Jeon Jeongguk—To Know a Person (04)
You’ve been calling, texting, emailing for years. But is that really enough to know a person? You’re about to find out. —fluff and angst
01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07 :: 08 :: 09 :: 10 :: 11 :: epilogue
2,085 words
photo cred
Jinyoung’s bed was soft but freezing. His sheets were a dark, royal blue and his comforter a soft grey. It was obvious that no one had been in this apartment for at least a couple of weeks because everything was cold. It made you feel cold, too. You slipped between the sheets and curled into yourself, hoping to warm quickly.
It was after a minute that you heard the heater click on and you silently thanked Mark for thinking of it. You let yourself relax into the mattress, the warmth soothing your tense muscles and your exhausted mind. Inhaling the soft scent of cologne and ‘boy,’ your eyes slipped closed and you fell asleep…
You were on a stage. Running down the long walkway with your arms spread, jumping and spinning. Beside you, Jungkook was whooping and cheering. The sounds were echoing through the giant concert hall in Seoul, the empty seats applauding your happiness silently.
A pair of arms wrapped around you and pulled. You fell into a bed, in a small room warmed by sunlight through a window. White sheets, sky blue walls, Jungkook’s lips on your neck, kissing and kissing and kissing. You turned and met his eyes, big and brown and innocent.
“Do you want me to stop?”
You blinked.
“Do you want me to stop?”
It was dark, he was above you, hovering on the weight of his hands. You were naked, sweating, uncovered by sheets.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Again you met his eyes and they were wide and afraid. You could see yourself in them. Your hair and your face, so afraid in the face of his fear. You could see yourself so clearly and you realized that you were now looking in a mirror. Jungkook was standing behind you, and you met his eyes again, this time in the mirror. He turned slowly away and you felt a knife plunge into your heart but—no knife.
You turned and sprinted after him, running and running and running. But he just kept walking—walking towards bright flashes of light, loud chants of his name, reporters shouting:
“Over here!” “Look this way!” “No, look here!”
“Jungkook who is that girl?”
“What girl?” You reached him as he said the words, your hand resting on his shoulder lightly. He flinched at the contact, but when he turned around he was wearing a mask. It was the Jeongguk you recognized.
“Jeongguk?” You hugged him tightly. But when you looked back up their was no face at all. You jolted—
And woke up screaming. The pale, dark-haired man standing above you started screaming too. You jolted again, falling out of bed, still screaming.
Jinyoung fell against a wall, trying to hold himself up. He clutched his heart and tried to breathe slowly. Mark had warned him that there was a girl sleeping in his room, and he had only come in to put his bag down, but then you woke up and started screaming.
“What’s going on!” Mark burst into the room holding a spatula. His eyes darted to Jinyoung, collapsed and breathless, and then searched the room for you. Jinyoung panted and pointed to the other side of the bed. Mark walked around it and glanced at you, curled into a ball on the floor. “Oh my god,” he said in English, “What are you doing?”
Mark looked back to Jinyoung and he shook his head, explaining in breathless huffs of Korean, “She woke up and started screaming. Scared the crap out of me.”
Mark sighed and kneeled by your figure. You flinched when he touched you and he backed up slightly. Mark put the spatula on Jinyoung’s bed, and Jinyoung scooped it up quickly, unwilling to let the grease on the cooking utensil stain his bedspread.
“Hey, it’s just Jinyoung,” Mark said in English, “He was just dropping his stuff off in the room. He came back early, so I didn’t know.”
You rolled over, relieved by the explanation, but somehow more exhausted than you had been originally. You lay on your back, breathing slowly, covering your eyes with your arm. After a moment, you whispered softly, “I’m sorry.” You sat up and tucked your hair away from your eyes, looking at Jinyoung you repeated the sentiment in Korean, “Mianhaeyo.” Jinyoung waved at you and smiled warmly.
“So,” Mark chuckled, “Sleep well?”
You stepped out of Jinyoung’s room five minutes later—hair brushed, clothes fresh, and embarrassment painted on your features. You bowed to Jinyoung politely when you stepped into the kitchen, speaking softly in Korean, “Sorry again.”
“It’s okay,” he said in blunt English, struggling through the next part, “Mark...said...you are alone.”
You deflated at the sentence said aloud, stated plainly and hanging in the air. You collapsed on a bar stool and Mark turned away from the stove to glare at his groupmate. He muttered something in Korean and Jinyoung turned downcast.
You buried your face in your arms and fought back tears. You are alone. You know he hadn’t meant it in the way you were now internalizing it. But you felt the truth of the words so intensely that you felt the tears fall down your cheeks and hit the countertop quietly.
In the kitchen, Jinyoung had shoved his hands into his pockets, embarrassed. The mood in the room had shifted as if there was a new, heavy humidity in the air from your tears. You covered your eyes with your hand and bit your lip, trying to stop the crying now that it had started. You tried to remind yourself that you were in the presence of two, famous, strangers.
But the words echoed in your head—You are alone. You are alone. You are alone.
Mark finished at the stove, dumped the eggs on a plate and walked over. He slid the plate across the countertop towards you and rubbed a soothing hand in circles on your back. “Eat,” he said softly, sympathy laced into his tone, “You’ll feel better.” He paused for a moment and then added, “Then shower. You stink.”
