He hissed, indistinguishable curses coming from under his breath.

    Jungkook slumped down into the driver's seat, holding his aching forehead with his free hand, “Stupid car.”

    “That sounded like that hurt,” you said. Even in the darkness you could see a hint of the mark, just above his right eyebrow. There was bound to be a bruise by sunrise. “Be careful, don’t drop it!”

      He had been balancing the box of a dozen glazed donuts in one hand all the way back to the car, no other reason other than to show off. It almost overto the asphalt when he hit his head against the roof as he tried to get inside.

     You reached across the armrest to catch it. Half of your weight rested on his chest as you leaned against him. He sat back, flat against his seat with wide eyes. You pulled yourself back immediately, laying the donuts between the two of you quickly as you cleared your throat. You sank back into the farthest corner of the car.

    “Can’t just let $8.50 go to waste, ya’know?” you said.

    “Yeah,” he quipped, “This was a great idea if I do say so myself.”

    “Yeah.” You said, just wanting to fill the silence.

     This wasn’t planned, but nights like this never were.

      You both had been stewing over textbooks and unorganized notes in the library for hours, filled to capacity for finals week, when Jungkook had made some offhand comment about being hungry and taking a break to go on a “brain food” run. So there you were, sitting in a donut shop parking lot at midnight.

     “Were you and Seokjin really fighting in the groupchat earlier? Sometimes it's hard to tell with you guys,” you asked.

      He snorted, mouthful, “Nah not really, but I am getting sick of him taking my stuff. He could at least have the decency to tell me before he just raids my closet.”

       Hanging with a large friend group, there’s bound to be some people that you know, but don’t really know. Jungkook was one of those people. Sure, you spent your whole first year with him at every group outing, watching whatever C-grade horror flick Taehyung suggested during movie nights, spending muddled Saturdays figuring out who would house Jimin after he got too wasted at parties, and supporting Hoseok at his rec-football games even though he sat on the bench most of the time. But it wasn’t until this semester that you realized you were more like strangers than close friends.

      You had registered for the same history course, and since you were one of the few that truly gave a damn about your GPA in the group, he confided in you for help. It was sudden, one evening after grabbing something to eat with the others that he pulled you aside to ask you this favor. It took you off guard, as you could count on your hands the amount of times you two had spoken one on one, but you agreed, history was a piece of cake you said, or so you thought.

      So it was to your dismay when you realized the class was hell on earth. The professor didn’t teach with Powerpoint slides, just spoke for the full hour and fifteen minutes to a lecture hall of blank faces in an accent that both of you had been trying to pinpoint all semester (Jungkook swore it was Swedish, you thought it was Scottish, and you decided to make a bet and ask him after finals). You couldn’t drop the course because you needed it for your major, and to your surprise Jungkook stuck through it with you. Your newfound friendship blossomed over mutual confusion and ‘Did you understand what he just said? No? Okay me neither’s.

      But when you could no longer hide under the quiet of the lecture, or the playful bickering of your friends, you were often left with bouts of long silence when it was just you two. Quick bursts of enthusiastic conversation, and then nothing. Much like then. It wasn’t uncomfortable per say, you liked his company, more than you should, but the space would always feel heavy with unspoken words and undiscovered conversation. Like there was just so much to say but no one knew what.

    “He sounds like a great roommate,” you said, breaking off a piece and popping it into your mouth.

    You had your hair up in a messy bun this time, an unusual look for you, as it stayed down in shoulder length waves every other day. Jungkook liked it like this, he noted to himself, it showed your face better.

    “The best,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

        The aroma had taken over the whole car, a busted 2005 Toyota Corolla. You remembered him saying it was his mom’s first, then his brother’s, then his, a hand me down that you could hear before you saw. When you first rode in it, you made him promise you that it wasn’t a death trap. To which he responded “No guarantees.” You don’t know why you kept getting in it after that. It had nothing to do with you liking the way his hands looked gripping the steering wheel.

     Nope, nothing at all.

    “I can turn on some music,” he muttered to the silence. He fiddled with some knobs and a familiar melody came from the speakers. His expression changed to one of fear. “Ugh, I forgot I had this CD in here. I made this mix in high school of all of my favorite songs. We can listen to something else.”

    “No, it’s cool,” you said, hand out to stop him, “I like this song, too.”

    “Really?” he asked, “I’ve never met anyone else that listened to this band before.”

