Protégé [Part 6] (M)
It had been thirty-four hours since you’d yelled at Jungkook and he had left your office. It had been thirty-four hours since you’d collected yourself after shattering your phone set into pieces and ran out of your office looking for him. Jaebum told you with a dejected frown that Jungkook had left. Where to? His guess was just as good as yours, if not worse.
You ran out to your car, the chill of the night air biting against your bare arms and cheeks, but you’d be lying if you said you felt it. You went at a crawl through the streets, stomping down on the brakes and squinting to make out the face of each and every pedestrian you past who resembled Jungkook in any way. You had even called out to a few of them, earning you nothing more than odd stares or blatant ignorance. You didn’t believe he could have gotten very far, but after two hours of driving, there was no sign of him.
The hospital’s visiting hours were long over, which cut that out as an option. And it took a persuasive conversation and a few slow swipes of your tongue across your painted lips to convince the security guard of Jungkook’s apartment building to tell you that no one had come in or out since six that night. He’d left your building much later than that.
You returned to the building, your jaw aching from hours of clenching your teeth and your eyes downcast, staring at nothing in particular. Jaebum greeted you, and before he could get the chance to ask you what had happened, you held your hand up to him. You were tired of questions, you were tired of explaining things. But, mostly, you just didn’t want to relive the truth of the matter–this was entirely your fault.