Silence has never been a friend to you. 

It's why your life is so cluttered, you think; why your apartment is full to the brim with trinkets and things to look at. White walls do nothing but let your brain sit in deafening nothingness.

Jungkook's apartment facilitates silence to a degree that makes you severely uncomfortable. The walls are white, and the art is sparse. The colour is usually provided by you, or the food you're cooking together, or the shows you watch over a glass of wine. Sometimes, it's UNO cards, and other times, it's take-out boxes after a particularly brutal night at the dive bar you used to frequent together.

In times of Jungkook's absence, colour was found in the form of Facetime calls.

But now, you sit in silence; the colours and his calls muted.

It's a strange feeling, to be surrounded by empty echoes. Every now and again, goosebumps trickle over your skin just to let you know that yes, this is real life. 

Yes, this is reality. Yes, the man who Jungkook is proving himself to be is not the man you thought he was. Yes, he's deliberately avoiding your chat thread. Yes, this is a new normal, and yes, you should get used to it.

There were times when being in his home was the only thing that would give you comfort after a long day at work, but now you're desperate to be back in your own space. All the time you spent missing his place seems ill-inspired. Why would you ever miss a place that makes you feel so hauntingly uncomfortable?

Your favourite game to play during these lonely nights is charades. Or rather, 'guess the mood'. 

You sit with a face of thunder, look directly into the still-unplugged doggy cam, and dare it to magically turn on. You like to think Jungkook checks his app, even if he doesn't check your chat thread, and you also like to think he hopes it will be turned on.

If it was, would he be able to guess the mood you're conveying? Would he even care to play along?

These days, you're not so sure.

And bizarrely, you find yourself angry with this. Not with him, as such, but the promise of what you thought he was being ripped from you. He's proven himself to be just as shallow and selfish as his former lovers always claim. It's why you knew better than to get involved with him.

That, amongst a plethora of other, more mundane factors. His love for minimalism, for starters. His lack of willingness to 'waste' money on silly things just for the joy of childishness. His rigid approach to life; the law and order he abides and expects everyone else to follow, too.

He'd stifle you. Would dull your glow.

Or at least that's what Jungkook tells himself as he sits in his empty hotel room, nursing a lukewarm beer that has done nothing but focus him in on the one thing he was trying to forget about.

Realistically, you've always shared that opinion: to date one another would be a disaster. It's why he never tried. It was a mutually agreed upon hurricane waiting to happen.

But Jungkook got swept up in the winds, and it feels like he's addicted to the rush now. Craves the adventure of what it could be like to experience you again.

It's a selfish thought. Self-serving. Arrogant, even. To be swept up in you is to assume that you'd even let him in again.

These days, it feels like he's a storm chaser that's too damn scared to follow his tracker. Has all the equipment to fling himself right into the eye of the storm, and yet he just can't bring himself to do it.

He's not scared of much, but he is scared of losing you.

Funnily enough, it feels as if he's managing to do that regardless of his best intentions.

He thought space woud be good; as if running from the thunder would drown it out entirely. Figured that maybe it was overexposure, like light bleeding into a photograph that was ruining it. That with a little time, and a little distance, he'd be able to look at you and see you as you are—just a friend.

But when he pictures you, Jungkook's brain is a technicolour haze. It's like an old movie. Rare.

To think of you is to see a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and ivy twisting around the facade. If he followed the vines around the building, he'd find a wildflower garden and swingset with enough seats for three. Maybe a slide. A bench beneath a pergola.

And then he'd see you, laughing with Bam in the midst of a game of fetch. He wouldn't even notice the burned out annexe affixed to the side of the house, for the restoration would be so grand that he'd have no need to ever use it again.

His days in New York roll into one blurred mess. It's like he's got motion sickness, and the only respite comes in the form of you. Nights in his hotel bleed into meetings in Mitch's office, which melt into dinner with clients, and before he knows it, he's four days down without hearing even a peep from you. Has had to delete Instagram from his phone because he's started checking to see if you've followed anyone new—not because he cares about who you follow, but because he just cares if you've been active.

He hasn't deleted the doggy cam app, though. In fact, it's why he's snuck away to the bathroom while he's supposed to be out schmoozing. Just to check that the feed is still dead.

