ミ★
twenty-nine
part two
❝little white pill❞
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"Eunha, Eunha," Taehyung's voice startles me awake.
My eyes shoot open as a frail gasp escapes me. My boyfriend's palms are at my shoulders; his cold fingertips hold onto my body as if to stop me from moving. It takes a few seconds for me to realize that he is waking me up from a nightmare. I can barely make out any of his facial features due to the darkness of the room, but nevertheless the feeling of his worrisome eyes watching me intently is not lost in the abyss.
I can't catch my breath. My chest is rising and falling rapidly; the feeling is like I've been given the ability to breathe again after a long time. I push away hurriedly at Taehyung to allow me to sit up in the bed. When I do, the skin of my back peels from the fitted mattress sheet. I can feel the dampness of the sheets beneath me, and when I clutch my hands to my chest, my skin is filmed with sweat.
Taehyung clicks on his bedside lamp. I squint my eyes to adjust to the light, but the scathing darkness does not disappear although it does visibly. I can feel it in my chest, my fingers, and my toes. Every nerve in my body is tingling, and I can barely swallow due to how dry my throat my throat feels.
"Baby," Taehyung softly urges me to look at him. Although his tone is soft, his careful eye-contact behind his thin framed glasses when I turn my head is an indication of his pretense.
"I. . . I just. . ." Words evade me.
The distraction doesn't stem from Taehyung's half-naked body. Although looking at his bare chest and abdomen in his tight black briefs should occupy my mind, I am instead troubled with the vague recollection of what I had been dreaming about.
This is the fourth time this week. Each nightmare is a continuation of the last one; it feels as though my mind will not go to sleep with me in any of four phases of sleep— I am never truly resting. From the moment I close my eyes and fall into myself, my thoughts go into overdrive.
Taehyung's fingertip begins tracing small nothings on my bare shoulder as a way to comfort me, and despite the fact that it usually works, right now too much of my body is tingling and reeling in fright; I feel disgusting. I jolt away from his touch.
He seems apprehensive of what to do. I am too. Our dynamic has been totally upended since the first night this happened. Our usual bedtime cuddles and pillow talks are now just me being too anxious to talk to him or touch him. I stare at the ceiling trying to console my mind into going to sleep.
It's the guilt. I can't get rid of it.
"I keep dreaming about it," I croak through my dry throat. Tears swell my eyes, and my face falls into my hands.
It's as though my mind knows too many issues are unresolved right now. What happened with Jungkook, my father, what will happened with Namjoon, and what is currently happening with Taehyung. The cycle is uncontrollable in my dreams. Thoughts that perplex me when I'm awake frighten me when I am asleep.
It doesn't help that I am not only mentally fatigued, but also physically. L'ange de Noël rehearsals feel longer and more strenuous now that the opening is quickly approaching. I am pushing myself even harder as if to make up for the missed intervals of time since my original audition with the Royal Ballet.
"You're burning up," Taehyung mumbles in his freshly awoken tone. It's a low vibrato of worry.
His eyes are scanning every inch of my body. My skin feels hot, and is probably all red too. I specifically limited the amount of clothing I wore to bed in an effort to stop my nightmares from overcoming my body temperature. It didn't work. I am arguably wearing less clothing material than Taehyung; my underwear and bralette are shear and light in fabric.
I lift my head from my hands. Heaviness overcomes my senses, and my eyes fall drowsily into a daze. I am struggling to keep my head up. My breathing is wavering as I try to catch my breath.
I glance at the night stand and tap my phone for the time, but my eyes stare quizzically at the notifications on my screen from a few hours ago. I want to vomit; Namjoon's texts flood my screen. I read them although I don't want to.
Missed Call, Monday
— Namjoon (2:14 PM)
Namjoon :: (Tuesday, 6:35 PM)
hey ❤️
Namjoon :: (Yesterday, 9:21 PM)
there's a surprise in your dorm
Namjoon :: (5 hours ago, 11:49 PM)
see you saturday 😘
My already sunken heart starts to pound. Ever since I convinced him he was right about everything, he has been texting me as if nothing happened. He never blackmailed me. I never blackmailed him. He thinks he has me right where he wants me. It's basically radio silence except that static buzzing that lingers has been incessantly filling my head as a result. He even showed up at my dance practice yesterday.
Taehyung is presumably reading over my shoulder. I blink away from the bright screen as Taehyung's voice interjects the deplorable texts.
"Let's get some air," my boyfriend proposes sternly.
It isn't a choice. Taehyung climbs out of bed, only taking a few strides to walk around the bed frame in order to assist me. His fingers latch around my forearm to help me find a steady stance. My toes pad against the floor with each timid step I take with him.
He leads me to the living room. I am watching him in silence, but inside my head it is too loud. Taehyung cracks open the glass door to the terrace in order to allow some air in. It's much too cold to sit out there. Small flurries of snow can be seen high in the sky by the moon's cascade. I find myself staring aimlessly into each small white dot that drifts in unknown directions. They eventually disappear into the atmosphere before ever hitting pavement.
The chill feels bizarre against my hot skin. It isn't until Taehyung returns to me from the kitchen with a glass of water that I realize how long I've been standing here.
We make eye-contact, but I don't feel like I'm looking at anything. Part of me is still asleep: not of this world. At this point I don't know if it's the nightmare or the texts that have me frightened the most. There's vile in my throat.
I take a big gulp of water to get rid of it. Taehyung merely stares at me. The room is a dark shade of what translates as blue for my awoken eyesight; the moon's lighting is all that illuminates us.
"You're not getting sleep because of me," I frown. It's encouragement for him to go back to bed.
Taehyung exhales with a small shake of his head. He quirks an eyebrow down at me, softly using his fingertip to whisk away the few strands of hair that stick to my forehead from my sweat. I should find the thought embarrassing, but he doesn't care about my sticky skin or flushed face. Taehyung tucks my hair behind my ear with a kind, soft twitch of his lips.
"Neither are you," he remarks lowly.
Taehyung guides me to the couch. I take an uncomfortable seat on the edge of it. I feel too. . . erratic to relax into the cushions right now. Taehyung joins me before taking the glass away from my hold to place it on the table.
He asks softly, "was it about your dad again?"
Not this time. My father is the least of my worries. It's the image of Jungkook helplessly beneath me that continues to haunt me. I shiver.
I lean my elbows against my thighs to hide my facial expressions from him. My body stills at the feeling of his hand at the small of my back. I close my eyes in an effort to accept his comfort, but I'm finding it difficult to accept intimacy when all I keep thinking about is Jungkook's blood coating my fingertips. I screw my eyes shut to get rid of the image.
The guilt that Taehyung tried to distract me from with the good news of my dance career was not enough to last for the uncontrollable outburst of my dreams. I can't control what I think about.
"Taehyung. . ."
Let him in.
I glance at my backpack that's sitting on the chair in front of me. Regrettably, I haven't been using it much lately. My dance bag found at the entrance of Taehyung's apartment has most of my relevant belongings in it, but that isn't the point. I stare at my backpack because a story I've never told Taehyung is hidden in there, and as much as I do not want to admit it, part of these nightmares have been the buried truths Taehyung doesn't know about.
The justifications he gave me for my fight with Hana, the fight I had with Joon, and the one with Jungkook . . . are just not true. They are versions of the truth. He didn't know the full story. He doesn't know the thoughts I had.
"I just. . ." I trail in an unknown direction.
Where do I begin?
My sleepy boyfriend watches me with puffy eyes as I reach over to my backpack to unzip it. My hand reaches into a hidden compartment behind my idle books; the small circular white pill from the night of my last QTF meeting is there when I go looking for it. I pull it out.
Taehyung's eyes fall to the pill as I show it to him. It rests in my palm. He hesitates before looking at me. I blow out a breath.
"It's ecstasy," I say.
His bold brows knit. I can tell he doesn't want to start making assumptions, because all he says is, "okay," to encourage me to continue.
Although I should feel exposed and bashful in my lack of clothing at the moment, I don't feel that way at all. I'm holding the pill in my hand like a shield; Taehyung is more concerned about it than the state of my trembling hands. I'm shivering, but also nervous.
"Namjoon gave it to me," I explain. "I pretended to take it. Later on in the night, he. . . I mean, we went upstairs. . . because he wanted to, you know. . ."
I can't do it. I almost give up, but I close my eyes to regain my strength. This is the only way to stop this. He needs to know.
"He. . ."
I blow out a breath. My eyes meet my boyfriend's knowingly. . .
Taehyung has yet to blink. His eyes are digging into my soul as if he wants to pull the words out of my brain himself due to his impatience. I pause for a moment too long thinking about what to say next. Taehyung interjects the mind battle:
"You went into a bedroom with him?"
