almost, always
“You love him first. You love him hardest. He never loves you at all.”
pairing. jeon jungkook x oc
genre. mature, angst, hurt/no comfort
warnings. adult characters, suggestive, a very small mention of alcohol, unrequited love (like. . . real bad), toxic fwb kinda situationship, overthinking, jungkook is emotionally unavailable, he’s a jackass ngl, hints to insecurities/self image, toxic attachment, yearning, a lot of silent heartbreak, no fluff, she deserves better :,)
wc. 1.6k +
an. if u feel like u have read this before on my blog, no u haven’t
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He always came to you when the sky was gloomy.
The first night it happened, it was raining. The kind that sounded like the universe was pouring their cosmic heart out to the earth, the pitter patter zeroing out your thoughts. You were wrapped in a blanket on the couch, scrolling past the fourth rom-com you didn’t have the energy to watch, when your phone lit up.
[00:28]
jungkook 🤍 : u up?
Of course you were. You always were.
You told yourself it was just casual. He made that clear the first time he kissed you — soft and slow and like a promise he never meant to keep.
But still, you let him in. Let him take you. Let him moan your name, let him hold you after the highs of the pleasure subsided.
You let him do it all.
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You first met at a friend’s party, pop music thrumming through the floorboards and lights blinding your soul. Drunk bodies mingled with eachother, and the whole place reeked of booze. He was always the star of his circle; laughing at something someone said, wearing a denim jacket with nothing underneath, and you could hear girls chatting about him like he was a legend. You could understand why, though, yet another part of you wanted to avoid him.
Everything about him radiated trouble.
You weren’t the girl who caught his attention at the first glance. But he did, and it was almost at the end of the party.
“Aren’t you the most loud person here,” he’d said, when you were nursing your drink in the corner. When you’d turned to face him, you were nearly blinded by the smile on his face. Why would he even. . .? you were surprised you were approached at all.
“Seems like you know enough,” you simply replied.
He grinned like you’d just told him a secret. “I think you look lonely.”
That was all it took. One smile. One night.
One text that said come over, and you did.
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You tried to be smart.
You swore to your friends it was nothing. It felt more of a reassurance to yourself than your friends each time, though. “We’re just hooking up,” you’d shrug. “It’s not a big deal.” But you knew it was a lie the second you let him inside your apartment like you always do. The moment he pulled your sweatshirt over your head and whispered your name like it meant something.
He never stayed the night. But sometimes, if you asked nicely enough, he’d stay just a little longer, till you fell asleep in his arms. And that was enough for you, even if you’d wake up to a cold bed and the pang in your heart.
For a while.
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It was once in a blue moon when he was in your apartment and you two weren’t fucking. His body warmth was so close to you — your thighs brushing his knees as he sat beside you, slurping up some udon noodles which you were having for dinner. It was raining outside, and everything — him — had you feeling soft for some reason. It felt domestic, it felt warm. Your heart felt like it’s going to beat out of your ribs any moment and perhaps, would unfurl in front of him.
The conversation was light, easy going, and nearly non-existent till he told you that he wasn’t “built for relationships.” He said it like a joke - oh so casually. . .like he wasn’t breaking something when he did.
For the first time in some time, you felt like you didn’t know this man at all.
“I’m just not good at that stuff,” he’d said as he’d switched between tv channels mindlessly. “Too much pressure.”
You just nodded.
But in your chest, your heart thrashed around. I could be easy to love.
If you let me.
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The first time he disappeared for days, you stared at your phone like it owed you an answer. He hadn’t blocked you.
Just. . .gone. You didn’t spot him anywhere as you would expect his usual hunts, either.
When he finally came back, all he said was: “Sorry. Things got messy.”
You didn’t ask what things. You just opened the door and let him in.
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There were others, as obvious you were and as oblivious you pretended to be. You never had proof, but you didn’t need it. The late-night texts, the half-lies, the lipstick on his collar that wasn’t yours, the mixture of overwhelmingly sweet perfumes which he smelled of — it built a story you couldn’t stop reading.
Still, when he touched you, you forgot everything. That was the problem.
You remembered everything until he kissed you — and then you remembered nothing but him.
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You loved him first. You loved him hardest.