It is.

He knows it is.

But he still wants to see for himself.

Chin to his chest, hands on either side of a sink basin, Jungkook tries to shake the thought of you from his head. Looks himself over in the mirror. Notices the familiar flush of alcohol on his cheeks, but decides it's just the lack of aircon in the bathroom that's to blame.

It's late, and he's been drinking since dinner. Was celebrating a deal with clients and got talked into heading to a rooftop bar in a neighbourhood he doesn't know.

New York has a skyline that people dream about, but it's never really entranced Jungkook like it should do, least of all when he's constantly thinking about you.

Regardless, it's February, and it's fuckin' freezing in New York City. Would much rather be crammed into a booth at the dive bar he frequents with you, instead.

Pulling his phone from his blazer pocket, he quickly swipes to unlock it, and is greeted with the empty feed from his apartment. The box where he should see his living room is empty nothingness. The line is dead.

Of course, Jungkook knows that the doggy cam app shouldn't be taking up all of his screen time, but he just can't seem to help himself.

"C'mon, then. Open up. What's playing on your mind?" Mitch casually asks Jungkook when he meets him by the bar a few minutes later. People are his business. They're the heart and soul of what he does, so reading them is second nature—and if Jungkook's face is anything, it's readable. Those big brown eyes hide nothing.

He tries, though. Shakes his head. Smiles. Says, "Ah, just jet lag."

Jungkook's fully adjusted to the time. Wakes up five minutes before his alarm in the mornings. Has gleefully told Mitch this factoid already. Idiot.

"We both know that's not it," Mitch smiles, offering over Jungkook a freshly ordered whisky. Turning to rest his elbows on the bar, Mitch looks out toward the babble of the crowd. Knows it's about time he called it a night. Knows his wife waits up even when she pretends she doesn't. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Laughing, Jungkook mirrors Mitch's position. See, people are his business, too. The tricks of the trade are at home inside his bones. S'why Mitch likes him so much. He sees a lot of himself in Jungkook.

"Just missing home," Jungkook decides to admit. He's not sure why. It's just he can't speak to you, so it's nice to speak to someone.

"Your girlfriend?" Mitch clarifies, 'cause Jungkook still hasn't rectified that little white lie.

He nods. Thinks it's forgivable if he doesn't verbally confirm it. Adds, "And my dog, too. I always miss him when I'm away."

"Ah, it's normal," Mitch assures him, sipping his whisky. Swallows it down with ease. "Dogs become our family—we had little fur babies for years before we were ready for kids. Funnily enough, it was seeing her with the dogs that confirmed she was the woman I wanted to have kids with."

There's a fondness to his tone. An honesty. It almost stops Jungkook in his tracks, because he knows he's had thoughts of you he shouldn't have. Not the explicit ones, nor the lewd ones, but rather the ones of you in that stupid white shirt, hair messily claw-clipped, a little kid propped up on your hip, and Bam affectionately standing guard beside you both.

He couldn't tell you if the kid was a boy or girl, nor could he judge how old it is, or any remarkable feature—but he could tell you exactly how he imagines you saying, "Look, baby! Daddy's home! Oh, we missed you, love."

It makes him feel ill.

The cruellest ability we have as humans is that of being able to dream. How foolish he is to indulge in it, knowing that they never come true.

"Bam's mine," Jungkook corrects Mitch. "Not ours. She just looks after him whenever I'm away."

This quick straightening of the facts sparks Mitch's curiosity. "You don't see yourselves as a family unit?"

"No, it's not that," Jungkook panics at the idea of his tall tale unravelling before his very eyes. "She's... Well, she's home. She's everything. I just don't know if she's thinking about the future like I am."

Of all the attachment styles his therapist has ever tried to assign to him, anxious has not been one of them.

But he also hasn't been for an appointment since he started thinking about you in ways he shouldn't have. Got scared about what his therapist might say. Is self-sabotaging himself in the most foolish of ways.

"That's the beauty of it all," Mitch grins. "You just have to trust your gut. You love her, right?"

Unlike you, Jungkook believes that love is finite. He doesn't believe that it's a choice. You've debated this with him countless times. Have gone blue in the face trying to express your unlimited potential to love every single person in that shitty dive bar you adore so much.

