Hi. LOL.

Okay, I know this is a shocker. This book is DONE. DONE AND OVER. I mean it, as much as I love it, as much as YOU love it, the story of JJ and JK is told.

THAT BEING SAID... there's two things that made me write this.

1) Ghost hitting 300k reads. It happened today and I nearly pissed myself when I saw it.

2) Your lovely, lovely, truly lovely messages and comments, especially on the last chapter. The things you guys have said about the story, the emotions you talked about feeling while reading, it means the world to me. I can't reply to you all, so this is my thank you to every single one of you. It's a thank you for the silent readers too, but especially for those of you who touched me with the words you left.

So, without further ado, here's your VERY MUCH UNEDITED 300k celebratory bonus drabble for Jungkook: The Friendly Ghost

Love, A <3

(post edit note: my dumb ass completely forgot that i was writing this shit in 1st person... A LOT OF EDITING TOOK PLACE)

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It must be just one of those days. It has to be – why else would I stand here, leaning my head against the window as I watch the rain fall, faster by the minute. It's dark outside and it's safe to say it matches my mood. Not dark, I'm not in a full dark mood but... gloomy? Yeah, gloomy is the word. It's almost as if the moment it starts raining, I want to crawl under a blanket, hide and maybe cuddle.

With a sigh, I drag myself to the couch, doing just that – crawling under the blanket and letting GD climb and lie down next to me. I'm still in the same position by the time I hear the keys jiggle and the front door to the apartment opening, smiling when I hear muttered curses coming from Jungkook, knowing he has to be soaking wet.

My suspicions are confirmed because he doesn't even peak into the living room to see if I'm here, but beelines towards the bedroom closet. A minute later, he appears, in sweats and a gigantic shirt, ruffling his still damp hair. "Hey babe," he grunts as he falls onto the couch, sitting directly on top of my feet. I sigh, albeit jokingly, and nudge him off me. GD also must sense he's a third wheel, because he casually jumps down and struts his merry way out of the room.

"Hello yourself," I smile at him, thankful that despite how gloomy my mood is, he is still enough to make it better. He doesn't have to say or do anything, really, for me to feel more at ease. His presence is enough, even now. "There's some fried rice on the stove, I think it's still warm. Or we can order in. You know I never say no to a second dinner," I add, laughing along with him. He says nothing as he lifts my legs and puts them over his lap, simply looking at the wall before him with a small smile on his face. I'm not the only one that's in a bit of a gloomy mood tonight, it seems. "How was therapy?"

"Therapeutic," he grunts, no trace of humor in his words. There are some unspoken rules between us, especially when it comes to something as personal as this. We are together, live together and unless we're at work, we are pretty much attached at the hip. Keeping something private in a situation like that is not easy. From day one, I was the one to approach the subject, asking a simple "how did it go". From then on, it's up to him how much he'd be willing to share. Some days, it's everything, some days, like today, it's nothing at all. Whatever it is, he is the one who calls the shots in these situations and I am the one who follows.

"It's good," is all I say, offering him a small smile when he looks at me. He smiles back before sighing, a tell-tale sign that he will talk more about it.

"It's just all kinds of wrong," he shakes his head. "I can't get help, real help, if I don't tell the complete truth. And if I tell the complete truth, I'll get locked up for good."

"You and me both," I add, smiling when he chuckles. "We'd probably be door to door in the looney bin. I'm by no means a certified professional, you were there when I gave up on psychology, but I do know more than most. If you need to talk about the stuff you can't share with her, I'm here."

The truth is, it was a battle. On most days, it was good. Normal, with not a single difficulty. But on other days, things would get a bit tougher. Given the things he had experienced, it would be very weird if he did not have any difficulties whatsoever.

At first it was good. All smiles and laughter, him being content and happy for being alive. He got a chance to catch up with his friends, spend more time with his family and actually build a relationship with me. It was only the good stuff. After a year of being half alive, stuck in some fucked up limbo, he finally didn't have to deal with no one seeing him. He was alive, 100% alive and fully happy.

