under the mistletoe áŻâ jeon jungkook
a dreamersparacosm holiday special .á.á
SUMMARY. Every Christmas, since you were six years old, Jeon Jungkook gave you a kiss under the mistletoe. But when you were fifteen, you were replaced by a revolving door of girlfriends. Thus began your decade-long aversion to the holidayâthis year, however, youâve been tasked with hosting the annual Christmas soirĂ©e, and thereâs no telling what might be waiting for you under the mistletoe this time around.
pairing. jeon jungkook x reader
word count. 23.8k
warnings/genre. childhood best friends to lovers (aka idiots to lovers if you squint!!!), slight angst, fluff, reader is the grinch reincarnated, jungkook is oblivious, alcohol consumption, smut, oral and fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms, big dick jungkook bc what else, unprotected sex sorry sheâs on the pill, crying during sex (but in a cute way), itâs all just really cute i kinda hate them
note. welcome to the dreamersparacosm golden era⊠two one-shots over 15k words in one month. my fingers are tired. but itâs all fine n dandy bc itâs the HOLIDAYS!!! and what better way to celebrate than with a friends to lovers fic? believe it or not, this was originally going to be enemies with lovers, but i had a long talk with myself and realized that theres no way in hell i could ever do justice to a e2l in under 304949k words, but rest assured there is enough pining and angst to keep you well-fed đ„° oc is yearning final boss, jungkook is a slowburner whoâs also an idiot. my favorite kind of couple! i hope you all had a wonderful holiday! p.s: stay tuned for an extra special treat from these two later today :)
â¶ïž âąáá||á|á|||| last christmas by wham
banner creds | masterlist | epilogue blurb
The Grinch has always been your favorite Christmas movie.Â
Not because itâs particularly funny or thrilling, but because you can relate to that pessimistic green ball of fur. He despises the holiday just as much as you doâand thatâs generous, considering your animosity towards the day has reached unfeasible levels. You might be worse than the aforementioned ball of fur.Â
Thereâs really no one else to blame for your aversion to the holiday⊠besides Jeon Jungkook.Â
Jeon Jungkook has been your best friend since cradle. Your mother and his shared a room at the hospital, and since then, have kept a tight-knit relationship. Growing up, you and Jungkook shared more life experiences than siblings would. Conjoined birthdays, first day of school, puberty, heartbreak. It was hard not to imagine him in your life, when he had already invaded every part of it with his infectious smile and doe-like eyes.
Every Christmas, since you were six years old, Jeon Jungkook gave you a kiss under the mistletoe. It started innocently enough, with your parents cooing sweetly as he pressed his little lips to your warm cheek. Your face burnt like a volcano shortly after, your hand pressing up to touch the spot where his lips met your skin every few minutes.Â
When you were nine, he upped the ante. He grabbed your face with his grubby hands, and smushed his lips onto yours with a peck. It was precisely three seconds and two milliseconds long (you know because you held your breath). When he pulled away, he smiled that big bunny smile and ran off to play with your toys. Life continued on as such, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces of everything you thought you knew.Â
At the age of fifteen, he got his first girlfriend, Haeun. They met in Science class, paired up by accident, but the crush he had on her was with such certainty it took you by storm. That Christmas, he didnât give you a peck on the lips or the cheek. That year, your body felt empty. That fateful holiday, you watched as Jeon Jungkook gave Park Haeun a big, sloppy, romantic kiss under the mistletoe, one that rivaled any one he ever gave you.Â
And so, Christmas went from your favorite day of the year, to your nightmare.Â
Even when his and Haeunâs puppy love died out by high school graduation, she was swiftly replaced by Eunji. And then Chaeyoung. And then SanaâŠand the list went on, and on, and on.Â
So, yeah. Christmas. Not your best day. In fact, itâs pretty low on the totem pole, right next to the anniversary of your grandfatherâs death.Â
All this to sayâthis is why youâve been ignoring your best friendâs pleas for the past thirty minutes on hosting the annual Christmas soiree at your apartment. Your humble abode. Your sanctuary. Thereâs no way in hell youâll be stringing red and green lights from your ceiling, singing âho, ho, hoâ and passing around jell-o shots that were crafted by the devil himself. And you most definitely, certainly, will not hang up a mistletoe.Â
âBut why not?â Jungkook whines again, bouncing up and down on your couch cushion like a puppy. His bottom lip juts out slightly, which would be endearing if he was a teenager and not a 28-year old man.Â
âBecause I donât want to. I donât like Christmas.â You ignore him as best as you can, thumbing through your Instagram feed. Engagement posts, pregnancy announcements⊠god, the holidays are the worst. No, you wonât be blowing âbaby dustâ to your friends trying to get pregnant.Â
âSince when?â He gawks, pausing his movements to stare at your side profile intently.Â
âSince forever. You know this,â you say calmly. âThe Grinch is my favorite movie.â
He scoffs. âSo? Itâs mine too. That doesnât mean I hate Christmas.â
You donât have the heart to tell him that your abhorrence for the holiday stems from his inability to give you a kiss since the age of fifteen. Thirteen years later, you canât help but want one still.Â
You roll your eyes. âYou donât hate Christmas because you like giving gifts and receiving them.â
âThatâs not true,â he argues, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the coffee table. You finally turn to look at him, and heâs all red cheeks and wide eyes, and it makes you want to die. âYou have the nicest apartment out of all of us. We canât do Namjoonâs because they just had the baby, we canât do Jisooâs because Tae is allergic to dogs, and we canât do mine because Iâm renovating. Yours is the best option.â
All true points, but none that you want to confront head-on. âMight it also be that you donât want to do yours because then people will know you havenât moved on from Hana?âÂ
Jungkookâs face contorts, and for a split second, you feel guilty for sinking that low. You didnât mean to, but itâs true. His most recent ex-girlfriend, Hana, doesnât live in that apartment anymore, but it almost feels like she does with the amount of her stuff lingering around. They were together for a year, but mysteriously broke up after Christmas last year.Â
âNot cool,â he mumbles, playing with his sleeve.Â
âIâm sorry,â you sigh, âI just really donât wanna host, Koo.âÂ
âCâmon, do it for me,â he pouts, and it becomes even harder to say no to him. Youâre putty in his reliable hands.Â
âWhat will I get out of hosting?â You cross your arms over your chest. A hint of a smile creeps onto his face as he realizes youâre slowly beginning to cave. You always do when you start asking questions.Â
âNamjoon and Dahyun will cook. Taehyung will make the drinks. And I, your trusty best friend, will task myself with decorating the entire place,â he says proudly, chest puffed out like heâs the Superman of Christmas or something equally as idiotic.
âJeon Jungkook is going to decorate my apartment?â you question, dumbfounded. âThe one who put the star on upside down last year?âÂ
The memory plays as vivid as ever, a reel of images flashing through your mind of Jungkook proudly grinning at the miniscule tree he helped construct in your living room. The lights barely worked, the ornaments were hanging on by a thread, and the star was upside down, but he swore Michaelangelo wouldâve thought it was abstract art.
He rolls his eyes. âWhy canât you let anything go?âÂ
âAnd tangled the lights so bad Namjoon had to come over and cut them with scissors?â
Jungkook pouts the same way he used to when he was three. âButââ
âAnd ate the gingerbread house before we could even display it?â
Jungkookâs mouth opens to defy you, but decides itâs best not to go up against your vicious truths. âI was hungry and you had nothing but expired Chinese food in your fridge,â he grumbles. Itâs annoying how easily he can disarm you when heâs boyishly upset at the world.Â
In the grand scheme of things, hosting the Christmas soiree at your house is nothing. Nada. Zilch. A blip on your radar. Itâs not like heâs asking you to loan him a million won, or donate a kidney to his brother (albeit those are all things you would do for him). Heâs simply asking you to open your home to your closest friends to spread holiday cheer.Â
Somehow, some way, it feels like the hardest thing you have to do.
Maybe because in the grand scheme of things, youâre also hopelessly, relentlessly, disgustingly in love with Jeon Jungkook, and the word no is not one that leaves your lips often when heâs around.Â
âFine,â you relent. His entire face lights up, and your heart does the same dance it always does. âI have conditions, though.â
âAnything you want.â He scoots closer. You can smell his cologne, a pine and bergamot scent he wears for the holidays. âIâm at your service.â
âWeâre gonna do classy Christmas. Iâm talking silver decorations, maybe some gold. None of that tacky red and green shit from the dollar store.â
âUhu.â He nods. âAligned, captain.â
âAll the food will be catered. Iâm not making poor Dahyun cook. She has enough on her plate already.âÂ
He salutes you, which makes you snort.Â
âLastly, and most importantly, no mistletoe.â
His smile falters. Tips downward so that itâs almost unrecognizable. The light in his eyes dims, and now you almost feel guilty. âWhaâwhy not?â
See, if this were a Christmas romcom broadcasting on Hallmark, this is the pivotal moment where youâd confess everything. How youâve been in love with him since you were old enough to feel that feeling of warmth in your chest, how watching him kiss other girls made all your kisses seem foolish, how every Christmas without his lips on yours (even platonically) makes you want to move to a foreign country. Heâd probably gasp, pull you close, and kiss you right there on your sofa while snow fell cinematically outside your window. Credits would roll over a montage of you two ice skating and baking holiday cookies, all set to some Kelly Clarkson cover of âLast Christmas.â
But this isnât a Hallmark movie, and youâre not that brave.Â
So, instead, you say, âItâs tacky and overdone. I donât want it in my apartment.â
Jungkook seems genuinely concerned, as though you just informed him you have four days to live and your final wish is to jump out of a plane. âBut itâs tradition. Every year, thereâs a mistletoe.â
You huff, hugging the blanket wrapped over your legs tighter to you. âWell, I donât care. Thatâs my conditions. Take it or leave it.â
He watches quietly for a moment as you inspect the fibers of the blanket. He knows you well enough to not pry further, but he also knows that heâs the only one youâll talk to if he does decide to investigate. Thereâs no sound except the rattling of your heater and the sound of cars honking past your window. The television screen remains paused on a scene from The Grinch you could probably recite by heart.Â
âOkay,â he finally says. âNo mistletoe.â
âGood. Glad thatâs settled.â You stand up, desperate for distance. âNow get out. I have work to do.â
âFirst of all, itâs Sunday. Second of all, weâre watching the Grinch. Thatâs not work,â he points out.
âIâm sure I could find something to do. Iâve been meaning to dust my bookshelf,â you counter.Â
âOh, really? You walking your squirrel after that?â he teases, smirking.Â
âI am actually.â You cross your hands over your chest, the signal you make when itâs time for him to exit your apartment.Â
He stands, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a sliver of toned stomach, and you have to look away. Youâve been down this road too many times.
âIâll text you tomorrow about picking up supplies,â he yawns, heading for the door. âWeâll need to grab stuff from my place anyway. Iâve got extra string lights in storage.â
You trail behind him. âFine.âÂ
He pauses at the threshold, turning back to look at you. âThanks for doing this. I know itâs not your favorite thing.â
Oh, If only he knew it was his fault. âYeah, well. You owe me.â
âI always do,â he grins, and then heâs bounding down your staircase, leaving you alone with the Grinch and the hollowed feeling in your chest that never really goes away.
When youâre certain heâs finally gone, you lock the door and sink back into the couch, pressing play on the remote. On screen, the Grinch is plotting to ruin Christmas, and you canât help but think to yourself, same, buddy. Same.
Heâs probably got the right idea. If you steal all the decorations before he can hang them, accidentally forget to buy eggnog, or come down with the Black Plague on the day of the party, you could ruin the whole thing.Â
But you wonât. Despite everything, you canât actually hurt him. Youâd host a thousand Christmas parties, hang a million strands of lights, bake cookies until your hands cramped, if it meant making Jeon Jungkook happy. Thatâs the real bittersweet tragedy of your situation. Not that he doesnât love you back, but that you love him enough to pretend you donât.
Jungkook likes to call his apartment his âmodest mancave.â
Heâs called his bedroom that since you two were old enough to be in school. However, one spring day during Sophomore year, youâd barged in unannounced and found him scrambling to hide a bottle of lotion and suspiciously large pile of tissues. He came up with some daft excuse about allergies, but you knew what the option meant. He knew that you knew. It became just another shared moment in the encyclopedia of your friendship, because thatâs what you two always did. You witnessed each otherâs embarrassing moments and life continued on.
Which is why his apartmentâs state right now doesn't deter you. It's a little messy (okay, a lot messy) with random moving boxes heâs never unpacked stacked haphazardly in corners and furniture pushed against walls at odd angles. Thereâs a pile of paint swatches on the coffee table, each one a slightly different shade of beige that all look identical to your untrained eye.Â
He had texted you earlier in the day to get started on Operation: Un-Grinchify Christmas, as he referred to it. You werenât really up for it, but he sent you three crying emojiâs and then you were halfway out the door with mismatched socks on.Â
Jungkook swears he has a box of light-up reindeer somewhere when you first arrive to his home. Something about them looking like theyâre having a seizure when theyâre plugged in. He's so entranced in his search heâs completely forgotten about your own holiday dilemma.Â
âKoo?â you yell down his hallway. You venture down, stepping over a stack of books and what appears to be a broken lamp, following the sound of muffled cursing.
You find him in his bedroom, halfway inside the closet, ass up in the air. Boxes and random junk are scattered around himâold magazines, a deflated basketball, what looks like his matching Halloween costume with Hana from two years ago.
âI know itâs here somewhere,â he mutters, voice echoing from deep within the closet. Leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, utterly amused by his same old childish ways.Â
âNeed help, or should I just enjoy the view?âÂ
âShut up,â he says, but you can hear the smile in his tone. âIâm finding an ancient artifact.â
âHow ancient is it? We talking middle school? Elementary?â
âI donât know, all I know isâaha!â He backs out, brown hair flopping around, and cracks his head on the closet rod with a thunk. âFucking fuckâowââ
You canât stop the giggle that falls from your lips, and it turns into full-blown laughter when you catch wind of his appearance. Heâs rubbing his head, hair sticking up in five different directions.Â
But then you see whatâs in his hands, and all laughter ceases with a wheeze. Itâs the most hideous collection of green and red tinsel garland youâve ever witnessed. It looks like itâs gonna shed all over your home, and thereâs no way youâll let your cat named Ginger anywhere near that.Â
âTa-da!â He holds it up proudly, grinning brightly.Â
âAre you insane?â
âWhat?â he gawks, inspecting it for himself. âThis is the epitome of Christmas.â
âJungkook, I said classy Christmas. Elegant. That looks like a drunk elf threw up.â You gesture at theâŠthing, deeply perturbed at the fact he would even show it to you.Â
He shakes the garland at you like it might change your mind. âBut Christmas needs a little green and red! Thatâs literally the symbolic colors of the holiday.â
âI donât care if it was sent down by Santa himself. Itâs not going in my home,â you argue.Â
âBut why?â he pouts, and you can already tell which direction this conversation is going. But youâre standing your ground this time, because if you donât youâll fold like papier mache.Â
âIt looks like it has dust mites from 2014,â you grimace.Â
He moves closer, forcing you to look at the grimy strings. âCâmon, just one strand? For your old pal?â
âNo.â
âPlease?âÂ
âI will leave, Jungkook.â
He sighs, defeated, and holds the garland out to you anyway. âFine. But you have to be the one to throw it away. I canât bear to part ways with her.â
Rolling your eyes, you take it from him, and your fingers brush his. Softly, gently, barely even there to the naked eye. You doubt he even notices it. But heat crawls up your spine and nestles a home in your chest.Â
You snap out of it, tossing the garland in the trash in his bedroom. âWhy do you even have that anyway?âÂ
âIt was Hanaâs.âÂ
You freeze in your tracks, hand hovering over the trash bin. When you look back at him, his ears are pink, eyes trained on some shadow on the wall behind you. âOh.â
âYeah.â He clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck. One of his nervous tics from childhood. âIâve been meaning to get rid of her stuff. What you said yesterday... it kind of stuck with me.â
Guilt settles in your bones. âKoo, I didnât meanââ
âNo, youâre right.â He finally catches your gaze. âIâve been holding onto things I shouldnât. Not even because I miss her, really. Itâs justâI donât know. Easier to keep it than deal with it, yâknow?
You do know. You know all too well. Youâve been keeping your feelings in a box for years for the exact same reason.Â
âBut Iâm trying now,â he continues. âTo move on. Actually move on, not just say I am. It still feels weird, throwing away a part of my life. Even if I know itâs the right thing to do.â
Throughout your life, you have continuously kept a square of people in your life that you care about. It mostly consists of your parents, Jungkook, his parents, and your friends. You donât ever really rearrange it to make space for others, because you already have the ones that matter. You hope that when Jungkook rearranges his square, maybe removes Hana, you take up a bigger chunk of it.Â
âIâm proud of you,â you smile. Even if the selfish part of you has been waiting for this moment since last Christmas.
He returns your smile with a feeble one of his own. âThanks.â
For a moment, you two stand there, soaking in the silence. But just like that, it always falls back into place the way itâs meant to be. âI need your silverware for my kitchen, by the way. Iâm not using mine for this party.â
âWhat? Why not?â He furrows his brows.Â
âBecause I donât want Taehyung's drunk ass dropping my good forks down the garbage disposal like last New Years.â
Jungkook rolls his eyes. âHe apologized and paid for new ones.â
âBut it wasnât the same exclusive ones I had,â you sing-song, leading him back down the hallway to his kitchen. âShow me what youâve got, mister.â
For the next hour, you two bicker over everything. He wants to bring the fork set with wooden handles, but you object with the fact that they look like they belong in a cabin in the forest.Â
Then itâs the string lights. Heâs insistent on multicolored ones, big bulbs of green, yellow, and red that would look outdated against the rest of your apartment. You opt for the warm white ones, and he sticks his tongue out at you and says youâre boring.Â
Heâs a child. You make sure to tell him that about five separate times. On the sixth time, however, he retorts, âYou take that back.â
âMake me.â
He waves a serving spoon at you. âIâm not playing with you, young lady.â
âOh, please,â you wave him off. âYouâre the one who begged me to host.â
Itâs comfortable, the way it always is. The bickering, the back-and-forth, the way you can read each otherâs expressions before the words even come out.
At some point, while youâre debating whether his punch bowl is too tacky (it is), he wipes his hands on a dish towel and tosses it over his shoulder. âYou should check the closet in case you see anything else you wanna take.â
âThe old shit in there?âÂ
He smacks you with the towel. You yelp, leaping back a few inches. âThereâs goodies in there too, Iâll have you know.â
âSure, Koo. Goodies, otherwise known as old shit.â But youâre already laughing, walking back into his room and diving into the closet.
You push back the ugly garlandâs former neighbors. Thereâs a box of tangled charging cables, some old textbooks from college, a pair of busted headphones. Itâs very standard Jungkook chaos. His mind is also disorganized, so itâs no wonder he has the room to match.Â
You rummage around a bit more, sighing as you wave the dust from your face.Â
On the top shelf, shoved way back in the top corner, you come across a box.Â
Small, cardboard, duct-taped on the bottom half into oblivion. Thereâs a piece of paper taped to the front, and even in the dim closet light, you can make out your name written in his messy handwriting. [Y/N].
For a moment, you blink at the box, heart pounding, and then realize you have no idea what to do.Â
If you open it, maybe heâll know. Then youâll look like a stalker. On the other hand, heâs been your best friend since birth, so finding out you have stalker tendencies might not be a dealbreaker.Â
You stretch up on your toes, tugging the box toward you just enough to peek inside. A flash of worn brown fur catches your eyes, and then you see the teddy bear ear flopping out. Your teddy bear. You lost it in middle school, and you assumed it was gone forever, donated or thrown away during one of your momâs delirious cleaning sprees.Â
He kept it.Â
âFind anything good?â Jungkookâs voice migrates from the kitchen. You jolt, almost dropping the box. Your hands shake as you shove it back into place, blood whooshing through your eardrums.Â
âNah,â you call back. Your voice sounds a bit shaky, but you hide it behind several coughs. âI was right. Old shit.â
You back out of the closet, closing the door carefully. What else is in there?
Later that night, when sleep proves itself to be unfeasible, and youâre tossing and turning underneath your comforter, you ponder what else might be in the box, and if he keeps it for the same reason youâve kept every birthday card heâs ever written you. Tucked away in your own closet, in your own box, with his name on it.Â
Apparently, hosting a Christmas soiree is not as straightforward as youâd hoped it would be.
First, thereâs Jisoo, who texts a novel about how sheâs trying this new clean eating thing and can there please be gluten free and dairy free options? You respond with a thumbs up, and then run to text Jennie to see if sheâs actually serious. She sends back a skull emoji, which 1) youâre not sure what that implies and 2) you guess itâs confirmation that yes, sheâs serious, but also yes, sheâll quit and eat regular food after two glasses of wine.Â
Then Taehyung calls to inform you heâs trying to maintain a vegetarian lifestyle, and not the kind that occasionally eats fish, but the kind that will know if you used chicken stock in any recipe. You add âvegetable stockâ to your growing shopping list, since catering cost more than your rent, and resist the urge to bang your head against the counter.
Namjoon sends his regrets that he and Dahyun canât stay long because baby Haewon is âin turmoil right now,â which translates to âweâll be there for an hour max.â Youâre not even annoyed about that oneâyouâve seen the bags under Namjoonâs eyes, and honestly, youâre impressed heâs coming at all.
The point is, youâve given up. By Wednesday, your Notes app looks like a grocery list written by someone having a mental breakdown, and youâre seriously reconsidering this whole thing.
To his credit, Jungkook tries to help as much as possible. Inevitably, this means dragging him to your apartment on weekends, even though you do that often enough already. Saturday morning, he shows up with boxes, four different sets of more lights, some ornaments, all of them white, all of them looking functionally identical.
âOkay,â he says, holding up the first strand. âWhich one screams âthis is a classy Christmasâ?â
You squint at it from the couch, hugging your mug of hot chocolate. âHmm. I donât know. That one kinda screams dollar store.â
âCut.â He drops it and holds up the second. âThis one?â
âHmm, uglier than the first.â
âHow can someone be so picky?â He holds up the third, and you can see him struggle to hold a straight face. âFine. This one. Final answer.â
Tilting your head, you study it. It has a warm hue, the bulbs delicate and tiny. Itâs kind of pretty, sans the scratches on some of the bulbs. âI think we have ourselves a winner.âÂ
âSold.â He drops the others in the pile heâs been gathering. The ones on the right are the takers, the ones on the left are getting deposited in your dumpster at 5PM sharp. âSee? This is why we make a good team.â
You have to fight not to let your mind wander off when he says things like that. âBarely. When we were five, we were on the same team for kickball and you nearly broke my ankle.â
He frowns, âOkay, but then I patched you up good as new with a Hello Kitty bandaid. That shit wasnât easy to find.â
It was over two decades ago, but still remains a permanent fixture in your brain. You were sprawled on the playground, crying so hard youâd given yourself hiccups, convinced your ankle was shattered and your legs would be cut off. Jungkook had run to get the teacher, but came back before she did, sliding on his knees beside you like some action hero. Heâd pulled a crumpled Hello Kitty bandaid from his pocket (you have no idea why he had it, heâd never explained) and stuck it on your ankle with the utmost seriousness, tongue poking out in concentration. âAll better,â he had promised. Miraculously, youâd stopped crying. It wasnât because the bandaid helped, but because Jungkook looked so proud of himself, you didnât have the heart to tell him your ankle still hurt.Â
âYouâre still a pain in my ass.â
âYeah, yeah, but whoâs doing this home renovation for free? Me.â
You canât argue with that.Â
He continues pulling things from the boxes. More tinsel, garlands, ornaments in muted golds and silvers. Each item gets held up for your approval, and you find yourself less focused on the decorations and more on him. His cheeks flush crimson when you compliment one of his choices. A bright smile overtakes his features when you agree to something halfheartedly just because it makes the smile grow tenfold.Â
Youâd fallen for him a long time ago, but even now you realize how far down youâve already gone.Â
âOh shit,â he exhales, freezing midway through a box. âNo way.â
âWhat?â You shift excitedly on the couch, trying to peer into the box.
He pulls out a photo album, the edges frayed and the cover dusty. You recognize it as soon as you see it. It was one of the many your moms had compiled over the years, chronicling every significant (and insignificant) moment of your joint childhood.â
âI forgot I even had this,â he says incredulously, flipping it open. He moves to the couch, dropping down beside you, and his knee brushes yours.
Your body knows to jerk back instinctively, heart jumping into your throat. He doesn't notice, too absorbed in the photos, but your knee burns where it touched him.
âGod, look at us,â he laughs, pointing to a picture of you both at around 7 years old, covered head to toe in mud. âYour mom was pissed at us.â
âYeah, she was pissed because you pushed me into the puddle,â you remind him.
âAnd then I got you out of it.âÂ
âYou said âwatch thisâ and then did it. I donât think you really won brownie points with Mom,â you laugh at the memory.Â
He flips through the book, oohing and aahing everytime you stumble across a cute picture. Theyâre reminiscent of a time when everything was easy, when you didnât have to worry about adult things like taxes and bills and groceries. It was just you and Jungkook, conquering the world one playdate at a time.Â
Jungkook flips to the next page. Thereâs a photo taped to the page, with your momâs handwriting underneath. âChristmas, 9 years old, Busan.â
You're both standing under a mistletoe that looks comically large above your small heads. His lips are pressed to yours in that brief, earth-shattering peck you still think about once in a while (or more precisely, when itâs late at night and youâre missing his presence).
You take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight, like someoneâs tugging on it by the ends of a string.Â
Jungkook stares at the photo for what feels like forever, an unreadable expression crossing his face. âI remember this,â he quietly says.Â
You canât speak. Your tongue feels like deadweight.Â
âYou held your breath and everything,â he reminisces, and you suddenly feel breathless. Like youâre drowning and gasping for air, but even when you hit the surface, itâs not enough.Â
He flips the page again, and there's another one. Age 10. Same mistletoe, different living room. It was the year your parents moved homes, but remained down the street from Jungkookâs. Youâre wearing a red dress your mom made you wear, and heâs in a sweater that's too big. His hand is on your cheek, and you can see, even in the photo, how red your face was.
âWe did this every year,â he notes, and thereâs a nostalgic edge to his voice that wasnât there before.Â
âYeah.â The word comes out hoarse. You clear your throat. And then the words are out before you can stop them, tinged with wistfulness, "Until we didnât.â
Jungkook doesnât acknowledge that. Just flips again. Through age 11, age 12, age 13, age 14. Each photo is a documentation of a tradition that meant everything to you.Â
Then he turns the page, and the mistletoe is gone. Age 15. Youâre standing stiffly next to Haeun, whoâs tucked under his arm, beaming at the camera. You look like you want to disappear.
âHm,â he hums, frowning. âI guess we stopped here.â
Itâs so juvenile, so high school itâs almost embarrassing. He hadnât cared for the absence of your kiss. For him, it was a silly thing your families let you partake in. âYou had Haeun. The mistletoe thing was for kids anywayâ
âWas it though?â He studies the photo, and you wish he would stop, wish he would close the album and move on to anything else. The question isnât meant to be flirtatious but a selfish part of you wishes it was. âI always thought it was fun.â
âOur parents got so excited over it.â He flips back to the earlier photos, running his finger over the vintage picture. âWeâd be right under the mistletoe and sheâd count down with her camera ready like it was the New Years countdown.â
âShe was probably hoping to plaster us on some kidsâ Christmas ad.â
âIt was cute.â He lands on the photo from when you were sixâthe very first one. His tiny self kissing your cheek, your hand frozen mid-reach to touch the spot. âLook how tiny we were. Little babies.â
He says it so innocently that something inside you stumbles.Â
You cover your face with your hands, as if he could see the adoration written all over your face. But even if he could, he probably wouldnât say anything âIâm mortified. I didnât realize my mom took so many pictures of us kissing as kids.âÂ
He scrunches his brows, looking over at you. âWas it really that bad?âÂ
Yes. No. It was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you. âKinda. I mean, I survived, didnât I?â
âBarely, from the looks of it.â He taps the photo, where baby you looks seconds away from a panic attack. âItâs not like I had cooties.â
You smile. âOh, yes you did. If anyone had cooties, it was definitely you. You ran that playground like it was your personal dating pool.â
âRude.â He bumps your shoulder, turning the page slowly, lingering on each mistletoe photo. âI canât believe we did this for almost a decade.â
âUsed me for practice?â It doesnât feel like thereâs enough air in your apartment, even with the window cracked open. Itâs taking tremendous effort to breathe.
âWorked well for us, I think.â
âWhyâd you stop?âÂ
Oh god, youâve really done it now. Â
Surprisingly enough, the embarrassment comes belatedly, but it settles in your stomach all the stronger.Â
Surprise flashes across his face. âWhat?â
âAfter Haeun. I guess⊠I donât know. You neverââ You wish you could say the words, wish you could be brave, wish you could be six years old again with Jeon Jungkookâs lips on your cheek. âWhyâd it just⊠end?â
Heâs quiet. The sound of your space heater rattling and Ginger purring fills the room, but not enough to quell the anxiety thatâs rumbling in your stomach. Heâs going to let you down gently, you hope. Quick and painless, like a bullet to the head.
âI donât know. I guess I thought you didnât want to anymore. We were older. I thought it would feel weird to you.â
Weird.Â
And this whole time, for you, his kiss was nothing short of ethereal.Â
âPlus,â he continues, oblivious to the way your heart is splintering, âI figured itâd be uncomfortable doing it once I had girlfriends. Like it would be... I don't know. Inappropriate or something.â
He was being considerate. Somehow, and you know youâre being irrational, that makes it worse.
