"Did he not CC you in?" Jiwon asks, brows furrowed, spinning ever so slowly in her desk chair to face you. "Came through at, like, 10 AM? Our time? Must've been late where he is. Probably an accident."

The wheel of your mouse being spun as you skim down your inbox punctuates your frown while you look for any emails you might have missed—but there are none.

From across the room, you hear Jiwon's mouse clicking, and then a soft, "Oh. No, he didn't CC you in. That's weird. Let me forward it over."

Perhaps you're going crazy, but Jungkook not copying you in on work emails to your department feels like a dig. Proof that he doesn't need you. That the dream team is now the stuff of nightmares.

It's not even like it's some benign email that would prove no use in the future, or formality for the sake of appearing busy. Attached is the list of all the stadiums Mitch has provided an 'in' to. Contact details, rough idea of premises and locations, specifications of foot traffic. It's all numbers and statistics, but it doesn't mean you shouldn't be privy to it.

Glancing across to you, Jiwon offers a sympathetic frown, not that you're paying her any attention. You're too busy trying to look unbothered.

Issue is, Jiwon has seen you on a near-daily basis since the kiss. She's seen how your face twists when he comes to the office and asks to speak with Lea instead of you. She's seen how you kiss your teeth whenever he walks by, talking to whichever one of the new girls has taken his fancy for the week.

But she's also seen how Jungkook glances back to make sure you saw him, and how he'll always ask where you are if he comes by the interior design office and finds your desk empty.

Nothing's been quite right ever since the kiss, which is weird, 'cause Jiwon was almost certain it was the most romantic thing she'd ever witnessed.

It's no secret that you've always thought your pairing with Jungkook would be fatally flawed. You've reeled off reason after reason over the years as to why it wouldn't work.

His apartment is too minimalist! I'd rather not work with a hundred office girls who have also lusted after my man, if I'm being honest. Who? Jungkook? God, no. One of us would end up dead.

You believe them all, until you start to think about reasons it could work, instead.

He watches all the A24 movies I tell him to, and always listens to my opinion of them, even if it's just to disagree with my judgements. He always brings me back snacks whenever he drives past that one service station. He's the one I want to see when work is going well. He's the one I want to see when work isn't going well. And Christ alive, he can cook.

The thing is, no matter how much of a catch he is, you wouldn't work. You know you wouldn't. Your lives wouldn't fold in together like the ingredients of a cake. They'd repel. Separate.

You're forgetting that cakes need a binding ingredient. The eggs, if you will.

Love can bind even the most unlikely of souls.

But one kiss doesn't constitute love, and you damn well know it.

When the clock in your office ticks over to 4:45 in the afternoon, and no sunshine has cleared your face of thunder, Jiwon decides to take matters into her own hands. She'll become the egg, or so to speak, even if she doesn't realise it.

"We're going out," she tells you with no room for arguments. "You and me. It's a Friday, work has been shit, we need cocktails."

Cocking a brow, you're surprised by her boldness. Jiwon's a little younger than you, and still keen for nights out on the town. Those years are beyond you.

In fact, when you were Jiwon's age, it was Jungkook dragging you both to the bar after work.

Seems apt that he'd be the one to give you responsibilities preventing you from rewriting his legacy. Asshole.

"No can do," you sheepishly reply with a shrug. "Gotta go check on Bam. Kook would kill—"

"Jungkook manages to have a social life," Jiwon immediately counters. "Why can't you? Go home, give him a quick walk, and then we'll go for drinks. Home by midnight."

With a smile that's hard to say no to, and all the assurance in the world that Bam will be fine for a few hours of alone time this evening, Jiwon tries her best to convince you.

"And hey," she adds with a smile. "You said you unplugged the camera, right? How would he even know if you went out?"

Turning up your nose, you consider the options. Jungkook is a resourceful man. He has friends everywhere. "He knows everything."

"He knows nothing," Jiwon laughs, knowing you're being dramatic for the sake of. Both of you. "C'mon. Two drinks. Three tops."

"Two," you bargain. "And you're paying."

"Four," she counters, before holding up a gift certificate she had won at the Christmas work party for a local bar. Jungkook donated it to the raffle as one of his friends owns the bar. Seems only apt to use it now. "And, no. Jungkook is."

"Finally," you smirk, knowing that you really shouldn't be agreeing to this. "He's useful for once."

"Yay!"

There was once a time when your caller ID flashing on Jungkook's Apple watch would make his heart skip a beat.

