BO-YOUNG
He flips the sketchbook over to face me to reveal the drawing. I don't know what I expected, maybe that I would hardly recognize myself anymore, but even after so many years of struggling, I can recognize my features. Sure, my cheeks aren't nearly as full as they once were, and my under eyes are dark and slightly puffy, but the ghost of the person I was those years ago still exists. I smile, relieved.
"So, what do you think?" Jungkook asks, searching my face for a reaction.
"I was afraid you'd show me the drawing, and a stranger would stare back, but it's just me," I mumble, soon after realizing how my comment comes off to him. "Not that I doubted that you'd be able to accurately draw me—the drawing itself is amazing," I quickly clarify.
Jungkook grins reassuringly. "I get what you mean."
He proudly signs the drawing and closes the sketchbook. I see him glance at his phone before quietly yawning.
"It's late. You can sleep in the guest room if you want. It's the door on the left," he offers, gesturing to the two doors on the far wall—the one on the right is the one he briefly disappeared into.
"You live alone, but you have a guest room?" I ask.
"It's quite bare-bones. I often have friends over, so it comes in handy often."
He escorts me to the door, opening it for me before stepping aside to let me in. He stands in the doorway for a moment before asking: "Do you have any allergies?"
"No," I answer.
"Noted. Make yourself at home," he tells me, giving me a thumbs-up before retreating into his room, closing the door as he leaves.
I look around the room. As Jungkook said, it's mostly undecorated. Inside, I find a bed covered in fresh sheets, a wooden dresser, a bookshelf, and two bedside tables.
I throw myself onto the bed, sprawling out across it as if making a snow angel before wrapping myself in the clean sheets, a wide smile on my face. I don't even realize I'm crying until I see the dark spots on the pillow. It's been so long since I was in a proper bed. I snuggle further into the duvet, listening to the tapping of the rain outside, thinking about how that's where I should be—where I will be, come tomorrow. I can't help but feel slightly forlorn, knowing I've become far too comfortable in such a minuscule amount of time and how hard it'll be to sleep on the cold hard ground after tonight.
I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling long enough to see patterns and pictures in the bumpy texture. Despite how exhausted I was earlier, I feel like I can't sleep. My eyes stay stubbornly open and awake. I toss and turn, staring at the rain trailing down the window, through which the warm light of the old streetlight outside shines in.
A quiet rustle from the living room reveals that I'm not the only one who can't sleep. I sit up, hanging my legs off the edge of the bed for a moment before cautiously pulling them up to sit cross-legged, afraid a demonic hand will grab my ankle from underneath the bed. I turn the small lamp on the bedside table on, cautiously stepping off the bed and quickly stepping away from the edge of the bed. I press my ear against the door, hearing the faint clanking of a pot.
I carefully open the door, creeping out of the guest room to find that the kitchen lights are on. In front of the stove stands Jungkook, his back turned to the rest of the room. I make my way to the kitchen island, sitting down on one of the stools.
"What are you doing?" I ask, giggling as Jungkook jumps, his soul leaving his body for a moment. He looks at me, startled, before placing a hand on his heart.
"You scared me," he breathes, doubling over for a moment before straightening again, seemingly having recovered from the fright. "I'm sorry if I woke you."
I wave my hand, dismissing his apology. "Don't worry about it, I wasn't asleep."
"Is it not comfortable?" he asks as he continues what he was doing and stirs the boiling pot.
"On the contrary: It's the most comfortable I've slept in—well, attempted to sleep in. Thank you."
"I'm glad to hear that. Wait, no—I'm glad to hear it's comfortable, but I'm sorry to hear you can't sleep. What's keeping you up?"
I contemplate for a moment before answering him. "Just thinking about things," I say vaguely. "You?"
"Same here," he answers equally vaguely.
"So, when you can't sleep, you make..." I trail off, trying to peek into the pot from my seat.
"Hot chocolate," Jungkook fills in the blank. "Would you like some?"
"Hot chocolate?" I ask. "Is it like tea? Hot leaf juice but instead of tea leaves, you use chocolate?"
Jungkook chuckles.
"Not quite," he says. "They're both hot drinks, but that's where the similarities end. You've had chocolate before, right?"
I nod. "Once as a rare treat."
"Okay, so imagine that but liquid and mixed in hot milk," he explains. "It's already sweet as-is, but you can put marshmallows on top, even whipped cream to make it super sweet."
I perk up at this. "You have marshmallows?"
He scoffs, turning to me with an exaggerated look of offence.
"Do I, an adult man, have marshmallows?" he asks incredulously. "Well, of course I do. That's one of the perks of making your own money—no one can stop you from buying unnecessary sweets."
I laugh. "Sounds like fun."
He takes out two mugs from the cupboard, adding a couple of scoops of cocoa powder before pouring the boiling liquid—milk—in. He retrieves a can of whipped cream from the fridge before grabbing a bag of white and pink marshmallows from one of the cupboards. I don't have to wait for long before he places the mugs onto the island, carefully sliding one to me.