"I can't fucking breathe without you, Faye. You mean everything to me."
Why does this sound better than I love you? It took me this long to realize that he was serious. Now that I look at him, I understand. The never-ending saga between us and the h...
A/N: Please excuse my translations, I used google translate. If any of you happens to actually speak Korean, I could use some help.
Also, you're no fun for rejecting my interesting super funky fresh plot twist...
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Faye
What happens in our brain when we die is a question that mostly has hypothetical answers since it's extremely difficult to assess the event with 100% precision. However, neuroscientists have recorded certain activities of a dying human brain and discovered the same rhythmic wave patterns as when you dream, recall, or meditate.
It is suggested that during death, a vivid life recall is experienced, imagining your entire life in the space of seconds, like a flash of lightning. Just like the one I saw before I closed my eyes.
Or, to put it in different words because I am a proud cinephile, a trailer of your life is played with the best and worst moments right before you pass away. Years ago, when I had my car accident, I had no trailer, nothing.
No flashback, no scenario, no good or bad moments. I simply woke up in a hospital with plenty of tubes and small hoses connecting me to medical equipment. And now... I see pitch black.
I closed my eyes and expected the worst when Jungkook lost control of the car, my mind like a guillotine only processing the squeezing sound of the tires on the wet boulevard. But there is no impact, no crush, no pain.
With chronic fear running through my veins, I open my eyes and witness Jungkook, with the skills of a formula one driver, managing to keep the car on the road, stopping the chaotic drifts.
My mind and mouth are in no coordination, unable to produce any sounds or words, and all I can do is hold the car's door as if my life is at its mercy. I am too scared to move, afraid that any complaint or cry may diminish his attention, so I swallow my whines and wait.
Once the car is repositioned in its lane, Jungkook slows down but does not turn off the engine.
"I'm going to fucking kill them," he murmurs quietly, but I hear him.
Trying to stop the car completely, his intention is interrupted by the second party who moves parallel to us, beckoning Jungkook with a finger. I was wrong. They are not random drunk kids who wanted to showboat.
They know who Jungkook is, and there is no coincidence they tried to scare us. Or hurt us.