If he were paying any attention to that specific functionality of his watch, he'd know that it still remains to be the case—for you're calling him now and his heart is getting just as jumbled up as it always did.

He dismisses the call. Can't be dealing with you right now. Not when he's at a meeting with a bunch of suits he's still trying to impress. 

Mitch has been parading Jungkook around like a new show pony, and while he doesn't mind the attention, he knows all eyes are on him. 

From the bigwigs who feel threatened by the capabilities of an attractive young man frequenting their offices, to the office girls who swoon and prove their point, Jungkook has never been more aware of his own existence.

He puts on his best facade while the annexe smoulders on inside his head. Converses with them like old friends. Cracks jokes and breaks hearts in the same breath. He was made for meetings like these; business deals that rely just as heavily on his persona as they do on his product.

But then you're calling for a second time, and the mask slips ever so slightly. His first thought is of New Year's. You wouldn't be calling so incessantly without good reason.

"Everything okay?" Mitch asks, catching Jungkook's momentary distraction. He's a man of many talents, and his watchful eye is just one of them. It's a contributing factor as to how he's made it this far. He can read people exceptionally well, Jungkook included. 

Jungkook nods, and tries not to give much away. "Just the office back in Seoul."

"This late?" Mitch questions, aware of the long hours worked by dutiful officeworkers in South Korea, but still surprised. "At this hour? Go. Answer it—we can wait."

"Oh, no, it's really—"

"Jungkook," Mitch laughs. "It's fine. We could all do with a coffee break regardless."

Knowing better than to refuse the offer, Jungkook sheepishly nods. "Thanks. I'll be right back."

But Mitch just shakes his head, a knowing smile on his face. He saw the name that popped up. Knows that it's the same name Jungkook gave when talking about 'his girl'.  Mitch knows he'd be in for a cold shoulder if he kept sending his wife to voicemail, so is alleviating Jungkook of that frosty fate. 

"Take your time," Mitch assures him. "Honestly."

Pulling his phone from his blazer pocket as he exits the meeting room, Jungkook quickly beelines for the hallway. His heart is beating a mile a minute. It's so fast it feels as if he might actually throw up.

He's just worried about Bam. Something must have happened for you to be ending your stalemate.

That's it. That's what has him so panicked. 

Not the fact he hasn't heard from you since you disconnected the doggy cam. It's not the fact that you've been the only thing he's been able to think about; everything else is fizzling into white noise around him. Not the fact he doesn't think he knows how to speak to you anymore.

As the door behind him closes, Jungkook is now in the stairwell that leads up and down the building, empty and alone. The stairs are unused by pretty much everyone because of the hallway's elevators, so he decides it's safe to slide his thumb across his screen.

A loading wheel spins into motion. Seconds tick by. One. Two. Oh god. Three. He thinks about just hanging up. Four.

The loading wheel disappears, Jungkook's face taking its usual spot up in the top right-hand corner, though his screen remains pitch black.

"Oh."

Never before has your voice shattered through him like a diamond falling on glass. It's in his heart, shards entering his bloodstream, his lungs, his vital organs.

"I didn't expect you to pick up," you sheepishly mumble, rustling ever so slightly until Jungkook hears the click of a light switch, and there you are.

Oh God, there you are.

Your nose is blushed, cheeks rosy, but it's not from tears. Your eyes give you away, and the lopsided grin that takes over your pretty lips, too.

"You're drunk," he immediately tells you, face stern, frankly irritated that you'd make him leave a meeting for this.

Shaking your head, some of your hair falls loose. You go to push it back, but your hands are totally uncoordinated, and the phone drops into the duvet. If he wasn't already confident that you're in his room, he is now.

"Do you at least have a bucket next to the bed?" His voice snarls through the speaker. "I swear to God, if you're sick—"

"God, you're so mean," you whine, pulling the camera back up to capture your furrowed brows and hurt eyes. You hiccup. Pout. "So mean."

The heightening of your tone is so severe that it's almost silent, your hurt prevailing.

"What?" He curtly replies, raking a hand through his hair, almost the way you had rearranged your hair. It's habit. Imitation. Obsession. Whatever. "I'm in the middle of—"

"I don't even know why I called," you sadly admit, casting your eyes down. "Sorry."

Before he can even reply, you cut the call short. His screen reverts to his lock screen, and Jungkook thinks he might be the one who throws up.

Truth be told, you hadn't felt ill at all before the phone call, but you're thinking a bucket might be a good idea, now.

