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00.00 a.m Jimin
"I think you're faking it."
I grimaced as I spoke, but on the inside, I wanted to laugh. Our steps were uneven, Taehyung had put all his weight on me with his arm around my shoulders, and somehow it was harder to carry him than usual. Maybe it was because I was as drunk as he was.
I had to leave the prom early to take him home, and I wasn't complaining at all. I liked the fact that almost every time his intolerance for alcohol got us into trouble, it always ended with just the two of us alone together.
When he lifted his head that had fallen on my shoulder, the innocent look in his eyes was enough to melt my furrowed brow.
"Then throw me in here and let the first stranger who comes along steal me."
"Shut up," I gave him a stern look, "I'm not sick of you yet enough to let anyone else take away."
He laughed immodestly, this was something he didn't do much when he was sober, and it was nice, it was so nice to be able to make him feel the way no one else could, to see parts of him that no one else saw.
"Will you ever get that sick of me?"
I looked at the smile that was still a shadow on his face, I couldn't remember ever wanting to look at anything so long in my life. It was a little- no, a lot too scary for me, too dangerous to stand so close to him.
It was a lot easier since I decided to stop trying to understand his feelings for me -that weren't there- and just keep loving him, but it was still scary.
At every moment, his beauty scared me that I might lose control of myself and do something he didn't expect me to do, something he didn't want me to do.
When I was just friends with him, I think that was the only thing I couldn't get used to; the dangerous closeness of his beauty.
"Don't ask questions that you already know it's answers," I finally said when I could barely pull my gaze away from his face. My voice mingled with the noise of the train on the rails that we had missed because of the stairs we couldn't move up.
He didn't speak until the stairs were over, and when we came down the stairs, this time speaking turned into the most difficult action for me.
I didn't even realize what had happened when I felt the cold marble on my back. I really didn't know how his arm had suddenly pulled away from my shoulders and settled on my body, pinning me against the wall of the station.
The corner of the sign with the train lines, which I didn't know where most of them started and ended, was digging into my shoulder, but I didn't care.
Because there was him everywhere else.
"If one day," he whispered, into my face, into my whole soul, "If you ever really get that fed up with me, don't leave without letting me know, okay?"
