Buy me flowers| PJM

F. 17

I skipped the last two classes.

I couldn't concentrate properly anyway. I knew that I was going to get in trouble for this, but I couldn't give a damn. It was the last thing it would've concerned me at that point. This grief in my heart felt pathetic, as if I was wailing over something too superficial, something that I actually deserved to go through. It's something new to me, but somehow it doesn't feel strange. It's just that I'm not used to it. Otherwise, it feels... normal to me.

You crossed the line.

I know I did. And I shouldn't have. I guess sometimes I'm not aware of how far I push. Maybe I shouldn't push that much, though... Maybe I shouldn't push at all.

You're no good at all.

After about 20 minutes, I arrived to my destination. I shyly step to the front door. When I reach it, I inhale deeply. After that, I exhale. Then, I knock.

I hear somebody saying "Coming!" from the inside and soon enough, the door is opened by a tall man, whose black hair had a tint of grey in it, unlike the last I'd seen him. His traits were very familiar to me and it made me shiver a bit. I feel tears gathering behind my eyes but I do my best to hold them back.

So it's true.

His father is back.

"Good afternoon!" I greet JungKook's father, trying to give him a respectful smile.

"Oh, God, hello, Yuna!" he says, smiling tiredly. "It's been a while... Come in!"

I nod and step inside. I unlace my boots and follow JungKook's father in the living room. I knew his house well enough anyway. It was nice to be in such a familiar place after so long. I haven't really been here for a while. I guessed I missed it. At least a bit.

I sit on the couch, waiting for mr. Jeon to sit as well.

"Would you like something to drink? I have just prepared coffee."

"Water is fine, thank you." I say.

He nods and disappears, most probably heading to the kitchen to bring me a glass of water. That thought is confirmed when he returns holding a nice transparent glass of water in one hand and a brown mug in which I assumed it was coffee in his other hand. He put the glass in front of me, on the coffee table and I mutter a "Thank you".

"So, how have you been? How is Hoseok?" He asks me as I take a sip of water.

"Pretty well, my brother is good, thank you for asking." I answer politely. "What about you? I didn't know you'd returned from your business trip."

"I returned three weeks ago." He says. "I'll be home until March, when I'll leave again. Didn't JungKook tell you?"

"No, he didn't." I say. "I think he just forgot to tell me."

I laugh it off. But no, he didn't forget. He didn't want to tell me.

"Oh, how is miss Jeon?" I ask remembering the main reason why I'm here.

Suddenly, the color from mr. Jeon's cheeks drains out. He looks at me with his eyes slightly widened, but soon enough he avoids my gaze.

Something's definitely wrong.

"Oh, she..."

I look at the man, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"She doesn't feel well." He finally says. "You know, this weather... She's pretty sick right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry then. I hope she'll get better soon." I say a bit worried.

So that was it? That's what JungKook didn't want to tell me?

Is it?

"I'm sure she will." Mr. Jeon says. "I'll tell her you passed by."

We talk for about 20 minutes more. I didn't really care about the things that we talked about, but I had to be polite and pretend like I was here just to make a little visit and nothing more. Fortunately, mr. Jeon doesn't ask me about school: after all, I should've been in class at that hour but he didn't seem to know that, which by the way, wasn't upsetting me at all.

Eventually, I say I should leave and JungKook's father leads me to the door. I thank him for welcoming me so warmly and he gives me a kind smile. If I didn't know him, I would think thought that's genuine. But it isn't.

***

Sitting on the little bench in my greenhouse doesn't seem to help me concentrate on my essay. I thought that if I stay, I'll be more inspired. But that's not working. The night begins to set over the city and with a sigh, I decide to give up. I wrote some lines. Actually, I wrote a lot, but none of what I wrote seems to be good. There's nothing good about what I write.

There's nothing good about me.

I stand up and glance once again at the withered flowers in my greenhouse. It's been a while since I've last got flowers from somebody. I don't know how to feel about it. My walls are slowly crumbling down and the flowers are the only thing that can stop this.

It's just that, I'm afraid this time, it's not stoppable.

As soon as I'm out of the greenhouse, a cold wind makes me shiver. The late November weather makes me realize it's time to dress up warmer. From now on, a hoodie won't keep me warm anymore. Which kind of annoys me, I guess.

Time to dress like a doll again, Yunhae.

I sigh and I enter the house. The lights are turned off so I reckon Hobi hasn't returned from work yet. Great, another evening for me to spend alone with my thoughts. And with that freaking essay.

I suddenly remember the conversation I happened to eavesdrop today and I shiver. What was Jimin doing with Jaehyun today? And most importantly, why was he pretending he was my brother? Why was he defending me? How did he even know that Jae-...

I suddenly remember I told him that a guy named Jaehyun did that to me. Still, he's not the only Jaehyun on the earth, for God's sake. How did he know it was that Jaehyun? How did he find him?

Ugh, Yunhae, you have better things to think about right now.

Still, I can't be at peace. I feel like I'm gonna explode and that's pissing me off as well. Why can't I just focus on my freaking essay?

Because you're so stupid.

I wonder what JungKook is doing now. Did he go home? Or did he go to his grandmother, like his mother suggested? I feel so bad that he's mad at me that I can't focus on anything and that annoys me even more. I screwed up. JungKook has always been there for me and the fact that he's mad on me now proves how bad the situation is. I feel guilty. I'm the worst friend ever. I hate that I'm such a mess. I hate that I can't do anything right, I can't please anybody, not even my literature teacher because this essay will be so shitty.

I hate myself.

I hate myself so much.

I wish I would just disappear so that people around me can be happy, without having to take care of such a sick mess like me. They would finally be able to focus on their own lives without worrying about me. They would finally be able to feel free.

All my life, my family tried to help me, to make it through any kind of hardship I'd face. They have tried to be there for me as much as they could. I have never given anything in return. I am such a burden. I'm nothing good. What good have I ever done to anybody? Have I ever done something good?

Maybe that one night when I woke up after I'd cut myself wasn't that bad. Maybe that's the thing to do, hurting myself as much as possible so I can pretend like I'm paying for the fact that I'm worthless to this world.

Better disappear from this world as soon as possible.

I sigh, looking around the house. Eventually, I go to my room with a single thought in my mind.