ILL HEARTS

11

Eunbi ~ April 6, 2019

This twelve hours work day was not something I needed that Saturday. Neither dropping a box of packages at the post office, nor serving rich people at one of the fanciest and most expensive restaurants in the city. Only on the weekends I was a waitress, though. Besides that, I sold my drawings online – framed, printables, stickers, coloring books. I still had to make a living while being full time in college, and using my expertise to do so was the least draining way I could pick.

I worked in the restaurant only 22 hours a week, but got paid full time, or sometimes more. It was a high class place, and famous people were regular customers. Athletes, musicians, entrepreneurs. All sorts of people I couldn't assign a name to, but knew their faces. They tipped like Jeff Bezos on vacation, and sometimes I ended up leaving with tips worth my three salaries.

I was good at my work, and usually I was able to focus and execute every task like the employee of the month that I was. Not that day. That day my head was full of Jungkook, and everything that happened in the last month. It's been a months since that apple crumble moment, but it felt like years.

As confused and scared of it I was at the beginning, I was easing into it. He was kind, I was kind, too. He was being friendly, like he really cared to change our relationship.

We were always together, anyways. Hating each other, but always side by side. He was familiar, and the only person that paid attention to me without wanting anything from me.

That was in the past. When we hated each other. I think we stopped hating each other. I stopped hating him when he showed he was willing to change, and when I realized the asshole Jungkook wasn't real. A mask, maybe, or a coping mechanism. Definitely not who he really was. Ever since the apple crumble day, we were only getting closer. The previous two years were pulling us back, like an arrow on a bow, to shoot us straight into a really comfortable friendship.

Friendship, I guess, if not counting those bright smiles, tickling butterflies, and the inability to stop thinking about him. Sitting with him without doing anything was enough for me, his presence was all it took to feel alright. And then he did all those sweet things that made me fight off a blush like I was a professional boxer.

It felt good. For the first time in years I felt like someone cared about me, like I was good enough for someone, and like I deserved it. I didn't have the urge to stab these feelings away and hide again. I wanted more of it. He made me believe I deserved it all – celebrating myself, being kind to myself, prioritizing myself. He made it seem obvious that I should put myself first. He made me question whether all of my kindness wasn't a bit too much.

He made me feel worthy, and willing to believe I was easier to love than I thought.

April 8, 2019

I watched the illegal live stream of Jungkook's match again, itching to see it. Watching him do his thing was addicting. I had no idea about boxing, or what he was doing. I knew he had to win, and it was enough to enjoy watching him flex his muscles in all sorts of punches. Not like I watched for the muscles, but I understood why he was titled 'the most handsome athlete of 2017 and 2018'.

This time, though, he lost, which explained the attitude I was welcomed with at school the day after the fight.

"Good morning," I said, hesitant to approach him.

"A very fucking great morning," he mumbled, not even looking at me, and stomped past me. It did feel a bit like I was beaten down, but I tried to put myself in his shoes. Especially now that I was growing more fond of him as my friend, and I wanted him to feel better. I understood what he felt, to some extent. Win a boxing match or get good grades were just labels, but we all had goals we strived towards, and failing them was depressing. I knew it, I didn't like it either. Maybe it wasn't an excuse to be an asshole again, but I couldn't expect from him to change just like that, in a blink of an eye, and not even have a single slip up.