Chapter Two

Cupid's Psyche

Wordcount: 2648

°.♥🍒♥.°

"Have you seen number three?"

Even if he hears you, Jungkook doesn't answer. Instead, he opens the fridge door, grabs your block of cheese and puts it on top of the fridge. It's too high for you to reach without awkwardly clambering up onto one of the stools by the breakfast bar, but if you don't, residual heat from the cooling system will make it sweat.

In the kitchen of your apartment, it's approximately sixteen days, twelve hours and two minutes since you found out Kim Mingyu is a good-for-nothing scumbag of a boyfriend—sorry, ex-boyfriend. Not that you're keeping count.

Just like you're not counting his calls—23—nor his texts—61—nor the times he's knocked at your door—5 (though you don't know about the fifth time, 'cause you weren't home and Jungkook hadn't told you).

He decided that it was an act of kindness not telling you. He also knows that if you find out he didn't tell you, it'll only serve to annoy you. A win-win. His consciousness is clean, and his fraught need to irritate you is satisfied.

"Deaf as well as ugly?" You question.

He turns to face you, quite positively offended.

"Not deaf, just ugly, then," you suppose. "Have you seen Three?"

"Just knock on his door," Jungkook says. "I see him as often as you do."

Which is next to never. Sometimes you hear his door go in the middle of the night, and other times you'll walk down the corridor and recognise the far-too-heavy silage of his aftershave. Where he goes, you never know, but you're certain it's never to his lectures.

If your theories are correct—which you know they are, because there's a bunch of business cards in your kitchen with his phone number on them and nothing else, that are no doubt given to people at clubs—Three is a dealer.

After a week of sobbing, and another week of numbness, all you want is a little bit of peace, and figure that getting high is one way to do it. You don't smoke often, and haven't at all since you arrived at university, but literally who is gonna stop you?

You're single. Are free. Have no obligations to anything nor anyone.

But it's for those exact reasons that you really shouldn't be spending your Friday night alone.

The issue is you started university attached at the hip to a boy who had taken a liking to someone else's hips, quite literally.

When your coursemates had asked you to hang out in the early weeks, you'd always had plans with Mingyu, and eventually they stopped asking you to come out with them. It's your own fault, really.

Like Mingyu, most people seem to have made fast friends with their flatmates. You're hardly gonna go knock on Jungkook's door for a girly chat, number three would probably give you some pity coke, and the other girls in your place may as well be ghosts. You still haven't seen them.

And so, you'll take pity coke if that's all you can get, but what you're really after is just a little weed to chill your brain the fuck out. You're gonna lose your mind if you spend another night alone thinking about Mingyu.

Jungkook goes to leave the room, but sighs. "He went out a couple hours ago. I haven't heard him come back yet."

When you glance back up at him, he seems somewhat sincere. Knowing the way his ears can practically hear blood pumping through veins, you know he must be right.

"Okay," you nod, naively trusting his words.

He doesn't nod back. Just turns away. When you hear his door click shut, you slink down on the sofa, entirely alone. There's an empty silence to the room; an echoing reminder of just how isolating your relationship truly was.

This is not how you expected to spend your Friday nights at university—but you also have no idea how the fuck to rectify it.

And as you sit up, you also realise that all of the barstools have been moved. They're normally around the counter. Five of them, as if you'd ever all be eating at the same time.

Which means your cheese is being held hostage atop of the fridge with no way for you to reclaim it.

"Oh, you asswipe," you grumble, then raise your voice, but not too loud. You know you don't need to. Know he's listening. "Come get my cheese down, you annoying prick!"

°.♥🍒♥.°

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross once declared there to be five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and, finally, acceptance. On a video call half the country away, Kitty has tried explaining this to you in earnest, but it's falling on deaf ears.

Three months into her psychology degree, and one recently read On Death and Dying sitting next to her bedside table, she's decided that you're in stage two.

"Kübler-Ross was studying terminally ill people, Kits," the third blind mouse of your trio, Imogen, rolls her eyes. "She's hardly dying."

"People die of heartbreak, you know!" Kitty argues back as you pour the remainder of your wine into your glass.

Kitty—Katy, who hasn't gone by her given name since her cat-fixation at the ripe old age of seven—and Imogen have been your ride or dies since as far back as you can remember. Have seen you through all of the big things in life, as have you, them.

