Bond Made in Hell || A TAEJIN STORY || Arranged Marriage

8

Jin

Mr and Mrs Kim leave soon. They only came to inquire after my comfort and safety, and once they were assured of it (falsely) they went away quickly enough. But I was the one giving all the false assurances, so I don't blame anyone.

Taehyung cannot leave the house for work since it's a Saturday, though I can see from the look on his face that he would very much like to. He very clearly hates me. As I clear away the tea-cups and plates from the living room table (how idiotic of me to expect my asshole husband to help) I think about how I passed out on the floor last night and woke up on my bed in the morning. Was it Taehyung who put me there? If he did, he does have some very good acting skills. And maybe he does care for me, just a little.

It doesn't matter to me whether he cares for me or not. It's not like this marriage is going to last more than a few weeks anyway. From the way we've been fighting and arguing in the very first two days since our wedding, I doubt we can last even a whole week without killing each other.

Taehyung strolls over and seats himself at the coffee table, reading a magazine. I throw him a glance out of the corner of my eye as I bustle around with the cups and plates. My parents have at least taught me the basic manners and etiquette of cleaning up after a meal, which is more than can be said for this asshole sitting here with his legs crossed over one another.

'Why are you looking at me?' He says, all of a sudden, as I pass by him.

I stop and look back at him. 'I haven't been looking at you.'

'Oh yes, you have. I know you have.'

'Really? How do you know if you haven't been looking at me all the time as well?'

He falls silent. I bite my lip to suppress a smile as I dump the dishes in the kitchen sink and return to the living room to pour myself a glass of water.

'Why are you drinking water?'

I pause pouring the cold water from the jug to the glass and look at him with raised brow. 'Why, do you have a problem?'

'Shouldn't you offer me water first? I'm your husband.'

'Husband, yes. Master, no,' I say calmly, resuming pouring the water. 'Besides, aren't we just husbands by name?'

'Can you stop saying that?'

I stare at him. 'You must be either really forgetful or bipolar; don't you remember repeating the exact same thing atleast a dozen times last night and atleast half a dozen times this morning?'

'Did you just call me bipolar?' He says, clenching his teeth. This man has some serious anger issues.

'No, I did not,' I take a seat opposite him and raise the glass to my lips. 'Stop assuming things, like you told your mother.'

'Don't bring my mother into this!' He is definitely bipolar.

'Can you just shut up and read your magazine in peace?'

His eyes darken but he fortunately shuts up and buries his face in the business magazine. I gulp down the cool water. His face appears above the magazine and his narrowed eyes watch the movement of my throat as the water makes its way down it. It makes me want to laugh and it also makes an odd sort of heat pool in my stomach, which is rather unsettling.

'What? You've never seen the working of the epiglottis before?'

'I have,' he sneered. 'I thought you were a businessman, not a bio teacher.'

'And I thought you were a CEO, not a water-drinking spy!'

'You think you're funny?' He flips the magazine shut and throws it onto the table, leaning forward, his whole attitude challenging. It doesn't faze me one bit. In my drunk state I might have been weak and cowardly, but when I am in my senses no force in the world can stop me from saying my mind. 'Yes, I am funny; it's not my fault you're not.'

He opens his mouth to say something but no words come out; he only stares at me in bewilderment and rage, as though he's wondering how such a thing can possibly happen to him. I watch him, smirking. 'Do you do this sort of thing with your lover as well?'

'Lover? What lover?'

'Your girlfriend?'

'Call her that, then. We are not living in some Victorian Age. What do you mean by 'this sort of thing' ?'

'You know. This weird thing you do. Ignoring but not really ignoring. Pretending to hate but not really hating.'

'What makes you think I don't hate you?' The frustrated and mildly amusing Taehyung is gone and the cold, tight-lipped Taehyung is back.

'Because you don't.'

'Yes, I do.'

'Why did you even agree to this marriage then?'

'I told you. My parents forced me into it same as yours, even though you seem to be enjoying it.'

I can't help scoffing aloud. 'Enjoying it? Trust me, Taehyung, enjoyment is the very last thing on my mind right now.'

'Then what's the first thing? Jeon Jungkook? Plotting how to bring down my name in new ways with him?'

I stare at him, unable to believe what I am hearing. 'Taehyung, I am sorry for last night; I was not in my right mind. But you are really crossing the line here.'

He is up in a flash, his eyes flashing. 'I'm crossing the line, am I? Well, let's see how many more lines are left for me to cross before you can give me sweet relief by presenting me with our divorce papers. I can't do it myself because of obvious reasons, even though I would really like to. So why don't you take the initiative and free me for you right now, right here?'

I look at him wordlessly. He crosses his arms over his chest in his standard style, mutters 'Typical' and then crosses the room in long strides before going into the pool-room and slamming the door shut.

I lie back on the cushions with a deep sigh. He really does hate me.

Me not knowing what the hell I just wrote: