Pose For Me | K.TH

29

TAEHYUNG

The room is dark.

And when I open my eyes again, Aila has fallen asleep. Her breathing has evened, dark, curled hair falling down the sides of her face.

She had cried— I knew. I knew how to tell apart the eyes of someone who'd cried from someone who hadn't been. I knew that she truly regretted what she had done tonight.

My eyes flicker close again as I shift off painfully from the edge of the bed.

But I....

What was wrong with me?

All I could think now when I looked at her pure, innocent face was how she was no longer mine.

I still hadn't forgotten, had I? After all this time.

I'd kept a part of that pain I'd felt from two years ago, when I'd first seen Rosalie in a different design than mine, posing for someone else.

The pain that I had felt then.

Now it's nearly early morning when I leave Aila's side, walking quietly towards the living room with my phone clutched loosely in one hand.

So eager to try and pull me down again.

Sinking down on the cold couch, I run my fingers through my hair as I look down at the photos of Aila he had already released.

Even in the designs of someone else, she looks ethereally beautiful.

With an agonized groan, I let the phone slip from my fingers and bury my face in a hand. This was what he wanted me to feel. He wanted me to feel this way, that he would always take everything I held close for himself.

Always.

I throw my head back on the curve of the couch. And the ceiling meets my gaze blankly before I close my eyes, fingertips pressing harder into the side of my head.

She is different.

She did not leave you, Kim Taehyung. She is here with you, isn't she?

But the photos of her come back to fill my mind no matter how hard I try to convince myself. Every time I tell myself that she had only ever wanted the best for me.

And I realize.

I was more broken than I thought, wasn't I?

I don't know. Not anymore.

I don't know.

________________________________

AILA

"Taehyung?"

Where...

He's not next to me when I wake up, even when it's his room. The house is completely quiet except for the sounds of my hushed footsteps.

And I find him in the living room, body slack against the couch. He's breathing heavier than usual, cheeks flushed red and sweat running down the sides of his face and neck.

From last night.

"Taehyung."

Pulling down my sleeves, I trace the line of his hair to his jaw. His skin is so hot— and I purse my lips.