Jungkook p.o.v
Maybe this,
--
Swirls of poison swam through my bloodstream as I downed the third bottle of alcohol. The bar was unusually quiet today compared to the other days, but I didn't bother speculating for some type of reason.
My blue jeans were speckled with splotches of reds and blues from painting in my own deserted art studio. It wasn't well known and I only made enough money to set food on the table. But here I was, wasting money on drinks that were just an excuse for a slow, eventual death.
I told myself it was only because I led a miserable life, the slow cycle of constant disappointment and loneliness, but as I saw all the couples in the shadowed corners of the bar, my eyes teared at the abandonment which engulfed me.
Six months, it's been six months.
But I still couldn't erase the memories; those lips that kissed the searing parts of my body, those eyes that stared into me and reminded me of infinity, those arms that sent me into oblivion and turned me into a reckless figment.
Perhaps it was the image of his face that still haunted me, perhaps it was the tinkling of glasses clinking together all around me, I bit down my lip and calmed the raging emotions trapped in me.
I coughed hard into my glass and heard a light hearted laugh from behind me.
If I'd been sober, I'd have muttered a curse at the loud noise. But the numbing alcohol opened up my ears to the pretty sound.
I turned around to see a bright head of silver hair blocking the laughing male. I craned my head to peek more, but I lost my balance on the stool and fell face forward.
"Ah, fuck," I groaned in pain.
The bar was starting to spin and my throat ached with the need for water. My vision blurred and I heard footsteps rushing towards me, whispers of strangers being picked up by my pink tinged ears.
I saw the silver haired male bend down with another one. This one had black hair.
And then, I saw nothing.
》
I awoke to the sounds of beeping and hushed voices.
"Jeon Jungkook?"
I opened my eyes to the black haired male now dressed in a white lab coat. Fair skin covered a pristine bone structure and his high cheekbones were clearly visible as a smile spread across the apples of his cheeks.
He shuffled closer and sat down on the stool beside the bed, legs crossing over elegantly and fingers clutching a black pen, pressing smoothly against the clipboard. He looked at me and I avoided his gaze and focused on myself, looking down to see myself dressed in a hospital gown and felt myself wash over with fear.
I didn't need to look back at him to figure out he may know the lines scissored across my covered arms.
Instead, I stared at the name tag plastered onto his clean lab coat, pens lined neatly in his breast pocket, and read the printed words;
Dr. Park Jimin,
cardiothoracic surgeon.
The sound of scribbling stopped and he clicked the pen closed, placing it back in his breast pocket. His black hair bushed into his eyes as he leaned forward and inspected me under his protruding his eyes.
Cool fingers were pressed against my dry throat and I felt my Adam's apple bobbing up and down. His fingers felt around my skin a bit more before I felt a prick of pain, remembering the three bottles of alcohol I had downed.
I winced in slight pain, but felt more surprised at the careful touch being registered by my nerves.
Perhaps it was his presence that couldn't go unnoticed in the room as I stared at how vibrant he was.
Or maybe it was due to how perfect his features look, as if they were painted so delicately upon a canvas.
But I think it was more due to the hangover that my brain kept asking me ridiculous questions, but as I caught a whiff of his sweet cologne, I wondered with glazed eyes;
what colour is he?
--
is fate.
25/06/18;
republished --- i think it's unfair for you all to miss out on this jus cause i dont deem it well xx
