Pitter-Patter

AN: This chapter, and the next four, are from Namjoon's point of view.

Mom told me that a woman never forgets her first man.

When she was drunk enough, she'd tell me how she still misses her first and that no one, not even my dad, could ever compare.

'Jungkook smells weird right now.'

All floral or fruity flavors used to mask the taste and smell of alcohol last until it hits the back of your throat. And then it festers in the stomach, mating with every pore. And the race begins in which the body tried tries to get every drop out as fast as possible. Back through the mouth, urine, or sweat.

Even if the person doesn't usually sweat, in a few hours, the skin will get coated in this thin layer of toxic waste that smells like the worst perfume that can't be replicated.

But I still pressed my lips against his skin.

I traced the bones that stuck out. Ribs, hipbones, and collarbone.

Eyes shut and heavy breaths were all I got in return.

If he was awake, he wouldn't have seen me tracing a sensorial map with my fingers either way.

Because I didn't know how much longer I could simply caress without pulling, kiss without biting, and tease without violating.

I wanted to make him mine.

He wasn't mine.

He wouldn't be able to sleep if he was.

Lean against other men if he knew.

But right now, I had no right.

'We are young. He is drunk. And a virgin.'

A fear that had no bounds.

How would he go somewhere else to satisfy his sexual needs if his only sexual need so far consisted of one orgasm that lasted less than five minutes a day?

I knew he wouldn't cheat on me right now. But the thought that someone else might do him and that he'd crave that person for the rest of his life simply because it was his first made me hear a clock ticking in the background of our silent lives.

'Ah, he's going to catch a cold.'

I should pick him up and put him to bed.

I thought about it.

But this naked body that innocently rested under my fingers made me linger.

The pain in the knees was nothing compared to the sick pleasure I felt while touching him. Even without his knowledge.

I wished I could see him.

But the thought of getting up and turning the lights on made me feel exposed.

I was his boyfriend.

But I hadn't been entirely honest.

The desire to shake him awake and make him scream under me was getting really irksome.

I abhorred his lack of stamina.

I was still hard and yet, I didn't want to be the one to touch myself.

And forcing him to touch me was not an option at this very moment.

I didn't mind that he rarely approached me himself. If ever.

But I minded how he was satisfied with only one orgasm.

How he could ignore my needs and go to sleep like everything was fine for everyone around him.

It made my chest ache; my hands tremble and my mouth, salivate.

'Ah, if I do him now then he'll hate me.'

He'd wake up screaming and kicking from the pain. And I probably wouldn't be able to stop even if he started crying.

Today, out of all the days we spent together. I wanted to assert my dominance over him.

Grab Sony's arm and tell him: Back off, don't touch what's mine.

But was he mine?

How could I tell?

Letting me touch him made him mine?

Was it that he spent his days with me more than anyone else?

But then again, he let him touch him and he spend so many hours with those four that he could as well be theirs.

Not in a romantic way. But still.

I wanted his thoughts to be filled with me.

As for now, it seemed like I became a hindrance.

I noticed him avoiding me even when we were in the same house. I noticed him thinking twice before asking me to do something together. And he didn't seem like he enjoyed being fingered constantly, but the thought of him rejecting me after giving me his virginity made a spot at the back of my head burn as if it was an actual wound.

'You stupid kid.' I cried in my mind and kissed his cheek in the real world.

Letting his deep breathing hit me in the face with every exhale like a slap.

It was subtle, but it was as if he was slipping between my fingers.

Maybe it was the weed. Or the lack thereof.

Perhaps, the addiction itself was the wall that I had been banging on for the entire time without making a single crack.

'I think I'm getting addicted to you.'

And that thought I heard from the back of my mind, hurt.

Because somewhere deep and far away, I hid the fear or the knowledge that this love was one-sided.

He liked me. But he didn't stare at me when I dried my hair with a towel as I stared at him.

He enjoyed spending time with me. But he could bear not being touched when we ate side by side or while we were watching Tv.

He cared about me. But he didn't buy food he knew I couldn't refuse or wondered if I slept, was cold, or stressed out.

No.

Even though he said yes to being in a relationship. I didn't foresee the fact that I'd still be the one who loved him more. In every single way. It showed, plain and simple. Just like V said.

I was the one holding him down even if in a way, he kind of accepted it. After I avoided mentioning what it entailed from the beginning. Since I was too afraid that he'd run away if I did.

