t w e n t y • f i v e

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ミ★
twenty-five
❝powerful confessions❞
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ミ★ twenty-five❝powerful confessions❞━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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The words tremble from my lips with every ounce of affirmation I can muster.

I stare at him helplessly; my palms feeling hot against his chest, scared to move or release the feeling of him beneath my touch. The walls in my room feel as though they are closing in around me, like they are threatening me to take back each word. I fight against the pressure I feel to back down. He doesn't make it easy: my boyfriend is merely staring at me although I know he heard me.

His eyes are narrowed down at my wide, rounded ones. I'm breathless and anticipating him to speak, but he seems lost in my eyes. Tears build up when he doesn't say anything. Say something, I yearn mentally. My eyebrows furrow and I catch my trembling bottom lip beneath my teeth. I'm finding it impossible to feel his beating heart because of how overbearingly loud mine is.

"Taehyung?"

I blink and the tears fall down onto my cheeks. There is a flash of uncertainty that I see in him; he doesn't believe me.

The lack of response to my confession is clear indication of how high he has built his walls. I feel like I am in the practice room on the night of our first kiss again. Taehyung did not believe our kiss was real: he forced himself to think I was after something else. . .

"Our first kiss?" I cry. "Do you remember?"

I wanted to die of embarrassment back then. I blamed my rash move on the fact that I was swept up in the moment. I tried to tell myself that I was foolish to do that to him: that he didn't want it. I forgot to assure myself that it was what I wanted. I fell for him at that moment in the practice room because he was the reason I was in there. He was the reason I was taking back my passion. He is the beginning of this journey, and the reason I realized I could chase what I wanted.

"Do you remember?" I repeat, mumbling through my tears.

Taehyung tries to look away from me. I am gentle with my sheepish touch on his cheek to urge him not to. He exhales. His wet eyelashes flutter.

"Yes."

I repeat myself for him; anything to get this through his head,

"I kissed you that night," I mutter. I slide my other hand up to his shoulders. I've fallen a nervous victim to his stare; "You saw the person I wanted to be, and because of you I was able to make that a reality."

My fingertips are now trembling, along with every nerve in my body, and I know he can feel them against his flushed cheek.

I'm scared to allow him to look away from me for too long; I know what darkness can feel like if you aren't reminded of the light. Taehyung is that to me. I would like to think that I am that to him.

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