ミ★
thirty
❝the final thoughts❞
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A wintery ray of sunlight peeks in from the window; it drifts back and forth with the whispering blinds, roaming each crevice of my face as gusts of cold wind hit against the skyline. The sunlight eventually settles on my eyes, and I close them tightly, scrunching my nose before rolling over in bed. My arm falls into empty pillows and sheets. Taehyung is not in his usual position: one leg intertwined with mine, and a hand on my chest to stop me from thrashing in my sleep. I frown as my fingertips fall against the sheets, feeling of distant warmth from his body. He must've just gotten up not too long ago.
The December air feels different today. This Saturday morning, regardless of the comforting winter lights illuminating the city streets, the silent blanket of snow wrapping buildings like presents, and the faint smell of evergreen wherever you walk, there is an inescapable looming darkness dragging each one of my senses into a bottomless vat. It settles into me as I look at the luxurious red dress hanging up across from the bed.
The beautiful gown cascades down to the floor, cloth seamlessly falling into waves of fabric like a calm ocean. It is so beautiful it hurts to think about where it has come from. I feel sick.
I spring up from the bed and rush into the bathroom. I push the door firmly with my palms, so quickly, that it flings into the wall behind it. I drop to my knees and within seconds I am expelling myself into the toilet. I can feel Namjoon's hands as they reach into me and take everything out of my insides. His greedy hands steal my sane thoughts and my fragile emotions. I can see them as I flush them away, shielding my view as to not upset myself any more.
Today is the real nightmare. My body is shaking with uncomfortable shivers as I attempt to get up from the floor. Each muscle is sore, and I can see them contracting to stop the shivering in my glossy reflection in the mirror. I look so tired. I am so tired. Blissful love and romance don't exist in nightmares. Taehyung is restricted from following me to places like this.
My Christmas; my star; my lustrous plight. As I wash away my sins with fresh spearmint toothpaste and water, I am thinking of my boyfriend. I can't let anything happen to him. There is an uncontrollable urge to protect him from being exposed again. . . rehashing his mistakes. Joon will take advantage of him the moment he has the chance.
White foam builds up against my gums as I brush vigorously. My eyes follow my reflection slowly, and then all at once. I look different. Training for L'ange de Noël has proven to have significantly altered my body composition. Muscles that had been dormant during my off-time have now joined me again. Even my jawline is not the same. I look. . . like Celeste.
The reflection bothers me so much that I pull open the mirror to get rid of it. Taehyung's medicine cabinet is now my only view. It's better this way. Random bottles of pain reliever and small boxes of bandaids soothe me more than seeing that version of myself.
It's then that my eyes widen. Hidden behind pill bottles and boxes of bandages is a long, thin, rectangular box from a jewelry store. A necklace? A bracelet? I bring my hand to my mouth in shock. My fingertips are cold against my own skin. I bite my lip with furrowed brows to condense my butterflies. Why is he hiding this behind laxatives and foot cream?
It has occurred to me by now that I haven't even heard Taehyung rustling around in the kitchen. I swallow my urge to open the jewelry box; I close the mirror and my feet bring me out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and out to the main floor. Taehyung is sitting on a kitchen stool with his head in his hands, leaning against the counter.
He doesn't react when my footsteps grow closer to him.
I place my hand on his shoulder. He is wearing a grey sweatshirt and dark blue pajama pants. His bed-head hair is pushed back from his face almost like he has been pulling at his roots. "Taehyung?"
My touch soothes over the soft material of his sweatshirt before I settle my arms over his shoulders and around his body. My chest rests against his back. Taehyung's hands accept my embrace, and he captures my wrists in his hold. I lay my cheek against his shoulder. Although he is sitting, the height of the kitchen stool is not doing me any favors. We are the same height although I am trying to embrace him.
Taehyung releases a shaky breath. He has been sitting out here in silence. The television isn't on, nor his music player. . . his phone isn't even on the counter. I'm growing increasingly more worried with his silence.
"Good morning, baby," he pecks the back of my palm.
"Good morning," I mutter. "Talk to me."
"Eunha. . ." he's trails in a collection of his thoughts. "This isn't right."
His voice is so husky in his freshly awoken state. Paired with how softly he is speaking, almost just above a whisper, I have twists and turns settling into my stomach at the sound of him. This time, though, the twists and turns are giddily overcoming me.
"Hm?" I drowsily encourage him to continue.
My boyfriend's fingertips are digging into my wrists as though he is afraid to let go. His chest is rising and falling deeply.
"You're doing this for me, and I don't want you to," he says. "Please, don't do it."
I lift my head from his shoulder. My concern for his words translate into my physical movements, and I pull my hands away from him body to take a seat beside him. I am relieved when Taehyung looks at me, opening himself to talk as his body shifts towards me in the chair. I place my now trembling hand on his thigh.
"I love you," I mumble sweetly. "I want to."
"Stop," he shakes his head at me. "This upsets me."
The words escape him angrily, but he is still calm. Taehyung's eyes are secured by knitted brows falling into a harsh line of apprehension towards me. I am a bit taken back by his passionate thoughts coming at me verbally. . . I thought that after this week of comforting each other and assuring one another's safety, that everything was okay. Now, on the day of, Taehyung is reverting to his initial reaction.
"T-Taehyung. . . I. . . stop. Where is this coming fr—"
He interjects, "I can't stop thinking about the hurt—"
"You aren't causing any hurt, Taehyung," I say again. My other hand falls atop his forearm. I'm relieved he doesn't move away from my touch. "I decided to do this. We both agreed."
"Well, I don't want you to."
"Joon is the one causing hurt, not you. I am hurt thinking about him ruining you."
Taehyung takes in his bottom lip as if trying to calm himself down. From his words and body language, it is evident that he has been thinking about this conversation for some time. I start to wonder when this started. . . maybe this anger is another stage of the crying on my chest?
"And you, Eunha? You think he will just leave you alone?" he counters me. There is a brief pause before he continues, "I think it's time that we come to terms with reality. . . and let the inevitable happen."
"Let the inevitable happen?"
It's that word. Inevitable. It saddens me greatly that Taehyung continuously refers to the consequences of his mistakes as products of the universe. Joon is not a product of any fate or inevitability; he is a spawn of hatred, and is going out of his way for this.
I am nervously speaking now. "It's my fault this is all happening. I led him on for months just because I was too shy to confront him. Taehyung, this is a product of that."
He remains silent after I speak. The only thing keeping me mentally in tact right now is the fact that he hasn't pulled away from me. My hands lay against him in comforting touches to remind him why we are doing this in the first place. To be together. The look on Taehyung's face right now, however, tells me that he is more preoccupied with my safety than our relationship. He is willing to ruin everything. . .
I remind him. "It's either this, or your whole life's work has been for nothing. . . our relationship has been for nothing."
It's almost impossible not to get emotional as the conversation progresses. I am holding on, though, and the tears don't begin. I shield them, and tuck them away by thinking of how much hope I have for our future. My mental canvas is still missing the final brush strokes to be considered complete. I want to complete this chapter with him. I want this all to end.
My boyfriend won't look at me now. He seems frustrated, but isn't vocalizing his thoughts. I can tell he is reluctant to speak, which is very unlike him.
"Taehyung," I sniffle. "It's not fair if you don't talk to me."
"I don't know, Eunha. . ."
It's then that he pulls his arm away from me, but he hasn't gotten up from his seat yet. I'm hopeful. I still feel close enough to him that we can talk through this. My boyfriend takes a deep breath with another shake of his head.
He sighs. "I was talking with Jungkook. . ."
"W-What?"
Without me?
"He thinks this is much more involved—"
"So this is where your sudden change of heart is coming from?" I accuse him. "Talking to him about me behind my back?"
I'm the one who pulls away this time. The disbelief that overcomes me actually makes me feel uncomfortable. Taehyung and Jungkook being close acquaintances didn't really occurred to me. It must be a Jungkook thing. He can befriend anyone. I had never put much thought into the relationship that would transpire from everything that has been going on with Joon.
But now, as I sit here and listen to Taehyung trying to convince me out of this, it is becoming increasingly more obvious that I am being turned on yet again. . . It makes me question if I can even trust my own thoughts.
