Y/N~
It's been a couple days since the whole bouquet-blasting, detention-fest fiasco. And guess what?
He's back.
Jeon Jungkook finally, finally came back to our dorm like nothing ever happened. Like he didn't treat me like a contagious disease for the past two weeks. Like he didn't avoid me like I was a cursed toad that burped glitter bombs.
I'd be mad—if I wasn't so goddamn relieved.
He even sits beside me again in class. Still grumpy. Still moody. Still acting like I chewed up his favorite quill. But he's there. And that's all that matters.
We don't talk much, of course. When I try to strike up a conversation, he gives me the world's shortest answers like "yeah," "no," or "whatever." But hey, that's one syllable more than I used to get.
And yes, he rolls his eyes so hard every time Jimin swings by with his dramatic declarations of love. Yesterday, it was a folded love note that bloomed into a paper flower mid-air and sang Baby One More Time in falsetto. This morning, it was a flying chocolate butterfly that landed right in my mashed potatoes.
I swear, Jimin's just showing off at this point. But it's working, because I giggle like a lovesick idiot every single time.
Jungkook? Not amused.
But the thing is—he doesn't chase Jimin away. He doesn't yell at me or leave the table. He just glares, mutters something under his breath, and continues eating like he's pretending it's not happening.
So yeah. He's warming up.
Slowly.
Grumpily.
Stubbornly.
But it's happening.
—
It's a breezy afternoon and Jungkook has Quidditch practice. Obviously, I'm there to watch. I always am.
I sit on the bleachers with a blanket, a book I'm not actually reading, and a basket of self-made lunch because I am the cutest, most supportive (and possibly slightly annoying) dormmate slash best friend slash ride or die.
When the team takes a break, I walk over to where Jungkook's chugging water next to Taehyung and Jimin. Jungkook's hair is damp with sweat and he looks exhausted.
I hand each of them a sandwich wrapped in parchment and tied with a little ribbon. Yes, I'm that extra.
"Bless your soul," Taehyung says, dramatically sniffing the sandwich like it's a sacred artifact.
Jimin winks and leans in with a smirk. "Is this a thank-you kiss kind of sandwich or just a handshake one?"
"Try it and you'll get a kick to the shin," Jungkook mutters mid-bite, not even looking up.
Jimin tries to steal a kiss from me and just like that—whack—jungkook's foot connects with Jimin's leg.
"Ow! Rude!" Jimin yelps but doesn't drop his sandwich. "You see what I suffer for you, baby?"
"Deserved," I say, trying not to laugh.
Jungkook chews like nothing happened, completely unapologetic. I'm starting to think his love language is passive-aggressive violence.
Later that night, our dorm room is quiet. Peacefully so. Jungkook and I are sprawled out on our beds, parchment and textbooks everywhere as we try to wrestle down our homework before curfew.
I'm deep into memorizing deadly poison formulas for Potions class when—
"So..." he starts.
I blink. Did he just... voluntarily speak to me?
Like finally???
"How's it going with Jimin?"
I nearly drop my quill.
I turn to look at him, heart thudding. He's lying on his stomach, chin resting on his crossed arms like he's just casually chatting—but his ears are turning pink.
A slow grin creeps up my face. "You wanna know how my boyfriend is treating me?"
He groans. "Oh my god, don't make it weird—"
"Nope, too late," I say, and in a blur I'm off my bed and leaping into his, landing right on top of his blankets. "You opened the door, I'm walking in."
He groans louder but doesn't shove me off. I plop down and curl my legs under me. "Well... he's actually been really sweet even though he's a Slytherin. That part, I still find it hard to believe. He also makes me laugh, he listens when I ramble about weird books, and he's very good at kissing."
Jungkook gives me a flat look. "Disgusting."
I giggle.
There's a pause.
Then, to my absolute shock, he lets out a long sigh and lowers his head... onto my lap.
My heart soften.
He just lays there, face half-hidden by his hair, eyes staring at the edge of the blanket.
"I missed you," he says softly.
The air shifts.
He keeps going, voice low. "I was so mad. Like, irrationally mad. I didn't know what to do with it. I just... didn't want to lose you."
I feel my throat tighten.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "For being a dick."
I shake my head, running my fingers through his hair gently. "I'm not mad at you, Jungkook and you won't ever lose me. I can promise you that."
His eyes flick up to mine. "You should be."
"Well I'm not," I whisper. "I missed you too, Kookoo."
He doesn't say anything after that, just exhales and lets himself relax a little more but I see the faint smile in the corner of his lips. I keep playing with his hair, both of us sitting there in a kind of quiet that feels warm and familiar.
Like home.