Worst Behavior

32. one more night

"You don't have to protect me," Jeongguk says, unable to find the confidence to project his voice louder. Taehyung's eyes widen for a split second, hurt flashing through them in that moment.

"Please," Jeongguk shakes his head, letting out a trembling breath. "I can handle it," He says, more of a lie to himself than a promise.

Jeongguk takes one last look of Taehyung's frown before turning away to walk down the hall. He doesn't want to hear what he has to say. He knows how he'll react anyways. He'll cry, and there's no way he wants anyone to see anymore pathetic than he already is.

Right now, he wants to disappear on his own. Fade from their memories until he's nothing but a second of their lives meant to be forgotten. It's probably the pain talking, but deep down he knows very well it's better that way.

He doesn't see them anymore after that.

▂▂▂▂▂

It's the night before he leaves for Nashville.

Jeongguk's sitting against his bed, staring at his empty ceiling. He still feels nothing but it's more bearable now. He's cried it all out to the point that he's not sure he's capable of crying anymore, and the sobs that leave his lips are broken chuckles every now and then.

It's an improvement, sort of. Not a good one, but an improvement nonetheless. 

To think things have come to this. Conversion therapy tastes bitter on his tongue like those curses his parents had taught him to avoid. It's funny really, how he has to repay for his sins in a place that isn't a church. God is supposed to be about forgiveness and repentance, yet Jeongguk's far from receiving it.

The pamphlet he has is also sitting on his dresser; he's looked through it once, curious of what happens in those places. Most of it is 'bullshit' about curing people of their homosexuality and there's more nonsense about childhood trauma that Jeongguk can't help but scoff at it.

Homosexuality isn't a curable disease. He knows that now, yet for some reason he still feels guilty even though this is who he is. He's gay. Very gay now that he thinks about it, but there's still this small bittersweet aftertaste about it.

Maybe it's because he's been living his entire life in a lie, or the fact he's been making up excuses about why girls never seemed to interest him. Or perhaps it's because he had this gut-wrenching feeling ever since he met Taehyung that his parents will hate him for it.

He guesses he'll feel guilty no matter what if he told them or not. Somedays he feels as though it clings onto him like an annoying friend whose company he can't stand, and on others it leaves this layer of heaviness in his chest that he can't ignore.

Whatever these analogies are, Jeongguk supposes it's inevitable when you feel differently for someone else. People are so accustomed to the idea of a male and female together, he guesses even gay people don't know how to react to same sex attraction.

It's this whole new experience for people. It can be amazing and so beautifully nervewracking— like how Jeongguk bursts into laughter when he remembers his first time with Taehyung or his first date with him. It can be devastating and painful to the point everything feels numb— like now.

Jeongguk sighs and sits up in his bed, tossing the covers aside. He just can't sleep anymore. His gaze automatically flits to his window, letting out a sigh noticing Taehyung's bedroom light is open. The tension in his chest eases a little knowing Taehyung is there, awake just like he is.