Cleaning the guest room had been more work than I'd thought.

Namjoon and I had ended up finishing at past eight, after which he packed his stuff and took off. In other words, we wouldn't be seeing him around for the next few days.

I'd gone to bed the previous night by nine and didn't blink an eye until seven in the morning with a full bladder and still tired eyes, after which I went right back to sleep. My back ached from carrying stuff to the garage while Namjoon alternated between complaining about the workload and telling me about the new guy he was interested in; an aspiring chef he'd met after I abandoned him at the Library.

Mum didn't wake me up either. She knew I was tired so she let me sleep in. When I eventually went downstairs by past ten, she'd done the whole chores and was frying pancakes on the stove. She rejected my help with cooking and asked me to sit and talk to her, instead.

I told her about Mr. Cho quitting and how the school was desperate to find a replacement. She had liked him, especially because he always greeted her 'Good morning' in English. It was strange, the way he left. No one knew why he'd resigned, but it had been abrupt. He'd taught us first and second period in the morning and by afternoon, he was no longer our teacher.

We ate breakfast that morning while chatting about everything we could think of, one topic leading to another, until it led to one that I wasn't ready to hear.

"I spoke to your father's... wife last night," she said, shocking me, because I hadn't been expecting such sour topic on a beautiful morning.

I took a sip of my coffee and shrugged. "That's nice." Wife. She'd called him his wife. I didn't know how she'd managed to keep a straight face as she said the word.

"Jin," she called my name in the same way she did when she had something she wanted to say and expected me to be reasonable about it.

The thing was, I didn't want to be reasonable about any issue concerning my father. I didn't want to hear about him. "Mum, please."

"Jin, he's sick."

She went on to explain to me that he had Pancreatic cancer. They'd found out a few days ago. It was late, of course. Pancreatic cancer was always detected late. He didn't have much time.

I sat and listened to her, losing my appetite. Then I went upstairs, showered, packed my backpack and headed to the Library. Mum called me back, she didn't think I was in the right frame of mind to leave the house.

"I'm okay," I told her. "It's his family's problem to worry about, not ours." I didn't think she bought it, but I wasn't thinking what she thought. I just wanted to do something, be anywhere else. So, I walked left the house and walked the distance to the public library.

I gathered all the materials I needed. I could do some more reading on Goryeo and Joseon era. I always thought they were fascinating. But the texts lay on the table before me unopened, unattended. My eyes were glued to the scribblings on the wooden table. I wasn't seeing them, but they were there.

He was dying...

A brief flashback of seven years old me with my little hand in his big one as he led me to the park where we both played football every Saturday appeared in my head. I didn't want to nurse it. I refused to nurse it, but the images kept flashing through my head, like a montage. I shut my eyes, burying my face in my hands trying to push them away but my effort was useless.

I got to my feet, abruptly. I grabbed the books I'd borrowed and put them back. I wasn't sure they were the right section, but I left them there and bolted out of that building, but my legs wouldn't carry me further. I collapsed against the wall just outside the library, looking around but my head couldn't register any faces.

I was suffocating.

The Library, my home, the streets... everywhere I went felt like it was collapsing over my head and I just wanted to escape it all. I wanted it to stop. But my heart sprinted.

I pulled out my phone and instantly went to the message app. I needed someone. It felt like a huge weight had been dropped on my shoulders and it was weighing me down, making my legs feel like jello.

Hoseok | I started to type but my hands shook terribly. I couldn't.

Everything was blurry. I couldn't see anything in front of me. I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes because it was all I could do.

"Are you okay?"

The voice startled me and I was jumping before I could control myself. I turned and there he stood, his brown eyes watching me worriedly.

"I saw you run out," he continued when I didn't answer his first question.

Subtly, I wiped my eyes quickly, blinking back my tears. I cleared my throat before speaking. "It's you again."

"We have to stop meeting like this. You running and me chasing after you," He said with a smile, trying to sound as casual as he could. But the look in his eyes was anything but casual.

"Or rather, me living my life and you not minding your own business."

"Well, I'm attracted to you. All I can do is follow you."

He was really direct. I didn't know if I liked that or if it made me feel uncomfortable. "How did that even happen? You've seen me just once, Jungkook."

He smiled impressively. "You remember my name. Also, once is more than enough for an attraction to form. It's not rocket science. It's more..."

"Chemistry?" I asked, waiting for him to concur. Waiting to tell him that chemistry was, in fact, science.

He chuckled, a beautiful soft sound. Somehow, everything about this Jungkook seemed harmless, yet my guts cautioned me to run. "You see, I'm not the only one who feels the chemistry."

"I don't even know you. How can I feel something for you?"

"Okay." He nodded, licking his lips. "Why don't we get to know each other then? It doesn't have to mean anything...yet."

"Look, Jungkook, I'm sorry but I'm not in the mood for whatever this is."

