Jungkook
Strange. Jungkook thought to himself.
His behaviour was strange, out of the ordinary. It wasn't everyday when you'd catch him taking a woman out for coffee, his student no less.
But he knew what he was doing. In fact,
he had everything under control. Or at least, he'd like to think so.
At first, he'd proposed to grab a cup of coffee out of sheer courtesy. It seemed like a reasonable thing for him to do, all things considered, and so, he'd chosen mind over matter and did so without regret.
That was until he'd remembered that she was only his student. Nothing more, nothing less.
And surely, that meant that it was forbidden for him to see her in a different light, right?
Soon, he'd reached a conclusion.
Y/N wasn't any different from the rest of the student's he taught regularly.
Although he'd admit she was easy on the eyes, had a nice smile and gentle tone of voice, it wasn't anything that he'd considered breathtaking or deemed worthy of calling an immediate crush.
(If such a thing ceased to exist)
She wore makeup, but didn't completely cake her face with uneconomical products. Her fashion sense was good, but her clothes didn't glitter or gleam as he'd seen so many other women dress.
In his eyes, everything she did was just... enough. And yet, if she were to stand in a crowd of hundreds, she'd still somehow manage to stand out from the rest. Why?
Was it her intellect? Her looks? Her determination?
How she was adamant not only on getting things right, but on understanding different perspectives as well?
No.
It was more than that.
If there was anything Jungkook had learned during these past few weeks or so, it would be that this woman was so much more than just her determination, looks and intellect.
She liked writing, sure. But she didn't love it. She liked music, sure. But she didn't enjoy listening to it as much as she enjoyed creating music herself.
That was something he'd only recently learned this morning.
To which, he found himself eager to learn even more.
When he'd first seen her on the rooftop that night, the first thing that had caught his attention was her profile. She had been leaning forward with her arms against the rooftop's railing, her hair flowing along with the soft night time breeze as she gazed upon the flaring city lights, her eyes gleaming with a sense of longing.
Alone. Reserved. Hurting. Those were the emotions he'd sensed from her. Being that he'd recognized those emotions quite well himself, he depended on a spur-of-the-moment instinct to join alongside the woman.
To his own surprise, he'd said the first word, but didn't bother turning to take a look at her face.
She did though.
The moment he'd felt her stare, he should've known something was particularly out of sort.
And quite frankly, he should've followed his guts. Because the second he'd heard the word, "Professor," come out of her mouth, he'd known he was momentarily fucked. The last person he'd expected running into that day was his student.
But despite his change of appearance and lack of reasonable manners and courtesy, she didn't seem to care for it that much.
In fact, he was utterly stunned once she'd taken her leave with the last word. "What are you drunk on, sir?" That one question hung above him like a knife, one with the indubitable answer of 'I don't know'.
The rest was a blur.
And from that day onward, he'd been paying less attention to everything but her.
He'd found her past writings, and upon noticing the sudden difference in her perspective and opinion, he decided to bring it to her attention.
Doing so, he proposed an offer of assistance. She'd accepted and as the weeks passed, he found himself growing more and more curious about her life for no reason in particular. Aside from the distant part of him that demanded for more... wanted to know more.
She was the missing piece of a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.
The thoughts clouding her rightful judgement, the doubts and worries that made her hesitant to do the things she wanted to do...
He'd considered every possibility, every prospect, but nothing seemed to quite fit her description of sorrow.
His situation wasn't fitting in the slightest. Because with every detail she revealed about herself, he'd want to get to know her more as a woman rather than anything else. And he couldn't help but wonder if that would that make him selfish.
"You once had something to cherish, something that you held so close to your heart. And yet, it seems to me as if you chose let it go. Why?" He'd asked her at the cafe, blunt and straightforward, searching for an answer.
"I can't answer that."
An answer. And when he hadn't received one...
"Because you are a coward."
He told her the truth himself.
He knew he had been harsh on her, but in his mind, he deemed it necessary.
So, he continued on with the questions, with the harsh realities... pushing for an honest answer that would fulfil his satisfaction.
"Just for how long will you endure this, Y/N?"
"Until I am satisfied."
Then he found one. A true answer.
He admired it. Her will, her strength to push forward. In all actuality, he'd never seen someone quite like herself before. However, everyone had a limit. He'd understood that fact by heart.
And the walls that she'd been mounting brick by brick seemed to have lost their definite foundation as they tumbled one by one before his eyes.
"But I'm afraid."
She spoke, her voice trembling as if to imply her fear for revealing too much.
In return, he listened.
And afterwards, he'd seen a whole different side of her.
He saw a broken expression that conveyed open vulnerability and heartbreak; sorrow and shadowed grief.
Undoubtedly, she was a mirror of all the emotions that so heavily burdened his own heart.
He saw not just a mere student in that moment, but a human... the very vulnerable being that she was.