âIt makes sense.â You force a smile. âRelax, Koo. Iâm not writing sonnets about your lips every night.â
He snorts. âOh, please, you wish you could have lips as luscious as mine.â
You push his shoulder, and then itâs just you and Jungkook again. Nothing more, nothing less.Â
He flips through a few more pages, ogling at pictures even youâd never seen before. He points to one where you're both wearing matching reindeer antlers. âNow, this should be on a Christmas card.â
âIâm shocked my mom didnât have cards made. I wouldâve burned themâ
âYouâre such a Grinch.â He closes the album but keeps it in his lap, fingers tracing the worn cover. Jungkook is quiet for another moment, and you catch the look on his face, the one he makes when heâs struggling to choose his words correctly. Decisively, he says, âDid you really hate it? The mistletoe thing?â
Your heart hammers. This is it, you think. This is where you could tell him. Where you could say actually, I loved it, I lived for it, I died a little every year you stopped.
But heâs looking at you with curiosity, as if heâs pondering what your favorite color is or what you had for breakfast. As if the answer doesnât matter beyond satisfying his momentary interest.
You lie. âIt was fine. Just a stupid kid thing.â
He sets the album aside, wiping his dusty palms on the front of his pants. âYeah. Totally.âÂ
Jungkook moves back to the decoration boxes, and you remain frozen on the couch. You grip your safety blanket as tight as you can, until you think you feel your blood flow cutting off. You just want to feel numb.Â
âYou know what is crazy, though?â He pulls out a string of garland, examining it for tangled bits. âYou used to be obsessed with Christmas.â
Your stomach does a somersault. âI was not.â
âYeah, you kinda were.â His eyes linger on the garland, although youâre certain itâs in perfect condition. âYou made us watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman on repeat. You also made us build snowmen every single time it snowed, even when it was like, two inches.â
âEveryone loves those things when youâre a kid.â
âYeah, I guess.â he sighs. âBut I donât know. You had a countdown, youâd call me everyday in December to tell me how many days were left. That was your favorite holiday, and now Iâm the only one who likes it.âÂ
You shrug, hoping to come across as nonchalant, but you know he can read your face like an open book. âPeople change.â
âWhen did you even stop liking it?â He picks up a few string lights, untangling them as heâs doing to you currently.Â
Your throat tightens. âHigh school, maybe?â
âCause of stress or something? School shit?âÂ
âSure.â
âItâs a yes or no question.â
âThatâs the answer youâre getting.â You really, really wish there was a sinkhole that could swallow you entirely right now.Â
He studies you, and you can see him thinking, piecing together something you donât want him to figure out. But despite it all, he just shrugs, letting it go. âIt's depressing. You used to light up the whole room when Christmas came around. Now you look like someone killed Ginger."
She purrs in the corner.Â
âSorry, Ging.â He throws the lights to the yes pile. Itâs surprisingly larger than the no pile. âI just want you to be happy this Christmas. Thatâs all I care about.â
You half-smile at him, nodding. You donât know how to tell him that you could be happy, could be ecstatic, if just this Christmas, you felt his lips on yours again.
Turns out, itâs a lot easier to throw yourself into party planning when youâre trying to distract yourself from something.
This whole debacle makes you realize youâve never actually hosted a Christmas party. You actively avoid Christmas. What made you think you could pull this off? (Granted itâs all Jungkookâs fault, but thatâs neither here nor there.)
The group chat you made for the attendees is already chaosâJisoo asking about the playlist, Taehyung confirming heâs still vegetarian (yes, still, it's been four days), Dahyun asking if she can breastfeed in your bedroom. Your anxiety spikes with every notification.
So itâs no surprise that the day before the party, you wake up in a cold sweat at 6AM with the horrifying realization that you have no idea what youâre doing. By the time Jungkook arrives at noon, youâve managed to rearrange your furniture three times and stress-clean your bathroom until itâs sterile enough to perform surgery in.Â
âWow,â He steps inside, taking in the boxes of decorations youâve laid out for him to tackle. âDid you even sleep?âÂ
âI would, but Jisoo and Jennie are blowing up my phone like this is the fucking MET Gala or something.â You huff, not pausing your incessant scrubbing of your kitchen sink.Â
âThey know itâs just the annual Christmas party⊠right?â
You puff another exasperated breath. âYes. But none of that matters to them because theyâve sent me 30 different outfit options like Iâm going to be judging them personally or something.â
He bites back a smile. âItâs time to call in the big guns. Where can I get my hands dirty, sergeant?â
You really are grateful heâs here. And exists. And all those other sentimental things that your heart sings about constantly.Â
You two go full decorator mode, moving through your apartment like a well-oiled machine. He hangs the garland while you untangle lights, arrange the ornaments while he figures out how to make your bookshelf look âfestive but not icky.â His words, not yours.
Itâs disgusting how much Christmas is invading your space. Your minimal, clean apartment now looks like Santa threw up in it. There are silver bells on your kitchen counter, a wreath on your door that's so aggressively pine-scented you can taste it. There are candles labeled things like âWinter Wonderlandâ and âCinnamon Crazeâ that you know will take weeks to burn through after this is all said and done.
But you keep going, because if you stop, youâll think. If you think, youâll remember the photo album, the mistletoe pictures, the dumb kid thing.
âAlright, I need my harshest critic.â Jungkook motions to you to survey the living room.Â
Standing beside him, you inspect the damage. Warm white lights are strung along your windows and wrapped around your bookshelf. A garland drapes elegantly across your mantle (you don't have a fireplace, but the decorative mantle suddenly feels worth it). There are small golden ornaments scattered tastefully on your side tables, and the wreath on the door is admittedly very pretty, even if it does smell like a forest.Â
âNot too shabby, Jeon.â
He looks offended. âYeah, no shit. I deserve better than that.â
âSubpar at best.â
âIâm gonna punt Ginger like a football.â
âI think the lights are nice,â you finally concede, because they are. They make your apartment look warm, cozy even.
âTold you I was good at this." He's grinning like a Cheshire cat, that proud, bunny-toothed smile that makes your chest hurt. âAdmit it. I crushed this.â
You roll your eyes. âYou did alright.â
He gapes, blinking frantically. âOkay? Okay? I turned your Grinch lair into a winter wonderland!â
âMy abode is not a lair.â
âIt was before I arrived.â He sticks his tongue out, and you shove his shoulder.Â
âI think we're done,â you say, more to yourself than to him. âThis is... yeah. This is enough.â
âWell⊠almost.â Jungkook looks like a kid whoâs just been told he canât have dessert before dinner but is already plotting how to sneak a cookie anyway.
Your stomach sinks. âWhat do you mean almost?â you ask, even though you think you already know.Â
âI have a surprise.âÂ
You protest, âJungkookââ
âWait right here.â He holds up a hand, jogs back toward the entryway where heâd dropped his bag earlier. You stiffen like youâre made of ice, the only thing moving in your body being your heartbeat that thumps along the walls of your ribcage.Â
Please donât be what you think it is. Please donât be what you think it is.Â
He turns around, and your heart sinks lower than where your stomach sat.
In his hand, dangling from a red ribbon, is a mistletoe.
Itâs small, crinkled, fake plastic leaves bent at weird angles like it was shoved in the back of his closet for years. It probably has been.Â
âNo,â you object immediately.Â
âCome onââ
âNo. This is a hard no, Jungkook.â And you know youâre being harsh, but itâs the only way youâll get him to stop whatever efforts heâs decided are worth his time.Â
âYou said no mistletoe in the apartment,â he argues, walking toward you with that stupid sprig held up. âTechnically, this is going above the doorway, which is a threshold. Not in the apartment.â
âThatâs the worst logic Iâve ever heard.â
âBut itâs tradition!â You can see the hope in his eyes, the genuine excitement, and it makes you want to rip your hair out. âEvery Christmas party needs a mistletoe.â
âNot this one.â
âEspecially yours. Ours.â His voice softens, and that's worse somehow. âFor old timesâ sake?â
You hate the tone in his voice, the guilt-tripping, the pity.Â
âI donât want it,â you repeat. âI told you this already.â
His smile falters as he realizes youâre truly serious. âWhy not?
âBecause itâs stupid and outdated and I donât want people making a big deal about it.â
âWhy would any of our friends make a big dealââ
âJungkook,â you plead, crossing your arms, putting a physical barrier between you and that mistletoe. âI said no.â
He just stares at you, confusion and hurt flickering across his face. âI donât get it. Itâs literally just a mistletoe. Itâs supposed to be fun.â
Fun, weird⊠a list of words that describe the opposite of what mistletoe makes you feel.
âItâs not fun for me.â You burn holes into your floor, refusing to look at his puppy eyes that would make you feel more guilty than you already do.Â
âWhy not?â
Because everytime I look at it, I think about you kissing me when we were kids. Because it reminds me of when Christmas was my favorite day of the year. Because seeing it in my apartment, above my doorway, at my party, will make me think about all the Christmases you kissed other girls and not me.
âBecause I donât like it,â you decide upon, âCanât you just respect that?â
An awkward silence spreads amongst you two, punctured only by Ginger purring in the corner. Jungkook's hand drops to his side, mistletoe dangling limply from his fingers.
âFine,â he murmurs. âNo mistletoe.â
âThank you,â you sigh in relief.Â
He walks back to his bag and shoves it inside, and you should feel relieved. You should feel like youâve won. But instead, you just feel like youâve punched him square in the face.
âI should probably go,â he says, not meeting your eyes. âLet you rest before the big day tomorrow.â
âOh, uh, yeah.â You shift on your feet awkwardly.Â
He gathers his things timidly, and you know heâs giving you time to take it back, to say youâre sorry, to explain, to undo the angst youâve created.Â
At the door, he pauses before reaching for the doorknob. Jungkook turns, clutching his bag strap so tightly his knuckles resemble those of a ghost. âI really don't understand what's going on with you.â
âNothingâs going on,â you mutter.Â
âThatâs utter bullshit,â he snaps, and you raise your eyes to meet his. The usual warm chocolate shade of his orbs now shifts to onyx. âYouâve been weird about this whole Christmas party thing since day one.â
âI said, thereâs nothing going on. I donât want to talk about it,â you repeat, hoping itâll stick.
âBut I do!â His voice rises, and you flinch. Jungkook doesnât yell. Not once in your lifelong friendship has he ever raised his voice or laid a finger on anyone. You were never involved in any of his relationship arguments, but you imagine he never argued with them like this. You suddenly feel dizzy, like the world is spinning too quickly for you to catch your breath. âIâve known you forever. Youâre my best fucking friend, and something is clearly wrong, so just tell me.â
Frustration coils in your stomach. Why canât he ever leave anything alone? âStop it. Please, just stop. Why canât you just respect my boundaries? I said no mistletoe. I said I donât want to talk about it. Why isnât that enough for you?â
âThis obviously is not just about the fucking mistletoe, [Y/N].â He tugs at his hair, rage rolling off him in waves. âSince the moment I brought up you hosting, you acted like I was attacking you.â
âBecause you are!â None of it makes sense, not one bit, but you canât tell between anger and panic and all you can see is red. âMaybe because you just bulldoze through my life, rearranging things, making decisions, assuming you know what's bestââ
âWeâre best friends. We help each other with everything,â he grits through clenched teeth.
âIâm not Hana, Jungkook. I wonât just let you decorate my life and pretend everything's perfect.â
For a moment, Jungkook seems taken aback by your outburst, recoils a step, landing with his spine against the front door. His face goes pale. âWow. Thatâs fucking low.â
âIs it?â You're on a roll now, unable to stop even though you can see youâre hurting him. Maybe you just want him to hurt the way you do. âBecause when you kept all of Hanaâs things, when your apartment was basically a shrine to her, I never said a fucking thing about it. I just let you deal with it however you needed to. So why canât you give me the same courtesy? Why canât you just let this go?â
âHana and I broke up!â His voice cracks, eyes glassy, âThatâs so different and you know it.â
âHow is it different? Enlighten me.â
âShe was my girlfriend. And it hurt, okay? It hurt to let her go. But I did it. I'm doing it because itâs over and I donât miss her that way anymore. And youâre the one who pushed me to. So donâtâ" He pauses, jaw clenched, and you can see heâs trying to swallow his tears. âDonât throw that in my face like Iâm some pathetic asshole who can't move on.â
Fuck. âKooââ
âNo.â He holds up a hand. Itâs shaking. âYou want boundaries? Fine. Hereâs one: donât call me until you figure out what the fuck is actually going on with you. Because this isnât you. The you I know doesnât make me feel like shit for trying to care about you.â
You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. âJungkook, Iâm so sorryââ
âSave it.â His voice is quieter, and you miss the yelling, because at least then he still cared about you. Heâs given up. âIâll still come to the party tomorrow because I told everyone I would. But after that⊠maybe we should take a break from each other or something.â
âOh.â
Throughout the duration of your friendship, you and Jungkook have only ever fought once. It was known as The Great Argument of 11th Grade, and it was so juvenile that even your parents got involved. Now, you donât really remember the specifics of what went down or who started it, but you do remember that it only lasted a day, because Jungkook said, âyou know I canât stay away from you for too long.â
The concept of space from him is one youâve never considered.Â
He leaves before you can say anything more, the door clicking shut with finality, echoing through your decorated apartment.
You stand there, frozen, staring at the space where he was. The mistletoe is still in his bag. He took it with him.
The rest of your unfortunate day is spent spiraling about your argument with Jungkook. You sit on the couch, crying to some stupid Hallmark movie where the girl gets the guy and everything works out perfectly. Then you cry in the shower, the water mixing with your tears until you canât tell which is which. You go so far as to cry in your car on the way to the grocery store, because you two were supposed to go together to prepare for this stupid party.
Even the supermarket is taunting you. Thereâs couples everywhere walking around gleefully, hand-in-hand, debating between red or green napkins like itâs the most important decision of their lives. Meanwhile, youâre shuffling through the aisles in a massive oversized hoodie thatâs doing nothing to hide your puffy eyes and red nose.
Sniffling, you round the corner to the next aisle, looking for Taehyungâs stupid vegetable broth. Your cart collides with someone elseâs with a loud clang, and youâre thrown, apologizing like crazy, âOhmygod, Iâm so sorry, I wasnât paying attentionââ
â[Y/N]?â
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Hana.Â
The last time you saw Hana was last January after the breakup. She was collecting her things at Jungkookâs apartment, and youâd shown up at the wrong moment. Her eyes were bloodshot, movements solemn as she shoved books and clothes into a duffel bag. Sheâd barely looked at you, just mumbled a quiet âheyâ before brushing past you in the hallway. You had felt guilty then, even though you had no reason to be.Â
At least now, she looks radiant. Her skin reflects off the luminescent overhead lights, cart stocked full of fancy cheeses and wine bottles and overpriced crackers. She looks like someone who has her shit together. Someone whoâs moved on.
Unlike you, apparently, who looks like youâve been crying in your car. Which, by all means, you absolutely were.Â
âHana,â you slap a smile onto your face, although youâre 99 percent certain it looks strained. âItâs good to see you.â
âYou too!â She seems actually happy about the encounter. Itâs not like you two ever had a bad relationship, but you werenât besties by any means. âItâs been forever.â
âYeah, almost a year.â Youâre too hyperaware of your puffy eyes, your ratty hoodie, the fact that you probably look like youâve been hit by a truck. But of course, she looks like she just stepped out of Vogue.
