Pandora Unleashed ✔️

Cupidity

⚠️* trigger warning: mention of anxiety, blood, and elements of adultery.

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        "... Jungkook?" You gasped his name in a startled breath. He noticed your body visibly tensed at the sight of him.

He didn't mean to creep in on you. When he approached the gallery, he thought there would be some attendees but it seemed everyone was leaving once he pulled in. At first, he thought he was going to miss you but that wasn't the case. A part of him feared being alone with you. Alone meant a lot of things and some of it he was certain he didn't want to dive into. For a brief moment, he watched you from afar and it ticked away at him that he couldn't guess what headspace you were in. At one point, it seemed as though a sadness washed over you whether that was because it was your last showcase or something else entirely he wasn't too sure, but there was no doubt you were feeling something. However, what he didn't expect was the frightful reaction. He could never do anything to harm you. Well, perhaps it had nothing to do with him at all. You had been through your fair share of ill-intended surprises and it ached him he could - even for a microsecond - make you feel uncomfortable.

       "Jesus, Shorty, I am so sorry." He said as he approached you, the sound of the glass shattering below you continuously echoed through the empty gallery, "I didn't mean to scare you."

       "It's o-okay."

He recognized that look. Terror. You trembled still and he could sense every fiber of his being wanting to reach for your hand and pull you into a reassuring embrace.

       "I didn't mean to--"

       "It's okay. I'm fine."
You dismissed his concern as you crouched and collected the shattered glass of the frame from the photo. You were shaking still, even now, even after knowing the person who loomed in the other room. Crouching opposite you, he reached for a few pieces of glass.
       "I've got it." You snapped.

      "I don't mind helping--"

      "I said I got it." You shot him a glare and he spotted the gloss coating your eyes, "What are you even doing here?" With rashness, you carelessly reached for the glass pieces in his hand, "Fuck!" A screech came out of you as one of them met the side of your palm. You jolted upward in an agonizing roar, "Shit, shit, shit."

       "Here."

He held his hand out and you approached him with a slight whimper. What possessed you to reach for a sharp object he didn't know but he could tell you weren't completely alright. Although he wanted to pry, he couldn't get himself to ask anything. He wasn't sure why all of a sudden he had a difficult time being around you.

Last he'd seen you he was instructing you to breathe and overcome your anxiety attack and before that, you were arguing, and way before that, you were straddling him. He knew you, sometimes better than yourself it seemed, but there was something unfamiliar about you tonight. Perhaps this was something that always happened and he hadn't noticed it until right this moment. Maybe his heart always jumped a little at the sight of you, a nervousness brewing in his stomach. It didn't matter if he hated you or if he didn't want anything to do with you, those pestering butterflies in his stomach would always be there when he laid eyes on you.

       "This week I swear." A light giggle escaped you.

       "It's not that deep. I can take it out."

       "No."

       "No?" He smiled and reached for your hand, "You can't walk around with glass in your palm." When you attempted to retrieve your hand he tightened his grip, pulling you slightly closer as you stared into his eyes, "I'll be careful, okay?" He reassured, unintentionally allowing his fingertips to caress your wrist.