Over and Over Again
Anonymous Requested: We broke up but no one makes coffee the way you do and I really need a cup so can I come over?
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Word Count: 3,520
It starts with one hazy winter morning and a single phone call.
You’ve always been a relatively light sleeper, a trait of your life you’ve always secretly hated because it’s always stopped you from getting through the night peacefully, but this time it’s a part of yourself you just want to fling off a cliff and curse to the heavens and back. Who on earth would even bother trying to call you at a time like—!
“What the fuck?” You let out in a groan, voice husky from sleep as your hand blindly reaches across to the nightstand, fingers dragging along the surface to try and feel for your phone. Your head is swimming with the abruptness of early morning, the neurons in your brain going at a rapid pace in hasty attempts to right yourself up for the new day. “What time is it…?”
Somehow, your fingers manage to clasp around the rectangular object that is your phone, and you peel an eye open long enough to catch the bright green numbers on your digital clock. The fact that the sun hasn’t even risen over the horizon should be warning bell number 1 that whoever is calling you definitely doesn’t deserve a reply if they’re going to interrupt what little sleep you already get, but you think you would much rather give this person a piece of your mind as—!
You don’t even bother trying to read the fine print of the caller ID before you tug the phone from the charging unit, rolling onto your stomach and—“What?”
“Oh, sorry, is this a bad time?”
The arm that isn’t propped up to keep the phone to your ear straightens like a board, driving you off the bed, the warmth of the covers long forgotten as your heart immediately sets on going into overdrive as it courses through your body. The feelings are almost vague, foreign, nearly forgotten, yet something so nostalgic that your heart already knows the answer before your mind could conjure up a question.