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“Are you gonna eat that?” The question was simple, but you couldn’t help but dreamily look into the querier’s bright eyes.
Ah, those cherub cheeks. Your eyes begin to wonder. Honey taut skin.
“Yo, ____?” The concerned voice pulls you out of your daydream, bringing you back to reality. A reality that consists of you chillingly eye-fucking your classmate and your academy’s quota eye candy, Jeon Jungkook — and Hoseok kicking your shin harshly.
“Ow! What —!” You glare at your assailant. Hoseok’s completely unimpressed by your lack of attention. It’s not unusual per se, but it was still highly unappreciated.
“Why don’t you just — I don’t know — fuck him?” He says blandly, biting into your sandwich. Your mother’s food was immaculate, something you didn’t seem to appreciate when you’re in close proximity to your childhood crush.
Christ, you’ve seen that boy pimpled up, paper scrawny, and in his horrific Roblox phase … and still looked at him like he hung up the damn stars and moon.
“No! He — he doesn’t go for prey. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him with one.” You respond.
“Be the first one, then.” Hoseok’s not backing down. “If you can latch onto him like a fucking mosquito, you can suck him off under the bleachers.”
“Hoseok!”
“Did I lie?” He retorts, turning towards Yoongi for backup. “Did I lie?”
“Told no lies, bro.”
“See? Just fuck it out of your system at the planetarium camp. Heard Taehyung’s dragging him by his balls to go.”
“Fucking it out of your system under the solar system. Nice one.” They dap like the pair of oddities they were.
They continue to bicker throughout the lunch period, but you paid no mind. Your sole attention was at the table nestled in the far left corner of the cafeteria.
He’s brooding for the most part, but you could see a speck of a smirk whenever Jimin’s sex life — or lack thereof — is thrown into the conversation.
Jeon Jungkook’s undeniably beautiful. Cheeks full, eyes doe — and forever would be — big and ambitious, and his smile — God — his heartwarming, knee frailing smile. There’s absolutely nothing about him that a person could hate. This fickle called feelings for him haven’t stopped growing, no matter how many disturbing scenarios you’ve tried to imagine him in.
Yes, you’ve imagined many, many things. He’s beautiful by simply breathing.
And he’d always be somewhere nestled in your heart. He’d be remembered as the puny panther cub that rescued you from a pack of mean wolf cubs, who paraded your shredded planet drawing like it was something profound.
Classes were finally over for the day and you find yourself in front of a familiar shrine — Jungkook’s grandmother’s home.
The elderly panther hybrid held no prejudice against prey. She was as sweet as they come and more funnier than both your best friends combined.
She was also your late grandmother’s best friend.
“Hello, bunny.” She greets, rolling herself towards the entrance. You stop her midway, not wanting to exhaust herself. She brushes your ears back gently, leaving you preening.
“Grandmother.”
She gestures you in as you peel off your kitten heels. The scent of sweet cranberries and fresh tea filled the air, instantly making you melt.
“It’s almost twilight,” Grandmother says, gesturing at the orange skies. You hum as you pass her a cup of earl grey tea.
“I don’t think I’m going to live much longer, ____.” She states after a beat of silence. You nearly dropped your cup.
Well that was out of nowhere.
“Grandmother, you shouldn’t …”
“It’s about time, don’t you think?” She snorts before exhaling. “I want to see my best friend again.”
You squeeze her wrist gently, more to comfort yourself than her. She gives you a kind smile in return.
“I love you so much, darling. I’m so thankful that you’ve looked after me and my grandson.” She’s rambling now. “I know he’s a pain in the ass and he doesn’t appreciate what you do, but you’re truly a bunny patterned for his heart! I’m not sure why he’s so against dating prey! It’s not a societal issue anymore —!”
“Grandmother,”
“And it’s not like your grandmother and I haven’t planned out your whole wedding or anything —!”
