“flora. just-- stop it. please.”
trouble is a dog that barks at his heels.
he can’t say with much confidence that he was resilient towards the noise. if anything, he was used to its consistency in his life-- to the point that he himself became troubled by the appearance of trouble, and the lack of it as well.
it was the strangest experience, jungkook notes with some hesitancy, to see something of himself within another person. ominous in the way that he almost feels omniscient, he senses her intentions in the way that she moves and looks around and speaks to him softly. almost like a mother babying her child. he then considers that maybe she doesn’t remind him of himself, but instead, of his mother. they look nothing alike, yet they seem so similar that jungkook feels, for a moment, an intense longing for the past. nostalgia, they call it. but jungkook thinks it’s something much more.
“you’re gonna hurt yourself like this. stop worrying about me so much. it hurts me too, okay ? a-and I-- I just-- please. everything is fine.”
with the infectious, craven-like attitude that he displays so often, jungkook retreats and resides within the deepest part of his soul. he hasn’t the heart to go around breaking other hearts-- especially when he knows how it feels.
he moves away from her. from her touch, her eyes, her heart, her soul, her everything. he moves away and sits on a chair furthest from her and turns to watch the sky fall into a dusty shade of red and dark blue. he listens to the sound of bubbling water coming from the kitchen, the sound of the wind, and the sound of his beating heart.