'Exams will be over in a couple of months. And we might not go to the same university.'

Hell. He might even have to move for his. And I wouldn't be able to let him go.

I didn't even care where he ended up. I just wanted to make sure I'll be there too.

I couldn't entertain the thought that I would only see him for a few hours without feeling mad.

Or that we'd drift apart.

Or that he'd fall in love with someone else.

'Maybe, even…a girl.'

I bit the right side of his neck until I made sure I left a mark.

He shifted in his sleep but didn't wake up.

He covered up any sign I ever left as proof of my existence on his body with makeup.

Sometimes, I wanted to pull him in the bathroom stall of the school, make a mess of his neck and then have him walk around with it for the rest of the day.

Right now, however, I lifted my boyfriend off the ground, pants still off, middle still wet, skin still oozing with the nauseating smell of alcohol.

I lay down with him nuzzled at my chest, as you would with a pet, and tried to fall asleep like that.

The thought of tomorrow was enough to kill my erection.

But his somewhat regular breathing helped me drift to a dreamless sleep.

'That bloody phone…'

"Hi…Jung…Yeah. I'm fine. I'll eat here…Don't worry... No. I didn't talk to her."

'Her, who?'

"Not today. Maybe tomorrow…Yeah, I know. Namjoon has the same books. He said he'll help me study…No, I have a shift tomorrow. I'll call when I get home…Okay, bye."

I opened one eye and saw him searching for something only to turn around, frown whilst looking at my one open eye with two sleepy ones for a few full seconds before asking:

"Where are my pants?'

"At the door."

He massaged his temples.

"Any painkillers?"

"In the kitchen."

Almost got up, but I caught him midmotion and pulled him close to me, securing the whole body by the upper chest.

"Namjoon…" He complained. "My head hurts and I'm thirsty."

"I know."

He tried to get my hands off and failed.

"Come on. It's already eleven."

"Just a bit," I whispered.

He sighed.

And I could feel him waiting, impatient for me to release him.

I added one leg on top of him.

"If you want to keep sleeping then sleep. I need to take a shower and study."

"I said I'll help."

"Then let's go."

He almost propelled himself forwards, but it only gave him one more inch of leeway.

"Kiss me," I requested slowly.

The room got quiet.

"After I brush my teeth."

"Now."

I pinned him under me, waiting. Without leaning forwards as he looked at me with an expression that was almost genuine hatred.

One peck was all I got.

"You're mean," I told him.

"You're…" He cut himself off and closed his eyes.

I leaned in, licked his chapped lips, and slipped my tongue in.

At first, he didn't want it. His tongue barely moved against mine and yet, I could pinpoint the exact second, he got sucked in.

Breathing faster and shallower the more our tongues danced.

One hand reached for the back of my head and the other loosely rested on my shoulder.

I ended the kiss, leaving him breathless. Letting him catch his breath while I was planting kisses in a straight line from lips to neck, down the collarbone.

Only to bite it.

"Aw! Aw… why do you do it like that?"

"Like that, how?"

"Can't you just lightly…bite me? You sink your teeth like…"

"I want to drink your blood." I chuckled.

He smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, we have to get out of bed."

"…why?"

"Namjoon!"

I sighed.

"But aren't you a bit hard already?"

He wouldn't look me in the eye but responded by only slightly pushing me away, closing what he could of his legs as if that could hide anything.

"I can do it in the shower."

"Alone?"

"…not necessarily." He whispered.

I smiled and got off him.

"Finally!" He exclaimed and ran out, successfully hiding his lower parts from me.

When I also reached the kitchen, he was downing cold water. The pain pills were on the counter and the pants I wanted to burn were on again.

'Why did you put them on if you're going to shower?' I thought.

"Why did you drink so much yesterday?" I asked.

I waited for him to stop drinking water before I opened the fridge and looked inside, trying to find something that'd pass as breakfast.

"I got carried away…" He mumbled.

"I saw. But weren't you just trying to replace weed?"

Bottle in hand, eyes wide, he cracked his head to his right to look at me in a swift motion. Like a scared animal.

"It's not a good substitute." He concluded drily.

"Of course, it's not."

"Yeah. I know that."

"But you still got piss drunk and cheated on me with Sony all night." I babbled.

"Che…Cheated? I was using him as support. Like you would a…I don't know, a wall?"

