I managed to climb into Jin's car without getting hurt, courtesy of Kim Seokjin. Warmth filled my body as I threw myself into the soft cushion of his car. Jin asked for my address, but I guessed I didn't answer correctly since he asked again.
"I told you already," I whined, throwing my hands up, only to let them fall back down seconds after.
"You said something like alkfoifdfk," he said. "It's not even a real word."
I huffed, crossing my arms, but told him my address again.
He sighed. "Byul, do you know anyone who can tell me your address? You're not speaking right."
I pressed my forefinger to my chin, pursing my lips and narrowing my eyes. "I think," I said, "Yoongi knows. Or maybe he doesn't."
He dialed someone, only to earn a shout from the other line. Jin shouted back, something about my address and soon he started driving.
—❦—
I woke up to the sound of my phone. The room spins when I open my eyes and my head pounded to the loud ringtone. My arms search for the technology, lying somewhere on the coffee table beside my bed. It was empty.
My fingers traced the sheets of my bed while my eyes stayed closed to prevent more twists and turns. At last I found it, and it was under my pillow. I failed to take the call several times, fingers slipping on the glass surface of my phone.
"Hello?"
"Good morning, sleepy head," a male's voice that I fail to recognize said. "How are you?"
"Alive," I answered. "Who's this?"
"Jungkook," he said. "Are you okay? You were pretty drunk last night."
I hummed a response, turning on my bed to ease away the dizziness in my head. I pulled my blanket up to my neck, the warmth sending me back to sleep.
"Okay then," he said. "Wait! You are in your apartment, right?"
I opened a single eye, checking the walls and furniture across from me. Yup, that's definitely my desk and chair that I never use.
"Yes, Jungkook. I'm in my apartment."
"Okay then, goodbye."
I threw my phone to the other side of the bed, closing my eyes once more. I heard a small crash somewhere behind me, but I didn't take too much thought in it. My head spinned even when my eyes are closed and I'm lying down. The sensation made me bury my face deeper into the pillow, shutting my eyes tighter—if that is even possible.
Dealing with hangovers is never my thing; a reason why I rarely drink, with anyone. Besides, the stupidity while drunk is just an embarrassment for the next morning. I wouldn't want to deal with any of that. If Jungkook didn't call me this early, I wouldn't be feeling the dizziness now.
Wait.
What time is it?
I turned, flailing my arms in search of the phone I threw, only to find it lying on the floor. There was a tiny crack in the edge of the screen, just a tiny bit.
"Idiot," I scold myself, unlocking it.
January 1st, 2020 / 11.00
I breathed a sigh of relief.
It's January 1st. That means I'm not late for work.
The pounding came back once more, making me fall back to my bed, phone still in hand. I released it, afraid if I threw it, it'll crack again. Phones are expensive nowadays, and I can't afford to ruin one. Closing my eyes, I tried to send myself back to the land of dreams.
But then I found my bad breath, my puffy eyes, and the makeup I didn't wash last night. So I sat back up, and stretched. Gotta clean myself, right?
Ignoring the crazy vertigo, I limped to my bathroom. The shower lasted about an hour, long and peaceful. It was the best shower I had in ages, no thanks to the tight schedule and the constant run. By the time I finished, a thin fog and warm air filled the bathroom. The mirror was blurred with moisture, and I rubbed it off with my hand to see the reflection of my face. From inside my room, I could hear the ringing of my phone.
Did Jungkook call again?
I didn't think too much of it and took my time cleaning myself up. It's been so long since I had any time to myself, and I must say that it is relieving. I leaned closer to the mirror, examined my puffy and red eyes, as if I had been crying last night. But of course, drunk people can't remember things, and I can't. So, who cares anyway?
My phone rang three times before I finally looked it up, expecting Jungkook. What I got sent a frown.
"Jin?"
"Good morning," he said, his monotonous voice filling the speaker. "Are you okay?"
My frown deepened. "Yes?"
"Oh, that's great then. Have a nice—"
"Whoa, wait," I said. "Should I not be okay?"