Physically, he was doing a-okay. His recovery was complete and he could run a marathon if he wanted to. And for a while, he was doing equally fine mentally. And then things got... unusual.

Jungkook had woken up from a coma with a new sense of purpose. He wanted to live life to the fullest, enjoy every single moment and not waste a single second. That was... admirable and exciting, at least to me. And it has given the both of us an abundance of memories that will forever be engraved in our minds, something that I will remember with a smile in the decades to come. Whether it was the two of us bungee jumping while holding onto each other as I scream into his ear, or him insisting on spending way too much money so that he could kiss me in a Venetian gondola or maybe even getting caught by the police as we were about to have sex in a damn park. Memories that make me smile fondly or giggle in embarrassment. He lived his life to the fullest and he had dragged me along with him.

I realized that this was not as amazing as it sounded when he purchased two plane tickets to Cambodia, without checking in with me, without giving either of us a chance to give our employers a heads up about leaving for a month. And when I confronted him about it, I realized just how serious the fear of missing out could get.

I didn't want to be a bitch about it, I truly didn't. With the love I have for him and years of studying psychology before deciding it wasn't for me, I was able to recognize that I needed to be the one to shake him awake, metaphorically. That night was a tough one. To this day, the toughest one in my life. We couldn't live like that, we really couldn't. And telling him that he can't live like a millionaire, doing whatever he wants, just because he feels like it, was something I still feel guilty about. It had to be done, I know it, he knows it, but the guilt is still there.

We both have jobs, obligations, actual real life. He couldn't keep on living his fantasy life. Saying that to someone who was on the brink of death for a full year was not something I wanted to do.

But I took it step by step. He went into therapy, I held his hand. We avoided his fear of leading a dull life by indulging into random shit we normally wouldn't have done. A spontaneous tattoo? Check. Having sex in his childhood bedroom while his entire family was downstairs? Check. Spending way too much money on trips that were carefully planned? Double check.

Neither of us knows if it can be fixed, or if it should be fixed even if it could. It's not something people just... know. And even if he could be completely honest with his shrink, telling her the full and complete truth, she probably wouldn't even have the answer.

"You are the only person who I can talk to completely honestly," he tells me. I already know that, it's hardly news. If the two of us were to tell anyone what had happened to us, the whole limbo and seeing half-ghosts thing... best case scenario, they'd think we're doing heavy drugs. Worst case, we'd be locked up for good, both of us.

"And yet you don't," I sigh as I sit up. "And I get why, I really do. You don't want to put that on my shoulders. But it feels like at times, you forget that I'm here, no matter the difficulty. I was here when you were an annoying presence only I could see. I've been here for more than two years now. I respect your decision of not wanting to share certain things with me. I get it, I do. In some ways, it can even be considered healthy. I just think you need to remember that whatever the load on your shoulders, I'm willing to share. You're not the only one with amazing upper body strength in this household."

He laughs, moving around so that he can pull me closer to him. I respond gladly, molding my body to his side and resting my head on his heart. If I tell him that hearing it beating is one of my favorite sounds in the world, he'd tease the living shit out of me. Hell, he might even dump me. By his own words, he's the only one who's allowed to say "cheesy bullshit" in this relationship "because he died, duh".

"Do you ever wonder what made me wake up?" he asks. We did talk about it before, but not in a while. The entire experience is something we both reference on a daily basis, but mostly in a joking manner, like "remember when I could walk through walls" and that shit.

"Honestly, not anymore," I admit, shrugging when he lowers his head to offer me a curious look. "I thought about it so much in the beginning. Was it faith? True love and that bullshit?" he laughs at my expression, knowing that no matter how much I love him (which I do, insanely so), I don't believe in the mystical power of waking up the Sleeping Beauty. "You know I'm not really a spiritual or optimistic person. I think it was luck, more than anything. I could be wrong. I wish I had a more romantic answer to give you. I'm just glad you're here with me and I don't want to question it."

