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gimmesumsuga · 6 years

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BTS Reaction - Breaking up (Pt.2)

Warnings: very mild angst - nothing in comparison to part one!

I’m not sure if this is what you guys wanted or expected from part two, but regardless I hope you like it anyway! <3 <3

Seokjin

You’d think you’d be used to it by now; seeing Jin’s face in the centerfolds of glossy magazines. It doesn’t hurt like it used to - not like the first time when you’d caught a glimpse of his face and then promptly burst into tears - but it’s still enough to give you pause as you gaze down at the tabloid rag spread out across your lap. Just because you break up doesn’t necessarily mean you stop loving someone, even when they’ve transgressed as badly as Jin had done, and seeing photographs of him out in public with her on his arm has never really gotten any easier.

They do suit each other, though, you’ll give them that. She’s just as stunning as he is - a real prize - and she looks just as youthful in today’s latest issue as she did three years ago when the first pictures of them together appeared only weeks after you’d caught the two of them together. The up-and-coming actress and the affluent son of one of Korea’s most influential CEO’s. What a well-matched couple they make.

Still, there is something that seems to have changed between them. These days they never look quite so happy as they used to, walking side by side rather than hand in hand, her two steps ahead, Jin lingering behind. They wear sunglasses now, rather than smiles, and deep down in some secret little part of you you can’t help but feel a little glad about it. Some remaining bitterness isn’t too unusual, you suppose, so you try not to feel too guilty as those thoughts cross your mind.

He still wears the watch you gave him, as old and out of style as it is.

“Mama!” Grasping fingers assault you from behind, and your daughter’s toddler chubby form suddenly tumbles over your shoulder from where she’d been climbing on the back of the couch. She lands square on your lap, crumpling the magazine beneath.

It’s for the best that it’s ruined; unchecked you might stare at it too long - waste too much time on pointless thoughts - when everything that matters to you, everything that’s important, is already right here.

“Careful, little love!” Taehyung laughs as he rounds the end of the couch to flop down next to you, beaming his square smile down at the girl as she giggles and wriggles to right herself on your lap. You feel his arm come to rest atop of your shoulder as your daughter nestles in amongst sweater, clinging like a koala, and as you run your fingers affectionately over the top of her hair she slips her thumb into her mouth, really getting comfortable.

“I hope that wasn’t important,” Tae comments, nodding at the crumpled edges of the magazine poking out from under your daughter’s rounded little bottom.

“No,” you reply with a shake of your head, warmth flooding your veins as you watch your husband reach out to brush golden hair off of her pretty little face with the gentlest of touches. The press of your lips to his catches Taehyung off guard, his eyes sparkling and dancing between yours as you pull away. “It’s just old news.”

Yoongi “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” you muse with a crooked smile, glancing over to the boy who’s stood leant against your kitchen counter with his arms folded, tendons flexing as he drums his fingertips against each bicep, “You’ve seen my total lack of coordination, right?”

“All you need to do is follow my lead.” You ‘hmm’ you’re uncertainty down into the cooking pot, stirring a tornado into the spicy smelling broth cooking on the stove. It’s all very well for Jay to say that - he’s always been blessed with the natural rhythm that you lack - and right on cue he decides to display it, unfolding his arms and dancing his way over to you, hips sashaying. You giggle as he grabs a hold of yours, crotch pressing into the curve of your buttocks as he circles them in time to the ridiculous tune he’s humming, smiling mouth nipping at the curve of your ear. “See? Piece of cake.”

“I’m not sure we’d be welcome in class for very long, dancing like that,” you laugh as he continues to gyrate against you. The broth’s at risk of burning but Jay doesn’t seem to mind, grabbing your wrist and spinning you, spoon dripping above your head to land with your back against the counter, breathless and pinned by his body weight.

“Maybe not,” he smirks, leaning in close, “But it’s fun, right?”

Of course it is; everything with Jay is fun. Talking, cooking, dancing, kissing… you suppose that’s one of the perks of having fallen in love with your best friend. He was the one who’d been there for you when Yoongi had so brutally turned you away from his doorstep - who’d picked up the pieces and dried your tears for days on end. And slowly, over time, you’d grown to depend on him more than you’d ever dared rely on anyone before. You’d gotten used to having someone around all the time, someone so free and easy with affection that it’d almost been a little scary at first, and, luckily enough, Jay had seemed to come to rely on you too.