“Grandmother, you’re rambling.” You point out with a chuckle. Your heart’s racing, satisfied that you at least had his grandmother’s blessings. You weren’t too keen on his parents feeling the same.
“Oh dear,” she giggles. “I’m sorry, I do that a lot. Your grandmother used to tell me that too.”
“It’s fine.” You insist. You smile at the thought of your grandmother scolding Jungkook’s as they tend to your grandmother’s strawberries.
You could faintly remember running down a trail that surrounded her strawberry farm. You knew the pathway like the back of your hand. In your grip was a skinny wrist — Jungkook’s. He’s holding onto his garden hat with his other hand, scowling at the way you spewed dirt all over your handmade slippers.
“B-Be careful.” He stutters out, words coming out with a sweet lisp. There’s a Hello Kitty bandaid on his boop-able nose and a fresh scar on his cheek from an altercation with his older brother the night before. He was youthful — had two left feet and a swish to his tail that he couldn’t control yet.
“Children, over here!” Your grandmother called, gesturing you both to the patio. In her lap was a red quilt, freshly made. You could tell by the way there’s still needles tucked in the corners of it.
“Come eat this pie your grandmother made, Kookie.” She says, running a hand over his black ears. He grunts cutely, pushing her hand away. He wasn’t quite prone to affection from anyone, especially at his parents’ home. Your grandmothers were so loving and affectionate that it was often borderline unbearable to him. You, however, basked in it.
“Here, share this quilt.” She urges, wrapping it around you both, forcing your shoulder to his. His nose twitches at the close proximity. Your cheeks begin to redden under his light scrutiny.
“You … smell weird.” Your mouth grew slack at his words. He’s quick to assure you. “N-Not in a bad way . . !”
“Weird doesn’t usually mean nice.” You huffed out, ears deflating against your pigtails.
“You … smell like vanilla ice-cream.” He whispered into your ear before facing the field, whistling a soft rock song. You’re full-blown blushing now. Your puffball tail begins to twitch at his sweet compliment — whatever it was. You weren’t completely sure.
“You smell like your grandmother’s cinnamon rolls.” You replied bashfully, to which he grunts in return.
Your grandmothers behind you admired the endearing sight.
“I bet you my antic cd collection that they’ll be an enemies-to-lovers trope.” His grandmother bets.
“Hah! I bet you my Chanel handbags that they’ll be a childhood friends-to-lovers trope.” Your grandmother retorts.
You’re pulled out of your reverie by the sound of rasping coughing. You’re quick to aid his grandmother, soothing her gently by the back.
“Ah, I’m sorry, little one.” She says after her fit. She begins rolling herself towards her bookshelf. It’s filled with many books, mostly music history, and she pulls one off the lower shelf. It’s thick, boxy, and full of dust.
“Here.” She hands it to you. You peel it open to reveal not pages, but a box filled with polaroids and letters.
You pick up the first photo. It was of your grandmother, holding a child that looked awfully like you.
“You were seven then.” She murmurs, before reaching for another photo. It was marked ten years ago.
You and Jungkook were sleeping, cuddled over a red quilt. He had his tail curled possessively around your thigh and one of your long, white ears stuffed in his mouth. He seems to be snoring cutely. Your heart churns.
“Keep that one.” She urges, placing it on your palm.
You stare at it for a few moments. Did his grandmother know you have feelings for him?
“By the look on your face, you know that I know that you like my grandson.” She chuckles.
“Grandmother…”
“I know he doesn’t treat you well, but there’s a fine line between love and hate.” She informs wisely, rolling away to tend to her cat.
“What shall I do. . ?” You whisper. She hums, thinking, as she pets her feeding cat.
“I sense there’ll be something special this week.”
“This week?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not so sure, but grandmother tells me you’re a psychic.”
She just smiles. “Well, you better get going. I’m sure your mother would be worried if you’re out too long.”
“Mother knows I’ll be here. I come every day.” You retort, slipping your shoes back on.
