Chapter Text
Jungkook likes to be a king.
He likes gleams of crown's gold in the darkness of iris and the burgundy velvet falling from his shoulders too. He likes snuggling with a hot naked back to the cold marble floor among swampy-green whiteness of mute columns, listening to the beating of his own heart and quiet breathing being alone, counting the throaty pulse.
He likes taking others' lives away and having mercy, disposing of people destinies as toys on a children's matinee. Trying to create his own world of wicker lace fairy tales and pink dreams sky. The world where forbidden handsome archivist dressed in a brown baggy robe loves his king and every night coming to king's room allows to pull off a rough cloth and touch the olive skin.
Jungkook likes to love Namjoon. Till the insane generosity, till the timid admiration, till the boyish arrogant nobility. But Namjoon says he had already had his own king.