• 9- ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ •

Heaven.

After all the shit I've done, all the bad choices, all the reckless, stupid things-I'm surprised I made it here.

Because this? This has to be heaven.

I've never felt anything like this before.

My head is buried into something soft, and there's this scent-sweet, familiar. It wraps around me, settles in my lungs, and something inside me sighs in contentment. This smell. I think it might just be my new favourite smell.

My eyes snap open.

The first thing I register is warmth. The second is softness. The third-fuck.

My head is resting between Y/N's breasts, her soft little hands behind my head, holding me there- like I belong. Her slow, even breaths brush against the top of my head as she snores softly, completely unaware.

Fuck.

It's comfortable.

It's dangerous.

It's better than any hit, any drug.

It's heaven.

My upper body is half on top of her, one hand gripping the bare skin of her thigh. I flex my fingers, and fucking hell, why the hell is her skin so damn soft?

My chest rises and falls, heavy, slow.

I should move.

This is Y/N, for fuck's sake.

Now that I know how this feels, I might just keep going at it.

Fuck.

Y/N shifts beneath me, stirring awake, and I freeze, shutting my eyes like I'm still asleep.

"What the actual fuck," she mumbles, voice thick with sleep, half-dazed. It sounds sweet, so fucking sweet like honey- her voice.

And then, she goes back to snoring.

For a second, I don't register what I'm doing.

Because I do it without thinking-

I nuzzle in, burying my face deeper, my arm tightening around her waist like it's the most natural thing in the world. A low hum rumbles in my chest. This feels good. Too good.

And then-

My brain catches up.

Mhmndksk-what the fuck.

I jolt upright so fast I nearly fall off the damn bed. My body moves before my mind does, scrambling backward, breath coming in sharp, ragged exhales.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Y/N blinks up at me, still bleary with sleep, her hair messy, her full lips parted in confusion.

I stare at her. She stares at me.

Y/N is still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her hair an absolute mess, sticking up in places like she's been rolling around in a dream. Her lips are swollen from sleep, her skin warm, golden in the early morning light.

She looks-

Beautiful.

And I hate that I notice.

And then-

"You cuddled me," she accuses, voice thick with disbelief.

Back to being annoying as fuck.

I scoff, running a hand through my hair like I can scrub the whole thing out of my brain. "Yeah, in your dreams."

Y/N's eyes narrow, still groggy but definitely awake now. "No, no, no. You snuggled into me. I felt it." She presses a hand to her chest like she's been personally victimized. "You fucking hummed."

I cross my arms. "You were literally holding my head there, ARCHER. If anyone should be explaining, it's you."

She gasps. "I was asleep! You were the one draped over me like a human-sized weighted blanket. And you nuzzled. I know a nuzzle when I feel one."

I make a face. "That wasn't a nuzzle."

"It was a nuzzle."

"I was just-adjusting."

Y/N gives me a long, hard stare. Then she sits up, rubbing her eyes. "You hummed," she repeats, like she's trying to wrap her head around it. "Like a fucking content cat."

"Okay, you need to stop saying that word."

Y/N suddenly brightens, like she just unlocked a new level of ammunition against me. "Oh my God." She points at me. "You liked it."

My entire body tenses. "Shut up."

"You liked it," she sing-songs, grinning now, wide awake.

"Heavens, ARCHER, drop it." I stand up, but she's already laughing, throwing herself back onto my bed like this is the best thing that's ever happened to her.

"Oh, I am never letting this go," she cackles. "Big, bad, scary JEON JUNGKOOK is a cuddler."

I glare. "Say that again and see what happens."

She sits up, looking me dead in the eye, and grins. "Cudd-"

I launch a pillow straight at her face. And then another, for good measure.

She yelps, swatting it away, but before I can feel remotely victorious, she grabs the pillow next to her and whacks me with it.

"Oh, you're dead," I growl, grabbing another.

She lets out a shriek of laughter as I go after her, full offense, smacking her with every pillow within reach. That oughta shut her fucking mouth. But Y/N? She's fucking crazy. She dodges, tackles me, full-body slams me with a pillow, knocking me back onto the mattress.

I lose my balance, my back hitting the bed, and before I can move, she's on top of me, straddling my waist, grinning down like she just won a goddamn championship.

"Pinned," she announces, smug.

I grip her waist, flipping us over so fast her breath stutters.

"Not anymore."

For a second, I don't move. For a second, I register the way she feels beneath me, her body small, warm, her lips parted in surprise, her hazel eyes shining.

Her smile flickers.

And I? I need to get the fuck out of here.

I push off of her, standing abruptly, running a hand over my face. "I'm done with this conversation."

Y/N, still sprawled on the bed, grins up at me, eyes dancing with mischief. "Sure you are, cuddlebug."

I grab a pillow and launch it at her head.

. . . . .

I storm out of class, my entire body thrumming with irritation. Fucking hell, I hate this. I hate every second of it.

Business classes are a goddamn nightmare, filled with self-important assholes who already have their whole fucking futures mapped out, and professors who drone on about concepts I don't give a shit about.

