You don't know what's happened to you.

You're suddenly burning up.

It comes abruptly, like a flash flood up your insides, or a bubbling witch's cauldron of heat.

Jungkook is awake.

Somehow, as you climb to your feet, you manage to knock Hoseok to the side so that he falls onto the bed.

He gapes at you while you throw yourself toward the y'all.

Somehow, as you march out the door, Yoongi ends up splattered against the wall to get out of your way.

He blinks at the aggression in your steps.

You storm down the hallway, footfalls heavy, arms swinging by your sides.

Like you're on a rampage.

Just like Jungkook stormed to your door all that time ago, to question why you'd been released from the White Room.

But this time, you're the angry bull.

Namjoon is by the door to Jungkook's room, his broken arm caught up in a sling and cast. He sees your ardent stride and moves out of the way.

You burst into Jungkook's room.

Beside the bed is Jin, leaned over a quiet figure whose upper chest is wrapped in bandages. Jin's hands are working on rewrapping another bandage on the person's left forearm.

You remember feeling that wound, and seeing the stark red of its blood on your fingertips.

Jin glances up when you stomp in, turning to the side to reveal the mummy-wrapped figure as the person you've been seeking.

Jungkook's laying there, tired and sallow, an IV in his arm. Dull black eyes look up at you from under dark, unwashed hair. His lips aren't as dark as normal; in fact, he's washed out, like the color has been erased from his skin so he's now a blank piece of paper. His tattoos are intense and overwhelming against his beaten-down persona.

But he's awake.

He's alive.

He tries to smile.

You start to yell at him.

"Stupid!" you shriek. Unbidden by your mind, your hand raises, finger pointing in condemnation at the man laying helpless before you. "You are such an idiot. How could you go and get shot?! Honestly, you are so..."

"Hey!" Jin puts himself in between you and stands with his feet braced, widening his shoulders to become a venerable fortress. "Quit yelling! How will he get better when you're screaming loud enough to burst his eardrums?"

You growl in frustration and curl your fingers into claws. You're shaking with the words you want to say.

"Y/N," Jungkook starts, but you slash a hand through the air to cut him off.

He can't talk right now - he has to listen.

You have so much to tell him.

All the fear that raged inside you while you stared at his crumpled figure, all the heartbreak that crushed you into fragments of sorrow when you thought he was dead.

He's has to listen, and feel what you felt, and know what's running underneath all the angry words, what's forcing them up and out of you with such vigor.

You love him.

But the words just won't come out that way.

However, even tough your attempts at communicating are pathetic at best, Jungkook still seems to get it.

His eyes lighten, a gentle spark shining in the back, and the corners of his lips begin to curl up.

His head falls back to the pillow, and he laughs a little.

"Hyung," he says to Jin. "It's okay, could you give us a minute?"

Jin tsks, scowling at you so that his cross tattoo sharpens, and points a long finger as he leaves. "He better be alive when I get back in here."

"No promises," you grumble in return.

Jin sulks our the door, ushering with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok, who had all followed behind you to watch the show.

The bedroom door clicks closed after them.

The second that the silence descends upon you, you whip around and charge toward your intended victim.

Jungkook doesn't even flinch when you throw yourself against the side of the bed, slapping the empty pillow space beside his head with an open palm.

"You could've died," you hiss into his face. "You almost did die. You can't just run into the middle of a shootout like that! What's wrong with you?"

Unintimidated by your enraged speech, a loopy smile dances across his lips.

"Hi, princess," he says in a voice echoing with quiet laughter.

"Don't call me that, you imbecile!" you screech. "Freaking stupid. I hate your dumb face."

Jungkook giggles, a slight blush rising along the crest of his pale cheeks.

Why is he so cheerful?

It pisses you off even more.

Pursing your lips, you cross your arms and furrow your brows at in his directing, hoping to communicate the depth of your surface irritation.

If anything, Jungkook's smile curves wider. He's taken his lip rings out, so that two tiny holes widen when his mouth stretches out.

Wordless, he waves his hand at you, motioning you to scoot around the bed toward the empty side.

"Jerk," you mutter while you start to move.

You drag your feet behind you the whole time. When you arrive at the empty side of the bed, you climb on, as grumpily as you can manage without jostling the injured man.

"Stop pouting," Jungkook chides. "I'm high on blue Gatorade. Come cuddle with me."

"You're so dead," you mumble. Gradually, your speech is becoming less and less ferocious. He's mellowing you out and you can't even do anything to stop it. "I'm glad you survived. Now I can kill you."

"Hey, now," he soothes. His right arm comes around you when you curl into him, tucking you into his side like the tantrum-throwing child you are. "Let's not start, okay? I distinctly remember you running out to shield me when I told you not to. I should be killing you."