His tone isn't accusatory. Yet.
I nod sheepishly. ". . . and Yoongi."
"Eunha," Taehyung grits calmly. "What are you about to tell me?"
His tone, although masked by anger, is cracking beneath the surface. The cold eyes that were searching for answers are now begging for a confession. I shake my head to stop his assumptions from traveling in a direction I could never take them— a direction I would never take them.
I clutch my hand around the pill.
"They didn't touch me, Taehyung," I clarify. "I'm about to tell you how fūcked up I am. I did evil things."
The more I think about it, the worse it becomes. I thought I was protecting Jungkook at the time, but all I did was make Namjoon want to hurt me—hurt Taehyung. I tried to fight blackmail with more blackmail, but I was heavily out of my league.
It escapes me like vomit. "I took pictures of Yoongi and Namjoon while they were drugged to use for blackmail."
The moment the confession finally establishes itself into the open air, it's like a gateway into all of my buried guilt has been uncovered. I start to cry with heavy tears with thoughts about all of the darkness I allowed to consume me for all of these months: the darkness I convinced myself I could control. It spills out of me now in the form of broken tears causing the words of my narrative to bleed down the page.
I continue in a spillage of cries, "I wanted to kill my roommate when she wasn't fighting back, and I only stopped because I was late for practice."
I can't look up at him. I'm squeezing the pill in my hand as if I can turn it into powder. My eyes are trained on how purple my fingertips are turning.
". . . when I got physical with Namjoon in the parking lot. . . I liked it. I liked hurting him. Part of me wanted to make him angrier to see what would happen."
I'm a muttering mess. My chest heaves, but it doesn't feel as heavy now. The blurry film of tears finally escape down my cheeks when I blink.
I can't stop talking: "and-and when I was alone near the pond with my dad, I had a thought that I could kill him right there if I wanted to."
Recounting all of the darkness built up inside me is like an incontrolable urge to puke. It is like a bucket of black paint, and I am spilling my darkness onto our canvas for Taehyung to see. Will he cover it this time? It's much bigger than a few scrapes on my knees.
". . .and when I have you under me, and my hands are around your neck, my weight is on you, or I can't breathe. . . I like it too much. Now I'm scared that it's not just sexual. . . that I actually want to hurt myself. . . or you."
I'm shocked to feel Taehyung's hand as it clasps over my clenched fist. I release an audible breath when I stop squeezing my hand so harshly; Taehyung pulls open my fingers, intertwining our hands to encapsulate the pill. Our palms sandwich the drug. His touch commands my attention.
I can't understand the expression on his face. I'm waiting for the disturbance to appear; I want to see him uncomfortable with everything I've said, but it never happens. Taehyung's eyes travel around each part of my face as if he can't decide where to look at me. His beautiful dark eyes mirror the softness in mine.
I hiccup. Taehyung places his other hand on my thigh. My sticky skin is not enough to ward him away.
"How do you feel?"
I furrow my brows at him. I'm breathless.
". . . what?"
How do I feel? Like every single thing I've been justifying for the last four months have strangled me to the point of not breathing.
"How do you feel now that you've gotten everything off your chest?"
I blink at his inquisition. I ask myself again, how do you feel? I pause in order to think about my answer. The subconscious that used to answer me is silent now. I suppose she ran out of chaos to thrive on up there. She didn't belong there anyway.
My eyes widen slightly in some sort of realization.
The identity. The darkness. The narrative. The canvas. It's all in the word vomit that just escaped me. It's all here.
I start to cry again, only this time my tears are soft and feel like dainty raindrops against my cheeks. I can't even answer him. The way I'm feeling is too powerful to explain with words, so my body breaks down into a fit of tears. I lean forward into my boyfriend's bare chest, and I am very relieved to feel his touch as arm wraps around me. I find comfort in him.
"Guilty," I sob.
My soft cries fill the room for just a moment before Taehyung exhales.
"The guilt doesn't leave, Eunha, but it will fade over time."
My shoulders drop. He is surely referring to his own guilt. He still lives with his guilt everyday: the guilt I tried to talk him out of. It's truly inescapable. . . our own inner demons.
My breaths are shaky and shallow. The draft from the balcony has finally started to affect me; small goosebumps raise on my arm. Instead of feeling like Taehyung's touch is ice against my skin, suddenly he is warm like a secure blanket. I squeeze our conjoined hands and snuggle deeper into his chest.
"Eunha, you didn't kill anyone—"
"I don't care," I shake my head. "I wanted to. That's the problem."
"Yes," he agrees. I knew it would be short lived, "but we're talking about it. You're talking about it. That's healthy."
"My nightmare," I tremble. "It's so real. I'm hurting Jungkook again and again."
My heart stings. Taehyung slides his hand out from mine; the white pill rests in his palm now. I shift against his chest, relaxing my shoulder into him with an apprehensive gaze at the seemingly insignificant item. It's so tiny, yet stirs such huge emotion from me. I can still smell the flames from the campfire that night outside of the basketball house when Namjoon gave it to me.
Although it matters what Namjoon did, it also matters what I did.
I sniffle. "I can't forgive myself."
Taehyung closes his hand around the pill before pulling me with him down into the couch. His chest meets my back. The cushions catch our fall, and he wraps both of his arms across my chest, squeezing me into his body. I latch my fingers around his forearms and close my eyes.
His lips linger a sweet kiss against the back of my head. "Are you asking me for forgiveness?"
"Acknowledgement, maybe."
"Why from me?"
"Because I love you, and I care about what you think," I say as if it's obvious.
He falls quiet. Quite honestly, I had been expecting him to shoot back a quick reply like he usually does. Instead, the swirling circles of nothingness begin again as his fingertips glide smoothly against my skin. I can't even look up at him because my head is trapped beneath his chin. He is holding me tightly, disabling my movement.
"You want my honest opinion?"
"Please," I beg.
"Guilt is healthy, Eunha," he coaxes me. "It reminds you to be better."
I grumble under my breath at him. This doesn't justify the hurt I wanted to inflict on others. It doesn't justify the darkness. I don't want to fall back into that cycle of blaming everything else except myself and trying to find an explanation that doesn't account for myself, so I don't even think about it. I stay quiet with these thoughts because I know he will only disagree with me.
It's hard not to become emotional. Not too long ago, Taehyung emptied his guilt onto me as a means for us to grow stronger— as a means for him to express his love to me. To let me in. I think it's long overdue that I do the same to him.
"The things I did—"
"You have nightmares about," he interrupts me. "Is that not guilt?"
My lips are still quivering despite my lack of crying. The longer we lay against each other, the more comfortable I am feeling with the idea of believing him. Taehyung isn't the type to just say things. It's been a long journey in understanding him, but I have always known this about him. Does he really think I can be better? How does anyone get better from homicidal thoughts?
"You are too understanding," I accuse him.
"Baby, you're asking me to forgive things that could've happened."
"Yes, because I wanted to kill people. Multiple people: Hana, Jungkook, my dad, Namjoon—"
"Okay," he cuts in. "Every time I see that smug āsshole in the dining hall, I want to kill him too."
"Taehyung—"
He continues, "and now that I heard everything that has happened, I think I will kīll him."
"Stop," I whine. "You're making a joke out of this, aren't you?"
His chin lifts from my head as if he is indicating me to look up at him, so I do. Finally I am able to steal a glance up at him with my new freedoms against his chest. First I turn my head, but it isn't enough. I slide my body against his chest in order to turn around and face him. My palms fall flat against him, and I use him as support for when I swing my leg over him to sit on his thighs.
"I'm serious, Eunha," his tone drops. "You can forgive yourself for not wanting to be hurt again."
It doesn't quite matter that my eyes sting from my cries and lack of sleep when I'm looking down at his face. His glasses sit so nicely atop of his nose, and graze his cheeks as his lips roll against one another. My palms slide up his warm skin, where I rest them just above his collarbones. His eyes never leave mine although most of my body is on display for him to view. I feel safe. I feel seen.
We don't say anything to one another for a few seconds. Our touches and eye-contact are worth all of the words in every language.
"I see the hurt, baby. . . I see it everyday in your eyes, and I can't do anything. . ."
My eyebrows raise only slightly as to not embarrass him when his eyes begin watering. It must be the 5am air that has him acting like this— that has both of us acting like this. When he blinks, a single tear escapes his left eye. He is quick to wipe it away and sniffle away the emotions.
"Taehyung," I mutter sadly. "I'm not hurting when I'm with you."
