"I want all of you..."

Nothing clear in my head helping me to realize what just happened, I stare at him. I am speechless and so out of breath without even moving. "I want you all for myself..." he crushes my body with his and hides his face in my neck to kiss his way down its length and shivers it with his warm breath. "I wanna know what it feels like to be inside you...I know it must feel good..."

"Jungkook..." I touch his shoulder to attempt to calm him down, some nervousness grasping my lungs, but he pushes forward and kisses my neck with his tongue, before facing me again. "I'll take care of you. If it hurts, I'll stop or slow down, I promise..." he worsens the panic I am in as I have never felt this way before and draws a line of kisses up to my ear, breathing more heavily against my hot skin. "I won't go deep or rough for your first time...Hm...?" he locks lips with mine and takes me aback for the second time.

My inside burning up, my heart suddenly pounding, and my body shaking, I cannot stop him. I am so shocked by this action that I do not know how to react other than by doing the same, but as soon as I part my lips to kiss him back, he forces his tongue inside my mouth, and I clench my thighs.

Even when drunk, he is so good at kissing, but I need to stop him. This is too late now that he took my first kiss, but it does not matter anymore, this is not his fault.

"No..." I push him away as kindly as I can, but he groans to make it evident he does not agree. "Please..." he whispers against my lips. "Don't you wanna have your first time with me?" he glides his hand up to my throat once again. "I promise I'll be gentle..."

"No, Jungkook. You're drunk," I refuse, wishing he was conscious of his actions. "I've drunk? Yeah, but just a little."

"Stop," I ask him. "I'm not comfortable."

He does not insist but stares deep into my eyes. "I make you uncomfortable?"

"I'm just not liking this. You're drunk, so I'm uncomfortable right now...yeah," I hate to say those words but feel obligated, and he remains silent for a moment, making me feel like I should not have worded my emotions that way.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he takes his hand off of my skin, his eyes turning shiny. "I thought you...You're not gonna hate me, right? I promise I'll make it up...I didn't know."

"It's okay, don't worry. I don't hate you," I reassure him, noticing this is affecting him way too severely because of the state he is in. "You're sure? You're not lying to me?"

"I'm not lying to you, Jungkook," my heart sinks at the sight of his unusual reaction. That is as if his sensitive and fearful side was out whenever he is drunk, a side which he hides on a daily basis.

He holds me tight and tucks his head in the crook of my neck. "I don't ever want you to leave me...it scares me..."

"I won't leave," I put my arms around his neck, knowing he needs some comfort, some care, and love, and he stays like this, breathing against my skin.

— Next Day —

Saturday, May 22nd, 2021.

12:30 pm.

I take a part of the meal out of the oven and place it on the counter as fast as I can to not burn myself, the sound of Jungkook leaving his bedroom catching most of my attention. I turn around to grab his dish and serve him a good amount of food, and I bring it to the table where I left a glass of water, and a pill he will probably need.

"You were here last night, weren't you?" he approaches me, wearing a black shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. "Look what I cooked," I avoid his question and direct the attention to his dish, but he does not care much about it. He briefly glances at it and stares at me.

After last night's kiss, I cannot feel the same way around him. I cannot stop thinking about it since it happened.

"Do you have a headache?" I keep talking and show some worry, and he nods. "Hm. I do," he slides his hands in his pockets and peeks at his food again. "There's a pill here," I lean over and grab it, and I hand it to him with his glass of water.

"Thank you," he swallows what will alleviate the pain, and he places the glass back on the table, so I move to the kitchen to serve myself, but he follows me instead of sitting down to dig in.

"Did I bother again last night?" he surprises me with some physical contact, sticking his body to the back of mine and guarding it against the counter. "No. You didn't."

"I remember waking up in the middle of the night and feeling you against me, so no need to lie," he does not move away as I can feel my heart pound inside me. "I'm not lying. You didn't bother. You just called me, and I had to come, otherwise, you'd have slept at your doorstep."

"What do you mean?" he takes his hand away from the counter and frees some space for me to breathe, and I turn around to face him. "You couldn't find your keys, which I actually found in your jacket this morning."

"What time was it?" he speaks in a low and calm voice, not seeming upset, neither on the verge of being. "Around one a.m, I think? I'm not sure, but I was awake anyway."

