ILL HEARTS

21

Jungkook ~ May 20, 2019

That Monday was just another Monday. No fireworks, no reasons to get excited. Stress before the match was eating me alive, and the events from the day before punched me harder than any boxer ever could. I was dull to everything, hating myself more than I ever did before. Nothing really hurt as much as seeing her cry, and I knew I wouldn't be getting the sight of it out of my head for a long time.

But, for her highest good, I needed to forget. About everything. No matter how much I loved her, she deserved better.

Our college held some boring event that Monday that I had to attend or else I'd have to do some extra classes I didn't have time for. When I walked into the auditorium, I remembered how funny life was. As always, the only free spot was in the first row, next to Eunbi. Normally, I would take it. Roll my eyes some time ago, smile not too long ago, and take the seat. Not this time.

I couldn't even go back to the enemy agenda. I could try, to keep us close, but it meant hurting her. It meant being an asshole to her. It meant loving without a chance to give her the love.

She glanced at me for a second, no reaction or emotion on her face. She felt a lot, too much maybe, but she wouldn't show it. I already missed those goddamn sea hair pins, but I tore my eyes off of her, and walked to the last row.

"There is a free seat in the first row. Get out of here and go," I said to a guy I didn't know.

When I was with Eunbi, having a comeback of somewhat kind Jungkook, people caught up on my attitude. I wasn't as scary as I was on the ring. Some of them still kept their distance, but some tried to be smart with me. "Then take it, man. I was here first."

"First row or ER, your choice," I mumbled, rolling my sleeves to remind him I wasn't someone to play with. It was easy as hell to be like that, relapsing into the most destructive habit I'd ever had.

He looked at me, widening his eyes, and losing the pinch of confidence he thought he had. "Okay, fine. I'll go." Scrambling to his feet, he took his backpack and ran. Literally.

Nothing but rebuilding the wall I once had around myself would save me from losing my sanity. Shitty or not, if I wanted to survive, I had no choice. I'd be falling apart in my room, in the dark, without anyone to witness and prey on my pain. An asshole attitude was reserved for the public eye.

I hated knowing that I was just like all the people I hated. I was an asshole, using people for my benefit. I was all the same. I hated being myself in that moment. I hated sitting there, in my skin, and acting like I was superior to someone. I wasn't. I was the same. I missed what I became, or rather what I brought out, when I was with her. But keeping this up was an emotional suicide.

I sat in that room, the lecturer's words not even reaching me, and tightened every muscle I had, counting on it to keep me from crying. I really fell in love with her. She mattered to me, more than anyone or anything I had. She had a number one spot in my life, but I wasn't good enough to keep her in it. I couldn't afford causing her pain again.

I was twenty three, young, free, desired by men and women, but already then I knew there was no one in the world to take her place. No matter how many people I could have, I couldn't erase her.

May 23, 2019

My knuckles left blood on the punching bag after I abused it non-stop for the entire third afternoon in a row. I couldn't stop. I needed a getaway from my mind, from myself, from reality. I practiced more, but I was getting worse. My punches weren't strong, technique sucked, and I feared the upcoming game more than ever before.