How To Be A Hoe

32 | Like A Fool

trigger warning: depictions of anxiety.

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It wasn't that surprising when it happened, really.

It had been just a couple of days since your unofficial break from Taehyung—unofficial meaning that you hadn't explicitly stated it, but it should have been more than obvious from the way you had sobbed like a six year old, shying away from him when he had tried to touch you after the hug.

You'd felt kind of bad, then, but maybe he deserved it. Probably, not maybe. Definitely.

So when you opened the door after being directed to it by one of Taehyung's friends, you already kinda knew what was coming.

A blur of white over tan skin, a flash of pale hair flying as a head leaned back—that was all you caught before Taehyung blocked your vision, closing the door until it was open just a crack. His face looked feverish, reddish blotches patterning his high cheekbones, a messy bed of hair, and you knew.

He didn't even wait for you to react. "I'm cheating on you," he said, looking entirely apathetic.

You had thought about catching him many times while in the darkness of your thoughts. Always, you had been cold and hot when he cowered, begged for mercy, but it wasn't the case now. Taehyung stood, tall and proud still, and you stopped feeling entirely. Numbness blanketed you, like the calm before a storm, eyes dry, hands steady, heart still beating.

Then you slapped him.

How head jerked to the side with a sound like thunder cracking, and something inside you twisted in satisfaction. The look on his face was as blank and smooth as marble as he reached up to touch the spot where you had hit him, but you didn't waver.

No tears threatened to spill. No scream threatened to be heard. All you felt at that moment was a silent acceptance, and nothing.

I hate you.

But did you, really? It was almost impossible, you knew, to hate someone you had even a single good memory with.

Even if you knew he was to be blamed for throwing away a promise and lying so unashamedly, you couldn't help but berate yourself for it. It was illogical, stupid, unreasonable. It was emotional, and you couldn't stop feeling.

Taehyung had walked all over you, yes.

Because you were the one who had come up with a reason why he was out so much.

Because you weren't worth anything.

To him.

"Do you not feel anything?" you asked, but your voice was surprisingly unemotional, giving nothing away about the way your mind was tossing and turning on the waves. It was a simple, factual question; you had asked it the way you would ask what their favorite color was. "Would you not care if you ruined a life?"

Taehyung's eyes were wide and glittery as he gripped the doorframe. There was something deep and earnest in them, that made you recoil in revulsion. At that moment, he was a monster. "Do you think I do?"

Do I think you are humane? "No." The word was breathed out, a strength behind it that reinforced your resignation to your fate. It wasn't that you didn't care about losing him anymore, but that you didn't care about losing your own self—because you already had. "No, I don't think you do," you repeated, softly this time.

Glassy eyes. Sunlight, and the feeling of his peach lips on your own. Glassy skies.

Exhaling through your nose, you looked him in the eyes, willing yourself not to get lost in them again.