Work Text:
“hey, eve, what does love supposed to taste like?”
this innocent and out-of-nowhere question popped out of her co-worker’s mouth at work today. why did you ask me? , she had asked back.
the friend merely answers with a shrug and a, “you and jungkook just seem to be so in love with each other. i think you would know.”
the simple question got eve thinking, even as she got home and prepared for their dinner. it’s ramen with melted mozzarella kind of night, she decided. she had been craving it ever since she stepped into the house, stomach rumbling so loud she didn’t even get to properly put her shoes on the rack. she’ll do it later, she thought.
she didn’t even take her headphones off and went straight to the kitchen to cook. today was so busy that she worked overtime, and it’s almost 10 pm. with trembling hands, she cooked the ramen — still as carefully — for two portions.
jungkook will be home anytime soon. or maybe he won’t. she didn’t know his schedule today, and truthfully, no one really is — he could be home way later, or way earlier, and sometimes he would have to stay at his station overnight. she’d have to check her phone for his text to know, but right now, she’s too hungry to do so.
in the midst of hurry and metal clankings and loud music from her headphones, she didn’t realize a figure of a man standing in the doorway of their living room, staring at the messy shoes.
the man is still wearing his red-jacket with his helmet in hand. silently, he put her socks into the shoes, and put it on the rack. he smiles, then, as he hears the utensils clanking and his partner hissing loudly.
as he moves to the living room, he rests his hand on the sofa, still standing quietly to watch her busy with her cooking.
and there it goes again, the smile of adoration, and eyes full of sparkles, staring at the small figure that he thinks dances under the dimmed kitchen light. before he knew it, eve caught him staring.
“ oh, ” she says, putting down the pan on her hand. “you’re home.”
jungkook lifts his eyes to meet hers, and slowly breaks into a smile. he didn’t say anything. he looks at her eyes like it’s a rare piece of stone and he needs to study it to properly appreciate its beauty. “what,” she asks, after holding his gaze a full minute. “why are you looking at me like that?”
as if he has broken off from a trance, he shakes his head and smiles at the ground. “no, no,” he says, walking closer to the kitchen’s stool. “it just came to me,”
“what is?” she asks, putting down her headphones on her neck.
he looks back at her, way closer this time, with his chin on his hand. “it just came to me,”
(and here’s the thing: adoration looks so much like the reflection of light on a diamond in jungkook’s eyes. always has been. so eve knows this much: the sparkles on jungkook’s eyes right now, as he stares at her, must have been his adoration. and she can feel it. and it’s warm, warm, warm—)
“ that i’m home.”
there’s this sparkle again. home.
eve knows. knows the very unspoken things jungkook doesn’t have to say. and jungkook knows this, too.
“you always are,” eve answers, casually. she places the plates on the table as jungkook stands to bring them both water. they both sit down quietly, enjoying the presence of each other like usual. it’s a normal evening: a dinner served for two, dimmed kitchen light, and the soft sound of the refrigerator whirring.
“did something happen at work?” jungkook asks, as he slurps the noodles.
eve looks up and hesitantly answers, “no,” only for jungkook to reach out and wipe the sauce on the side of her lips wordlessly. she continues, “why?”
“you worked overtime today,” he observes. then, he holds out her hands to show that, indeed, her hands are trembling a bit. “you haven’t eaten, have you? since lunch? you seem to be in a hurry, too. is there something bothering you, love?”
at this, she stopped eating. with her chopstick hanging in the air, she gapes. this is why. it’s way too easy to fall for jungkook. how can anyone be so quiet, yet so loud? how could one be filled with such an amount of love? deep down, eve believes that maybe god had made jungkook to boast to the world that love does exist in the form of a human being.
jungkook, who’s still holding her left hand, looks up to see why she stopped eating. “why?” and eve looks down on their hands, seeing the stark contrast of skin stained with black inks of beautiful patterns of tattoos and her pale-as-snow skin. “did i say something wrong?”
“no,” eve shakes her head and resumes eating. when did jungkook starts to feel like home, she ponders. “no, we just got so busy that i didn’t even have time for a break. no big deal. how was your work?”
“ah, well,” jungkook starts to say, his left hand still slowly caressing hers. “you did well today, eve. i’m proud of you. however, i’m a bit sad that you didn’t get to eat,” he says slowly, lovingly. “i’ll make sure i wake up early tomorrow to pack you a sandwich. make sure you eat them at work, okay?”
the both of them clean their plates after, hips bumping into each others’ as they’re being squeezed in the small space of the sink. jungkook would hum quietly, singing a song that he knew eve liked. eve smiles quietly, enjoying his heavenly humming despite the loud sounds of water streaming down the drain.
jungkook sings even louder and more seriously after eve hangs the last one of the now-cleaned plate. then, softly, he washes his and eve’s hands together with an almond-smelling hand soap.
he attentively and lovingly brushes her hands, and lets the water pour over. he wipes her hands with a soft towel, and much to eve’s surprise — he brings her hand to his lips and gives it butterfly kisses on the chuckles.
