Jungkook was late.
Of course he was late. And he wondered when exactly he was going to stop being so surprised by these things. When he was going to stop getting his hopes up only to have them dashed.
Actually no, they hadn't just been dashed. They had been bulldozed over. And the person driving had been someone he never should have trusted in the first place.
It was only ten minutes. Then twenty. And he sat there wondering how long he was going to give him this time. An hour? Two? Maybe he would truly lose all sense and just sit there all night, hopelessly pining for someone who didn't deserve his time.
Twenty five. God he was so stupid. So incredibly stupid. Why wasn't he strong enough to just end this? Why wasn't he capable of saying no? How did Jungkook prey on all of his weaknesses so perfectly? Why did it have to be him? Out of everyone who had been present that night, why did it have to be him?
Thirty minutes. That's when he decided that he was being foolish. That he had gone through entirely too much trouble already and he wasn't going to give up another moment of his life waiting for someone who obviously wasn't worth it.
He wasn't worth it. Wasn't even worth a text to say the other was running late. Wasn't even worth a phone call saying he couldn't make it. History was constantly repeating it's self and he was just allowing it.
Crooked fingers went to the button of his shirt, practically attempting to rip it open, only to sigh in frustration as the action got him no where. He wanted out of this ridiculous outfit. Wanted to stop being reminded of how foolish he was. Wanted for all of this to be over.
Wanted his door bell to stop ringing so he could go back to grieving for the loss of something that never was in peace.
It hit him like a tidal wave. The realization that there was a distinct sound that was out of place among the silence of his tiny little place. A soft ringing that played out once, then twice, followed by a knock that he didn't recognized. Pushing himself to stand, he moved across the expanse, fingers gripping the lock and then the handle, twisting them both and slowly revealing what was on the other side.
He wanted to be angry. Wanted to yell. Wanted to cause such a scene that the other would never bother to actually mess with him again. But he couldn't. Not when he took in the sight that lay before him, eyes starting at the top and slowly trailing downwards.
Jungkook was like something out of a dream that he desperately wished he could wake up from. Pure white long sleeved button down undone to the second button, revealing far more skin that he wanted to see. Far more than he could take without his mouth watering, the desire to sink his teeth into his throat and leave his own mark there almost overwhelming. Dark jeans so tight you had to wonder how he even moved in them, with a belt that definitely wasn't actually needed. Hair perfectly parted down the center, falling on either side of those dark eyes and making that face look even more god like. It was unfair that he should look so good, like so much time and effort had been put into the whole thing when he had probably given it exactly twenty seconds thought.
There was a bag slung over his shoulder, and Seokjin wanted to make some snide remark about how he wasn't going to need it. Why would he let him stay when he couldn't even bother to show up on time? Why should he even let him in when he couldn't even make that much effort?
But there was a bouquet of flowers clutched so delicately in one hand. A distinct mixture of baby pinks, deep reds and pure whites. And in the other was a plastic bag, two sets of wooden chop sticks peaking out of the top.
"Sorry I'm late babe." At least he had the decency to be sorry. And it would be a lie if he said he didn't feel something inside of him begin to melt at the apology. Like the ice that had tried to attach it's self to his heart was slipping away piece by piece. "They didn't have the flowers I wanted so it took longer than expected."
"Which flowers did you want?" How did Jungkook even know so much about flowers anyway? It was one of the things that had always bothered him. One of the questions that had always been in the back of his mind.
"Chrysanthemum." He didn't want to know. He had the distinct feeling that he did not want to know. Yet he found himself asking anyway.
"And what do they mean?" Because they always had a meaning.
"Different things. I wanted to get you white and yellow. The first means truth, and the second means love that has been slighted." Those two things combined made no sense. Not when placed within the context of their entire situation.
"What about these?" They were beautiful. Full and thick with soft, curved petals, the colors shining brightly and perfectly complimenting one another.
"These are Camellia. The white mean you're adorable, and the pink mean that I've been longing for you." Those words shouldn't have made his breath catch so painfully in his throat. Shouldn't have made him grip the door a little bit tighter. Shouldn't have made him wonder the things he was.
"And the red?" He didn't want to know. He didn't.
"That you've created a flame in my heart." It was so ridiculous. So cheesy and ridiculous and honestly he should laugh. Just burst right into it. Instead his entire being seemed to betray him, seemed to realize just how incredibly weak he truly was. Because he could feel the way his ears were slowly begining to heat up. Knew that the pink was probably starting to show in his cheeks. Felt the way his heart skipped a beat and then back to life in a faster pattern.