He nodded like he completely understood me, yet he took a step towards me. "Jin, I'm not a therapist or whatever, but obviously something is bothering you. And whenever something bothers me, I usually seek a distraction. And I'm willing to be that to you right now. A distraction."

I wasn't sure what he meant but he looked serious, sounded serious and his words my made my stomach queasy.

"You can take advantage of my offer. I don't care what you want to do. I like you and I can't stop thinking about you. All I want is to be around you, so do whatever you want with me but please don't ask me to leave."

Oh, God, he was serious. I swallowed.  I couldn't bring myself to look away from him, his eyes, his lips. Everything about him was intriguing. I'd never met anyone so open, so like him. He was different. I wasn't sure how to feel.

But I couldn't stop it. My heart. Racing. But this time it was from anxiety.

"If you want to talk, I'll listen. If you need my advice, I'll do the best I can. If you want to drink, perfect. I know a great bar. If you want to dance, my friend owns an incredible club that's open 24/7." He takes a step closer, bringing the space between us to a few inches. His breath—a tangle of mint and smoke—blows warmly against my face. I wanted to pull away, I wanted to push him so far but at the same time, I... didn't. "If you want to just hookup, then ok."

I narrowed my gaze at him, raising a brow. "Hookup?"

He scoffed, smiling. "That was a multiple choice offer, Jin. You could have picked any other option."

"Jungkook, I-" I had no words. Me, Jin, who always had something to say about everything. I had nothing to say to someone I was meeting for the second time who was offering me sex, amongst other things. Jungkook had rendered me speechless in less than two minutes.

"What do you think? We could just get out of here and chill."

He was bold. That was something that could easily be misinterpreted as smug or arrogant. But Jungkook wasn't arrogant. He was just confident. Someone who knew what he wanted and went after it. It wasn't completely appalling, so all I could bring myself to do was nod.

I followed Jungkook down the brightly lit hallway, every sensible cell in my body screaming at me to turn around and get the hell out of here. But I walked on, behind this stranger whose last name I didn't even know.

I didn't know what I was doing. For the first time in my life I was ignoring my instincts and doing something I knew for certain wasn't right.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

He stopped at a door, pressed his palm against a pad, a digital keypad appeared then he inputed a series of numbers. He grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, the inside flooded with light as soon as his feet touched the floor.

The suite was large and clean. The first thing I noticed was a grand piano in the centre, just under the spiral staircase. It was white, more off-white than white-white. The couch was long and white. Every inch of the floor was covered in a grey rug. The minute my feet touched them, it felt like I stepped on a cloud. Soft and comfortable.

"This is beautiful," I admitted, speaking for the first time since we got into his car outside the Library.

"You think so?"

It was a beautiful apartment. Very put together like him, to be honest. "I think it's cool."

He smiled, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on a large maroon colored chair next to a tall white shelf. "I'm glad you like it. I'm trying to impress you."

"I'm not easily impressed," I said, walking towards the shelf. There were books of different sizes and lengths in various languages, paperbacks and hardcovers, arranged vertically on the shelf.

I spotted a few historical books, the exact texts I needed to study for my newly found interest in old Korean monarchism. He was a reader.

I wouldn't lie, I was impressed. Only a little.

There were framed pictures of him. The dude had traveled places. There was one of him in front of the Eiffel tower, one with the Pyramid of Giza in the background, another in front of the Grand Canyon.

"Which one was your favourite?" I asked, dropping a picture of him and a foreign music group I couldn't recognise. "Which country did you like the most?"

"Italy," he said without a second's pause.

I turned to find him setting two glasses on the table, an open wine in his hand. Never drink anything that was not open in front of you. I always told Namjoon that. He was the one who loved going out with sketchy men, so I had sang that mantra to him a million times. But this dude handed me a glass of wine he had brought in already corked and I sniffed it before taking a sip, savouring every sweet pleasure, every sour taste.

I was letting myself go. I was not thinking straight or thinking at all, I was just acting.

"What's so great about it?" I asked, settling myself on the couch, feeling myself sink into its softness.

"Something about there just made me feel at home. It was after I left France but being in Italy felt like I hadn't left France. It was strangely alike, giving me strong nostalgia but still intriguing in everything that was new and unique about it. Everything about Italy was so beautiful, so picturesque. The people were kind to a fault. The museum was perfect and the food—" He paused, shutting his eyes and I could see him transport back to his visit to Italy.

God, he was breathtaking. Maybe I had lied earlier. Maybe I hadn't. Maybe the attraction had began when he told me to take advantage of him. Maybe it was when he stood so close to me I could taste his breath. Maybe it was coming here and seeing he was more than the admirer dude from the library.

"Jin," he called, snapping me from my over invading thoughts. He was looking at me now but with a smile, one that showed he still remembered everything. "You haven't enjoyed pasta if you haven't eaten it in Italy. It's the best."

"That sounds wonderful."

"It is. Maybe one day I'll take you."

