Jungkook hooligan

— bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

Jungkook leaned his shoulder against the cold wall, hiding his cigarettes in his pocket. His sweatpants are stained, and there's a fresh black eye under his left eye, but right now that doesn't matter. He's waiting. Every day, like a fool, from four to six.

Because at the exact same time, the object of his addiction rounds the corner.

Taehyung is the neighborhood's "princess." His hair smells of expensive coffee and caramel, not the stench of cheap booze from a kiosk. Jungkook sees the muscles stiffen in the guys on the bench as Taehyung passes by. But no one dares to even sneeze: he's someone else's treasure.

"Standing here again?" Taehyung tilts his chin up, and the line of his neck glows under the streetlight. It's the kind of line you want to mark.

Jungkook crushes the cigarette butt with his boot. He puts on his usual smirk, even though everything inside him is churning.

"Brought you flowers. Stole them from the mayor's flowerbed, the kind you like."

He holds out crumpled peonies with rough fingers. Taehyung snorts, rolling his eyes, and walks past.

But inside, Taehyung feels a lump in his throat. Because behind the fence, no one stands in the rain every damn day. No one holds out stolen flowers. And no one looks at him as if they're ready to rip the throat out of anyone who hurts the "princess."

Jungkook takes a step behind him. Another one.

"Listen," his voice is hoarse, smoked-out. "I can be gentle. Only for you. I swear, Tae."