Dark Matter | JJK

36. The Mundane and the Magical

Jungkook had always gotten along well with his mother. She was smart, spiky and funny, with a keen sense of beauty and a lovely, expansive capacity for hope and happiness - someone he would've liked even if they weren't biologically related. Even when he was a mildly rebellious adolescent, his standard-issue fights (why can't I stay out late and why do you give me hassle for homework) had been with is father, almost never with her. Since the day he'd moved out of Busan, he had rung her a couple of times a week, met her for lunch every month or two out of genuine affection and enjoyment - not duty. He picked up odd little presents for her from time-to-time - like memorable talismans and magazines on the fine arts - and texted her not-so-funny things Seokjin said that he knew she would nonetheless appreciate.

In nutshell, Mrs Jeon was "pretty chill."

"Stop -" kitchen rag snatched from her fingers, "freaking -" piles of spotless-white glass plates stacked on the counter, "out -" hands grabbing her shoulders and whirling her around, "- Petra."

"Let me wipe them at least -"

"This might be the eight hundredth time you're washing them!" Jungkook exclaimed, eyebrows quirking up with half amusement, half annoyance. "They're so clean I can nearly see my handsome face in them."

The frantic girl wasn't having any of his nonsense, shaking away from the grip he had on her shoulders. "Shut up and let wipe them -"

Jungkook sighed as his hands dejectedly trailed down her arms, watching with a frown as Petra reached for the kitchen rag and began wiping the poor dishes so aggressively he feared they would crack.

"Petra, Petra, Petra," he drawled in a singsong voice, waltzing to her and prying away her fingers from the dishes. He held her face, mushing her cheeks with his palms and cooing when her scowling lips squished together like those of an annoyed fish. "My loveliest, littlest, fiercest tigress, stop worrying so much. My mom's coming over for lunch, not to take your job interview."

The girl scrunched her nose in a grimace that did not quite meet her eyes, detaching his hands from her face. He finally gave in, but not before baby-talking to her a little more and quickly pressing his lips to hers.

"Okay, fine, I'll stop overreacting." She turned and walked out of the kitchen. "I'll go check if the living room's air conditioning is working."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Stop pouting and wipe those dishes."

He let his arms fall in resignation. "As you say, P."

Petra paused with a remote held mid-air in her hand, pointed towards the AC, eyes narrowed. "What did you call me?"

"P?" he said nonchalantly, turning to face her while rubbing the rag against the curved edge of a glass plate. "Isn't it a couples' thing to call each other nicknames?"

"Did you just call your girlfriend the monosyllabic equivalent of urine?"

Jungkook's hands stopped at her words, silently placing the plate and rag on the kitchen counter, bracing his back against it and regarding her with his head cocked. "What do you want me to call you then? Baby, sweetheart, muffin, honey - ew, no, my physics teacher used to call me honey... I'm sticking to P."

Petra stared at him for a while, like she could not believe the extent of he would go to be dramatic, and placed the the AC's remote on the dining table. Then she threw her head back and dissolved into a fit of disbelieving chuckles.

Thank god, he thought, grinning after having successfully erased some of her pre-boyfriend's-mother's-visit anxiety. It was at that moment, in the midst of them both simply staring at each other from across the living room with silly smiles on their faces, when the doorbell rang.