I caress his cheek in my hand. My thumb runs just below his glasses to wipe away the left over wetness from his skin. It doesn't take him long to catch my wrist in his hand to pull my touch away from him.
He blows out a breath to compose himself. "Don't start with that, Eunha. You continuously put yourself in harm's way to protect me—"
"Because I love you," I assure Taehyung sweetly, but with a bit of forcefulness. "I want the hurt to end. For both of us. We can get through this. We will."
I follow his eyes to his clutched fist in-between us. When he opens it, the pill is there. He holds it up with his thumb and pointer finger.
He exhales before speaking. "Why did you hold onto this?"
"I. . . I don't know," I tremble nervously.
It's an honest answer because I can't string together a sentence. The object has been sitting in a zippered pocket hidden behind books for a long time. It was always in the back of my mind, waiting to be thought of again like a reminder of the control I could have. I don't want to be like that anymore.
Taehyung's eyes focus on the pill before flickering to mine. He is quiet. The room is quiet. I sense that he won't be saying anything until I explain myself. I know this because he doesn't break his curious stare at me; his twinkling eyes dance back and forth between my eyes.
He was right to keep quiet. My cluttered thoughts are able to slowly work themselves out as the silence continues. I lower his hand, and the pill, before releasing a deep breath.
"I was going to throw it away. . ." I spill, "but part of me wondered what would've happened to me if I had taken it."
My boyfriend's eyebrow merely quirks at my confession of wanting to try the drug that Namjoon planned to take advantage of me with. It doesn't sound sane when spoken aloud, but even with my new epiphany and change of heart, I am still curious as to what could've happened.
"So, you want to take it?"
Taehyung glances down at our now conjoined hands and then back up at me. I tighten my thighs around his torso with a shake of my head.
"No, that is not what I said," I roll my eyes. "Part of me did."
His rounded eyes widen just a bit from my expression. I can see from the twitch of his lip that my slight attitude is fueling his verbal weaponry of taunting.
"Where did she go?"
"Stop," I whine. "You're mocking me. . ."
"Baby," he levels with me softly, "I just want you to talk to me. I feel like. . . like these nightmares, these secrets. . . this outburst. . . is partly because you are internalizing too much."
I furrow my eyebrows at my incredibly thoughtful boyfriend.
"You're the only person I can talk to."
"I'm listening," he urges me with sincere eyes. "Eunha. . ."
I don't know what to say. The problem is that I have too much to say. While looking down at Taehyung, and everything he has done for me. . . everything that he continues to do for me. . . I am filled with so much love; joy; and most of all— hope. This white pill in-between us is the epitome of everything opposite from those feelings.
There's hope for us to get through this. There's hope for me to get through everything that happened. This pill is a physical embodiment of the path I could've chosen. It wasn't just the ecstasy taking advantage of me. . . it was me sabotaging myself.
"I'm thinking. . ." I trail. My fingertips brush against his when I grab the pill from his clasp. "Toilet?"
Taehyung seems surprised by my request. I sniffle the last bit of my tears and bite a smile.
Luckily, Taehyung doesn't make me request anything further. His strong core helps his body sit up on the couch, and his lips meet mine lingeringly. I accept his intimacy with a chest filled with the love, joy and hope I wish for us to have the moment I rid myself of the darkness. His lips feel like bursts of sunshine against me; I welcome him with crumbling walls.
With my eyes closed and my body in a trance at the feeling of his lips against me, I almost don't notice when he lifts me up while climbing out of the couch. My arms subconsciously wrap around his neck from atop his shoulders, lost in his touch. My legs encase his torso, and I can feel his palms flattened against my butt, holding me securely with each stride he takes away from the cold air from the balcony.
My back brushes against his bedroom door and then the bathroom door. My chest is heaving against his when he finally pulls away from me. I don't want him to. I pull him in again for a lazy kiss. My boyfriend sits me on top of the sink.
"Taehyung. . ." I mutter.
"The guilt won't go with it," he reminds me.
I glance at the toilet and then the pill in my hand.
Namjoon's eyes are staring back at me while I look at the drug. He's the one mocking me. He wanted to make a fool out of me, and to spite him I went to dark and deep lengths. He bested me and he knows it. That stupid smirk of his when he told me, "We have more in common than you think, Eunha." He knew what he was talking about.
This is the end of that.
"It will remind me to be better," I repeat Taehyung's words about guilt. The words are almost incoherent due to how dry my throat feels.
Staring at the ecstasy only reminds me of my guilt. I sigh sadly. I suppose that's how Taehyung feels everyday when he is reminded of it all. How does he bear it?
"I love you," Taehyung mumbles against me. He leaves a sweet kiss at my shoulder.
I blink away from the inanimate object and look at him. My fingers are trembling at the intense surge of different inexplicable emotions I feel at the moment. Taehyung is what gives me hope that I can be strong. When I'm left by myself, convincing myself that I can thrive in the darkness, I am weak. The Angel took over the darkness. She wanted to live within it. That's not me.
The white object tumbles from my palm and drops into the water where it belongs. Insignificant. Trash. It is no different than the bodily functions that will follow it down there. I lean over and press my finger down on the pedal and flush the toilet. It's gone forever.
The mundane sound of the toilet flushing should not give me such a profound feeling. . . but it does. Most mundane things give me profound feelings these days. For instance, with my eyes intent on bathroom objects, I am just now noticing that Taehyung switched his toothpaste from mint to spearmint. I made a sly comment about preferring spearmint gum a few days ago. My cheeks heat.
I catch his shoulder in my hands. "I love you too much. . ."
"Too much?" he hums.
His soft lips meet the skin just below my earlobe. The shivers that were once products of my chaotic mind are now captivated signs of my affection towards my boyfriend. I close my eyes, enchanted by the feeling of his lips dragging against my neck. He leaves sparing kisses in all the right places. I lean back into the sink, barely able to hold on to the edges of the counter as his body presses into me.
I allow myself to fall back. My head leans against the mirror behind me, but I don't care. My hands have more to do than steady myself. My fingertips meet the nape of his neck where I catch the ends of his hair before I slowly move upwards towards his scalp. His strands of hair tickle my knuckles.
"We. . . should. . . sleep," he mumbles between lingering kisses.
I feel barren because he pulls away from me. He is talking about actual sleep. I can't hide my dissatisfaction. My core is hot, my face is flushed, and my legs are spread open for him as I sit here in the sink. Sleeping was the last thing on my mind. His lips, his touch. . . they make it go away.
I grow embarrassed. I insecurely cover my chest and lean forward away from the mirror. My eyes drop to the floor.
He is perceptive as ever: "Eunha."
He reaches for my hand to take. I slyly bring it to my neck as a physical indication of my discomfort.
"You go," I grumble. "I have to shower."
I continue to stare at the floor as a hint for him to leave me alone. I feel embarrassed because I so easily fixate on him. On us. Our intimacy. I am growing to understand these things now that I am trying to be better. I am scared for moments in which he won't be here to caress me. Even now, with him here only a few inches away from me, my fingers tremble with the idea that I won't be able to reach forward and touch him again. It can all be taken away.
Just a week ago I thought sēx was able to make him stop worrying. It's really just for me to stop worrying.
Even the air is now uncomfortable because Taehyung is still waiting for me to look up from the floor. I give in. Our eyes meet, and his rounded dark ones meet my glossy puffy ones. I swallow hard and slide down from the counter until my toes reach the cold tiled floor. I feel exposed now that I am no longer emotionally vulnerable for him, but sexually vulnerable for him.
My shear bralette and underwear are rather useless at hiding anything that I am attempting to with my arms.
"What are you waiting for?" I ask ignorantly. "I won't be long. Sleep."
I turn away from him and start searching for a towel. Although my back is to him, I can feel his stare. I grab one of his dark green towels from the linen. As I'm pulling the material towards my body, Taehyung's arms wrap around me. I feel his bare chest against my back; his arms secure me better than the towel. His muscles contract and expand to comfortably hold me.
"Taehyung," I sigh. "You're making this worse. Please just go. I'm tired and embarrassed."
I allow my true feelings to tumble from my lips, and somehow it comforts me to express myself. I feel much lighter without the weight of my overbearing thoughts on my chest. Taehyung's arms settle there much better anyway. I don't have that annoying opposition of a subconscious to fight me anymore, either.
"Baby," he breathes softly. I feel his lips against my neck again. I shy away from him. He kisses my skin nevertheless.
"Don't prolong this."
"I'm not," he murmurs against me. "I want to."
"No you don't." I remind him, "go to sleep."
"Eunha," he complains softly. It's endearing. "I was trying to be selfless."