“Ah, I wish my grandsons were as consistent. I haven’t seen Junghyun since he went to America!”
“What about Jungkook?”
“He comes with his two friends once a month.”
“Ah.”
After shared pleasantries, you depart. You stroll down the quiet street towards your home, humming a Taylor Swift song. It’s quiet, except for your soft humming, and you can’t help but admire the pretty cherry blossom trees along the way. There were couples under the trees, holding each other without a worry in mind. You smile sadly.
Perhaps that could be you and Jungkook someday. When you’re off your job as an astrophysicist and he’s off his own — perhaps as a musician — and you’d walk down these same streets after visiting his grandmother. You’d point at the red and pink bundles of petals and pull him towards them with a grin. You’d sit under them, your head on his shoulder, as the cars and students pass by.
Loving him was red.
Like the cherry blossoms on a rainy day. Like the red roses your grandmother would tuck under your floppy ear. Loving him was like laying on your childhood red quilt, admiring the clouds as they came by in shapes of every kind. Like the red dress you wore at the fifth grade winter dance, to which Jungkook blushed at the sight of. Loving him was like counting the stars between ripe strawberry plants, hand in hand.
But loving him was vain too.
Like the times he would ignore you for his friends. The times in first year of high school where he blatantly rejected you, blaming your timid personality. The times he would walk through the hallways with a pretty hyena hybrid on his arm, who’s got everything you had to live without. The times he would lash out at you when you tried to comfort him over his parents’ unsolicited treatment.
Perhaps your memories were getting the best of your logical thinking. You simply couldn’t forget what he did for you all those years ago — what his grandmother has continued to do for you. It was reasonable — why you clung onto this shattered piece of hope that he would look at you the same way you looked at him all these years.
You settle against your pillow after a long, necessary bath. Thinking nostalgically was exhausting. There’ll always be a new day and a new chance to win his heart. You’re only fifteen. There’s three more years, excluding college, to woo him. With that wistful thought, you venture to your dreams — dreams filled with him and you and your big dog and two kids and white picket fence.
The next morning, you’re packed and ready for the two night-long trip to the outdoor planetarium.
“Jesus, what did you pack?” Yoongi scowls, scrutinizing your gym bag. It was filled with journals, planet themed stationeries, your prized camera, and an encyclopedia of big science words — and your clothes and toothpaste of course.
“Did you pack bug repellent?” Hoseok asks, digging into his backpack for his flashy, brand named bucket hat.
“Why would I pack that?” You inquire blandly.
“Because it’s a goddamn outside planetarium? I don’t know —!”
“Guys, chill.” Yoongi clicks his tongue. He shuffles you both towards the boarding bus.
You’re searching through the group of twenty sophomores, looking for the eyes that made you fall in love with the stars.
“If you’re looking for Jungkook, he’s right there.” Hoseok points at the boy squeezed between Jimin and a girl, whom you came to learn is a human named Hoa.
“He’s so cute! Look at him in his big hoodie —“ You began to ramble, to which your best friends muted out, instead scanning over the planetarium’s map.
“She’s, like, the biggest simp.”
“Reigning ten years, Yoongi.”
“Okay, kiddos, time to load up!” Coach Gong orders. He’s in his usual tight velour jumpsuit, a whistle nestled in his unruly long chest hair. You internally gag at the sight.
Everyone begins filing in. You’re quick to push past most of the kids, heading to the place you unofficially own — the space beside the panther hybrid. Nobody really questions you, even if the idea of a panther and bunny dating was unquestionably outlandish.
“Gah! Fu—“ Jungkook yelps as you attach yourself on his left, his right preoccupied with his small gym bag. He’s not surprised that it’s you, with your big sweater and pleated skirt and pretty satin bows that accentuated your pretty poised ears — anyways.
“Ooo, it’s your girlfriend!” Taehyung teases. He glares at his friend and attempts to shrug you off to no avail.
