[31]: The Fire

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"Well, you're wrong. I absolutely do."

"Are you sure about that?" his eyes are two obsidian knives, and they're slicing right through your chest. He's grinning and you wish you didn't know why. "You really hate me?"

You bite your lip as you know it quivers when you lie.

"Yeah. Obviously."

But he's too close. He's dangerously close, now. You can smell his cologne, and the menthol cigarettes he's been smoking all morning. You can even smell his shampoo, he's that close. And his skin is smiling at you more than he is. His skin is fair without being pale and it's saying come here, Y/N, touch me.

You wish you could without consequence. Without repercussions, without reality.

You wish you could touch him without touching him.

Why is he still getting closer!?

"Is it even possible," he says quietly, pausing to take in your face. To sip and drink and chug every inch of you as if he's starving. "That you don't feel this thing between us?"

You gulp.

"What thing? I need you to be specific."

"I don't know, this?" His hands don't know where to land, but they know where they want to. "Something that feels good."

You can't admit it. You don't even know what you really think right now, so how could you possibly come clean or argue for any matter? The truth was, that you couldn't. You couldn't admit it, not to him, and not to yourself. So instead, you shake your head and try your best to ignore the tension between you.

Despite how loud it is.

"I think you and I have a different perception of good, Jungkook." you say, your eyebrows low-set. "What's between us is on fire. It's dark and angry and it wants chaos. No part of that sounds good, to me."

"So what you're saying, is that our kiss," he nearly whispers, and the word sends a chill down your spine. A chill that hurts. "Was angry and ugly and chaotic, and nothing good at all."

Oh, God.

Suddenly, you're a legless flesh-sac out a sea and you're sinking. You're a bucket of butane fluid and Jungkook is a match. You're burning and drowning all at once.

The kiss.

You had completely forgotten.

"Because that's not what it seemed like."

You gulp loud enough for him to hear.

"But I definitely can't deny that fire, you claim." 

Yes. There's a fire between you. That's what it is.

For the first year of knowing each other, it had been a small little dancing flame. Not much more than a spark, really. And it was always in danger, as a soft breeze would have been enough to extinguish it.

But now?

Now that fire was a raging inferno swallowing neighbourhoods and warping realities and turning oceans to ash.

The fire was out of control.

Your eyes are skippy. You look to the floor. Suddenly, it's the most interesting floor you'd ever seen. Your focus wavers as you start to sift through that night with a whole books' worth of new information.

You had forgotten about that kiss until now? How is that even possible?

It feels like flicking through a slideshow as you focus on the memories. It's so bizarre to see yourself in the clips, having forgotten about it entirely up until this point.

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