Taehyung's fingertips brush away my bralette strap, causing the material to fall off my shoulder. I clutch the towel closer to my chest to hide my bare breast from him. I still feel embarrassed although Taehyung is trying to proceed in exactly what I wanted to do. My head falls back into his chest and to the side as his lips continue; this time he drags his lips up from my collarbones and to my neck. My eyes can barely stay open as he softly nibbles.
"I. . . I. . ." my thoughts have vanished.
He rolls his hips gently into my behind. It was on purpose due to how clearly I can feel his growing hardness. Taehyung continues to suck and pull gently on my neck.
"How about right here?" he mumbles naughtily.
My eyebrows raise in slight shock when I feel his hands down at where his length is straining against me. His fingertip slips under my underwear, lifting the material as if wanting to merely push it to the side for him to enter. His palm cups my āss.
"Romantic," I breathe, humored.
"We're in a bathroom, baby," he chuckles along with me deeply.
It's hard to gather together words when his lips are on me. He is so gentle. . . I feel like each kiss is especially cultivated just for me. It's as if every touch has been waiting for me all of my life.
My defense is merely a stream of unconsciousness. "I have to shower. . ."
"In the shower, then?"
I can't say I've never thought of the idea. With his body against mine, and the feelings of intensity and hotness returning to me, it's difficult to let my intimidation for the sexual setting to deter me from trying this with him. This is okay, right? He wants to do this with me? I'm not projecting my anxieties onto him, am I? No. We're doing this because we want to. This has nothing to do with wanting to forget about everything. . .
Oh no. I switched one overbearing subconscious out for another.
"You want to?" I can't help but ask insecurely.
I turn around and face him. I reach my hand up to his cheek as if to make sure he is alright. His flushed cheeks are beautiful and his swollen lips curve upward in delight at my confident eye-contact. Taehyung's eyes dance around my features.
He leans in and kisses my wrist. "I suggested sleep because you need it."
"Do you want to sleep?"
He grabs the towel from me. The dark green material falls to the floor. With my bare breast now exposed to him from his prior handiwork, he shakes his head before cupping my breast in his hand. His other hand snakes behind my neck before he pulls me in to kiss him. My mouth opens easily for him. I don't want to stop him when I feel his tongue; the wetness feels as though it's on my aching chest. His fingers playfully tug at my nipple before he urges me to follow him into the shower.
It doesn't matter if I've never done this before. . . because I'm with him. Taehyung turns on the shower and immediately I'm thrown into a fantasy. The water cascades down on our bodies, a bit cold at first until steaming up and warming our flushed skin.
"Your glasses," I giggle at him. They are fogging up.
I take the thin frames into my hand before quickly setting them down on the counter. I am too slow, apparently, because Taehyung grabs my waist and lifts me up to join him impatiently. I let out an involuntary shout followed by laughter as he brings my back into his chest. I can feel his smile.
My hair is heavy and dragging down against my shoulders now with all of the water. I ring it out before turning and meeting our lips again. Our skin is wet and glistening in the lighting, and our laughter is quickly drowned out by passionate kisses and touches. Taehyung's hands follow the natural curve of my body before returning to my breasts again.
My undergarments are drenched. Taehyung's skillful hands unclasp my bralette. The material is peeled away from my skin before plopping into the ground. The water allows for my boyfriend's hands to slip and slide whenever they please. Taehyung urges my legs to wrap around his torso before he lifts me. My back meets the wall where he steadies me.
I try to ignore the yearning inside of me wanting him to be rougher. The way he holds me is gentle; caressing. His mouth is fragile when he takes my breast into it. Even his tongue, as it swirls around my sensitive nub. My hands fall into his damp hair. Small ringlets have started to form. I make sure to push all of his hair away from his eyes so that I can look at him; I watch as his mouth overcomes my chest. He can't choose where to focus, but although he is incredibly hot and his mouth is commanding me, he feels different.
Why is he being so gentle?
I drop my hands to his shoulders and push gently for him to look at me. The only sound is of our breaths being drowned out by the running water. He runs his tongue upward in the valley of my breasts before pecking my cheek. We look at one another.
I furrow my eyebrows at him, quizzically. "Taehyung?"
The gentleness of my voice mirrors the ambiance in the shower. With the water spraying us like a midnight rainstorm, the low glistening lighting, and the droplets pelting softly against the shower floor, the atmosphere has become incredibly, horrifyingly erotic and thematically upsetting.
Taehyung's cheek falls into my chest just below my collarbones. His hands slide to encase me around my back, bringing me into a hug. I catch his head in my hands, my forearms shielding him from the water as my fingertips rest in his hair. We stand in the shower, under the warm rays of water, standing. . . embracing one another.
"Baby. . ." he trails off apprehensively.
"Taehyung—"
"Eunha," he interrupts me. His deep voice is on the verge of breaking. I can't see his face, but I wish I could. His knitted eyebrows are probably trying to stop an influx of emotions. "There's so much pain because of me. All of my secrets—"
"No," I insist reverently. "There's love. So much love because of you. . . I love you. We will figure all of this out."
I pull lightly at his hair in order to force him to look at me. I swallow my surprise at his blurry, blood-shot eyes. He is crying into my chest.
I kiss his forehead. His arms tighten around me.
I lean forward and catch his swollen lips with mine. I am relieved that he doesn't pull away. His sad lips follow only a bit behind mine when I deepen our kiss. With my eyes closed, I can feel the water as it drips slowly down my face, collecting at my lashes, before running down my cheek like a freshwater stream. Taehyung is holding me so tightly that my chest is restricted; breathing is a bit uncomfortable, but I grow pleasure at the dull pain. Our lips grow hungrier, and I can tell by the way his fingertips are latching into my skin that he is falling into the depths of our passion as well.
He holds me now with his arms like the straps of a backpack; Taehyung's palms tightly wound against my shoulders, fingertips controlling the way in which my body moves against him. With his bare chest against me, I feel at peace. My arm drapes over him, and I raise it to get lost in his hair again. My other hand falls between us, where I can feel his hardness growing against me as he has me pinned against the shower wall. I like this.
He doesn't drop his embrace around me. What does he want to do? His hands stay latched onto me, hugging me, as if he is scared to release my body. The way his mouth is against me, however, and the feeling of his extremity, tells me that he does not intend to be passive.
"No pain. . ." I trail sensually. My words are more like breaths trapped in his mouth. "Just us."
I dip my hand under the material of his briefs. The black material is now even tighter and heavier with the added pressure from the water. We are still at each other's mouths when my small hand encapsulates his length into it. My soft palm slicks over his skin, moving slowly in a jerking motion just as he has shown me.
His mouth is all over me once that begins. He starts to lose focus at my lips, before he is at my cheek, and now settling at my jaw where he is still sweetly, gently, leaving kisses and sucking at me. He doesn't want to inflict any pain.
I can't control my responses to his touch as I pull on his hair. The feeling of his length in my hand, the thought of him inside me, and his mouth all over my drenched skin. . . my body is instinctually reforming to its primitive angst and roughness that I desperately covet in our alone time. It's the only place where the pain feels good.
"I love you," he croaks, vibrating lowly against my skin.
His fragile voice disrupts my urges. I don't want to push him over any boundaries. I release his strands from my tough grasp and settle for his shoulder. I control what I do, and match his sweet nibbles and kisses with soft touches and slow pumps against his length. We are having sēx unlike ourselves: soft, calm, gentle. He was last like this when I lost my virginity. I mimic him.
Taehyung begins shaking his head against me the moment I succumb to the conscious actions. He pushes me more harshly against the wall, where I'm forced to clutch onto his skin to stop myself from letting out forced breaths. My slow touches at his member are met with swift thrusts of his hips. I ogle in confusion for a moment until I realize he is trying to roughen me up.
"I-I. . ." I trail breathlessly. "I don't want to hurt you either."
He silences me with a soft kiss. His actions are in great contrast to what he asking me to do. What does this mean? I mean, even his hands. I am used to the way he gropes my skin before slapping me. . . it is so sexy. The gentleness is sexy too. . . but it is different.
"You can't hurt me," he promises.
I blink at his words. He is surely responding to the emotional outburst of inner secrets I told him while crying into his arms on the couch.
I close my eyes to distract myself from how my boyfriend is a handcrafted enigma who strolled into my life for all of the most perfect reasons. My heart becomes so full, and my yearn for him becomes so immense, that I can't stop myself from skipping all of the formalities of sēx; my hand works skillfully at exposing his erect length outside of his briefs. I do exactly what he hinted at before. . . I guide him inside me. My panties swiftly make room for him. We both release a chorus of sounds together when I relieve both of us of the anticipation.
