When the campus heartthrob Jeon Jungkook who's actually a secret, self-professed romantic at heart, and the innocent country girl Kim Y/N, who's actually not as timid and docile as she seems, end up sharing a dorm for the semester, both discover tha...
TW: Mentions of r*pe. Please proceed with caution.
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"I HOPE YOU know that the only reason I'm not telling you the details about my sister's presence in the hospital is because one, it's hardly my story to tell and two, I don't want to say anything that might make you fear men any more than you already do." Jungkook stated evenly as he pulled back to scan my face, his dark brown eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he tried to gauge any signs of distress appearing on my face.
"Of course," I hummed quietly, looking sideways and avoiding his eyes as I grew increasingly aware of his hand resting on my waist and the unfamiliar yet surprisingly very comforting strength of his thighs under me.
It was possibly the closest I'd ever been to him out of my own free will without being either drunk or sleepy, but still I wasn't exactly light enough to keep sitting like this forever.
And even though, he wasn't showing any signs of discomfort, it still felt like it was high time for me to get off him already, my insides clawing at me—a full grown human—for even making the stupid decision of climbing into his lap.
As if he could read my mind, Jungkook suddenly gave my waist a gentle squeeze. His hand moved up and down my side in quick, fleeting motions as a way to get my attention back on him while he lifted his other hand to playfully tap my nose. Twice.
"I don't want you to be afraid of anything." He shot me a warm smile when I finally looked at him, a little flustered by all the innocent yet numerous ways he devised to touch me without raising my heckles.
"Not men." He continued speaking, his voice growing quiet and insistent as his fingers slid down my cheek. "Not me. Not me ever." He emphasised as his thumb caressed my jaw, his lips tilting up in a soft, promising smile as I nodded.
"I know," I mumbled silently, breaking into a weak smile of my own as I looked down at my interlinked hands again.
I was too scared of looking into his eyes and finding evidence of what sounded like more than just "like" in their dark, perceptive depths, too afraid of letting my own overwhelming feelings get the best of me and even more terrified of letting my own eyes betray exactly how I felt about him in this moment.
I didn't think it was love. I didn't even know what romantic love felt like in order to be able to label my feelings as the beautiful, elusive feeling poets loved to talk about.
All I knew was that I liked Jungkook more than any guy I'd ever known in my life with the only exception of my father.
I'd never thought that I'd ever meet a guy whom I'd want to even compare to the best man I'd ever known. But here we were, sitting in a hospital room, waiting on a young girl who'd just recovered from a prolonged comatose state and possibly an even more harrowing episode of sexual abuse, and here he was, visibly devastated at his sister's condition and yet so terribly concerned about me, my traumas and what could trigger them.
