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❝ You were so fresh to death and sick as cancerYou were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hopBut you fit me better than my favourite sweater, and I knowThat love is mean, and love hurts

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❝ You were so fresh to death
and sick as cancer
You were sorta punk rock,
I grew up on hip hop
But you fit me better than my favourite sweater, and I know
That love is mean, and love hurts.❞

•••










THE KNOT IN MY stomach faded away, an unrelaxed feeling soon replaced, the pearls around my wrists glinted, and twinkled Jungkook's eyes as I turned to walk towards the other end of the room when he steps forward to help me with the earnings. His eyes jolted at my cold but rather distant actions; perhaps he was less surprised but more bruised for the sake of his mere secondary ego. I watched as his brows arched while steadily he straightened his back and sighed with agitation.





"You-" he was about to speak but I interpreted by narrowing my eyes turning around to ask.






"How do I look?"







"Beautiful as a rose," he answered, his devilish grin obvious to my attention.






Minutes of silence lapsed around, until, his pupils ventured upon my face with fascination held, they reflected out, he watched as my bitter, cold laughter erupted the bedroom.





After my laughter died, I dared to stare at the man in front with an angry gaze that somehow made him grin wickedly.






"And even more beautiful when you look at me like that," saying that his long legs brought him close to me as soon I found him standing just mere inches away from where I stood, my gaze dropped to his hand as he brought it around my waist pulling my body seductively against his, in such a manner that it made my hands to form into a fist, as without thinking I placed them against his hard-chest, heat radiated through my cheeks as I pulled myself away from his grasp gasping for relief.








When snickering he brought his hand to hold my wrist, and that is when I grabbed him by his collar all very, so effortlessly arching my back boldly so that my lips were at his neck I whispered only then,"Careful there, this rose has thorns you might hurt yourself."







And then I let him out my clutches, with a long wistful gaze I bored his face into my memory, and treasured it into some corner of my heart that was still deeply, blindly and undeniably only beating for him.

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