"No, Eunha, you know it's not like that. We both care about you."
My lips are quivering as I attempt to stop my tears from gathering in my eyes. It's too late. They swell up and blur my eyesight. I hide my face from Taehyung to quickly rid myself of them. I breathe heavily. Don't cry.
"It is like that," I whimper. "I am so alienated. Again. . . and again. . . I have no assurance that I'm not crazy."
It's always me against everyone. Every thought I have, it's like no one is ever on my side. I am trying to do the right thing for once. It's disheartening.
"Baby, stop," Taehyung tells me assertively.
"You think I am."
I steal a glance at him when I speak. My boyfriend is leaning forward towards me, hovering, as if he can't touch me in fear that I will vanish in his grasp. I lick my lips, capturing the salty tears that I failed to wipe away. Taehyung's eyes soften at me.
"I think you—we— are in over our heads," he mutters just above a breath. "Let's keep talking through this."
Why is he behaving like this? Taehyung knows that Joon will only come at me harder and expose our relationship if I don't attend. Joon basically told me that was his plan when we were in the prayer room. I stare at my boyfriend quizzically for answers that I can find in his expression. I'm at a loss. I can't even trust if what I'm seeing is real anymore.
I get ahold of myself enough to straighten my posture and rid myself of cries that want to escape me.
"We will never agree."
Taehyung nods although I know he wants to refute my words. We are edging that fine line of control again. . .
"No?" He wonders.
"Don't be cute," I warn him seriously. "I'm really put off by this."
I'm referring to many different layers of this conversation. Nothing I do will be enough. Taehyung just doesn't understand. I don't think he ever will understand. I care much more about him than being in a relationship with him, it seems, because I don't think anything could stop me at this point. I told myself a long time ago I would protect him, so I am. His life shouldn't be ruined because of me.
I sink into my pajamas. Taehyung reaches over, finally touching me, to tuck stray pieces of hair behind my ear. I fight the urge to shrug him away. This just isn't working.
"Please," he begs.
It isn't a humored beg. He is serious. I look at him with an ounce of disbelief. His voice sounds broken. Part of me wants to merely convince him that I will do what he wants just for him to feel better. . . but that would be wrong. Manipulative. I shake my head at him.
I mumble, "don't do this."
"Eunha," Taehyung forces me to look at his eyes with forceful tone. "I went digging into the event."
I am staring into his eyes just as he wanted. It is the same feeling as always— comfort. Taehyung's eyes follow mine around each other's facial features and it's like nothing else matters. The cold counter top against my skin, my aching feet from dancing, even the ticking clock on the kitchen wall, seem insignificantly far away while we look at one another. I wish it could always be this.
"Is this what you did with Jungkook?"
"Jungkook came to me with perplexing allegations."
"So, that's a yes?" I ask passive aggressively.
Taehyung's face falls at my hostile tone. I don't really care. I'm upset because we have been working all week to prepare for today, and yet it is all going down in flames due to some side conversation I wasn't part of.
"Yes," Taehyung forfeits. "He thinks Namjoon orchestrated all of this from the very beginning of the semester."
I bite back a chuckle. My boyfriend and my best friend are now conjuring tall-tales together when they aren't with me.
"Do you know how insane that sounds?" I gape at him. "You think Joon targeted me months in advance for a random charity event?"
The sarcasm is not lost in how heavily I am leaning into it to express my words. Taehyung's frustration returns, but he is too classy to convey a nasty tone with me in his reply. Instead, he redirects his efforts to his own findings.
"The marathon is a scam, Eunha," Taehyung tells me plainly. "It's supposed to be funding the Art Department, but we aren't given even 10% of that."
"Okay," I understand. "Even you said yourself. . . Headmaster is funding his illegal schemes."
Taehyung nods along with me. "Namjoon is part of the scheme, Eunha."
He is staring at me with intense eyes, watching carefully for my expression. I'm ashamed of myself for the distaste that coats my lips. He will say anything to change my mind, is my first thought. It isn't my best thought.
I groan to myself. . . Slow down, Eunha. Listen to him. Don't push him away. He cares. . . it isn't control. I close my eyes and try to calm myself down. Behind my closed lids I can see myself going down that path again. We can't continue talking in circles about the same thing. What if it's true? Could Namjoon have known all of this about me before meeting me?
"This-This is fear-mongering," I say defensively. "Did you forget that Jungkook is in desperate need too?"
I am accusing him of using a worst case scenario against me to convince me to change my mind. It is easier to deny that it could be true due to how absolutely uncomfortable this makes me. I was targeted? For months? It can't matter to me; too much is on the line. I find it hard to believe that Jungkook is backing out of our plan given that there is so much on the line for him also.
Before Taehyung can answer me, I am prying for information. "What did Jungkook say? Hm? Did he suggest I stay home, too?"
Taehyung hesitates to reply, but he reluctantly tells me the truth. "No."
"What did he say?"
"He is confident that after Namjoon makes the money. . . that this will stop."
This relieves me. I'm not completely alone. I stop the comfort of a smile from spreading to my face at the news that's maybe I am not completely isolated after all. Jungkook wants this to end as much as I do.
My boyfriend doesn't look pleased with the subtle change in my reaction,
"Jungkook cares about you, Eunha, but he isn't in love with you."
His low, husky voice takes me by surprise. My boyfriend is too consumed in what will happened to me. He needs to think of himself. Taehyung taught me that this is what love is— caring about someone more than they care about themselves. An overwhelming feeling fills my chest at this conclusion. This must be what love is. Looking at my boyfriend right now, however, it doesn't feel this way. Taehyung is frustrated with me. . . probably angry as well.
I bite back. "He cares about himself for once. You should do the same."
"You making Namjoon money won't stop him from hurting you again and again."
"It will stop him from hurting you."
We are actively in a fight, but it's a healthy one. We are listening to each other. . . reflecting. . . understanding. That doesn't mean I have to agree with him. Right?
I voice my thoughts. "It's too late, Taehyung. If I back out now it will be worse."
My features soften as the words leave my lips. I reach forward and place my hand on his chest. I can feel the low rhythm of his heart beneath my fingertips. It doesn't last long. . . Taehyung stands from the stool the moment I touch him as if not wanting to be persuaded by me. I bring my hand back to my lap as he walks into the kitchen. His back is to me when he grabs a pan to cook with.
I lean forward with my elbows against the counter. "What's your plan?"
My tone rises to match his slightly angered one. Taehyung ignores me, opening the refrigerator for some eggs and creamer for his tea. I wait for his response, but he flicks on the stovetop instead. I start listing:
"Get yourself fired. . . discredit Vante. . . lose your money. . . your life. . . your reputation. . . "
I trail off for him to fill in the blanks of other things that will be gone if Joon decides to target him. It's not worth it to me. I can handle Joon. . . I have been doing it all semester. Although it hasn't been the smoothest ride, I made it to this point.
Taehyung's silence forces me to leave him in the kitchen. He wants to fight back with silence so that I reflect and second guess myself; it is one of his most obvious strategies. He isn't as slick as he used to be. . .
I fall back into bed and reach for my phone before I compose a text to Jungkook.
You:
secret meetings with my boyfriend?
Jungkook surprisingly starts typing back right away.
Jungkook:
? secret
lol
You:
well I didn't know about it :/
Jungkook:
obviously he told u
You:
you didn't tell me
Jungkook:
sorry
it was a sudden epiphany
You:
but you still think I should go?
Jungkook:
yea
You:
what if it doesn't work?
He doesn't reply. I purse my lips. Will Jungkook hurt Joon to end this? My fingers hover over the keyboard, and I bite my lip at my dark thought. I expect him to have the same one.
You:
don't be stupid.
Jungkook:
your thought
not mine
I grumble. He definitely thought about it.
You:
now taehyung is fighting with me about this
Jungkook:
he's crazy
he wants to give up vante for a dance
You:
he's worried 😅
And feels guilty, I mentally add.
Jungkook:
throwing it all away smh
I frown at my phone before becoming overcome with sadness. I understand how hard this is for Taehyung. . . he is constantly reliving his mistakes even now. He needs to trust me.
Jungkook:
he is whipped so hard
idk how you did it
You:
stop 😒
Jungkook:
fr tho
are you going to listen to him?