"Hm, I wonder what he'd say if I told him what you really think of him."

"You know what I meant! It wasn't anything romantic about it, he simply…"

"Be more defensive about it. I like it."

I smirked, took the bottle out of his hand, and drank some whilst he seemed to be swearing at me in his mind.

"I'm going to take a shower."

He was almost in the bathroom when I announced:

"I'm coming with you."

"Don't."

He closed the door behind him.

I waited for approximately ten seconds before going in and finding him half-naked.

He acknowledged my existence by standing completely still for a few seconds before continuing to take off his pants and turning on the shower.

I got in as well.

The water only hit his side, but I wasn't cold.

I just watched his skin get wet from behind and didn't think one thought of it.

He turned around, probably noticing I haven't moved a muscle in at least four minutes.

Which prompted him to pick up the showerhead and direct it at me, as he washed his hair with the other hand.

I reached out my own hand to grab a hold of his genitals.

"What the…" The showerhead fell from his hand.

I let go.

And looked at his blushing, confused face.

The water was spraying our feet.

I almost chuckled out loud.

He squirted liquid soap in his hands and started washing me and then himself as if nothing happened.

He focused only on the upper part of our bodies.

"Turn around." He mumbled.

And washed my hair as well.

Practically, I could get out. But I didn't. I grabbed the showerhead from him and held it above his head.

He covered his eyes as shampoo traveled down from his head to his body, and in the tub.

When he was soap-free, I turned him around, washed his back and ass without teasing him at all.

He might've been surprised when I turned the water off and got out.

I handed him a towel and walked out, butt naked, straight to the fridge.

If he wanted to do more, he didn't say anything. He dressed up with the clothes he previously left here for times like these and pulled out books from my backpack, and brought them to the table.

"Eat first."

"I'll eat later." He murmured.

"I'll make some eggs. Want them boiled or fried?"

"…fried."

This was comfortable for me.

But the dark cloud that bubbled from the corner of the room was multiplying with every cut vegetable.

'He wants to memorize new material with a hangover?'

I threw some clothes on before placing the plate on top of his open book and sitting next to him.

"What are you struggling with?" I asked, mouth full of egg and cucumber.

"Everything." He confessed, shameless.

"Hm…you need to be a bit more specific."

"Well, I guess I can study literature on my own. History too, maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Can you help with math and physics? Chemistry too?"

"So, your logical brain is undeveloped, huh?"

"Don't mock me."

"I am not. There are these parts in the brain called…"

"No anatomy needed. Thanks." He cut me off.

"Eat." I pointed at the plate.

He swallowed even if he looked slightly repelled by the food.

"What chapter are you on?" I asked while I was washing my plate.

"Two."

"Really? You started from scratch?"

"I told you I don't remember anything…It's all in a haze. I think I was asleep when they talked about, ah, what are they called again?"

I sighed as he searched through his notes.

"Don't bother. If we're starting from scratch then you need to memorize on your own first and then let me quiz you."

"But…"

He bit his lip while I dried my hands.

"What now? I'll even give you a time limit. We'll be on chapter five by lunch."

"But…" He looked away and cracked the sliding back door as if he needed some air.

I threw the rag on the counter and sat down by his right.

"But what? You said you wanted to learn."

"I do."

"Then what are you butting about? Read chapter 2, do the exercises, and…"

He cut me off.

"But I can't remember."

"What do you mean?"

"I've read this chapter three times before. And I forget most of it in a few days. So…what do I do?"

We locked eyes.

And mine probably seemed more confused than his.

"You need to keep doing exercises until it comes naturally," I explained.

"I don't have the time…I need to go through all of them quickly since there's so much left."

I leaned against the table.

"Then how did you pass every year?"

"Adrenaline."

"Huh?"

"If I am anxious and weedless, I can't sleep so…I use it to study like crazy. But most years, I've actually paid a bit more attention. This year, I really…didn't bother with anything. And now I have a job and someone who gets me…tired, so…"

"So you couldn't be the study hermit you turned into around this time every year because of me?"

"Not really. See, I have less anxiety now so…that's good. But bad for studying. And I am not saying it's your fault. I'm just telling you…my problem. I'd love some help though."

"I study all year. Slow and steady wins the race. And besides, I remember everything really easily so…" I admitted to him and myself in a lower voice.

