JEON JUNGKOOK jolts awake with his world by his side, disturbingly too calm with lashes' edge asleep and brows motionless with him in his bounds. Beneath sheets hid the mulberry speckles of yesternight's fornication on cream and raw canvases, the planes and structures he ventured warm and alive under his clasps, only wishing for the other's fractured places to soon become crevices and crevices become thin, white scars that will only be barely remembered.
Selfishly, he's bent on the raven beauty to remain in his slumber with the uncertainty of what was to come next. Last night would've been magical, never a dream but a memory to cherish, and yet he feared its effect, its aftermath. Words weren't said after all, no answer had been given, nor was a secret revealed— only the gratifying sounds that escaped their lips with every worthwhile gestures and pleasing stimulation in their senses with their perfect synchronization.
However the moment had to come when the older reacts in his hold. Skin against skin, the sheets pulled and the cushion was pressed down. A creak in the bed resonating through the quiet room, the kind that settled in Jungkook's bones and made his heart jump with the thought of facing the other.
Each creak sends him numb, it was as if the noise possessed a pair of hands wrapped tight around each lung, or ones that unlatches his grasp to the other and tears them apart. He refused of course, and with the older turning to face him with a mien of happiness and sorrows, an ambivalent expression with adoration swimming in his eyes, he buried his nose within the crook of his neck.
He refused to let go with his arms clutched around the ravenette's waist, he refused to look him in the eye and see how the other simply tells him to take his leave, he refused to have him abandoned when he still haven't done much effort to save their relationship.
Taehyung could see that, and so he let him.
He breathed in his neck and he felt his heartbeat drumming in his chest, clashing with his with every shallow inhalation. He accepted his fatigued sighs, his fingers' touch that are curled on his sides, his lips' consolation that rests on the marks on his clavicle, his desperation with limbs tied and intertwined to his, and his love— inherently existing in his tendons, in his eyes, and in the fibers of his skin— his love so overwhelming, so strong, that he wished to return them with the same acts of affection.
"Weren't you curious?" He spoke and Jungkook reacted at his voice, but still he laid his head between the older's neck and shoulder and closed his lids as he braced himself with the following question, "...Why I'm pushing you away?" He was, and that's why he moved his head to give a short nod. Doubts were there when he ought to unfold each knife-edge creases of mysteries the raven haired male kept and he had a number of assumptions assaulting his mind.