âHow have you been?â she asks.Â
âGood. Busy. You know, the holidays,â You nod at your cart, which contains three different types of cheeses, ten bags of chips, and a bag of chocolate chips for yourself because you need to eat your feelings when you get home.Â
âI do,â she laughs. âWork has been insane lately. I barely have time to go outside.â
âRight, youâre at that new marketing agency now?â You remember Jungkook mentioning it once, back when talking about Hana was therapeutic for him.
âI do.â she nods. âItâs a lot but I love it. What about you? Still at the magazine?â
âI am. I actually just finished a pretty big piece, so thatâs good.â
âThatâs amazing,â she earnestly responds. You want to hate herâit would be easier if you could hate herâbut sheâs always been kind. Even when you wanted to despise her for being with Jungkook, she made it impossible.
Thereâs a lull in conversation, and you debate making a run for it until she asks, âHow are you and Jungkook?â
You furrow your brows. She could just ask you about Jungkook. You wouldnât judge her for wondering. âWhat do you mean?â
âI justââ A crimson blush creeps onto her cheeks. âI mean, how are you guys doing?â
Why would she ask about you both together? Granted, itâs not that unreasonable. You and Jungkook are attached at the hip; everyone knows that. âWeâre⊠good? Heâs good.â
âCool,â she says, but she doesnât even look convinced by your answer.Â
You donât know why you feel the need to overshare, but it all comes tumbling out like word vomit. âYeah, heâs actually been helping me plan this Christmas party. Total nightmare, honestly. Heâs been at my place basically every day this week, decorating andââ
She cracks a smile. âThatâs so cute you guys are still inseparable.â
âI mean⊠â you trail off, slightly confused by her angle. âWeâre best friends. So yeah.â
âOf course,â she rushes to say. âDuh. Silly me.â
âIs that... weird?â You clear your throat and shift on your feet. You donât even know what sheâs trying to get at anymore, and honestly, you really need to get as far away from this supermarket (or Seoul) as fast as you can.Â
âNo! No, not weird. I think itâs sweet, actually.â She pauses before adding, âI'm really happy for you guysâ
Either you must be braindead, or sheâs undergoing memory loss. âIâm sorry Hana, I donât think Iâm following.â
She laughs softly, but itâs not mocking. âCome on, [Y/N]. You donât have to pretend with me.â
Your stupid heart skips a beat, your brain struggling to make sense of her words. âPretend about what?â
âThat you and Jungkook arenât together, obviously.âÂ
Have you entered an alternate universe? Did you accidentally drive into another dimension in all your sadness, missed the supermarket completely?
âWhat?â you sputter. âNo, weâre notâoh my god, no. We would never, I meanâweâre best friends.â
She reaches out, placing a warm hand over your own. Youâre going to die. Itâll be a painful death, but youâll make it work. Anything to get out of this. âNo, itâs okay. You can tell. Honest to god, Iâm seeing someone now. Iâm not like, jealous or anything.â
Itâs confirmed. Youâve entered an alternate world where youâll soon grow a second head and become the queen of a make-believe land.Â
âHana, Iâm dead serious. Jungkook and I are not dating.â You need her to believe you. You need someone to believe you, because if Hana thinks thereâs something there, what the fuck does that mean? âWeâve never dated. Weâre just friends. Thatâs all weâve ever been.â
She studies your face, searching for the lies. Confusion replaces her certainty. âWait, really?â
âReally.â
âBut youâŠâ She trails off, shaking her head. âWow. Okay. I genuinely thought you guys had finally gotten together.â
Your throat constricts. âW-Why would you think that?â
âBecause,â she stops, biting her lip. âNevermind. Iâm sorry. I shouldnât have assumed.â
It gives you pause for a minute, and your heartâthat idiotic organ of yours that can never let go of anythingâtrembles in your chest.Â
âNo, what were you going to say?â Youâre not sure you want to know, but you canât let it go now.
She casually flicks her hand. âItâs nothing, I swear.â
You exhale a breath you didnât realize you were holding. âHana. Please.â Â
She sighs, shifting on her feet. âItâs just... when Jungkook and I were together, it was always pretty clear that you were the most important person in his life. Which, like, I totally respected! I did, I get it. But it was also kind of hard sometimes, you know? Like I was always competing with this... ghost. This idea of what you two had.â
Ever since you were young, people had this tendency to group you and Jungkook into this category of fate, as if the universe had done you both a favor by placing you in adjacent hospital cribs. It was always âyouâre lucky to have each otherâ and âwhat a gift to be so close,â that you had never stopped to consider that your luck, your fate, your happiness, your shining star, might cast shadows on the people who tried to love him.
âHana, I never meant toââ
âNo, no,â she rushes to say, âTrust me, it wasnât you. You did nothing wrong. Neither did he, really. He tried his best. But I could always tell his heart wasnât fully in it. At least, not in the way it should have been.â
Words fall short of what you want to say. Hana and Jungkookâs relationship had always felt like something out of reach to you. An enigma. The plot of some braindead romance novel. They met at a concert, an underground indie band that only the two of them liked. He had stumbled home that night with a smile on his face that couldnât be erased, eyes bright as exploding stars, talking so fast his words tripped over each other. You remember thinking this is it, the real thing, the love that rewrites him. You had never imagined that magic would ever run dry.Â
âAnyway,â Hana continues, âI just assumed that once we broke up, you two would figure it out. The way he talked about you, the way heâd light up when you texted... I don't know. I thought it was inevitable.â
âWell, itâs not.â The words prick your tongue like thorns. âWeâre just friends.â
âOh. Well, thatâs still cool,â she offers, but her eyes have gone all soft.Â
For a while, itâs quiet. Sheâs staring at you intently, chewing on her lip like she has more to say but needs to mash it down. But you really just want to grab Taehyungâs stupid vegetable broth and get the fuck out of here.Â
âIt was great to see you, Hana. I need to go andââ
â[Y/N], wait.â She latches onto your arm before you get a chance to escape.Â
You stare at her, wide-eyed, heart racing, mouth dry.Â
âI probably shouldn't be telling you this. Maybe it should be him, I donât fucking know," she says, rolling her eyes. "But clearly he hasnât grown the balls yet. Well, that, or his peanut brain hasnât pieced it together. But Iâm gonna tell you anyway.â
Your hands grip the cart handle. âTell me what?â
Thereâs a long pause, and you can feel her weighing her words. Until, finally, she admits, âLast Christmas, when we were under the mistletoe⊠when Jungkook kissed me.â She takes a deep breath. âHe was looking at you.â
Your first reaction is to laugh. Which you do, actually, loud enough to bounce off the cans of corn on the shelves. At the sound, Hana raises an eyebrow.Â
âWhat are you talking about?â you giggle. âNo, he wasnât.â
Sheâs watching you now with something that resembles pity.
âWe were under the mistletoe at your friend Jisooâs apartment. Everyone was there, all your friends. And he kissed me, butâŠâ Hana swallows thickly. âWhen we pulled apart, his eyes were open, and he wasnât looking at me. He was looking across the room at you.â
You think youâre going to die in this godforsaken supermarket.Â
âI didnât say anything that night. I thought maybe Iâd imagined it, but then it kept happening. Heâd be with me, but heâd be watching you. Listening for you, waiting for you to text or call.â She laughs dryly, but youâre not sure either of you find this funny. âOn New Years, I asked him about it. I asked him if he was in love with you.â
Bile rises up in your throat. You donât even think you want to hear the rest of this. If sheâs right, if itâs true, if youâve missed this, if, if, if..
âWhat did he say, Hana?â
âObviously, he lied and said no. He said you were just friends, and that I was being ridiculous. But then we broke up two weeks later. We both agreed we needed space, and I said that he wasnât ready for something serious. And maybe that's true, maybe I was reading into things." She finally meets your eyes again. "But I donât think I was.â
Last Christmas, you were so drunk on Jisooâs eggnog that you hardly remember anything. You try to piece together the snippets of the night you have. There was dinner, which you scarfed down in under a millisecond. Then you all played pin the cock on the Santa (not suitable for kids, but luckily, baby Haewon only lived in Dahyunâs uterus at that point). You barely even remember the mistletoe portion of the night. Thatâs got to be some kind of trauma response to the stupid little leaf.Â
âWhy are you telling me this?â Your voice sounds far away, like it belongs to someone else.
âBecause," Hanaâs lips curve upwards into a soft smile, âI spent a year loving someone who was in love with someone else, and it sucked, but you know what sucks more? Watching two people who are meant to be together waste time pretending theyâre not.âÂ
She reaches out and squeezes your arm. âIâm not bitter about it anymore. Iâm happy now. I want him to be happy too. I think... I think he could be very happy with you.â
You want to argue. You want to tell her sheâs wrong, that sheâs misremembering, that she too was poisoned by Jisooâs eggnog, that there's no way Jungkook feels that way about you.
But then you think about the box in his closet with your name on it. The teddy bear he kept. The way heâs been trying so hard to make you love Christmas again. The mistletoe he wanted to hang in your apartment.
No. It canât fucking be.Â
âI gotta go,â you say abruptly.Â
â[Y/N]ââ
But youâre already moving, abandoning your cart in the middle of the aisle, heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. You make it to your car before the tears start again, but this time theyâre different. This time, you donât know if youâre crying because youâve been in love with someone who doesn't love you back, or because you might've missed the entire thing completely.Â
Thereâs not enough wine in this apartment, nor this world, that will get you through this Christmas party in one piece.
It feels like the world is moving around you but youâre just glued to your kitchen, gripping your glass of white wine so tightly youâre surprised the stem hasnât snapped. Surprisingly enough, everyone arrived on timeâeven Namjoon and Dahyun, balancing poor baby Haewon on their hip, her tiny Santa hat slipping over one eye. Thereâs enough alcohol floating around to feed a bar, courtesy of Taehyungâs overenthusiastic mixology skills.Â
Itâs truly a splendid evening. A roaring success. Everything going exactly as planned.Â
Except, there are two minor (major) insignificant, soul-crushing details that are fucking up your perfect evening:Â
Hanaâs words have been playing on loop in your brain all day.Â
When Jungkook arrived, he looked at you for exactly 0.5 seconds, said absolutely nothing, and spent the last hour charming everyone else in the room.
Other than that, splendid evening. Gatsby would be seething with jealousy if he saw the kind of party you were throwing.
Jungkook had walked in, present in hand for Haewon (because he was her godfather and she practically got whatever she wanted when he was around), and heâd met your eyes before looking away. No smile. No âhey.â Not even a nod of acknowledgment.Â
Naturally, since torturing you seems first on his agenda, he chooses this night to become the town jester. Jennie has been laughing at his jokes for what seems like ages, her hand on his arm, her head thrown back in delight. Taehyung keeps pulling him into conversations, clapping him on the shoulder. Even Dahyun, who normally has her hands full, is more entranced by Jungkook than her own daughter.Â
Everyone loves Jungkook. Everyone always loves Jungkook.
Yet, he wonât even spare you a passing glance.Â
Itâs what you deserve, you know that, but your heart is cracking at the seams and your brain isnât faring any better.Â
You feel ill. Fucking ill.
Turning to the kitchen sink, you brace your hands on the counter. Breathe in. Breathe out. Youâre fine. You just need to get through the next few hours without having a complete breakdown in front of all your friends.
âYou alright?â
You jump, releasing an exhale when you see itâs just Jisoo. Sheâs holding a glass of red wine, matching with her burgundy turtleneck, eyebrow raised in that knowing way of hers that says she sees right through all your bullshit.
âOh, yeah,â you reply. âJust taking a quick breather.â
âMhm.â she eyes you up and down, leaning against the counter. âYouâre basically hiding at your own party.â
âCouldâve sworn you did this last year at your Christmas party when your lasagna came out burnt,â you point out.Â
Jisoo deadpans. âThis isnât about me. Weâre talking about you.â
Damnit. You were hoping she would let it go.
âIâm just here making sure everythingâs to perfection. Yâknow, Taehyung with his⊠vegetarianism..â
Jisoo takes a slow sip of her wine, âYou wanna try that again, or should I just cut to the part where you tell me whatâs actually wrong?â
Your heart falls to your ass. Jisoo is the one friend on this planet who has consistently read you down to the bone. Sheâs going to see right through any lie you try to feed her, so youâre wondering if itâs even worth it.Â
Itâs worth one last shot.Â
âNothingâs wrongââ
âBitch just tell me.â
You close your eyes and try to imagine a beach, somewhere tropical with waves kissing your ankles and sand that burns your feet. Try to imagine a world where you donât have to answer Jisoo's question, where Hana never ambushed you in the grocery store yesterday, where your feelings for Jungkook stayed frozen at age nine, still innocent and within reach.
Unfortunately, when you open your eyes again, youâre at a Christmas partyâyour Christmas party, in your annoyingly red sweaterâand Jisoo is staring at you expectantly.Â
âI fucked up.â
Jisoo doesnât look surprised in the slightest, which, okay. Rude. âWith Jungkook?â
You raise an eyebrow. âHow did you know that?â
âI mean, youâre not having a fight with any of the girls, or I wouldâve heard an earful. That and he wonât glance in your direction and you look like youâre about to throw up. Doesnât take Einstein.â She places her wine down. âWhat happened?â
Keeping it bottled up has never done you any favors, so you steady your voice and explain everything. How you didnât want to host the party in the first place because Christmas makes you miserable. How Jungkook kept pushing about the mistletoe. How you snapped at him, brought up Hana, threw his grief in his face. How he left and told you he needed space and you havenât spoken since.
You probably couldâve told her more, but you donât want to tell her about the mistletoe tradition. You donât tell her about being in love with him for thirteen years. Those truths feel like just yours.Â
When you finish, Jisoo is quiet for a long moment. Then, she sighs, levels you with a look, and says, âThat was a low blow.â
âI know.â
âLike, really bad.â
âI know.â
âHe was just trying to help, and you basically told him heâs pathetic for not being over his ex.â
âI know, Jisoo. Trust me, I know.â You press the heels of your palms against your eyes. âI feel like shit about it.â
âHave you apologized?â
âHe said he needed space. Hence why he wonât look at me.â
âI mean, space doesnât mean you canât say sorry.â She picks up her wine again. âLook, I get it. You were overwhelmed. The party planning, the decorations, whatever else is going on in that head of yours. But Jungkook didnât deserve thatâ.
âI know he didnât.â you reply, now having trouble controlling your voice. âI just... I donât know how to fix this.â
âThe word youâre looking for, my dear, is sorry,â she smiles sympathetically.Â
You nod, even though the thought of approaching him right now makes you want to crawl into a hole.Â
The party outside seems to pick up in volume, and through the crack in the doorway, you see Jungkook holding baby Haewon, cradling her carefully against his chest like sheâs made of glass. Heâs wearing a dark green sweater, the color of mistletoe, and his skin looks golden under the string lights he helped set up. Heâs cooing at the baby, making ridiculous faces, and Haewon is giggling, her tiny hand reaching up to grab his nose.
Dahyun is standing next to him, saying something that makes him laugh, and the light sound carries over the music and chatter. Itâs his real laugh, the one that crinkles his nose and shows all his teeth, the one you thought you only got to see.Â
And suddenly you can picture it with perfect clarity: Jungkook, a few years from now, holding his own baby. His and someone elseâs, some girl who isnât you, who doesnât have years of baggage and unspoken feelings weighing her down. Someone who can give him the uncomplicated love he deserves.
