jungkook has a hard time dealing with his past...then he meets taehyung....but you know, a mere boy won't fix all his problems, right?
Taehyung finds out his boyfriend's true colors in the worst way possible, but he just wants to love.....maybe that...
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Taehyung's POV:
I sat on my couch nervously. My mom wasn't going to be home until 8pm and my dad till 11pm.
I rubbed my thighs to sooth my nerves. I've been checking my phone for an hour now along with being on high alert for a knock or doorbell. Nothing. Did he forget? He saw my message. Was avoiding me? Is he ditching me? Was he playing with my feelings? Was he joking? It didn't seem like a joke.
My mind raced at the thousands of thoughts and possible outcomes. That's until I heard a loud knock. I let out a big sigh and opened the door with a slight smile. "Hi."
"Hi, come in." I say leading him to the couch.
I anxiously sat on the couch next to him. I bit on my nail before sipping on my cup of water.
"You said you made your decison...about us." Lorenzo said scooting closer to me. He layed his hand over mine and I looked at him with wide eyes.
"Oh! Yes. I made my decison about what I want us to be." I said in a higher pitched voice.
"Well what is it baby." Lorenzo's breath could be felt on my lips. My eyes darted from place to place. Anywhere but his face.
"I...I'm.." His hand made its way to my waist causing my breath to hitch. "I'm-I'm deciding to give you a second chance." I say shutting my eyes tightly.
He chuckled before capturing my lips with his. I was surprised at first but soon melted into it. I felt full again. I had someone to call mine. Someone to call me theirs. Someone to care for.
He made his way down to my neck and sucked harshly. I gasped. I felt weird. I tried to give in the best I could.
He pulled away and looked at me with hooded eyes. "You're so pretty." His eyes fell onto my swollen lips and gripped my jaw leaning closer to my face.
I let out a small laugh.
With his grip still on on my jaw he stood up in front of me. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you?" he asked. I just looked up at him with wide eyes. I was kind of confused. "Hmm? do you?" he asked again tugging my face forward toward his a bit. I shook my head no. "You wanna find out?" His voice got deeper. It made stomach tingle. I shook my head yes. He pulled his hand away roughly and started to undo his pants. I gulped as he started pulling down his underwear.
"Lorenzo..."
"Come on, I know you know what to do."
"I- Lorenzo-"
"You love me right?"
I nodded my head yes still looking up into his eyes.
"Then love all of me."
Jungkook's POV:
I shuffled through my mom's medicine cabinet. It was always either filled or almost empty. I pushed pasted multiple white and orange bottles, knocking some into the sink, and onto the floor.
"Ding, ding, ding! Xanax." I say quietly to myself.
I pick up my mess and turn on the sink. I shook three white bars into my hand and popped them into my mouth, then cupped some sink water in my hands and swallowed.
I closed the cabinet and looked into the mirror on the front to the doors. I'm a hypocrite. I'm a fucking hypocrite. I say I hate my mother for all she's done. For who she's become. But look at me. I am her. I'm dosing myself out of reality. I'm pumping myself full of helium and trying to float away. I eat these like they aren't trying to bite back. I'm searching for love in stranger's bodies. I rather lay in bed all day smoking chronic, than fulfilling my responsibilities. I smother myself in between the thick covers and a curved mattress, hoping to become warm again. I'm falling more behind everyday. I can't look into mirrors correctly anymore. I just see fragments. I see a ghost. I see his cracked lips, pale skin, black eyes, and his dark circles that swallow his whole face. He weeps in silence every hour. He weeps over the past and future. He weeps over that inevitable fate. He questions when his future started, and when it's going to end. It was the future 2 hours ago. It'll be the future in 1 second. Everything feeds the ravenous past. Every bone, thought, tear, gasp, and pill. I want to kill my past. I want to stab in a million time in the stomach. I want to watch it bleed out all over the dark wood floor, and wash the spatters off in the shower. I want to yell at it and watch it cower in the corner terrified. I want to stuff a barrel in the back of its skull and pull the trigger. Splashing these cold walls with warm brain. Is it so bad to want the past to die? To want my past to die? No matter how high I get these thoughts always stay. They keep me bound to the ground with a thick string that rubs my wrist raw. If I had a pair of scissors I'd cut it.
