It's the silence of the air that's no longer weighted down by rain that rouses you from sleep. Shifting, you yawn sleepily and peel your eyes open, squinting against the rays of sun stabbing in like daggers from the windows.

As you come to, you feel the muscles of your neck and back protest from sitting up too long. Grimacing a little, you stretch your neck and force your eyes open fully against the harsh sunlight.

And you almost fall out of the bed.

Black doe eyes are clearly open and staring up at you through a narrow-eyed gaze. Jungkook's long body is trapped to the bed by your arm flung over his chest, his silky black hair still splayed over your lap.

Those charmingly-uneven lips of his are twisted into a shape that says he's half curious as to how he got into this position, and half pissed off that you've let him do it.

Actually, there's probably a bit more pissed off that curiosity.

Unfortunately.

"Good morning," says Jungkook in a raspy morning voice, dry and unamused. "Care to explain why I'm in your lap?"

Blinking in shock, it occurs to you that the man that came so unglued last night may not remember a single second of what happened.

He doesn't know.

It never occurred to you that there could be so much turmoil tucked into the back of his brain that when it's raining, it completely takes over his consciousness. It's like Jungkook was possessed utterly and totally by the unfortunate of his life.

You feel like you should tell him, just so he understands that you might have seen a little and know and a little about him that he may not have really wanted you to know.

"It rained last night," you say, all you can think of in explanation. "Do you tend to sleep talk? And walk? And act completely conscious when you actually aren't?"

Realization sparks in Jungkook's eyes.

His face goes pale.

You wait for him to recoil from you, roll off the bed and walk out in an attempt to regroup, explaining away with anger and rejection the events of last night in some misguided attempt to not acknowledge what you've witnessed.

You expect him to do his utmost best to escape you.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he almost knocks you out with bewilderment when he turns into you to hide his face, burying his emotions into your stomach and clutching the material of your shirt in a closed fist.

It's so polarly opposite to the usually sarcastic, condescending wall that he puts up, and although on any other day you might call him out for being sappy, he feels way too fragile in this moment to even attempt at making a humorous remark.

All you do is let your fingers fall down to card through the luxurious stands of his midnight hair. You just wait for him to gather himself, wait for him to take the lead and speak first.

It's normally easy to read emotions in the gaps and spaces of noise that make up silence.

A cloud of fury, a haunting mist of sadness, or the gentle, warm light of gratitude; those are easy to read. This silence...

It's so hard to read.

You can catch tiny flashes and hints as they shift and move through the murky heaviness of the quiet. You can sense a little bit of embarrassment, a flash of anger, and maybe even the barest, briefest hint of that warm gratitude.

Maybe more than just a hint, you think, as his fingers curl more tightly around the fabric of your shirt and the heat of his breath floods your skin through the fabric.

And you stay there.

What else can you do?

Any other day you might've attempted to wiggle out of the emotionally unstable situation by cracking a joke or throwing Jungkook a scathing insult, but you don't want to mess with the volatile atmosphere in this moment.

Instead, you keep your voice gentle when you try to speak to him. "Did you...do you want to talk about it?"

It's a tentative offer, one that you're not sure you necessarily want him to take.

Can you handle knowing the monsters that keep him up at night in a personal level?

But sure enough, as soon as the sound of your voice breaks the odd silence, Jungkook shakes his head against your stomach.

He sits up and clears his throat, looking away from you with a slight brush painted across the tops of his cheeks.

"Do I look like I want to all about it?" he asks gruffly. "I would tell you to use your head, but I know that it's already out of wack."

And he's back, prancing around before you with that stupid impenetrable wall of dry sarcasm hiding his true thoughts and feelings.

Karma strikes, and he winces slightly with pain and grasps his shoulder in the place where his wound is.

It takes everything in you not to snicker with satisfaction at the universe's retribution.

However, after that, Jungkook's visage does soften a little bit.