Awkward first dates, first kisses, break ups, the all-encompassing teenage fixation on the concept of virginities, and the never-ending disappointment of boys, no matter how handsome they may be. In fact, especially the handsome ones. They always seem to have an ego that outweighs their morals.

Jungkook is a great example of this ghastly combination. Objectively gorgeous, horrendous personality. If anything, his personality detracts from his looks.

Venus spent a little extra time on him, admittedly, but Mars must've played a part, too. Tarnished him with a combative need to win. God of war seems like an apt influence for him.

Classicists say Cupid is the only son of Venus and Mars, but somewhere along the lines, you're certain you'll find Jeon Jungkook on the family tree, too.

"I'm not dying," you eventually reply. "And I am angry—but I'm just baffled more than anything. Who goes to university for the sole intention of making a relationship last, only to cheat?! It makes no bloody sense!"

"I think you're still in denial, to be honest. You can flip-flop," Kitty says. "The stages aren't linear."

"And they also don't apply here," Imogen interjects. "Babe, he's a prick. That's the long and the short of it. So, you can spend your time wondering why or you can just accept it—"

"That's stage five. She isn't there yet," Kitty interrupts, still hell-bent on pushing her stages of grief agenda. At least she'll ace the coursework she's doing on the concept, if nothing else.

"Kitty!" Imogen laughs, as her fairy lights twinkle behind her in the small square window she inhabits on your laptop screen. "I know you don't like your housemate, but he's always going out isn't he? Maybe he's got some hot friends you can use as a distraction?"

"It's been two weeks," you pout, not ready to even think about moving on.

The blood in your heart is as sour as the milk that you've tricked Jungkook into consuming on multiple occasions. To get your heart racing would be to ensure cardiac arrest.

"No it hasn't," Imogen frowns. "You'd been saying for weeks that things feel off with Mingyu. You've joked about him cheating on you a few too many times for it to have just been a joke, babe. You knew."

Maybe you did. Maybe you were just looking for an excuse to end up at his place on a day you weren't scheduled to be there. Maybe you were just too cowardly to confront him about his change in behaviour and constructed a scenario in which you knew you'd catch him out.

Frowning, you take a sip on your wine. Or a glug would probably be a more accurate measure, for you finish it in one.

"I literally sacrificed so much time I could have been making new friends on him," you shamefully whine. Annoyance takes place where you think heartbreak should be. "Now I'm lonely, I'm bored, I'm unloved—and worst of all, I have to listen to that asshole housemate of mine fulfil all of those needs. It's like he's rubbing it in for the fun of it."

Jungkook didn't have anyone around the night after you found out Mingyu had been cheating, but you also know he has lectures on Friday mornings. You don't think it was out of consideration for you, but rather convenience for himself.

He shares lectures with Mingyu. Are on the same course. They could have become friends, you think, if Jungkook wasn't truly insufferable, but maybe they'll discover a mutual interest in being awful to you.

"Okay, so shag your housemate," Kitty shrugs.

Gagging, you make sure to let your contempt be known.

"What?" Kitty laughs. "He's hot right? Maybe that's what you need for acceptance to come—a shag with a truly awful man."

"I'd rather die," you assure them, and decide against telling them about the way you'd practically begged him to fuck you in the immediate aftermath of the Mingyu drama. It's too mortifying to even think about. It's not like you really meant it. "He lasts like two seconds, anyways. What's the point? He's literally the wo—"

A sharp knock of thick knuckles against your door pulls you from your conversation, head whipping around to see the handle of your door is pushed down before you can even get out of your chair.

Waltzing straight on in, Jeon Jungkook has no right being in your room—especially not in a pair of low-slung sweats and without a shirt to cover his dignity. Though the lighting in your room is dark, it only accentuates his defined abs in the webcam as he intrudes in on your call.

Standing behind you, Jungkook stoops his posture, strong arms either side of your body as his chin rests just above your shoulder. Tattoos trail up one of his arms, and his hair is dishevelled from the workout he'd finished a little while ago. He's yet to shower for his night out.

In fact, he was just about to get one, until he heard the chatter through his bedroom walls.

He isn't touching you, but he is keeping you caged in—and from the looks on your friends faces, it is just as hot as it feels.

"Ladies," he greets with a nod, lip ring glistening in the low light. He glances at their screen names, just to really amp it up a little. "Kitty, Imogen—a pleasure."