You clumsily get to your feet, leaving his bed behind, phone buried in his sheets. Bam cocks his head as you walk away, but is too sleepy to really care. He trusts you'll be back.

The apartment is cold, Jungkook's heating off as a result of you being gone all evening. You're only just back, so it's just warming up. Part of you feels as if you'll be in trouble with Jungkook for drinking while on Bam watch, but you also know you'd never do anything to put him in harm's way.

Calling him was a dumb bid for attention. Stupid. Why you'd wanna talk to him when he's being such a prick is beyond you.

It's Jiwon's fault, you tell yourself as you tap the heating up a couple of notches. She'd been trying to get you to text him all evening. Was telling you how stupid you had both been, and somewhere along the way, you let yourself believe it.

Hearing how curtly he addressed you only proved that he didn't want to hear from you. Whatever you had went out the window as quickly as he did when he ran away from the prospect of kissing you. Mortifying.

And yet when you get back to his bed (of which you really know you shouldn't be in), his caller ID is lighting up your phone.

It's not an easy choice, accepting the call. Part of you considers blocking him.

But the rest of you knows that you never could.

"Can I help?" You scowl as you answer, tucking yourself back into his bed.

To your surprise, Jungkook smiles when he shakes his head. Is trying a little kindness, for a change. "What's going on with you? Why have you been drinking?"

"It's a Friday," you shrug, deliberately short with your answer. "Why is it any of your concern?"

"Because you're looking after my dog?" He laughs, now.

And there's that smile.

Fuck.

God, it hurts. It really fuckin' hurts. You've not seen him smile—not properly—in so long.

"Show me him," Jungkook encourages, knowing that Bam will be on the bed, right where he shouldn't be. You've never been good at following orders, but Jungkook's always liked that about you. He can't be mad that he's on the receiving end. "Please."

Tapping the screen, you silently gasp for air as the camera switches over, 'cause it feels like you're gonna sob. Your chest is all tight, and you can't make heads or tails of the way you're feeling. You're just grateful he can't see you.

"Hey, boy," Jungkook coos through the screen. "Are you missing your daddy?"

There's something about the sound of Jungkook's voice being distorted through the phone that stops Bam from recognising it. You both know this, and yet Jungkook still tries.

"He's been good," you quietly say, trying to disguise how shaky your voice is.

"Yeah?" He tenderly asks Bam. "Has your mummy been looking after you?"

Unlike the last time he called you that, Jungkook seems at ease. He knows what he's saying. It was deliberate. The way his soft expression slightly hardens only accentuates his sincerity.

"Hm?" he questions you, now. "Well, have you? Has he been okay?"

"Of cou—"

"Show me yourself," Jungkook interrupts quietly. Eyes earnest, he's not asking, he's telling. "Let me see you when you speak to me."

It's become a pet peeve of his, how you'll switch over to Bam to avoid looking at him. You've done it plenty of times over the years, but he really can't stand it now.

"Please," he whispers, nodding ever so gently as if to coax you into doing as he says.

And God damn him, because it fuckin' works.

"There she is," he smiles as your pouty face takes up his screen once more.

Shaking your head, your pout only grows. "Don't be nice to me."

Jungkook laughs, and knocks his head to the side like he so often does whenever he's dismissing your silly words. "Make up your mind. You hung up on me when I was mean."

"Oh!" You exclaim. "So you know you were mean?!"

Jungkook's lips purse, realising he's just outed himself as an asshole. "We're fighting."

"Doesn't mean you have to be mean!"

"Well, how else am I supposed to be?!" He helplessly replies.

"Fucking normal!" You almost shriek, causing Bam's head to perk up in surprise. "Sorry, boy, back to sleep. Your daddy is just being a prick."

"Hey, c'mon. Language. Don't say that in front of him."

"Well, he agrees," you strop, falling back down into the pillows. There's something cute about the way you're behaving, Jungkook thinks. The fact you're in his bed only makes it even worse for his already troubled mind.

"Look, I'm in a meeting, but I wanted to make sure you were okay," Jungkook explains, knowing he can't be on the phone for too much longer. He has appearances to keep up. "Why'd you call? Watcha need?"

It surprises him just how natural it feels to be 'normal' with you, for lack of a better term. He's missed it. Missed you.

And apparently, it's mutual.