You:
no
Jungkook:
ok
Jungkook:
I'm prepping my camera
see u later
I don't reply to the text; instead, I roll over onto my back and blow out a stressed breath. The room feels cold, but I can't find myself to snuggle under the covers. I stare blankly up at the ceiling with empty thoughts. Sounds of Taehyung moving around the kitchen is the only sound in the apartment. Usually when I wake up and hear him cooking, it's incredibly domestic and cute, but right now it sounds like a wall being built between us.
What do they call this. . . tough love?
I prop myself up by my elbows on the bed. I sink into the mattress, staring at the long red gown hanging across from me. . . wondering. . . pondering. . . am I making a mistake? Taehyung's deep voice replays in my head, "don't do it."
He will understand my intentions when the night is over. I'm sure of it. Everything will fall into place. . .
◽︎◼︎◽︎◼︎◽︎◼︎◽︎◼︎◽︎
About an hour before the dance marathon, Taehyung knocks softly on his bedroom door. We haven't talked since this morning; I listened to distant voices from the television for hours while staring at the ceiling thinking about every possible situation that can happen. Namjoon could try to physically hurt me. . . mentally hurt me. . . it's better that I go over possible conversation topics in my head beforehand. The only problem is that I don't know what he will say.
"Come in," I say dully from my laying position.
The door creeps open slightly. From my laying position, Taehyung appears upside down as he walks into the room. I shouldn't find his politeness as heartwarming as I do. . . he knocked to enter his own bedroom.
My boyfriend stops at the foot of the bed. I am staring up at him, and he is staring down at me. It takes me a moment to analyze his features while they are upside down. His eyebrows, that I first thought were knitted, are actually perked in slight shock at me. His plump lips are taken in by his teeth.
"I assumed you would be dressed already," he comments lowly.
I'm relieved he says something to me. If this were a typical event, then yes, I probably would've started preparing over an hour ago. This isn't just any ordinary event, though. . .
"I'm just going to show up with the dress on. I'm not doing my hair, or my makeup, or anything. . ."
Joon doesn't deserve that from me. He is getting the bare minimum. In fact, I don't even care if the dress covers my shoes or not. I am going to wear my sneakers.
Taehyung glances at the gown with a tense jaw.
"He won't care with you in that," he murmurs.
The air shifts into a now uncomfortable silence, mirroring the way Taehyung is looking at me, the dress, the situation. I can't do anything about it. Even the way he tries to dodge the dress while opening the closet shows his discomfort. He pulls out one of his suits. It's the classic black one with a plain black tie.
I sit up from the bed. "Please don't be mad."
"I don't think mad is the correct term," he remarks deeply.
He is talking to me, but isn't looking at me. He lays his suit down on the bed and checks for any stains or wrinkles. I'm gnawing on my inner cheek as I stare at him. He must feel me in his peripheral vision, but he is fighting against glancing at me.
I sigh heavily. Taehyung pulls his sweatshirt over his head. I'm expecting him to disappear into the bathroom for a shower without another word, but he comments, "we'll leave in thirty minutes."
The monotone in his voice indicates how reluctant he is to say this. I have no opportunity to respond to him because he closes the bathroom door swiftly once he enters.
There's silence before the showerhead starts spouting water. I bring my knees to my chest and allow my emotions to come out. I have to do it now before he returns, and before we get to campus.
I cry. I allow my chest to heave, my tears to stream, and my ugly wailing noises to escape me. Given the sound of Taehyung's shower, I'm hopeful that he can't hear me. I release my tensions. I'm crying about many things as I let myself go: Taehyung, Jungkook, Joon, my father, Hana, myself. . .
It lasts for about a minute before there is nothing else to give. This is it. I have reached rock bottom. No money, unknown future, and an angry boyfriend who will be mad at me for longer than I'm used to. We have never gone this long like this. It's only been a few hours, and that's telling of our usual relationship dynamic. We typically would have moved on from apologizing by now.
I shake my hands and jump up and down once I climb out of bed. I'm getting the jitters out.
I close my eyes and reach my arms up in a lazy attempt to meditate quickly. I open my arms and channel my inner Jungkook. A night hawk, he said. Why a night hawk? I release a small chuckle as I expand my arms out. Don't be nervous, Eunha. Be free.
I'm doing this for them. Jungkook wants out. Taehyung needs to be protected. I'm mumbling as I repeat this to myself as a reminder.
Unlike last time, when I strip my clothes to change into the dress, I'm keeping my identity. I won't surrender to him this time. I step into the gown a bit apprehensively, but I maintain mental stability. This is what Namjoon wants. He purposely gave me the gown in order to stir up emotions from that day in the parking lot. He wants to win.
I jump, startled, when Taehyung opens the bathroom door. His body is glistening with wetness as he nonchalantly enters the bedroom. A small red towel hangs from his hips, covering his lower extremities. My lovebites litter his chest from our shower session.
Taehyung is tossing his hair around with a smaller towel when we make eye-contact. Since my dress isn't zippered yet, I hold it firmly against my chest to stop it from falling. We stand frozen, staring at one another, from opposite sides of the bed.
"Um. . ." I trail hesitantly. "I, um, need help with the zipper."
Taehyung and I continue to stare at each other after the request leaves my lips. He doesn't seem inclined to help me. He is merely looking at me. Slowly his eyes trail my body. . . I watch as he takes in my appearance. His jaw is tense.
I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding when he gives a tight nod. Taehyung approaches me slowly, his eyes locked on the dress the whole time.
I turn around. His soft breath hits the back of my neck when he finally nears me. I close my eyes to stop myself from looking at his upset facial expression in the mirror. With this dress on, I remember the feeling of Namjoon against me in the dressing room. . . his fingertips at my neck, touching my skin gently but digging into me like knives. He followed my neckline down to my collarbones before trailing down my shoulder and forearm. He was so close to me. . . I lose my breath at the thought.
Involuntarily, I flinch when Taehyung's fingertips meet my back. I shamefully bring my hand to my face and catch my expression by my forehead. Taehyung clearly noticed me do that.
His touch is frozen against me.
"It's okay," I croak weakly. "Sorry."
The zipper is pulled upward, and the dress tightens against my body. It has clearly been tailored since I first tried it on. It fits like a glove.
Taehyung's touch doesn't pull away. I can feel his soft tug at the metal end of the zipper, like he is making sure it is secured.
I nervously start to ramble. "When-When I first tried this on. . . all I could think about was you seeing me in it."
He doesn't say anything. I bite my quivering lip before looking into our reflection. I don't even look at myself. Taehyung's towering body makes it easy to see him. He isn't hiding behind me. . . and his eyes are already looking at mine in the mirror. I swallow hard.
"Well. . . now you've seen me."
I straighten my posture when his expansive hand rests on the nape of my neck. We maintain eye-contact. I wait, with an ever-so-faint smile on my face, for him to grab me.
He doesn't, but I know that he is watching my expression carefully.
"You want me to hit you," he grunts sensually with an accusation.
Taehyung applies pressure to my neck. His comment settles within me, and I can't stop the heat from rising between my thighs. This is what I want. . .
"You're smirking."
I look to the floor timidly after his observation. His tone tells me that he is not dirty talking with me right now. What is wrong with me?
"I''m not finding this fūcking pleasurable, Eunha. He abused you in this dress and now you're wearing it."
"I know," I mumble, shamefully.
Taehyung pulls me by my hair. His damp body meets mine. "You bought this for me?"
I nod because I'm breathless. Strands of hair are pulled and yanked even by the small movement.
"I hate it," he says plainly.
It's apparent that the both of us think of Joon as we stare at it. I think that's what hurts him the most about all of this. I am so out of his grasp right now. He must feel defeated, and I don't know how to assure him. I've tried everything.
". . . you don't have to be so cold."
He ignores me with his own agenda for conversation topic. "He's going to get a taste of victory and continue. . ."
I wince.
"Stop," I plea to his reflection.
"Don't do this," he softens his tone.
I pull myself away from him as my answer. My hair untangles from his fingers, and I make my way to the other side of the bed to distance us. It's impossible to keep my judgement clear with his hands on me. I reach into my pile of belongings and search for my sneakers. My dress is long enough to cover them, it seems, so I won't be able to annoy Joon with it.
