Jungkook p.o.v
I accept,
--
The bass pounded throughout the club, drumming against my ears.
Like always, I stayed close to the walls, sparkling alcohol in one hand and the other stashed inside my jean's pocket.
The dark room illuminated by concealed bodies, swaying to the music bursting through the pounding speakers. I lifted the glass to my lips, allowing the bitter sweetness to numb the ever growing sparks of pain inside me.
I caught the redheaded boy slowly walking over to me, alcohol sloshing from his full glass onto his hands, seeing his smirk even in the dim lit room. His tall height looming over the bodies swaying everywhere beside him.
"Your glass seems too full, why aren't you drinking?" He asked when he reached me, smell of grief and masked hurt oozing from his leather jacket. No amount of alcohol could conceal the grief we both carried, of past friends and lovers.
Maybe when your laugh rang through my ears and laughter suddenly wasn't heard but felt instead, maybe it still wasn't love.
"I am not really up to drinking right now," I said as I pressed my back farther from the wall, music calling me to wake up.
"Ah your choice," he said as he drank his fourth glass of the liquid. My eyes travelled to the prick of tears that loosely flowed around his eyeballs, refusing to leave them. He quickly blinked them away and gave me a casual smile.
Maybe when we both stared at each other and our eyes spoke more than our mouths ever could, maybe it still wasn't love.
I closed my eyes and gently swayed my body to the music, pulling onto the strings of my heart, not calling, but begging me to come close. I immediately thought of the person who had once consumed all my pain and replaced it with glimmers of hope.
Bodies bumped into me and I let myself loose, not caring where I'd end up. An arm pushed me away and I stumbled back, waiting for my cheek to meet the drenched floor, but once again, strong arms caught me. I didn't need to open my eyes again to see who it would be, as much as I wished it was someone else, it was still Taehyung.
Maybe when you could give me back my heart that you've still kept with you because you could never give me yours, maybe it still wouldn't be love.
He perched me properly on my feet and still held onto my arm. His fingers travelled to my hand, placing fingers in between the yearning spaces of mine.
And he walked me closer to the centre of the club, where the music burst the loudest and the cries touched the saddest and the hearts bled the reddest.
Without letting go of my hand, he himself swayed to the music, urging me to follow the beat and lose myself even more. Because that's how it always was with Taehyung; he made me forget everything.
And in this moment, that's exactly what I wanted.
Or maybe, just maybe, I'd give it to you right back and tell you to keep it because just maybe, it still could be love.
So I held on to his hand,
wishing with everything that was left of me,
wishing so desperately,
it was Jimin's.
Yes, it's love.
》
Everyday, me and Taehyung would meet at this club, in the early mornings when it was 2 AM, in the late nights when it was 11 PM, hoping to start each day with shots of poison than to face the reality that took away our lovers.
He drank to forget the stars in Hoseok's eyes and I drank to forget the galaxies in Jimin's.
We never talked about our time that we spent away from each other. Just dedicated each night to the memories of his dead love and my living lover.
I'd told Taehyung I liked Jimin.
Because my ego couldn't handle it if I fell in love with another person who didn't love me back. So I bit down on my tongue, drowning the word love in another shot.
Taehyung would just nod and for the rest of the night, we'd drink and sway and comment here and there. When it would be time to leave, we'd nod and take off to wherever else the night would separately carry us.
The night would carry me back to my studio, stumbling drunken through the door and struggling to climb up the wooden stairs to my room. Once I'd reach my bed, I'd let my mind be consumed by the darkness, allowing the wounds to be become fresh once again.
And I'd cry without tears because I'd eventually run out of them. Tears aren't endless, the pain is. Because what's worse than crying out the grief is letting it eat you alive on the inside. And you can't do anything but lie in your cold bed, wishing that the person you fell for would run over and catch you.
"Jimin, please catch me," I buried my head in my pillow, letting his smile and laughter replay for the thousandth time that day.
Without the protruding eyes of Taehyung staring back at me, I accepted the truth once again each night when I was alone, stripped of my ego.
"I don't like you, Jimin."
I turned onto my side to face the ivory moon hanging low, shining across my face and the tears that followed after my true words.
"I love you."
--
this love.