He was silent for a beat. "I don't know actually," he answered, his voice a lot more strained than before. "You were crying last night."
I pursed my lips. "Why was I crying?"
"How should I know. I'm not the one crying." I could imagine him rolling his eyes with an annoyed look on his face. "Why don't you consult your memory?"
"I was drunk, dumbass." It was my turn to roll my eyes. "I can't remember."
"Do try, because I can't remember for you."
I bit my lips, the frown coming back. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"You, drunk. I drove you back to your apartment. End of story."
I rolled my eyes again. "I meant the part where I cried."
"Oh, that. Right." His voice softened and slowed. "You just started crying all of a sudden, and I thought you were sleeping."
"Anything else?"
"I don't think you would want—"
"Kim Seokjin, you don't tell me what I want." I said, pronouncing every word. "What happened?"
He sighed. "Fine," he said. "But, before that, who's he?"
"He?"
"Yes, Moon Byulyi," he answered. "You were talking about him last night when you cried."
I froze. My heart pounded in my chest and I could hear my blood rushing in my ears. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
"Byul?"
"He's—he's no one." I stammered. Closing my eyes, I took a deep, long breath. "What did I say?"
"Well, something like, he's not coming back. You can't bring him back, and stuff like that," he answered. "You were pretty drunk and I can't exactly understand what you're saying. Not to mention the crying."
"Did I say anything else?" The words came out faster than I expected, string together as if it's one, single word. My heartbeat did not subside.
"Uh, no," he answers. "Maybe you did, but I can't understand you." A beat. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't sound like you do."
"Yes, yes I am." I could hear my breathless voice, and I'm sure I'm not convincing. But anything is better than the question. Clearly, I'm not okay. But I'm not going to tell him that. That's just absurd.
"Okay then." He stressed on the 'o', dragging the other syllables. "Have a great day."
My hand trembled when I released the phone from my ear. I clasp my hands, rub them against each other, feeling the sweat building on the skin. The pounding stayed, turning my breathing into quick, short inhales. I closed my eyes.
"You're okay," I tell myself. "You're gonna be okay."
My voice trembled in each word I said. And the hangover didn't help.
I stood, making my way to pour myself a glass of water. I can't manage to walk straight and I had to hold onto things for support. My head swayed from the dizziness, and the water made me want to puke.
After a few glasses, my breathing calmed once more and I no longer trembled. The sweat on my palms were gone and my heartbeat normal. The spinning, not so much, but that's another issue.
My stomach grumbled, and I felt the emptiness. I found a leftover fried rice from two nights before, heated it up, and ate. It tasted like shit—probably because of the hangover and not the actual taste.
I ate slowly, because my sense of taste seems to be doormat right now. The rice was harder than normal, good rice, but I can't blame it. It's been inside the fridge for two days. It's basically my fault.
I threw away the paper box. The amount of garbage piling in the trash bin showed how much time I spent inside my apartment—barely any. It's empty, aside from the paper box I just threw and a few specks of dust.
I lied back down, staring at the plain, grey ceiling of my apartment. The paint used to be a shade of brighter white. Dust had piled and filled the whole surface, turning it into the ugly grey it is now, much like my life. What used to be happy days is now just a fragment of ugly events, all in grey.
My phone lay on the bed, devoid of any sound. I stared at it.
Should I call him? I'm sure he wouldn't mind, just like those days back then. I did experience something similar, and he used to help me get out of it. Maybe if I'd just talk, I'd feel better?
"Nah, you're fine," I said, shaking the thought out of my head.
—❦—
i had to disappoint you guys. i know some of you are waiting for more jinbyul interaction but this chapter is byul's. i'm sorry. it's coming. it's really close. i promise. there will be loads of jinbyul.
i'm getting comments saying they ship byul and yoongi more and i'm here to tell you that yoongi is no more. not completely gone, of course. he's not dead, don't worry.
the amount of comments in the last chapter is overwhelming, and i thank everyone for it. ALMOST AT 2K GUYS YAYYY!! wuv u.
till next wednesday,
-w.