He is a phenomenon and he doesn't know it.
Beautiful. Intelligent. Lovable.
His words make him fall in love with him and yet his overthinking self does not comprehend it.
The situation that they are being put in. A teacher. A student. Makes it ha...
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"Who's he?" He asks, hand gripping the ice cream cone as we sit inside of my apartment.
I look at him for a moment.
"Who's who?" I ask him and he looks at me, eyes squinting as his gaze meets mine and he scoffs.
"The dude you've been ignoring as you saw him yesterday and you fucking panicked. Then he panicked when he saw me. I swear to god he was pale when he saw me. Am I that fucking ugly?" He asks and I scoff at his question. Of course not. He was Min Yoongi for god's sake.
Gulping I look at the television, "He's someone." I whisper and he blows raspberries.
"No shit, you know for a second there I thought that he was a whale." Yoongi rolls his eyes and he looks at me in the eyes again.
"Do you like him?" He asks and I bite my lip.
"No," I tell him he nods.
"Do you love him?" It makes me pause, the taste of the question suddenly becoming acerbic.
It makes me dither for a moment. If I'm honest I didn't expect him to ask me that.
Do I love you?
Maybe it's a crush.
This silly thing that I call crush has yet so much to wane and every day it becomes something greater.
Of course, I do. We've only kissed two times. We see each other every day. We haven't spoken much in the last two weeks, ever since that one day in the hallway of his house.
"No," I tell him and he nods, standing up and going to throw the napkin in the trash.
"Let's go to the club. I'm leaving on Monday."
"I'm a minor." He shrugs.
"I have a friend." He says and I roll my eyes at the line. But I am not surprised, he has been going to clubs since the age of seventeen so it isn't that surprising.
"Okay," I tell him and he nods before walking away into the spear bedroom. I stay seated where I am, looking out the window. Thinking about him and only he seemed to be in my head. His voice. His little monologues, his stare.
Did I love him or did I just love the idea of him?
I don't know.
I don't think I ever will.
And somehow I find myself at his doorsteps in the middle of the night. Biting my lip in almost anger as tears trail down my cheeks because he never leaves my mind.
And I hate it.
It's killing me.
He opens the door, almost naked only brief covering him and he looks at me. Then behind me to the garage where there aren't any cars, just his.