He rested his head in his hands and stared at the book from between his arms like it was a curse.

"I fried my brain. I swear. I don't even remember my own phone number."

"There are some studies that talk about it. You know…doing drugs before your brain has fully developed which truly ends at the age of twenty-five, sometimes twenty-seven." I looked down and saw him staring at me with a murderous stare.

"Will you give me a break? I don't know my own cellphone number!" He yelled, looking both scared and angry with himself.

I caressed his back and grabbed the math book.

"Look. You don't need an A. You just need to pass. So, don't study for an A."

"I wasn't studying for an A." He mumbled, sounding bitter.

"Yes, you were. If you've read the same chapter three times and didn't move on, it means you expect yourself to know everything." I tried not to react to the new stare he was throwing my way and added: "Even if it's subconsciously. For a passing grade, you just need to know a few answers, not all. So, remember what you can at the hardest subjects. And study for an A at the ones you excel at." I bit the inside of my cheek lightly and rubbed his shoulder before I asked: "What do you excel at by the way?"

"Music, literature and history."

"Good, good. We don't have a music exam, but…" He let his head fall on the desk as I resisted the urge to smile. "You'll be fine. Just do what you always did and ignore me."

"I'm already doing what I always did. I need to reach the bottom of despair so adrenaline will highwire everything, it just hasn't happened yet…I'm so tired I could sleep all day..."

"Alright… If you need my help, I'll be in the next room. So, just tell me when…"

He tugged on my shirt before I got up.

"What?" I asked.

"Are there any pills or powders that could help me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like coke or, I don't know, something?"

I closed my eyes.

"If you can't remember sober, what are the chances you'll remember anything on coke?"

"Pretty slim, huh?" He deadpanned.

I nodded.

He let go of my shirt.

"Pretty slim," I repeated and went into my bedroom, not looking back.

One hour later, I heard some music, but I ignored it. Then I heard the stove and was almost glad that he was eating. But the vacuum cleaner had me behind him in a heartbeat.

"What are you doing?"

"God damn, you scared me!" He jumped, hand on chest. "When was the last time you cleaned? There's dust everywhere and there are empty bottles by the trash that fall every time you open the cupboard and…"

"You are the one who drank them and now you complain to me about it?"

"I can't concentrate in this place. There are wrappers under the table and the air's like, dirty."

I sighed.

"That's not why you can't concentrate," I said softly.

He hummed whilst moving further away with the vacuum.

I closed the door to the bedroom and called Fred instead of saying something that I might regret later.

"Hi."

"Hi, you busy?"

"I'm never busy for you kid. What happened?"

"Nothing much. I called because I have a…question."

After a few seconds of silence on his end and the sound of the vacuum getting louder as it hit the door, I said: "Sugar withdrawal. How do you…soothe it? Make it pass faster?"

"Water, eight hours of sleep, and healthy food."

"Really? The basics?"

"Take him out for a walk once in a while."

"Any pills for it? I don't know to …keep one stable?"

"You want to replace an addiction with another?"

"I guess not."

"The only way is to wait it out. Didn't you say he did it before?"

"Yeah, but this time, it's not quick enough."

"What do you mean?"

"He's not getting the desired withdrawal symptoms or something…"

"What the heck? Is there even such a thing?"

The sound of something falling on the other end had me smiling. He went on: "Look, kiddo, just be there, breathe, it'll pass. It's not like it's a hard dr…sugar, it's not that bad. It's manageable. Be understanding."

"I am. I'm just worried. Exams are real soon."

"Ah, right. Do you need some free time? Are you getting A pluses or just A's?"

"I am fine. I think I should help him study though, but I don't know how since…his brain isn't…working."

There was a long pause in our conversation and the sound of the vacuum sounded louder than it did before.

"There are pills for that. You know, ginkgo Biloba and what not. Those pills that help you concentrate, or vitamins, I don't know. Go to a pharmacy."

"I will."

"Good. That's all?"

"That's all."

He sighed.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Mona has a cold and it's been driving me crazy. My aunt's coming to visit at the same time, so I need to lay low for a while if you know what I mean. Enjoy your free time."

"Oh. Got it. Wait. You wanted me to ask for it when you were going to give it to me anyway?"

"Talk to you later." He said as if I never said anything.

"Do you want me to get something from the pharmacy for her too?"

"Nah. I got the whole pharmacy right here already. There's nothing missing but…patience. The body's a slow machine."