You remembered his favourite character being hello kitty, the name of his childhood dog, the way he rubbed the back of his neck when he was nervous. You noticed the scars on his cheek, the way he was terrible at goodbyes, the way his whole body twitched when he was just about to fall asleep.
He remembered your apartment code. That was about it.
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You finally said it on a Thursday night; a time when you felt like your chest would physically have a hole with all that pain whenever he was near. Not I love you, though. You weren’t that reckless.
But you said, “I think I like you.”
Jungkook looked up from your bedsheets, blinking slow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t say it back. Just leaned in, kissed you, and made you forget why it hurt so much.
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You stayed anyway.
Because sometimes, he held you like he didn’t want to let go. Because sometimes, when he looked at you, it felt like the air shifted. Your heart raced, like the idiot it was. Because sometimes, you were the bigger idiot than you blamed your poor heart to be.
You told yourself that meant something.
It didn’t.
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At a party, few months later, you saw it for what it was. He was laughing with a girl you didn’t know, arm draped lazily around her shoulders. She giggled like she’d already memorized the sound of his voice. You realised how much she resembled your expression when you two first started hooking up.
She was beautiful. Drop dead gorgeous. He was handsome. And somehow, he looked happy. Happier than you’ve ever seen him to be.
You stood in the kitchen, plastic cup trembling in your hand.
He looked up, saw you, and smiled. Not an apology came by, nothing passed between you two. Just a smile.
Later, when you found him outside, you asked, “Is she the reason you’ve been distant?”
He chuckled at you like you’d said the most ridiculous thing ever to be known to mankind. “Don’t tell me you’ve started catching feelings.”
You just stood and looked at him as he rode away, till your eyes could not spot him in the distance.
For the first time, you saw the truth. He had never even tried to like you.
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Still, that night, you let him in.
He showed up at your door like always. No explanation, no excuses. Just the quick text and quiet but rushed knock you had memorized.
You hesitated, but you opened the door.
He didn’t kiss you like he loved you. But he kissed you like he knew he’d always be let in. You let it happen. You didn’t ask him to stay. You didn’t ask him to mean it.
Later, when he was asleep beside you, you stared at the ceiling.
It was quiet.
You turned to look at him — this boy you had broken yourself for. This boy who had never once asked you to. The boy for whom you would unironically fall on your knees for. The boy whom you dreamt of perhaps spending a lifetime with.
You whispered, “I love you.”
He didn’t hear it. He never did.
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In the morning, he was gone.
You were still staring at his text screen, his last message being three days old.
That was the last time he texted you.
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You sat on the floor of your apartment, his absence booming louder than his presence ever did. It didn’t feel like heartbreak. It didnt feel like anything, very honestly. . .
You stared at his name in your phone. Reflected at the thread full of one-sided memories. Thought of all the times he’d stare at you, but never once look at you.
There was a very weird ache in the centre of your chest; very different from the ones you felt before. Like a barbed wire wrapped around your heart, squeezing the muscle with each moment as it splurted out the pain out of you.
It took you a second to delete his number. Not to forget him, but to remind yourself he was never really there.
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You still love him. You still ache for him. And as much as you resent yourself, you still hope that you’ll hear those three knocks on your door at 2 AM.
Even when you know the aching truth. He didn’t ruin you. He didn’t destroy you. He never broke your heart — he just never planned to keep it.
For Jeon Jungkook, you were nothing more than a hook up.
A few days pass. Things don’t really improve, but you don’t cry. You just stop looking at the door like it’s going to open itself.
One night, at 2:14 a.m., there’s a knock. Three gentle taps, spaced just far enough apart to make your chest tighten.
You don’t move. You stay on the floor, back against the wall, blanket wrapped around your shoulders more as a habit than a need.
The knocks continue. Once. Twice. Then they stop. You wait another hour in the quiet, but the knocks dont return.
That drags you down the realisation, once again, that you were never his.
You were just a place he came to feel wanted.
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an : did that hurt? :( here, a bandaid 🩹 for you ❤️🩹
it’s been really a long time since i’ve written anything. this is a repost of my old work which was posted sometime ago in around april, i revamped the whole fic. i hope you liked reading :)