You didnât even realize Jisoo was talking until you feel her hand on your arm.Â
Blinking out of your daze, you snap back to the kitchen, to the party, to reality. âSorry, what?â
But itâs too lateâJisoo isnât looking at you anymore. Sheâs following your gaze to the dining room, to Jungkook and the baby, and understanding dawns across her face.
âOh,â she says.Â
Who knew a single syllable could carry so much weight?
âHow long?â Jisoo questions.
âHow long what?â
âDo not play dumb with me, missy. How long have you been in love with him?â
Youâve been tiptoeing around the truth for a long time. But youâre so tired of pretending, and the wine has loosened your tongue, and Jisoo is looking at you with such gentle understanding that the truth just spills out.
âSince I was a kid.â
Jisoo's eyes widen. âJesus Christ, [Y/N].â
âYeah,â is all you can offer.
âDoes he know?â She lowers her voice, leans more into you like he might somehow hear across the room.Â
âAbsolutely not,â you retort. âHe canât, and he wonât. It would ruin our friendship.â
She opens her mouth to protest, to probably give you some grand speech on how love wins above all, but you hold your hand up to stop her. âIâm serious, Jisoo. You canât tell him. Pinky promise me.â
She studies you for a long moment, and you can see her debating whether to push. Finally, she sighs and holds out her pinkie. âI promise. But for the record, I think youâre an idiot.â
âI get that a lot.â
From the dining room, you hear Jungkook laugh again, and it feels like someoneâs wrapped barbed wire around your heart and pulled tight.
âYou really should talk to him, though,â Jisoo repeats. âLike tonight, before it gets worse.âÂ
Itâs already worse.Â
âI canât,â you disagree, taking a gulp of wine. âYou saw him. The man wonât even look at me.â
âBecause heâs pissed, not âcause he hates you.â She squeezes your arm. âThis is Jungkook weâre talking about. Your Jungkook. Heâs probably just as miserable as you are.â
The words your Jungkook make you shiver. Heâs never actually been yours in any way that matters. But god, the way Jisoo says it makes you want to believe it. Makes you want to crawl inside those two words and live there, in a world where your Jungkook means heâs yours the way youâve always been his. Completely, irrevocably, in every way a person can belong to another.
âI donât know, he seems to be the fucking class clown tonight,â you mumble into your wine, and Jisoo snorts.Â
âI promise you heâs waiting for you to make the first move. He said he needed space, but that doesnât mean he wants the space. You know how he isâheâs a loverboy. Gets all up in his feelings and shit.â
You do know. Youâve known Jungkook long enough to recognize all his patterns.
Either way, you know just what to say to appease Jisoo. âMaybe later.â
âLater as in tonight, or later as in youâre going to avoid him until you two just forget about it and move on?âÂ
Yeah, exactly that.Â
âWeâll see.â
Jisoo gives you a look that says she knows exactly what âwe'll seeâ means in your vocabulary. âWhatâs your therapistâs name again? I want to give them a call.â
You hold up your middle finger.Â
âItâs gonna be a loooong night,â she exhales a loud breath.
And truly, she must have magical powers or something, because it is nothing short of a treacherous evening for you.Â
It all starts with Dahyun intercepting you, forcing you to hold Haewon. âCan you hold her for a sec? I need to use the bathroom and Joonâs three drinks deep trying to explain some conspiracy theory to Taehyung.âÂ
Youâre halfway through your protest when she just plops Haewon into your arms. She settles against your chest with a little coo, her Santa hat askew. She smells like powder, milk, and Dahyunâs perfume. Her tiny fist curls into your sweater, and despite the trainwreck that is your life, you smile brightly.Â
âHi, pretty girl,â you murmur, adjusting her weight. âI bet you donât know what itâs like to be in love with someone who doesnât love you back. Because everyone loves you, since youâre perfect.â
Bouncing her gently, you two sway in place, and she makes a happy gurgling sound as if to say âyes, I know Iâm perfect.â Someone has put on Nat King Cole, and the crooning voice of âThe Christmas Songâ fills your apartment with a nostalgic warmth youâve been trying to avoid all month.
Haewon has the cutest little fingers and even tinier toes, and it amazes you how someone so utterly perfect could exit your friend Dahyunâs body. Before she met Namjoon, she was nothing short of a party girl, but now, her days are filled with Mommy & Me yoga classes and supermarket runs.Â
Itâs your dream life, you think. One that you would give anything to live with Jungkook.Â
Youâre so focused on this fantasy, the one youâve conjured up in your head and dreams for years, that you donât even realize Jungkook is blatantly staring at you.Â
Heâs standing near the drinks table, a bottle of beer frozen halfway to his lips. You meet his eyes, and itâs just you and Jungkook (and Haewon).Â
Haewon squirms in your arms, breaking your gaze. You look down at her, adjusting her hat, heart hammering against your ribcage. When you look back up, Jungkook has turned away, saying something to Taehyung that you canât hear over the blood whooshing in your ears.
But his knuckles are white around his beer bottle.Â
Later on in the night, after youâve tended to Taehyungâs vegetarian needs and listened to Jisoo rant about how clean eating relates to consumerism, you retreat to the kitchen under the guise of refilling the snack bowls. No one needs more chipsâthere are three unopened bags on the counterâbut you need a moment of reprieve.Â
You rip open a bag of pretzels, and a few go flying everywhere, but you manage to catch them in your hand.Â
âNeed any help?â
Your body goes rigid. Youâre certain even your heart has stopped its beat.Â
Jungkook is standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you. The green sweater really is unfair. The golden undertone of his skin shimmers under your fluorescent light, makes his eyes look lustrous.Â
âAll good here,â you retort. âIâm just restocking.â
He makes a noise of acknowledgment, shuffling closer toward you.Â
You pour pretzels into a bowl with more force than necessary, and several bounce onto the counter.
âThe partyâs a hit,â he offers.Â
âYeah. Everyone seems happy.âÂ
âThe foodâs really good too.â
âIt was all Namjoon and Dahyun,â you snort. Your dream of getting food catered pretty much died immediately. Then you tried cracking open a recipe book and nearly fainted.Â
This is excruciating. Youâve never done small talk with Jungkook. Never needed to.Â
âListenââ
âJungkook,â you say in unison.Â
Words cease to exist. You both stop. A dreadful, awkward silence fills the kitchen.
He clears his throat. âI want us to talk later after everyone leaves. If thatâs okay with you?â
Where the idea of talking to him used to excite you, is now replaced by a pit in your stomach that wonât budge.Â
Hanaâs words crash back into your consciousness. He was looking at you.
But what if she was wrong? What if she saw something that wasnât there because she was hurt and wanted an explanation that made sense? What if you let yourself hope and it destroys you?
âMaybe, Jungkook.â
Disappointment flashes across his face. He nods slowly. âCool, yeah, uh, just let me know.â
He turns to leave, and you want to say more, want to stop him from leaving.
Your mind runs back to the grocery store, Hanaâs words.Â
You open your mouthâto say what, you don't know. Sorry. Wait. I need to tell you something.
âJungkook.â
Jennie pokes her head into the kitchen, oblivious to everything. âThere you are! Taeâs trying to make everyone play some weird drinking game. You have to come referee before I murder him.â
Jungkook looks back at you, a question in his eyes.
âGo ahead,â you smile. âIâll join in a sec.â
He hesitates for just a second, then follows Jennie to the party.
By the time you make it back to the living room, Taehyung has indeed corralled everyone into some drinking game involving Christmas trivia. You slide into an empty spot on the couch next to Jisoo, who gives you a pointed look that you ignore.Â
âIs this a joke?â you ask.Â
âTis not, Christmas hater,â Taehyung jokes. He explains the rules of the game, most of which you spend picking at your fingernails. The game begins with Jennie getting a question wrong about Rudolph and has to take a shot of tequila. Dahyun argues that her answer about Home Alone is technically correct. Jungkook keeps score attentively, tongue poking through his teeth.Â
You're almost starting to relax when Namjoon, flushed from wine and dad-exhaustion, looks around your apartment with squinted eyes.
âWait,â he says loud enough to make Taehyungâs and Jisooâs current feud halt. âWhereâs the mistletoe?âÂ
Last Christmas by Wham is blaring from your speakers, and you can hear traffic from the street below, but a barrage of red alerts blasts through your brain.Â
Shit.Â
Your throat goes dry.
âYeah!â Dahyun laughs, adjusting Haewon on her lap. âWhere is it? I thought mistletoe was like, mandatory at Christmas parties.â
âMaybe she forgot,â Jennie offers, and you could kiss her on the lips.Â
âFeels like a crazy thing to forget,â Jisoo chimes in, and you shush her with a glare.Â
âI didnât forget.â You can feel Jungkookâs eyes on you, but you donât look at him. âI just didnât put one up.âÂ
âWhy not?â Taehyung interrogates, crossing his arms over his chest. âItâs tradition.â
Tradition. That stupid fucking word.Â
âItâs not really my thing.â You shrug.Â
âSince when?â Jennie arches a brow. âIn college, you made us all kiss under the mistletoe in Jihyoâs dorm.â
You were obliterated and desperately trying to create some scenario where kissing Jungkook would happen again, even as a joke. It hadnât worked. Heâd kissed Jisoo on the cheek and youâd kissed Namjoon and everyone had laughed and moved on and youâd gone home and cried into your pillow.
âI was drunk,â you argue.Â
Jisoo is studying her drink intensely, and by the sheer force of mind reading, you beg her not to say something.
âI think it's nice,â Dahyun says, attempting to ease the awkwardness. âMore elegant without it, you know? Like out of an Ikea catalogue!â
You throw her a grateful look.Â
âIt does save people from those awkward forced kisses with people they donât want to kiss,â she adds, and multiple other people nod in agreement.
âExactly! Thatâs exactly it.â You practically leap out of your seat.Â
But you can still feel Jungkook looking at you. You chance a glance in his direction and immediately regret it. Heâs not trying to hide his expression anymore. He looks visibly hurt, with his jaw tight and lips twitching.Â
âShould we keep playing?â Jennie asks, and bless her for it.
âYeah,â Taehyung shuffles his trivia cards. âAlright, next question is for Jungkook.â
The game resumes, clockwise around the room, but even then, neither you or Jungkook care about anything else but each other.Â
Jungkookâs not sure when it happened.
There wasnât a single moment, no dramatic revelation where the clouds parted and you were all grown up. It was more like watching a sunrise, so gradual that he didnât even notice it was happening until the entire sky was painted in vivid bright colors. One day you were his best friend, the girl who knew all his secrets and laughed at his dumb jokes and fell asleep during movie nights with your head on his shoulder. Then, somewhere along the way, you became something moreâflourished into a beautiful flower.Â
He thinks it might have started in high school, when you showed up to junior prom in that light blue dress that complemented your eyes. Your mother spent thirty minutes poking and prodding at your dress, noting that you were âfilling out nicely,â and it had taken all of Jungkookâs might not to ogle at your growing chest.Â
It couldâve also been in college, after you went through your first breakup and decided the proper next step was to cut your hair short, revealing the curve of your neck. He had stared for the better half of a week, and luckily, it went away once winter rolled around and you wore turtlenecks.Â
It could have been last year, when you laughed so hard at one of his stories that you snorted wine out of your nose, and instead of being grossed out, heâd thought it was the most endearing thing heâd ever witnessed.
Maybe itâs always been there, lurking underneath your friendship.Â
The thing is, Jungkook has always been sure heâs not in love with you. Heâs never let himself think about it in those terms, never let the thought fully form before shoving it back down where it belongs. You are his best friend, have been since before he understood what friendship meant. Youâre the person who knows him better than anyone, whoâs seen him at his worst and somehow still shows up. Youâre the constant in his life, the thing heâs never had to question.
But in the quiet of his own mind, he can acknowledge that you are utterly and thoroughly beautiful.Â
Youâre brilliant too, in ways that constantly surprise him even after knowing you for years. Sharp and funny and creative, with this ability to see people that makes everyone feel understood. You remember things, stupid little details about peopleâs lives that they mentioned once in passing. Youâre the kind of person who makes playlists for your friends based on their moods.Â
You made one for him last month. Called it âwhen koo is in his feelings.âÂ
He listened to it on the way to the Christmas party.
And yeah, okay, maybe he thinks about you more than a best friend probably should. Like when heâs dating someone, thereâs always this small part of his brain remembering things to tell you later, moments youâd find funny or interesting. Sometimes, he compares every girl he dates to you without meaning to⊠itâs just the way they laugh never quite measures up, their sense of humor is always slightly off, their understanding of him remains surface-level.
But thatâs all normal friend stuff, he thinks.Â
âPenny for your thoughts?âÂ
Namjoon sidles up beside Jungkook, hugging a beer bottle tight to his chest. Itâs the first time heâs drank in a while, and Jungkook resists the urge to laugh at just how drunk he looks.Â
Jungkook takes a long sip of his beer, watching you over the rim of the bottle. Youâre laughing at something Jisoo said, but it doesnât reach your eyes. âItâs nothing.â
âShut up.â Namjoon leans against the wall for stability. âTell me whatâs up.â
âNothingâs up.â
âShouldnât you be out there, making my wife laugh harder than I have?âÂ
Jungkook rolls his eyes. âIâm tired.â
âYou have the energy of a bunny, so I doubt that,â Namjoon snickers. âCâmon, fess up. I never get involved with drama anymore after Haewon. Enlighten me.â
Jungkook considers deflecting again, but what's the point? Namjoon's going to stand here until he cracks. âWe got in a fight. Me and [Y/N].â
âOh shit, for real?â When Jungkook meekly nods, Namjoon takes another swig of beer. âWhat about?â
âI wanted to hang up a mistletoe for the party and she said no.â God, saying it out loud seems so stupid. âI pushed it and then sheâŠâ
âShe what?âÂ
âShe said some mean things, then I said some things. It got messy.â
âThis sounds kinda dumb,â Namjoon jokes, and Jungkook levels him with a piercing glare. He knows itâs dumb, knows this whole thing is stupid, but he can;t shake the feeling that thereâs something unresolved lingering underneath. âYouâll be fine.â
âYeah.â
âThat was not a confident yeah.â
âI mean, I told her we should talk after the party. She said maybe,â Jungkook laughs dryly. âChances of us talking are looking pretty low right now.â
âDude,â Namjoon exhales a breath. âSheâs not going to stay away from you. That girl loves you.â
âI donât knowâŠâ
âYou know where she lives. You have a key, for godâs sake.â
Jungkook does have a key. In his defense, you have one to his place too. Itâs never not been a thingâyouâve been trading apartment keys since college, back when you lived in that shitty studio with the broken heater and he needed to water your plants when you went home for your momâs birthday.
âI think she really wants space this time, though,â he frowns. He doesnât like the idea of it, but itâs part of his fault youâre even in this predicament right now.Â
âYou guys are idiots.â Namjoon stares at him. âWhy do you look so sad about this? Itâs just a little fight, right?â
Jungkook opens his mouth to agree, but he chokes on the words forming in his throat. His eyes find you across the room again. Youâre holding Haewon, swaying gently, and the baby's grabbing at your hair with her tiny fists. You smile down at her, and even from here, he can see the softness in your expression, and how youâve adjusted your hold to support her head.