He and Yoongi couldn’t have been more different if they tried, and it was exactly what you’d needed back then.

Jay’s shapely lips are just a hair’s breadth away from yours when there’s a sudden and jarring knock at your door, one that makes you jump and drop your spoon with a clatter to the kitchen floor. He pulls back, smirking at the blush that’s blossomed across your cheeks and the way you stutter as you sidestep from between his arms to answer it.

“Yoongi?” You practically choke on his name as you pull open your front door, stomach dropping when you see him stood there on your doorstep nervously rubbing the side of his neck.

“Hey,” he greets, and it’s odd because he almost looks a little shy - a little awkward - not quite able to hold your eye contact for more than a second at a time. “Are you… can we talk?”

What? It’s been almost six months - what could he possibly want to talk about now, after all this time? The corners of his slender lips tilt upward into a hopeful, sheepish smile, and you’re proud of the way your heart doesn’t skip at all when you see it. It’s a far cry from the way your pulse used to race whenever he even looked your way.

“Now’s not really a good time…” you murmur, glancing awkwardly at the floor at the way his face falls.

“Just a few minutes?” he persists, taking a step forward towards the doorway, “I wanted to-” Yoongi’s cut off by Jay saying your name as he appears beside you and curls his arm protectively around your waist.

“Everything ok?” He follows your eye-line, the concern in his eyes as he’d looked down at you morphing into curiosity when they turn on Yoongi, quickly turning cold soon after. Yoongi’s expression is no better, all the features of his face hardening as he takes in the way Jay pulls you even closer to his side.

“Him?” Yoongi scoffs, looking his replacement up and down, “Really?” You shouldn’t be surprised by the venom in his voice; when you’d been together Yoongi had never made a secret of his dislike for your energetic best friend.

“Me,” Jay answers smugly, chin tilting forward just enough to offer up a challenge to the shorter boy opposite. Yoongi simply glares, and the silence extends for long enough that you start to shift nervously in Jay’s grasp. “Like she said, we’re kind of busy right now.” Your boyfriend starts to shut the door but Yoongi stops it in his tracks with the palm of his hand, pushing back.

“What, she can’t speak for herself?”

“She can,” you interject before things can escalate any further, taking a hold of the door handle yourself and cocking your head to the side, smiling cooly as you close it firmly in his face, echoing the words he’d dismissed you with all those months ago. “See you around, Yoongi.”

Hoseok

“Hoseok!” The call of his name escapes your lips before you’ve even really thought about how awkward it might be to bump into your ex-boyfriend so unexpectedly. And it will be awkward; how could it be anything but when you’re currently walking hand in hand with the man whose baby you’re carrying inside your 6 month swollen stomach?

It’s too late to escape now, though, because Hobi is already straightening up, attention drawn from the shop window he was inspecting so closely to turn on the spot towards you. Your eyes meet first, his widening as they drift downwards over your heavily pregnant form and then fix on Jeongguk at your side. He looks good - well rested and heavily tanned - and it’s a genuine smile that you beam back at him as you close the space between you.

“It’s been a long time,” you say as you stand toe to toe, pedestrians passing you by on either side, “You look really well.”

“So do you,” he replies enthusiastically, face splitting into a smile. You can tell just how blindsided he is by the elevation of his tone as he gestures up and down the length of you, gaze lingering once again on your bump.

You’re both doing a good job so far of pretending like it doesn’t feel completely and utterly bizarre to see each other after so much time has passed; it’s not as though you’d parted on particularly good terms, after all. Your relationship had never recovered after that argument about your future, and less than a week after it’d happened you’d both called it quits amongst a lot of awkward silences and unshed tears.

“Oh!” you suddenly exclaim, realising that you’ve yet to introduce the two men, too caught up in admiring how well Hobi has aged to do so. It’s not that you’re still attracted to him - those feelings are long dead and buried - but you can’t deny that time has treated him kindly. His eyes still sparkle as he smiles, the shallow crows feet that line them providing the only hint of the passage of time. “Sorry! Hoseok this is Jeongguk.”

The two men exchange a hesitant handshake, and as they do you can’t help but notice how Hobi’s lips seem to tighten, Jeongguk eyeing the older man with an air of suspicion about him.

“Nice to meet you,” Hobi nods politely and Jeongguk returns the sentiment, tightening the link of your fingers as you and your ex begin to make small talk about the comings and goings of your life since you parted so long ago.