"And how did you even get here? Not on foot, I hope," he believes I will walk all alone in the dark and empty streets, and I open my eyes wide. "Hell no. I called an Uber again."

"It's still not that safe. Some of them are fucking creeps," he says some sad truth I wish I could contradict. "But it's the best option."

"It's not. The best option is to stay at your house and ignore me, and you know I'm right," he states, and I show a smile. "You're very wrong."

A heavy sigh escapes his nose, and against expectations, he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.

"I'm sorry for being such a fucking asshole," he tells in my ear, still unaware of how I feel about him. "You're not. Stop talking about yourself that way," I hug him back, last night's memories affecting the impact this connection has on me.

He slides one hand up my back to tangle his fingers in my hair and presses his soft lips against my cheekbone. "I don't deserve you. You're too good," he pulls away and takes hold of my dish to go back to the table, and I walk behind.

He puts the food right in front of his and sits down, so I do the same.

"Did it go well with Matthew last night?" he mentions him, and I confirm. "Yeah. It was fun."

"Fun?" he stuffs his mouth with some bread. "Weren't you supposed to work?"

"We did, but I find it fun to work with him," I smile and explain what might sound odd to him. "Hm, that's good then. As long as he doesn't distract you."

"He doesn't, he jokes a lot, but he's serious too," I defend him so that he does not have to worry, and he nods. "Fine."

"Did you have a good time with your colleagues yesterday?" I finally ask him, hoping for that evening to have been enjoyable. "Yeah, the bimbo wasn't there, so it was pretty cool. I swear I wasn't supposed to drink and wanted to hold back just for you, but most of the guys were drinking, and they got me a shot of vodka, so...I drank the first one, but as soon as I drink just a bit of alcohol, I just cannot stop, and last night, I couldn't."

"You shouldn't let them pressure you," I do not show any disappointment but sadness, and I notice his eyes go down. "I know, but I don't want to use that excuse when I know I was tempted. I felt like shit after the first short because I told you I wouldn't, but I thought like a kid and told myself that you were with that guy, so it wouldn't matter."

"What do you mean 'it wouldn't matter'?" I frown at him, and he looks back into my eyes. "You'd be focused on your work and him, so you wouldn't know about what I did."

"So you'd do it behind my back, hm?" I try my best not to frame my sentences in a wrong way which could hurt or offend him. "That's not what I said...If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even try to hold back from smoking, drinking, or avoiding my pills."

"You're doing really good, and even if you can't resist sometimes, I'm still proud of you," I give him my sincere opinion that I hope will encourage him to keep fighting against his addictions. "And for your information, I thought about you the whole time last night, so it does matter. It always does when it's about you."

He stares deep into my eyes without letting a sound out, but his lips slightly curve up, and he glances down at his food as if he did not want to let me see the reaction I sparked, and I uncontrollably smile.

"What? You don't believe me?" I force him to tell me something, and he shakes his head. "I do. I know you're honest when you say those things."

"Am I that obvious?" I chuckle and put my fork down to drink some flavored water. "To me, you are because I learnt how your body or eyes react when you lie or tell the truth."

This is probably insignificant to him, but it makes me feel so good to hear him say that. I feel so special with him.

"Well, let's see if you're right then," I swallow some more water before bringing my glass down, and he locks eyes with me. "Ask me something, then after I answered, tell me if I'm honest or not."

"Fine," he plays along and clears his throat. "Do you like Matt as more than a friend?" he stares into mine, scanning every little detail about my body language for sure. "I don't."

He smiles but takes a few seconds to tell whether I was honest or not, and he peeks down at my lips. "I think you're honest."

"I am," I confirm, not hiding anything, but he goes for a second try. "Let me ask another one," he crosses his arms on the table without breaking our intense eye contact, making me feel like a serious question is about to leave his chest. "Do you like it when...I...No wait," he does not finish it but changes his mind, but I ask for the end. "When you what?"

"Nothing," he disregards it. "Did something make you uncomfortable last night?" he unsettles me with a matter I thought I could avoid as much as possible. "Why do you ask me that?"

"Just answer the question," he intensifies the nervousness inside of me, and I gulp down. "No. Nothing did."

