Jungkook

My cable won’t be connected until next week. My eyes hurt from reading too much, and maybe also from crying. I finally put a down payment on a car with my leftover student loans, but until I get a job, I can’t really afford the gas. I’d better find a job soon, because I’m pretty sure I’ve fictionalized how great living alone is. I’m tempted to try to get my job back at the library, even if I have to beg. I just need something to keep me busy.

I’m. Freaking. Bored.

So bored that I’m looking at my hands, counting random things that make absolutely no sense to even be counting.

One: the number of people constantly on my mind. (Jimin.)

Two: the number of people I wish would contract a ually transmitted disease. (Hoseok and Taehyung)

Three: the number of months since I broke up with my lying, cheating bastard of a boyfriend.

Four: the number of times Namjoon has checked up on me since I moved out of the apartment.

Five: the number of times Namjoon has knocked on my door in the last thirty seconds.

Six: the number of days since I last saw Jimin.

Seven: the number of feet from my couch to the front door.

I open the door, and Namjoon doesn’t even wait for me to invite him in. He smiles and slips past me, holding two white bags in his hands.

“I brought tacos,” he says. “I was driving by on my way home from work and thought you might want some.” He sets the bags on my kitchen counter, then walks to the sofa and plops down. I close the door and face him. “Thanks for the tacos, but how do I know you aren’t pranking me? What’d you do, switch the beef out with tobacco?”

Namjoon looks up at me and grins, impressed. “Now, that’s a genius prank idea, Jungkook. I think you might finally be getting the hang of it.”

I laugh and take a seat next to him. “Figures, now that I have no roommates to prank.”

He laughs and pats my knee. “Jin doesn’t get off work until midnight. Want to go catch a movie?”

My head sinks into the back of the couch almost as quickly as my heart sinks into my stomach. I hate feeling as if he’s only here because he feels sorry for me. The last thing I want to be is someone’s worry.

“Namjoon, you don’t have to keep coming by here to check on me every day. I know you’re trying to be nice, but I’m fine.”

He shifts his weight on the couch so that he’s facing me. “I’m not coming by here because I feel sorry for you, Jungkook. You’re my friend. I miss having you around the apartment. And I might be coming by here because I feel a tad bit remorseful for treating you like complete the night Yoongi was admitted to the hospital.”

I nod. “Yeah. You were quite the that night.”

“I know.” He laughs. “Don’t worry; Jimin hasn’t let me forget it.”

Jimin.

God, even hearing his name hurts.

Namjoon realizes his slip-up when he sees the change in my expression. “. Sorry.”

I press my palms into the couch and stand up, wanting to escape the awkwardness of our conversation. It’s really not a subject I need to be talking about, anyway.

“Wll, are you hungry?” I ask as I head to the kitchen. “I just spent hours slaving over the stove to make these tacos, so you’d better eat one.”