Jimin arrives with a surprise attack on Taehyung’s cramping back.
“Bitch, I’m gonna have back problems by the time I’m twenty because of you.” Taehyung curses, but nonetheless carries him on his back and up the bus steps.
“Who’re you paired up with, Mr. Jeon?” Coach inquires, jotting notes on his clipboard.
“Me! Me!” You exclaim, left leg thumping. Jungkook groans, but doesn’t deny it. You pull him towards the back of the bus.
“Window or outer seat?”
“Whatever you want.” He replies. You push him in first and follow behind, allowing him your favorite seat. He leans against the window, earbuds in. With a mischievous grin, you reach for one of the buds and slip it out of his ear. You place it into your own and the vibrations of his emo alternative rap song seep in. He didn’t seem to care at that point and simply increased the volume.
By the time you arrive at the elevated planetarium on the edge of the city, it’s nighttime. The comfort room of the planetarium was able to fit about seven tents.
“Jungkook! Are you —“
“I’m rooming with Jimin and Tae.” He cuts you off as he sets up his tent. You deflate, but instead of whining you offer him a simple goodnight and trudge towards Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s tent.
The next morning, you’re all hiking down the first hill towards the diner.
“Jesus, my knees are aching.” Yoongi groans, pausing for a bit to take a breather. “I can hear every crack and rumble of my bones slowly collapsing.”
“From sucking all that dick?” Hoseok lamely jokes. You both deadpan, opting to ignore what he just said because it was that childish.
“Who the fuck even wears Balenciaga sneakers to a planetarium?” You groan, peeking at Hoseok’s decked out outfit. He’s in his matching Gucci shorts and shirt, a diamond chain clinging to his sweaty neck. It was ugly, but you knew the dog hybrid could wear just about anything and still look good.
“Don’t question the drip, ____.” Yoongi’s pulling you over to a plant.
“Look,” he pulls his plant encyclopedia out of his ass, “those are wild grapes … or Canadian moonseed.”
“What’s the difference?”
“One is bomb as hell, the other … is poisonous.”
“YOLO!” Hoseok exclaims, yanking the blue fruit from its stem and shoving it into his bag. “We’re feasting tonight, y’all.”
“… Jesus.”
“I suggest you hurry up Jung, Min, and ___!” Coach Gong shouts, who stood below the hill, close to the auditorium.
You hop down the hill, unaware of your surroundings.
“Be careful, ___,” Yoongi warns as you bounce around, stopping a few times to sniffle at the flowers. You took your time, plucking the wild tiger lilies. They were your absolute favorites.
You should’ve listened to Yoongi’s advice.
You began stumbling with a strangled cry, unable to backtrack. You close your eyes, preparing yourself for impact.
It doesn’t come.
“Jesus, watch where you’re going, brat.” Tongue-in-cheek, Jungkook’s scowling down at you, his arms wound tightly around your waist. His face was so close to yours, you could smell the minty scent of his toothpaste. He has yet to discover chapstick, but that didn’t make his pouty lips any less kissable. Faded acne scars from middle school lingered on his chubby cheeks. There are beauty marks — moles — scattered everywhere, but you couldn’t help but want to treasure the one under his lip and on his blunt nose. He’s so … pretty.
It felt like a movie; your knight in shining armor holding you like a princess. It felt surreal, made you want to lean in and steal a quick kiss — and you almost do.
Then without warning, you’re let go with a huff. Jungkook walks back towards Taehyung, who held a large smirk on his face.
“Are you okay? Do you need Bengay?” Yoongi asks, cupping your face for any signs of injury.
“Why would I need Bengay?”
“Because your knees are fuckin’ weak! Who stumbles over their own feet?” The deer hybrid quips. You’re quick to pull yourself up, dusting the dirt off your athletic shorts. You fix your glasses, cheeks burning. How long had it been since you were that close to his face?
