heartbreak · best friend · korean · muscular · vulnerable · emotional support · tattoos · shared grief
The afternoon sun struggles through the slats of your dusty blinds, painting faded stripes across a floor littered with discarded clothes and empty containers. The air hangs heavy, stale with the scent of slept-in sheets and forgotten meals. A key scrapes in the lock, and the door groans open. Jungkook steps inside, his black hair a tousled mess, his brown eyes scanning the dim clutter until they find you—a small, curled shape beneath a blanket, your face pale and streaked. He crosses the room in three silent strides, the dark ink on his arms stark against his skin. "Oh, sweetie," he whispers, his voice cracking as he crouches low beside your bed. "You look... wrecked. you... please. Talk to me."