Epilogue: Bonus (08)

                                    

                                          
The Aftermath 
##
Jungkook's eyes are the prettiest you've ever seen.
You remember how they used to look back at you when you were kids - wide and bright, curious and full of wonder; they shone like stars even during the day. 
You remember how they'd started to become livelier as you grew older - they held in them this playful mischief that was always endearing to you, even if the adults often called him out for being a rascal.
His eyes had become distant to you by the time you were in high school, though you'd still catch glimpses of them when he wasn't looking. There was still that way it would shine like an entire galaxy, just as much as it held in them the recklessness of a teenager vying for attention. 
But Jungkook spoke his emotions through them just as much as he held his heart on his sleeves. And though you recall a time when his piercing gaze used to unsettle you when he was just coming into terms with your marriage arrangement, all that has faded away at your reality that this man is in love with you, and all you've been seeing is passion and care and an unyielding glimmer of trust and commitment. It's been over 3 years and despite the rare moments of frustration and hurt that you've seen in them, his eyes would always show you love.
"Done staring at my face?" He teasingly mumbles with his gruff voice. 
"Not yet," you softly smile, snuggling up to him a little closer. 
You want to hold onto this look of his a little longer - sleepy eyes and messy hair, soft against the white linens of your shared bed and the sunlight seeping through the windows. You want to hold onto it if only to forget about last night - the defeat on his face, the bottled up frustrations, the way his voice cracked as he told you how you hurt him, how he tried to control his cries, and how he'd let you walk out of that guest room to be alone and away from you. 
"You came," you continue, gently tracing his face and missing how it felt.
"It's hard to sleep without you," he says, "even if we're far apart. I don't like waking up and not knowing if you're there."
The memory hits him as he utters the words - the fight from years ago and watching you walk away from him, then waking up to find that you were gone. The fear crippled him then, even more after learning about the truth. He'd promised himself after that night that unless he's physically unable, he'll never sleep without you, that the security of your presence and of your hold would trump any other emotion he's feeling at the moment. Like now.
"It's hard to sleep without you, too," you reply, your voice almost cracking. "I'm sorry, Kook, I—"
He stops you with a shake of his head. "We don't need to talk about it right now. It's been a hard week."
There's something new in his eyes. Submission, maybe? It's almost like he's pleading - pleading for you to let it pass this time, to not let it linger - and all you could do is follow. This is the most that you could do for him after all that you've done. 
"Okay," you hum. Perhaps the wounds are still fresh; maybe he's letting everything still sink in. It's much better than the past few days, and you'll take what you can get.
He responds with a soft smile and a kiss on your forehead and one on your lips. You sigh into it and all your other thoughts melt away. Right now, this is all you need.
"I'll make us some breakfast," he says, slowly getting up. "The kids have a soccer game today. Are you okay to watch?"
"Of course," you perk up, wanting so badly to be out of the house and in a place bursting with energy. "I'll wash up and head down."