He doesnât really know why, but his heart seizes.
âYeah. I think so.â
Namjoon hums. âItâs not like, âŠanything more, right?â
Jungkook furrows his brows, tearing his gaze away from you. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âYâknow what I meanâŠâ Namjoon starts doing some weird vague gestures with his hand, and Jungkookâs beer-soaked brain struggles to keep up. âItâs not like that with you two?â
Oh.Â
âNo, no. Itâs not like that with us,â Jungkook denies quickly, almost too quickly. He knows itâs not impractical for someone to suggest. Ever since he was a young boy, heâs been curbing questions regarding your relationship status. It never annoyed him; in fact, it filled him with pride knowing people thought he was worthy of what sunshine you had to offer. âSheâs my best friend.â
âCouldâve fooled me.â
âExcuse me?â
Jungkookâs chest feels tight.Â
But Namjoon doesnât note the way his face goes pale, or the way his fingers flex around his bottle. He continues on, âBro, Iâm not trying to start anything. But Iâve known you since college, and Iâve watched you do this thing where you date someone, it gets serious, and then somehow it always ends. And you know what the common denominator is?â
He really doesnât want Namjoon to say anymore. Doesnât want him to vocalize what might actually be true, but has been something Jungkook has been mashing down for decades of his life. Naked, unmistakable fear courses through him.Â
âHer.â Namjoon points with his beer bottle. âEvery single time, you come back to her. You text her more than your girlfriend, or you cancel dates if she needs you. You measure everyone against her without even realizing youâre doing it.â
Jungkook canât speak, because itâs true. He knows itâs true. Heâs done it countless times, like when it was he and Sanaâs one-year anniversary, but you had the flu, so he dropped everything to take care of you. Or when Chaeyoung got upset with him because he had responded to your text before even giving hers a second glance.Â
He canât help it.Â
âYouâve been dragging her through your relationships for years,â Namjoon says, âAt some point, you need to ask yourself why you keep coming back to her.â
âBut sheâs my best friend!â Jungkook protests petulantly. âWe always show up for each other.â
âYeah, but do best friends look at each other the way youâre looking at her right now?â
Jungkook hadnât even realized heâd been staring again. Youâve handed Haewon back to Dahyun and youâre laughing at something, a hand flying up to cover your mouth in that way you do when you think your laugh is too loud. Itâs not, Jungkook thinks, Itâs never too loud.
âWhat do you want me to say?â Jungkook mumbles, averting his eyes to his scuffed-up shoes.Â
âI feel like you should just be honest with yourself, Kook.â Namjoon claps him on the shoulder. âIâm willing to bet money on the fact that your fight wasnât really about the mistletoe.â
âI donât think so,â Jungkook scoffs. He hopes he looks nonchalant, but his hands are trembling.
Namjoon doesnât utter another word, and for a moment, Jungkook thinks itâs over. Namjoon will let it go and theyâll move on. He shifts weight onto his other foot, taking a swig from his beer.
âJungkook.â Fuck, if the way Namjoonâs looking at him right now is any indication of whatâs to come, heâs so fucked. âYou know sheâs in love with you, right?â
Itâs out in the open, and he canât believe Namjoon just said it, doesnât know where he even got that idea, but he does know that it must be the truth. It has to be, because he would never suggest otherwise. And the notion should be earth-shattering, world-tilting, but itâs not.Â
Maybe Jungkook knew this whole time.Â
âNo-No, sheâs notâweâre notââ
But the more he ruminates on it, he realizes: you canât be. Youâve neverâthereâs never been any indicationâyouâve never said anything or done anything orâ
In all the years heâs known you, youâve never dated someone seriously. Like living together, talk of engagement. Sure, there were a few guys here and there in college, but nothing that stuck. Nothing that lasted more than a month or two. Heâd always figured you were just picky, focused on your career, not interested in settling down.
Was there more to that? Jungkookâs heart jolts in his chest.Â
Oh god. Oh fuck.
How long? How long have you been carrying this? Since you were kids? Since high school? College? How many years has he been obliviously parading girlfriends in front of you, kissing them under mistletoe, talking about his relationships, asking for your advice about girls who werenât you?
His hands are shaking. He sets his beer down on the nearest surface before he drops it.
âI think, maybe, youâve always known.â Namjoonâs voice sounds like itâs coming from far away.Â
All those times he came back to you after dates that didnât go well. All those nights you stayed up listening to him talk about his problems with whatever girl he was seeing. All those moments he chose you over them without even thinking about it because being with you was easy and comfortable and right in a way nothing else ever was.
He can never remember half of those girlsâ names. Canât remember what he saw in them or why he thought any of them were worth it.Â
But he remembers every Christmas with you.
He remembers all of it.Â
Jungkook looks up, searching for you in the crowd, and finds you emerging from the kitchen with Jisoo.Â
Panic claws up his throat. âBut sheâs never said anythingâlike, we neverââ
âIf I were her, I wouldnât say anything.â Namjoon shrugs.Â
Jungkook feels like he can't breathe. âYou donât know what youâre talking about. Youâre justâyouâre guessingââ
âI am assuming, but I know enough. Dahyun has me watching a ton of kdramas, so I know when someoneâs pining.â
His credentials are questionable.Â
âThat'sââ Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt. âFuck. Why wouldnât she tell me?â
âProbably because you introduce her to new girlfriends everyday.â Namjoonâs words are blunt, but his expression is sympathetic. âThink about it. When has she ever had the space to tell you?â
Never. The answer is never. Because heâs always been with someone or getting over someone or talking about someone, and even when he wasnât, he was busy treating your friendship like it was sacred.Â
Jungkook was so busy protecting what you had that he never stopped to think about what you could be.Â
âI didnât know,â Jungkook admits weakly.Â
âItâs fine. You do now.â Namjoon takes a massive gulp of his beer, placing the empty bottle on the nearby table. âBy the way, why did you care so much if she hosted? Why did it matter if it was at her place? You knew Dahyun and I didnât mind.â
Jungkookâs guilt wraps around him like a hug. He does feel guilty about lying, he truly does, but he doesnât have a good answer. Namjoonâs place would have worked fine, baby or not. Jisooâs apartment was an option despite Taehyung's dog allergy. They could have figured something out.
But he had told everyone secretly that you needed to host this year.Â
For a long, long moment, Jungkook is silent. He pushes through the fear, the nerves, the voices in his head telling him otherwise. He tells Namjoon, âBecause Christmas is ours.â
To no oneâs surprise, Namjoon and Dahyun are the first to make their exit. Haewon is already fast asleep on her fatherâs shoulder, snoring peacefully. Then Jisoo leaves, who gives you a long, meaningful look and a whisper of âtext me laterâ that you have no intention of following through on. Taehyung and Jennie linger for a little before they realize they have more pressing matters to attend to (read: their new vibrator they ordered).
Youâre certain Jungkook slipped out sometime in the middle of the exodus. You donât see him leave, but you hear the door close a final time and feel the absence of him.
Wonderful. You can clean up in peace and spend the rest of the night spiraling about Hanaâs words, the talk you never had with Jungkook, and how quickly youâll be able to move countries and change names.
Youâre elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing at a wine glass aggressively, when you hear footsteps behind you.
What the fuck. Did you leave your door unlocked?
Itâs definitely Taehyung. With a gulp, you crane your neck to see behind the doorway.Â
And then you scream.Â
You drop the glass into the sink, whirling around with your wet hands up like youâre going to fight off an intruder with dish soap.
Jungkook jumps, hands flying up in surrender. âOh my god, sorry! Sorry, sorry, Iâm sorryââ
âFucking hell, Jungkook!â Your heart tries to escape from your body. âI thought you left!â
âI was in the bathroom.â His eyes are wide, looking genuinely distressed at having scared you. âI didnât mean toâI thought you knew I was still here?â
Soap suds drip down your arms. Heâs pressed against your bookshelf, trying to camouflage into your books. Itâs ridiculous, but itâs so like you both that it makes you giggle.Â
Itâs a soft one, but he notices it and snorts in response. And then you two erupt into endless laughter, your heart soaring at the familiar sound of his timbre. His chest shakes with each laugh, and tears fall from your eyes.
But after a few seconds, the laughter finally fades, and you two stand there, sizing the other up.Â
âWhat are you still doing here?â you ask, reaching for a dish towel to dry your hands.Â
âI wanted to see if you were open to talking.â
You turn off the running water, pivoting to face him fully.
âI am.â
He takes a deep breath, swallowing thickly. Jungkook does this thing where his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek when heâs struggling to find the right words. Youâve seen him do it countless times.
His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.
âIâm sorry.â Jungkook says. âAbout the fightâŠabout pushing you to hostâŠand the, uh, the mistletoe thing.â He runs his fingers through his hair. âI didnât mean to hurt you. I justâChristmas has always been our thing since we were kids. It was always ours, and I donât know⊠I guess I didnât want that to change.âÂ
With him, things are always stagnant. Theyâre stable, trustworthy, and you know theyâll always be there. Youâre not sure where his childlike wonder wentâall those times he would drag you to unknown places to explore, or made you try new foods even if you knew youâd hate it.Â
But maybe youâre not worth the risk for him.Â
âMe neither,â you agree quietly.Â
You swivel back to face the sink, tears brimming your eyes. Reaching for another glass, you flick on the water, dousing your hands in soap. The water is frigid but you plunge your hands in anyway.Â
âHey,â comes Jungkookâs calm voice.Â
You keep scrubbing.Â
âHey.â
His fingers wrap around your arm, and you let out a sigh.Â
âThatâs it? Thatâs all?âÂ
You canât look at him. If you look at him, youâll break. âWhat else do you want me to say? I forgive you? I do. Jungkook, this is stupid.â
âI donât know. Something. Anything.â His hand lingers on your bare skin. âDonât shut me out. We had one fight and for some reason, it feels like Iâm losing you and I donâtââ He stops, takes a breath. âTalk to me.â
Thereâs so much you could say. You could tell him about the mistletoe tradition and how itâs haunted you. You could tell him about watching him fall in love over and over with people who arenât you. You could tell him about Hana and the grocery store and how you havenât been able to think about anything else since.
But most importantly, you could tell him the truth: youâve been in love with him since you were a child, and every Christmas since you were 15 years old felt like getting stabbed repeatedly.
Jungkookâs eyes are red-rimmed, lips quivering. Heâs still tethered to your arm, unable to let go as if youâll disappear. Youâre disgustingly terrified of this moment, not of losing him, but because heâs never even been yours to lose. Everything could change. You could say the words and watch your friendship shatter. You could tell the truth and have him look at you with pity, or worse, heâll look at you and apologize, say he doesnât feel the same towards you.Â
What if what you need to move on isnât to ignore it, but accept the rejection?
You can do that, you think.Â
You swallow, âJungkookââ
âPlease,â he pleads, âI canât fix it if I donât know whatâs wrong.â
You finally turn to face him, and his hand slides down from your arm but doesnât let go completely. His fingers catch yours, wet and soapy as they are, and hold on.
âI donât even know where to begin,â you admit.Â
âStart anywhere.â His thumb brushes against your knuckles, and you donât even think he realizes heâs doing it. âMaybe⊠start with why you donât like Christmas anymore.â
Thatâs the question, isnât it? Thatâs the thread that, if pulled, will unravel everything.
âDo you⊠remember our mistletoe tradition?â
He furrows his brows. You had just reminisced on it a few days ago, but somehow it feels like a lifetime. âOf course.â
âDo you remember when it all started?â
He looks at you like youâre an apparition. âYeah.â
âWe were just kids⊠but you kissed my cheek and I thought it was the most magical thing in the world. We did it every year, every year until you finally kissed me on the lips.â
Jungkook inhales audibly, nods once, and squeezes your hands tighter.Â
âIt became my favorite day of the year,â you continue, and you sound out of breath. âIt wasnât because of the presents, or the food, or Santa. It was those three seconds under the mistletoe with you. I lived for it. Counted down the days to it. And when we were 15, you got your first girlfriend.â
Understanding starts to dawn on his face, and itâs almost worse than if he didnât get it.
âYou kissed her under the mistletoe that year.â You swallow back the sob that climbs up your throat. âI watched and I stood there and you gave her this real kiss, this romantic kiss, and I realized that all those years⊠they were just a game to you. A tradition.â
He opens his mouth, most likely to object, but you speak over him.Â
âIt just kept happening. There was always someone there, someone who wasnât me. I smiled and pretended I was happy for you while I was watching you fall in love with people who⊠whoâŠâ Now or never, you think. â....who got to have what I wanted.â
Tears begin to blur your vision, muddling Jungkookâs features.Â
âIâve been in love with you for god knows how long, Jungkook. And every Christmas since I was 15 is just a constant, giant, unavoidable reminder that you donât love me the way I love you.â
The tears are falling freely, hot and fast, painting your cheeks.Â
âThatâs why I didnât want to host. Thatâs why I didnât want the mistletoe. Because I canâtââ Your voice breaks. âI canât watch you kiss someone else under it again. I canât do it anymore. Itâs killing me.â
You remove your hands from his, wiping furiously away at the wetness on your face. When you blink, you notice Jungkookâs also crying. Cheeks ruddy and chest heaving, lips trembling. â[Y/N]. I-I⊠how come you never said anything?â
âYouâre my best friend, Koo.â You wrap your arms around yourself, self-soothing the ache thatâs built in your chest. âIf you donât love me like that, I completely understand. I do. Youâve never given me any indication that you feel the same way and thatâs okay, thatâs fine, Iâll get over it eventuallyââ
Jungkookâs face falls, softening. â[Y/N]-â
âI donât want to lose you. I canât. Youâre the most important person in my life and if telling you this means youâre going to look at me differently or feel weird around me orââ
âStop.â he firmly says, and his hands come up to cup your face. His thumbs wipe at your tears and you know you look like a wreck, but heâs looking at you as though you were sent from the heavens above. âJust stop for a second.â
You hiccup, trying to catch your breath.Â
âCan we stand in the doorway?â he asks.Â
You deadpan. âWhat?âÂ
âThe doorway,â he repeats like thatâs supposed to clarify anything for you. He takes one of your hands in his, peeling you away from the counter. âCan we stand in the doorway?â
âIâwhat? Why?âÂ
You blindly follow him, like you always do. Let him lead you out of your kitchen. Your living room is a messâempty glasses and crumpled napkins, remnants of your Christmas party.
