Afterglow | K.TH

Taehyung's Sketch

RIEUL

I'm torn.

It's time for me to make my call to Jungkook. But I'm just squeezing my phone in my hands. looking down at the bluish screen with red eyes.

What do I do?

I want to go back to Taehyung.

I want to apologize, and tell him that I didn't mean a single thing that I'd told him. That I was just being so sensitive.

But I can't.

My fingertip trembles above his contact before shifting down, pressing on Jungkook's instead.

I calm my voice.

"Hello, Noona?"

"Hi, Kookie." I sniff, smiling weakly. "How are you doing? Did you eat already with Jimin?"

The line crackles.

"Jimin hyung— he's silly. I knew he was going to catch a cold from sleeping on the floor."

His voice brightens, and I swallow again.

"Noona, I'm taking care of hyung right now. Just like you used to do for me."

I laugh softly into the phone. "Jungkook, I'm so proud of you. Keep taking care of Jimin, okay? He gets really dependent when he's sick."

He replies back with a happy yes, and I hang up after saying goodbye.

And for the next three hours. I just sit and stare at the wall opposite the one I'm at.

Taehyung's right.

Rushing to my feet, I grab a piece of paper and a pencil from my desk and shuffle back over to my spot besides the wall.

Think about him.

He was so beautiful. With those cold tawny eyes, full heart-curved lips. And I was sure he knew it too, that he was really pretty like that.

Swallowing drily, I look down and press the tip against the white.

I can do it.

It was so easy in my mind. So simple— sketch him, just like I'd done so well back a few days ago. It had felt like nothing then.

But night falls by the time I manage to outline the basic shape of his face.

And even that looks all wrong.

________________________

Alright, again.

My head hurts as I stare up at the picture of Jungkook I'd propped at my desk, and look down at the floor.

Crumpled paper is everywhere.

Focus.

Squeezing my pencil in my fingers, I start to shape Jungkook's delicate eyes on the paper. If I could just draw one good sketch— one sketch— I'd be okay.

I'd be okay to go back.

Night had already passed into morning, and now it's late afternoon as I carefully make the curves of his eyelashes.