"We're going to be late," I remind him as I shove my foot into the shoes.
"Have you ever thought about the Angel's death, Eunha?"
He is surely reverting back to my old coping mechanisms in an attempt to talk to me right now.
I widen my eyes. "Taehyung, do not do this right now."
"She stepped too far into darkness, sacrificed herself for power. . . a tragic ending."
I wince again as he relays her story to me. I can feel my body twitch with the background music of Le Destin de L'ange (The Angel's Destiny) playing in my head. I am tired of conveying her tragic flaws on stage. It doesn't translate to real life. It never has. It never will.
"I'm not the fūcking Angel," I bite.
My boyfriend, who is usually taken back by explicit words leaving my mouth, is not as entertained this time as they come out angrily. Taehyung's jaw tenses.
"I am bigger than words on a page." I say almost mockingly, reminding him of his own words.
It's low of him to refer to play after I have just spent months obsessing over it. It's his last ditch effort to stop me, it seems. It should anger me that he wants to play with my emotions like this, but I can't be mad at him. I love him too much.
He is holding his white dress shirt in his hand, still not getting ready. He is also unusually quiet— I'm waiting for the witty remark, but it never comes.
"Get dressed," I say to end the conversation.
I wait in the living room for him to finish. This is getting to be too much. Taehyung will not budge. He is begging me not to do this as if he knows something terrible is going to happen. He needs to relax. I'm usually the overthinker in this relationship, yet he is trying to steal my role. We are fighting too much, too deeply, too quickly.
I'm relieved that I don't wait long for him to appear. There's no time to even ogle at the suit as it adorns his body due to how heated the atmosphere here. We leave quietly, with not too many words spoken the entirety of the walk to the elevator, the elevator ride downstairs to the parking garage, the walk to the car, and the car ride to campus.
◽︎◼︎◽︎◼︎◽︎◼︎◽︎◼︎◽︎
❝the devil's dance❞
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We arrive to campus only fifteen minutes later. The sun has already sunken into the horizon early in the evening, and more snow flurries have overcome the dark pink sky. The streets are flooded with lights, snowmen, kids sledding down tall hills in playground areas, and people snuggled up in clothing while sipping on hot drinks. I watch silently as the world goes on outside the confines of the car. My dress is so big that I overflow into the console and onto Taehyung's lap. He doesn't touch it.
We don't say much to one another. I can tell by the way he grips the steering wheel more tightly after pulling into campus that he is angry still.
The charity event is taking place in the Art Building, but instead of the taking the main staircase left to enter the locker rooms and dance room where we practice, the staircase also takes you to an auditorium specifically for school events such as this one.
Taehyung parks in our usual, hidden parking spot behind the main building. The windows fogs up once the car becomes stagnant.
I gather my dress in my hands to prepare to step outside.
"Wait," Taehyung hurriedly grabs my forearm to stop me from opening the door. "Eunha."
I blink.
There isn't anything to say because he leans into me across the center console. Taehyung forces me into a painful kiss; his lips command mine slowly, but I don't stop myself from falling into him. My hand catches him at his chest, tightly grabbing the material of his buttoned shirt. I melt into his touch, repeating movements we have done many times before.
It's a painful kiss because I can feel his frustrations towards me translate into his mouth movements. His mouth is tender, slow. . . methodical, but rough. He rests his nose against mine before starting again. My lips become numb and swollen as he pulls and tugs at my lips. I can't catch my breath, but I find myself not wanting to. I squeeze my eyes closed and allow him to kiss me like this.
"Taehyung," I mumble breathlessly to stop him once I begin to truly lose my breath.
I push at his chest. His forehead falls against mine.
"It will be over soon." I press a chaste kiss to his cheek before distancing our faces.
He doesn't shift back into his seat. Taehyung leans his arm into the median like he wasn't ready to release me yet. I glance at his body language before looking into his eyes.
He nods regrettably. "Yeah. . ."
I give an assuring smile. Finally. He is accepting everything that is going on. He opens his mouth to say something. Nothing comes out.
"Hm?"
"Make sure you find Jungkook," is all he says.
"Of course," I nod. "You'll be able to see everything, too."
Taehyung doesn't reply to me. It isn't until he sinks back into his seat that I feel it is appropriate for me to get out of the car. His fingers are running against his lips, either in deep thought or recollection of our lips touching.
"I love you," he reminds me with a distant voice. He isn't looking at me.
I nod sheepishly. I almost can't hear myself as I reply, "I love you, too."
I'm more content with the state of our relationship when I climb out of the car. I can't help but also run my fingers against my lips once I'm walking in the cold and making my way towards the building without him. They're tingling. It's like Taehyung didn't want to stop. I glance back at the car when I'm a good distance alway. I'm expecting him to have already entered the back entrance where the staircase leads, but he hasn't moved.
Strange, I mentally note. Now that I'm thinking about it, the entirety of our exchange in the car was strange. I have no time to ponder because I'm already at the front entrance. Giant red and white balloons create an arch around the doors, and students from all different art clubs who want credit greet people as they walk in. I'm no exception. My big dress must make it obvious that I'm participating. Students clap for me when I walk by.
I'm relieved to feel the warmth of the building once I get far enough inside. As if on cue, my phone goes off. I have two messages.
Jungkook:
meet me upstairs in the observation room
Oh. He must be filming the whole event from there. It makes sense, after all, that room is designed for spectators to watch what is happening in the auditorium.
Namjoon:
meet me in the locker room
I look up to see where I am. Currently, I am standing in the center of a hallway with two options. I can either take the staircase up to Jungkook, or down to Namjoon. I obviously pick the former.
I gather my dress again to quickly find Jungkook upstairs. When I push open the door to the second floor, there are barely any lights illuminating the hallway. Distantly, a few lights flicker on and off. Faint up-beat techno music is blasting throughout every crevice of the building, bouncing off walls and vibrating in every direction. My dress drags slightly against the polished floors as I read the labeled doors. The music gets louder as I continue to walk. I shine my phone's flashlight in order to see. 201, 203, 205, 207, auditorium observatory.
When I enter the observatory, I squint my eyes to acclimate myself to the brightness. Although the room's lights are off, the bright lights of the auditorium shine into the observatory like center stage spotlights. Jungkook is leaning over his computer.
"Hey," I greet him. "We have to be quick. Namjoon is waiting for me."
I unzip my jacket and shrug it off my shoulders before placing it down on a nearby table. I fix my dress. It takes me a moment to take in Jungkook's appearance, and I'm taken back by what I'm seeing.
Jungkook is wearing a suit. I'm pleasantly surprised. He looks so handsome. The black suit jacket hugs his body snugly, a fitted white shirt tucked into his pants. He isn't wearing a tie, but that is his style. His top few buttons are undone and his tattoos peak out of his chest and neck. He pushes back his hair when he sees me. His eyes widen.
"Holy shit, Eunha," he gapes. "You look expensive."
My cheeks heat. "Thanks?"
"I mean," he shies, "you look beautiful."
His eyes look at me up and down. We both look expensive and beautiful. I don't think I could've ever imagined Jungkook in a suit. I'm pleased to say that I'm happy my imagination was wrong.
"I clean up nice, huh?" he says smugly.
"Don't ruin it," I laugh. "But yes. . . you look very handsome."
"This is what we want," he says more seriously. "Come look."
He uses his hand to gesture me forward. I join him close to glass. We are overlooking the auditorium. I'm shocked. The hall has been completely transformed. The center is designated for a lot of paired dancing, there's a judge's table not too far away, and there is a crowd of donors waiting in the many seats surrounding the dance floor. Decorations are everywhere. Red, white, silver, and gold streamers, balloons, confetti, and more overcome the space. A huge donation progress bar in the shape of a musical note is already shaded in quite a bit. My eyes roam all around.
I see Yoongi at the music player, and Jimin is awkwardly standing by the food and drinks. I continue looking. All the familiar faces of people in L'ange de Noël are everywhere. Even Hoseok I spot, who is sitting at the front table taking names.
"I can see everything," he says. "We're going to get him."
"What? What is your plan?"