It's all so different. He is inside me without a barrier. No condom. Does he notice? He must. Neither of us say anything. Neither of us move. For the first few seconds we are both still as he fills me. My eyebrows furrow upward and I let out a cry of pleasure as I sink down onto him.
I press my forehead against his. My eyes peer down, narrowing at his eyes as we stare at one another. My hand lifts to his cheek where I hold his jaw. I suck in a sharp breath when his hips rock forward into me. I have fully sunken down onto him. My face twists. He is so deep inside me I feel like fainting.
I almost feel nervous. "Tae. . ."
My fingernails dig into his chest to feign my feelings. He thrusts into me again, pulling almost completely out before filling me. My insides can barely make room for him. The growing smirk on his face as he watches my expression surely shows me he knows exactly what he's doing.
"Oh, Christ," I cry.
The slowness is catching me off guard. I can feel everything. We have never had sex in this position. He is holding me so still. . . my body feels numb. It's as if we are connected, which we literally are, but Taehyung is staring at me. . . so deeply. His glossy eyes are watching for every small movement I make. I bang my fist against his chest in a small fit.
He shifts into me again. My thighs are shaking. I am longing for him to continue, but he doesn't.
"Please," I beg. My frustration is apparent by my tone of voice. He seems to be enjoying it. . . he wants me to be frustrated?
"Just. . . we can't. . . without a condom. . ."
My legs can barely withstand his deep thrusts into me. I am struggling to keep them wrapped around his torso.
"Yes, we can," he assures me huskily. "Trust me."
"Does it feel better without?" I wonder.
"Eunha," he calls out my nervous small-talk.
My eyes are tearing. The frustration of his lack of movement when I want him to is building too high. I bite down on my lip so hard that I can feel blood. When I try to sway my own hips, Taehyung's arms restrict me. I impulsively feel like slapping him out of annoyance; my hand lifts to do so, but I stop myself.
"Yes," Taehyung coerces me sensually. He glances at my raised hand. His low tone of voice is assertive. "I want it."
The sexy words dabble from his lips lowly; Taehyung's lips are near my ears, spreading a tingling feelings all over my body.
"I don't. . . want to hurt you."
"Impossible," he incites me.
I have been wondering what Taehyung would think of I started being as rough as him during sēx, and now he is forcing my hand at it.
"Stop," I cry.
"Oh, Angel. . ." he licks his lips. "You want to know how hard I get thinking of you?"
His dirty words are unexpected. My cheeks are flushed just from the first few words.
"How much I love to pull your hair. . . smack your skin. . . bite you. . ."
His hips are moving along with the intensely motivating words he is practically breathing on to me. Taehyung's arm that has been hooked around me finally falls to the wall behind us. He lifts me to reposition my body into his length. My mouth falls agape and I cry out at the different angle.
"I love my hands around your neck. . ." he grumbles.
For the things he is saying, Taehyung is still being especially compassionate with his soft hold of my body and calm hip movements into me.
". . . your hands around mine."
He presses his lips to my cheek. I'm sure he can feel how hot my skin is.
I bite my lip again to stop the moans that want to escape me. The slow, sensual nature of his words and the way they leave his lips are matched perfectly with the way his body is rolling into me. Paired with his deep voice dancing around the water spraying us from above. . . I must be dreaming.
My fingertips tingle at his collarbones. I hold onto him tightly.
"You won't hurt me."
I worry. "What if it isn't sexual?"
"It is," he grunts assuringly.
It's hard for me to find the breath to talk to him. Everything feels so good. . .
"You-You don't know the thoughts I have."
"Try me."
My fingers dig down into his shoulder again when our hips roll into one another. I moan out loudly due to how immense the feeling is. I am nodding for him to continue, but he stops the moment my fingernails stop digging into him. He wants me to hurt him this much?
The dark thoughts of overcoming him, taking him by the throat, or slapping him are starting to flood into my mind again. I'm supposed to be pushing all of this away. I flushed these thoughts down the drain with everything else, yet Taehyung is trying to assure me nothing is wrong with what I want. I cry out again and again with the feeling of his length. He is purposely shortening his movements.
"Taehyung," I grouse unhappily.
He taunts lowly, "baby. . ."
His other arm finally drops to my thigh. He uses his hand to cup me beneath it in order to help us move against each other. I give in to the pleasure because I know he will continue if I do. My eyes close drowsily and my fingers are twiddling at the roots of his hair again. The dark feeling in the pit of my stomach to pull returns. I don't stop myself.
He kneads my thigh in his hand as a response to my pulling. Finally.
"Yes," I cry.
I clench my jaw as I start to feel the familiar pulse of pleasure inside me. Taehyung's low grunts are swallowed beautifully by the waterfall. I almost feel like we are lost in a mystic forest beneath a natural cliff. With my eyes closed, it is easy to think of that. My hand falls to his back where my nails find refuge in sinking into him. I can't keep the pleasure at bay.
The skin of my thigh is sore from his dominant hands. I lean forward and disperse kisses on his neck. He slaps my skin in appreciation for the teeth I use to pull at his collarbones. I suck harshly.
"I love you," he huffs.
I involuntarily arch my back as a response to the way in which he slides into me. My head almost hits against the hard surface of the wall, but Taehyung's arm blocks me.
I do exactly what I want to do. My palm meets his cheek in a swift smack. "I love you."
My palms stings. I can only imagine how his skin must feel. I have been harboring these feelings because I thought they were part of the darkness I so foolishly thought I could control. There is no control here. The way Taehyung is smirking at me, with his mouth agape and his tongue slightly protruding from his lips, tells me I didn't hurt him. His cheek is red.
"You're so hot," I spill.
My lips are hungry for him. I suck and pull at the skin on his chest as roughly as I can. This is different for us. Taehyung is letting me at him without trying to inject himself. Well, he did say he wanted to be selfless.
The intimacy is getting to be too much. He is thrusting into me again and again; quickly now. I can't stop myself from smacking him again. My small palm meets the skin of his delicate cheek. He takes his lip in by his teeth to hide a smirk from me.
This time, he does it back. His palm meets my cheek, less forceful than I am doing to him, but nevertheless my cheek stings. I groan deeply at the unexpected sensation.
Taehyung watches me closely for my response to his hit. It's exhilarating. I wrap my arms around him, bringing our lips together again. I hold his throat tightly in my fingertips.
He's right. If he can be rough without hurting me, then I can do the same to him.
He groans, mumbling against me, "So sexy. . ."
". . . and mine," I finish his sentence.
That's when it ends for me. My numb thighs are probably shaking uncontrollably by how intense everything is. I am surprised when I feel him slip from me the moment I come undone. Did he finish?
My internal question is shortly answered as his commanding hand pushes down on my shoulder for me to get to my knees. I expect him to enter into my mouth, but he doesn't. His hand starts to jerk himself as I kneel in front of him. He is staring at me while he does it.
I want to reach forward and help him, but I can't. I am exhausted. This is much more than we have done before. The position required strength from multiple aspects of my body that have been overworked at dance rehearsals. All I can do now I stare back at him with the same intensity. Taehyung's eyebrows raise and his lip is taken in by his teeth. He is so. . . Breathtaking.
I flinch as he comes undone. The warm substance falls to my face, my hair, drips down to my neck, and also explodes onto my chest. I sit here, frozen, just for a moment as he finishes on me. What. . .?
Taehyung leans forward and kisses me passionately. His lips linger on me before he pulls away.
I fall back onto the bottom of my feet. . . dismayed slightly, before bringing my hand to my cheek.
It's hot. I find myself smiling. Water is now spraying down onto me and into the drain I'm crouched at. I look up at Taehyung with one eye closed, squinting, to stop the water from affecting me. His pleasure is sticky and sliding off me where the water is hitting. He doesn't say anything when he puts his hand out for me to take, and I wobble slightly when I use his strength to stand up.
He kisses me softly on the cheek.
"Hm?" Taehyung nudges me cutely. He pulls me towards him so that we can both share the shower.
With a shy smile I admit, "I'm numb."
My boyfriend hides a cocky grin.
"Romantic, huh?"
We both laugh. Taehyung is quick to start lathering a washcloth with soap. I am expecting him to clean himself, but he reaches forward to wash my chest. My skin is red and irritated. His is too. Now that I've noticed, it's quite obvious where I sucked and nibbled on him. My love bites are everywhere.
I am staring at his face as he glides the soap suds around my chest, washing off what he did to me. He glances up at me. We share a smile.
"You didn't answer me," I say.
He furrows his eyebrows as an indication of his confusion.
I elaborate, "does it feel better for you without a condom?"
Taehyung laughs deeply at my question. "It doesn't matter."
