Smoke Me.

Chapter 6: Chocolate Puffs

It's been three days.

Three days since I confessed my love to him for the third time. Kissed him for the second time and touched parts of his body for the first time.

I'd be lying if I told myself that I didn't feel slight remorse for holding him down when he tried to push me away, but in a way, I was glad that I did.

The memory of his scent kept me intoxicated.

Electricity flowed through me every time I thought about the feeling of his back and chest against my fingers.

I watched him in class as a stalker would. I felt no shame every time the teacher would raise their eyebrows at me or when a classmate would notice me staring.

He covered all signs of my teeth ever making contact with his skin with makeup. His neck looked like I have never touched it. That alone annoyed me for a reason I couldn't comprehend.

I was aware that it was becoming an obsession. I told myself that I shouldn't follow him around. Even if I was perfectly content with the fact that I probably, looked insane.

Yet, I couldn't stop.

The way his body fit under mine like a glove. His soul attracted me like a light in the night. And his very presence made me more honest.

Maybe it was because I knew most of his dark sides. Maybe it was because I wanted someone that I could talk to and he's been there at the right time and place. Or maybe I simply liked him a little too much.

Whatever the reason, I couldn't eat, rest well or pay attention to anything else.

Three days ago, in that extremely early morning, he left me boiling on a high fire.

I demanded him to be mine and he just asked, "What does that mean?"

I explained every detail I could think of. My desires and normal stuff people usually do when they're dating. I bared my naked soul only for him to step over it with clean feet as he simply responded:

"We're both quite drunk, I think we should talk about it when we're sober."

At the moment, I was quite happy that he wasn't making a rash decision only to reject me later.

But the thing that dawned on me the very same day was: He's never sober.

I followed him home without even hiding and he hadn't turned around once. I wanted to use our meeting outside the school as a simple coincidence for a chance to talk and clear the smoke. But he just went inside without ever noticing me. He wasn't ignoring me either. He just never looked up.

If not being drunk is what he meant, then he wasn't drunk anymore.

He had my phone number. Hell. The class had just ended and he left without saying a word.

I was losing both faith and patience.

I couldn't figure out what he was thinking. I started considering that he had so much to drink that he has completely forgotten about it, so I waited until he sat down by the lake to walk up to him but I wasn't fast enough.

"Hi." My view was being blocked by a tall, red-haired, and boxy-smiling guy.

"Who are you?" I snapped.

"Taehyung."

"That's not telling me much."

"A friend of a friend." He shrugged.

I looked him up and down in an attempt to read him.

"Right. If you don't mind, I have to ..."

"What do you sell?"