“The Morning After”

The morning sunlight felt harsh against your skin, piercing through the curtains like needles. Your head throbbed mercilessly, your body heavy as if weighed down by the tears from last night.

You sat up slowly, your eyes puffy, cheeks stiff from dried tears. The pillow beneath you was still damp.

Your heart clenched remembering the sound of his fists hitting the wall, the look in his eyes when you asked him to choose.

He chose you.

But at what cost?

Dragging yourself out of bed, you walked into your room—the one where you kept your things. The apartment had always been set up with two rooms. One for you. One for him. You liked your space. He respected it.

After a long shower and your slow, sleepy routine, you stepped out dressed and ready for college, even though your soul felt anything but ready.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

Standing in the kitchen.

Back facing you.

He was cooking—silent, precise, focused. He didn’t glance at you. Didn’t say good morning. No sarcastic remark. No soft smirk.

Just silence.

And you… you didn’t know what to say either.

So you quietly pulled the chair and sat down at the table, clutching your throbbing head. The air between you two was thick. Unbearable.

You stared at the wood grain on the table, your throat dry and heavy.

Then—a mug of coffee was placed in front of you.

Hot. Steaming.

You blinked up.

Jungkook didn’t say anything. Didn’t meet your eyes. He just turned away and continued flipping the eggs on the pan.

But that small gesture…

It screamed more than words ever could.

He knew.

He noticed.

He still cared.

Your fingers curled around the cup. It was warm. Comforting.

You looked down, guilt swelling in your chest. He had bled last night—for you. And now, here he was, quietly making sure your headache would ease before class.

Breakfast came next. Eggs. Toast. Fruit.

The clinking of cutlery was the only sound in the apartment. Neither of you spoke. The silence was no longer loud—it was numb.

You both finished quickly. Almost as if dragging it longer would only stretch the pain.

Then, it was time.

College awaited—same hallways, same eyes. And the same secret between you.

You both walked out of the apartment wordlessly.

The elevator ride was even quieter. You stood side by side, but it felt like miles apart.

Your eyes, however, couldn’t stop stealing glances.

Jungkook’s face was emotionless. His eyes cold. Focused on the doors like he couldn’t wait to get out of this space.

But your gaze dropped to his hand.

Knuckles bruised. Slightly swollen. Faint streaks of dried blood still clung to his skin.

He didn’t even bother bandaging it.

Your chest ached.

This is because of me…

Just then—the elevator dinged.

The doors opened.

He stepped out first.

Without a word, he walked to the parking area and pulled his bike out. His actions sharp. Distant.

You walked behind slowly, still unsure what to do. You knew he was mad. Maybe not just at you… but at how much it hurt him.

He didn’t say hop on.

But he stood in front of the bike.

Waiting.

You walked up and climbed on—like always. But your hands stayed on your lap.

It had always been this way. You never liked touching him in public, even when no one was around. You were used to keeping distance. To hiding.

But then—

His hand reached back.

Fingers cold but firm.

He grabbed your hand, pulled it forward, and placed it around his waist.

No words.

Just a single, unspoken command: Hold me.

And you did.

Tightly. Like an apology. Like a promise. Like you never wanted to let go.

He wore his helmet.

Started the bike.

And the engine roared to life—carrying you both forward.

You rested your head lightly against his back, closing your eyes for a moment.

His back was warm. His heartbeat steady. And in this quiet ride, between the cracks of last night’s pain, one truth whispered loudest—

Even in silence, he chose you.

To be continued...