“I’ll head inside babe,” Jeongguk informs you during the next lull in the conversation with a nod toward a store further down the street, slipping his hand out of yours and placing a swift kiss against your forehead and a gentle palm to your bump. “Give you two chance to catch up.” You nod, promising you’ll find him as soon as you’re done, and at that Jeongguk departs, leaving the two of you alone.

“So,” Hobi exhales with a shrug, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, “Little young to be a dad, isn’t he?” You can’t help but scoff a laugh at the bluntless of his words, casting your eyes heavenwards for a moment before fixing him with a look, one eyebrow raised.

“He’s mature about the things that count,” you inform him smoothly, running both hands over your bump as the baby inside decides to weigh in too, giving your ribs a swift kick. “We’re getting married in October, after this one arrives. God knows how I’m supposed to fit into a wedding dress,” you joke with a good-natured chuckle and you see Hobi’s eyes flick down to the engagement ring that rests upon your left hand, sparkling in the afternoon sunshine.

“Wow.”

You feel a little mean for the sense of satisfaction you get from seeing him falter ever so slightly, smile slipping as he swallows and drags his gaze back up to your face, plastering the grin back on. You wonder if he feels any regret for the choices he made back then? You would’ve happily done all of these things with Hoseok if he’d have only wanted to, if he’d have just said the word, but it’s far too late to wonder about what could’ve been now.

“You’ve really got it all planned out, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” you smile as your unborn gives another kick, full of energy, just like his dad. “We really do.”

Namjoon

It’s taken you too long to come back here. You’ve come close to making it through the doors to your once favourite cafe a good number of times since you and Namjoon broke up two months ago, but you’ve never quite made it across the threshold until today. You’re not even sure what it is about today in particular that gives you the courage to do it; it’s not like you’ve been forced into making unavoidable plans to meet someone here, nor are you feeling anymore well equipped to deal with the barrage of emotions that hit you as soon as you step into the humid space, but here you are regardless.

It’s silly, really, to have avoided a place just as much as you’d avoid a person, especially when you’ve been missing their caramel lattes as much as you have. There’s just so many memories here - so many things that remind you of him - that it’s been far easier to choke down subpar coffee than to confront the empty feeling that’s aching deep within you as you join the line that stands several people deep.

You distract yourself by staring at the variety of delicious looking macaroons and pastries behind counter, wishing that you possessed the appetite to stomach one but knowing it’s pointless to even try. Coffee and cigarettes is more are more or less the only things you’ve been subsisting on since the last time you were here, and you can see the effects of it in the reflection that stares back at you from the curved pane of glass.

“They're delicious, aren't they?” a pleasant voice suddenly asks you, startling you out of your reverie, and when you abruptly look up you find yourself face to face with a handsome stranger whose dark eyes are locked onto yours. You blink dumbly, struck mute, and the man’s cheeks flush sweetly as he gestures to display case. “The coconut ones are my favourite,” he explains further, “If they offer you cream with it, say yes. You won't regret it.” He smiles, drawing your gaze to his impossibly full lips whilst your brain wrestles for something to say when confronted with such unapologetic beauty.

“Those are my favourite too,” you finally manage to reply, voice raspy from lack of use and too many cigarettes, and the man's smile becomes even wider.

“You obviously have good taste.” God, you really must be out of practice with the opposite sex if such a simple little compliment can make you blush so deeply. “Jin,” he introduces with an offer of a hand that you meekly shake, disclosing your name in turn. His palm dwarfs yours, skin so warm that it makes you ache for the human contact you've shut yourself away from these past couple of months, and when he withdraws his hand to place his order you miss it almost instantly.

“What’re you having?” he asks all of a sudden, looking at you down the length of his broad shoulders. You're about to refuse his offer, already shaking your head when Jin speaks again. “It'll be my good deed for the day. Please.” Somewhat reluctantly you relent, allowing Jin to order your drink and then waiting beside him whilst it's made.

He hums and rocks on his heels next to you as the minutes drag on, the soft smile never leaving his face. You're not sure you've ever seen anyone so at ease with themselves at Jin appears to be, and you find yourself smiling at the floor as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. Apparently Jin is both handsome and adorable at once.

