Faye
Flicking my makeup brush for the last time over my cheeks, I look in the mirror, and I can admit (with modesty) that I look stunning. I am never the one complimenting myself, since I have deep self-love issues, but tonight I feel different.
I feel like something will change, and I am ready for whatever the future prepared for me. Yesterday night, after a horrible Friday of cold behavior and mean comments from my boss, Hobi invited me to a ball.
He said the guys from the studio organized a party for him, as the crew's newest member, and that he had some important news to share with me. He went all mysterious and shady without giving me many details because he wanted to be a surprise so I played along and did not ask questions.
Except those related to the dress code.
He mentioned the word 'ball,' thus I needed something more than the usual dress you take for a night out. I spent the whole morning trying to find the perfect outfit, moving from one shopping mall to another, until I found it.
As usual, I wanted to be dressed in blue, the color marking my existence. But when I was passing by a small boutique, the background noise disappeared, my feet immediately stopped moving, and the angels were singing, calling me inside.
Or maybe I imagined everything because I was tired.
This dazzling long, dark purple dress was made for me. Tight on the body, with a long slit starting a bit below the bikini line, off-shoulders, and silky material. The only downfall was that it was not blue.
But maybe that was the sign a needed a change.
I fooled myself as a child that my favorite color was blue to please my father, but I have always adored pink instead. And if you combine these two, you obtain purple. So here I am, writing a new chapter of my life, walking on a new road, wearing a new color.
I get in the taxi and give the driver the address of the event. The nervousness in my stomach is growing as I get closer, and now I think a different hairstyle would have helped me better. I let my long, thick, blonde hair fall free on my shoulders in wavy, natural curls. However, the impatience makes me sweat more than ever, forming a pool of heat behind my neck.
Arriving at the destination, I pay the driver and try to get all the material out of the cab in the smoothest way possible. I take a deep breath and shyly walk toward the entrance, where I see my favorite boys waiting for me.
Jungkook, Hobi, and Jimin are passionately engaged in a conversation until Jungkook notices me, and they all stop talking. No one says anything, all staring at me without making a sound.
Comfortable, right?
"What? Is it too much?" I ask, the anxiety building up as the seconds pass.
"Damn, Faye. You are dressed to kill. I am sorry, but I literally don't know any English word to express how beautiful you are tonight." Hobi smiles, coming to hug me.
"I may know some," Jimin starts talking with a cocky grin, "Roses are red, violets are blue, your ass looks great, let me make love to you."
"Oh, Jimin, I did not know you are into poetry." I tip my head back and laugh.
"Or, roses are red, violets are blue, your dress looks stunning, but it would look better off you."
My cheeks hurt from all the laughing. Jimin and his jokes. They can be cringe but always funny.
"Or no, no, bluebird, hear me out. Roses are red, violets are blue, I am bad with rhymes, but I'd like to fu - "
"JIMINSHII," Jungkook yells at him, punching his shoulder.
"Entertain you..." Jimin whines, massaging his shoulder in pain, "That's what I was going to say."
I cover my belly, unable to hold back from the funny scene I witness.
Jimin is absolutely adorable, and that's his way of expressing all the cuteness. I got that he liked my outfit. Very loud and clear. But he knows there is a line he cannot cross when Jungkook is around. Hobi takes him inside, leaving Jungkook and me alone.
We stare deeply at each other, his eyes traveling every inch of my body as he gets closer. He is all about self-gratification, not missing any detail, devouring my presence shamelessly. Without any warning, he snakes his hand around my waist, smashing his lips into mine. I moan into his mouth, his kiss becoming ravenous and uncontrollably savage.
We had our hot makeout sessions more than I can count, but this time it feels like he's fucking me through our kiss, desperate to knock out the air in my lungs. The only thing I can think of is telling him how freaking soaked I am, and I'm sure having him inside me will scratch the itch.
He breaks our kiss with slow moves, still holding on to my waist.
"Perfect. You are fucking perfect," he whispers, a shiver rolling down my spine, "How can I ever take my eyes off you?"
"Then don't," I reply, my hands moving toward his collar.
He kisses me again, and we walk through the large doors.
The ballroom is enormous, big enough to host half of the city without being crowded. The tall ceilings are decorated with crystal chandeliers, creating a refined, royal feel. Across the room, artificial trees are scattered, covered by small crystal decorations that match the ceiling.
It's nothing like I expected, everything looking high-end and expensive as shit. I guess the guys did not hold back in spending money for our precious Hobi. Jungkook excuses himself to find Yoongi, and I mingle through all the unknown people, searching for familiar faces.
At the bar, there is no one else than Hobi and Jimin, enjoying themselves with extravagant cocktails.
"My beautiful bluebird. Did you get rid of the big bad wolf already?" Jimin's eyes examine the crowd, scared of another punch.