He believes he has allotted amounts. Sees his heart as if it's a cartoon. Sections it out like a peace sign. The top left corner is for his family. Bottom left for Bam. Bottom right for his friends. The top right is reserved for the love of his life.

And so he could say yes, he loves you, and he wouldn't be lying because you'd fall into the bottom right category. You're his friend. You're a good friend. Best friend, even, and—

"Yeah," Jungkook accepts. "Love her like nothing else."

Fuck.

You've got that top-right space, just like you could have the right-hand side of his bed if you wanted it.

But your capacity for love is infinite, or so you say. Jungkook thinks it means nothing to you.

Quite conversely, it means everything. To love infinitely is scary and overwhelming, and it leaves you behaving just as badly as he is.

"Well, then, what are you still doing in New York?" Mitch asks with genuine confusion. "You know our team, now—most of them dial in from home for the meetings! You don't have to be here. We appreciate it and are happy to have you with us, but there's more to life than the office."

"I know, but it's—"

Mitch shakes his head. "No excuses. Get your ass outta here."

"But—"

Putting his whisky glass down, Mitch turns to Jungkook and holds his shoulders. "Go. Takes, what? A day to get home? You'll make it home in time for Valentine's, if you fly before midday."

Something about Mitch just always makes the impossible seem attainable. It's probably why he's so good at what he does for a living, 'cause it even has Jungkook thinking that it's a good idea.

But he is also a little too intoxicated for his own good and homesick beyond belief.

Or maybe not homesick.

Maybe he just does really miss you.

It's not like it isn't warranted. He's been missing you for a while, now.

He misses getting coffee. Misses walking Bam with you. Missing doing life with you.

And it's mutual.

You miss running your crazy ideas by him and watching his stern face soften as he opens up to your suggestion.

Part of you thinks maybe you should just offer up a new crazy suggestion to ease the tension between you two. Something like: let's go on a trip, or maybe, why don't we just kiss again—

Nope.

This is the third time in an hour you've had to shut your brain down. It's the middle of the day in Seoul, half the world away from Jungkook, and even that feels too close.

If men are from Mars, you'd really like Jungkook to go and take a trip back to where he belongs. At least that way, he'd have an excuse for not calling you anymore.

Yes, fine, it takes two to tango—but you're looking after Bam! He should care enough about his dog at least to call you.

"Oi," Lea calls over from her desk. "You're doing the face again."

"No, I'm not!"

"You were," Jiwon grimaces as if she really does feel terrible for you.

Of course she does, though. The face is one of pure despair. The Jungkook face is what they're calling it. Reckon they know whenever you're thinking about him because of it—which is why Lea tried to snap you out of it.

"He'll be home in a few days," Lea reminds you. "Just get over the rest of this week, and he'll be back to deal with your bullshit in person."

"Deal with MY bullshit?!" You exclaim. "Excuse me, but he's the one being an ass!"

"You're both being asses," she assures you with a cheeky grin to let you know she's only messing with you. "Now, if you're gonna be all mopey, you may as well tell us what's bothering you."

"Nothing," you huff, folding your arms and pouting as you sink into terrible posture. "It's just that he's a prick!"

"Here we go," Jiwon grins.

"I mean, what kind of a twat does that?! I have been so good to him. So good. Gone above and beyond—and this is how he chooses to treat me?!" You scoff, shaking your head, making the same arguments as you had done the last time they asked. Talking doesn't help the situation, apparently. "Like yeah, I get kissing a friend is awkward, but we should be able to laugh about it."

"Maybe it's not a laughing matter," Jiwon antagonises in good humour.

"Maybe he's taken it very seriously," Lea pipes up. "Maybe he's in lo—"

"LEA!"

"What?" She giggles as you shriek. "I'm just saying!"

"Well, don't," you strop. "It's not funny."

And it's precisely why you find yourself ranting to Bam the next evening after Jungkook failed to pick up yet another call during his walk. Sitting up on the sofa, Bam rests his head on his paws, eyes following you as you pace the room.

Occasionally, his eyebrows tweak as if he understands what you're saying. You like to think that he agrees.

