How To Be A Hoe

37 | Please

The days turned to hell.

You didn't know what happened, but Jimin had definitely changed.

Midnight, and dreamless sleep. That was your life at first as you threw yourself into your work, choosing to ignore everything around you as if that would make it disappear. Then came the darker days—with the darker thoughts, when you would lock yourself into your room.

Sometimes, you would stay in for the whole weekend, feeding only on the snacks you had stored for yourself. It wasn't healthy, you knew, but you couldn't have been more thankful that you had your own bathroom.

After two weeks or this, it was Jimin's turn. You hadn't expected him to call out to you—you were at fault, you knew, as you always were—but he hadn't even tried, which hurt. Irrationally, in the way people are scared of the dark despite not believing in ghosts. A human tendency that made you want to cut out that part of yourself, the part that saw things you didn't want to see and felt things you didn't want to feel.

Every night, the door would open, and you would hear the sound of a slightly tipsy Jimin and a slightly tipsy someone else, and another door would close. You would shut your heart to the nighthawks and read. And read, and read, but it wouldn't work.

And then the sounds would start.

You couldn't sleep.

Every time you tried, another moan would echo from behind the closed door of his bedroom, making you toss and turn in your bed. Nothing you could do now would block those sounds, even as you pulled a pillow over your ears and pulled the sheets over your head.

The girl would moan again and again and again and it would always be Jimin's name, Jimin who had looked at you so tenderly as you had sat on the counter, Jimin who had taken your virginity.

You swallowed, twisting as you imagined his hands on her body and his lips on her lips and him whispering her name in her ear.

And it bothered you too much.

A part of you was happy for him, happy that he was not completely affected by you, happy that you weren't close enough to hurt him like you had hurt everyone else. Everything you had ever left behind had a crack, or a tear, or a bruise, and you didn't want him to end up that way. Not him.

Sometimes he shut the door all the way, and at other times he would kick the girl out before they got to it, and it made you glad in a sick way. Then you would be mad at yourself for being happy, then guilty. Then mad again.

But what of the girls? your mind often asked you, when you didn't want it to, in the vacant hours of the day when you absolutely had to think. What about the girls he leaves behind, what of the people he breaks to stitch himself back together?

Yes, what of the girls?

If this had been him before you had come, you didn't want to know this Jimin.

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"Y/N."

You didn't try to turn, jaw set, eyes cold as you walked past the boy who had just called out your name.

"Y/N." Taehyung half ran after you, grabbing your arm as he pulled you toward him. "I—"

"Save it," you snapped coldy, wrenching your arms from his grasp as you stepped back, narrowed eyes fixed coldly on his. "How could you even try to talk to me after what you did, you asshole?"

This was the first time you had been this close to him in almost a month, and you were already regretting it. It seemed unbelievably crazy to you that he had the nerve to even walk by you after all that had happened, but you guessed that some people never change.

"Please," he rasped, in hot pursuit, even as you pushed past people to get away. "Please, just listen to me. Just this once."

"Listen to what? Your bullshit?" Your jaw ticked. "I have better things to do."

"Like Park Jimin?" he asked and your head jerked to his face, set and jaw clenched.

"That's none of your business."

Taehyung's eyes screwed shut, and he stopped momentarily before running again. "Okay. Okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Just this once—please—"

He knew Jimin had feelings for you.

He knew the extent of them.

Taehyung had been avoiding both Jimin and you for as long as he could remember, but he was tired. Tired of that and everything else, but desperation had won over everything else. He needed to try. To try and fix whatever he had done wrong, to add on to his spider's web and untangle you from it.

"I have a class to get to, Taehyung," you said bitingly. There wasn't as much pain in your heart as there had been a month ago, and you were glad that you were healing. But you needed time. More time, all the time in the world. Would even that be enough?

"Okay, maybe not now, but—later?" There was torment in his voice, and something subtle and soft that made you halt in your steps. I'm going to regret this, you thought bitterly, but turned on your heel to face him. "My house, or maybe your house, or someplace else, I don't know—"

"Stop," you said bitterly. One corner of the binder in your arms cut into the skin of your forearm, but you barely noticed it. "Don't do this to me."

Taehyung's eyes were pools of water in the dark, shining with fervour and pleading. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know this doesn't make sense, and I know that I don't deserve to say this to you—I messed up. In a way you don't know about. You need to know."

"What, did you make her pregnant?" you bit back, and he flinched. Several pairs of eyes glanced at the scene, but most of the students around gave the two of you a clear circle of space, trying to avoid collison. Your eyes met Taehyung's—imploring, wretched—and emotion flowed into you, twisting a knife in your gut. "I—fuck. God. When?"

The boy smiled as if he couldn't help it—a bright, eager smile that made your heart clench painfully, his messy, dark hair falling into his eyes as he tilted his head forward.

"My house?" His voice was faint, unsure, but you nodded curtly. You were late, and you hated being a part of hallway drama and wanted it to be over soon, so you nodded curtly. The repercussions of your agreement didn't occur to you then. Showing up at his house? It was only when you entered the lecture hall did you realise what you had just agreed to.

But Taehyung had already left.

No, no, no. Panic seized you, sharp and cold, as you tried to settle down in a free seat at the back of the room. Please, no.

You wanted out.

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didja miss me? I GUESS NOT

sorry for disappearing, guys (though to be fair i did leave a message on my board) but i really needed this break. i wrote this chapter after about a quarter of an hour crying over the astronaut mv and my stay/monbebe/deobi heart is still in the process of slow healing. please try not to talk about it, guys, it's still a fresh wound for me.

but yeah, i'm slowly getting better and my mc is getting better with me !! she's still sensitive and hurt, please forgive her. i tend to baby her sometimes, oh well, she's my child after all.

penny for your thoughts on this chapter? i've only just gotten back to writing and i wasn't sure how to execute this one. hopefully it's up to the mark, or at least close.

love,
Manx.