After a show and a tour around the inner planetarium, it was time for dinner. Your mother packed four meals, one for you, two for your best friends — and one for Jungkook, to which your mom says “just in case” with a knowing grin.
“Here Kookie, my mom packed me this … for you.” You’re thrusting the box forward. Jungkook’s surprised. He didn’t know your mother still talked about him. It smells delicious, like roast salmon, but you were vegan —!
He looks up at your blushing figure.
Of course, he thinks, of course, you’d know his favorite food. He accepts it, not without shooing you away. He didn’t — couldn’t tell you that his personal chef had already made him a five-star meal with the way you absolutely glowed at his reluctance.
You’re snacking on your salad, animatedly conversing with your friends. He couldn’t help but admire you from afar. You’re in those athletic shorts that didn’t really flatter your figure. His eyes linger in the milky skin of your lush thighs. You’re in a baggy shirt, your floppy white ears surrounded by a flower crown of tiger lilies — his favorite flowers. Your braces show every time you laughed and he couldn’t help but be endeared.
He wasn’t attracted to prey, but he couldn’t help but imagine you in that way, imagine you as … his. Perhaps in another life, when you’re both human, and he had loving parents, showering you both with their blessings. Perhaps then, he would accept your feelings with his hand scratching his nape, awkwardly blushing instead of pushing you away, vehemently rejecting your advances because of his own selfish thoughts, molded by his traditional parents who weren’t even there for him.
Now he would pay the price. Controlled for the rest of his years. A gorgeous, cynical predator wife at his side. A degree he completely despised. His parents’ praises, but at what cost?
“Jungkookie, come with me.” You ask. He hadn’t noticed your presence, despite memorizing every scent that you dispersed, from your warm vanilla that reminds him of home to your saccharine peachy aroma that fills his head with unadulterated desire. You had seen him dazed, lost in his thoughts, and couldn’t help but wonder over, wondering what he was thinking.
You’re quick to pull him to his feet, waving a tiny hand across his eyes. He’s confused but nonetheless peaceful in your presence.
He lets you drag him around, letting you point at the constellations, describing them to your heart’s content. Around your neck is your camera, a gift he recognizes is from his grandmother.
You close in on a nearby cluster of trees. “We shouldn’t go in there, pet.” Jungkook attempts to get out of your grasp as you walk closer, up the neighboring hill of the planetarium.
“Nooo, look! I see lights.” You coo. You’re hopping into the tiny forest, unaware of your surroundings. He groans and runs a palm over his face, following after you.
“Oh my god! Jungkook, look!” You point. Under the setting sun is the city. The lights are gleaming, scattered around like a thousand fireflies. Jungkook’s fumbling, unable to breathe. The sight — he’s never seen such pretty scenery.
You were always spontaneous, and he was blindly reaping the benefits.
You cackle at his expense, yanking him down to sit next to you, legs dangling from the ledge.
“I — wow.” He murmurs.
“Bet you’re happy we went in here, huh?”
“Shut up, brat.”
You close your lips, opting to admire the sunset. You’re taking pictures as you do, turning at every angle to capture the perfect photo. You turn to your right and pause.
Jungkook looked so carefree and young. You haven’t seen this sight since your grandmother was still alive. His eyes were glazed and he seemed at peace. You couldn’t help but snap a picture to remember this moment — this moment next to him.
“Are you happy?” You ask, putting your camera down. It’s nighttime now, and you’ve been sitting here for almost an hour. The stars were dazzling, smiling down at you as they waltz through the sky.
“… No.” He admits. You feel it before he does, the sudden rush of weight being lifted off his shoulders. The stars shine brighter as if they were happy with his confession.
It was a revelation.
“I haven’t been since — since grandmother passed.” He continues.
“I miss her.”
“Me too. She cared for me, even if I wasn’t blood. Even if I was … her natural-born enemy.”