"Shush." You pinch his lips closed between your fingertips.

Then you rest your head on the pillow, bussing against his arm like a needy cat.

This is what you needed. Each moment you spend in his presence sands down the serrated edges of unrest that were rising up, sharper and more hurtful the longer you were away from him.

He smooths a hand down your back, curves it up over the crest of your hip, then removes it so he can lift your chin.

Jungkook's gaze slices over the ring of violently bruised skin around your throat.

He sighs. "What am I going to do with you?"

A pause, then...

"Love me." The words slip out before you realize what they are, and their impact in the quiet air turns your cheeks blood red. You bury your face in his arm to hide the reaction.

Jungkook is silent for just a few seconds. You can feel the expansion of his chest as he breathes. In, out. In, out. "Well, I already do that."

Your heart is a steady beat in your chest, not faster than normal, but each beat pounds into your chest cavity like a jackhammer. You can feel the hits though your entire being.

"Good," you harrumph, as if the answer was merely satisfactory instead of a secret elation. All the fury is gone now, dissolved into softness by his words.

Peeking up from your hiding place, you can see the light blush that's dusted the skin around his cross tattoo pink.

He's so cute, and precious and sweet, and you love him so much that it fills you up like helium inside a balloon.

Jungkook huffs. "Aren't you gonna say it back?"

"No," you reply offhandedly. "I hate you."

Your stale attempt at humor causes Jungkook to stiffen, the mood in the air shifting from light to a dense cloud of fear. He catches the side of your face gently within his palm, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Please," he breathes, "-please don't joke about that right now. I need to know...I mean after everything, you could be serious."

Immediately, you take his face between your hands. "I love you, Jungkook," you say quickly. "Even after all that, it hasn't changed how I feel about you. And it won't."

His palms move to cover your fingers, gripping your hands at the sides of his face until your circulation is cut off. The strength in that hold contrasts absurdly with the quiet hesitance o  his voice when he speaks. "You won't? Promise?"

His tone is that of a small, frightened child.

His grip screams of desperation.

His lips tremble when you press yours to them.

A soft kiss to his mouth, and one to the corner of his lip, his cheek, his forehead.

His eyes flutter closed, the shadows jagging down to dance across the edges of his cross tattoo.

"Pinky promise," you whisper, hooking your littlest finger around his.

He breathes in, and breathes out, and presses your hand to his cheek. "I want to tell you everything. All of it. But I'm scared."

You've never seen him like this before - so utterly vulnerable that it looks as if a brisk wind will tear him apart at the seams.

"Do you know what I meant?" he asks. "When I told you that I gave it all up."

The question startles you into remembering that day in the safe house, when he asked that obscure question that baffled you into distraction. It seems like a lifetime ago, even though it was only a little while.

Memories of the steam of the bathroom, the heat of his mouth, and the warmth of his eyes as he confessed that indecipherable yet impactful phrase create a cloud-like mist in your brain.

You have to shake it off as he continues to speak.

"I was so ready," Jungkook laments. "-to just let it all go, and forget about all the things I've done. I just wanted to be with you and not have to think about all the guilt, all the heaviness.  When you first showed up, I knew that I wanted you, but I've just done so much. There was no way I could deserve..." He turns his face into your hand, closing his eyes, and grimaces. "And then the second that I finally decided that- maybe- I could let myself be happy, everything came crashing back down on me."

He must be talking about the things you've been avoiding.

Your grandfather.

Taehyung's family.

He's somehow caught up in their deaths, but he's afraid to tell you. Afraid you'll leave him.

Before the two of you can go further, you have to know it all.

"Tell me," you urge. "Don't you remember? We talked about this. I got to know you for who you are now, Jungkook. Not who you were."

You can see in his eyes, as the blackness shifts, that your assurance hasn't calmed him down. However, a glimmer of determination gleams as well.

"I'm going to tell you," he says. "It's going to hurt."

"I know," you reply simply. "We can't just avoid it, though. It has to come out some time."

He nods.

Again, breathes in, and then out.

"It was raining so much that night," he whispers. "So much, that I couldn't tell the difference between the gun shots and the thunder."

[A/N]
Severely unedited.

...to be continued.

Obviously, Blood Ink is drawing to a close. I'm sorry my updates have been so few and far in between lately, but I've had so much to do. I got to go to a Friendsgiving the other night and it literally felt like the first time I've breathed in weeks. It also gave me enough energy to FINALLY finish this chapter.

Thanks for sticking with me anyhow❤️ I hope y'all are having a wonderful fall (or whatever season it is where you are) and I hope you enjoyed.

❤️PB