"It does," I challenge. "I'm curious."
My boyfriend has now moved on to delicately washing the remnants from my cheek. The soap smells so good. It's nice to finally wash away the sweat and grime from my nightmare. . . not to mention the pleasure from my boyfriend.
"Did it feel better for you?" he wonders.
"Don't answer my question with a question," I giggle.
Taehyung falls into another smile. My own smile stings from how much I'm enjoying how happy he is. It's obvious now that the sexual release was needed from both of us. It has been a long week of torturous anticipation for Namjoon to make a move. Given that I spent almost all of my time hiding either here at the apartment or in Taehyung's office, we avoided most confrontation. It won't last forever. Our alone time distracts us from all of that.
Taehyung exhales deeply. "It's not like we can just stop using them. . ."
"So you did like it?"
He wipes the last of the soap from my face. It's smart the way he forces me to turn around to wash my back now. I roll my eyes while he can't see me.
"Eunha," Taehyung is holding back his humored tone, "it's just a convenience thing for me, but I rather be safe."
"Hm," I nod. "Yeah. . ."
"What?"
He is so tender against my skin as he washes me. I can feel the soap all over me as his gentle hand works against me. It's warm and refreshing. This simple act feels so intimate and romantic even if we are just in a shower.
"I don't know. It was kind of thrilling," I expel.
"Mhm." I know he agrees with me, but he won't admit it verbally. I decide to let the topic go. It's better for us to continue doing what we have been doing.
We are overcome with silence. I feel like we're both taking in the therapeutic atmosphere. It's calm. . . light. . . easy. Taehyung is so sweet in how he is washing and scrubbing every inch of my body. He guides me in stepping out of my panties. My laughter fills the air when he gets down to my feet. I'm ticklish and almost hit him in the face. His touch travels from my ankles and up the back of my leg to the curve of my body and around to my bellybutton.
I lean in and kiss him when he finishes.
"We should do this every morning," he murmurs.
I grab his washcloth from the ledge before ringing it out. I lather it with soap for him. He steps out of his briefs.
"Rough sēx after a breakdown," I acknowledge.
Taehyung exhales a quick, humored breath. "No, Eunha. Relaxing showers together."
He is towering over me so much that his gaze falls down onto me with each stroke I take across his chest. My bites and kisses are clearly visible, bruising so quickly after the fact. They can all easily be hidden under clothing, so I am not worrying too much. The white soapy suds gather onto his skin before washing away from the stream of water. His body is so perceptive to me. He lingers his touch against my waist whenever he has the chance. It's incredibly charming.
"Thank you," I say just above a breath.
Taehyung doesn't need an explanation for my praise. "You should've said you wanted to be more rough with me. We could've talked about it."
"I know," I sigh.
It's my turn to force him to turn around. His muscular back is riddled with marks from my nails. I should be horrified. It looks disturbing the way the white streaks are outlined in red. I can see every touch. The disturbance quickly turns to the thrill I chase for in all of our adventures. Taehyung peers over his shoulder at me when I take too long to start washing him. I hesitate to press the washcloth to his skin. He doesn't react much.
". . . would you rather me not do it?" I ask.
"What do you mean?"
I grumble at my hesitance to ask. "I don't know. I'm just wondering if you like it as much as I do."
I'm thankful he can't look at me. I press my hands into his back to stop him from doing so. Soap follows in a trail everywhere I touch. His skin is basically glistening at this point.
"Hit me a little harder next time," he replies smugly.
I sigh in relief. "I thought you preferred me to be more. . ."
"Submissive?"
"Yeah," I shy.
"I thought so too. . ." he reveals. "I think I just prefer you."
I swallow hard. My heart has begun beating incredibly deep and fast against my chest. Taehyung can't see me, but my face is melting. I feel so hot. The words he is speaking to me are enough to cause the oxygen in my body to exhume out of me like a vacuum. My silence must concern him, because it is enough to warrant his undivided attention. I can't finish washing his back because he faces me again. I force a timid smile up at my endearing boyfriend.
He continues despite my silence. "And you know why?"
Taehyung catches my chin with his thumb. Why do I love that so much? I have to blink away from his touch to answer him.
"Hm? Why?"
"Because you love me," he says softly before pecking my nose.
My eyes light up at the phrase. I force my aching legs to their tip-toes in order to kiss his lips. A sweet peck. Nothing crazy. I don't pull too far away before I reply to him softly: "My canvas."
The mention of our life together is warming to my soul. I know that with all of these external complications happening outside of our bubble right now, it's hard to keep the morale up. Especially when one of us can hardly sleep through the night. The canvas we create together, no matter what colors the universe wants to throw on it, will become an artistic portrayal of our journey. Our narrative. Our music. Our dance.
My eyes widen when Taehyung urges me to step out of the shower.
"Hey," I gasp. "The floor is getting soaked!"
"Oh, well," he quips playfully.
I shriek in surprise when he picks me up, scooping his arm under my thighs and lifting me. I grab onto his neck to stop myself from falling. Taehyung doesn't care that water is dripping off of us; we move across the bedroom and towards the bed. I can't believe the time already says it is almost 7AM. We can't go back to sleep. Taehyung is usually dressed and eating breakfast by now.
He throws me down onto the mattress. My giggling is paired with his deep chuckles. My boyfriend gives me a knowing look before he reaches into the bedside table for the familiar roll of condoms, and then rips one off.
"Good morning." Taehyung climbs into the bed on top of me. The condom is ripped and rolling down his length before I can catch my breath. So much for an inconvenience.
I smile against his lips when he kisses me. "You'll be late for work."
He enters me, and I'm brought back into my fantasy again.
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❝provoked greetings❞
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Shayton's Coffee Shop is glittered and brimming with a large array of Christmas decorations when I enter the place. The smell of burnt coffee beans, fresh hot cocoa, and minty tea leaves fill the warm air. Outside, where I've just come from, is still recovering from the blanket of snow that fell last night. Piles of snow are pushed to the side of pathways dug out for university students to walk on. Steep hills and narrow walk ways located sparingly around campus are closed.
I wish I didn't have to bear the cold like this; I would much rather be snuggling up to a blanket on Taehyung's couch right now, but I know I have to face the reality of what my life is like here at Loomis. Namjoon is expecting my undivided attention come this weekend for the charity event, and I'm still trying to mentally prepare myself to pretend everything is fine. . . normal. It's not fine. It's not normal.
I'm wearing jeans lined with fuzzy material. . . as well as Taehyung's sweatshirt beneath my winter jacket. The warmth of Shayton's warrants the release of the article of clothing. I shrug it off my shoulder as I wait in line to order. I will stay in here as long as I possibly can before taking a look at what Namjoon left for me in my dorm.
Being on campus these days is more difficult. The future I have at Loomis is basically void. My father will definitely not ask the church to fund my tuition again next semester. I have basically banished myself from his life, but I don't regret it. The consequences of my actions are now that I'm on my own, and I have no idea what I'm going to do. It's hard for me to think about more than a day at a time, never mind weeks in advance.
"Caramel latte, please," I say to the barista. "Small."
My stomach is in knots. So much of my life is amounting to these next few days. The opening of L'ange de Noël is quickly approaching next week, and I'm nervous for my performance. I need to be mentally there when I'm not even mentally here. This is evident as the cashier waits expectantly for me to hand her a form of payment; I blink before reaching into my wallet. I hand her my university meal card.
The cashier glances up from the register after swiping it. "Hey, there aren't any meal points on your card."
"What?" I sheepishly take it back. "What does that mean?"
The cashier is probably a student just like myself. She has long black hair double braided down her chest on both sides. Glittery red bows tie the ends off. Her hair reminds me of the way mine used to be. . . She shrugs at me. "Could you have possibly converted them into cash? A lot of people do that."
Converted them into cash? No way. I stare awestruck down at the card. This must be my father's way of cutting me off. I am about to start rummaging for crumpled currency at the bottom of my bag until I'm interrupted.
"It's on me," a familiar voice startles me slightly. "Add a medium chai latte with sweet cold foam."
My heart almost sinks thinking it's Namjoon; I am more than relieved to see Jimin standing next to me. He gives me a warm smile before handing the cashier his meal card. I swallow hard awkwardly and pack away my wallet into my bag. It's then that I notice that Jimin is most presumably going to class. His bag is filled with books.
"Thank you," I praise.
The two of us walk to a booth in the corner once we receive our drinks. Although we both take a seat, Jimin seems jittery. He is not relaxing into the seat like someone usually would; his leg is shaking, and he is tapping his fingers against the table. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was waiting to leave. Impatiently, too.
