Dance to This [kth]

f i v e

ミ★
five
❝kisses & breakfast❞
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I'm hoping the text I sent to my father labeling college as "a lot of fun and motivating" can be the truth soon. I can't deny my lonely weekend in my dorm was not the epitome of fun I had anticipated. I'm apprehensive to confront Jungkook and Jimin.

It's 8am again when I arrive into my photography classroom. My classmates are whispering to each other as I pass them, and every ounce of courage in my body has allowed me to show up today to face them. Is there a recovery from this? I vomited in class. I'm vomit girl.

My eyes widen to see Jungkook's seat empty.

I am so stunned that sitting down becomes a solo-motion effort, and my eyes are trailing around the room in search of him elsewhere. No. Did he drop the class? Where is he? Did my denial of his request make him hate me enough to switch classes?

My thoughts are interrupted abruptly by the sound of the classroom door slamming, and Professor Kim's presence seems to contrast the tiredness of the morning. Today his hair is styled and effortless swooshes back from his forehead. I'm staring at him in a blank train of thought, inspecting his dark facial features that compliment his light hair.

My awe soon turns to dust when I remember that my insides spilled onto his chest a few days ago. I sink into my seat and adjust my cardigan in discomfort. I want to apologize, but I don't think I can. Just going over what I'd say in my head makes me feel sick.

I feel weird without Jungkook sitting next to me; his pen tapping had become a background noise I was accustomed to. The seat remains empty even when class begins. I can't recall much of anything that was taught today; my mind is running on all the possibilities of what happened to Jungkook. Is his part of my plan now void?

I don't realize class is over until chairs start shuffling and students start to stand. I rush out in the mix with other people and successfully make my way out of class without professor stopping me.

The temperature outside is quickly changing, summer air and humid hues of the day becoming chilly and cool; trees seem less green and my cardigan is needed against the light wind of the morning. My phone buzzes against me and I go searching into my pockets for it. Students pass me as I slow down to read the text— I'm not surprised. It's a good morning text from Namjoon. We've been talking all weekend.

Namjoon:
good morning beautiful 🌞
wyd?

I glance up from my phone to think of a response. My feet are subconsciously taking me towards the dining hall across campus; it requires me to walk down a long pathway swallowed by many flowers and tall trees. The sun is blinding me, but not enough to shield my view from him.