“Our grandmothers were never in tune with societal standards.” You kid, earning a chuckle from his throat.
“Yeah,” he hums, “you’re right.”
“Thank you for coming with me.” You say after a beat, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“You dragged me here, brat.”
“Oops.”
“… But you don’t have to thank me. I’m — I’m glad you brought me here.”
“Let’s keep it a secret.” You whisper. He quirks a brow.
“Make it our own little place. Kookie Hill.”
“Hah, Kookie Hill … fuck it, alright.”
He looks to his side. You’re pretty, there’s no denying it. He’s known you since forever and he couldn’t recall a time where you weren’t on his tail, or shyly staring at him from under your grandmother’s arm. He considered you a friend, but he knew you could never be more than that.
It’s quiet for another moment before you gasp. Your eyes follow the tiny, sparkling ball of light, speeding across the indigo blue sky.
“Holy shit! Is that a shooting star?!” He exclaims, his doe trailing after it.
“Make a wish, Kookie!” You simultaneously close your eyes, clasping your hands together.
‘I wish for a love that lasts forever. One that goes beyond hardships. One that lasts for eternity.’
‘I wish for guidance, for truth. I want to know what’s waiting for me at the end of the road.’
The shooting star glows, before disappearing. It falls completely quiet, except for the casual owl’s wooing and cricket’s hissing.
After another hour of wistfully bathing in the calm air and lost stars, both of you head back to the planetarium’s comfort rooms.
“Jungkook! Jungkook! We were looking everywhere for you!” Jimin screams, sporting a cold sweat as he races towards the panther hybrid.
“I’m fine?” He’s confused. Why was Jimin in such a panic?
“You are but — but your grandmother isn’t, Jungkook!” Taehyung adds, heaving breathlessly.
“What the fuck do you mean? What happened?” He’s full-blown panicking. What happened?
“Jungkook, I need you to come with me.” Coach Gong says a look of pity painted on his usually agitated face. His stomach drops.
This can’t be happening.
“Jung—“ you attempt, but he’s off. You aren’t sure if you should wait for him. You knew she was at her last, but you didn’t think it’d be so soon.
“Jungkook. I’m sorry,” Coach begins when the doors are closed.
“Just fucking say it!” Jungkook orders, clenching his fist. Coach Gong’s prey, a chinchilla at that, and he shivers at that the sight of his student. The usually calm and collected panther hybrid was using his alpha voice.
He’s a top of the food chain predator and could rip his throat out if he wanted to.
“She’s passed, Jungkook. Your grandmother passed away.” He glumly answers, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry son.”
Jungkook’s whole world breaks.
He rips the door open and clambers out. He spots you — fuck — he always finds you, and angrily stomps over.
He didn’t mean to say it. He didn’t mean to blame you. He wanted to hold you, to cry in your arms.
“You! It’s because of you!” He screeches, tears bubbling in his big, galaxy filled eyes, eyes that were now full of anguish.
Instead, he lashes out. He ferociously projects his feelings, his anguish, his hurt in a way that panthers do — in a way his father does.
“Jungkookie! What happened—“
“Shut the fuck up! If you didn’t drag me up that stupid hill, she’d still be alive!” He screams, “my grandmother would still be here!”
“I’m — I’m so sorry, Kookie.” You reach up to comfort him, but he just swats your arm away.
Under the dark blue sky, both of your hearts ache. His grandmother was the last piece of your happy childhood. Now, it was completely gone. She’s finally up in the stars with your grandmother, who welcome her with open arms. The only memory of her was the pictures laid out on your desk in red, strawberry-themed frames.
Losing her was blue. Like the midnight sky, you stood under as he pushed you away, crying. Losing her was like a piece of your hope, your strength, ripped away. Losing her was blue, like the way he digs his head into his dark blue jeans, sobbing, swearing that he could never forgive you.
Losing him was blue.
© USERSEOK! my work cannot be copied, distributed, or translated.