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Why do you hate me?
Why do you hate me?
Why do you hate me?
Jeongguk's question rattles around my skull like tumbled rocks. Heat prickles my eyes as the memories threaten to come rushing back. The words are coming up, too — as they always do when I'm drunk. They're bubbling in my chest and rising to the surface until they threaten to spill out, out, out.
And like a switch being flipped, I succumb blindly to the rage.
It's almost as if I've lost control of myself. Liquid animosity leaks into my system, warring with the heat of my intoxication until it becomes an overwhelming, almost toxic feeling. My limbs begin to shake. My vision smears red. My lips are quivering, wordlessly mouthing the fury I feel into strings of incoherent sentences that I want to let out, out, out, Taehee, let them out.
I clamp my hand over my mouth.
I can't let them out.
My vision becomes blurry. I'm shaking. I can't breathe. I need air. I need outside. I need to get away. I need to get away from Jeongguk.
So I run.
"Taehee, no!"
But it's too late. By the time Jeongguk realizes what I'm doing, I'm already on my feet and bumbling drunkenly through the kitchen in the direction of the patio doors. In my panicked haste, I can't remember if they're push or pull. My arm strength has practically liquified as I try with all my might to open them. They still won't move. I still can't breathe.
I can feel Jeongguk's presence behind me, can feel the gentle hand he places on my shoulder. I shake it off. I start slamming my shoulder into the glass.
"Stop," Jeongguk commands. While he adhered to my wish of not being touched, he still shifts close to me and braces himself against the pane of glass. His gaze is dark. Confused. Dejected. "You're going to hurt yourself."
A harsh breath rattles around my chest, sounding empty and lonely. In an attempt to distract him, I blindly point my arm behind me and say, "Look! Over there! A bunny rabbit!"
He doesn't even flinch. "Nice try, Smooth Guy."
I slam my hand down on the doors, frustrated. The glass is cool against my forehead but the window to the outside is almost taunting. Just beneath my fingertips lies the expanse of grass, the blanket of stars, the vastness of the world. It's out of reach. I can't get to it. I'm trapped.
In one last bid to save myself, I turn to face Jeongguk. Stepping close, I fist his shirt and pull him towards me. He gasps, stumbling forward. Standing on my tippy toes, I make sure he's looking into my eyes. I make sure he can see my desperation.
"Please, Jeongguk," I whisper. My words are tangled. "Please let me go."
He hesitates a moment, searching my face. There's something sad in his, an almost forlorn longing. Then he's turning away and I'm filled with relief as he first twists the lock and pulls the doors open.
The sweet, muggy air is motivation enough. I lumber outside, tripping over my feet. The grass is wet between my toes. The space is open. I can breathe.
I don't make it that far. I'm halfway to the pool before my body gives out and I'm slumping to the ground. I sit in a heap, drunkenly swaying in place as I let the soft breeze wrap me in it's welcoming embrace.
Jeongguk joins me a while later. He sits a respectable distance away but still close enough that I could reach out and touch him. Silence washes over us, broken only by the sounds of outdoor life. While I stare blankly at the glistening water of the pool, Jeongguk tugs blades of grass from the earth and scatters them around him.
It's only now that he's here that I feel strangely calmer. I thought I needed to get away from him, but maybe what I needed was the opposite.
Jeongguk finally breaks the quiet with a question that has seemed to be eating him alive. "Are you... okay?"
I bob my head. "Mhm. Perfectly okay. A plus for okay-ness."
He sighs, shaking his head. "Taehee, I'm—"
I can sense the apology on the tip of his tongue. I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "Nope. No need. It's fine. All good. Gucci, even."
"But I need to say this."
The sheer conviction in his tone causes my head to snap up. The lights of the pool wash his face in a haze of shimmering blue, accentuating the dark circles under his eyes and the soft curve of his features. His gaze is fierce, steady.
"And I should've said this a long time ago."
