TIME AFTER TIME ; jjk

35

Chapter 35

PARK SOOHYUN

"I hope you don't like me less now," Jungkook mumbled, sounding like it hurt him to say that but he needed to. A sudden bitterness slithered in my throat, making me want to ask, how could you say that? How could you even think of that? I couldn't understand what was happening, but I was there. I was there and I wasn't leaving. And I liked him more than anything else even if it was hard to have a grasp on things between us. Jungkook leaned into the crook of my neck again as if I'd fade if he loosened his touch just a bit.

"I like you even more," I said, hoping he knew how much I meant that.

Silence stretched out after that, and it was starting to feel a lot like a suspension of fear. When he pulled back, he refused to look me in the eyes, his gaze falling to the ground. I wished he'd glance at me and tell me something that was bothering him, to make me understand, to give me anything that he could, but I also wanted him to take his time, always, always. I'm still here.

"Do you still want to go to the store?" he asked, finally looking at me even if he couldn't exactly hold my gaze.

I shrugged. "Only if you want to—"

"I mean, we could— You need to sober up."

"I'm not drunk. Do you want to go home?"

A frown took over Jungkook's face. "This isn't about what I want."

"You look like you need to rest. I know you've had a long day."

His lips parted to say something but still held it back, leaving me wondering what it could have been, and then later told me after heaving a sigh, "I'm sorry I ruined the night."

Shaking my head, I had the urge to reach for his hand but I stopped myself, noticing that he seemed like he'd be easily repulsed by anything I'd do that time. I said, my voice softer, "I hope you'll stop apologizing."

It might've not been the right thing to say, apparently.

"I'll apologize when I need to."

"I know. I know, alright? But you have nothing to be sorry for now."

He made a nod, but there was something fierce in his eyes that I couldn't tell where was coming from, something that could be frustration about not being able to tell what he wanted to, what he didn't want to. It got more tense when he was quiet for another minute, and then, "I stopped going to therapy," he suddenly announced, his voice sharper, almost gruffly if I heard it more correctly. I gave him a look and he was already watching me as if he was trying to examine my reaction, his eyes keen and searching.

I set my mouth in a firm line, giving myself a few minutes to process what he said. He stopped going to therapy. Okay. That was probably what he wanted. "But, why?" I asked him.

He chuckled. "I don't think it was working."

I thought about what I'd answer, and maybe I could tell him something he wanted to hear, but it was still a bit puzzling to me. I thought it had been going just fine. "You said that it can be a long process. It wouldn't automatically fix anything." I held my hands together for warmth.

"Yeah, I know. But I'm sick of it. I don't have much patience for it. I am sick of coming every week to talk about my issues or whatever, forcing myself to listen to things that could help me."

My heart kicked. I focused my eyes just on him, staring hard and studying his little movements. I still couldn't get it, but I was there.

"Do you think maybe you just need a change of therapist? Find someone else that'll handle it better."