The wilting of a rose pt 1
Pairing: Jungkook / Reader / Jimin
Genre: Angst, fluff.
Summary: The simple joy of being with the one you care for, at such a young age; left to scatter over the floor in the ruins of a torn past. And it has always been asked, why does the worst things happen to the best of people?
Word count: 7,724
→ Part 1 |
Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| Part 6| Part 7| Part 8| Part 9
The tress whispered as a gentle breeze passed through their branches, great drapes of leaves billowing like a handkerchief flying in farewell, the sight comforting; after all said destination was frequent through his childhood and now teen years- and Jungkook was sure if someone were to play his life out before them, the green blur of trees and hushed grins would be more than common between the inked words of his memories. It was one of his most sacred places, an area of innocence that he kept close and dear to him, not only because it bought some kind of peace to his youthful mind, but also because the ground practically heaved with memories forged with gruelling care. True, the walk was long to the clearing, cruel to even the most experienced of travellers, and yet he happily pushed through the tension and pain in his legs if it meant getting away from the bustle and chatter of the village for a few blissful hours. Moss was soft from the log that his thigh was thrown over, cushioning the pull of muscle that jumped in defeated exhaustion every so often and sent pin pricks of heat over his weary flesh. Sun worn eyes gazed blearily over the crack of light that filtered through the plush of trees in colourful patches, the curve of his skull supported into the shallow cradle of his entwined palms as he lazily tipped his head back.
Light breaths edged past the seam of his lips serenely, sighs pooling above him in the warm air, the dark fringe of his lashes fluttering across the high of his cheek bone in peace. The heat that had seemed to send his body into a fluster as he had struggled up the slope of the clearing was now soothing; treading the line between cool and warm in the delicious hue of the evening. And it was all Jungkook could manage not to fall asleep, motion born weariness bringing it’s arms around him to pull him into a delicious comfort that crept through his bones and tugged insistently behind his eyes as he fought to keep them open. Yet, just as he was surrendering and letting his vision rotate dangerously from the heavy tilt of his neck, a small sound broke him out of his reverie. Gentle and muffled, it slipped it’s small fingers around his own and, paired with a voice that practically sung the colours of the evening, it was enough to pull a lazy smile to the curve of his mouth and let his eyes squint back open.
“Jungkook?” And his gaze was greeted by the lovely image of your face bathed in the giddy happiness of the mellow sun. Beautiful in it’s dying embers.