His assuredness takes me aback. Wariness creeps up my throat. It drives me to try and make light of the situation. With a sigh, I scoot around so that I'm facing him, prop my elbows on my knees and cup my cheeks in my hands.
"Go ahead," I invite, tossing a forced smile. With my hands squeezing my cheeks, I'm sure it looks like I'm a marshmallow. Now I want marshmallows. "I'm all ears. But not really, though. I only have two ears. Also, do we have any marshmallows?"
This elicits a scoff from the boy and wins me a sense of reprieve. But much to my disappointment, it's short lived.
And I still don't have any marshmallows.
The atmosphere between us grows stagnant, heavy, suffocating. Jeongguk's lower lip is bitten raw, his brows are drawn tight, the gears in his head are churning. He pours over his thoughts, weighing them and seeming to choose which ones to voice with careful consideration.
But when he looks at me, his dark eyes speak volumes.
"Taehee, I don't know what I did wrong."
Every fibre in my being freezes. I stare back at him, so stunned that I have to remind myself to breathe.
Because however vague his statement was, I still know the intention behind it. I know exactly what he's talking about. And no matter how fast you run, it seems as if the past has a way of catching up with you. The memories are resurfacing again in a whirlwind of colour.
Jeongguk's gaze is piercing. "And I know it can't have been nothing, because one day we're best friends and the next you won't even speak to me. Hell, you won't even look at me."
The lingering air in my form comes rushing out in a gust. His voice is as hollow as I feel — a shelled out, cut up paper doll version of myself. My body feels light. Weightless. I struggle to keep the memories at bay.
"It's killing me, Taehee," Jeongguk breathes, his voice hovering mere decimals above a whisper. He searches my face. "It's killing me because I don't know how to talk to you or what to apologize for. And I've tried. I've tried so damn hard to get to you, but every time I think I'm getting close, you push me away again."
I blink furiously. "You don't understand."
"You're right. I don't. You always shut me out. Do you have any idea how infuriating that is?"
Jeongguk sneers as he rips a large chunk of grass from the ground. "But this time, it feels... different." He cocks his head, his eyes shadowed and warm and probing. "And I know you feel it, too."
Liar, liar, liar, liar, liar—
"I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting, of bickering, of everything. And I'm sorry. Whatever it is I did, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
When he pauses, it feels like an eternity.
And when he speaks, it feels like a dagger to my heart.
"I just want my best friend back."
Ink blots my vision. The world stops spinning on its axis as the mental dam in my head snaps. The memories spiral out, ensnaring me in their claws and overrunning all conscious thought until all I can do is remember.
I remember everything.
My chest pangs with each passing moment and it hurts. It hurts so bad that I want to scream and cry and hug him and push him away and forget everything — forget everything that happened because god, despite it all, despite what he did, despite all the pain and hurt and hate he caused me: I miss him.
I miss him.
At that, my resolve crumbles and the tears flow freely, cascading down my temples to form pools of moisture in the crooks of my shoulders. And I let them fall, like the shattered shards of my heart, crying for him, for all that he is, for all that he did.
For all that he did.
"Hey," Jeongguk calls softly. His features are pained. "Are you crying?"
When he reaches to brush away my tears I flinch back, almost like I've been burned.
"'Course not," I croak out, swiping at my wet cheeks with my own hands. "It's— It's the stars. They're really bright tonight. Should probably get them checked out by an astronaut or something."
It's dumb — such an astronomically dumb excuse that I know there's no possible way on earth that he could ever buy it. Hell, literally anyone could see my desperate attempt to draw my walls tight and block everything out.
But it's not just anyone — it's Jeongguk seeing me.
Though the stars (the real ones this time, not the bumps on the ceiling) are bright, his eyes are brighter, and from the way he's looking at me, I know he's not going to drop it.
My stomach still buzzes with heat, but the shock of adrenaline has chased away some of my intoxication. I stiffen, sitting back and bracing myself. I desperately work to conjure more stories and explanations in a bid to save myself.