“Here you go,” he grins as he carefully passes you your coffee, and there’s a pause after you thank him in which both of you linger by the cash register, unsure of how to proceed. “Would you like to grab a coffee sometime?” Jin suddenly blurts out as you begin to move away, immediately bursting into peals of laughter once he realises what he’s said, pink cheeks darkening closer to maroon as you giggle as well, glancing down at your shoes.

He really does seem sweet, and, although you’re fairly certain you’re not not even nearly ready to start dating again, the fact that this is the warmest and happiest you’ve felt in weeks is enough to sway you into saying yes, shyly nodding your head as you hide behind you papercup.

“No time like the present, right?”

Jimin

Jimin’s not having much luck tonight, truth be told.

He leans with his back against the wall with a drink in hand, eyes drifting listlessly across the room as he searches for a pretty girl dancing amongst the neon lights who might dare to take him home. He can’t say he’s particularly picky - at this point in the night almost anyone will do - but the trouble is that Jimin’s gotten himself a little bit of a reputation around this part of town. He’s already slept with most of the girls that regularly frequent here on a Saturday night, and the ones he hasn’t have usually already been forewarned that Jimin’s not one that likes to stick around.

Bored, he eyes the bar from left to right, dismissing the notion of preying upon the girl who’s eyeing him up from where she’s perched swaying upon a stool, already sporting a bloody knee from the spectacularly drunken fall she’d taken up the steps earlier in the evening. He’s not quite that desperate. Not yet.

Jimin’s just about to throw back his drink and call it a night when he spots you at the bar nestled between the shoulders of two girls far more scantily clad than you, and a smile that’d easily class as predatory spreads across his face whilst he watches you sing along to a song that he knows is your favourite, all in a world of your own.

It’s been 18 months since Jimin last answered one of your calls, but he’s confident in his ability to charm his way back into your bed once more. You never could resist him, right from the very start, and by the looks of things very little has changed in the time that’s passed. You’re still just that little bit curvier than the other girls around you, still glancing at the floor just a little too often as you stand all alone on a Saturday night, a straw caught between your lips, sipping your drink.

Jimin saunters his way over to you, every movement calculated and purposeful, from the way he runs his hand through his hair to the alluring bite of his bottom lip as your eyes meet his from the other side of the room. The look of surprise on your face when you see him makes his pulse race with excitement; the chase begins. He loves this part.

The contents of your stomach roil when Jimin comes to stand next to you at the bar, a casual elbow placed atop of it as he warmly smiles your way, purring your name over the thumping bass of the music. You’d already spotted him a good half an hour ago, and had spent every moment since praying that he wouldn’t notice you, hiding yourself amongst the patrons of the bar as best you could. Apparently God hasn’t been listening.

“It’s been a long time,” Jimin comments after you’ve brought yourself to acknowledge his presence with a curt nod of your head accompanying his name.

“It has,” you reply shortly, uninterested in engaging him in any more conversation than absolutely necessary. You know what he’s come over here for and what he’s after. The way he’s looking at you now is exactly the same way he used to whenever he was trying to sweet talk his way into your pants - with great success, usually. Well, not anymore. “I can’t believe you’re still coming to this dive.” Flicking your eyes in Jimin’s direction you’re pleased to see him falter at your scathing tone, but it’s only for a moment. He recovers as smoothly, shrugging.

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Only to give someone a tour of my misspent youth,” you reply, discarding your straw onto the bar and taking a proper drink. You need it.

“You’re here with someone?” Jimin’s unable to withhold the smirk that tugs at his lips, taking a sip of his jack and coke before speaking again. “So where is he?”

“He’ll be along in a minute,” you answer without faltering, turning your head to look directly at Jimin in a way that makes his eyebrows rise. There’s something different about you, Jimin thinks, and it takes him a little longer of looking to start to figure it out.

You don’t look different to the last time he saw you, but everything else about you seems to have changed. The way you speak, the way you hold yourself - the strength shining behind your eyes. You’re not the vulnerable girl Jimin met so long ago anymore. You look like a woman now, and for the first time Jimin starts to doubt that you might succumb to his charms.

He’s about to start layering on the flattery when the companion you were referring to suddenly arrives, eyeing Jimin cooly even as he wraps his slender arm around your waist, tugging you close. Immediately your cold exterior melts in the presence of this man you call ‘Yoongi’, a beautiful smile taking the place of your frown.

