philophobia | ksj+mb

-08-

But then I found my bad breath, my puffy eyes, and the makeup I didn't wash last night. So I sat back up, and stretched. Gotta clean myself, right?

Ignoring the crazy vertigo, I limped to my bathroom. The shower lasted about an hour, long and peaceful. It was the best shower I had in ages, no thanks to the tight schedule and the constant run. By the time I finished, a thin fog and warm air filled the bathroom. The mirror was blurred with moisture, and I rubbed it off with my hand to see the reflection of my face. From inside my room, I could hear the ringing of my phone.

Did Jungkook call again?

I didn't think too much of it and took my time cleaning myself up. It's been so long since I had any time to myself, and I must say that it is relieving. I leaned closer to the mirror, examined my puffy and red eyes, as if I had been crying last night. But of course, drunk people can't remember things, and I can't. So, who cares anyway?

My phone rang three times before I finally looked it up, expecting Jungkook. What I got sent a frown.

"Jin?"

"Good morning," he said, his monotonous voice filling the speaker. "Are you okay?"

My frown deepened. "Yes?"

"Oh, that's great then. Have a nice—"

"Whoa, wait," I said. "Should I not be okay?"

He was silent for a beat. "I don't know actually," he answered, his voice a lot more strained than before. "You were crying last night."

I pursed my lips. "Why was I crying?"

"How should I know. I'm not the one crying." I could imagine him rolling his eyes with an annoyed look on his face. "Why don't you consult your memory?"

"I was drunk, dumbass." It was my turn to roll my eyes. "I can't remember."

"Do try, because I can't remember for you."

I bit my lips, the frown coming back. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"You, drunk. I drove you back to your apartment. End of story."

I rolled my eyes again. "I meant the part where I cried."

"Oh, that. Right." His voice softened and slowed. "You just started crying all of a sudden, and I thought you were sleeping."

"Anything else?"

"I don't think you would want—"

"Kim Seokjin, you don't tell me what I want." I said, pronouncing every word. "What happened?"

He sighed. "Fine," he said. "But, before that, who's he?"

"He?"

"Yes, Moon Byulyi," he answered. "You were talking about him last night when you cried."

I froze. My heart pounded in my chest and I could hear my blood rushing in my ears. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

"Byul?"

"He's—he's no one." I stammered. Closing my eyes, I took a deep, long breath. "What did I say?"

"Well, something like, he's not coming back. You can't bring him back, and stuff like that," he answered. "You were pretty drunk and I can't exactly understand what you're saying. Not to mention the crying."

"Did I say anything else?" The words came out faster than I expected, string together as if it's one, single word. My heartbeat did not subside.

"Uh, no," he answers. "Maybe you did, but I can't understand you." A beat. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't sound like you do."

"Yes, yes I am." I could hear my breathless voice, and I'm sure I'm not convincing. But anything is better than the question. Clearly, I'm not okay. But I'm not going to tell him that. That's just absurd.

"Okay then." He stressed on the 'o', dragging the other syllables. "Have a great day."

My hand trembled when I released the phone from my ear. I clasp my hands, rub them against each other, feeling the sweat building on the skin. The pounding stayed, turning my breathing into quick, short inhales. I closed my eyes.

"You're okay," I tell myself. "You're gonna be okay."

My voice trembled in each word I said. And the hangover didn't help.

I stood, making my way to pour myself a glass of water. I can't manage to walk straight and I had to hold onto things for support. My head swayed from the dizziness, and the water made me want to puke.

After a few glasses, my breathing calmed once more and I no longer trembled. The sweat on my palms were gone and my heartbeat normal. The spinning, not so much, but that's another issue.

My stomach grumbled, and I felt the emptiness. I found a leftover fried rice from two nights before, heated it up, and ate. It tasted like shit—probably because of the hangover and not the actual taste.

I ate slowly, because my sense of taste seems to be doormat right now. The rice was harder than normal, good rice, but I can't blame it. It's been inside the fridge for two days. It's basically my fault.

I threw away the paper box. The amount of garbage piling in the trash bin showed how much time I spent inside my apartment—barely any. It's empty, aside from the paper box I just threw and a few specks of dust.

I lied back down, staring at the plain, grey ceiling of my apartment. The paint used to be a shade of brighter white. Dust had piled and filled the whole surface, turning it into the ugly grey it is now, much like my life. What used to be happy days is now just a fragment of ugly events, all in grey.

My phone lay on the bed, devoid of any sound. I stared at it.

Should I call him? I'm sure he wouldn't mind, just like those days back then. I did experience something similar, and he used to help me get out of it. Maybe if I'd just talk, I'd feel better?

"Nah, you're fine," I said, shaking the thought out of my head.

—❦—

i had to disappoint you guys. i know some of you are waiting for more jinbyul interaction but this chapter is byul's. i'm sorry. it's coming. it's really close. i promise. there will be loads of jinbyul.

i'm getting comments saying they ship byul and yoongi more and i'm here to tell you that yoongi is no more. not completely gone, of course. he's not dead, don't worry.

the amount of comments in the last chapter is overwhelming, and i thank everyone for it. ALMOST AT 2K GUYS YAYYY!! wuv u.

till next wednesday,
-w.