Not really. I’m personally not impressed by the fact that he graduated with honors from a top tier university, or at his wide range of everyday vocabulary, or his quick-wittedness, or his internships with NPR and the White House, or his ingenuity and creativity. Those are all pretty average to me. He could do more.
So you're just gonna ride that deathtrap of a motorcycle into a portal to God knows where?
Relax, I'm bringing my cellphone.
Your cellph--do you think there's gonna be cell service wherever you're going? And even if there is, how are you gonna charge it?
I'll figure something out.
And, while we're on the topic, how far do you think you're gonna get on one tank of gas? Did you think this through at all?
Don't worry. Things always worked out for Grandpa and Grandma.
I don't know which set you're talking about but absolutely no one related to you got to even a semblance of a happy ending without enough trauma to keep a team of psychiatrists employed for years.
Sweat beaded your forehead as you ran through the sea of people flooding the airport, your breathing was erratic and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. Your heart hammered angrily against your chest, where was he? There you were, willing to drop your life for him and he didn’t have the decency to even answer the phone the 14 times you’d called.
Close to giving up your eyes wandered the busy scene desperately once more, much to your surprise you saw a tall, broad figure wearing all black holding what looked like to be a Louis Vuitton luggage bag. Your Louis Vuitton luggage bag. That had to be him. You ran up to the man who was speedily walking away, his wide strides almost impossible for you to catch up with.
“Jungkook!” You shouted, earning a stare from a dozen pairs of nosey eyes in the process.