"No problem," he replies. "I was getting another one anyway."
He brings his drink up as if for a cheer. I tilt mine towards him with a puzzled expression.
"You were already here?"
"Yeah," he nods. "But now I have class in a few."
He dodges my eyes as he speaks. It's obvious he is talking about our English class. He stopped asking me if I'm going sometimes after midterms. I don't even have motivation anymore. What is the point? I am too tired from dancing to even think about mentally draining my brain with coursework, and now it all seems so trivial.
"Were you here alone?"
His eyes flicker behind me; he hesitates. ". . . No."
I turn to look to follow his eyes. Jungkook is staring at us from across the shop. He is seated at one of those high tables where people usually plug in their laptops and work on essays; he has a new neck tattoo that pokes out of his clothing. The sight of him panics me for a moment; flashes of my nightmare conjure in my mind. I blink them away quickly and avoid his stare. I have to exhale a deep breath before preparing myself to say anything.
The knots in my stomach tighten into guilt. I am fighting myself from looking over at Jungkook again, but Jimin distracts me with his behavior.
He is evidently anxious; he is looking all around the room as if he can't focus on one thing.
"Jimin?" I call for his distant gaze.
"Sorry. . ."
"Are you okay?"
He nods. His leg is positioned into the aisle away from the booth. It seems as if he is ready to stand up at any moment. His body language is beginning to make me feel anxious and rushed; I take a big sip of my drink. The latte only disrupts my knotted stomach even more. I hate being on campus.
"Uh. . ." he trails.
I stare at him waiting for a sentence.
Seconds pass. "Jungkook refuses to tell me anything, and I'm really scared for you, Eunha. You are mon ange [my angel]."
I frown at my friend before reaching across the table for his hands. He is wearing knitted mittens with puffy balls hanging from the sides. I give him a smile, and although it is apprehensive, it eases him slightly. I'm scared too, I want to say, but I don't. Jimin is too fragile for this. I'm not surprised Jungkook is keeping him in the dark. . . it's for his own good.
"Mon fantome [my ghost]," I lighten the mood, "It will work out."
"I saw Bitna today," he blurts.
I'm caught off-guard by his information. "What?"
"Sorry," he apologizes. "I wanted to change the subject."
"Oh," I nod. "Did you actually see her?"
Jimin gives me a vague indication of "yes" with his eyes. I bite the vile growing at the back of my throat. It's possible Namjoon is the one who hurt her in the first place, and now I am making plans to spend time with him. I blow out another breath.
I should probably visit her too. She's at home recovering. It's something that can make me feel a bit better. She is probably lonely. . . and although seeing her is somewhat selfish for me to feed my own ego, it will still help her nonetheless.
"She was asking about how you are," Jimin confirms my thoughts. "She's pretty depressed, but she can't walk around a bit on crutches. I think you should stop by or something."
"I will."
An uncomfortable silence plagues us. Jimin and I look at each other as if reading one another's minds; someone we know did this to her, Jimin warned me. It's obvious now. I didn't believe him then, but I am more the wiser.
My phone buzzes. I'm startled again thinking it will be him, but my fright turns into a smile at the sight of my boyfriend's name.
♡ Taehyung ♡:
you're not in my office.... ):
You:
getting coffeeeeeee ^ . ^
♡ Taehyung ♡:
i will take the blame for tiring you out today.
I bite my inner cheek at his suggestive text.
♡ Taehyung ♡:
I have two scheduled office hours with students. are okay where you are?
Am I okay? Not really. Just my presence on campus gives me a sinister feeling that Joon will show up. I hope Jungkook isn't still telling him my location. I glance up from my phone. I can feel Jungkook's presence behind me. Think of the toilet, Eunha. Flushed away. Gone. A new chapter. A new narrative. This one isn't as messy. Yet.
You:
im going to stay here. i found JK
♡ Taehyung ♡:
good. stay with him.
He is being cautious of Joon's appearance too. I don't want to worry him too much. I know at this point that is basically impossible. I have the urge to lie to him just to ease his troubles, but that's the type of behavior I flushed down the toilet.
You:
tae I can barely look at him
You:
i can't promise you anything 😪
Jimin interjects, and I'm forced to look up from my phone. "What is your plan, Eunha?"
"Huh?" Is he still talking about Bitna?
"We need to help JK," Jimin elaborates. "And I'm worried about you."
"Yes, I know," I say confidently. "I'm working on it. Don't worry."
I am trying to keep a confident tone with every word that comes out of my mouth, but it's almost impossible to suppress how nervous I am with this topic. What if I can't help? What if I can't stop Joon from destroying Taehyung? Destroying Jungkook? Jimin? Myself? Namjoon could take everything from Taehyung. His whole life. Jimin has no idea about any of this, yet he is more stressed than I am. My fingers are shaking now. I can barely catch my breath with how much I'm overthinking. Jimin's eyes reflect the same way he looked at me the night he saw my bruised knees. Frightened.
"I don't like this," Jimin says wearily.
I lie. "It's okay."
My phone buzzes again.
♡ Taehyung ♡:
what do those websites say....?
♡ Taehyung ♡:
forgiveness. make amends, baby.
You:
😬😓
"Eunha," Jimin hurriedly whispers my name. "I have to go. I'm late for class." I'm forced to look up.
His seat is already empty.
Wow. Jimin makes me feel sane. . . I widen my eyes to myself at this new empty feeling I have. I am so used to having the company of Taehyung. Even when I would wait around in his office, I was comforted with the idea that he would return to me. It was safe. I'm not safe here. I can feel Jungkook's stare across the coffee shop.
I don't look back at him. I sit for a moment to gain strength. My fingers are dancing along the brim of my coffee, and with my eyes closed, I'm going over my Le Destin de L'ange routine in my head. Did I mention opening night is next week? Surely I have. It's background noise to everything else going on, though.
My eyes open abruptly at the sound of Jungkook falling into the seat across from me. He meets my widened, petrified eyes, with similarly concerned ones. I bite my inner cheek. I wasn't ready to make amends yet.
"Hey," he greets me.
Jungkook is wearing a dark blue winter jacket. His hair is hidden by a black beanie, and his long waves fall into place when he snatches it off of his head. He shakes his head back in order to style his hair into place. The new neck tattoo looks like a serpent, or maybe it is a dragon. It's hard to tell since half of it is covered. I almost didn't notice his camera in his hand until the flash goes off in my face.
He looks at the camera after the picture has been taken. Don't complain. . .
"I'm almost done with my portfolio, you know? I think Professor is going to be impressed."
I have nothing to say. He is acting too normal. I feel like I am sitting in Linnie's diner during syllabus week with him all over again. That was months ago. This is now.
My silence evidently annoys him. Jungkook gapes slightly, "you didn't break up, did you? Oh my fūck. . . this is all my fault. . ."
Jungkook is about to melt into the seat and disappear into his hands;
"Stop," I put my hand up. "We're still together."
Jungkook stares blankly at me, frozen. I furrow my eyebrows at him. When I look into his eyes, I see him crying on the floor in a small pool of his blood. The image of him wanting to die beneath my weight. . . my hands. . . the Dark Room.
I swallow hard as if that will help me rid myself of the mental image. It doesn't.
"You shouldn't be here with me," I remind him. "Namjoon could show up."
Jungkook rolls his eyes at my carefulness. "Relax. He's taking some really important Chemistry final. It starts, like, now."
Chemistry? What happened to Anatomy?
I can't do this to myself. That doesn't matter now. I'm more concerned with Jungkook's ability to pretend he almost didn't die just a few days ago. . . and because of me. He is sitting across from me, just like Namjoon wants to do— pretending everything is fine, that everything is normal. Everything is not fine. Everything is not normal.
I start to get upset looking at him. My eyes grow teary with a mix of anger at both myself and him.
"I can't sleep thinking about what I did to you," I reveal.
Jungkook is vaping when I say this. Smoke escapes his nose and mouth as he stares at me while the words tremble from my lips. I sit back in my seat and cross my arms across my chest. I can't believe this. I am having nightmares about what happened, and it seems to me that he doesn't care at all.
"I said I deserved it," he dismisses me. "Let it go."
"I can't just let it go. I almost hurt you."
He shrugs. "I lied so much to you, yet you forgave me, right? That must've hurt."
I don't reject his statement. I do forgive him.
"And besides, I'm used to it," he adds with a shrug.
My lips quiver at my friend. Emotions get the best of me. I quickly wipe away the small tears as they drop from my eyes. I hope my mascara didn't follow them. I stall from having to talk about anything with him by using my phone's reflection to check on my makeup. I can hear him sucking into his vape while I do it. I glance at the transparent cloud that dissipates into the air shortly after leaving his body.
