7/16/18
It's been a week. Now, I bet you're wondering, it's been a week since what? It's been a week since I kissed Park Jimin and a week since we last spoke. That's the bit that's concerning me the most at the moment. It's not like he's busy or hasn't left his house in ages. In fact, he went out to get groceries a few days ago and I waved or at least tried to talk to him and he appeared to ignore me. Maybe he didn't hear me? That's what I hope at least. You see, I've been able to remember the kiss perfectly, and not just because I've read the journal log a bunch. The moments surrounding the kiss are perfectly imprinted in my brain. I can remember the warmth and texture of his lips. I can remember his chapsticks taste. I can remember our smiles afterwards, like nothing could tear apart that moment. Was I wrong when I assumed he returned my feelings? Did he just stay around to not upset me? Did I make him that uncomfortable that he can't see past that and would prefer to not speak again? I hope not. Please let that not be it, Park Jimin.
The hand Yoongi was using to write with was shaking lightly as he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't stop remembering the kiss. He knew he should be happy about that. It was the moment he wanted to remember most of all, however it terrified him. It was a brand new experience remembering something so clearly while having a memory disorder like his. He was scared that he'd be stuck remembering something only to have the other person involved hate him. He had expected that Jimin might not return his feelings but he was sure that the younger would be able to look past it and still be his friend at least. However, a week had gone by and Jimin still hadn't spoken to him. He'd tried speaking to him when the younger had left the house for groceries, but Jimin just looked at him and then back at his house, not responding to the shouts. Yoongi stared at his phone which set next to him. Should he call Jimin? Would that seem too pushy? Would it repulse Jimin further? Screw it, Yoongi thought. He scooped up his phone and went to his contacts. He placed the phone close to his ear and nervously listened to the line ringing.
"Hello?" Jimin's voice sounded wary after it crackled in.
"Jimin." Yoongi said almost quietly, his fingers fiddling with the stem of a very young Viburnum tinus. "Jimin, I'm really sorry if I upset you. I-I understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore. I wouldn't want to talk to me anymore either. B-But I want you to rethink that or at least give me a second chance. It won't happen again if you don't want it to. I really think we could move past it if you did give me a second chance."
The line sat quiet. "Yoongi?" Jimin murmured.
"Yeah?"
Jimin took a shattered breath, "Yoongi, please don't call me again."
"Jim-" The call ended.
Yoongi sank a little in his seat. The wall his eyes had built up to not cry crashed down, his tears rolling down his cheeks numbly. Yoongi felt like someone had stabbed him in more than just his heart. His muscles felt weak and tense all at the same time while his head felt empty and light. It was high school all over again. He screwed up, again. He got hurt, again. It's his fault, again.
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
Why would he love me?
Why would he love me?
Why would he love me?
Why would he love me?
Why would he love me?
Why would he love me?
B̷u̷t̷ ̷I̷ ̷l̷o̷v̷e̷ ̷h̷i̷m̷
Word Count: 706