• 2- ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ •

The deal is quick. Clean. Cash in, pills out. I don't bother sticking around for pleasantries-too many eyes, too many risks.

The street smells like piss and cheap beer, but I don't care. Money's in my pocket, and it's time to go.

I take the long way back, hands in my pockets, the weight of a few hundred dollars pressing against my thigh. It's not much, but it's something.

Enough to keep Damien off my back for a bit. Enough to make it worth it.

My new place isn't far, just a few turns down quieter roads. I still can't believe I had to settle for a fucking room. The dorms were full. Flats were too expensive. And this?

This was the only room left.

Super cheap, at least.

One problem-there's already a roommate. Well, beggars can't be choosers.

The only correct solution-drive him out.

The landlord said his name's Y/N. Even arranged things like a girl. Fairy lights. Neatly folded blankets. The whole place probably smells like vanilla and something soft. And from what I could tell?

Y/N already sounds weak as fuck. Probably one of those quiet, nervous types. One laugh, and he'll go running.

Maybe he'll even cry. Ha ha.

I reach the building and climb the stairs two at a time, unlocking the door to my new, cheap little room.

The second I step inside, the fairy lights hit me first. A whole side of the room is glowing, tiny golden bulbs strung up like some Pinterest bullshit. A neatly made bed. A folded blanket. A couple of plants on the windowsill.

Y/N's side.

Mine?

Boxes. A plain mattress. No sheets. Just a pile of shit I need to unpack.

I sigh, rolling my shoulders. I should start unpacking, but instead, my mind drifts-to the girl I bumped into this morning.

Fuck, she was beautiful.

The word doesn't even begin to cut it.

Soft brown waves. Tan skin. A mouth that looked too damn good when she bit her lip, all caught up in whatever thought was running through her head. She smelled like cinnamon.

Looked like trouble.

And then there were her legs. Fuck.

I shake my head, running a hand through my hair.

I can't be thinking about frail boy's girl.

Though, let's be honest-she deserved better than the frail boy.

And right then, the door swings open.

I turn, expecting my new roommate.

Instead, standing in the doorway, staring at me wide-eyed, is the girl from this morning.

.....

I sit on the edge of my bed, legs spread wide, phone and cigarette pack tossed carelessly beside me. I should be scrolling, checking texts, lighting one up-something. But instead, I'm watching her.

Not in a way she'd notice. Just enough. Enough to see the way she's taking everything in, her eyes flicking from my side of the room to the mess I've made, to me.

She hasn't said a word yet. Just standing there, thinking. I can practically hear it -the thoughts, the connections, the conclusions she's jumping to.

Then she moves.

She shrugs off her jacket, smooth, effortless. Hangs it in the cupboard. The soft fabric of her top clings for half a second before settling against her. Then, right in front of me, she lifts her hands, fingers undoing the tie in her hair.

Fuck.

Waves of chestnut brown tumble down, loose and a little messy, catching the warm glow of her damn fairy lights. My jaw tightens.

Shake it off.

Then it hits me.

What the fuck.

Y/N.

I thought Y/N was a man.

I sit up straighter, staring now, piecing it together. No. No fucking way.

She's my roommate?

The girl takes a deep breath, like she's gathering every ounce of courage in her bones. Then she turns to face me.

Big hazel eyes, flickering with something bright. Full lips that twitch, like she's debating how to handle this. And freckles. Light, scattered across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Soft, like they shouldn't belong in a place like this, in a situation like this.

Then she speaks.

"Hi!" A little too chirpy. A little forced. "I'm Y/N! I'm the other roommate, and um-l was wondering who you were?"

I stare.

Then I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face.

What the fuck did I just get myself into?

I was expecting some frail little dude, easy to kick out. Not this.

She's still standing there, all bright eyes and forced enthusiasm, waiting for an answer.

I glance at her again- at the way she's trying too hard to make this normal.

Yeah. This is not normal.

I exhale again, shaking my head.

Is she even aware she's rented a room with a man?

How fucking stupid does someone have to be to do that?

What if it wasn't me? What if it was some asshole who'd actually fuck with her?

She's standing there like a goddamn deer, wide-eyed and oblivious, while men out there are fucking hyenas.

Fuck.

Dana shifts on her feet, then tries again, her voice softer but still carrying that damn enthusiasm.

"Um-so, yeah. I'm Y/N. And you are...?"

I stare at her.

Then scoff.

"The guy who apparently has to live with a fucking idiot."

Her eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

I lean back, resting my weight on my palms, voice flat. "Tell me, Y/N. Did you know you were renting a room with a man, or did your brain just conveniently forget to ask?"

She blinks, her big hazel eyes darting around the room before resting on my face. "The landlord said my roommate's name was JUNGKOOK."

I raise a brow. "Yeah. And?"