And she was, simply put, quite beautiful.
Beautiful, fragile, weak. In a rush of comprehension, he came to realize that it was this person who he wanted to know better.
It wasn't the impressive, aloof student that had captivated him at first glance, but rather the woman who he could look in the eye and recognize the same emotional burdens that once suffocated his own heart.
An empathetic woman who knew what it was like to feel hurt and sorrow.
And when the moment came and she'd asked, "Should I be proud of the person I've become? Or should I be shameful of the fact that I let it all go?"
All morals were thrown out the window, while his heart softened.
He wasn't sure what had overcome him when he'd decided to comfort her, but he did, and he did it in the only way he found possible. Touch.
Silently, he'd reached over and rested his hand on the crown of her head, gently ruffling her hair as they met one another's gaze.
It felt as though time had stilled. Looking into her eyes that spoke only devotion, he'd felt a flickering flame ignite in his heart, sparked by the fire in hers.
Jungkook was left captivated by this woman who'd trapped him in a forbidden notion.
He'd even thought about it, imagined it.
What it would feel like to hug her, comfort her in a way a man should to a woman. But he couldn't. He couldn't allow himself to believe that such a thing would become reality... his reality. Especially under the circumstances of being student and teacher.
"Neither. Just live, Y/N." Was all he'd managed to say in the end.
Now, he was driving back to the campus, the straining atmosphere serving as anything but convenient considering the inclosed space.
The silence did, however, help him gather his thoughts.
A few private lessons won't change me. And he'd repeated that mantra on a loop in the vain attempt to will it into truth.
Suddenly, the question had bombarded his mind once more.
Only one syllable. Why?
Why did he, a 31-year-old man with a profitable profession and foreseeable future, have so much needless attraction for a mere student.
Her determination, looks, intellect.
They were all excuses, feints to hide the one sincere answer he knew of deep down.
A slow smile crept onto his lips.
It was the look she had when she lost herself to her ideas.
When her eyes sparked with this clarity.
He'd never wanted to stop her mid-thought or let that light disappear.
And without realizing, that became the exact thing he was drunk on.
Her.
»»————- ————-««
Y/N
God, what were you thinking?
You'd just spent nearly an hour opening up towards your professor, talking about the little things that had reached a point of no return.
It wasn't necessary for you to talk, nor was it for him to sit and listen. Nonetheless, that was exactly what you both ended up doing.
Never in a million years had you ever dreamt of being comforted by the professor. Neither had you foreseen the effect his comfort had on you afterwards.
Because simply put... it did a number on you.
Reasonably so, at the very least.
He— a stoic professor who'd always expressed little to no feelings during his lectures, showed emotion to you.
You, of all people. It just didn't make sense.
For two years, the past had caught up to you. And it was only a mere month ago when it still had. As a result, you were in constant denial and regret, suffocated by the guilt that had well overwhelmed your sensitive heart.
Now, however, you were trapped, cornered — in far too deep to ever think of backing out at once.
You'd believed you were all but someone special.
But special was all he managed to make you feel.
Was it... okay? For you to feel such a way.
After al, a particular line had been drawn, a line that wasn't meant to be crossed.
You stepped over it, hopeless and puzzled by your feelings. In doing so, his words and touch became all you could think about.
Speaking of which...
You couldn't possibly ignore the presence of the unbothered man sitting behind the wheel as you tilted you head back against the car seat and stole a swift glance at his figure. He looked good. Your heart raced.
His lips were moving, but you couldn't bring yourself to focus on what he was saying. Instead, your own curiosity overcame you.
What did he think of it all? What thoughts were going through his head?
Did he feel the same way?
No. You told yourself.
That couldn't be.
You disregarded any idea of him returning whatever feelings you had for him.
Surely not, you concluded.
Suddenly, the car had came to a stop at an intersection as he turned his head your direction. Only then did you realize how long you'd been staring at him.
And out of sheer panic, you looked away as quickly as you possibly could.
"—Is that alright with you?" Shit. You'd missed the whole sentence.
"Sorry?"
He sighed, "I don't want people getting the wrong idea if they were to see us exiting the same car together. Well, frankly, I wouldn't want them getting any idea at all for that matter. So, I'll be dropping you off by the front building before parting ways. Is that alright?"
For a brief second, you'd brung your lips together in a straight line. "Sounds good." You said with a nod. He answered with the same corresponding gesture before pressing his foot on the pedal and driving.
Then, silence.
I wouldn't want them getting any idea at all for that matter.
You knew that you shouldn't have been taking his words to heart. After all, this was the right thing to do. Neither of you could risk a couple of rumours and misunderstandings arising within the student body, especially rumours about your relationship.
The consequences would be utterly dreadful.
He'd jeopardize his career, his passion... his whole life in and of itself.
While you'd put your education and future on the line.