It's suffocating.

I shove my hands into my pockets, jaw clenched so hard it aches. Yesterday's argument with my father is still ringing in my head, fueling my already shitty mood.

Responsibility, JUNGKOOK. Discipline. You can't just waste your life away pretending you have a choice. His voice, cold and clipped, playing on repeat like a broken record. Like I'm some goddamn disappointment for not wanting the life they shoved down my throat.

I exhale sharply, shaking my head. I need to get out of my own head before I start punching walls.

Then-my phone rings.

I don't even need to check the screen. I already know.

Fucking hell.

I answer without thinking, pressing the phone to my ear. "Yeah?"

"JUNGKOOK."

My mother's voice is smooth, controlled, with that underlying edge of disapproval she's perfected over the years. I run a hand through my hair, already exhausted.

"Mother," I mutter, eyes narrowing at the ground.

There's a pause. The kind that's more loaded than an actual sentence.

"What kind of son doesn't invite his own parents to his new home?" she finally says, voice laced with that calm, polite kind of disappointment that somehow makes me feel worse than if she'd just yelled. "Is that how we raised you?"

My fingers tighten around my phone. "It's just a fucking room."

"Language, JUNGKOOK."

I exhale through my nose. "It's just a room," I repeat, flatly, voice void of emotion.

"And yet, you refuse to let us see it." She hums. "Are you hiding something?"

I scoff, shaking my head. "Oh, absolutely. I'm running an underground crime ring."

"Don't be ridiculous." A beat of silence. Then, "this is about respect. Your father and I-"

I already know where this is going.

"-want to make sure I'm still following the script," I finish for her, my voice sharp. "I know. Major in business, graduate, take over the company, marry some soulless socialite you two pick out for me, live a life I fucking hate. I got the memo."

My mother sighs like I'm the exhausting one. "You should be grateful, JUNGKOOK. Do you know how many people would kill for the opportunities you have?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah? Let them have it."

She goes quiet, and I swear I can feel the disappointment rolling off her through the phone. "We did not raise you to be like this."

"No," I say, voice low. "You raised me to be a goddamn puppet."

"Watch your tone."

My lips curl. "Oh, my tone is the problem now?"

She exhales sharply, clearly done with my shit. "We'll discuss this in person. Your father and I will visit next weekend."

Something in my brain snaps. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"JUNGKOOK."

"Mother."

"This isn't up for debate. You will text me your address."

I grind my teeth so hard I think I might break a fucking molar. "Over my dead body."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mother," I mutter. "Looking forward to it."

I hang up before she can say anything else, gripping my phone so tightly I might crack the screen. My whole body is rigid with frustration, my head pounding.

I need to hit something. A punching bag. A wall. Anything.

Instead, I let out a harsh breath, shove my phone into my pocket, and storm back toward my dorm, still thrumming with rage.

. . . . .

The moment I reach the door, I stop.

My hand hovers over the handle, fingers twitching, but I don't push it open.

Fuck.

I can't go in like this.

Not wired, not strung out, not with my head still pounding from last night's mistake. I don't remember what happened. And that's never a good sign.

The high was supposed to help, supposed to clear the static, but instead, I woke up feeling worse-heavier, head fucked, stomach turning in on itself.

And Y/N-fuck, Y/N.

She doesn't need that shit around her.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. My fingers clench at the roots before I let them drop to my side.

I need a cigarette.

With a sharp turn, I head back down the hall, toward the stairwell, feet moving on autopilot.

My muscles are tight, jaw aching from how hard I've been clenching it since my mother's call. The weight of my father's words is still pressing into my skull, a constant reminder of everything I fucking hate.

I shove open the rooftop door.

The city opens up in front of me.

Neon lights flicker, distant and hazy, blinking against the skyline. The streets below are a tangled mess of headlights and taillights, weaving through the dark like veins in the concrete. The air up here is crisper, clearer, with just a hint of smoke from some bar down the block.

I reach into my pocket, fingers brushing against the familiar box. I flick it open, pull out a cigarette, and light it with a sharp inhale.

The first drag burns.

I exhale, watching the smoke curl into the night, dissolving into the sky.

Up here, the world feels quieter. Distant.

Time slips. I don't know how long I stand there, burning through cigarette after cigarette, staring out at the city like it holds answers I'll never fucking get.

I close my eyes, exhaling slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night air. My mind is still a mess, a tangled web of expectations, responsibilities, and the suffocating weight of a future I never fucking wanted.

Then I hear a shuffle.

I turn my head.

She's standing at the rooftop entrance, half in the shadows, hazel eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

Her hair is messy, her oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, legs bare beneath it. She hesitates, like she's been caught somewhere she isn't supposed to be.

"I'm just gonna go," Y/N blurts, already stepping back.

I don't say anything.

Y/N lingers, chewing on her lip, like she's debating something. Then- she exhales, shoulders dropping. "You know what? I'm just gonna stay."

I take another slow drag, watching as she steps closer, the city lights casting a soft glow against her face.