"Maybe I'll hold you to your words."

"Maybe I'll pray that you do."

I smiled. "Do you always say exactly what you feel?" I had to ask because it was weird but at the same time, it was interesting. I think I was starting to like that about Jungkook.

"Of course. If I don't say what I feel, the next minute might be too late and I'll live in regret for the rest of my life. I'd rather be a fool and say my mind, than not and be tortured with the thought of what if." He looked sincere as he spoke, like he'd learn this lesson the hard way.

"I feel like there's a story behind this logic."

A small smile slipped on his reddened lips confirming my assumption. He brought his glass to his lips and took a sip then turned to look at me. "When I was fifteen my mum was really sick, she was in the hospital for a long time. Every morning I went to the hospital to see her and after school, I went back to the hospital before going home. One morning, I went to the hospital and she was looking good, not like someone who the doctor was certain only had a few weeks to live."

The smile on his face had turned more sad than casual. He bit his lips occasionally. I knew where this story was headed. I felt guilty for bringing it up.

"I stayed with her for a moment then I had to go to school. I wanted to tell her that I loved her. I felt the urge to say it to her that day more than I ever felt. And twice I started to say it but my mum and I were never the type to say stuff like that, you know what? So, I left after telling her 'see you later'. I felt, maybe, sometime in the future I would tell her. So, I went to school and I was having a normal boring day as usual, and by fourth period, the principal called me out of class."

The smile had completely disappeared. Jungkook was staring off into space, reliving the painful moment that had moulded him to become whom he was. I wanted to reach over and touch his face, hold his hand, pull him away from the thought, make him look at me and not remember how a single moment of silence had caused him to have such regret.

But I couldn't, I wasn't bold enough to close the gap between us. So, I sat there, watching him, listening to the pain in his beautiful voice.

"He said my uncle wanted me to come to the hospital. I didn't understand why and I didn't even think that something had happened with her. I just took it casually, grabbed my bag and left. Trust me, I was just happy to leave school early. But when I got to the hospital, she was gone." He shook his head. "She was dead, then I said it. She couldn't hear me anymore but that was when I had gathered the courage to tell her that I loved her."

He chuckled, swirling his drink casually. "That was the last time I held back on my words. Now, I have no filter. I say it as it comes to me because I have lived the rest of my life trying to make up for that regret that is deep rooted. So, forgive me for being so forward when I say I think I'm going to absolutely fall for you, Jin."

I wasn't sure what to say towards his words but I blurted out the first thing that came to me. "My dad is dying." Maybe it was because I was trying to dissolve the buzzing in my stomach from his confession or because he had shared a sad story and I felt I owed him one.

His brows knitted and he looked genuinely concerned. "I'm sorry."

"Pancreatic cancer," I said. Admitting it outwards tugged at my emotions. "I don't want to feel bad for him. I want to tell him that he deserves it for what he did to me and my mum. I want to tell him it was his new family's problem and not mine. But it hurts."

A tear fell from my eyes, I wiped it away immediately, chewing my lips. I couldn't look at Jungkook. I felt embarrassed for crying in front of him. So, I stared at the glass coffee table, a transparent vase with a bouquet of flower in the centre of it, a few magazines neatly stacked on one corner.

"I don't want him to die. I hate him so much and I hate that he left my mum and I to start a new family but I'd rather not see him again, but still know he's breathing and living somewhere. The thought of him ceasing to exist is just too painful."

It didn't take another word from me for Jungkook to shift towards me and pull me against him. His spicy cologne laced with every breath I took.

"I don't know what to do."

Jungkook's arms tightened around me and I'm not sure when my arms wrapped around him but I was sobbing against him, hugging him like he was likely going to vanish into thin air. The tears poured like a waterfall, drenching Jungkook's shirt as I shamelessly cried.

He didn't say anything, he just held me, running his hand softly over my back. My heart hurt. I felt so much pain in me than I had ever felt in my life. It was worse than the day he left us. Worse than the day we found out he was married and never coming back. My heart felt like it was slowly being cut into with a blunt knife.

When I eventually gathered the strength to pull away, Jungkook didn't let me go. He held unto me, looking at me worriedly, his eyes almost confusing me. He looked pained. As if, he was hurt to see me like that. But why would he be?

Jungkook didn't know me. He couldn't possibly be falling for me like he said he would. It didn't happen that fast. There was no way. He was just caught up in the moment, as I was.

In a few hours, I'd felt things with Jungkook than I had ever felt with anyone. I had felt pain, his and mine. I'd felt his excitement. I'd felt want—his and truthfully, mine as well. That was more than I'd experienced with anyone in my life.

And as we sat there, just looking at each other, all I could think about was one thing: his lips. I wanted to feel it against mine. In fact, my heart raced even faster at how much I wanted to kiss him. So, I took his own advice and went for it.

I fisted his shirt, pulled him in and pressed my lips against his, completely knocking me out of my senses.