Jungkook positions you in the doorway between your living room and hallway. His green sweater brings out his sparkling eyes, and your heart flutters in your chest.Â
âJungkook, can you just reject me quickly so we can move onââ
âLook up.â He smiles.Â
With shaky breath, you crane your neck.Â
Hanging from your doorway is a mistletoe. Thereâs a red ribbon tied around it, dangling back and forth to the tune of your oscillating fan.Â
You snort out a snot bubble, but neither you nor him seem to care too much. âWhen did that even get there?â
âWell, I had to wait till the end of the night,â he remarks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck that iss now flushed crimson. âI thought you might rip my dick off or something if I did it earlier.â
You sink your fingernails into your palms to keep yourself grounded, to keep yourself from leaping paces ahead. Behind your ribcage, your heart stumbles.Â
Heâs the first to laughâitâs wet and graceless, body shaking in tandem. Youâre laughing too, but also crying.Â
Your heart soars like itâs trying to escape your chest and fly around the room.Â
Jungkook settles down, and something softer crosses his expression. When he speaks next, his voice is steady, sure of himself.Â
âYou think I donât feel the same way?â His voice breaks. âYou thinkâJesus Christ, [Y/N], youâre all I think about. Youâre all I ever thought about.â
âReally?â you whisper, voice so feeble you think he canât possibly have heard it.Â
But he nods.Â
âI wake up, and the first thing I do is check my phone to see if youâve texted me. I go through my entire day remembering things to tell you laterâstupid shit, important shit, all the stuff in between. When something good happens, youâre the first person I want to tell. When something bad happens, you'âre the only person I want to see.â He wipes a stray tear thatâs made its way down his cheek. âYouâre the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I fall asleep, and most nights I dream about you too.â
âYouâŠâ you trail off, shake your head. Thereâs no words to describe how you feel, no proper sentence to show how your entire body feels like itâs on fire.Â
âLet me say this because I should have said it years ago. A decade ago. I should have said it every single Christmas instead of being with people who werenât you and pretending that was enough.â
Jungkook takes a step forward. His scent envelops you, makes you feel at home. Like youâre six years old again and anything is possible.Â
âI kissed you under that mistletoe when we were kids because if anyone was going to be my first kiss, it was going to be you. I didnât even really understand what kissing meant. But I knew I wanted it to be you.â
He lets out a breathy, quiet laugh. And it feels like youâre kids again, standing under the mistletoe, pulling into each other like magnets.Â
âI kept doing it every year becauseâbecause those three seconds were mine. They were ours. It didnât matter that I was too young to understand what it meant or why it made my stomach feel weird or why Iâd think about it for weeks afterwards. I just knew that kissing you under the mistletoe was the best part of Christmas⊠the best part of my whole year.â
âYou know, I was never able to understand why my relationships never seemed to work. Why no one ever wanted to stay with me for the long run. And it took me a long time, but Iâve got it all figured out now.â He has to stop to clear his throat, and itâs then, and only then, that you see the tears glistening in his eyes again. âI think⊠I think Iâve been looking for pieces of you in every girl I meet.â Â
Your feet remain frozen to your floor. If you pinch yourself, youâll wake up from this dream, and you want to live in it as long as life will allow.Â
âIâd find a girl who had your hair color, or a similar sense of humor, or the way you scrunch your nose when youâre thinking, and Iâd think âthis is it, this is the one.â But it never was, because they werenât you,â he says. âI would be on dates, and think about what youâd say about the restaurant, or the movie, or the conversation. I could be kissing someone and wonder why it didnât feel the way it felt when I kissed you when we were children.â
He takes another step, hardwood floor creaking beneath his weight.Â
Heâs so close you can almost taste his woodsy scent.Â
âIâm a coward, [Y/N]. I kept dating people, kept trying to make it work with someone else, because I thought if I could just find the right person, Iâd stop being in love with you.â
âKoo,â is all you can manage.
âBut there is no right person for me. Thereâs just you, thereâs only ever been you. Youâre not a piece of the puzzle, [Y/N]. You are the whole fucking puzzle. Every piece, every corner, every goddamn edge. And Iâve been trying to force other pieces to fit for years, but they donât. They canât.â His tears are moving faster than he can stop them, and he lets them pour out of his eyes onto his sweater.Â
âThe only reason I stopped kissing you under the mistletoe was because I was falling in love with you.â Heâs grinning through his tears. The kind of grin youâve been the only person to extract out of him. âI was a stupid kid who was falling in love with their best friend and the first thought I had was: what if you didnât feel the same way? What if I told you and you laughed in my face? And I know Iâm stupid, but I stopped because I needed to tell myself I was over it, that it was a phase, that we were just friends.â
Jungkook takes one final step forward until youâre practically nose-to-nose.Â
His voice is no higher than a whisper. âI never got over it, though. I never stopped loving you.â
Your head is spinning. Jeon Jungkook. Your best friend, your platonic soulmate, your everythingâŠ
âYou⊠you love me?â
âI love you so fucking much,â he confirms. âI love the way you sing off-key during all our car rides together, and the way you cry during commercials with pets. The way you remember everyoneâs birthdays, even if they donât remember yours. I love how you scrunch your nose when youâre concentrating and how you chew your lip when youâre nervous. I love your terrible jokes and your beautiful laugh and how magical everything suddenly feels when youâre around.â
Inevitably, youâre sobbing too. Not in a pretty way, but you donât think it matters anymore. Nothing matters but this.Â
âI love that I was lucky enough to be born the same day as you, that the universe knew before we knew that there was no me without you. I love that I know everything about youâyour favorite color, your biggest fears, how you like your tea. I love that you know me better than anyone else in the world.âÂ
His hands go to cup your face. âSo, yeah, I do love you. And I know I wasted time, but I am telling you now with utmost certainty. If you'll let me, I want to make up for all the time I wasted being too scared to love you the way you deserve.â
Your hands come up to cover his, pressing them harder against your face.Â
âI want you to be mine and I want to be yours, in every way possible, [Y/N].â
And you really, really need to stop crying, but itâs impossible. They well up, like all those emotions youâve been mashing down for decades, ballooning into something too large for your body to handle.Â
âThose are happy tears⊠right?â he chuckles.Â
âYes,â you sob. God, heâs never going to let you live this down. âI love you. I love you so muchââ
âI love you too.â He kisses your forehead, cheeks, the tip of your nose. âI love you, I love you, I love you. I'm going to make sure you never doubt that again.â
You laugh, a watery bubbling sound.Â
You look up at the mistletoe hanging between you two. Itâs a small piece of plastic and ribbon, but somehow it represents years of longing and heartbreak and fear that just needed time to blossom into something ethereal.
âYou still remember the tradition?â Jungkook tucks a stand of hair behind your ear.Â
You couldnât forget even if you tried. âWhen youâre under the mistletoeâŠâ
âYou must kiss the person youâre with,â he finishes.Â
His thumbs linger over your cheekbones, gazing into your eyes. Theyâre still the same from when he was little. Wide-eyed, full of childlike wonder and innocence. His pupils are blown.Â
âCan I kiss you?âÂ
You stupidly smile. You nod just as he gets the last syllable out. Nodding so hard and so frantically itâs almost manic, tears streaming down your face, your hands coming up to grip the collar of his green sweaterâthat goddamn green sweater the color of mistletoe.
âYes,â you breathe, âYes, please, yesââ
He kisses you.Â
And oh.
Oh.Â
You hold your breath, counting the seconds in your head. Itâs longer than three seconds and two milliseconds.Â
Your knees buckle under the weight of his kiss, with his hands cradling your face gently. Your fingers twist tighter in his collar, pulling him closer, closer, never close enough.
The salt of both your tears mixes on your lips, can feel the way his breath stumbles against your mouth. One of his hands slides into your hair, angling your head just so, and you make a sound you didnât know you were capable of making. Youâre pliable in his arms.Â
His tongue outlines your bottom lip, and you grant him access immediately, needing to feel more of him, any part you can grasp to know this is real. Youâre both still cryingâyou can feel fresh tears sliding down your cheeksâbut youâre also smiling, laughing into the kiss like idiots because this is insane.
Jungkookâs tattooed hands slide down to your waist, pulling you close to him until thereâs not an inch to spare between your bodies. Your apartment, the mess of cups and plates scattered around, the snazzy Christmas decorations youâll throw away tomorrowâit all fades away until thereâs just this. Just him.
âI love you,â he murmurs against your mouth, and then heâs kissing you again before you can say it back. âLove you so much, Iâm a fucking loser, Iââ
âShut up,â you giggle. âShut up and kiss me.â
You donât know how long you stand there, kissing under the mistletoe like teenagers who just discovered what kissing is. It could be seconds or hoursâtime feels irrelevant when his mouth is on yours, when his hands are holding you.
At some point, you know itâs not enough. You want more.Â
Finally, you think to yourself.Â
Youâve never wanted someone this bad. Never craved someoneâs brain, heart, and soul like this.Â
Heâs possibly thinking the same thing as you, and if the way he holds you is any indication, youâre the luckiest girl in the world. His hands travel over your waist, until they reach your thighs. In one smooth motion, he picks you up, and your legs wrap around his waist instinctively.
Jungkook is stronger than you though, even though you know he goes to the gym everyday, even though youâve watched him rearrange the furniture in your apartment on a random Tuesday after work. But feeling him hold you up effortlessly while kissing⊠your panties might drop before you even reach the bedroom.Â
You kiss him as he tries to navigate with his eyes closed, stumbling slightly down the hallway, both of you giggling between kisses like drunk teenagers. He nearly crashes into the wall, overcorrecting and spinning you both around.
âSmooth operator, hm?â you tease.Â
âShut up,â he mumbles. âI swear to god you switched where your bedroom was.â And then heâs kissing you again, and you forget about his horrible navigation skills.Â
Miraculously, you make it to your bedroom. Lays you down on your bed, following you down until heâs hovering over you, weight balanced on his forearms on either side of your head. The lamp on your nightstand casts soft shadows across his features. He chews his lip anxiously.Â
âDo you, umââ He stops, tries again. âDo you wanna maybeââ
You canât help but giggle. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth when you see the way his face falls. âKoo. I know youâre not a virgin.â
âOh my god.â He drops his forehead to your neck with a groan, and his face is burning hot against your skin. âI know. I know Iâm not. But itâs you, itâs so different. Iâm nervous.â
Jungkook is experiencedâfar more than you, thatâs for certain. You were never bothered by the difference. You had lost your virginity solely as a means to an end, to just say you did the damn thing so you werenât a complete and total loser. But Jungkook has plenty of notches on his belt, and your heart melts at the thought of you being the one to dismantle him completely.Â
You slide your fingers into his hair, tugging until he lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are dark and vulnerable, full of love it makes you want to cry all over again.
âHey. Itâs just me, Koo.â
âWell, thatâs kinda the problem,â he gruffs, playing with the necklace around your neck. âIt is you. It matters a lot.â
âIt matters to me too,â you rush to agree, cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his scarlet cheeks. âWe donât have to do anything you donât want to do. We can justâwe can just lie here. We can talk. We canââ
He kisses you, cutting off your rambling. Slower, assured. âI want to. I really, really want to. I just⊠I want it to be good for you.â
Your fingers trace the constellation of moles on his face, and thereâs just so much of him you want to uncover, so much golden skin and muscle. âIt will be.â
This time, when his lips meet yours, he relaxes into it, earlier nervousness melting away. Your hands slide up under his sweater, feeling the bare skin, the sculpted abdomen youâve sparingly seen. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft strands there, and he makes a soundâhalf-sigh, half-groanâthat strikes straight through you. His hips shift slightly, pressing against yours, and now itâs your turn to gasp into his mouth.
âStill nervous?â you mutter.Â
âA little,â he says through a moan as you roll your hips to press against his growing length. âWhat if you think I-Iâm, fuck, bad in bed?â
âYou wonât be.â You kiss down his sharp jawline, down the vein that protrudes from the side of his neck.Â
âYou donât know that. I could be really bad at this.â
You laugh, tugging him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. âJungkook, youâre not going to be bad at sex.â
He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of gingerbread cookies that still lingers on you even after hours of burning them. âBut what if I am?â
âKoo. I love you. I wouldnât care even if your dick was 2 inches.â
He lifts his head from your neck. âOkay, donât push it.â
Jungkook kisses you, warm tongue swiping against your bottom lip. His calloused hands slide up your red sweater, feeling the black lace bra underneath. His breath stutters at the realization, fondling your breasts in the way heâs always dreamed of.Â
Messily, hungrily, your sweater comes off first, then his, a tangle of fabric and laughter as he fumbles with the back of your bra. Jungkook apologizes against your lips, but you donât care in the slightest, just want more and more and more. He flings your bra across your bedroom, greedily taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking the hardened nub. And youâre so wet, can feel it pooling in your panties, soaking through the fabric. Every roll of his hips, every flick of his tongue sends shocks of lightning through you.Â
âSo fucking pretty,â Jungkook groans, readjusting your body higher on the bed until your head reaches the pillow. He unclasps your legs from around his waist, making room for himself to wiggle down in between them.
You canât stop the familiar swell of nerves racing through your body, even as he kisses down the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, past your navel. His lips hover over the button of your jeans, delicately undoing. Taking his time as though not to miss a single moment.Â
You weirdly get the urge to cover yourself, to hide under the strength of his burning gaze. What if he compares me to all the other girls? you think. What if Iâm not as beautiful as Sana or Eunji or Hana?
And then Jungkook says, âYouâre so beautiful, baby. Most beautiful girl Iâve ever known.â
Tears threaten to appear again.Â
He tugs your jeans off, his hair tickling your inner thigh as he goes. His lips follow, pressing chaste kisses along your naked skin. The mattress dips as he adjusts himself, wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs your clothed, soaking cunt to his face. You gasp, your walls clenching around nothing. âRelax, baby,â Jungkook bites your inner thigh, soothing it with his tongue. âGonna take care of you.â
âPlease,â you beg, and you donât even know what youâre begging for, but when you meet his eyes you know exactly what. More of him, more of his mouth, his tongue, his lips.Â
He pushes your panties to the side, and without preamble, youâre spreading your legs further.
