monotone

fury

very much like his recent hookup with camilla, jungkook didn't return for the duration of the entire school day, and i had just knew he had been banging with the new girl, whose beauty was melodic and unparalleled, and demeanor soft but impenetrable. jungkook would love to penetrate, to violate, and to complicate her, it was only of his immoral and honestly impersonal inclination. 

yet what i had seen last night suggested otherwise; i couldn't dwell in his facade of an exterior that the sobreity of intoxication and alcohol had utterly shattered, in the end he was just a mere little boy who hates his father. 

my mind grew furious and i grew aware; who am i to think i truly know him? to the extent that i can make idioyncratic and private observations about him?

i dont and i cant.

slipping discreetly away from my wary guard, my mind wandered off to something just slightly more general and idyllic, and much more delusion driven: his smile and the way his checks dimple when it widens; his eyes when they are crinkled, softened at the corners and he loses the bit of perfection in his somehow still perect smile; when it gets caught in the sun, and his hair floats in some anonymous breeze that travels to my mouth, cuts off my breath, and leaves me speechless.

in consequence to having such an embarrassing trail of thoughts, i squeeze my eyes shut and shove my head into my arms crossed on the table, feeling as if i had traveled too high, or maybe was seized by the devil, and had gotten trapped in the sun. 

i just wished i could seize satan and demand him for my stolen dignity, to bewitch, to curse my mind into stopping. 

Ugh. i hate that kid and the spell he knows he casts. 

the dismissal bell shrieks and i startle. now on edge about not only  jungkook but the bell, too? lovely.

i stood up stiffly and rather aggressively, before stalking out, wound up in a vague fury i couldn't place; the worst kind.

as i slaunter with somewhat of a stomp, my forehead is met with cloth, and a broad form under it. i raised my eyes just for them to latch onto a pair of dark, glintly eyes that catch sunlight so goddamn easily.

no.

in a fury, i huff in some odd, incomprehensible way, and push past him, but not before he sidesteps and i am ready to throw hands.

does he know he sets me off so easily? apparently. 

"babygirl, why are you mad?"

precisely then i realized why i resented myself so furiously for thinking intimately about him; he was a bastard and only five words had to come out of his mouth to prove this.

"im not, get out of my way."

"oh, i don't think so. Mira or something was pretty, but i want to talk to you now."

his fingers wrapped around mine and his dimple made an appearance, his eyes glassy with flirtation. 

???

I cant believe he was doing this again.

a/n: sorry for the short updates, my attention span really wants to yeet me and this is all procrascination, got to get back on that comparative essay grind