Running late wasn't something that he did. Another occurrence that didn't fall into the line of who he was. Once there had been a gentle force bringing him into the waking world. A soft voice and playful kisses that would make it so difficult to leave the bed for an entirely different reason.
Now there was just him, pushing it down to the wire, until he barely had time to shower and tug on the pieces of a clean uniform, grabbing his bag and his badge and his wallet and making it out the door precisely at the time he should have been pulling into work.
Yet in the empty space that lie between his door and the stairs, he heard another soft voice calling out to him, grabbing his attention and holding o to his so firmly he forgot everything else.
"Jungkook!" He barely realized what was happening before a bento box was being shoved into his hand, the warmth and weight of it a surprise he hadn't been expecting. "I was listening for your door."
"Did you want to see me that badly, little one?" He wanted the answer to be yes. He wanted it to be yes so much.
"Yes. And I needed an excuse to do this." Both hands came to rest upon his shoulders, and he stood shockingly still as the other rose up onto his tip toes and pressed those beautiful lips to his. "Be safe tonight, alpha. I want you to keep coming back to me."
...
'I want you to keep coming back to me.'
I want that too, little one. More than you'll ever know.
...
It was dangerous. How quickly he could get used to little things like this. Little surprises that made it possible for him to keep going. Gave him the strength he needed to make it through one more day. His entire day came to revolve around that one little thing. The fact that it provided him something to first look forward to, and then something to think about, something other than the madness he forced himself to see day after day, was a blessing in disguise. An angel's doing that he didn't realize would affect him quite as much as it did.
That there was a note currently carefully folded and tucked into the pocket of his pants was a little secret he would never tell. That his hand continued to slip inside so his fingers could run along the smooth surface and recite the words he now knew by heart was another, slightly embarrassing one.
But it was something only he would ever know. So he supposed that made it alright.
...
'Alpha -
I will always be right there when you need me. All you have to do is look inside your heart.
- Seokjin
...
"Have you told him yet?"
"I didn't realize there was a deadline."
"Seokjin."
"Namjoon."
"Look, I get it. Once you tell him it's probably gonna be over. And no one ever wants something good to end. But right now, what you're doing? Isn't fair to him. To either of you. All that's gonna happen is one of you is gonna get hurt."
"I could just not tell him. It probably doesn't matter as much as you think it does."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure it matters exactly as much as I think it does. He's playing for keeps, Jin. He has a right to know you're not actually available."
"But I will be."
"And believe me, you're worth waiting for. But that's not up to me to decide. It's up to him."
"What if he doesn't think I am?"
"Then it's best you know now, isn't it?"
...
Sleep was an elusive beast, something that he couldn't seem to accomplish no matter how intensely he tried. Maybe he shouldn't have weaned himself off the cycle of pills that had gotten him through those first six months. One set to ease him into the blissful oblivion of sleep, and another to help him shake off the hangover caused by the first. A vicious up and down roller coaster that he despised, but he was convinced it was the only reason he had survived at all. The bottle sat there now, on the edge of the bedside table, tempting him with the promise of ten solid hours of darkness.
But it felt like giving in, like condemning himself to a lifetime of nothing but an endless cycle. Sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep. Day in and day out until the day his heart finally couldn't take it anymore and gave out.
Instead he got up, stretched until his muscles ached. Then dug out the weights he hadn't used in months and worked through his routine. Pushed himself until he felt weak and flushed and somehow more alive than he had in weeks. He stood under the spray of the hot water for more than an hour, using it completely until it ran cold. But he felt clean and refreshed and as he dressed, he pulled out clothing that actually suited him, not just whatever old, ratty sweats that just happened to be clean.
Black jeans so tight they looked like they could barely contain the volume of his thighs. A crisp white tee layer beneath a loose, light gray sweater. A little over dressed considering his only current plan was to actually go pick up his take out order instead of having it delivered.
But fate had plans of it's own.