He forces himself to meet your eyes, his own gaze containing a melty softness that makes your tummy tingle, like eating strawberry filled in smooth, warm chocolate.

And you don't know why, but remembering that he has a mark identical to the one claiming your thigh that slides down the cut planes of his ribs and side makes that tingly feeling even worse.

"Thank you for staying with me," he says quietly, sincerely. "I know it probably wasn't very pretty."

It wasn't. "Any time. I still hate you, though."

When you say those words, it's not the same as it was before. There's no anger behind it, no true feelings of malice or frustration. It's more of a playful statement, more of a reassurance that you're not treating him differently after witnessing his most vulnerable state.

Jungkook grins a little ruefully, and says, "I know."

Something shifts between you.

Something important.

You remember that angry, hot, live-wire feeling from the day you took pictures together; the feeling that made you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

The feeling that floods through your being is a lot like that, but lacking in the anger side.

Not that it's gone completely; the man you're staring down is still an annoying, cocky little idiot that turns your blood to fire. He's just also now a man who's vulnerable and gentle, someone who can be sweet and grateful.

This feeling between you just became ten times more potent, and a hundred times more dangerous.

You can see it reflecting in Jungkook's eyes when he glances his tongue across his right lip ring, giving a flash of a silver ball piercing the middle of his tongue. His eyelids lower heavily over black eyes, which flash with a burning intensity.

The air between you is electrified and frozen still.

You can't help but let your gaze trace of him, skimming the broad expanse of his chest to the rolled-up sleeves of his buttoned shirt, where ridges of hard muscle rope the length of his forearm, covered in a mouthwatering layer of ink and golden skin.

Through the thin material of his shirt, you can spy the dark shapes of his tattoos racing across his shoulders, arms, and every inch of skin.

His black hair is mussed from sleep, bangs hanging into his black eyes to give him a roguish look, like a wind blown pirate ready to conquer the world. Ready to conquer everything.

Jungkook's eyes drop to your lips, and yours to his.

You can't think.

And then, just then, when you feel the lighting in the air reach a point of breaking, when you see the shift of Jungkook's shoulders as he starts to lean toward you, a piercing ring rips through the air.

Both of you almost jump out of your skin.

Huffing, Jungkook scrambles for his cell phone, angry grumbles spilling incoherently from his mouth, as you sit back and clutch your chest.

"What the frick," you gasp. "I almost peed myself!"

Ignoring you, Jungkook smashes the button on his phone and barks into the receiver, "What?"

There's a moment of silence, and then the phone explodes with sound.

"Did you just say 'what?' to me? To the man who's raised you? Where's the respect? You go and get stabbed, bloody up my carpet, and when I take care of you, you give me this trash?"

It's not on speaker, but you can hear Jin's voice as clearly as if he were in the room with you.

Jungkook's face is priceless.

Covering you mouth with your palm, you try not to laugh at his misfortune.

With a glare tossed at you, Jungkook meekly says, "I'm sorry, hyung. I didn't see who it was before I answered."

From then on, Jin's voice quiets, and all you can hear is Jungkook's side of the conversation. You watch his face morph from sheepish contriteness to a somber expression.

"Right," he says. "Be careful, hyung. See you soon."

He hangs up, and looks at you with serious eyes.

"Jin hyung and Hobi hyung were supposed to come over tonight," Jungkook says in a hard voice. "But they can't. They've got a tail. People are watching us more than ever, trying to get to you. They can't get anyone over here now, and they don't know when they'll be able to. We'll have to lay low for a while."

Swallowing at the news, you nod in compliance as your brain processes this information.

No one is going to come.

That means you and Jungkook really will be here alone for who knows how long, with this new thing hovering between you like a lightening-filled storm cloud ready to release a downpour.

You push your fingers through your hair in stress, wondering if you can weather this storm through, or if the wind and torrent will sweep you away into nothing.

[A/N]
Unedited
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