They're both rendered a little speechless.

"Just thought I'd let you know that little old Lacey here has already asked me to shag her, and I said no," he states all rather plainly. "So don't believe her bullshit—but if you're ever in town, don't be strangers. I'll give you the best two seconds of your lives."

He presses his lips into a kissy pout, and graces the air with that it's like to receive his touch. Smirking as he walks away, you're about the launch into a defence when Imogen calls him back.

"Wait! Jungkook, right?" Her voice crackles through the speakers.

He pauses, broad back divine in the low light. Turning, brow cocked, he replies, "Yes?"

"You don't have to shag her—but take her out with you tonight," Imgeon proposes.

Immediately, you let out a stubborn, "No!"

"I'm good thanks," Jungkook smirks, a little entertained by the desperation of it all. "She'd cramp my style."

"Fuck you," you spit, but Jungkook continues on smiling. Is so unaffected by you cursing him out that you may as well just be saying hello.

"Hear me out—" Imogen begins, but is interrupted.

"I'll make you a deal," Jungkook counters. "I'll take her out with me tonight, if you both promise to come visit soon."

The girls are already scheduled to be visiting you. It had been arranged earlier on in the call, while Jungkook must've been in the kitchen, away from earshot of your conversation. They've both got end of semester exams coming up, but in two weeks time, you'll all be free. Train tickets are booked, plans are set in stone.

"They can't," you quickly reply. "Shame."

"We'll be there in a fortnight," Kitty simply states, 'cause she knows you can't rot away inside for another night.

"So drag her out with you tonight, please," Imogen begs. "And we'll make it up to you."

Jungkook looks at them with pursed lips. Glances down to you, and is surprised to see you're not scowling, but that your eyes are wide. It's almost like you're begging him to say no.

And so he does the only thing that feels right: annoys you even further.

"Alright. The two of you, follow me on insta," he asserts. "So I can message you if she gets unbearable tonight."

"Deal," Imogen grins.

Jungkook nods, and turns on his heel. Is out of your door, letting it slam shut as you turn to look at your friends in horror.

"Oh, give over," Imogen laughs. "A boy who looks like that has friends who no doubt look even better—and if you wanna piss him off, all you need to do is get with one of his friends. Two birds, one stone."

"I'm not ready—"

"Nobody ever is."

"It's been two weeks—"

"And Mingyu was balls deep two months ago, most likely."

Scowling at the thought of it all, you're pleased that anger flashes through your system where hurt should be. As much as you hate to admit it, they're right.

"Oi, Lacey," you hear Jungkook shouting through the wall. "We're going out in half an hour. Get dressed. Sort your face out."

"Fuck you!" You call right back.

Yet half an hour later, after running a dozen outfits through with the girls, you're standing outside his open bedroom door as he grabs his wallet and spritzes himself with his aftershave. Bed made, he's remarkably tidy. Clean, no matter how filthy his sexual history may be.

"You're not fucking my friends," you grumble up the hallway. "I don't care what they said. When they come to visit, you stay away."

He doesn't tell you not to fuck his. Doesn't imagine a world in which that would ever happen regardless. They'd have to actually be attracted to you first—and given that he'd shag anything with a pulse, yet not you, he doesn't think that'll ever happen.

"Don't be sick tonight," he tells you instead, dismissing your comments. "And don't be embarrassing. If anyone asks, you're not there with me. Tell them you know Taehyung, instead."

"But I don't know Taehyung?" You question, not knowing how on earth you're supposed to make it believable. "And I can handle my alcohol, thanks."

"You're emotionally volatile at the best of times," he snorts, not telling you the directions as he takes a left completely without warning.

"You're emotionally stunted," you counter back, but he only thinks it proves his point.

"See, always bloody arguing, aren't you?" He sighs. Pauses. Stops walking. Looks you dead in the eye. Says, "I'm doing your friends a favour. Not you."

"They aren't gonna sleep with you."

"God loves a trier."

"I'm pretty sure he also hates sinners," you snort, then ask, "Which way are we going? The quicker we get there, the quicker I'll be out of your hair."

He purses his lips. Fights a smile. You've got him there. Grumbles, "Straight on. But I mean it, Lacey. Don't fuck up my evening."

You? Ruin something for Jungkook? Oh, you'd never dream of it.

"No promises, Jeon."

°.♥🍒♥.°

will continue autumn/winter 2024 x