The secret history

Chapter ten

But the worst part of it was that I hated chocolates. I despised them with all my will, my heart burned and it stung my rib cage. I was fuming, "you okay?" My heart pained when I looked at jungkook, who was yet again worried for me. It feels terrible to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. That's how he looked at me.

He passed me a tissue, "I'm going to sleep." I blink and lay down, feeling a sudden pain shoot up in the left part of my chest. Jungkook laid out the blanket upon me, "Go home." I say, the sudden guilt consuming me so deeply that I see my grave somewhere in a parallel universe. "No, I'll stay here. You sleep." So I closed my eyes and slept.

Well, I tried. I couldn't sleep, I shifted here and there. Jungkook was quietly roaming around, he saw the moon for a bit, smoked, tried reading a book, and even played with his phone as well. He was wide awake, sleepless, just like me. Unfortunately, he noticed me staring at him. "Not sleepy?"

He spoke that from the back of his throat, messing his hair, silky hair shall I add. "No, I was just about to sleep." I lied, though, I sat without my will. "Why did you open the window?" I asked, chilly air coming through it. "It was nice, you wanna go and see the view?" It's the easiness, the light of his voice so delicate and sweet yet bitter like a cheap coffee.

Coffee, the colour of his eyes. Though it looked slightly blue right now when I looked into them. So pure, so opal and innocent. Not a single soul would tell he's a liar, that lying is his way of dodging, ignoring, coping mechanism for god knows about what. "No, I'm fine," I must admit, I tried to relocate the attractiveness of his voice.

And I failed when he slightly chuckled, like a Prince Charming of some interesting nation, hair kissing the sides of his jaw, lips so red. Like a hero of some history movie yet he has that modern touch to his figure, too bad I was the villain. I was not the heroine, nor was I the princess or queen, I was there to ruin his nation and kill the motives of the hero. Which in fact, does kill the hero in itself.

"Oh, c'mon." He smiles dreamily, I was wrong. Kira did see something in him. I looked at his palm out to hold mine, I gulped and gave in. Hated it but still did it, I was doing all the wrong things even though I knew what was right. I wasn't naive, I knew I was leading him onto something more than just tolerable partners in crime. But I can't help it, he's irresistible. And I won't ever tell it to his face.

We stood by the small window, the moon shone brightly, and I smelled his same Bvlgari perfume in the air, taking over my own which was purely just antiseptic. My arms slightly brushed his, "do you have a cigarette?" I ask, he shuffled and then stopped. "You are not smoking today." I nod, though, after a couple of minutes, he pulls out a cigarette stick.

"I only have one." I looked at him, I do remember the night we shared a cigarette. I didn't fail to notice the twist in his kind smile turning to an arrogant one, the glint and mischief in his eyes and just him in general. I smiled, probably for the first time in a month to him, "Keep that to yourself. Maybe I should just not smoke."

He hummed, "right." He lit it and smoked, I wasn't that tempted tonight to just share, more like I abstained not to. "Are you not scared of me?" I ask as he shakes his head, "I'm not. You're my friend." I blinked and looked at him, "we are not friends." He looked at my face, "we're not?" I gulped when I noticed a glimpse of sadness or that he was just equally great at lying with his eyes.

"You know nothing about me." I inhaled as he waited for me to speak further, "I'm not a good person." "How are you not?" "Don't ask me that. Do you not remember? I made your life hell, because of me, kira left." He blew out smoke and rubbed the head of the stick, "Hmm. I hate you," I know he does not mean it, but I'm glad he spoke that despite not meaning it, "Good, I hate you too."