Immediately, Jungkookâs eyes go to what lies between them.Â
âSo wet, baby,â He lets his pointer finger gather your arousal. âYou always get this wet for your best friend?â
You gasp, eyes trained on his. His voice has gone husky, eyes hooded and dark. He presses into your sensitive nub, and you jolt forward, hands tightly gripping the sheets underneath. âAnswer me.â
âY-yes, Koo. Always wet for you, just for you.â
That seems to be enough for him. He leans forward, dragging your underwear down your legs until theyâre no longer his concern, and then his mouth is on you.Â
âFuck!â You practically scream, body lurching forward, humming violently underneath him. Itâs been a whileâmaybe more than a while, possibly yearsâsince youâve had someone willingly eat you out, and by the way Jungkook does so, he seems enthralled to get a chance to enjoy the taste of you. His tongue strokes through your folds, wet and wide, working its own rhythm that has you withering underneath his grasp. His hands press into your hip bones, stabilizing your movements. He buries his whole face in it, lets himself soak up every last bit of arousal youâve produced. Two minutes of this and youâll be a goner, but you donât want this to end, not now, not ever.Â
âTastes so sweet, baby,â Jungkook moans into your wetness, licking a long stripe from your hole up to your clit. âBeen hiding this from me, hm?â
âI-Itâs yours, Koo. Always has been,â You squeeze your eyes as tight as you can, stars blooming in your vision. He taps your thigh, and you know he wants you to look at him, but you can hardly breathe or think or speak.Â
He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and your fingers fly to his unkempt hair, tugging and pulling until youâre certain itâll come off his scalp. Without warning, he pushes one finger into you, testing you. He watches as you keen, profanities falling off your lips. Jungkookâs finger crooks into you at an angle you thought only you could reach, and youâre putty in his unrelenting hands. âFuckâoh my god, yes, right there Koo, oh, yesââ
âFeel good, baby?â He gathers his saliva, spitting onto your clit and letting it drip down to his fingers, a second digit entering you. âTalk to me.â
Heâs gentle about it, tentative, as though heâs trying to learn you, teach himself the new side of you heâs unlocked.Â
âM-more,â you keen. âFaster, please.â
And heâs so willing, so ready. Itâs so wet, unlike anything that happens when you touch yourself. His tongue and fingers fuck you through it, squelching sounds echoing against the thin walls of your bedroom, sweat slicking down the valley of your breasts. You feel your walls clench around him once, twice, and your legs tremble in his hold. You can feel it dripping down your inner thigh, onto your sheets, onto his chin.Â
âSo tight around my fingers,â he groans, and you watch as his other hand travels down to his belt buckle, furiously trying to undo it. âSo hard just thinking about beinâ inside you.â
âI-I want that,â you reply breathlessly. âI want you inside me.â
âFuck,â he grunts, working his nimble fingers quicker, tongue vacuum-sealed around your clit, milking you entirely. âI want to feel you cum for me. I want to taste it.â
You nod, bunching your bedsheets into little fists of agony. When you look up, you can see Jungkookâs hair spread across your lower stomach, tattooed biceps straining. His free hand strokes his cock, and a swarm of butterflies release in your stomach at the sight. Youâve made him so desperate that he has to touch himself. You have.Â
And the sight is just too much for you to handle. âAghhâKoo, fuck, Iâm gonnaâIâm gonna cum.â
He doesnât say anything, just lets his tongue continue at the same pressure, same speed, until youâre coming undone all over him. You feel it everywhere, in your chest, in your core, in your toes. You arch off your mattress, legs quivering and locking around his head. It feels like time is a myth, Jungkook fucking you through your orgasm until you almost collapse.Â
You tap him on the head with your foot, falling back onto your pillows tiredly.Â
Jungkook peers up at you, still the same wide-eyed expression on his face, except this time, your arousal is glistening on his face, scarlet lips swollen and wet. He presses a few kisses on your thighs, stomach, before dragging himself up on his biceps to hover you. He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, and you canât help but moan into his mouth. Itâs so dirty, so scandalous, sends a shock through your spine.Â
âI want you to fuck me,â you whisper between kisses.Â
His cheeks turn red.Â
âM-me too. I want to be inside you,â he stutters, kissing down your neck. âBut I might need a second.â
You furrow your brows, suddenly self-conscious. âWhy?âÂ
He kisses your jaw, avoiding eye contact. âBecauseIcamealready.â
âWhat, Koo?â
Jungkook sighs, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. âBecause I came already.â
Oh.Â
Your heart wonât be able to handle this much affection tonight. You just know it.Â
You giggle, unable to hide the smile on your lips.Â
âStop,â he groaned into your neck. âDonât laugh, Iâm humiliated.â
âNo, Iâm notââ you laugh, âIâm not laughing at you. Youâre so cute, Koo. I love you.â
He grins toothily. âI love you too.â
And then you laugh again, and he laughs with you, and it feels like your heart is blooming, petals unfurling in your chest.Â
You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him to you as close as humanly possible. You kiss him and try to make him understandâthrough the press of your lips, the desperate grip of your handsâjust how completely he owns every part of you.Â
You use your weight to roll him over, straddling his buff thighs, letting your soaked cunt linger over his growing length.Â
âHi,â he smiles big and wide, peering up at you like you hold the entire universe in your palms.
âHi,â you repeat, kissing his cheeks, forehead, jawline.Â
Behind you, you reach to grab his length in your hands, trace the veins that protrude. His mouth gapes open, watching as you realize⊠holy fuck.Â
Youâve always been respectful of Jungkookâs boundaries. Never once peeped on him or seen him in his boxers. The farthest you ever got was a pair of grey sweatpants, and even then, it didnât reveal much. There was no way to prepare yourself for this moment.
But as you stroke his cock languidly, you realise one thing for certain: that is not going to fucking fit inside you.
You donât even need to vocalize it, because heâs already saying, âWeâll work with what we can. But I think you can take it, baby.â
Gulping, you nod. You want to take it. Want to feel every inch inside of your gummy walls, want to hear him wither underneath you.Â
Heâs hard again too, you note. You could cry, knowing just how bad he wants this. Wants you.Â
You align his tip to your sopping hole, jaw slack as you gather the juices to hopefully make it easier. And then youâre sinking onto him, inch by inch, curses falling from his lips, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. âO-oh fuck, Koo.â
âKeep going, baby,â he moans, guiding you onto him until your clit meets his pubic bone. âJust like that, all the way.â
A sound rips free from the very core of you, both hands landing on his stomach to steady yourself. For a moment, you just sit there, trying to accommodate his length inside you. Feels so painfully good, stings just right.Â
âYou okay?â He reaches to brush a strand of wet hair from your face.Â
âYeah,â you exhale, rocking your hips gently, back and forth, figure-eights. You can feel him in your stomach, can see the bulge protruding from your body. His eyes lock onto it, bottom lip tucked behind his front teeth. âFeel so full, Koo. Itâs so deep.â
âFuck, baby.â His fingers dig deeper into your hips, directing your movements. A swell of confidence runs through you, and you brace yourself, lifting yourself off his cock to slam back down on it. He all but screams, thighs quaking beneath your weight.
âYouâre a fucking goddess,â he moans, head lolling back against the pillow. âI love you so much, my sweet girl, my best girl, fuck.â
âI love you too, Koo.â Your fingernails scrape down his chest, leaving red marks in your wake.Â
You can see his abdomen muscles rippling with effort as he tries not to come undone too fast, jaw clenched tightly. His tattoos are slick with sweat.Â
Your orgasm sneaks up onto you, but you donât want it to end, donât want to know the feeling of separation from him. Falling forward, you bury your face into his neck, and he wraps his arms around you, fucking up into you.Â
His cock hits just where you need him, and your moans bounce off the walls, your headboard creaking with each thrust he makes to meet your movements. âI-Iâm so close, Koo,â you moan.
âMe too, baby,â he says. His cock plunges greedily into your wetness, and you whimper. âI love you so so much, canât live without you.â
You canât help the tears that stream down your face. Itâs too muchânot just the sex, but that itâs sex with him. Jeon Jungkook, your best friend since birth, since before you knew anything else. You love him so much you donât know how your heart will contain all this. It might burst any second.Â
He feels the tears on his skin, and heâs slowing his thrusts, whispering, âAre you okay, baby? Did I go too fast? Want me toââ
âNo, no. I want you to keep going.â You look into his eyes, and his expression softens. âI justâI love you. I canât believe this is real.â
He kisses you, barely more than your mouths slotting together, and then his thrusts continue, more desperate and sloppy but still full of the same devotion. âI love you,â he murmurs into your mouth. âI-I know Iâve said it so many times tonight, but I love you so fucking much.â
Your warm, wet heat clenches around him. Little moans and whimpers escape you, teetering on the brink of another orgasm. âI know,â he gasps, and heâs crying now too, his whole body shaking. âI know, baby. Me too. Iâve got you.â
You stop moving completely, letting him take over, and the sounds are filthy, but the love that runs between you both is anything but. âMy baby. Mine, youâre mine,â His teeth sinks into your shoulder as he thrusts up into you, wetness dripping onto his cock and the sheets below. His hands cup your ass, slamming you up and down his girth.
âYours,â you cry, clutching him.Â
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his face is soaked with tears, eyes red and swollen and so full of love it physically hurts to witness. âIâm never letting you go,â he says, crying so hard he can barely get the words out.
âMe too,â you promise, âIâm not going anywhere. Iâm right here.â
âShit, Iâm gonna cum, [Y/N], I canâtââ
Your fingernails dig into his biceps, mouth ripping open to moan out his name along with i love you i love you jungkook please please, and you feel him release inside you, spurts of his cum painting your walls as you tighten around him. You milk him dry until he canât take it anymore, until you feel so full you think your DNA has been adjusted to match his.Â
You all but collapse onto him, staying like that with your hearts thrashing against your ribs, reaching for each other through flesh and bone.
You want to stay here. Right here, in this specific moment, where his arm is around you and his breathing is shallow and you feel like youâre at home.
Itâs a ridiculous thought. Childish, even.
Youâll have to get up soonâyour bladder is already making demands, and reality is waiting just outside this bed. But not yet. Youâre not ready yet.
Jungkook sighs into your hair. âI donât wanna move.â
âMe either.â
âDo you⊠do you want this with me?â His chest rumbles with the question.Â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI just⊠this meant something to you, right? The fact that we had sex?â
âOf course it did.â
You prop yourself onto your shoulders, brushing the hair out of his eyes. They twinkle and glow underneath your low light. He gulps before speaking, âI want us to be together. Or, at least try. I want us to take the risk because youâre worth every goddamn risk.â
Every birthday candle since you were a child was dedicated to him. Every shooting star, every 11:11 on the clock, every stray eyelash, every penny thrown into a fountain. You wished for thisâfor himâso many times you lost count. Wished for him to look at you the way heâs looking at you now, like you hung the moon and painted the stars.
You almost want to pinch yourself. But his hand is warm on your waist, heartbeat steady under your palm, and when you dig your nails slightly into your thigh, you donât wake up to your blaring alarm. This isnât a dream.
âI want that too. I want to wake up next to you and fight about whose turn it is to do the dishes and learn all your weird habits I donât know yet.â
â[Y/N],â He cups your face in his hands. âYou literally know all my weird habits. Even the fact that I collect Captain Underpants original copies."Â
âWell yeah but I want to learn the new ones,â you shrug.Â
He chuckles. âI canât wait.â
Jungkook kisses you again. When he pulls back, heâs smiling that bunny smile thatâs been your undoing since childhood. âYour party tonight was awesome, by the way.â
âIt was all you.â
He smiles. âWeâre really doing this.â
You know heâs not talking about Christmas anymore.Â
You laugh, resting your forehead against his. âHaving second thoughts already?â
âNot even a little.â He pauses, then his eyes go wide. âOh my god. Your Christmas gift!â
He shoots up, still naked, peppering your face with a hundred tiny kisses. Forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, eyelids, everywhere he can reach while you dissolve into giggles.
âKoo, whatââ
But heâs already scrambling off the bed, running to where his bag is discarded by your front door. You hear his feet padding against your floor as he runs back, jumping onto the bed with enough force to make you bounce. Heâs grinning so wide it must hurt, holding something behind his back.
âClose your eyes,â he demands.Â
âJungkookââ
âClose them,â he whines.
You do as he says, and you feel the bed shift as he settles in front of you, feel his warmth as he leans close.
âOkay,â he softly says. âOpen.â
Timidly, you open them.Â
Heâs holding a teddy bear. Your teddy bear. The one he kept in a box with your name on it.
Itâs exactly as you rememberâworn brown fur, one ear more floppy than the other, the tiny red bow around its neck that youâd tied when you were 7. He even kept it clean, maintained.
âOh my god,â you exhale. Tears form in your eyes until theyâre streaming down your face as you stare at this piece of your childhood, this tangible proof that heâs been carrying you with him all along.
His face falls. âOh crap, do you not like it? I thoughtâI mean, I kept it because I thought maybe one day I could give it back to you, but if itâs weird orââ
âNo, no.â Shaking your head frantically, you reach for the bear with trembling hands. âI love it. I fucking love it, Jungkook.â
His smile returns, likeâs 6 years old again and just kissed you for the first time under the mistletoe.
Jungkook nuzzles into your neck, and you both burrow under your comforter, teddy bear clutched between you. His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest, and youâve never felt safer. Never felt more loved.Â
Itâs quiet for what feels like eternity. His breath syncs with yours, fingers tracing illegible patterns on your hip.Â
âWhat was in that box in your closet, by the way?â you quietly wonder aloud as you stroke the bearâs fur.Â
He pauses. Goes completely still.
âYou saw that?â
âIt has my name on it.â
Heâs quiet for a long moment, and then he presses a kiss to your shoulder.
âEverything I love about you. Thatâs whatâs in there.âÂ
You hug him (and the bear) tighter to you.Â
After about an hour or so of intertwined limbs and lazy kisses, his breathing begins to slow, face buried in your hair. Sleep always comes easy when heâs around, and your eyes hang heavily.Â
âCan we watch the Grinch tomorrow?â The words come out slurred with exhaustion.
In the darkness, you smile, tangling your fingers with his over your stomach.Â
Youâd curled up with that green, bitter creature every year, finding solace in his hatred of the holiday because at least someone understood. At least someone else knew what it felt like to watch everyone around you celebrate something that only brought you pain. Youâd watch him scheme and plot and try desperately to steal Christmas away, and youâd think yes, exactly, take it all. Because if you couldn't have the Christmas you wanted, the one where Jungkook kissed you under the mistletoe and meant it, then what was the point of any of it?Â
The Grinch was safe. The Grinch was yours. The Grinch never asked you to be anything other than bitter and broken and sick of watching other people get their happy endings.
But that girl who needed the Grinch, sheâs gone. She got her happy ending, her Christmas miracle.Â
Plus, the Grinch is overrated.Â
âActually,â you whisper, âIâm thinking we watch Frosty the Snowman.â
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đ·Youâre disgustingly terrified of this moment, not of losing him, but because heâs never even been yours to lose.
I know, I know - so weird that Iâm reading a Christmas fic in May. But honestly? This fic resurrected my dormant obsession with holiday romance fics so badly that it made me want to dig up all my old Christmas fic rec lists just to add this one (or start a new one in the middle of the year lol).
Because THIS is exactly the kind of Christmas fic I love: warm, Hallmark-ish coziness except underneath all of it is this awful, aching pining that makes your chest hurt. And making the mistletoe tradition itself into this symbol of exclusion and yearning??? Evil. Genuinely evil in the best way. Christmas is their thing, so watching it become a quiet source of pain over the years hurt SO good. The story really understands that the holidays can feel magical and devastating when youâre in love with someone whoâs basically been your person your entire life, but was never actually yours in the way you wanted them to be. And the writing was so good at pulling all of those emotions out of me too (I was already sniffling during the supermarket scene đ).
And I also loved how natural the emotional progression felt because I wouldâve hated it if they suddenly just blurted out their feelings after years of repression đ but the transitions between Hana, Jisoo, and Namjoonâs conversations made everything feel so gradual and earned.
And honestly, thank you for making the smut feel emotionally necessary instead of just inserting it to hit a checkpoint in the fic. I usually struggle when smut feels disconnected from the emotional arc, but here it still carried that same clumsy tenderness that defines them as a pair. It wasnât just âokay now they finally have sexâ but it felt like an extension of all the yearning, hesitation, familiarity, and realization theyâd been carrying around for yearsso yes, the crying-during-sex felt so right and fitting. Even in those scenes, they still felt completely like them. (Again, I just really loved how this was written.)
I can already tell this is going to be one of those couples I remember for years. Thank you, I really love this =).
Itâs so good. I cried happy tears sad tears heart boner wow ily ty

















