𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 ✓

⊘ • ❷ʘ • ⊘

𓆩・༺ ꔫ ༻・𓆪

The room begins spinning in seconds. My immense fear of heights grows from imagining the moment. Now, all I can think about is how something will go wrong. I'll jump too soon, the parachute won't open, or I'll accidentally fall off the building without the parachute attached to me.

So many horrible scenarios rush through my head that I don't even realize Barbie had been calling my name until she snaps her fingers in front of my face.

"I've said your name eight times, girl. Are you good?"

Am I good? No, I'm not good. I'm far from good.

I walk away from her, fingertips pressed against my temples while soothing the major headache that's starting to form.

I'm not upset with her for telling me, but I am pissed with myself because I know I'm going to worry the whole way there until it's over—if I survive the jump, that is.

People do stunts like these all the time. Jungkook must know what to do, or else he wouldn't plan to do something so risky as this.

I let that one thought stay in my head, hoping it will help the negativity.

"Vee, I know this is a lot for you to take in right now, but please know that I only told you to help. I'm sorry for saying it, but imagine if you panic when you're on the top floor." She tries to calm me down.

"I wanted to know, Barbie. I asked, so if anyone should be upset, it's me. I think you're right though. Maybe knowing this will be better?" I stop talking, and the room fills with a tightness in the air.

It's as if we both don't know what to say to make the other feel better about the situation.

With my clown makeup still on and outfit ready, I silently leave the room but give a reassuring smile her way before I go. It must not be that convincing because, when I leave, she's still frowning.

As I shut the door, I release a breath when the doorknob clicks against my palm. I take a moment and then walk away.

I walk downstairs to Jungkook, nodding my head slowly as I make my way to him.

Despite the few people surrounding him, I still speak my mind. All I can think about is forcing fear out of my body, so I settle with frustration instead.

"Why did you pick me? Because you knew I had a fear of heights? Because you want to watch me panic? Because you hate me?" I can't stop the coldness in my tone as I walk up to him, pushing past people. "Why the fuck do you get to give me orders?" I push my index finger into his chest, narrowing my eyes when looking up at his clown-like makeup.

No one can blame me for acting this way, especially because he knows about my fear. I don't know if he's doing it to torment me or what, but to make someone do something like this, especially if they have a phobia, is messed up.

Although I expect him to yell at me, which I was well-prepared for, he instead bends down and picks up a black bag while slinging it over his right shoulder.

"Took you long enough to get ready, Bee. Let's get going," he says, grabbing another bag while throwing it at me, which thankfully I catch right in time before it knocks me down.