"Sorry, love. But you asked for it." I pat his shoulder and turn to Hobi, "Sunshine, will you tell me what the special occasion is? I'm dying to know what are the big news you wanted to share."
"Patience, my darling," Hobi takes my hand, his eyes flickering with excitement, "It will be worth it."
He better be right; otherwise, I have to ask Jungkook to punch him as well.
I only know a handful of people around here, including the guys that helped us with the advertisement. I take a glass of champagne from the young waiter standing next to us and try to take small sips not to get myself drunk.
Scanning the room quickly, I see Yoongi looking happier than ever talking to Jungkook, but then fury is bubbling up inside me like a raging storm. Jessi holds onto Jungkook's arm, letting her head fall from time to time to his shoulder as she laughs at whatever Yoongi is saying.
She looks like a Korean barbie with an overkill of fake tanning lotion, wearing a way too tight red dress, strangling her boobs. I'm no therapist, but Jessi is for sure all shades of fucked-up, desperate for attention, and thirsty for a man who does not belong to her.
Gnawing my lips in vexation, I put down my flash of temper and choose to act reasonably, remembering Jungkook's reassuring words. I believe him. He said there is nothing between them, and he obviously does not like the situation, moving uncomfortably every time she leans in.
My body is getting fidgety, and my fingers are itchy as if they would love to adjust her hairstyle, so I grab Jimin's arm instead and take him to the dance floor, somehow close to them to have a better look.
He does not object, following my lead between the people like a good boy.
"Are you okay, bluebird? You look a bit flushed." Jimin wraps his hands around my waist, guiding my hips from side to side.
"I'm good," I respond fast, my eyes searching for Jungkook.
I want to look at him, but I'm afraid he'd catch me in the act. I wouldn't want him to think I'm jealous and clingy but at the same time, having Jessi here gives me a frantic unease, pushing me to act like a teenager.
Once Jungkook's eyes and mine lock together, I pull Jimin closer and rest my arms on his shoulders, causing Jungkook to adopt a sullen look.
"Look, birdie. I know I can be irresistible, but it will be your fault if I get a purple eye at the end of this night."
"Why would you get a purple eye?" I ask him, my eyes fixated on Jungkook, who looks slightly irritated.
"Because Kookie does not like anyone to touch his girl," he cackles, spinning me around, "So, are you two together now?"
Here we go, the question with no answer.
"No, we are not. Not that I am aware of, at least. But we do spend a lot of time together if that counts."
"Then, I guess you are," Jimin's words make me pull back enough to look him in the eyes, "Kookie does not know how to say these things, but I am sure you are more than a friend to him since you can cut the sexual tension between you two with a chainsaw. Perhaps my little bluebird needs some Korean water for her lady garden." he winks, making me close my eyes in embarrassment.
"You know that my ex-boyfriend was also Korean, right?"
"Oh shit. Better not tell Kookie that. He will go crazy."
"He already knows. I told him a few weeks ago."
"And the guy is still alive? Damn, woman, what did you do to my little brother?" he jokes as we continue our dance.
The moment I hear 'Heaven. I'm in heaven,' my heart somersaults in my chest with happiness. I am a sucker for jazz and swing, and the band tonight just made their best choice with the repertoire.
If Ella and Louis' Cheek to Cheek masterpiece does not make everyone present join the dance floor, then they all have no taste for good music.
I sway my hips and shoulders simultaneously, hitting every note of the song, having Jimin mirror me with confident moves. He gently grabs my hand, making me spin gracefully to the rhythm of the music, my back facing him.
I continue dancing when his grip on my waist suddenly intensifies, pulling me so close that my back glues to his chest. His hands travel down my stomach, and his head rests on my shoulder, our dance becoming too intimate for me.
I try to pull out from his embrace, but he keeps me in one spot holding me tighter, whispering the lyrics in my ear.
"Oh, I'd love to climb the mountain, reach the highest peak, but it doesn't thrill me half as much as dancing cheek to cheek,"
Hearing the husky voice and smelling the smooth absinthe flavor, I realize I'm not dancing with Jimin anymore but with Jungkook. My body relaxes under his touch, the temperature in the room becoming stifling hot, causing my breathing to pick up at an irregular pace.
I cover his hand with mine, tilting my head back on his shoulder, and the first thing I notice is his arousal poking me from behind. Without control, my body begins to cave for him, craving to convulse as he plants soft kisses on my neck.
Feeling the pressure mounting between my thighs, I manage to stop the tingling sensation building up and turn around to face him. His eyes are dark and hungry, and like a moth to a flame, I let myself be drawn by the heat and warmth of his body against mine.
"I did not know you like this song," I manage to say, getting out of his entrance.