“Friend of yours?” he drawls, looking Jimin up and down as though he’s something entirely undesirable - a smear of excrement on the bottom of his shoe. What’s so great about this guy, anyway? Jimin reckons he could snap him in half if he tried hard enough, so skinny and slight is he. What a downgrade.

You shake your head, not even bothering to look Jimin’s way as you reply - much to his fury.

“No - he’s nobody.”

Taehyung

God, you’ve been dreading this moment. It’s hard enough even being back here, stood on the doorstep of the dorms you used to frequent so regularly back when Taehyung was ever in town, without the added anxiety of knowing you’ll have to actually see him too. It’s a necessary evil, though, one you’ve been putting off for months, and if you ever want your stuff back then you’re just going to have to get it over and done with.

Determinedly, and with a very deep breath, you ring their doorbell and wait for the inevitable ache in your chest that comes whenever you’re confronted with Taehyung’s beautiful face. And that’s the worst part of it, really. With BTS’ ever increasing success his image is becoming ever more difficult to avoid, and whilst you’re still happy to see them doing well it doesn’t make each day any easier to bare.

Slowly, the front door swings open, and once again you take a deep, bracing breath. It’s all for nothing, though, because the face that greets you is not the one you expect. It’s Jimin, rather than Taehyung, stood chewing on his bottom lip, one hand stuck in his jeans pocket as he takes in the sight of you.

“Chimmy, hi!” you greet with all the enthusiasm you can muster, which honestly isn’t all that hard. Out of all of the boys you’re kind of glad it’s him that’s answered in the end; you always did get on with Jimin the best. “I just came by to pick up my things.”

“Yeah, Tae said you’d be coming by,” Jimin replies with a smile as he steps back from the door to allow you to enter, closing it gently behind you. You notice his eyes drift over you as yours do the same to him, and you know that he’s probably think you look like hell. These last couple months haven’t been easy. It’s a relief to see him looking well, though. Jimin had been getting a little too skinny for your liking over the time you’ve known him, but today his cheeks are looking a little fuller, soft and blushed pink under your gaze.

“He’s not here?” Jimin shakes his head, and you’re not sure whether you feel disappointed or relieved, to be honest.

“Everyone else went out to eat and he went with them,” he explains, tugging at the sleeve of his baby blue sweater.

“I see.”

“I think he was nervous about seeing you again,” Jimin adds when he sees flash of hurt pass across your features, clearly trying to soften the blow. You force a smile, grasping the strap of your shoulder bag tightly for something to hold onto, the dull ache in the centre of your chest making it difficult for you to stand straight. Honestly, you just want to curl up into a ball and cry. “He’s left it all out ready for you to pick up, though, in his room.”

“Great.” As you turn your back on Jimin and head to Taehyung’s room your lips purse tightly together in an attempt to hold back all the emotion you feel, your throat burning from the tears you’re keeping at bay Was it really too much for you to ask just for him to be here? Just to see him one last time?

You find your things just as Jimin had said, neatly packed away into a small cardboard box sat in the middle of Taehyung’s bed. Your senses are assaulted the moment you step into the room, the fresh scent of his deodorant transporting you into memories of being snuggled in his arms, tucked under the same quilt that lies stop of his mattress now.

You don’t linger to check that all of your belongings are there; it’s too hard to stay even a moment longer. Hastily scooping the box into your arms you retreat, back into the living room where Jimin is waiting for you with an extra cup of coffee sat next to his, and it’s not until you see his eyebrows raise at the sight of you that you realise you’ve got tears spilling down your cheeks.

Uttering your name, Jimin rises from his seat and takes the box from your trembling hands, taking you in his arms without delay.

“Don’t cry,” he coos, pulling you close to his chest, a hand coming to rest on the back of your head as you press your face into the soft blue fabric of his sweater. “Don’t cry over him, please. He doesn’t deserve it.” Jimin’s kind words only make you sob harder, and you cling onto him as hard as you can, absorbing as much warmth and affection as he’s willing to grant you.

Eventually Jimin lures you back to the couch, sitting you across his lap to continue whispering consoling words as he pushes your hair back from your face and wipes your tears, and all the while he does it there’s look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. It’s soft and warm, full of affection, and it eases the fierce aching in your heart to a dull - more bearable - throb.

“If you’d been mine, noona, I’d have never let you go.”

Jungkook

“Are you sure I look ok?”