Especially when you say, "Your dad is a prick, Bammie. Absolute toss pot. No manners, no grace, no decorum. Likes to pretend he's some big shot, but really, he'd be nothing if I wasn't helping him every step of the way."

This isn't true, and you damn well know it—but you also know that working together helped push you both to new heights. You're hurting. Feel foolish. He's dismantled the dream team, so you're overinflating your own importance for no reason other than childish point-scoring.

On the counter, the sunflowers Jungkook sent you still stand prettily in their vase. You haven't said thank you for them yet. Know that you've been petty; that he tried making some kind of peace and you ignored it entirely.

Still, being the victim feels better than admitting your own faults, so you continue with your pity parade.

"I just don't understand why I'm being punished for his actions. It's not fair! I'd never do that to him," you continue to rant. "Men like him are exactly why dating is so hard in the generation. Nobody knows what they want and everyone rushes into things because they fear missing out! He's the worst for that, you know, Bammie? Eats his pies right out of the oven and then gets upset when his tongue gets burned. Well, you know what? I'm not a pie! He can't devour—"

The crashing slam of the front door opening and closing pulls your focus from your monologue and stops you in your tracks entirely.

Jungkook stands, uncharacteristically unsure of himself, in the entryway of his apartment.

The look on his face is unreadable. One you've not been greeted with for a while. Not since that split second of madness you've both lived to regret.

His tie is loose, top button undone. His suitcases are still in his trunk, not even his briefcase in his hands. Hair unkempt, there's a dishevelled nature to his stormy eyes. His lips press together, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he tries to think of something to say.

You both know he should be in New York.

You also have no idea how much of your one-woman show he just heard. Know that you sounded suitably insane.

Him being here, now, is mortifying. 

"Kook, I—"

"I can't get any fuckin' work done," he interrupts you, 'cause he just can't help himself. Hearing you speak is too much. Looking at you is bad enough. Smelling your perfume. Seeing the way you're wearing his shirt as a nightdress might just send him into a coma, actually. It skirts just above the freckle on your thigh, far too big and yet perfect, he thinks.

He definitely never gave you permission to wear it.

But he also never gave you permission to steal his heart, either, and you did that regardless with his own damn dog as your accomplice.

"You should be in New York," is all you can muster in response.

"And you shouldn't be in my fuckin' head all the time, yet there you are," he helplessly shrugs. Shakes his head. Laughs, but it sounds more like a scoff. Irritation, almost, just with the fondest brown eyes known to man. God, you've missed him. "Always fuckin' there."

He can't keep doing this. Can't keep running home to you, but it's growing increasingly hard with each realisation that you are his home.

He lives in his annexe now, hoping you'll crack the locks and sneak back in.

But you haven't, and so it seems as if he's the one tearing the door off its hinges.

Bam sniffs around Jungkook, unfamiliar with the scent of the dry cleaner Jungkook was using in New York. Jungkook's barely even greeted him, which is so insanely out of the norm that you almost think you're imagining things.

You must be.

Because the Jungkook you know wouldn't ditch work like this. The Jungkook you know wouldn't say such outlandish things. The Jungkook you know wouldn't look at you like this, eyes wide and pained with desperation.

Except he left Jeju early to get home, too. Has said countless things he shouldn't have. Looked at you just like this after he kissed you in the office, too.

But this time, he isn't walking away.

No, this time, he's walking towards you. Shoes off by the door, Bam sniffing the unfamiliar sidewalk scent on the soles of his brogues. There's no interruption. No prying eyes. Nothing to second guess, other than his own damn head.

You watch him with an unwavering gaze, and he approaches you. There's intent to his movements. A certainty that it's you he's seeking out. It's not like when you were in the office and were just... there.

No, Jungkook means this. Has given it a considerable amount of thought. Has wasted months, in fact, thinking about it. Entire evenings have been lost to the ideation of what life could be like to be with you. Weeks spent yearning. Lamenting. Regretting.

And now that you're finally within his grasp, Jungkook hesitates. Asks, "You're not seeing him, are you?"

Though it's posed as a question, it may as well be a statement that he's willing into the world. He needs it to be true. Needs you to be single. Available. Free to choose, in the hopes you'll choose him.

