You tensed in your position as Jimin walked into the kitchen, chest still bare, pants loosely hung around his waist, yawning.
With a brisk, businesslike efficiency, you placed the toast and omelettes on the two plates already on the table, and slid out a chair, sitting down with the air of a CEO.
A spring seemed to have coiled in your stomach lately, making all your movements rigid and uptight, not letting you flow freely. The last time you (half) remembered being fluid was that night, with Jimin. It wasn't the way you wanted to remember it, but you did. Usually, you would have tried to push away the memory, and that of Jimin's pained expression after, but you thought of it often just to punish yourself. Like a knife you constantly stabbed into your own heart, to hurt yourself over and over, in a pitiful attempt to loosen the guilt that stuck to you like superglue.
This was the the skin you were comfortable in, the behavior you were used to, the person you had been all your life before it fell to pieces.
This was you.
Or at least, it had been. Once upon a time.
Jimin did a double-take, eyes widening almost comically. This was the first time he had seen you behave close to normally in a long time, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed behave.
So, naturally, he reverted to his first line of defence. "Did your backup food supplied finally grow mold?"
You sat down on the chair staring at him, not having expected him to speak to you, and in the same way as he always did. Maybe he really was fine. "I was afraid you were going to grow it, and came out just to make sure you weren't infecting the house."
"You're so funny."
"Yet another quality you wish you had."
The banter was almost normal for the two of you, but it sounded strained. Even Jimin's carefree voice was tensed and wound-up, like a clockwork toy.
"You're being defensive," e said in a teasing, sing-song voice, sitting down on the chair opposite you.
"And you're being an ass.," you snapped. And immediately regretted it. Slowly, you let your eyes close, and put your head into your hands.
His face softened as he leaned forward, prying the salt shaker from your fingers when you aggressively decided to salt your coffee. "Is this about me ignoring you?" He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted this; me gone from your perfect life."
"It's pretty amazing if you think my life is still perfect." You laughed bitterly, blinking hard.
"Okay, I'm sorry I said that." Jimin's jaw worked as he tried to look away from your slightly glistening eyes. "I'm sorry. Fine? Fuck."
This was a mistake, you thought painfully, wishing you could turn back time and convince yourself not to step out of the safety of your room. "Great," you said with a wisp of a voice, removing your hands from your head and straightening. "You know, it would have been easier if you hadn't been my roommate."
He looked at you sadly, noticing how the new lines around your mouth curved when you spoke and how your posture was so straight and how you didn't like laughing anymore. "But it isn't easy, is it?" he asked darkly. "It's not easy that I'm your roommate and know which shoe you put on first, and how you like your cereal, and the fact that your clothes are color-coded—"
"Jimin, stop."
"—and I wish I didn't know that you study late at night and wake up early anyway, and how you're so sleep-deprived the circles under your eyes are almost blue, and that you cry sometimes when you have nightmares, and—"
"Stop."
"—that you draw on your arms now, and write down things to remember because you keep on forgetting, and that you draw only with red marker and you don't fix things anymore, you just replace them—"
"Shut up," you said fervently, blinking back angry tears. You were feeling dizzy again, dizzy and sweaty, and you were trembling all over. "Shut the fuck up."
Jimin was solemn, pained, and sad all at the same time. "You're not okay."
I know that. You laughed spitefully, but the first of your tears spilled over your eyelashes. "What are you, my therapist?"
He didn't say anything, only leaned back against the chair and folded his arms over his chest. "You still have time," he said, gently. "We still have time."
"We ran out of that long ago," you answered, shaking your head. "We don't even eat together anymore."
"We did try that today."
"And look how that turned out."
"Okay, how about we do this?" He bit his lip hesitantly. "Movie night on Saturday? We won't watch The Notebook."
Your eyes flickered momentarily to him.
"Maybe."
|
Jungkook watched with careful eyes as the boy sat down opposite him, his arm draped over the table. He licked his lips as he faced him, a casual smile on his face as he nodded at him in acknowledgement.
"Why am I here?" Taehyung raised his eyebrows, setting down his wire-rim glasses on the table.
"To talk." His words were chipped and blunt.
"I thought you hated me." The dark-haired boy licked his lips as he leaned forward, something of curiosity seeping into his tone.
"Can't you feel it?" Jungkook asked abruptly, steepling his fingers, cocking an eyebrow. "Everything's changed. Ever since you did that to her, to him. You see it, don't you? Every one's changed."
Taehyung's eyes sharply flickered to his, jaw working under his still reddened skin. He could, he could sense it. And he didn't know what to make of it.
This system—this almost religion, this carefully built empire, was crashing down, coming to a stuttering halt, just because someone fell in love with his roommate.
Because someone fell in love and didn't know how to fix it.
"What are you trying to say?" Taehyung asked, his voice sharp and cold, like the blade of a knife. The last person he wanted to talk to was Jungkook, and it was saying something, since he didn't want to talk at all. "She's unimportant."
"Unimportant?" Jungkook scoffed. "She was the one who started this, and yet here you are, so bent on speaking of her as insignificant. It would almost sound like..." His eyes narrowed in the manner of a hunter stalking it's prey. "Like you're trying to convince yourself."
Taehyung's fingers intertwined, his clasped hands meeting the table with a bang. His knuckles were white, and so was the skin around his mouth.
"If she's so unimportant, why are you trying to fix her, Taehyung?" Jungkook questioned in the manner of an interrogator, leaning forward a bit in his seat. "Why are you trying to shoot yourself down?"
The ravenet's eyes hardened. "Bold words from someone who doesn't seem to have any idea of what he's talking about. I'm not interested in staying here any longer."
"Or are you?" The younger grinned carnally, a wicked undertone to his smile. "You're scared—of the fact that Jimin is going to take her, and you're scared of finally feeling guilty."
"I'm not guilty."
"Then why did you ask her to come to your house?" Jungkook countered, eyes icy. "Stop doing this. Stop hurting everyone around you just for petty feelings."
"These are not—" Taehyung began, standing up, voice tensed. He broke off, swallowing before exhaling slowly. "...petty feelings." He turned away, hiding the conflict in his eyes as he slipped on his sunglasses.
"You took the blame for something you didn't do," Jungkook said, shaking his head. "Why did you let yourself get caught, Taehyung? What the hell are you trying to do? I know it's not because you care about what I said."
"It's shouldn't concern you."
"Then why are you here?" It was a sharp question, countering and clever, but the intent was something much more profound. "Why aren't you running from her yet, Taehyung?"
Jungkook watched, calculating, as the other boy stepped out from behind the table.
"Goodbye," Taehyung said, simply.
"Is it because of what you did to Lee?"
The man froze. In the split second after the last syllable came forth, the tension around him spiked. Jungkook almost regretted speaking, but knew it wasn't a mistake. He wasn't here for Taehyung, and nor was he here for himself. He was here for something more than just petty feelings.
"I'm going to do what I want, Jeon Jungkook." Taehyung said coldly, shouldering his jacket. "And I sure as hell am going to get what I want, too."
He managed a sharp smile in his direction before walking away.