"I just hate how things are," you sheepishly admit. "I went out tonight to take my mind off things, and I just... Kook, I hate this. I hate that you hate me, and—"

"Woah!" He interjects, genuine offence taking hold of his features. Brows furrowed, his dark eyes flash with an intensity you haven't been greeted with in quite some time. "Hate you?! Who on earth said I hated you?!"

"You!"

"Me?!"

"Yes!" You almost wail in disbelief. "You don't talk to me! You don't even smile at me in the office anymore. You don't CC me into emails that I need to be involved in. You've completely changed our work dynamic, and I get it, alright? I get that I did something stupid and if I could take it back, I would. It was stupid and dumb, and completely unprofessional of me—but you didn't have to nuke our entire friendship, Kook."

"You did something stupid?" He questions, genuinely confused. Part of him worries that by ignoring you, he's missed a slip-up of yours at work, which will only fuck him in the ass later on. "What did you—"

"Oh, quit playing dumb, Kook. The kiss," you manage to say without letting the scandal of it all interrupt you. "I kissed you, and it was dumb, and just a heat of the moment thing. I didn't mean—"

"What?" Jungkook asks with genuine confusion.

He kissed you. He fucked up. He's created distance because he knows it was wrong.

It's on him, he thinks. Not you.

He doesn't understand why you think it's your fault.

"Please, can you just stop punishing me for it?" You beg. "I'm sorry, okay?"

The tone of your voice is so timid and frail that it almost breaks Jungkook right then and there.

This whole time, he's been punishing himself. Didn't even realise that it could have seemed like he was punishing you instead.

He doesn't know how to articulate any of that though, so he just nods. Swallows. Says, "Yeah. Shit. I mean, I'm sorry. I didn't realise—"

"No," you shake your head, mortified by this whole entire affair. "You don't have to be sorry. Just, please, can you be normal?"

And so he shamefully nods.

"I just hate it," you whisper, turning on your side, dragging your phone with you. There's a sleepiness to your confession. Jungkook knows that he wouldn't be getting the inside scoop if you weren't a little tipsy. And you definitely wouldn't admit, "I miss you."

But in classic 'you' fashion, you don't let him get a word in edgeways.

Instead, you continue, "Anyways, I'm tired, and you have a meeting to return to. I'll call you in the morning."

With that, the call ends, and Jungkook is left in his annexe, holding a fire extinguisher knowing damn well that it's too late. The damage is already done.

If he wants to fix this, he'll need supplies. Bricks and mortar.

And while he doesn't really know how to make that happen, he knows that the first thing he needs to do is kick the trespassers off his land.

Which is why you wake up to a knock at the door at just gone 10 in the morning. You're hanging out of your arse, and regret pretty much every drink consumed the night before. Calling Jungkook is a blurry memory, and not one that you wish to think about.

Issue is, it's hard not to when a delivery man is in front of you with a bouquet of sunflowers and a box of hangover cure drinks.

There's only one person who'd know to send you these, and where to send them to.

Hauling them back into the kitchen, you flick your eyes across to the doggy cam, but it's still unplugged, so there's no chance of him seeing this. You wonder what freakish kind of game he's playing.

You asked him to be normal.

This is most definitely not normal.

The bouquet is twice the size of the one you purchased for yourself. Must have cost him a fortune, especially for this time of year.

Your fingers toy with the note card tucked into the flowers, debating whether or not it needs to be read.

On the one hand, you know it's from Jungkook. What difference will it make?

On the other, but also kind in the same vein, you know it's from Jungkook. He wouldn't add a note unless there was something he needed to say.

Your upper teeth tug on your bottom lip. It shouldn't be such a troubling choice to make, and yet you're almost shaking as you turn the small card over. The words are printed, not hand-written.

You think this is a blessing, because to see his handwriting craft such a message would have likely sent you into a coma.

He doesn't address you by name, nor does he sign off with his.

Instead, he simply says:

I don't care who buys you flowers, just as long as you know I'll always buy you better ones.

Shaking your head as you take in the words, you can't help but breathe out a faint complaint.

"What the fuck is happening?" You quietly ask, pressing the edge of the note to your lips, before tucking it back into the bouquet. "What the fuck does he want?"

It's a fantastic question that not even Jungkook could articulate an answer for. He'd search high and low for words that would never come because there's only one word that would make any sense.

All he'd be able to muster in response would be a quiet, borderline embarrassed and yet painfully honest: "You."

hehehehe 

I haven't slept yet, so it's still sunday!!!! even if the clock says Monday!!!!!!

see you next weekend hehehehe xxx