You couldn't afford to do so. The same went for him.
Yet, despite knowing that, why'd you feel so disappointed by his wise say of decision?
In an attempt to distract yourself, you averted your focus to the music playing faintly through the speakers of the vehicle.
You turned the volume up slightly and began humming along to the melody.
This undeniably caught the professor's attention as he cleared his throat, tapping his fingers continuously against the steering wheel. "You seem to know this song quite well," He remarked and you nodded, staring upon the many tall buildings constructed outside.
"Yeah, I guess I do." You answered simply, but pursed your lips the moment the car fell silent.
So, without giving it much thought, you further elaborated— in the hopes that it would fundamentally please him to listen.
"The beat itself has a certain ring to it. It's smooth and serene, but also very alluring, and reflects nothing but good energy."
You caught your breath, exhaled, then continued. "You could tell how much effort the producers put into making the chorus, along with the bridge." Your eyes brightened as you spoke, glistening under the illumination provided by each of the street lights you drove by, as well as the sun that was rising in the far distance.
"Y'know, many don't take music as seriously as others. They see it as a money grabber, a way to gain themselves recognition and fame, nothing else. Obviously, I have a differing opinion."
You spoke with underlying confidence, "Music is a way for an artist to deliver a message, to deliver the emotions one may pent up. It is not something to be taken advantage of. An artists' job is not only to write lyrics and perform, but to do so while appreciating those who listen to them. Clearly, only few understand it's basis."
The particularity of your given response had left him stunned for a moment, and it showed.
Soon enough, you turned away embarrassed upon realizing your sudden outburst of words and how brazen you'd truly sounded.
"Sorry, I have a habit of running my mouth."
He shook his head and swiftly covered his mouth with his fist to muffle a chuckle.
"Not at all. If anything, I agree with you. It's not like any of the other songs you'd usually hear on the radio... overplayed, disorganized and all. And everything you said about the job of an artist is completely correct as well. Many tend to take advantage of their authority and fame. Instead of producing music for the sheer purpose of enlightening both themselves and their fans, they produce music that enlightens their bank accounts. It's tough to find good music nowadays."
"Right." You couldn't help the smile that had tugged at your lips as you covered it with your palm, the car left silent once again.
What you failed to notice, however, was the similar feature painted on Jungkook's lips as he reflected back on your words.
Your passion was something truly admirable in his eyes. And despite how badly he wanted to break the silence between you two, how he wanted to make further conversation... he knew that he couldn't. That he shouldn't make this any harder for either of you.
With that, time had passed quickly, taking only a short while before you finally reached campus grounds. As he parked outside the front of the building, you turned to the professor in a swift motion and sighed awkwardly.
"Thank you for the coffee, professor." Was all you managed to let out.
Without giving him any time to respond, your hand hovered over the handle as you were about to push it open. However, his next words almost immediately stopped you from doing so.
"Jungkook," He corrected, and instantly, you found yourself fighting the urge to smile once more. Facing him again, his gleaming brown orbs pierced into yours with such captivation, while you remained clueless on how to respond.
Feeling succumbed to him for some peculiar reason, your heart began to race and with a shake of the head, you replied, saying, "I thought you were kidding."
"Kidding?" He pronounced each syllable in a sarcastic manner. "Who do you take me for?"
A muffled laugh sounded from your throat. "Well, I didn't think we were on first name basis."
"It's a special privilege, very uncommon. If I were you, I'd consider myself lucky."
He smiled with his eyes.
"Lucky for what exactly?" You joked.
"You're dragging this out. Is this a way of you rejecting my generosity?" This time, you couldn't hold back as the sound of your laughter echoed within the car, your eyes closing and breathing heavy.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were disappointed."
"Nonsense." He spoke under his breath.
You grinned in response.
From then onward, the rest of the day had been a blur.
Because of that morning consumed by the professor, your classes seemed to fly by like a breeze without any distress.
And before you knew it, you were at home, lying in bed with a soft smile pressed against your lips as you recalled today's events.
You'd spent the day in a euphoric high.
No doubt about it, was it all because of him. Jeon Jungkook.
You liked his kindness, his rare as ever smiles, his voice and honesty.
And him.
You liked him a lot.
»»————- ————-««
authors note
Hello loves!
Being that the first half of this chapter was written in Jungkook's POV, it gave me the perfect opportunity to properly express his thoughts and emotions about Y/N. So, I was very much looking forward to posting this.
ALSO, I changed some of the dialogue from chapter one. It was only a few lines between the two protagonists, but after reading this part, I'm sure you'll realize how big of a change it actually was.
I edited chapter one to suit that change, so feel free to check it out!
This story has been moving quite slow for the most part, but things are finally happening... and they are going to be happening fast.
I wont say more. 😉
Love you all, and hope you have an amazing day!
❥
{bngtnangel on instragam}