How To Be A Hoe

31 | Smoke

If there was a perfect analogy for Taehyung, you would use the example of a spider.

Not a snake. There was nothing slimy—or, well, snakey—about him. He was beautiful, yes. Probably poisonous. Many people had warned you about him, yet you were drawn in, fascinated by his beauty and his grace, inching closer and closer to his web of lies until you were trapped without having realized it.

Most people in your school had been scared of spiders, but you'd always had a strange attachment to them. Watching them trap a fly, peering closely at the way their legs worked. That was probably why you were so attracted to Kim Taehyung. It was your fault, but at the same time, it wasn't. Somehow, deep down, you knew that practically everyone in your position would find it hard not to believe him.

He was just that good.

"Taehyung." There was a slight quaver in your voice as you spoke. Your head was still down, position still by the door, grip on the door jamb so tight that the inside of your knuckles felt like you'd kept ice on them for more than a healthy amount of time. "Are you cheating on me?"

You knew it wasn't the smartest way to phrase the question. After all, he wasn't exactly going to go oops, sorry, but yeah. But your emotions had gotten the best of you, and these were the only words that had come to mind. Like the scales of a fish getting clearer as it got closer to the surface, you understood the force of the meaning behind your words only after you spoke them.

He whirled around, making a soft, choked sound at the back of his throat. "Wh—"

"Look at me," you half-yelled, voice lowered only by the awareness that your roommate was still in the apartment. Blinking hard, you turned and raised your eyes to his face. There were no tears, but you could feel a pressure at the back of them, like a headache close to surfacing. You knew that if you didn't get a good enough answer, you were going to fall apart. "Taehyung, look at me when you answer."

His face was astonished, but he straightened when you said that. Distractedly, you noticed the out-of-character intensity in his eyes-they were bright, eager, a crushing expression on his fine features that made you feel like shattering glass.

"No." The word was sure, strong, assertive, all the things Taehyung had never been. "I'm not cheating on you. I never have."

"Don't you fucking—" you cut yourself off, feeling your already tight grip on the handle tightening further. You were closer to tears now, and you knew you shouldn't yell, but the rational side of your brain had stopped working. "Don't lie to me. I smelled the perfume."

"Perfume?" Taehyung's hard exterior was fractured after he spoke, surprise and confusion shining through. "Oh. Oh. That's my partner. He has expensive tastes."

He? you almost asked, but bit back the stereotype. "I don't trust you," you said instead, and his face fell. Unable to watch, you turned away. "I'm—" Sorry? Upset? Broken? You didn't know what you would have said.

There was a long silence, drawn out and thick, like cigarette smoke. The apartment wasn't the best place to sort out your relationship's problems either, not with a certain someone still sitting behind closed doors.

"I'm hanging by a thread, Taehyung," you said finally, releasing your death grip on the jamb and letting it close, leaning against it for support, like you would fall if you tried to stand on your own feet.

"I want to trust you. You're the only stable thing I have in my life, the only person I can trust without questioning myself over it—" your voice broke a little at that— "but you're not giving me a reason," you whispered. "You're not helping. No one is. I know I'm supposed to be smart, I'm supposed to kick you out at this point—what no one sees is that I can't."