hopekook - your bed after traveling
Jungkook is tired somewhere deeper than his brain or his eyeballs. He’s tired in his bones, which ache from holding his body up. Exhaustion makes weird piercing twinges in his torso—can your liver get tired? Jungkook’s could, probably.
He fell asleep on the plane but it made the walk to the car hurt like, truly, being stabbed in the head, so he instigated a slap-fight with Jin-hyung instead of falling back asleep again.
But what he’s thinking about is the perfect bed. He’s thinking about the cool slickness of 800-thread-count pima cotton sheets draping smooth and crisp around him, about the subtle deliciousness of amber-scented fabric softener and chamomile-lemon linen spray.
When he gets into the apartment, Jungkook drops his things in the living room and goes directly to that bed, stripping off as much of his clothing as he can get before gravity drags him face-down like timber falling.
He breathes in, and the bed molds around him.
“Jungkook-ah,” comes a lilting voice. “Why don’t you sleep in your own bed, huh? Let hyung get some rest.”
It’s a lie, though, Hoseok is already climbing in next to him, one of his arms gripping hard around Jungkook’s bare chest. Hoseok says something else, quieter and closer, but Jungkook misses it in the closing dark of rest.