I glance at Jungkook's camera. It's connected to his laptop, streaming the footage in real time just as he said. My attention is taken away from that when Jungkook is offering me something. It's a small black object.
"A mic?" I gape. "What is this, Charlie's Angel's?"
"This is my plan," he says.
"I-I. . ." I'm at a loss for words.
"Hey," he says calmly. "Otherwise I'll have footage with no ears."
He sounds like a character from some spy novel. I want to say no. I want to protest; however, it doesn't make sense for me to be against this.
I sigh. "Okay. Quickly."
Jungkook nods. It's a small black pebble-like object. His fingertips are freezing when he skims against my chest. I look upwards awkwardly, waiting for this to be over, as Jungkook pulls back the material at my cleavage. His knuckles dig into the top of my breast as he tries to secure the microphone against the fabric. The tension grows in the room as he continues to work against my body.
"I'm not feeling you up," he says defensively after some struggling.
"Sure," I pretend to not believe him.
He chuckles lowly. I glance down at his tattoed hand fixing my dress back into place. The contrast between his inked skin and my blank slate is interesting. He pulls away from me once the microphone is secure.
He puts his headset against his ear. "Testing, testing. . ."
"This is nerdy."
"I'm a film student," he reminds me. "Remember?"
My phone buzzes. I groan.
Namjoon:
?
My hands start to shake. It's all feeling too real. I glance out into the auditorium again, this time looking for Taehyung. I'm starting to panic a little bit when I can't find him. I could spot him anywhere. Where is he?
Jungkook must sense my panic. He places his hand on my shoulder to relax me. Our eyes meet, and I can tell he is concerned by the softness of his expression.
"Taehyung is so mad. . ."
"Sorry," Jungkook apologizes. "I should've kept my mouth shut."
"Why do you think Namjoon has been planning this all semester?"
Jungkook shrugs as if he isn't sure. His words, however, tell me that is not the case: "he has been talking about this since syllabus week. Initially I just thought he was trying to impress you by pretending to be interested in dancing. . ."
I'm such a fool. I'm hoping this isn't true, but it would answer so many questions. The obsession, the persistence, the constant nagging. . .
Jungkook continues, "I think Headmaster put him up to this to make more money."
The mention of headmaster worries me. Taehyung.
I am nibbling on my lip nervously. "S-So. . . what should I do now that. . ."
I look down at my chest. I'm referring to the microphone.
"Pretend it's not there, okay? Calm down."
Jungkook squeezes my shoulder. I can't calm down. My eyes are still worriedly searching for Taehyung, but I can't find him. I'm gnawing so harshly on my lips that I feel the skin break. I suck in the blood to make it stop.
My phone goes off against as a reminder of Namjoon's text.
I quickly type a reply. I'm not meeting him anywhere secluded.
You:
I'll be waiting at the entrance
I lock my phone before looking back into the crowd of people. I'm relieved when Taehyung finally appears. He entered through the back entrance of the auditorium. That door leads to a hallway connected to his office. He must've stopped there first to put his jacket down and everything. I feel slightly calmer.
Jungkook must see him too. "He'll forgive you."
"You think?"
"Yeah," my best friend assures me. "He's, like, poetically in love with you."
I know that's true, but I also know that we are at such odds right now that it almost seems unfixable. My lips are still tingling not only from my nervous biting, but from the kiss he left me with before we parted ways. It was an emotional kiss. If I didn't know any better, it almost felt like a goodbye.
Taehyung looks up at us. I'm frozen. I feel like I'm being noticed by someone I have been longing from afar. My heart jumps out of my chest. His eyes are hard as they try to look past the darkness of the room. I press my hand against the glass, but he can't see us. Jungkook flicks the flash of his camera on and off two times. Taehyung nods. They clearly went over the plan together.
I exhale deeply to relax myself. Calm. Cool. Collected. The event is officially starting in less than five minutes.
"Please don't let him hurt me," I look at Jungkook. "Taehyung will never forgive me, then."
Jungkook agrees with the shake of his head. "You should go."
My whole body is in some type of panicked state. I haven't felt this way in a long time. I shake my hands again to relieve my self of some nerves.
I look at Jungkook. We're in this together.
I pull him in for a hug. It's a tight one. Jungkook's muscular frame accepts my rash movement against his body. I wrap my arms around his frame from beneath his arms, and he squeezes me against him as my cheeks falls against his chest. He smells like weed. I humor myself as I pull away.
"I'll do what I can," I tell him.
"Alright," he pushes me to get going. "Love you."
I can't control my smile of surprise when he says this to me. I stumble backwards and away from him. Jungkook must realize the slip of his tongue, because he leans in towards my boobs to talk into the microphone hurriedly, "Platonically, platonically!"
It's my turn to push him away. "Shut up! Relax! Love you, too."
We share the same timid smile at each other. His soft side is showing. I think it's because he is covering so many of his tattoos. Jungkook doesn't know how to cope with this new, fresh and clean identity.
I pull my dress towards my mouth, whispering into the microphone, "platonically."
Jungkook hears it in his headset. He rolls his eyes. I shake my head at him when I exit the observatory.
The little encounter actually helped rid myself of some of my nerves. My steps are lighter, my anxiety is lifted, and I feel mellow. I can do this. Confidence radiates off of me as I make my way down the staircase. The hallway is much more populated now even though only a few minutes have passed.
It's hard to find my way to the entrance to the auditorium. So many couples are standing in the hallway talking. I can overhear all of their strategies and concerns. One girl is on her period, and is worried that she won't have enough time during the breaks to use the bathroom. One guy is telling his partner not to step on his shoes. Another guy is having stomach problems. Their voices eventually begin to overlap too much that I can't hear anything.
And then I see him.
Standing exactly where I told him to meet me, Namjoon is already watching me as I elbow through people to get to him. I must stick out like a sore thumb with this dress. We are evidently, although I don't want to admit it, the best dressed here.
His crimson red tie matches my dress tastefully. It's hard to admit how good he looks, but the personality is enough to cancel it out. He is smirking at me when I approach him.
"Eunhie," he greets me menacingly. "What a pleasure. You look. . . wow."
I don't say anything. He grips my wrist harshly to force the back of my palm to his lips. I try to pull my hand away, but he is too strong. He pecks my skin.
"I thought you were going to play nice?"
It occurs to me that my game plan right now should be to appease him and make him forget that any such boyfriend, regardless of a hidden identity, exists. I correct myself.
"I agreed to come. I'm just nervous. There are a lot of spectators."
I glance into the auditorium. It's actually shocking how many people are here to donate. They must be part of the community, or something, because I was expecting other Loomis students to be supporting their friends. Instead, middle-aged adults flood the stands.
Namjoon intertwines our fingers. "They must be waiting for us."
I think he is trying to be endearing with his words. It's hard to tell. We walk together into the auditorium and I'm starting to feel the heat of my responsibility tonight. I need to be everything he wants me to be. I will let him win this battle, because maybe it could mean the end of a war. We need this.
"Dancers! Please make your way onto the dance floor! Dancers! Please make your way onto the dance floor!"
The person announcing is one of my backup dancers in L'ange de Noël. Her voice booms over the lowered volume of music. I look at Yoongi. He gives a thumbs up to the announcer before slightly lowering the volume again.
Namjoon and I make our way into the abyss of other coupled dancers after signing in. All of our names are on an electronic board next to the donation progress bar. I feel so trapped. With Joon holding onto my hand, the mass of people surrounding us, and the spotlight shining down atop my head, I'm like a prisoner to my own devices. I gulp.
"Welcome to the second anual Dance-a-thon!"
Namjoon squeezes my hand. I hide a grimace.
"The rules are simple! Dancers, we are dancing until the last couple is standing! Two minute breaks will be given every hour,"
"Spectators, donate to your favorite couple! If your highest donation is one of the last couples standing, you will go home with a cash prize!"
My go wide. They are basically betting on us.
"Let's raise some money!"
I look at Joon. His eyes are on the crowd. I follow his gaze. He is looking at a very conspicuous group of men seated at the far end of the audience. I have a horrible feeling deep down.
"J-Joon," I pull on his arm for his attention.
His eyes flick to me. Due to our height difference, he is forced to look down at me. He smirks.
"How long are we dancing for?"
He lets out a fake laugh. "Until the end."
