Chapter 21

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Jungkook’s POV

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the pleasant scent of lavender shampoo that swirls around me like stardust. Then slowly, my other senses come into focus, beginning to build up a satisfying atmosphere in my head like pixels in an image.

It’s the feeling of soft, black hair tickling my chin, and of small, chubby fingers pressed against my bare chest. Of a nose burrowed into my neck and full lips against my collarbone. Of muscular limbs entangled with mine. Then my eyes shift so everything around me is sharper, and my heart almost bursts at the sight of Jimin curled up into me, radiating a comforting warmth, like he never wants to let go.

I chuckle softly to myself and start to his hair back from his forehead. Last night’s words come tumbling back into my head- Jimin said he loved me.
He lets out a small sigh and the breath fans my neck, before wriggling a bit to re-adjust his position. Jimin’s eyes slowly flutter open, and land on mine, still hooded and glazed over from sleep.
“Morning, hyung,” I say quietly, and Jimin blinks a few times, like he’s unsure of whether this is reality.
“Morning,” he says decidedly after a few moments of silence. Does he regret waking up next to me? Oh, God, is he just going to get up and leave? , Jungkook, you probably at being top-
“Aish, you’re too cute,” Jimin almost squeals, taking my face in both his hands and planting a kiss on the tip of my nose. I shy away at the intimacy, blushing, and he giggles.

There’s a knock on my bedroom door and my head snaps up at the sound. , I think. Last night we were pretty goddamn loud, and if there’s anything worse than your parents hearing you have , someone please tell me—

But then I realise that my parents are still on their business trip, and let out a sigh of relief.

“Oppa! Are you awake? I’m hungry,”

And then comes another realisation, that the one thing worse than your parents hearing you have , is your baby sister hearing you have instead. I cringe, because she’s already walked in on way too much regarding Jimin and I, and the babysitter Mom hired for when I’m out and can’t take care of her probably heard too. Jimin looks equally mortified beside me.

“Oh, God, Jihyun,” he says. “You don’t think she--?”

“You can count on it,” I groan, cursing my sister’s hawk-like sense of hearing. “Just pretend that nothing happened.”

Then the door swings open, and I almost cry out in shock.

“J-Jihyun! What did I say about knocking!” I yelp desperately, grabbing at the sheets to cover up as much of both Jimin and I as I can. Jihyun’s eyes are saucer-wide, jaw slack, and her folded arms drop limply to her sides. All three of us freeze, stiff and unsure of what to do. Predictably, it’s my little sister that breaks the silence.

“Jungkook oppa,” she says, quietly. “Why… why don’t you have any clothes on?”

“I-I was about to take a shower,” I say, scrambling forward to gather up my clothes from last night splayed across the floor, whilst simultaneously mainting my modesty with the sheets.

“Then why is Jimin oppa not wearing clothes either?”

“I was going to take a shower after Jungkook,” Jimin provides quickly. Jihyun does not look convinced by any means.

“Why are you both sleeping in the same bed? And what were you two doing last night?” she wriggles onto the bed next to me, shuffling onto my lap. Her large doe eyes look up to me, and the pure innocence just confirms that I’m going straight to hell.

“U-uh, last night? We, uh, we were-”

“Were you fighting? Oppa, you won the fight, didn’t you? I kept hearing Jimin oppa screaming out your name, you really shouldn’t hurt him like that even if it’s just a game,” she scolds, and I almost melt back into the pillows in relief. 

“Y-yes, but it was just playfighitng. You’re okay, aren’t you Jimin?” I nod over to the other boy, who is suitably a flushed shade of burgundy. He nods furiously.

“Jihyun, why don’t you wait downstairs while your oppa and I shower and get dressed? We’ll only be five or ten minutes,” Jimin says kindly, and Jihyun smiles before skipping off onto the landing.

“That was close,” I breathe, and Jimin laughs.

* * *

It turns out, that we weren’t five or ten minutes.

In fact, it turns out that Jimin enjoyed my random display of dominance (where did that come from? Even I didn’t expect to have that in me) and quite literally got on his knees and begged (well, begging’s not the only thing he did while he was down there) for a replay of last night. Except this time, it was up against the cold tiles of the bathroom under scalding hot water spurting out from the shower head.

After we’ve both released and are drained of energy, we proceed to actually start the whole showering thing.

“That’s right, oh, that feels so good, Jungkookie,” Jimin moans, and I wince as a lump forms in my throat. All I’m doing is massaging the shampoo into his thick, matted strands of hair, and he’s letting out noise after noise which is rather distracting. When I’ve finished, I spin him round to face me and I don’t even bother to try and stop the achingly wide smile paint my face.

He looks ing adorable like that, blushing red face framed by a mass of bubbles and white foam, dripping down his forehead, into his eyebrows and nose. He huffs, trying to blow the bubbles away, but just ends up sneezing and sending an explosion of the foam splattering across the rest of his face. I laugh, and Jimin glares before wiping it away with the back of his hand.

“Not funny,” he scowls, crossing his arms over that gorgeous golden chest.

“Oh, but it is,” I drawl, scooting forward to wrap my arms around his small waist, pressing my hands into his lower back. Jimin’s stiff, arms-crossed, frowning stance doesn’t falter, and he continues glaring. It’s really quite funny, because his entire scalp is covered in bubbles, and he’s so small and cute that I can’t take his indignation seriously.

“Ah, cute,” I mumble, mouthing at his wet neck, shoulder, collarbones. He doesn’t let up until my teeth ever so slightly graze his skin, and then he practically melts into my embrace. We stay like that, under the hot water, surrounded by a humid cloud of steam fogging up the glass and the room. I continue taking my time to taste his sweet skin, and nibbling at every inch I can, proud as the blooms of violet, indigo and rose-pink start to appear on his torso.

“Jungkook,” Jimin moans, again, and God, does he know what that does to me? Jimin tilts back his head to give me free reign over his neck, and I don’t hesitate to mark the tantalizingly golden skin.

After about half an hour, we both get out of the shower and dry ourselves, before going downstairs to face an incredibly annoyed Jihyun.

“Five minutes,” she says dangerously, and it’s a wonder how a kid her age can put so much malice into her voice. And all because she didn’t get her cereal?

“Sorry, Jihyun, I’ll buy you sweets if you want,” I sigh, padding over to the cupboards to find the cornflakes box. When I do, and turn to face Jihyun, she’s smiling.

“It’s okay, oppa. Because I know why you took so long,” she says, and the tone of her voice has me starting to wonder if I should get her homeschooled, because the kids she’s hanging out with cannot be good for her in anyway. I reinforce the idea when she gestures at the hickeys on my neck and collarbones and winks.
She’s six years old, for God’s sake!

Soo