But much to my surprise, Jeongguk shakes his head and averts his gaze.
He drops it.
"I'll make a mental note to call up NASA," he finally sighs, a defeated and distant feel to his words.
And it makes me feel like shit all over again.
How could he not know what he did? How could he not know? How could he go the entirety of his young adult life not knowing what almost destroyed me? What did destroy me?
How could he not realize that it was all his fault?
Because maybe it wasn't.
Maybe it wasn't his fault.
It's not his fault he's better than me. That I'm always going to come in second to him. That despite everything I do, despite everything I've done, I'm never going to be good enough.
Because really, where's the competition when you're going up against the golden boy?
The boy who's perfect in every way; who effortlessly succeeds in everything he tries; who's virtually and physically flawless.
The boy adored by parents who aren't even his own.
I thought that cutting him out would solve all my problems. That by turning my back on our friendship all those years ago, I'd eliminate the competition and everything would go back to how it used to be. That I'd be worthy, seen, noticed, better.
I remember he cried for weeks.
I didn't care.
I had already cried for years.
And I cried for the years to come.
It didn't do anything. Pushing him away only made me miserable — makes me miserable. I sabotaged myself by ridding my life of the one thing that made it better. I destroyed a friendship because I was too consumed with the need to prove myself superior to him; to force him down so I could come out on top.
And yet, despite everything I've done, he's still here.
He's still here for me.
Time and time again, he proves that I'll never be the person he is today.
And I realize then and there that I don't hate him.
I don't hate Jeon Jeongguk.
I hate the man who made me hate him.
The shock of it all is too much. It disorients my thoughts and consciousness until I'm certain I'm losing my mind. Gaps and holes appear in my memories, replaced instead by new perspectives and visions. The lines between reality and the product of my dejection become so blurred that I don't know what's what.
But I know now that I was wrong.
I've been misdirecting my hate and anger and envy at Jeongguk for years, all because he deemed me worthless next to my best friend. Because he granted me second place without even giving me a chance to compete. Because he thought I should have to compete in the first place.
Because he thought I wasn't good enough.
And he was the inciting force of my break from Jeongguk.
It was all his fault.
The tears are falling again. Thick and heavy. Salty and hot. They're fogging my eyesight. I can't see anything. I can't see him. I can't see Jeongguk. I can't see Jeongguk.
A sob escapes as I desperately flail my hand around, reaching for him. The space feels endless and void. It scares me. It feels like I'm losing him all over again and oh my god he's gone I've lost him.
His hand finds mine.
He says nothing as I cry. No jokes or teasing or snarky remarks. He only rubs circles against the back of my hand to let me know that he's here. And it only makes me feel worse because where was I when he needed me?
I don't know how I ended up sprawled on the ground. I don't know how Jeongguk ended up beside me, his face angled to the heavens. But I'm glad he did.
I cry until there's nothing left to cry — until my eyes are puffy and my throat is worn raw and my sobs have drained into sniffles and hiccups. But even then, the tears still leak out, as soundlessly as leaves falling on a forest's flourishing ground. And fall, they do.
When I'm finally able to think coherently in some fashion, I try my best to organize my muddied thoughts. But through the haze of it all, one thing becomes blindingly clear: I can't tell him the truth.
He doesn't need to know. He can't know. He can't know that for the greater part of my life, I blamed him for being successful and good and superior, and that because of it, I ruthlessly despised him. Because what kind of person would he see me as, then? Someone who seeks to tear down others just for their chance at glory?
Even if that's who I was, it's not the person I am now.
There's also still a part of me that doesn't want to open up just yet; a semi-sober, rational part of me that's not as quick to believe his story. Because despite it not being Jeongguk's fault, it still happened. And he can't change the fact that it did.
And it's that scared, hesitant part of me that's stopping me from letting go of the past.
So I don't tell him the truth.
Or rather, I don't tell him the majority of the truth.