"Yeah. It is."

Another pause.

"Oh, well. Take care kid."

"You too."

He hung up just when the door flew open to reveal Jungkook pulling on the vacuum's wire in an attempt to get it inside this room as well.

I was changing clothes while he unplugged it and plugged it right by the tatami.

"Where are you going?" He asked stopping midway from pressing the on button.

"Pharmacy."

"Are you sick?"

"No. I wish." I whispered.

"What?"

"There are these pills that help with studying. I'm going to get you some."

"I don't need them. I'm telling you. A few more weeks of the teachers yelling into my ear about the exams and my anxiety will turn me into a studying beast." He moved his hand up and down in the air as if that'd dismiss my concerns.

"It can't hurt if you take them. You have nothing to lose, do you?"

"I guess not. But I'd rather not…hey, don't, Nam…"

I was out of the house at the drop of a hat. But I could still hear the vacuum as I went out the gate.

The cold air and the quietness helped me relax. The sight of the green cross a few streets down made me walk slower.

I entered the pharmacy with my hands in my pockets and flushed cheeks. I positioned myself in line whilst rubbing my hands together and then the voice of the guy before me froze the blood in my veins:

"Sensible stomach. An antiacid?... No. She already tried that one. Maybe the other one."

The mint-like green hair left my mouth dry and my fists warm.

There was no warning, he didn't say 'thank you' or 'goodbye', he swiftly turned around and as if he couldn't have ignored my face the second his eyes spotted me.

I froze. He froze.

We were looking at each other like two predators meeting in the wild. Not sure which one could take the other out the fastest.

The woman behind the glass was glancing at us, puzzled. I could see her thinking: 'What's the next customer doing? They're not talking. Do they know each other?'

Jungkook's face appeared in my mind's eye like an object that inevitably floats after you throw it into deep waters.

So, I sidestepped.

Leaving enough space for him to walk by like we were true strangers.

But my eyes never left his for a second.

Min Yoongi took one step towards the exit and my mouth talked as if, without permission: "If you did well until now. Why do you look so guilty?"

"I'm not." He bit back and kept walking, slamming the door after himself.

I sighed as the wide eyes of the young woman didn't blink once.

From where I stood, all alone, I said: "Anything that could help a brain focus and retain information for studying. I'd prefer pills instead of dissolvable tablets, tinctures, or suppositories. But if you know anything that's really good, I'll take that in any form."

She absently nodded and walked away with unsteady steps.

I left with a full bag, knowing full well that Jungkook would probably only take three out of the ten bottles.

The grey clouds and the weak sun were what I expected to see. The green-haired boy leaning against the telephone pole wasn't part of the scenery I anticipated.

"You're really forcing your luck." That is what I quickly breathed out, passing him by with an annoying smirk.

He was following me as he talked: "I'm not. I didn't even say hi to him, didn't I?"

"Congrats. Would you like a prize for caring about your own safety? How about a brain-boosting pill?"

I heard him click his tongue before muttering: "Don't take me lightly, monster."

Dead in my tracks, I turned around and met his dead eyes: "What the fuck do you want?"

"Did you get him too?"

"What?"

"It's your fault that he's an addict, isn't it?"

"You like to assume a lot of things. I wouldn't if I were you." I said, as calmly as I could.

The wind was getting harsher and a drop of water definitely hit my scalp.

Our eyes locked, our fists ready.

"Then whose fault is it?"

"Why do You care? It's not like you're much different." I spat.

"I quit and you know it!" He screamed.

"As if anyone can quit that stuff for life. Wait until you fail an exam, a job interview or your mom says the wrong thing once." I said, chuckling.

"What do you know, you fucking…?!"

I cut him off.

"I know your kind. Which is why I'm not that surprised you're talking to me on your own accord. But since you're still holding onto your sobriety pretty well even though you seem to have a death wish. I have to ask, are you retarded?"

I towered over him, one hand still in the pocket of the jacket, the other holding onto the plastic bag with white knuckles.

Min Yoongi was smaller and thinner than Jungkook. He had the body of what I thought an anorexic would look like if he or she had the luck of obtaining the metabolism of a junkie. No ounce of fat, or strength.

No threat.

Besides that. I hated that mouth of his since it that could still form words.

"Make him quit."

I laughed with irony and spit.