"That doesn't mean you deserved it," I take a line from Taehyung's book. The advice is similar.
"Eunha, I feel free. I have no burdens. You released me. I'm like a night hawk."
Jungkook's arms raise and he assumes a bird-like position with expanded arms for wings. His nose scrunches happily.
"What?" I shake my head with confusion at his figurative language.
He drops his arms and ponders for a moment. He leans over the table as if pitching me an idea. "I'm working on this new thing, Eunha. It's called being invisible. That's the safest way to be. Where no one cares."
My eyebrows furrow, worrisome at his words. "Invisible? Like, gone?"
"No," he eases my conclusions. "Like, out of sight. Un-blackmail-able."
He mentions the topic with humor. I bite my grimace. There are mixed emotions from what I'm listening to. I'm staring into Jungkook's glossed over eyes, trying to decipher some hidden meaning behind all of his rambling, but he actually seems happy. A variation of it. There aren't any bags under his eyes, and he is freshly shaven.
"How would I find you?"
Jungkook chuckles at my response. "You'd know where I am, presumably. I would tell you."
My heart fills. He sounds genuine. Jimin is right. Jungkook and I are best friends. I have to forgive myself for what I did. I have to forgive Jungkook for what he did. The first step is making amends, but Jungkook is long past that. I'm not sure if this is at all healthy, but it sure is easier. I'm willing to let go of this guilt if it means I can be a better friend to him now. We can be better friends to each other.
I wonder with a small smile. "Where is this optimism coming from?"
It's confusing to me how he can feel so free when nothing has changed much since the last we saw one another. Jungkook is still being blackmailed, Joon is still searching for Vante's identity, and headmaster is still aware of a major university drug operation.
Jungkook shrugs. "I don't know, I'm manifesting a good outcome."
"I'm nervous."
"For Saturday, or just in general?"
I nod with acknowledgement for the former as Jungkook relaxes into the seat. I know deep down I am willing to do anything to protect not only my relationship with Taehyung, but Taehyung himself, but that doesn't mean I can't be fearful of the process. Joon is a wildcard in my narrative. I have no idea what goes on in his mind. I thought I could control what he does, says, thinks, but it's just not possible. But then again, he doesn't really know what goes on in my head either.
"Love makes a man do crazy things, am I right?"
Jungkook is only joking, but it's disgusting to think that Joon loves me. Taehyung's love has become my default. I simply compare everything to it. Nothing can amount. . . not even close.
"That's what scares me."
I bring my latte to my lips. It's already tepid. I swallow the last of it anyway. I'm so tired. Jungkook blows more smoke into his jacket when an employee walks by. I roll my eyes with a small grin at his nonsense.
"He'll behave. I mean, he wants money right? You'll be dancing for a while together."
I'm skeptical. Joon can easily hurt me like he most probably did to Bitna. It won't matter if we are on campus. He's an animal. To push someone down a flight of stairs. . . it's evil. The thoughts makes me shutter. I can still remember how she looked in the hospital room. . .
"More money for him and headmaster," I grumble passive aggressively.
Jungkook's eyebrows furrow with deep thought with what I've said. "Yeah. . ."
"I know that face," I point out. "What are you thinking?"
"I don't know. . ." Jungkook trails unconfidently. "Namjoon is very calculated with everything he does. This all seems. . ."
He doesn't finish his thought. By the thoughtful look on his face I can tell he is still theorizing.
"He texted me. . ." I say as I grab my phone. I open my text conversation with Joon. "He says there's a surprise in my dorm. What does that mean?"
Jungkook looks at my phone. He scrolls through the many messages that have gone unreplied by me. I don't think Namjoon cares at all. He likes to talk to himself in there. Sometimes I swear he refers to other texts in which I didn't answer, yet he was having a conversation by himself. Jungkook's eyes are hazy when he looks at me.
I'm not surprised he's high, it's just hard to get used to again. I welcome it.
"Your dress is in there," he tells me. I should've known he would find a way to make me still wear it. That beautiful dress brings terrible memories.
Jungkook blows out a hit. Smoke hits my face. "Those texts are. . ."
I nod. "Pathetic."
"Well, yeah," Jungkook laughs at the obvious. "He's doing it to be fūcking creepy on purpose."
"It's working."
I take my phone back. Jungkook blows out more smoke. "I was tempted to snoop into Professor's texts. . ."
The mention of Taehyung urges my lips into a smile involuntarily. I can't even stop myself. I am blushing like an idiot before I know it, and I know the teasing smirk on Jungkook's face is a response to it. It's been weeks if not months since I have been able to talk about Taehyung to someone. Sitting here with Jungkook is calming me from my anxieties, even if just for a short while. It feels normal.
"I didn't peek," he assures me.
"It's okay," I laugh. "There aren't that many recent ones. We are together most of the time these days."
Jungkook raises his eyebrows. I know he is biting his tongue.
"I know you want to ask. . ." I trail.
Jungkook giddily leans forward to the table. His toothy smile grows in preparation for what he wants to say. I wait patiently. He opens his mouth to talk, but closes it with a train of thought. I huff playfully. He bites down on his lip as he stares at me, his eyebrows raising slowly as if wanting me to say something without him asking anything. We both lean in with anticipation. Jungkook is nodding my head for me to speak.
I give in. "Fine. . . Yes."
"That's all you have to say?" he gawks.
"Leave me alone," I whine. "It's private. I don't ask about you and Jimin."
I'm not at all convincing with my tone of voice. Truth be told, I do want to talk about it with him. I've been going through all of these milestones without any support. Taehyung is very supportive, but it's just not the same. Although this is true, I still want to keep my privacy. I don't want to burst our bubble.
"Okay, then. You want to know about Jimin? I blow his back out every chance I get. Your turn."
My mouth falls agape. "Jungkook!"
"Jungkook," he mimics me. "I'm invested as Professor's fan, not as your friend."
"Oh?" I consider. "I wanted to tell my friend, though."
"Eunha," he groans. "Throw me a bone."
I chuckle at him before glancing around the coffee shop to ensure there is no one listening. It is actually pretty empty. Most students are in class right now. Jungkook and I are accompanied by an older couple sitting by the window across the shop. Two other students just walked out.
How do I even describe my sēx life to him? I don't want to say too much.
"We're. . . very, um, intense."
Jungkook nods; he isn't satisfied. "Eunha, I'm still trying to figure out what your 'yes' meant. Have you fūcked him yet? Or just licked a dīck?"
Ugh, that was so long ago. I cringe as he quotes my previous ignorant phrase before correcting myself. "Yeah, we. . . fūck regularly."
Jungkook looks proud of me. I can see the applause going on in his mind. He holds in his shock. "How is it?"
I shake my head with an uncomfortable laugh. "I don't want to say too much! It's private."
My friend rolls his eyes at me. I'm thankful my phone goes off on the table.
"It's him," I inform Jungkook.
♡ Taehyung ♡:
baby
meet me at my car in 5? last appointment didn't show 😁
An emoji? He's in a good mood.
♡ Taehyung ♡:
I want to go home
You:
ok see you soon :D
When I place my phone down, it's then I realize my cheeks are stinging from smiling again. I really do need to stop.
"I have to go," I say to Jungkook.
"Duty calls."
I ignore his teasing. "I had fun. It was like old times."
"Yeah," he nods. "I missed it."
"I would offer to buy you a coffee, but my dad cut me off, and I have no money."
The saddening words cause Jungkook to start laughing at me. I stare at him with confusion as to how my misfortune could possibly garner laughter. Jungkook finds a way, though, he always finds a way. He then snaps a photograph of me. The shutter is obnoxious even if the flash didn't go off this time.
I groan.
"It's serious," I pout. "I think I have to drop out after this semester ends."
"Welcome to my world."
I sympathize with him. Jungkook is giving up everything just to end this madness.
With heavy shoulder I check for the time. . . Joon is still taking his exam. I contemplate for a moment. I will pick up that dress from my dorm before meeting with Taehyung.
I get up from my seat. Jungkook stays. Departing with him makes me feel uneasy. I know the next time we speak will be at the dance marathon, and I'm growing extremely anxious thinking about what is going to happen.
Jungkook gives me a small, firm wave goodbye. His facial expression towards me is of the optimism he outwardly expresses, but also of the deeper inner fears that I know we are both concealing.
I am thinking of the end as I exit the coffee shop. What is my ending? When is there ever truly an end? The thoughts circle me. . . consume me. . . for the next two nights; that is, until I see the end. . . as it happens right in front of my face.
____________________________
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15k! thank you for reading ♡