tennis ball hits the ceiling for the tenth time. jungkook catches it, examines the green fleecy cloth on which he painted the initials of your name in a fit of endless boredom. he frowns, running his finger over them and throws the ball hard at the wall again, it bounces off, hits and falls into the trash can. lucky.

"even so, she left..." he says through his teeth and falls face down into the pillow. why can't he stop thinking about you? why is he running through all the memories in his head, thinking about your smile and your touches and kisses? what is his problem? he was the one who dumped you, but now he's the one who suffers the most, tormented by the desire to call with a simple offer to return everything as before.

although he's pretty sure you won't agree.

eyes run over the pinned chat. the online icon is lit. who do you chat with? have you ever thought of writing to him? the darkness of the room converges on the screen of his phone, he taps on the case, nervously biting his lower lip. it's damn stupid idea to write to you.

but...

he writes and erases, writes and erases, writes and erases. he laments to himself what an idiot he is and throws the phone away, covering his face with his hands and sighing. the sound of a sent message cuts the ear.

yk, i've come to the conclusion that your bed is kinda more comfortable than mine

he looks at the sent message that he wrote accidentally, just without even thinking about sending it. idiot! he's trying to delete it with trembling hands, but you've already read it. damn! he wanted to write a long message explaining his mistakes, apologizing and asking to talk to him, but only this was sent?? why the hell would he do that. he covers his face with a pillow and whines, imagining how you're already calling him a jerk on the other side of the screen.