Vows of Betrayal | Jeon Jungkook

༺ 13 ༻

The days that followed had passed in the same way. Jungkook went to work before I was even awake and I didn't know when he came back at night because I was passed out already. I was still hurt and angry at the same time because of the things he had said to me.

And now he was standing there, facing me and not wavering even for a second. He stood close enough for me to read the waiting expression on his face, but far enough that I couldn't tell if his breath was hitching just as mine was.

I saw his lips part as if he wanted to say something, even though he knew I wouldn't understand him from that distance, but sealed them shut. His chauffeur snapped him out of the little bubble we found ourselves in, probably asking if he had a wish.

I didn't stick around to see what he did after that, nor did I wonder why he had returned from work so much earlier today. Instead, I climbed the small ladder I had placed close enough to the wall and began painting the edge that bordered the ceiling.

I hoped Jungkook would hate it the moment he stepped into the bedroom. Maybe it seemed petty, but I would definitely find satisfaction if he complained with a red face about what I had done to his room.

The thought brought a smirk to my face and I continued happily until the door opened and closed. I didn't turn around, of course, and ignored his slowing footsteps. He was probably staring daggers into the back of my head.

But neither scolding nor anything else left his mouth and I followed with my ears as he walked first into the closet and then into the bathroom. His usual routine. A drop of paint fell on my shirt, but I didn't pay it any attention because it was an old shirt anyway.

My arm started to feel numb because I was constantly holding it up, so I dropped it and shook my fingers. And that's when I noticed Jungkook coming up next to the ladder, his eyes fixed on the wall.

He inspected the edges I had already painted and then reached for the large paint roller. I understood what he was trying to do.

"I don't need your help," I said flatly, looking away from him.

I saw him nod in the corner of my eye. "I know."

For some reason, it made me want to be angry when Jungkook began to sweep the paint roller across the wall with even motions. I hadn't decided to add a change to the bare room just because I wanted to piss him off, but I definitely hadn't imagined him helping me with it either.

Ugh. Mission failed.

If I didn't know he was going to continue despite my discomfort, I would make it clear to him that I wanted to complete the task on my own. But in the past almost five months, I had gotten to know Jungkook that much.

We worked in silence before I descended the ladder to pour more paint from the large bucket into my small jar. Having successfully painted a third of the edge, I moved the ladder on.

Jungkook was standing in my way and he stepped around me. His aftershave filled my nose despite the chemical whiff wafting in the air. I felt his gaze on me, but I continued with my work.

The little brush prolonged the whole process and by the time I moved the ladder one last time, Jungkook had already made more than half of the wall glow a deep green. He was a muscle pig, of course it would take less work for his arms.

And when he got under the ladder to make the last little bit of white disappear, our hands and brushes crossed. I gave him mine and took the roller to paint the last area. Finished and obsessed with the result, I was about to descend the steps to view the masterpiece from a distance when my elbow bumped the jar and it fell to the floor.