exceptions | j.jk 18+

ch.9 ⨯ butterfly

a while later...

Just a little while after we all finished eating our pizza, we were all full.

All my energy was gone from the pizza. Eating all those slices especially made me tired and sleepy.

I was watching TV, when Jungkook opened up the bedroom door. He stepped inside the room and gradually closed the door behind him.

He crossed his arms. "So where is the little kid gonna sleep?"

I lifted my back from the backboard of the bed. "I don't know," I shrugged my shoulders a bit.

He walked closer to the bed and sat on the edge.

"I was thinking maybe he could sleep in the guest room. Because we never use it.." He suggested.

He leaned on his arms in back of him. "I guess so. But then I'll sleep on the couch if he decides to sleep in the guest bedroom."

I squinted my eyes at him.

"What?" he asked in a mocking tone.

I sighed, "He won't do anything, stupid. I know him more than you do, and I know for sure that he wouldn't do anything like that.."

"Once again, like I said last time, you haven't seen him in 11 years. You have no clue if he changed into a pervert." He tried to explain to me.

"Ugh," I grunted. "Just—don't start anything with me right now."

"You never know, Lil," his words faded as I walked out of the room.

I hated that Jungkook was jumping to conclusions. I know for sure that Taehyung wouldn't possibly do such a thing. It just wasn't like him.

I walked up to the guest bedroom where Taehyung was in. I knocked on the door and heard a response, signaling for me to come in.

I opened the door and saw Taehyung seemingly drawing something at the desk.

Stepping towards him, "So what're you doing there?"

He placed his pencil down and rested his hands on the desk. "Drawing something."

"What might that 'something' be?" I asked looking over his shoulder.

He waited a little bit to respond, while staring at his drawing, "A butterfly."

I observed his drawing and spotted something out. "What is that supposed to be?" I said while pointing out the object on the piece of paper.

"A man. He's holding the butterfly, hoping that it won't fly away. That it won't leave him," he said in a quiet tone, I could barely hear him as he go more into the sentence.

After he said that, he put his right hand in place to hold the top right corner of the paper, on the desk.

He then took his index finger and smudged the man's body figure into the paper, "but instead, he leaves it." His voice turned more dark and his face expression stood blank.

"Interesting," was all that I could say.

end of "ch.9 ⨯ butterfly"
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