"No? Are you sure?" he lowers his chin as to ask me to affirm my statement, and I nod. For a short moment full of tension, he keeps his brown eyes fixed on mine then brings them down to my mouth. "You're lying, and I really hate when you do."

"I'm not lying," I claim, not taking my words back. "Yes, you are, y/n," he insists as if he knew, and I cannot remain calm anymore. "There's been a camera in my room since Wednesday because I need to monitor what I do during my sleep, so I saw and heard what happened last night," he reveals something I would never have expected, and no matter what this put me in, I defend myself. "Nothing made me uncomfortable, I just tried to find the best way to stop you."

"It still doesn't change the fact that you tried to hide it from me," he points out, and once again, I explain myself. "I didn't try. I planned on telling you about it later, but I was scared."

"Scared? Why?" he frowns, not understanding why I would be. "Because...I didn't want you to know. I knew you'd be upset or try to use this as a perfect example to explain why you want me not to come when you call me. I don't want to hear that again."

"I'm not upset," he clarifies, despite what I feel and can perceive in his eyes. "But I can't believe that you still don't understand how much it fucking—"

"I don't want to talk about it now. I don't want us to fight again," I cut him off out of apprehension, feeling emotionally too sensitive for this. "We're not fighting, and we won't. I just want you to truly understand I'm terrified of who I am when I'm drunk. I don't want you around me when I am for that exact reason. Even when I was in a relationship and that I'd get drunk, I'd never do it with her around because I've always been scared, and even more now that you're here. Do you get that?"

"I do," I lean back on my chair but direct my eyes to the table to hide my teary eyes. "Then listen to me, please. And I'm not blaming you or scolding you right now, I'm the one in the wrong, and I apologize for what happened, and how I made you feel, but if you keep doing that and refuse to listen, one day, something worse will happen, and I'll never be able to forgive myself."

"But I'd rather deal with that than knowing something wrong happened to you because I wasn't there for you," I lose control of my emotions and cry in front of him. "You don't, y/n. Don't say that type of shit. You don't have to be there for me. I'm not a kid anymore. I don't care what happens to me as long as you're safe—"

"But I do, and you don't understand that either," I wipe my tears away from my face. "I do understand that, but you're too blinded by what you feel to even realize the consequences this could have, and no matter how much I repeat myself over and over again, you still wanna risk us losing each other in one of the worst ways ever because of the fucking piece of shit I am."

"You're not that," I correct his horrible words I can never stand to hear. "Stop crying, y/n," he ignores what I said. "Why? You think I can control it?" I snivel and glance up at him but discern some excessive shine in his eyes. "Because I fucking hate it when you do—" his voice becomes unsteady right when he pronounces the last words, and a sharp sigh runs out of his mouth, and he leaves the table and walks up to the front door.

"You always tell me to stay close to you, to hold you because nothing else helps you, but yet, when you're sober, you tell me the opposite and think it's gonna be easy to ignore you?" I do not hold it within me anymore, but instead of talking to me, he walks out of the house.

"For fuck's sake," I mumble through my teeth but stay where I am, and I try to calm down and stop the tears.

30 minutes later...

'JUNGKOOK'S P.O.V'

After a walk outside, I go back home and open the door, hoping for y/n to have left and gone back to her house.

I take my shoes off and peek at the living room, only to notice she is still here, lying on the sofa and seeming asleep. I walk up to the kitchen counter to leave the food and drinks I bought, then make my way to her as quietly as I can. A livestream playing on the TV catches my attention, and I grab the remote to turn the volume down and look back at her.

She is holding one of the cushions against her stomach as usual.

A harmless and innocent person like her does not deserve to go through what I cause to the ones I love. She deserves so much better, and I am aware since the beginning, but yet, I still cannot drift apart from her or put an end to our friendship. I love to have her near.

I sit down in front of her on the small spot there is left, and I stare at her, feeling guilty and disgusting for what I have done and said, and for the way I always end up hurting her.

If only she could understand how much I care for her, how much I fear to let my emotions show, and how much I fear to let her see how weak she is able to make me.

A deep inhalation fills her lungs up with oxygen, and she wakes up, my presence being the cause of it for sure, no matter how silent I was.