ONE ROCKSTAR PER ROOM

26. luna

Three days pass. We're still in one room. And we're passing by each other in silence. Every time I want to talk to him, I can't bring myself to. For what I did and said. My throat twists until I'm walking in the other direction. When I smoke, he doesn't. When I'm on the bed, he spends an hour in the bathroom. He goes to sleep before or after me. Like he's accepted what I told him - we can't do anything about it, because three years ago I chose Yoongi.

I don't know if I deserve him after all of this. I can't move through the guilt yet. Not only for this decision, but for each and every one of them in the past three years. I kept hurting him, unintentionally, because I was convinced Yoongi was the victim, and he still loved me through it.

I shouldn't do it, I text Taehyung for the fourth time.

Don't get in your head trying to explain both sides by yourself. Talk to him, he texts back, for the fourth time.

On Sunday night, we end up in bed at the same time, awake, watching Spiderman. That's all we do. I try to talk, I prepare the entire speech in my head three times, each seemingly worse than the previous version. Before I get to be brave, he's asleep. I use the built-up confidence to hold his hand for a moment. It's so much better than what was between us before. No one amounts to him, honestly. Definitely not Yoongi. I'm glad it all worked out for him, but I can't help a bit of regret he's not a part of my band.

Monday. Last practice before the Rock Out on Wednesday.

Like the schedule doesn't exist anymore, we go to practice at 10. Sound of Selene at 11. And we're all stuck in the room together. I can't find it in myself to fight, so I agree to whatever practice hours they want. I don't really care about it anymore. The idea of Rock Out was more exciting when I actually convinced myself I don't like Jungkook and want to be away from him for a whole year.

If we lose, I don't know how I'm going to go back home. Everything could be the same, or everything could change. I can go back to my lonely life, desperately chasing control and power. Hook ups, slumber parties. Because that's why I do them. I feel powerless with feelings, with giving and taking, so I try to distribute it myself, how I want it to be. And it's a bunch of shit.

I don't want it anymore. I'm tired of what I thought to be love. I know friendly love, even if I've never paid too much attention to it. That too I regret. If I've put more focus on Taehyung, and the fact that we have always loved each other like siblings, and less focus on the give and take crap I've created in my head, I'd know that love is a bunch of things you do, but not that crap I thought. Not only holding hands and kissing. It's about acts, but also words, and presence, and feelings. Of trust, joy, acceptance. Love isn't only romantic, either. And just because two people, out of seven billion in the world, didn't love me well, doesn't mean no one could.

Today, I tune out everything that isn't our performance for the sake of my inner peace.

"Do we have everything settled?" I ask, going through the note on my phone. "Performances, outfits, Plan C, Blood and Bones and Taehyung's solo." A sheet of paper slides in front of me. I look up at Yoongi. "What is it?"

"I told you we're not gonna play that second song." He thrusts what I suppose is a new song into my face. "We'll do this one instead."

"You're fucking crazy." I scoff. "We've got two days. How the fuck we're supposed to learn a song in two days when we practiced two for months?"

"I don't give a fuck, Luna. This is what we're gonna play," he says. The room is silent again, everyone watching. Of course they are.

I blink. "No. No, for fuck's sake, no. I told you this song is important to me, and we are playing it."