"It's one of my favorites." he purrs back, his hands gripping rougher on my waist.
"Easy, tiger. You're going to ruin my dress."
"Wouldn't that be a shame?" he says with a roguish smirk smeared across his face, "I'd help you later with that little dress of yours."
My face turns red, and my knees become liquid. The weight of his words is heavily dropping my panties, and I can't wrap my head around the fact that his presence makes me feel so powerless.
"I have a surprise for you. You're coming to my place tonight."
He leans in to kiss my neck, but then the music stops, and the lights turn off, leaving all of us in complete darkness. A beautiful piano song plays somewhere in the background as a blue beam of light flashes on the stage, revealing a barefoot, white-dressed Jimin.
I don't know when he had time to change and hop on the stage, but this outfit makes him look like an angel. With a loose immaculate shirt and matching pants, he waves a long white silky scarf above his head.
His moves are delicate and elegant, floating in the air with each jump and sault as if gravity does not apply to him. He kneels on the floor and rises with agility, swinging his foot above his head, and dropping again to his knees.
Completely mesmerized, I gawk at him with my mouth wide open. He's an absolute genius. Now I finally understand why everyone calls him a prodigy in contemporary dance. With a final move, he rolls on the stage and gets up, his expression grave and sad.
And as if he couldn't conclude his dance on a sad note, he rips off his shirt, flashing us his perfectly toned abs under the crowd's loud murmur.
"Hands up if you liked my dance," he screams his lungs out, flexing his torso.
The whole room is going crazy, laughing and cheering, all the ladies throwing their arms to the ceiling. I can't help myself but join them when a deep voice whispers in my ear, making me stop.
"Hands down, princess," Jungkook commands with a devilish smile on his face.
"Oh, how much I love seeing you jealous," I taunt back, slamming my lips to his.
"Hi, everyone."
Hobi's voice echoes through the speakers as he holds the microphone nervously.
"I have a short announcement to make, and I say short because it's better to be on a stage while dancing than giving speeches," I smile at him reassuringly, "Not long ago, I made a choice that changed my life, and I am more than honored to share it with you. Firstly, many thanks for organizing this great party for me. I am sorry, but I can't give you the money back for all the expenses," everyone bursts into laughter. "For those of you who don't know, I am not a professional dancer but a tennis player."
People start booing him as a joke, making him giggle. That's a rather funny thing to say in a room full of dancers.
"I know, I know. That's what I kept saying to myself for the past years. However, something changed when I met this incredible person who gave me the courage to step up." Oh, the little words play, "If it weren't for her, you'd still be seeing me with a tennis racket in my hand. My only dream was to become a dancer, and I believe everyone here knows that once you grow up, the reality hits you like a glass of cold water splashed on your face." everybody nods quietly, agreeing with him, "I was scared of the consequences, scared of what my family would think of it because this was not my first attempt to do what I loved the most. So my younger self gave up on the dream. Ironically, my current self would have also given up if she wouldn't have stuck her nose in my businesses." Jungkook laughs behind me, asking for a punch in the stomach. "She was the one who helped me get here today. Not that she actually taught me how to dance. That's all thanks to me." people chuckle hysterically as I roll my eyes, "But she became the voice in my head, my consciousness, pushing me to give it a shot. It's difficult to explain in words what dancing means to me. Let's just say that when I dance, I am free, like I'm riding on clouds. I forget about all my problems, all the wounds, and my unhappiness. When I dance, it's like all my concerns are off, no matter who says what. I'm putting everything on airplane mode, and I'm as free as a bird in the sky, getting as high as them. It took me a long time to accomplish my dream, but it was worth it. I think nothing happens by chance; we need to have patience. Therefore, today is the last day of my tennis career and my official first day as a dancer. Once again, thank you, my beloved consciousness. I owe you my legs and not my life because my life means nothing without them."
He bows for good seconds under everyone's loud clapping and cheering. I can't hold back my tears, which are not rolling down my cheeks, ruining my mascara. Hobi gets off the stage, and with big steps, he comes my way, hugging me so tight that I hear some ribs cracking.
"Oh, no, don't cry," he cups my face, wiping the tears away with his thumb, "This was supposed to be a happy moment. It was a thank you, Faye. You saved me."
"I am crying because I am happy. These are happy tears. You made it all cheesy and emotional. How can I not cry?" I try to say between my sobbing.
"Come on, beautiful. Let's get you another glass of champagne. Otherwise, you'll transform the room into a swimming pool." Jungkook grabs my arm, pulling me to the bar with Hobi leading the way.
We down a few glasses of alcohol and discuss Hobi's new plans. Apparently, he took a giant leap of faith with this decision, surprising everyone. No one knew about him giving up on his sportsman career, not even Jimin or Jungkook.