"Y'know how," I start, my voice nearly breaking. I clear my throat. "How when, without being asked, you decide to go do the dishes?"
Jeongguk looks at me sideways, as if I've grown a third head. "Uh, sure. What about it?"
"And how just when you're on the way, your mom asks you to do them, and all of the sudden, you don't want to do them anymore?"
Jeongguk is silent as he mulls over my sorry excuse for an explanation. And yet though it's weak, it's not entirely false. With our mothers constantly around, pushing us to become friends again and go back to the way things had been, they only managed to have the opposite effect — they only accelerated my distancing.
"I think I get what you're saying," Jeongguk hums, though seeming slightly perplexed. "So — just to be clear, though — I'm the dishes in this situation?"
"Yeah, except I don't want to do you."
He laughs at that, and I find a watery smile tugging at my lips as well.
"So it was our moms, then?" Jeongguk asks, facing me once more. "They... it was them?"
I swallow down a wave of guilt and force myself to speak. "Yes, it was our moms."
"And that's it?"
"That's it."
"You promise?"
I thin my lips and look away. "Why do you hate me?"
Jeongguk snorts. "Are you seriously asking me that right now?"
"To be fair, you haven't exactly been all Mr. Nice Guy with me, either."
A childish giggle escapes before I can stop it. The effects of the alcohol — which had only been temporarily expelled from my system — are slowly starting to trickle back in now that I've shifted the attention off my shoulders. The delicious fire in my stomach is back, ebbing outwards and coiling through my veins until I feel that giddy sensation of happiness and fuzziness once more. It becomes harder to think but easier to speak.
"That's because I've had to fight fire with fire." Jeongguk shoots me a sidelong glance. "But I don't hate you, Taehee. I never have."
"Oh," I mumble dumbly. "Well, uh, cool beans, then."
"I mean, don't get me wrong." That irritatingly handsome smirk is back. "You're annoying, arrogant, stubborn as hell, the absolute worst pun maker I know—"
"You take that back—"
"A horrible partner in crime, terrible at Overwatch—"
"No, please, do go on. I love hearing how much I suck."
His glare mirrors my own in an unspoken challenge, and the feelings of competition and rivalry are all too familiar — they feel second nature at this point.
But then Jeongguk's lips are quirking up into a grin and I'm laughing, so hard that I'm propelled upwards and my hands are clutched around my stomach. Happy tears begin streaming down my cheeks as I drunkenly roll forward and back, struggling both to keep upright and force air into my lungs. It's been a while since I've laughed this hard. It feels good.
When I finally fall back, winded, Jeongguk is pulling a teasing face that's every bit as arrogant and dashing as they all are. "You have such a weird laugh."
"Such a gentleman," I wheeze, absentmindedly patting his face.
He groans, trying vainly to shift out of reach as I slap at his cheeks. "I have my moments — would you quit it?"
He grips my wrist and forces it away. It falls limp beside me, and I don't have enough energy to move it.
It's silent for a beat as I slow my breathing and gradually come back down to earth. Jeongguk's hand is still holding my other one; still drawing circles; still gripping tight.
"I miss you," he whispers, his eyes rounded and soft and honest.
My smile is a copy of his. "I miss you too, dickhead."
"Then let's restart."
"Restart?" I echo. "What do you mean restart?"
"Well," he starts as he gently releases my hand. With the warmth suddenly gone, my fingers feel bitter and cool. "Our moms aren't here. There's no pressure. We can just... restart."
My mouth falls open in awe. "Restart?"
"Yes, idiot, that's literally what I just said."
I blink once, twice, before it slowly dawns on me. A chance at a fresh start. A clean slate. No moms, no pressure, no competition, no nothing. Just Jeongguk and I. Like it was when we were younger.
"That doesn't sound completely horrible," I finally mutter, playing absentmindedly with my fingers.
"You say that with a discouraging amount of conviction," Jeongguk quips with a roll of his eyes. "But I'll take it."