Namjoon smiles indulgently down at you from his far greater height, though you don’t see it whilst you’re so focused on smoothing out the length of your skirt and patting down your top, making sure everything’s in place. Affectionately, he tucks a strand of your hair behind you ear to grab your attention, touching the tip of his finger to the underside of your chin as you look up, anxiety plaguing your pretty eyes.

“You’re beautiful, baby,” he reassures softly, and though you might not believe him his compliment still makes you smile, a blush colouring your cheeks as your fingers entwine. “Ready?” You nod nervously, lips pursed as Namjoon firmly presses the doorbell with a cheerful bounce on the balls of his feet.

You’re not sure how Namjoon isn’t sick to death of you by now. You’re forever a big ball of nerves, forever doubting yourself, forever just that little bit unsure of almost everything you do, but somehow he doesn’t seem to mind - always there to patiently reassure you whenever you might need it.

His consistency within your life was breath of fresh air after what had happened between you and Jungkook, and you hadn’t realised how much you’d needed someone like Namjoon until he’d turned up at your doorstep a few weeks after that unfortunate encounter in the supermarket, still full of apologies and nervous laughter. You’d thought he was just trying to make you feel better at first - a pity case, nothing more - but as the days and weeks had rolled by Namjoon had come to spend progressively more and more time by your side. You’d fallen for him hook, line and sinker before you’d even realised it was happening, and never once looked back since.

The door in front of you is yanked open, and the music that’d sounded so muffled before is now almost deafeningly loud. The party inside already looks to be in full swing, and judging by the pink flush spread across Jin’s cheeks and upper chest you’d guess the alcohol is flowing pretty freely too. He greets the two of you with a shout and a hug, bubbling over with enthusiasm, and you find yourself being tugged inside and over to the drinks table before you can even say a word in greeting. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Namjoon following behind with an amused look on his face and his hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

“Help me,” you mouth soundlessly as Jin starts to ladle you out a glass of god-knows-what that’s occupying the punch bowl, chattering endlessly about… something or other. You can’t really hear him over the music, and you can’t hear the laughter Namjoon’s shoulders are shaking with as he watches Jin actually feed you your first mouthful of punch, very nearly tipping it down the front of your dress in his eagerness to share his creation.

Namjoon’s about to come over and save you when he’s cruely waylaid by another one of his friends - Taehyung. He shoots you an apologetic smile as he’s dragged off into an adjoining room and you smile meekly back, trying to ignore the rising panic that threatens to overwhelm when you realise that you’re suddenly alone, Jin having wandered off to go and play host elsewhere whilst you were distracted, too.

You busy yourself as best you can in Namjoon’s absence, inspecting the variety liquors on offer and smiling at how most of the bottles are already half empty. Namjoon was right; this is going to be a messy evening, no doubt. Of course, there’s also an assortment of obligatory chips and dip available for sampling, and you help yourselves to those, too, whilst you look around for anyone else that looks familiar.

Maybe Yoongi’s here? He’s always good company, even if he doesn’t really say much.

“Hey.” You jump at the close proximity of the voice that suddenly comes from behind you, and the mouthful you’ve just taken threatens to spill back out when you whirl round and see Jungkook standing there, smiling shyly.

You’d almost think he looked cute if it weren’t for you finding him so utterly loathsome. You say nothing as you choke down your chips, chasing them with a generous gulp of punch, and you’d almost hoped that when you’d re-open your eyes he wouldn’t really be there. He is, of course, touching his hair nervously, jaw clenching under your cold stare.

“I.. I know I’m probably the last person you want to see,” he begins, having to shout above the music because you won’t let him lean close enough to you to be able to speak at a normal volume and still be heard. “I just wanted to say… look- I- I’m sorry. I was really immature and I shouldn’t have- it was really shitty of me and… I’m sorry.”

You stare at Jungkook as he peeps back up at you from under his bangs, bottom lip caught between his teeth Does he really think that this’ll make it all better? Some half-assed apology a few months too late, spoken down at the floor rather than to your face? Granted, it took some guts to actually come and speak to you at all, and you know if you were the bigger person you’d accept his apology and allow yourself to move on, but you’re not quite there yet. Your pride is still too hurt, not yet sufficiently recovered from the knock to your self-confidence to able to let this go.

You wish you could take a picture of the look on Jungkook’s face when you throw the remainder of your punch all over him, soaking through his white t-shirt and staining it red.

“Go fuck yourself, Jungkook.”

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