Jungkook feels like shit for multiple reasons:

1) Physically, he feels like the human equivalent of roadkill. His body aches, and he has chills constantly. (Though, ache in his head aside, he feels a sense of clarity he hasn't in months.)

2) Memories of last night haunt him in the early hours of morning. He remembers doing what he did: refusing to give up the coke, pressing Iris up against him intimately, whispering manipulative words to her before having a meltdown in the bathroom over his lost coke. He remembers it all too well. But what he can't recall for the life of him is making those decisions. That's the scary thing about addiction—choices that he would need to make consciously are out of his rational control. They're made solely by the visceral need he feels for the drug. The thought makes Jungkook sick to his stomach.

3) According to Google, a random cocaine withdrawal symptom is an increased appetite. To say his appetite just increased would be an understatement. Jungkook is starving. He wishes he actually had food in his fridge, because if he did, he would probably inhale it all in one go and still feel hungry. His personal trainer is gonna kick his ass when he puts on a little weight and softens his hard-earned washboard abs he's so proud of.

On that note, Jungkook rolls out of bed with a groan. He drags his feet as he groggily makes his way down the hall, but slows a bit once he sees the door to the guest room is slightly open. Right. Iris stayed over last night. Jungkook's first instinct is to peek his head in. He never really lets himself look at her for as long as he wants to in her waking hours, but, if she's asleep...she'll never know, right?

So, he cautiously pokes his head around the doorframe, but lets out a heavy breath. He feels like the air has been knocked out of him, thanks to the sucker punch of disappointment and realization delivered to his stomach. The bed is empty. Jungkook knows it has been slept in, due to how crisply and cleanly the bed is made. He himself is not exactly as precise when making a bed—what's the point of making it when you're just gonna sleep in it and mess it all up?—so he knows this is Iris's doing.

Still, she may have been here, but now, she's not. She left. Jungkook doesn't know why he feels disappointed. Well—he does. But he's refusing to admit it at this point. The more accurate statement would be that he doesn't know why he thought she would stay at all. After how shitty and out of line he was last night, he wouldn't be surprised if she up and quit. Sighing, Jungkook slaps the wall gently in defeat and continues his trudge to the kitchen.

"God, I'm such a creep." Jungkook mumbles to himself as he throws open the fridge. In hindsight, hoping to see someone sleeping for the sake of staring at them is mildly disturbing, so he's glad Iris wasn't actually there. If he were smarter, he wouldn't have done it at all, but when it comes to Iris, Jungkook tends to act incredibly stupid, so he supposes that doesn't matter. He diverts his attention to surveying the mostly emptiness of his unfortunate refrigerator. A couple cans of beer, a half-full bottle of soju, a jar of pickles from when Namjoon insisted on making him drink pickle juice in some home remedy for a sore throat when he felt under the weather before a performance, and a bottle of Sriracha.

Wrinkling his nose, Jungkook shuts the fridge unceremoniously. He grabs his black sunglasses off the counter and slides them onto his face. He doesn't care that he hasn't even brushed his teeth yet, he's hungry to a point he didn't even know it was humanly possible. He slips on his slides, and peeks through the curtains like he always does to check for paparazzi—

"Fuuuuuuuck." He groans, seeing the black vans indiscreetly parked outside. After he released The Song That Shall Not Be Named, the paparazzi hadn't been able to get enough of him, or rather, his potential to be their next scandal. They were always lurking around him somewhere, waiting for him to fuck up. He'd be an idiot to walk out in the state he's in, looking like a wreck and feeling worse than one. They'd eat that up and spit it out on every tabloid on the stands and celebrity gossip site on the internet. He's not worried about it damaging his image too much, since Hoseok works wonders in the PR department. What he is worried about is the ass-whooping Hoseok will deliver as soon as he's fixed Jungkook's mess.

Kicking off his shoes, he makes his way back over to his fridge shamefully. He throws the door open and retrieves the jar of pickles. Jungkook likes pickles. They're not ideal for breakfast, but he doesn't exactly have much of a choice. So, he unscrews the lid and begins chowing down on the sour vegetables.

He's inwardly deliberating if this is what rock bottom looks like on his fifth pickle when the door to his apartment opens. Jungkook freezes, pickle halfway to his open mouth. If his mouth wasn't already open, his jaw would have dropped.

"Iris?" He asks in surprise. Iris looks over at him when she hears the sound of his voice. She's clutching a plastic bag of something, and is wearing different clothes—she must have run home to change and come back. Jungkook tries not to get too happy about that last part. She came back. Iris doesn't look quite as pleasantly surprised to see him, rather, confusion is clear.

"What the hell are you doing?" She deadpans, eyebrow raised.

"Eating." He says blankly. Iris rolls her eyes. Her curls bounce as she walks over to him hesitantly.

"Tell me you're not on a psychotic break that includes eating pickles for breakfast and wearing your sunglasses on indoors." Jungkook's eyes widen. He forgot about the sunglasses on his face, and now he looks weirder than he did before. Attempting to compensate for his odd behavior, Jungkook takes the glasses off with his free hand, clears his throat, and awkwardly holds the pickle out to her.