Hobi said he constantly thought about it, especially when he was going to the training, and it felt like something was wrong. One night, he called his mother to pour his heart out and told her his concerns, and when she gave him her blessing, he immediately knew what he had to do.
He stayed quiet, fighting the urge to share his happiness to surprise us later. And he did an excellent job. Not even for a split second did I think he would quit tennis. Of course, I imagined he would keep dancing, but as a hobby.
I am so happy that words cannot describe it. All I ever wish for my sunshine is always to glow and be surrounded by love and joy.
We have been so caught up in our conversation that I failed to notice where Jungkook and Jimin went.
After finishing the delicious meal they prepared for us, I take out the pack of cigarettes from my clutch and go outside for a smoke. The night is magical, a warm breeze covering my heated skin as I come closer to the balcony to admire the view.
I light my cigarette and inhale the first puff when from the corner of my eyes, I see a silhouette on my right side. I turn my head and meet Yoongi's eyes, awkwardly examining me as he smokes.
Great.
He seems a bit standoffish, and his gaze is menacing as if he's ready to jaunt through Chernobyl, but I try to tame the beast with a kind smile.
"Look what the cat dragged back. F to the A to the Y to the E, but you don't pronounce the E, so what's the fucking point of having it in your name?" he laughs noisily, letting his head fall.
Someone got drunk. Maybe he won't be such an asshole while intoxicated.
"Good evening to you too. Are you having fun?" I struggle to find a good topic, but nothing comes to my mind.
"I had until I saw you here."
Okay, never mind. He is still an asshole.
"What's your fucking problem? Why are you always so mean?" I tighten my cigarette grip so I won't shove it down his throat.
"I don't pussyfoot around people I don't like. You may have gained Jimin's and Jungkook's sympathy, but it won't work with me."
"Trust me, Yoongi. I honestly couldn't care less if you liked me or not because lions don't lose sleep over the opinions of sheep. It's a matter of education and good manners not being a dickhead with people you don't know."
"In theory, yes. The reality is far more grueling. Dear, let me tell you something about Jungkook." I shift my gaze to his face, unable to contain my curiosity, "Jungkook does not do vanilla relationships. He's everywhere and nowhere. He does not make love. He does not love. He's everything but committed to one woman. He's been back and forth with Jessi for years. Do you have the impression you can change who he is? Then you're dumber than I thought. Any woman is just a notch on his belt, and you won't be anything more than that. So do both of us a favor and find your way out of his life."
He throws his cigarette in the ashtray, leaving me fumed with anger.
What the hell does he know about Jungkook and me? What the hell does he know about Jungkook's feelings about me? He is not in Jungkook's head nor in his heart to speak so freely about this shit.
I don't want to let him get to me, but it hurts like hell to think that there might be an ounce of truth in his words. Whatever grudge he holds against me better have a reasonable basis. If not, he's freaking frustrated, and I should not care about his opinion on our relationship.
I throw away my cigarette and go inside to look for Jungkook.
All the paranoia Yoongi installed makes me extremely mad, and I don't want to start a fight with Jungkook about what his friend told me. I just want to kiss him and have him holding me so I can take my mind off it.
Most of the people had already left, so it would be easier for me to spot him, unless it's not, because wherever I look, he's nowhere to be found. I exist the ballroom, clutching my dress so that I won't step on it, marching on the long corridor to find the restroom.
From an empty room at the end of the hallway, I hear Jungkook's voice echoing strongly, and I rush there with hurried steps. Once I open the double doors, I stare blankly at him with a tight expression, unable the process what's happening.
Suddenly, I begin to panic, my chest tightening as my breaths become quicker, suffocating my speaking ability. I wish I never opened the doors to see Jessi unbuckling Jungkook's belt, his shirt slightly open as her hands won't leave his body.
I fight back the wave of anxiety rolling through my chest, nerves stirring in my belly, twisting my stomach into knots, and I get out as fast as possible, holding up my tears.
"Faye, wait," he yells behind me, but this time I won't stop.
I am so damn naïve I can laugh at my own stupidity. Yoongi was right all along. Freaking Yoongi was right. Why would I ever think Jungkook cares? Now it's no longer a figment of my imagination because I saw everything with my eyes.
Congratulations, Jungkook. You freaking tore my heart apart. That was a hell of a surprise you had for me.
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Next, on 25 - Airplane, pt. 2 (JK):
"Hyung, you know I can't do that anymore."
"Is it because of your new sexcapade?" he levels me with his eyes.
"She's not a sexcapade," I muffle my words out, "I have feelings for her."
He stares at me without saying anything. This conversation has now hit an all-time high in awkwardness. Not only that I don't talk about my feelings, but it's weird to talk about my feelings for Faye with him before I do with her.