He then extends his hand towards me in mid-air, almost like a handshake or an amicable greeting. I look at his hand like he just offered me a flamethrower, still confused as to what he wants me to do with it.
"Um..." Still uncertain, I hesitantly slap his hand in a sorry excuse of a high five before pumping my fist and cheering a half-hearted, "go friendship?"
Jeongguk remains of marble, eyes blown wide, mouth agape in a look akin to awe, before — much to my absolute bewilderment — he promptly explodes with laughter. With his face screwed in delight, cheeks pink and pearly whites on full display, his body convulses in on itself as he roars at my expense. It's the kind of laugh that makes you want to join in wholeheartedly, even if you don't know what's funny in the first place.
My cheeks blush a ripe cherry red. "Why are — Hey! Stop it! Stop laughing! — why are you — I'm serious! Stop it!"
It's more than a few moments before he's able to calm down, but even still, the glint in his eye tells me he isn't quite done with his teasing.
"Alright, class," he calls out, smoothing his hair back and pretending to straighten an invisible tie on his chest. Then, as if holding an invisible piece of chalk, he begins to write his name in mid-air, almost like he's scrawling on a chalkboard suspended flat above his head. "I'm your new professor, Jeon Jeongguk. And today we are going to learn the art of a handshake."
Oh. He was trying to shake my hand, not give me a high five.
"Now," Jeongguk drawls teasingly. "This concept may be unfamiliar to those of you who are less-civilized, or perhaps foreign to the theory of politeness—"
"Okay, okay," I growl. "I get it. You're just so funny, aren't you?"
He grins. "You think I'm funny?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"No."
His features fall in mock disappointment as he places a hand to his chest. "Be still, my heart."
Suddenly he's sitting up, so swiftly that it takes my brain a couple seconds to realize he's no longer sprawled on the grass beside me. His hands now reach for me, and, with my body as loose as a rag doll, I let him pull me up as well. Stars explode past my eyes as the blood rushes down from my head to the rest of my body, and it causes me to sway in place.
When I manage to blink the lights away, I notice that Jeongguk's hand is once again extended towards me.
"Let's try this again, yeah?"
Knowing what to expect this time around, I gingerly fit my hand in his. His hand is nearly twice the size of my own, resulting in the way his slender fingers curl around the entirety of my hand. His palm is warm and calloused.
"Hi," the ravenet greets as he begins to bob our interlocked hands. "My name's Jeongguk."
Realization sets in that by a 'restart', he meant the entirety of our relationship — including our first meeting. Something in my stomach stirs at the cuteness of it all, and I find myself involuntarily smiling.
"Nice to meet you, Jeongguk. I'm Taehee."
"I thought you were drunk."
My eyes flash, and in what is meant to be a playful warning, I tug harshly at his arm. However, my retaliation backfires astronomically and causes him to completely lose his balance. With a yelp, he surrenders control and comes crashing into me.
Damn it. Foiled again.
It feels like déjà-vu: the way his arms catch the blunt of his impact and now offer support as he overs over top of me; the feeling of his body pressed flush against my own; the sharp exhale that dusts my cheeks: the soft, dark fringe that brushes my brow.
The overwhelming smell of him.
Lemongrass. Vanilla. Jeongguk.
While he struggles to untangle himself, I remain unmoving in the grass, a goofy little smile on my face as his scent overwhelms me, filling my senses with a hazy feeling of elation.
"That certainly wasn't in my handshake lecture," Jeongguk grunts, shifting his weight off of me.
I almost whine in protest as he moves away, lifting himself on his hands and shifting to his knees so that he straddles me. I hadn't noticed how cold I'd been, but now that he's gone, I find myself craving his warmth.
Before I can stop myself, my arms are looping around his neck and I'm pulling him back down towards me. Stunned, his grip slackens and he complies, slamming back down on top of me with a hiss of curses. I hold him tight and bury my face into the crook of his neck.