“pretty,” he whispers, smiling as he looks up. eve all but burns red. she shyly covers her blush with the sleeve of her sweater. not letting go of eve’s hands, he instead pulls her into a hug. “let’s dance,” he demands, squeezing eve into his embrace.
he smells like vanilla and tangerine and all things berry, eve notes. he smells soft. he smells like the afternoon air of a blooming garden. he smells everything lovely.
most often than not, though, he’d smell like pines and the warm scent of wood and cinnamon-flavored marshmallows—a lot like Christmas evenings. today, he smells like sweat, and berries, and everything eve misses.
jungkook starts to move in rhythm, as he sings under his breath, swaying back and forth under the low light. “ watch the sky, you know i like a star shining in your eyes,”
right foot, left foot. eve steps on his foot and he cringes silently. “ sometimes i wonder why, just wanna hold your hand,” he squeezed her waist tighter, “ and walk with you side by side,”
eve rests her head completely on jungkook’s broad chest, listening to his heartbeat as he sings, “ i know you know, i love you, baby,” he hums, “ just wanted you to know, i love you, i love you, i love you—”
he stops singing abruptly, as his lips are sealed in a chaste kiss. eve puts her arms on his shoulders and tiptoes to kiss the man who makes her love songs sound a thousand times better. “i love you,” eve sighs into the kiss—and she feel jungkook smiling into the kiss, pulling her in even more, as if to say, i love you more.
*
the both of them snuggle into the sofa that night, rewatching silly cartoons they remember liking. with their bodies pressed together—where his lips are constantly attached to the crown of eve’s head—they decide that there’s nowhere safer than this home.
as eve unconsciously traces the tattoos on his arms—that’s rested on her stomach—jungkook begins to say, “i’ll tattoo your name sometime soon.”
“why?” eve looks up, finding the prettiest pair of eyes staring back at her, humming hmm? “are you sure?”
with his eyebrow raised, he easily answers, “why not?”
“it's gonna be there forever, you know,” eve mumbles, continuing to trace the snake tattoo.
“hmm,” he hums softly. eve feels his chest vibrating. “i’m sure i’ll love you longer than that.”
eve looks up at his chest. “this reminds me of a question someone asked me today,” jungkook caresses her hair softly at this, “what do you think love would look like, if it were to be personified?”
“hmm?”
“yeah, do you think it would look like, i don't know, angelina jolie?” eve elaborates.
after a minute of silence, jungkook finally says an answer, “love would look like you, i think.”
at this, she punches his chest jokingly. “shut up, jungkook.”
“what?” he laughs, but his sincere eyes gleam in the dark. “i just can’t picture anyone else. it shocks me too, you know, a few months in. that one day i looked at you and your oversized sweater and your flowy skirt and i thought, ‘ that’s what love must have looked like. ’”
eve stops to think about it. what does loving jungkook feel like, really? “my friend asked me how it feels to love you. i don’t know the answer to that.”
she kind of expected disappointment in jungkook’s eyes, but there’s none at all. instead, jungkook looks back at eve with a warm gaze. “if a friend ever asks me what loving eve feels like, i don’t think an hour would be enough. thank god they never did.”
“i wonder at what point you actually realized it was love,” eve wonders out loud, sleepily.
“there was a day, and you know that too, when we got sick of our situation. i won’t say that we got sick of us, but more of the situation that was so complicated that i don’t really know whether we’re worth the fight or not,” he says. “before that, i was only convincing myself that it was an infatuation, adoration at best, but then—”
“hmm?”
“but then that feels so wrong . fighting with you feels wrong. that’s when i knew i was in love with you. the first hit of realization is that i don’t want to lose this person because of a stupid fight. to be with you feels just right. holding you feels warm and i feel like maybe you’re my ribs all along, the way you fit me perfectly. i don’t know, it’s just—” he stutters a bit, “sometimes i wonder, what if we never met? and that scares me, you know, that i didn’t get to experience a love like yours. what a waste of a lifetime, then.”
jungkook is every kind of love personified, eve thinks. she thinks of an answer, and decides to keep it to herself for now, that: falling for jungkook was a slow kind of realization. i didn’t know what i got myself into, but one thing i’m sure of is that i’m glad i did. to be loved by him feels like reaching for a star, but instead, i got a whole universe.
this thought seems to guide eve to sleep, in the warm embrace of her lover, eve knows: if anything, this is what love was supposed to feel like.
*
eve woke up to the smells of coffee and eggs.
“hey, love,” jungkook pops his head in, “i got you your sandwich. i put it in your purse already. let’s wake up,” he says, stepping in to wake eve up with kisses on both of her eyelids.
groaning, eve wakes up and pulls jungkook in a hug.
he smells like coffee. “mm, want coffee.”
“come quick, i’ll make you one,” he says, pulling eve out and half-dragging her to the kitchen. he takes her into the stool, and he sets her favorite coffee recipe. “oat or almond?”
“oat,” eve sleepily answers. jungkook nods. with skilled hands, eve watches him fill her glass with such an amazing smell of coffee.
he hums under his breath, “ if you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot,”
eve smiles at him. he pushes a cup to her direction, then breaks into a smile. “i love you.”
“i love you, my darling.” she answers back without a second of hesitation.
that morning, eve knew what to answer to that question.
*
“hey, clarisse,” eve calls out, in the middle of photocopy machines. “about that question you asked yesterday,”
“yeah?” clarisse raises her eyebrows.
“what does love supposed to taste like,” eve recalls the question, “hmm, to me — it tastes like homemade ramen with mozzarella cheese on top. and bitter, tangy taste of cigarette aftertaste on the lips. and sometimes strawberry lip balms. and sometimes it tastes like homemade oat milk coffee. love taste like sweat on the skin,”
clarisse says nothing. eve continues to wonder out loud:
“to me, it’s impossible to describe love without describing jungkook.”
**