I swallowed hard; my mouth suddenly dry as I watched him. He was focused, completely suckered into what he was doing, and to top it all off, he was busy talking on the phone, his voice low and serious. The kitchen was a mess, but Jungkook didn't seem to care. He was busy at the stove, bent over something that smelled heavenly. His broad back was tensely rigid, and every few seconds, he would swear under his breath into the phone clutched tightly in his hand. The pan sizzled, and his voice, deep and frustrated, was added to the weird symphony that seemed to fill the room.

I rounded the corner to the kitchen quietly, not sure about interrupting. He looked so—different, like a man on the edge, holding on by a thread. His normal cool and calm were gone, swept away by this tempest of emotions that found their display across his features as he listened to whomever was on the other side of the line.