"You're in over your head, friend of no one. Think of yourself and yourself only unless you want me to make sure you won't be able to think at all."

I turned back around, deciding that the conversation was over for the both of us. But the voice that shouted next made my teeth hurt as they were grinding against each other.

"You said you care about him! You lied to us all, didn't you?! You're just using him for your selfish plea…."

Bag on the sidewalk, cold wind blowing, and hands squeezing his neck. Ah. How good it made me feel as he clawed at my arm with those two sticks flailing above the ground.

"You know you can't make an addict quit by forcing him to quit. He has to want it himself. So, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU RISKING YOUR BREATH FOR! HA?!"

"…mh.ph…n…" Neck and cheeks became a bright red, eyes stuck to look at the heavens as the clouds started crying on his face.

"This is the last time you get to worry about anyone but yourself. UNDERSTOOD?!"

"Oh, my." An older lady breathed out with one hand covering her mouth, the other holding onto her young granddaughter, pulling on her frail arm to walk faster whilst struggling with the umbrella that wouldn't open.

I let him fall to the ground, coughing violently. I lightly hit his knee before I asked again: "Understood?"

He was still nodding when I picked up the bag and approached the two women.

They both looked terrified when I took the umbrella, opened it, and handed it back to the youngest.

Voice barely above a whisper, she uttered a 'thank you', just before I walked away with big, sure steps.

It wasn't raining, it was pouring as if someone just released the trap that held a ton of water above my head.

My breathing was shallow and my body warm.

'Fucking idiot.' I kept thinking.

I could see my house and the faces of the few passerby's judging me with every step I took.

'As if I'd ever give Jungkook something he wouldn't be able to quit. Fucking moron.'

My hands were slipping against the lock of the fence whilst the open bag collected the freshwater.

I grunted and kicked it as if that'd get it to open.

After a minute, I was still getting rained on whilst the crown of my head was leaning against the front door, unable to go in.

'He'll die in a few years. They can't be friends. No. No one can afford to care about him.' I repeated this in my head again and again until it brought forth the will to open the door.

Jungkook was on the floor, by the table, head on a notebook, chips by his side, deep asleep.

I was wet from head to toe, with a bleeding arm.

'I thought you said that adrenaline gives you insomnia. But I guess, it's better if you don't see me like this.'

I left a trail of water drops on my way to the kitchen, where I dropped the bag in the sink, right before I tiptoed into the bathroom and stripped.

I caught a glimpse of my eyes that were still covered by the wet hair and shuddered.

Then the scratches started to sting, so I opened the pill cabinet by the sink to search for some bandages and rubbing alcohol.

It looked exactly how I remembered it except for one see-through pill bottle that was slightly tilted and almost empty. I remembered it specifically since I had to renew the prescription for it the month in which my grandma had died.

I picked it up and stared at it, making the few pills bounce against each other.

'Fuck.' I thought, with a heavy chest.

I emptied it in the toilet, opened the window, and threw the pill bottle out.

I showered with trembling hands and went out to look at Jungkook with different eyes.

I collapsed on the futon after I covered the scratches with band-aids and a long-sleeved shirt, and despite the quiet house, I couldn't fall asleep. Nor find it in me to pick up the boyfriend that wouldn't wake up even if I threw him on the floor.

No. I couldn't face his limp body.

No. I didn't want to touch it.

No. It was my fault.

Just like Yoongi feared.

My presence alone got him access to drugs.

And I could either prevent this access in any way possible.

Traumatize him enough that he wouldn't touch anything new even if he was desperate.

Or dump him for his own good.

I didn't know if I was strong enough to do either one at this moment.

I tried to quiet my mind, focus on that line that held no sounds and drown in it.

'Ah, Jungkook…is it really my fault? Would you have stopped looking for dealers at some point? The lack of it…would it have prevented you from being an addict? Or would you just grow up, move from this place and find some real ones out there? Is it me or is it you?... does it even matter at this point?'

The wind howled and the old windows danced with it, creating a song of their own. The bag and the faucet dripped into the sink. And Jungkook's medicated deep breathing was not as loud, but loud enough for me to hear it from the other room.

Or maybe, I was focusing on it without meaning to.

Staring at the ceiling when Fred's call became the loudest.

AN:Sorry for posting one day late. And sorry for any mistakes. Not in my element this week. Hope you guys like it a bit. See you in ten days.