    “Same,” you said, “You know, I went to their concert a few years ago.”   

    “No way,” he reeled back, “You’re lying.”

    “Swear on everything! The lead singer even reached down and gave me his bracelet during the first set.”

    “Woah,” he said, “You didn’t really strike me as a person that would be into them.”

    “Then what do I strike you as?”

    He looked you up and down, eyes squinting for dramatic effect. Your stomach felt funny, “You seem like you’d voluntarily listen to classical...maybe some opera if you’re feeling frisky.”

    “Whatever,” you laughed, reaching down to grab another donut.

    It was quiet again, song playing in the background as you both stared out the windshield. The sign from the shop flickered overhead, the only light in the empty strip mall lot. Some of the letters were burned out, leaving only “NUTS” illuminated.

    Jungkook reclined his seat, “They really need to fix that.”

    “Honestly. If I have to sit through one more person making a nasty joke whenever we pass this place I just might have to slap them.”

    “You, slapping someone? You didn’t seem like the violent type either. Wow, I thought I knew you,” he took another bite.

    “I mean I wouldn’t do it just to do it, but if I got mad enough, then yeah.”

    “When in your life have you ever been mad enough to actually hit someone?” he challenged.

    Your mouth opened and closed, a thought on the tip of your tongue then vanishing. You folded your arms, eyebrows knit together and lips pursed to the side. You always did that whenever you were concentrating, he noted. It was a face he had seen many times in class, and the reason he often zoned out. God you were cute.

    “Exactly what I thought,” he laughed.

    “Gosh, I’d like to think I’m not that predictable,” you said.

    “You’re predictable in a good way. Everyone knows you have aspirations, goals. We all know you have the best grades. No one’s going to be surprised when you get a good job. You never get too drunk. If you see a homeless person, you’re always the first one to give them some money. You might have a reputation for being a Ms. Goody Two-Shoes, but in the end it’s a good thing. You make it look easy. Its like, oh, that's just ___ again, doing what she does.”

     “But being Ms. Goody Two-Shoes isn’t easy though,” you sighed, “After all that, if you're not on top of something once it feels like you failed. There’s a lot of pressure to always have it together, ya’know?”

     “I don’t, but I wish I did. I wish I had it together,” he chuckled, but it was dry.

       “What do you mean?”

        “Like for example, we both know that between the two of us, you’re going to be the only one to pass this class. I don’t even know if I’m going to have a job this summer...it would just be nice to be certain about something.”

        He turned his body so he was now facing you. The flakes from his donut covered his black hoodie like snow. He tried to dust it off, and they fell into the black abyss by his feet.

    “Jungkook, you have so much going for you, though. This class is ridiculous, I won’t do any better than you. Hell, the whole class might fail,” you said, “It might not feel like it, but just because you’re not in an ideal situation right now doesn’t mean you aren’t in the process of getting there. Sometimes you just have to believe stuff will work out and there’s nothing else you can do about it. Its okay to not be completely sure of everything, I have to remind myself that too.”

    “I guess...I just feel like there’s so much to do, but not enough time. I don’t even know where to start,” he said, “I just don’t think I can make it through another long summer of my dad yelling at me to get up and do something. I just need to look like I have it together, for once.” He shook his head, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all sad on you.”

    “No, you don’t have to apologize,” you said, “I can help you look for jobs if it helps. We can make a day out of it. It’ll be...fun.”

    “You would find job hunting fun.”

    The CD had finished its last track and the car was enveloped in another noiseless bout. The silence seemed louder than usual.

    His eyes flickered up to you, and a smile drew at the corner of his lips, “Why do the deepest conversations happen so late?”

    You both couldn’t help but laugh at that.

    “, we should probably be getting back now,” he looked at the dashboard, “Our exam is in...6 hours.”

    He sat up, hands hard against the steering wheel. The muscles in his forearms flexed with every movement, the veins in his arm snaking up to his knuckles. It did something to you every time, and you couldn’t explain why.

    “Hey, but I am sure about one thing,” Jungkook said.

    “What?”

     “He’s from Sweden.”

    He irked you sometimes, but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed him.

    “Oooh I can’t wait to see your stupid face when you’re wrong. You know what? Let's make this interesting,” you said. “The loser has to buy the winner the next dozen donuts.” You outstretched your hand, and he raised his brows at you, “Deal?”

    He smirked, hand swallowing yours, “Deal.”