"I don't think I can."
He is about to reply to me, but he can't. The announcer's voice booms loudly into the auditorium again: "Three, two, one! Go!"
Suddenly he pulls me into him. A slow song begins the night. Joon's hand clasps over mine, and his other one falls to my waist. I have no choice but to go with the most comfortable option— my hand softly rests on his shoulder. We sway. I grimace. We sway. I grimace.
"I didn't prepare for this," I am mumbling mostly to myself. "I haven't eaten properly. I didn't go to the bathroom—"
Namjoon cuts into my own self-worries, "the bathroom is close. You'll be able to go in 58 minutes."
Wow, he sounds normal and sane in his response for once.
I'm worried. We are dancing slowly, clearly saving our energy by doing the bare minimum, and I'm forced to watch the people around us without the opportunity to beg someone to help me. This isn't going to work. Too much was said the last time we were together.
His touch is progressively making me more and more distressed. I didn't mentally prepare enough to be this close with him.
I search for Taehyung. The expedition is short lived because Namjoon wants to talk.
"You're feeling better since we last spoke, hm?"
I bite my tongue. I consciously decide what to say.
"You were right," the phrase hurts as it leaves my lips. "I. . . I was blinded."
I lean my head into his chest to mask my expression. I'm cringing to myself at how bad that sounded out loud. I need to succumb to that dark part of me who is good at this; pretending. Where is she?
His chest is not comforting in the slightest.
"Blinded. . ."
"Yes," I elaborate. "I was so concerned with cutting ties with my father, and you-you were being so perfect and everything he wanted. . . I didn't know what to do."
The lies spill out of me. My default setting is to complain about my father. It's so easy to surround myself with lies associated with him since they are partly true. I mean, lying about him has gotten me out of many situations with Joon in the past. I'm sticking with what works.
"Ah," Namjoon says as if realizing. "You think I was overstepping, then? By trying to have a good relationship with him."
Overstepping? What an understatement.
"Y-Yes," I breathe. I'm scared to say the wrong thing. So much is riding on my performance tonight. "I don't particularly want a relationship with him."
He chuckles lowly. I can feel the vibration in my ear against his chest.
"Daddy issues," he remarks. "Explains a lot."
I furrow my eyebrows at his offensive and rude comment. I bite my tongue again.
"Well," I ignore his comment. "I cut him off. . ."
"So that you can dance?"
Namjoon seems oddly interested in what I'm saying. I'm trying to be careful with what I respond with, but it's very difficult.
"Mhm," I reply, instead of words. Hopefully that helps.
It doesn't. "Or so that I couldn't blackmail you into doing what I wanted anymore?"
I want to pull away. I want to stop dancing. I want to do anything and everything to get out of this situation. It is my first instinct. When I pull my head away from his chest, I'm reminded that I can't go anywhere. I need to stay on task. Keep him happy so that there is no digging into Vante.
Namjoon's thick voice chills my eardrums. "You are so good at feeding me bullshit. It's hot."
My face twists. Namjoon leans forward and pecks my cheek. I can't do anything.
My eyes do a panic sweep of the auditorium. I'm looking for Taehyung again. Come on. Instead of him, I find Headmaster standing near the sign-in sheet. I follow where he is looking.
Lo and behold, Headmaster Kim is also looking at that conspicuous group of men in the crowd. My stomach drops when I realize they are all looking at me. What the hell?
Taehyung and Jungkook are right. This is all a set up. My eyes go to the donation chart. Namjoon and I are at the very top, thousands of dollars ahead of everyone else. This is disgusting. My eyes actually begin to tear momentarily at how many emotions are hitting me at once. Greasy strange men are betting on my dancing to fund a drug operation.
My fingers are shaking again. I tighten my hold against the fabric of Namjoon's jacket to keep my nerves settled.
"Eunhie," Joon calls for my silence to end. "I like the real you. You can be yourself around me."
The real me. He is starting to sound exactly like that subconscious that I got rid of. That wasn't the real me. Eunha, the girl who I know myself to be, cares about other people and wants to have healthy relationships— not ones that rely on blackmail and hate.
My tongue is about to metaphorically fall off by how much I'm biting it. I want to say so much.
"It's different with you," I attempt to sound believable.
"What do you mean?"
"Well. . . I-I spent a lot of time reflecting since our fight. . . and I really do think you were right about everything."
I'm getting dizzy now. Only thirty minutes have passed yet some couples already sat down. I guess this isn't much fun. It gets boring easily. Luckily for me, I don't think a conversation with Namjoon could ever be boring.
Namjoon wants more information. "Hm. . . keep going."
"I fūcked up," I use bad language for sincerity. "I trusted Jungkook, I lied to you, and most importantly, I lied to myself. You knew it all along. . ."
He is pleased. Joon's eyes light up as I spoonfeed him a dialogue that he has been wanting to hear for months most likely. My tongue is on fire.
"S-So manny people want me to be something I'm not," I say. "You never do that. I-I like that. . ."
"Finally," Joon coos happily. "You are starting to see."
I almost forgot that Jungkook is listening in on the conversation. I look up at the observation room. It's too dark to see much. My eyebrows raise to see that there are two figures in there. Given that I can't find Taehyung, yet I can see Jimin talking to Hoseok, I am suspecting that my boyfriend is the one up there talking to Jungkook.
Oh no. Taehyung can hear everything.
"Jungkook is a piece of shīt, Eunha. You can't trust him."
I'm too distracted by the thought of Taehyung listening to us. I barely heard him.
"Huh?"
"He's a bit obsessed with you," Namjoon continues. Is he trying to turn me against Jungkook? "All he does is talk about you. He even stalks where you are. You shouldn't talk to him."
"W-Why does he do that?"
My chest feels heavy because of the microphone. My best friend can hear all of this. What angle is Namjoon playing right now? I suspect that this is his attempt to cut me off from my only friend.
Joon looks at me as if it's obvious. I'm not getting it.
"Come on," he laughs deeply. "You aren't naive, Eunhie. You know what guys want."
No, I know what you want.
"Jungkook wants me?"
Joon nods. "Why do you think Hana flipped the fūck out?"
The thought of my old roommate is like a distant buzz. Flashes of her striking me, ripping up my notes, and throwing her desk appear in my mind. The insanity. She was jealous of me during that time; she thought I was sneaking around with Jungkook.
I can't believe I'm entertaining Namjoon's words right now. It's nonsense.
He continues, "Jungkook became insanely jealous. . . he stalked you for weeks to find out if you were in a relationship."
No. The reference to Taehyung makes me want to scream. I didn't want to get to this point. And now that Namjoon is bringing it up with a bunch of lies about Jungkook, it is seemingly worse than how I pictured this happening. He is now trying to feed me all of this bullshīt to make me believe him. . .
"How do you think I found out about that indie artist?"
I close my eyes at the final blow. Joon is twisting the situation to fit his narrative. He is trying to paint a picture for me, again. He is writing in character arcs that never even occurred.
I control my expression. Namjoon's hand on my waist not-so-subtly shifts downward towards the curve of my back.
"There is no indie artist," I mutter.
My voice is almost nonexistent.
"You like to undress in galleries for Jungkook, then?"
My eyes dart at the timer. Our first break isn't for another five minutes. My palms are sweating. I partly wish I had worn foundation today to cover up how red my cheeks are. I can't find my breath. This is going very bad. I need to steer us in the right direction.
I am so caught off guard that I'm finding it hard to say anything. Namjoon takes advantage of that.
"Wait, so you did fūck Jungkook?"
"What are you saying?" I exasperate. "No. I'm not even friends with him. He lied to me too much, and y-yeah, he was getting creepy. He takes pictures of me. . . and used to follow me to Linne's diner."
I'm saying anything to stop this, but he won't stop.
Joon narrows his eyes down at me. "I don't believe you, Eunha."
"Why?"
"You were undressing for someone," he says, clearly navigating the conversation in the direction he wants to go.
Now I am really panicking. I have half a mind to try to convince him that Jungkook is the one who took those photos for his portfolio, but then I would be throwing him under the bus. I can't tell Joon that Jungkook lied to him. That would dig Jungkook into a deeper hole. What do I do?
