affixed | jjk ✓

83. persistent

Devora took a look at Jungkook's outfit, seeing that he was wearing his usual suit.

An all-black button-up with a black tie, along with an appropriate pair of slacks and dressing shoes.

"Follow me, please." The woman instructed, grabbing menus from behind her.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Devora was so used to holding on to Jungkook whenever they went out as a pair, since she unconsciously locked her arm with his, keeping as close to him as possible.

"Why didn't you tell me there was a dress code here?" She kept her voice low, keeping up with his pace.

His eyebrows squeezed, lips thinned. "What do you mean? You look great, why are you worried?"

She opened her mouth, ready to object, however, interrupted by the waitress who brought them to their table.

It was a circled table with white cloth above it, placed beside a window, almost sequestered at the end of the restaurant, away from others.

Jungkook pulled out a chair for Devora, tapping the fabric on the fancy chair, insisting she sit.

Devora listened without another word, being cooperative.

Swiftly, he pushed Devora's chair in, getting back to the seat placed in front of her.

Their drinks were ordered, and they were, once again, left to bask in one another's ambiance.

She took a silent deep breath in, keeping her hands locked above her lap, her eyes traveling far away from his.

It was unfathomably difficult for her to muster up the courage to look him in his eyes after the night they shared.

What they did went against her morals, even though it felt right, it didn't make it okay.

Devora was inebriated by his potent aura that night, coaxed by their fervent bickering.

Not only was she too embarrassed to look him in his eyes, but she felt humiliated with herself. Whether she'd like to admit it or not, she was the one who allowed him to kiss her and touch her body, as if they were still together.

As if they hadn't broken up for insurmountable problematic and unfaithful causes.

Her cheeks rinsed in a red hue, sensing that his eyes never left hers. Even when the waitress came back around with their drinks, and took their orders, he never once averted his attention from Devora.

It made her feel decipherable, almost like he could descry every little irrational perception that appeared in her mind.

Devora tapped her heel against the carpeted floor, growing impatient with herself.

Her fingers looped with the ends of her hair, peeking at his inked fingers that enclosed over the small glass cup filled with scotch whiskey.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"I still love you."

The duo expressed themselves concurrently.

She turned her head to the window, fingers finding their way to her lips.