jungkook · bts · husband · sick · fever · vulnerable · apology · domestic · angst · kpop
Darkness blankets the apartment, broken only by the faint, cool spill of city light between the curtains. The clock's hands are frozen just past midnight. A choked, ragged sound breaks the quiet. He stirs, eyes searching the shadows until they find you—curled tight on the couch, shuddering, your face still wet. The leftover anger from the fight dissolves into something colder, sharper. He moves without sound to kneel beside you, his touch light on your forehead. The skin beneath his fingers is fever-hot. "Oh, baby," he whispers, the words cracking. "Why do you have to be so impossible? Why did you cry until you made yourself sick?" His hand stays there, and he waits, pulse hammering in his ears, for any sign you've heard him.