Dance to This [kth]

t w e n t y • n i n e [pt. 1]

ミ★
twenty-nine
part one
❝chemical developments❞
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The air is crisp, cold and chilling; my fingertips are frozen, my legs are stinging, and my face is burning with each confident stride I take farther and farther away from campus. The street blocks blend together as my adrenaline takes gear; my mind is running wildly along with my frantic movements to the basketball house, where I would presume Jungkook is hiding away. My texts and calls have gone unanswered for too long, and I am much too angry, to attempt distantly contacting him right now.

I don't care that I'm leaving Namjoon behind in the chapel. I don't care that I am fleeing from my father. I don't care because the darkest reality that I have been protecting all this time has now revealed small cracks— my relationship with Taehyung is now in a compromised position. . . waiting to be revealed to a bigger audience.

I can't have that. I won't allow it.

Namjoon can think he won for now. I will leave him to bask in his premature glory, thinking that he has me in his grasp. He will tell my father what he wants to hear while I'm gone because that's what a manipulator would do. I have figured him out. Joon thinks he played the ultimate blackmail against me to make me do what he wants, but as I near closer and closer to the basketball house, it's obvious that I am going to do whatever it takes to fix this. Permanently.

Knocking isn't an option when I show up at the Delta Chi house. The atmosphere is dissimilar to how it is at night during parties: calm, bright, spacious. Although that is true, the dirt and grime from blatant frat-boy behavior is evident in the dirty wood floor, sticky countertops and pungent smell of mystery odors when I swing the door open without a second thought.

The foyer is empty, so I journey around the corner. There are two guys sitting in the living room looking at me with widened eyes. They are drinking beers and watching a sports game; the sound of commentators travels throughout the house loudly. Both of them seem a little dazed— probably under the influence. I vaguely recognize them from the meetings.

The living room is not foreign to me. I blink away the memories I have in here. . . the couch, where one of them is sitting, is where Yoongi and I kissed. I can still feel the tingling against my lips, and the hot feeling I had in my gut while it was happening. This is also where Jungkook guided me in smoking for the first time.

I was a fool then. I'm not now.

I pull the plug from the television to stop it. My voice is the only sound that rings when I open my mouth.