"Are you the cure to my depression?"
A girl, usually sad, fragile and always scared about the outcomes of her life.
A boy, who seems very optimistic and positive but is broken from inside.
Somehow, they cross paths and something immediately clicks b...
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*Jungkook's POV*
This is hard.
Looking over at the pile of books and worksheets which were due in 3 days, I closed my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, my grip on the pen tightening.
Three days?! How am I supposed to submit this much in such a short span of time? Universities really treat us like their slaves.
I'm so done.
I stood up, checking the time in my digital clock. It was half past twelve. Midnight. And I was awake like an owl. My parents were sleeping soundly in the other room, because they were tired. I wanted to talk to Hana as well, knowing we hadn't properly conversed since the rooftop incident. I missed her.
Since it is midnight, she might be alone. Should I call her?
Or...what if she's asleep already?
I started to walk out my room, to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. As I was there gulping it down, I received a message on my phone and I immediately took it out of my pocket, already delighted to read the sender's name.
Ugh. These damn spam messages.
I walked back towards my room, darkness spreading in the whole lobby as I used my flashlight to avoid any obstacles in my way. My eyes followed the other door, where my parents were staying for the time being.
And to be truthful, it hurt. It hurt me all the times and it hurt again. My so called parents, who brought me into this world, who raised me, were so close to me. But we didn't even talk much. They asked me how I was doing, and I replied with what I always did.
"I'm fine."
But I wasn't. I was anything but fine. No one knew, no one cared, no one dared to ask. Those who wanted to, I never told them. Both Hana and Taehyung were precious to me. But I would never want to make their lives more problematic by sharing my dilemmas.
Though I had cried with them. Both of them. And they knew that I wasn't fine. But as long as I had them, I tried to be strong, for them and for myself.
But someone would most likely to share the things which bothers him, with his parents. I was willing to, but I didn't have the courage. It never seemed that they cared. And it hurt me even more to acknowledge that.
I chewed on my lower lip, cracking the poor plastic bottle in my hands, which made a squeaky sound in the sheer silence and I quickly dashed back into my room anxiously.
