper stuck to them.

I felt butterflies in my stomach, but I reminded myself not to be nervous.

You know him. Why are you even nervous?

I took a breath and knocked.

Nothing.

"JungKook?"

Then finally, "Yeah!"

I opened the door and saw him, standing in the middle of the room still in his stage outfit.

"Surprise!"

The shirt was unbuttoned at the top and it showed his tiny waist. His hair was messy, a bit damp and all I wanted to do in that moment was to run my hands through it.

There he was. Just staring at me like I was the most beautiful painting in the world.

So I stared back.

The curve of his yaw made my breath hitch and a look at his lips made mine part.

My cheeks cought on fire and I was again thankful to the makeup.

I hoped he didn't notice the small changes on me and broke the silence.

"What's the surprise you haven't stopped talking about?" I almost didn't recognize my raspy, uneven voice.

He seemed relieved at my casualness and his lips formed into a shy smile.

He motioned me to sit on the sofa while we rummaged through the pile of their stuff.

I sat down and complimented his performance.

I got another shy smile in return.

Was he that nervous?

Then I saw what he had been looking for.

He walked to the sofa, a guitar in his hand.

I didn't know he played.

He sat down and placed the guitar on his legs, then he looked at me.

"Anna," I looked back at him and now I was the shy one, "I want you to know how sorry I am for hurting you." His sad voice was breaking my heart.

I took his hands in mine and said, "I'm the one who's sorry. I never tried to look at things from your perspective and I know you've tried very hard and I'm sorry for not realizing that. If I had just waited for your explaination none of this would have happened." I looked down, upset and he broke his hands free from my touch, but not for long.