"You want one?" He asks, and Iris blinks at the pickle in mild shock before scoffing and shaking her head. She pushes his extended hand back towards him in distaste.

"No, thanks." She says, before sliding the bag across the counter towards him. "That's why I went out and got us breakfast. Can I ask why you only have pickles?" Pickles long forgotten, Jungkook is already reaching into the bag enthusiastically.

"Because Joon hyung thought my sore throat could be cured by pickle juice and turmeric—waffles!" He derails his train of thought with a gasp. Iris has to fight the smile off of her lips at the excited expression on his face and the way he nearly drops the styrofoam container whilst fumbling for a fork.

"Pickle juice and turmeric, huh?" Iris asks, watching as Jungkook takes his first humongous bite. He practically moans in pleasure at the welcome taste of waffles as he chews. "That sounds awful." Jungkook internally breathes a sigh of relief. It doesn't seem like Iris is going to address last night, and he's grateful for it. He's more ashamed than he ever has been.

"It was. Wouldn't recommend." He states honestly. He almost keeps eating, but stops. "Oh, I'm being so rude. I'm a terrible host. Here." He says, handing her a fork of her own from the drawer. "Sorry. I don't have people over very often. As you can tell from my bizarre lack of food and terrible manners." He jokes lamely, and Iris chuckles a bit.

"Really, you don't have people over here much?" She asks, and Jungkook can tell she doesn't quite believe him.

"Nope. Just the hyungs sometimes." He says, and Iris hums.

"That's weird. Because the security guard downstairs did not seem too surprised to see a girl coming to your place that late at night." She says truthfully, and Jungkook nearly chokes on his waffles. Iris knows she should pat his back or get him some water or something, but she can't resist laughing. "Are you a man for booty calls, Jungkook?" She asks, just to torture him a little more.

"Um." Jungkook chokes out once he catches his breath. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, and Iris has to force herself not to gawk at the way the toned muscles in his arms flex. Of course he's a man for booty calls, what person wouldn't come running when someone who looks like Jungkook asks? "I mean, I guess so? I don't know, that's a weird question." He says, laughing uncomfortably and taking another bite.

"Not really. It's not weird to like sex, Jungkook." Iris informs him. Jungkook proceeds to nearly choke once more. Iris knows that if she were a better person, she wouldn't make Jungkook squirm so much, but he makes it so easy. Besides, the longer she can hide the fact that he could have the same exact effect on her if he tried, the better.

"Jesus, can you not say things like that when I'm eating?" He asks, glaring at her, but there's humor in his eyes. His eyes. They looked so empty and dull last night, but they seem to sparkle when he looks at her now.

"Sorry, I forgot you're such a spaz." She grins, and looks down at her own waffles. Jungkook takes the opportunity of Iris cutting her food to look at her.

In the light that makes it through the chiffon curtains, her dark brown curls are laced with subtle caramel undertones. She wears a mustard yellow colored crop top that Jungkook thinks would look awful on anyone else but looks stunning against her dark skin. The oversized denim jacked she has thrown over it makes her look snuggly and comfy—oh. She's looking at him now, Jungkook realizes. He has been staring for too long. An alarm blares in his mind—don't blush, don't blush, don't blush—

"Damn, you're still so red." Iris points out, and Jungkook sighs in defeat. "You seriously can't talk about sex without blushing like a thirteen year old boy?" She teases, and Jungkook decides that's enough. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, leaning back against the fridge.

"I'll have you know, I can talk about sex. I'm a grown ass man, I can talk about sex." He insists. That infuriating smirk makes it's way onto Iris's kissable lips once more, and Jungkook feels both annoyance and lust flare in his stomach.

"All right, Jungkook. Whatever you say." She says, and Jungkook clenches his jaw, struggling to find a way to win this little conversation they've gotten into. "You're still blushing."

"Well, it's a valid reaction! What would you do if I asked you if you liked to, I don't know, make dick appointments?" He asks, cocking his eyebrow at her, and Iris doesn't even flinch.

"I'd tell you that I do." She says, looking him dead in the eye. Jungkook decides then and there that Iris is more of a flirt than he originally thought, because the look in her eyes seems like a challenge. "No choking on my food or blushing involved." She says triumphantly, taking another bite, and Jungkook swears she's trying to turn him on. He didn't know eating waffles seductively was possible, but he should've known Iris would find a way. She delicately bites into it, licks the maple syrup off of her bottom lip. Good God—

"You do?" Jungkook blurts, unable to come up with anything intelligent. Iris nods, shrugging casually.

"Yep. We're both adults, Jungkook. It's not weird to like to have sex. You like booty calls, I like dick appointments. Completely normal." Iris reminds him, and then Jungkook is speaking before the words can pass through his filter.

"Gotcha. Maybe we should schedule one sometime." He says. This catches Iris off guard. She glances up from her waffles at him with slightly wide eyes. He can tell she's scrambling for an appropriate reaction, even considers his proposal, before settling on laughing at him. It's too late, though. Jungkook saw her think about it, and now he's got the upper hand.