I'm scrambling for what to say. I look at the clock. Three more minutes.
"Eunha, if you don't tell me, I think I might have to do something I'll regret."
His threat pushes me closer to the edge. I feel like I'm on stage and I've lost my sense of direction. The end of the stage is approaching me, and I continue to do pirouettes to make sure the audience is entertained. I'm lost. There is no direction. With Namjoon swaying in circles with me, I'm starting to feel disoriented.
I find it in my chest to approach the topic.
"You'll push me down the stairs?"
"You didn't hear?" Namjoon asks rhetorically; unphased. "There was an investigation. The slope of the staircase is too steep."
I frantically start looking for Headmaster. He's covering it up. Bitna won't get justice.
Too much is happening all at once. Dots are being connected, my deepest fears are surfacing, and yet I can't do anything about it. We continue to sway. The feeling I have is like I'm seasick.
The worst part is that I'm not alone in this conversation with Joon. My boyfriend has to listen to this. This is exactly why he didn't want tonight to happen.
His threat has been received. He bested me.
"I'm with you," I tell Joon as confidently as I can.
His tightening hold on my hand finally lets up.
I continue, "I thought that's what tonight is? Us. . . our debut together."
I swallow my tears. My cries get stuck in my swollen throat. I will give up everything if it means this can all end. I will give up myself. I deserve to be treated like shīt for the way I've acted in the past. Taehyung, Jungkook, Jimin, even Hoseok. . . they don't deserve this.
I glance up at the observatory. I wish I could see Taehyung's face. I hope he can see my pained expression behind my pretense.
"Oh?" Joon is surprised. One more minute.
I glance at the intimidating men in the stands. My voice drops into a low whisper, "this dress will get us some money, hm?"
His dark eyes grow with yearning. He smirks at me, content that I've started to understand what is going on. His hand finally finds a resting place on my āss. I feel violated in so many ways that I can't decide what to focus on.
"You're getting it. . ."
"Mhm," I nod.
"You're not mad at me?"
I bite my lip and shake my head. "I told you, you were right."
"Yes," Namjoon agrees. "You deserve better than some lousy professor, anyway."
Some lousy professor. It's done. He knows. My body is in shock.
I can't stop what happens next. It happens much too quickly. Namjoon pulls me into him. Our lips meet, but I am frozen. Tears start streaming down my face because I can't hold them in anymore. It's over.
I thought I could, but I'm not that dark, twisted vessel of a person anymore. His actions affect me. I push at his chest to get off of me, and I'm intent on disqualifying us from the dance, but the timer beats me to it.
People in the crowd start cheering. Bells start going off, and it's like there is a celebration for us. When I look at the progress bar, significantly more money has been added to the pool.
"Attention dancers, your two minute break starts now!"
I wipe away my tears, but I can't wipe away the hurt.
"Excuse me," I say quickly.
I start running towards the exit.
I don't know where I'm going until I do know. My legs lead me to the staircase, where I follow the familiar path up into the observatory. I barge open the door. Jungkook is alone. He pulls off his headset when he sees me.
Jungkook is evidently affected by what he listened too also; his jacket is off and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.
"Eunha—"
"Where is he?" I cry out for Taehyung.
I don't have time to think of my best friend. I'm concerned for Taehyung. I need to grab him, and we need to leave this place. I don't care about the consequences. My boyfriend was right. This was wrong. He covered up Bitna's fall, for fūck's sake. I can't compete with that.
My wild eyes search the auditorium through the glass. Taehyung isn't down there.
"Eunha, breathe."
I'm running out of the room as Jungkook attempts to speak. I hear him call out for me, but I'm already in the stairwell on my way to Taehyung's office. The amount of time that I have to return isn't on my mind at all. I don't plan on returning. I don't care about the stupid money, or this dance-a-thon, or anything else other than me, myself, and Taehyung.
I'm gasping for air as my adrenaline slowly dies down. I am jogging down the hallway, thankful for my sneakers, as I approach my boyfriend's office. I exhale deeply through my nose to control my breathing. It's so quiet. The faint music from the auditorium echoes in the distance.
As I approach the door, I can hear conversation. I stop before anyone can see me.
"Why is one of my imbecile students claiming that Vante is sleeping with his girlfriend?"
It's Headmaster Kim.
My jaw drops. I have to cover my mouth to stop myself from audibly responding. Headmaster Kim doesn't sound like his usual, authoritative self. His words are almost tired, as if he is used to this.
The silence is from Taehyung's hesitance to respond. His deep voice eventually sinks into the air.
"Why are you befriending a student to run your drugs on campus?"
My boyfriend's tone is cold. It's coming out of him too naturally; the dynamic of the conversation feels like they have been down this road before. Even the way Headmaster chuckles a little bit at Taehyung's threat is telling.
Footsteps erupt behind me. I'm relieved that it's Jungkook who followed me, and not Namjoon.
I press my finger to my lips as an indication for him to be silent. Jungkook slides next to me against the wall with a nod. We both listen.
"Don't get on your moral high-horse now, Taehyung. Don't forget what I've done for you."
Headmaster Kim is referring to hiring Taehyung despite his history with Dalia.
"How can I?" Taehyung retorts. "You hold it over me every chance you get."
Headmaster reminds me of Joon the way he is snickering with malice: "Rightfully so, it seems. . ."
"You don't have to worry about me," Taehyung replies evasively.
I glance at Jungkook. We share the same anxious expression.
"Oh. Whatever," Headmaster gripes. "This kid is a nuisance, but he was willing to make me double tonight if I hired my PI to look into Vante."
The mention stings my chest. The room falls quiet. My eyes widen. Jungkook's eyes widen. A wave of shock must catch all of us, because Taehyung doesn't reply. I bite down on my finger in anticipation for the next words that are going to be said. It's difficult to hear through the door.
"Not even a plea? 'Please don't do that, Jin,'" he taunts.
Taehyung bites back. "You've already done it."
His calmness is commendable. No matter what Headmaster says to him, Taehyung is above the punch. It's worrying. Taehyung has been thinking of every possible scenario, waiting for it to be used against him.
"You're right about that, old friend. He brought the star of our play here tonight. My clients are very happy. We're looking at a lot of money. . ."
This only confirms it. My teary eyes could not possibly become more teary. Hearing the Headmaster of my school talk like this. . . about me. . . I'm scared to look at my friend next to me. When I eventually do, he gives an empathetic look mixed with shock. I suppose that's how I'm feeling, too.
Taehyung is quiet for too long. Headmaster is on to him,
"Oh," he gapes. "It's her?"
More silence.
"When do you learn, Taehyung? Old dog, same tricks. . . The lead of the play? I hate to do this, but business is business."
Jungkook and I jump back when we hear the door handle turn. I fall back into his body in fright of being seen. He catches me by my forearms. I'm holding my breath. We both freeze.
Taehyung stops Headmaster from leaving. He says, spitefully, "be careful on your way out. I hear the slope of the stairs are steep."
I fall into Jungkook with even more defeat. Taehyung heard everything. My best friend holds onto me so that I don't fall to the ground. I find his thigh behind me and dig my fingertips into him to stop myself from doing anything irrational.
Headmaster sounds a bit surprised.
"A threat?"
"Yes," Taehyung says. "And a handful of students willing to sell you out."
I'm scared at the direction this is going. Why is he doing this? He is threatening Headmaster. Was this his back-up plan? He is doing this for me? For us?
I wish I could see what's going on. There's no way for me to know Headmaster's expressive reaction. I wait for more words to be spoken.
"You've built a case against me?" asks Headmaster.
"There doesn't have to be one."
Headmaster is quiet. Taehyung continues, "Namjoon is a problem. He will talk about both of us if you don't give him what he wants."
Headmaster chuckles. "You're going to talk if I don't give you what you want."
"No," Taehyung quips.
"No?"
The next sentences are Taehyung's, but I am in too much disbelief to register that my boyfriend actually said them. . .
"I'm done here after this semester. I will leave with everything if you just let me go, and you tell Namjoon to take a fūcking hike."
This is the first I'm hearing of this. My mind is on fire. Why didn't Taehyung tell me about any of his ideas? He is doing all of this in a secret meeting. . . without any acknowledgement that I would want to support him and help him in making his decisions. He decided to throw away his career to stop Namjoon? That's his plan?
