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This part of the fic contains angst and possible sexual content. Do not proceed if you are a minor and don't like the above mentioned content
Violet leans against the elevator mirror and shuts her eyes in an attempt to drive away the heavy weight on her eyes. She came straight from work, her white shirt which was tucked in the morning is puffed up at the waist and the laptop bag hangs down her shoulder. She opens her eyes when the elevator bells dings and walks out towards the room, swipes the key and shuts the door before walking in.
The room is quite neat and big. Not very luxurious but rich enough. She sits on the bed and looks through the sparkling night view of the city through her window. It reminds her of the first time they met.
On a cold winter night, when the city was super alive. She was only seventeen.
"Coffee? Seriously?" Her friend raises her brows and turns away shaking her head.
"This is the only way I will not fall asleep in my shift today," Violet takes a sip and huffs, sending a cloud of fog in the air.
"Ya whatever," her friend's voice fades away as she slows down to take another sip.
Was it fate? Was it destiny? She doesn't know. She slips on the ice but before she falls face flat on the sidewalk, a hand comes to hold her. The defense reflexes didn't really help her in holding the coffee cup properly and so the coffee spilled pretty much everywhere including his gray coat staining it.
Her mouth opens to thank him but her eyes catch the stain and she blurts out "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"
All he does is give her a side smile and walk away.
One memory leads to another and she thinks about their second meeting after almost a year. It was new years eve and she was walking home after the party. Slightly drunk and scared because of the drunk guys that have been following her since the moment she got down from the bus. She prays to God that she makes it home safe. She fastens the pace of her walking and is startled when a person much taller than her blocks her way.
"Baby, I've been waiting for you," he whines, pushing his hood away from his head.
"Play along," he whispers.
"I couldn't get the bus," she tries her best not to stutter.
"Well, at least you are here now," he pinches her cheeks. She freezes. The tip of her nose shines under the dim street light because of the unnecessary amount of moisturizer she put on her face.
"They are gone," he says, looking behind her, who is still shaking. "I can walk you home if you want," he says, seeing the state she is in. She looks up at him with glistening eyes taking him by surprise.
That was the first time they learned each other's names. That was the first night they knew, they were meant for each other.
She falls back on the bed not wanting to think about anymore of their past. But the mind is a bitch which takes you on memory trips when you don't want to.
This time, the memory train stops at their first make out session. It was uncomfortable but hot. He was so hot that day. So fucking hot.
It was exciting because he secretly stole his dad's mustang and drove her to the beach. They weren't planning on going naked in the back seat of the car but something about that night was magical. He looked so good that day and the sea was calm, soothing and sensual.
She thinks it's just one of those intense kisses when he rubs his hand on her thigh. She thinks it's just okay when his hand slips under her shirt and squeezes her breast. She doesn't give a damn about anything else in the world when they jump to the back seat and make love in the car, on the beach where the ocean waves kiss the shore every time he thrusts inside her. He is rough but passionate, trying hard to tell her how much he loves her in a language that goes beyond words. A language of love making.
She springs up on the bed, rubs her temples and slaps her head because it's only making her feel things she doesn't want to. She takes control this time and thinks about the night.
The night where it all came to an end.
It started with a silly fight, like any other couples. Was it the harsh words that she used or was it his temper that made him step out of line? It doesn't even matter anymore because it bruised, broke and wrecked their relationship beyond repair. If only, if only they sat and talked that night. If only.
She stormed out of his apartment, not even bothering to take a coat. She walks towards the nearest bus stop not minding the specks of snow landing on the ground and on her. It got chilly and her body was begging for warmth. She turned around expectantly when she heard someone running from behind, hoping it was him. Disappointment and sadness engulf her when it was just a random stranger.
Sobs rumbled up her throat and tears wet her pink cheeks as she stood in the snow, wondering where it all went wrong.
When she came back to her apartment, wet and cold, she went straight into the shower in an attempt to wash away the events of the night.
The night passes away as her favourite song plays on the vinyl cassette playing the same song over and over again.
He never came for her nor did she go after him. They ended it, over a fight they would have laughed over if they were together today.
But isn't it strange that they made a pact to spend a day once a year, pretending they are still together. Make love locked in a hotel room before walking away from each other until they meet again.
The train of her thoughts are interrupted when the door knob turns and a familiar figure walks in. It's surprising how a year can change a person a lot. He is much more muscular than he was a year ago and much handsome than he has ever been.
"Hey," his sweet voice greets her.
"Hey, Jungkook," she greets back equally sweetly.
Or they just pretend to be sweet?
To be continued...
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