She narrows her eyes. "I asked. He said you were a girl."

I smirk. "You mean he lied. Congrats, princess. You got scammed."

Y/N exhales sharply through her nose, clearly trying not to explode. Aw, that was adorable.

"Well, I live here now, so..."

"So what?" I cut her off. "You planning to stay?"

She lifts her chin, meets my gaze head-on. "Yes. I already paid for six months. It's not refundable."

I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

.....

Y/N's still standing there, waiting for an answer, her arms now bare without her jacket.

She's still in the same outfit from this morning-olive green top, beige shorts, brown leather accessories. The earthy colors suit her, soft against her tan skin.

But now, under the dim glow of her fairy lights, she looks smaller somehow.

And she's shivering.

Not much. Just the faintest tremor in her arms, the slight shake in her breath.

Maybe from the draft slipping through the window.

Maybe from me.

Too fucking bad for her. I don't make things easy.

I push off the bed, standing slow, stretching out the silence between us like it's something tangible-something she can feel. She doesn't move, but I catch the way her fingers tense, the way her chest rises just a little too fast.

Good. She's nervous. She should be. That's the plan. Intimidate her straight out of the room. Pretty or not, she needs to go.

I take a step forward. She takes half a step back.

Another step. Another half step back.

My smirk widens.

So fucking cute.

She stops when her back brushes the wall. She's trapped, blinking up at me, her hazel eyes flickering with something uncertain-wariness, maybe. Or something else entirely.

I reach into my pocket. Pull out my lighter, flick it open, spark the cigarette between my lips.

The first inhale fills my lungs. The second -exhale. A slow drag of smoke curling into the space between us, slipping into the air like a warning.

Her nose scrunches.

Bingo.

She's got to leave after this.

I twirl a loose strand of her hair between my fingers, watching the way she stiffens. Soft. Fucking soft. And the scent -warm, something sweet. Cinnamon? No. Vanilla? Fuck.

A muscle ticks in my jaw. I should take a step back. I should let go, this isn't something I would do. But this girl, her presence is fucking with my brain.

More reasons for her to leave.

I lean in closer, voice low.

"If this bothers you so much..." I let the words drag, just a little, before tilting my head, my smirk sharpening. "Leave."

Her breath stutters. Just slightly. A little too fast.

I expect her to snap, maybe shove me, maybe stammer something weak before grabbing her shit and running out.

She does none of that.

Instead, she blinks-once, twice-then forces out a breathless little laugh. It's nervous, fake as hell, but still-she laughs.

Who the fuck laughs in a situation like this?

"Oh, um... who said it bothers me?" She forces her voice into something casual, something light, even as her cheeks turn a fucking deep red.

I narrow my eyes. "Are you blushing?"

She rolls her eyes, still all fake-nonchalant. "It's just warm in here." Wasn't she just shivering minutes back?

My lips twitch. "Is that so?"

She clears her throat. "Yep."

A challenge.

I twirl her hair again. Watch the way her breath catches, the way her fingers dig into her palms.

"Right." My voice is nothing but a low drawl now, slow and sharp at the edges. "Then I guess you won't mind if I-"

She slaps my hand away.

Bold.

I blink. She blinks. For half a second, we just stare at each other, the room thick with something I can't quite name.

Then she squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and gives me the most unconvincing smile I've ever seen.

"It was super nice to meet you, JUNGKOOK."

I just watch her, waiting.

Then she brushes past me. Not a second glance.

Just walks straight to her side of the room, opens her bag, and starts unpacking.

Like I didn't just have her pinned. Like I didn't just touch her and make her uncomfortable. Like I didn't just blowsmoke on her pretty face.

Like she's completely fine.

...What the fuck?

I take another slow drag from my cigarette, watching her through the thin haze of smoke.

Then I notice-her breath's coming out a little uneven. Her shoulders tense just slightly. Her fingers hesitate on the zipper of her bag.

Not just nervous, it's something else.

The next time I exhale, the smoke curls toward her again, and she flinches.

And then-fuck.

Her eyes water.

Not in a dramatic, tearful way. Not in an oh-no, I'm about to cry way. Just slight. Subtle. Like she's trying to ignore it.

She sniffles.

A sharp, guilty pang digs under my ribs before I can shove it down.

I should stop.

But fucking hell-she needs to leave.

She sniffles again, shifts her weight, still determined to keep unpacking like nothing's wrong.

Then, another cough. Harder. She bends forward slightly, like her lungs are fighting against her ribs. Like she's trying to breathe past something tight.

I freeze.

The realization slams into me, fast and unwanted.

Then she wheezes. A tiny, high-pitched sound, barely audible over the hum of the room, but it might as well be a fucking siren in my ears.

Asthma?

Her fingers curl around the strap of her bag like she's searching for something.