"I've been thinking about it lately," he admits. "And I think you're kind of right. At first, I thought you had something to do with me waking up so suddenly. I still think you do, but not in the same way."

"You wanna share how?" I ask. Honestly, I'm dying of curiosity but I don't want to push him in any way. Pushing someone to share things they don't want to usually backfires horribly.

"Mhm," he mumbles, squeezing me a bit closer to himself. "I think it's because I wanted to live. Not because you kissed me, or because some witchy bat said anything. I don't think it was Disney material. I just think that getting to know you and falling in love with you made me realize that even though I don't have a second chance, I can make it. So... I did it, but I did it because of you?"

"I like that," I smile, knowing he can see the blush creep up on my cheeks. Only Jungkook would say that it's not romantic, only to follow it up by saying the sweetest thing I have ever heard. It wasn't me. I didn't do shit. I made him do it. "I can get behind that. Much better than you becoming one with your body because I gave you head," he laughs, leaning down to plant a kiss on my forehead.

"I told the shrink today how you laughed your ass off when I asked you to marry me."

I smack him on the arm so hard he actually flinches. "That's because I thought you were joking!"

"I told you that I wasn't!" he argues back, but he's laughing his ass off, showing he isn't hurt by it at all.

"You asked me to marry you while we were washing teeth, you dumbass!" I counter, remembering how I nearly choked on my toothpaste. "How on earth was I supposed to know you were serious?"

"I know, I know," he laughs, ruffling my hair as he smiles at me with that dumb, 100% content and happy smile of his. "Would your answer be any different if you knew I was serious?" he asks. The smile tells me he is teasing but I know him well enough to recognize the actual question behind it.

"Yes and no," I answer him honestly. "First, if I had known you were serious, I would have smacked you. Then I'd say no."

"Wowza," he chuckles.

"Yep. I'd tell you that I'd want nothing more than to live out this life I have with you. Whether it's full of... adventure, happy moments, memories we'll cherish, or if it's full of student debt and piles upon piles of bills. But I'd suggest that we never get married. Fuck the society and it's definitions of what's right and wrong. Stay together for good but never get married," I conclude.

"And do I have a say in any of that?" he laughs and I pretend to think about it.

"Well, if it was something important to you, something that you really wanted to do... I guess I could meet you halfway," he laughs at my admission, knowing damn well I'd take one for the team and wear a fluffy white dress if he asks me with those puppy dog eyes of his. The same way I know he'd never do that, because he knows I'd do it for him and not for myself. "But like... if you're ever crazy enough to actually go through with it, and if I'm crazy enough to accept... can I wear jeans?"

"You want to wear jeans for our wedding that may or may not happen?" he bursts into laughter.

"Why not?" I counter back, giggling away. "A white dress is pretty and all, but have you seen my ass in those dark blue jeans?"

"Good point," he nods his head, making my entire body shake as he laughs. "A paper is a paper," he tells me when his laughter dies down. "I'm more interest in knowing you want to stick around for good."

"You know I do," I answer him. I wanted to make a joke, make him laugh again but honestly, I needed to give him reassurance. Maybe he doesn't need it but I want to give it. "I'm not going anywhere. We had the 'for better or worse' literally years ago."

"I love you," he sighs as he moves me around on the couch, so that he can lay down and snuggle behind me. "You make me feel better. Sometimes without even trying."

"It goes both ways," I sigh, grabbing his hand and kissing the back of it, as I close my eyes, ready to spend the rest of the night just like this. "You're stuck with me, buddy."

"Serves me right for annoying you way back when," he laughs.

"It was both an honor and a pleasure to be annoyed by you."

At that, he nuzzles his way closer to my face, making me turn around and kiss him. It's short, loving and sweet, followed by small smiles that tell us both the things we already know – we're stuck with each other and neither of us has any complaints about it.