Lemongrass. Vanilla. Jeongguk.
"Have I mentioned you smell really good?" I breathe. "Like really good."
Jeongguk chuckles and begins to try and pry my hands away from him. "You're giving me so much ammo it's not even funny."
"I'll have you know," I slur, struggling to maintain my grip, "that though I don't have one now, I'm currently thinking of a comeback. And I can assure you, it will be devastating."
"I'm sure it will."
Suddenly tired, I find it easy to give up. Jeongguk is able to slip away. But once he's moved away and rolled onto his back again, I press myself close, wrapping my arms around his torso and resting my head against his chest.
"Go away," Jeongguk groans, but I can hear the twinge of a smile in his voice.
"No."
"Fine."
I hadn't realized how tense he's been until his muscles tentatively flex and relax under my touch. He becomes as malleable as putty, so much so that I'm able to grab his hand and place it in my hair. He fights me at first, but I force him to move his hand so his fingers run through my hair. Soon enough, he does it without my help.
We lie in the grass together, silent for a while. It's nice. I haven't felt this calm in a while, and the feeling gives way to the pull of sleep. My eyes grow heavy, my breathing evens out, and my limbs gradually sag. I'm just about to lapse into dreamland when something drives me to shake my head, chasing away the effects of slumber nagging at my consciousness.
Because there's one question I haven't yet asked.
"Why didn't you drink tonight?"
"Someone had to keep you on track," he hums absentmindedly. The way he softly strokes my hair sends pleasant shivers down my spine. "Besides, I don't drink."
"Understandable. Beer sucks butt. Major butt."
He doesn't say anything — not in the sense that he doesn't have anything to say, but more so that he doesn't want to say what he has to say. I drop the matter with ease though, too exhausted to read between the lines.
"Hey," Jeongguk suddenly pops, seeming genuinely curious. "What's your favourite colour?"
"Why?"
"Because, Taehee, friends typically know these types of things about one another."
"Fine. Green, I think. Or maybe yellow. You?"
"Red."
"Red's a stupid colour."
"You're a stupid colour."
"That was mean."
He chuckles. "Favourite animal?"
It continues like this back and forth for some time. We trade meaningless questions and share pointless facts about ourselves late into the night, when the city's been tucked in by a blanket of stars and the only sounds for miles are our whispered words and the sounds of our breathing.
I learn so much about him, and yet, I learn nothing at all. His answers go in one ear and out the other, and no matter how much I try to hold on, they always slip out of my reach. The excess of alcohol still in my system and the promise of sleep both threaten to pull me under, no matter how much I struggle to stay awake. And I want to stay awake, listening as he tells me his favourite songs, his pet peeves and all the little insignificant details that make him into who he is today.
But too soon, I'm mouthing my answers without actually speaking and barely able to comprehend what he's saying. Against my will, I'm lulled into the realm of dreams and conjured realities.
Lemongrass. Vanilla. Jeongguk.
I fall asleep in his arms.
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heyoo guess who's back from the semi-dead haha!! im sorry this update took so long. it's both parts due to the fact that i had major writer's block, but also because of in light of what has been going on. and not just recently.
TW: r*pe
george floyd was murdered by a cop because he was accused of using a counterfeit 20$ bill. brock turner r*ped an unconscious girl behind a dumpster, received a jail sentence of 6 months but got off 3 months early because of his 'good behaviour'. white privilege and white supremacy exist: a consequence of a society rooted in a racist, prejudice and discriminatory system that has seen black people as the enemy from the start. it's sickening. it needs to stop.
please do anything you can to help this movement — this fight for the equality and justice of black people. keep signing petitions, spreading information, donating if you can and protesting the corrupt and racist police system. and don't just make it a today thing, but make it an everyday thing. once the protests have stopped, keep caring about black lives and keep showing support for the blm.
edited by sedetiam who is salivating at the thought of licking your feet
hugs and kisses,
sunny ☼