You chuckled and shook your head, looking up, teary-eyed but smiling. “Jerk,” you muttered, pulling the plate of eggs and fork towards you. Now that these were here, steaming in front of you, topped with cheese, you realized how weak you felt from lack of food. You’d been so nervous on the flight that you hadn’t eaten well. It had been almost thirty-two hours without food. You scarfed them down while Jinyoung and Mark, leaning against the counter across from you, had a quiet discussion in Korean.
You spoke over the eggs in your mouth and butted in, “I’m fine with the couch.” They both looked over at you in surprise. You smiled sheepishly and added, in Korean, “I’ve been studying for a while.”
They raised their eyebrows and nodded, relinquishing the sofa for your habitation. You finished your eggs and put the plate in the sink. You turned to the pair, “Shower?” Mark nodded and showed you the way, guiding you through the maze-like hallways until he stopped at a door, pushed it open and revealed a bathroom.
“You can use whatever’s in there,” he said, waving a hand at the plastic curtain, “I’ll leave you to it.”
At the same time, close to down the street and around the corner, Jungkook was staring at his phone. He sat on the couch with his legs propped on the coffee table, his phone between his feet. Behind him, Jimin and Seokjin were whispering, “I think it might explode,” Jimin whispered.
Seokjin chuckled and moved forward to pat Jungkook’s shoulder, “Staring at it won’t make her text you.”
Jungkook shrugged but didn’t move his eyes away. Jimin and Seokjin shared a look before Yoongi, peeking his head out of his bedroom, whispered, “Psst.” Jimin and Jin looked over and Yoongi was waving them into his room. Slowly they followed him, Jungkook barely noticing their retreat.
Inside of Yoongi’s room, Jungkook’s six hyungs had convened. Taehyung was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, Namjoon was sitting in the desk chair, Hoseok was on the floor. Jimin moved to sit next to Tae on the bed, Yoongi and Seokjin still standing.
“What’s going on?” Jimin asked, looking at each member in turn.
Yoongi sighed, “I don’t think we can just leave him alone.”
Jimin’s eyebrows raised and Namjoon’s lips set into a concrete frown, his eyes downcast. Jin’s eyes went to each member, “Do we all have plans?”
Hoseok nodded, “We figured he’d be here with her. That they’d want to be alone. But now…”
“Now she’s not here,” Yoongi finished.
“And we can’t just let him sit around the apartment by himself for two weeks,” Namjoon sighed.
“Maybe,” Taehyung interrupted, his eyes sad but hopeful, “Maybe she’ll change her mind?”
All five pairs of eyes turned on him, only pessimism amongst them. But Namjoon nodded and sighed, “Maybe. But we can’t take the risk that he’ll be holed up alone for two weeks.”
“What about his parents?” Hoseok wondered. Seokjin shook his head.
“He felt bad for not going home for this break—he bought them tickets for a cruise. They left yesterday.”
“Well, can’t he just come home with one of us?” Jimin asked. Jimin was from Busan, too, Jungkook would feel at home with him. It wasn’t much, but it would help.
“I already asked him,” Namjoon said, “He doesn’t want to risk not being in the city, in case she wants to meet him.”
There was a collective sigh amongst the group, a cloud descending on them. Seokjin nodded, “Someone has to stay.” The statement was definitive and final but introduced a new conflict. Jungkook was family, of course, and they loved him. But there was an internal battle with each man—what about their parents? They’d been training for almost a year, uninterrupted, this was their only break for a while...they had to see their parents right?
But Jungkook was family, too. The guilt weighed heavily on their shoulders.
In the end, after a very tense silence and awkward glances, it was Yoongi. He never had the best relationship with his parents, and part of him was attracted to the idea of staying in Seoul and working on music without any pressure for a couple of weeks. “I’ll stay.”
Everyone looked at him, relief and guilt mixing in their expression. They felt better knowing someone would be here to make sure Jungkook was okay, but there was a momentary lapse when they felt bad for not stepping up themselves.
“Good,” Namjoon said, standing a patting Yoongi’s shoulder, “Thank you.”
Back at Mark’s, you felt a million times better now that you’d showered. You hadn’t realized the grime that had settled onto your skin and hair from the plane ride and the...surprise. In clean clothes and a fresh face, you settled onto the couch next to Mark and Jinyoung, who were playing a video game.
You were moving your phone back and forth in your hands, before finally unlocking the screen and opening your text messages. Jungkook hadn’t sent anything after you had promised to text him. And you wanted to. This was the longest you’d gone without talking in almost five years. It had been almost twelve hours. It didn’t seem very long when you calculated it like that, but it felt like a century.
“Gonna text him?” Mark said.
“Yes?”
Mark and Jinyoung shared a look. Jinyoung, apprehensive to speak at all, said after a pause (Mark beating him at the game they were playing, “No time like present?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, looking at him with wide eyes, “But what do I say?” But just as you said the words a notification sounded on your phone.
Jeongguk— I know you said you’d text me but
You smiled at the message. This was the JK you were familiar with—impulsive and impatient and upfront. But as you looked at the message you saw the picture for his contact. That wasn’t him. As he kept texting a new message, you went to your contacts and deleted it, a blank grey face now in its place.
Jeongguk— Just meet up with me so i can explain I need to tell you everything in person Please
You stared at the words and then back at the little grey face. Mark and Jinyoung were reading over your shoulder. Jinyoung looked up from the words and to Mark, who nodded and said, “What do you have to lose?”
author’s note— they're gonna meet! sorry this is kinda late btw, busy busy
for more of my works check out my m.list ❤︎