Chapter 87: Plants, Pinkies & Paper Cranes

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I looked at him then-really looked.

And whispered, "Deal."

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The greenhouse had that sleepy, golden hush only early evenings could offer.

Soft light pooled over Jungkook's shoulders, brushing the curve of his cheekbone, making the tips of his lashes glow like they were dipped in sunlight.

He sat across from me on the floor, legs folded up loosely, his socked feet pressed together like he was trying to disappear into himself.

God. He really was so pretty it hurt a little.

"I'm just saying," I start, trying to keep the tone light even though my chest felt unreasonably full,

"you've got everybody waiting on you like you're some kind of rare comet."

I laugh a little, shaking my head.

"Namjoon hyung's pacing. Jin hyung's been stress-baking. Yoongi hyung keeps pretending he doesn't care, but he gets twitchy whenever your name comes up. And Y/N-"

I glance at him, gauging his reaction.

There it is-that slight shift, the way his fingers pick at a thread on his sleeve.

Something flickers across his face, too fast to catch.

I lean in, elbow on my knee.

"Y/N noona's been the calmest, but that's only because she's been preparing for this like it's a chess game." I grin at him.

"They've all been tiptoeing around you like you're a bomb. But look at you-cute as a button."

His head jerks up at that, eyes wide.

Then-God help me-a shy little chuckle escapes him, soft and bright like the sound of windchimes in the spring.

He ducks his head, face pinking up like dawn spilling over the horizon.

"It's just..." he murmurs, his voice low, careful.

"It's been a lot. Like, everyone's looking at me like I'm supposed to be this... soulmate. This missing piece that fits everything. And I'm not sure yet."

He swallows. "I'm really not sure."

That softness in his eyes... it cuts through me.

There's no wall, no mask right now.

Just Jungkook-vulnerable, real.

"I'm in a complicated situation," he says, the words barely above a whisper.

"And I just... I don't want to hurt anybody."

I sit with that for a beat. Let it settle.

The weight in his voice, the quiet ache there.

"I get it," I say finally. And I mean it.

"I do."

He looks up at me, searching my face like he's trying to see if I'm being sincere.

I smile.

"No pressure. No expectations. I just wanted to meet the mystery boy myself."

I lean a little closer, dropping my voice like I'm telling a secret.

"And guess what?"

He tilts his head, cautious.

"You're even better than the rumors."

He huffs out a breath-somewhere between a laugh and disbelief-and his shoulders drop a little.

Like maybe, for once, someone isn't asking him to be something.

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