"Well then," I sat up, patting down my greasy hair that was still up in a ponytail, "do you mind if I shower? I feel kinda gross from running around today."
"Sure," he also sat up, reaching down into the pile of clothes he just made and pulled out a large plain T shirt. "Wear this."
"Thanks."

After 15 minutes, I stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my head and his shirt on me. That thing was mad soft and seriously oversized. For someone with such a nice figure and body proportions, I wonder why he likes to wear things that are 2 sizes too big.

"Looks good," he paused the game he was playing on his laptop as he looked over. I felt my face starting to get red so I unwrapped the towel from my hair and held it up to my face so only my eyes peeked out. He got up from the chair he repositioned himself into and walked over to me, moving the towel away. 
"You're insanely pretty without makeup too. Don't hide," he said in Korean. 
I moved over to the bed and plopped down on top of it again, "What does that mean? Or should I not ask?" He looked like he was thinking for a bit then shook his head, "It's something good. Trust me." 

I rolled my eyes playfully but deep down inside, I believed him. It's strange how your emotions can be strong enough to control you like this. I've only really known him for a couple of hours and here I was, in his hotel room, in his shirt, without a single doubt or regret in the world. It's even stranger that we found each other from opposite sides of the world. Jungkook pointed at the bathroom door, "Done?" he asked, grabbing his own clothes. I nodded.

He disappeared into the bathroom, and within a few minutes, the water had then off. He stepped out of the bathroom with some loose, flowy shorts hanging on his wasit and his shirt drapped over his shoulder. He was ruffling his hair with a towel, trying to dry it out as best he could but the motion of his hand running through it was dripping the water down his and chest. Holy frick, it was actually like looking at one of those Greek god statues at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I had to force myself to look away and climb under the covers. He joined me after giving up on drying the rest of his hair, throwing the towel on the ground next to his suitcase. His shirt was on but he didn't dry the leftover water on his body so it was clinging onto him in interesting places. 

"Tired?" he asked, sliding further into bed and laying his head down on the pillow. I reached over to the light and dimmed it so we could still see each other but it wasn't blinding us. My eyes felt heavy and I knew I would probably pass out in a few minutes but my mind was still racing.

And honestly, I kinda felt anxious.

Last night's dream was the scariest one yet, and it was also the one that felt the most real. What if it changed because we had seen each other and we were in the same city? What would happen tonight when we're literally inches away from each other, in the same room? IN THE SAME BED?

"I'm trying not to