Headmaster isn't exactly convinced that Taehyung will leave. "And the girl?"
"I'm leaving her," Taehyung replies easily. "I don't care. I don't want to be caught."
Jungkook pulls on my dress to get my attention. Nothing can take my attention away from what I've just heard. My face twists in a quivering mess, cries expelling out of me. I almost fall to the ground, but Jungkook holds on to me. I don't care, he says? He doesn't want to be caught?
This is his plan?
My best friend's hold isn't a great defense against my aching heart. My body falls forward and to the ground. I stare down at the floor with tears rushing down my face.
Before I can open my mouth to cry loudly, pour my heart out, my frustrations, my deception, my feelings of betrayal, Jungkook grabs me with both arms; his hand covers my mouth to silence me, and he pulls me in an attempt to help me stand up. I fall backward into him, again, just like in the Dark Room.
My back hits into his chest and it's like I'm there again. Jungkook scrambles beneath me against the polished floors of the hallway. The image of Taehyung's office door begins multiplying in my sight. I can't focus on anything; I can't stand up.
"Stop," Jungkook grunts as I fight against him. "Eunha."
I push him away from me and finally stand. I feel backed into a corner. Alienated. Alone. I'm swimming in darkness. When I look down at my hands, I can see the blood again. My hands start shaking uncontrollably.
Taehyung's office door swings open due to the commotion. My boyfriend's stare is of nothing I've ever seen. Caught. Heard. Seen through. My broken stare gets lost in his narrowed eyes. He must think I'm crazy.
Maybe I am.
"Eunhie?" Joon's voice then booms from down the hallway. "We're going to be disqualified."
Christ, motherfūcker! Everything is crashing down on me. With wild eyes I set sight on Namjoon. His eyebrows raise when he sees me and Jungkook together. I am now taking large paces back and forth with my hands at my head: my pointer finger pressing into my forehead, and my thumb smushed against my cheek.
"What's going on?" Joon demands.
I start shaking my head. This can't be happening.
This won't ever end. The cycle will continue.
Joon is approaching me. My shaking fingertips travel to almost all of my nerves. My knees begin to shake, and my teeth are chattering. I'm so scared. All I can imagine is Bitna. . . he pushed her down the stairs and now he's going to get away with it. He is threatening Taehyung's life and now he's going to get away with it. He's getting away with everything.
I am so scared for him to touch me again. Joon is taking wide strides towards me, and when he reaches his hand out for me, I know that he wants to grab me by my arm and take me back into the auditorium. I keep backing away from him, crying, envisioning his hands on me. I don't like it. I don't like it.
"Namjoon," Taehyung's strict voice booms in an effort to stop him. Joon doesn't listen.
I back up until I can't anymore. I hit into the staircase doorway. I'm crying so much that I can barely see anything when I turn and push it open with the palms of my hands. I stumble onto the platform.
Yellow caution tape floods the vicinity. The hurry I feel to get away from Joon does not communicate to what I'm looking at; the staircase is blocked off. I stand at the top of it, my fingertips dancing along the bouncing caution tape. The lights are off at the bottom landing. I'm staring into a black hole of darkness. Emptiness. Bitna must have felt all of these things when she fell.
I'm startled when someone appears from my left. It's Jimin coming in from the locker room.
"Eunha? I've been looking for you everywhere."
I can't reply. My chest is heaving. I worriedly look behind me, and through the rectangular window out into the hallway, and see Joon walking towards us. Jungkook is following behind him.
Joon bursts through the door abruptly. I gasp in surprise when he strides towards me. Jimin jumps back at the sudden intrusion.
"You little bītch," Joon snarls.
He grabs me by my neck and pushes my against the wall. My head slams against the concrete. It isn't until my feet lift from the ground that I start to panic. I can't breathe. My fingertips try to pry his hands off of my neck, but I'm too weak.
Don't push me, I want to cry. I can't. He is restricting my neck so much that I can't say a word. I close my eyes and prepare for his strength to completely overcome me. . . for him to push me into the darkness; force me into it.
"Get off her!"
Jimin grabs Namjoon by the shoulders and pulls him back. My body falls forward and my knees hit the ground. I gasp for air and uncontrollable coughs escape me.
Jungkook is the next one to open the door. He immediately aids in breaking up Jimin and Joon's fighting. Joon has punched Jimin in the face twice already. Blood pours from his nose.
I watch in awe as Jungkook shoves Joon harshly into the wall, subduing him.
"You're ruining everything, you slūt!" Namjoon yells.
Jungkook's hand is at his chest to stop him from coming at me.
"Shut the fūck up," Jungkook warns him.
Everyone is heaving for a steady breathing pattern. Jimin, although bloody and probably in pain, helps me up from my kneeling position. I latch my hands onto his clothing as if I can help him lift my dead weight. My head is pounding, my neck is sore, and my knees are aching.
The steady sounds of heaving don't last long. The moment I am standing, and Jimin is no longer helping me, Namjoon is spitting more insults at me.
"What a fūcking little threesome we have here," he hisses.
The door opens again. This time it's Taehyung. I can't even look at him. I bring my hand to my swollen neck and shy away. . . wanting to be invisible. I sink into my dress, but Taehyung won't allow me to disappear from his narrative. He uses uses his body as a layer of defensive from Joon.
Namjoon starts chuckling menacingly at the sight of Taehyung protecting me.
"I see you've found a new daddy now," he taunts. "What is Professor, a way to cope with your daddy issues?"
"That's enough," Taehyung remarks.
"Fūck you, Namjoon," I cry.
Jungkook pushes Namjoon into the wall again when he makes a move. Joon asks, rhetorically, "what? You're scared I'm going to be push her?"
The silence that follows his question is telling. I clutch onto the railing as if there is a possibility he can push me from afar. All I can feel is fright. I can feel the darkness waiting for me. . . as if it's mad that I'm not following it.
It falls quiet only for a moment. Joon has stopped struggling against Jungkook to be freed. The two of them are staring at one another.
Joon is smirking. "You didn't tell them, Jungkook?"
My face falls. I glance worriedly at Jimin. His face is covered in blood. . . it has spread all over his shirt and hands. He is defensive; his eyes don't leave Joon's sight.
"Go on," Namjoon taunts. "Tell them who they really should be afraid of."
"W-What?" I tremble.
Jungkook starts crying. He looks at Jimin.
Jimin blows out a whimper. "No. . ."
My best friend is sobbing as he nods his head. No. This can't be true.
"Tell them what you did, Jungkook," Joon persists.
Taehyung is quick to interject, repeating. "That's enough."
The three of us are crying almost uncontrollably at this point. Jimin's blood is now slipping and sliding all over his skin due to the tears he is incessantly wiping away. Jungkook, on the other hand, is distraught. His lips are quivering, and he can barely stand up straight. He lowers his hand from Namjoon's chest.
Jungkook says to Jimin, "I-I had no choice."
"You pushed her. . ." Jimin croaks.
Jungkook's crying turns into anger. He starts yelling, probably to air out his anger and frustrations, before punching Namjoon in the face.
It all happens so fast after that. Even today, right now, as I recount what happened, I still can't recall exactly what I saw. I don't know what happened.
My body is shoved out of the way by Taehyung as the four men grab each other. It must be Jungkook's punch that incites Taehyung to get involved. I remember that much. Taehyung pulls Jungkook away from Joon in order to protect him. . . but then Namjoon turns to hurt Jimin just to get back at Jungkook. . .
They all had their hands on him; Namjoon.
Until no one did.
I can still hear the ripping of the caution tape. The adhesive is no match for Joon's weight. I flinch when the first bang fills the air. The second one is more of a thump.
I have my hands over my eyes for the majority of the absolute silence that follows. There is no need to say anything. . .
It is at that moment, I remember, when I peer through the gaps in my fingers, that it becomes obvious.
He is dead.
END OF ACT III
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all I can say right now is thank you. for everything. epilogue to follow. ♡
**remember: the play's plot ends here! not the book's plot. The angel/demon death relieves everyone of their conflict in the lens of the L'ange de Noël. Eunha, Taehyung, Jungkook, etc. still have some character arc they need to finish. ♥︎