Not Your Lover (2PARK✔️)

Chapter Twenty-Four: Overwhelming

1) you guys are so important and i love everyone who bothers to read this story, despite its obvious flaws and plot holes. the random drama i throw around like jokes isn't funny, and i'm sorry for one last random turn ahead.

2) are you guys ready- this was incredibly difficult to write, trust me. I didn't know how to go about it, or how to make it seem real, but even months after writing and editing over this series, i'm so happy with it. let's go!

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"I hate you so much," a low voice mumbles beside my head. It's husky, and thick with despair. I hope that they aren't speaking to me with a voice laced with that much worry, because I surely don't deserve it. "You always pull me in like this, you bastard."

I groan at that, having heard enough to know that surely they're speaking exclusively to me. "Why are you here then?" I don't open my eyes, already knowing who is sat at my bedside. The feel of the bed however almost draws my gaze, feeling unfamiliar and stiff. "Why are you here if you hate me so much?"

My voice sounds raw, and it's agony to push each word past my throat, but I force away the pain as best I can. I cough once, the pain stinging for several seconds afterward.

"For whatever reason, I was your emergency contact." He sounds bitter about it, but I'm sure I would too if I had to drag myself to someplace I didn't want to be. Especially if it was to see someone I didn't want to see. "The agency probably set it up that way in case one of us wound up checked into the hospital. Just so it looks more real."

So I'm in the hospital, I think to myself. That at least explains the bed.

"I doubt you actually have to stay here," I mutter, finally tugging up enough strength to peel one eye open. I glance his way, surprised to see pale cheeks and reddened eyes. His hair is red again, and I wonder how he managed to dye it flawlessly overnight, especially after a fight like the one we had. "You can just say you don't know me, or that the phone numbers were wrong." I peel the other eye open, almost unfazed when he doesn't meet my gaze fully. "Go home."

Jihoon's eyes flit over my face for a brief moment before he faces himself away. He gives me his best carefree shrug, folding his arms over his chest defensively, prepared to hear an attack. "I didn't have anything better to do than sit around anyway."

I can't smile at his words. I don't even want to.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, also turning myself away. I can't roll over far, my arm run through with an IV drip I hadn't even noticed until now. I do my best despite the pain in my arm, turning onto my side and avoiding his eyes so neither of us are at a risk of blowing up again. Who knows what could spill after so much has already been poured out?

"I'm sorry for fucking up over and over," I continue when all I can see is the hospital room's window, a table set beneath it completely bare. I can't see his expression from this angle, but I can imagine the purse to his lips, and the narrowing of his eyes clear as day. "I'm sorry for lying at the start, and I'm sorry for isolating you later."

"So you can sympathize," he replies sardonically. "Great to know now, even though everything has already happened. You're a little late to the party."

I bite at my lower lip, flinching when I find an already fresh cut running along it. "Considering I tried my hardest to make sure you were always happy should prove some point, but whatever, Jihoon." I cough again, shoving my hand in front of my mouth to silence myself as best I can.

"You hurt me," he blurts suddenly, drawing me from my inner turmoil. "I don't know if you realize how bad you hurt me."

"You slapped me," I reply. "I think I understand how badly I hurt you."