No clarification is needed—not just because you know he's talking about Mingyu, but because no one's even been able to steal a sliver of your attention for weeks. Months, even. Just like Jungkook, you haven't been able to really think about anything other than him. You're both as bad as one another, and just as stubborn, too. A match made in hell—but you already know this. Neither of you seem to care, anymore.

You shake your head, eyes trained on him as he takes another step closer. Just a couple more, and he'll be within touching distance.

"No, Kook," you softly confirm, taking one of those steps for him. He's done the hard work. He's here. The least you could do is offer a little respite. "There's no one."

A small, white lie.

There is one person.

You're just looking at him, that's all.

"I left early," he states the obvious, as if he's only just realising what he's done. He still has a week left in the States, according to his schedule.

On the wall-mounted clock, the time ticks over to 00:00. February 14th.

"Yeah," you nod. Let your brows furrow. Tilt your head. Smile. Reach out to gently push against his arm. Jungkook wants to cry. "Why on earth are you home, huh?"

The way he shrugs is pitiful. Defeated. Honest. "'Cause I fucked up."

Your lips part as you try to make heads and tails of what could have happened. The last you heard, work was going amazingly well. Mitch couldn't seem to adore him more.

"What happened?" You frown, careful to not place the blame on him. If things went so badly that he's home, then it must—

"You."

"But I sent all the work over?" You quickly reply, bewildered how on earth his return could be your fault. "I did everything that was asked of me, and then some. What do you mean—"

"No," Jungkook laughs now, and it seems to settle the uncomfortable feeling simmering in your stomach. He reaches out. Pulls you closer. Wraps his arms around your shoulders and says, "No, God, no. Not like that."

Though you push him away, your fists ball against the fabric of his shirt. You keep him close. He keeps his arms around you. Keeps his gaze heavy, and in turn, you keep his heart in overdrive.

"So, like what?" You try to sound confident, but it doesn't work when your words are a whisper. "How did I ruin things?"

Jungkook shakes his head with a tenderness normally only reserved for Bam.

Or rather, reserved for those he adores.

"You kissed me back," he replies just as quietly. Has been in denial about it all, but he knows just as well as you do that it wasn't just him. He kissed you first, yes, he'll admit that, but you kissed him back. "You kissed me back and it's had me going insane for months."

"Could have just said that on Facetime."

"Yeah," he laughs, but it quickly settles into something far more serious. Sincere. "But I couldn't kiss you on Facetime just to make sure it wasn't a fluke."

"11,000 kilometres is an awfully long way to fly just to check for a fluke."

"11,115 kilometres," he corrects. You raise a brow at the fact he always needs to be right, so he clarifies, "Was a long flight. Spent most of it watching the map."

He tried watching films. Couldn't focus on a damn thing. All thoughts went right back to you.

"Regardless, it's still an awfully long way to come."

Jungkook just nods. Quietly asks, "Should I have just asked over Facetime? Hey, weird question, but did you mean to kiss me back?"

You shrug. Loosen your grip on the fabric of his shirt and let your palms rest flat against his chest. Have no idea how to explain the fact you're wearing his shirt for bed other than the simple fact it wasn't a fluke. 

If he kisses you again, you know exactly how you'll respond.

Embarrassingly, it'll be just the same as the first time, for you've hated the past few months just as much as he has. Have thought about it time and time again. Relived it. Buried it. Dug it back up just to torture yourself all over again.

"I suppose there's only one way to find out."

Hehehe hiiiii!!! I havent slept yet so it still counts as the weekend!! Sorry to my europe/uk/southern hemisphere girlies who were expecting an earlier upload time. If im being honest, i was too!!

Funnily enough, i just work so much better in the twilight hours and always have done. During the pandemic, when dappleddaisies was still just a lil account, i worked at a cinema and would get home at like 1am and write through until 4 or 5 in the morning - it remains the most productive ive ever been, i think!!

But on that note.... I'll see you next weekend bc the new york saga is now 4 installments hehehehe. I can't leave you hanging like this!!!!

Will they get their shit together??? Who knows!!!!

And happy mercury going direct day for all those who celebrate!! This retrograde bit me in the ASS!!!!!! Good riddance!!!!

Okay thats all luv u byeeeee x