Love.
It is a beautiful word. One that is spoken so wonderfully about in poems and songs.
It is a beautiful feeling. One that is sparkling in the eyes of couples and is felt through their touches.
But every coin has two sides.
As much happiness at...
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"The grail was poisoned but I drank it anyway."
~*~
I work hard in the kitchen, rushing to finish dinner before Youngjae gets home. Sometimes I found it strange how this had become my life, and how I just accepted it. I used to be someone who fought against such abuse. And I know if I saw someone else enduring what I was, I'd stand up for them, but I no longer had that strength for myself. In my effort to be punished, the lines between good and bad had become blurred.
A small whimper leaves my lips as I put too much weight on my leg, the large bruise on my hip flaring with pain. I could no longer remember what reason lay behind which bruise. It no longer mattered, the pain just mingled into one.
Removing the pot from the stove, and pouring the contents into a dish, I begin washing the dishes in the sink. It is when arms wrap around my waist do I realize Youngjae is home, not having heard the door open. He rests his chin on my shoulder.
I no longer flinch away from him, my body accustomed to him now. A part of me always remained surprised that he never touched me intimately against my wish. He would beat me and hurt me and on occasion kiss me, but never would he touch me against my will.
Not that I wanted him to, but it merely surprised me. Perhaps he thought there would come a day I'd go to him myself and if this is the rest of my life, well there is nothing that can be said.
"What did you make, Jungkook," he asks, and I'm slightly shocked at how even and almost kind his voice is. I wonder what has brought on the good mood, but knowing my aching body can take no more for the time being, I decide not to ruin it.
"Your favorite," I whisper, still scrubbing away at the dishes, "goat stew with kimchi fried rice."
I remember how that used to be Jimin's favorite as well, and I had pestered Jin to teach me how to make it. It was the only thing I knew how to make decently good, and Jimin had always loved it. After Taehyung came into the picture, he also fell in love with the dishes, and though it hurt, every time they'd come over I'd make sure to work hard at cooking the very best for them.
"Oh, wow, what's the occasion," he asks just as I finish the dishes. I turn around, him stepping back to allow me to do so. I don't look up at him, instead more interested in my socks.
"Nothing, just thought you would like it," I mutter.
He places a single finger under my chin, lifting it up ever so gently. There's a smile on his face, however this time I see the glint of something else behind it. As if he knew a secret that I was desperately trying to hide. Slowly he leans forward, lips at my ear.
"You think I'm an idiot, Jungkook," he asks and my eyes widen, knowing that whatever was going to happen next would hurt.
"W-why would y-you t-think that," I stutter, afraid as his fingers encase around my chin, holding it in a bruising grip.