"You're funny, Jeon." In order to avoid eye contact, she gets up and walks over to the trash, tossing the empty styrofoam box in before walking over to the sink. Jungkook watches her all the while. She keeps her back to him, deeming that if she doesn't look at him, she won't let herself agree with what he wants—no matter how much she wants it, too. She should have known that her teasing and flirting would backfire, but it got the best of her.

Iris has been washing her fork for entirely too long in order to give herself time to collect her thoughts when she feels two warm hands rest on her hips. She stops, feels like she can't breathe, feels like she's burning up. She can feel Jungkook's breath on the back of her neck, can feel his palms pressing against her gently but firmly, with conviction and confidence. Iris feels his weight shift behind her, and then feels chills run up and down her spine as his hot breath turns to her ear.

"You feel it too, don't you?" He asks, voice soft, but deep enough to make her knees weak. "You want me, too, right?" He asks. Before she can formulate a coherent response, he's pressing a slow, gentle kiss to the place behind her ear. He's always wondered what the smooth, dark skin of Iris's neck would feel like beneath his lips. The reality doesn't disappoint. Iris unwillingly loses her grip on the fork and jumps when it clatters in the sink. She feels heat rushing to her cheeks as Jungkook chuckles, feeling it rumble in his chest against her back. "I'll take that as a yes."

He uses his grip on her hips to turn her towards him. For the first time in a moment, Iris looks up at him. Jungkook gently brushes the slight of his hand over her cheek, and Iris can't find it in her to stop him, despite how much she knows she'll regret this. She's seen Jungkook at his worst now. That should be enough to keep her away from him, but right when she thinks she's in control of herself, Jungkook swoops in and proves her wrong. She's looking into his pretty eyes, the same way she was last night, but rather than the vacancy of withdrawal within them, she sees raw vitality. A vibrancy and life that takes all her better judgment and drowns it out, that makes the blood in Iris's veins feel electric.

"You're the worst." She breathes out softly, but she only half means it. Jungkook only smiles. It's triumphant, he knows he's gotten what he wants despite what she says. With a strong hand on the nape of her neck, Jungkook leans down and connects their lips. Iris breathes out softly against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He doesn't waste time swiping his tongue over her bottom lip, savoring the sweet taste of syrup and the quiet whimper that escapes her. Such little contact would hardly have either one of them this turned on already with anyone else, but considering they've felt the sexual tension between them since the day they met, they figure it's warranted.

Jungkook slides his hands down Iris's back to her thick thighs and hoists her up onto the counter. Iris hates the way she likes this, but likes it too much to stop. Jungkook is all warmth and muscle, but the intention of his touch isn't harsh. He's gentle but firm, dominant but pliant at the same time, and that combination is dangerously attractive. His lips are soft and his teeth and tongue know exactly where to be to draw unholy sounds from her throat.

Unholy is a good word to describe Jungkook. Iris has never been religious, but she wonders if this is what it feels like to sin—to do something you know you shouldn't but enjoy it far too much. Jungkook is the antithesis of what Iris needs, but she wants him regardless.

All of a sudden, a faint sound infiltrates their lust filled haze and Jungkook pulls back, brows furrowed as he rests his head against her own. The sound persists:

Okay, it's Childish Gambino, homegirl drop it like the NASDAQ
Move white girls like there's coke up my asscrack
Move black girls cause, man, fuck it, I'll do either
I love pussy, I love bitches, dude, I should be runnin' PETA—

The recognition registers, and Jungkook quickly jumps back and begins running down the hall. He ungracefully stubs his toe on the couch, shouting at the dazed Iris over his shoulder, "Hoseok's calling!"

Alone, breathless and sitting on the counter, Iris laughs a bit at the song choice for Hoseok's ringtone, but the momentary bliss fades fast. The reality of what just happened hits her—she's done exactly what she dreaded doing. She's one step closer to letting Jungkook in. She let herself have him, immediately regrets it, but knows she won't be able to resist him again. She knows because that's what always happens, the natural order of things.

She's apprehensive. He makes her trust him. She lets her guard down for a split second—and then he's suddenly too close too fast too soon—and then he breaks her heart in to little tiny pieces and leaves. He'll leave her for another woman, a job, for alcohol, for drugs—but he'll always, always leave. That's the way things go when Iris lets herself want someone to love.

She can hear Jungkook talking to Hoseok in the other room, his voice muffled. She knows she can't be here when he comes back out. She can't let him taint her clear mind with a dizzy haze, can't let him convince her to give in to the temptation, to succumb to the sin. So, Iris leaves.

When Jungkook comes back, and she's gone, he doesn't know how to react. Instead of assuming the worse, he distracts himself by thinking of the taste of her. Maple syrup.

Maple syrup is fitting for Iris. She's sweet beneath all her sarcastic humor. The same way maple syrup is sticky, so is Iris—Jungkook can never quite rinse her from his thoughts. The residue of her is always alive in his subconscious. So, although she's gone, the ghost of her taste and touch stays with Jungkook for the rest of the day and into the night.

They both are up until the early hours of the next morning, both coping with their emotions the only way they know how—writing songs.

happy saturday!!! enjoy :)