𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐝 ● 𝐉𝐉𝐊

• 27 • femme fatale

The day came with ignominious silence and gloom.

At the house, Jin and Jimin tried to cheer you up but you still bore the weight of separation. You wished for the day to end faster just to see your art teacher again.

Joon and you still had a stiff tension crackling amidst. He'd silently read his Ikigai while you'd scroll through your phone without sparing him a glance. You knew where he came from, you knew he was right.

Your lover told you stories about the wonders of Botticelli and his works but didn't tell you that the man who created The Birth of Venus also created the Abyss of Hell. Brought to life from the gruesome descriptions of Dante's Inferno from the Divine Comedy, the Abyss of Hell punishes sinners in the most painful way. Rivers of blood, corpses walking backwards with twisted heads, unleashed torment and heaps of infuriated snakes awaited for sinners, liars, seducers and fraudsters.

You were one of them.

You're going down to the Malebolge, into the darkest bolgia for committing what you had.

Committing what is considered most pristine otherwise.

Love.

Slowly dissipating like poison, it spread from your throat to your chest. Poison ivies look beautiful. The red blossoming poison ivies feel like apples floating on a young country girl's fruit basket. Spring will arrive in its course but you prayed it would come sooner.

Cold was biting away your insides. Nothing kept you warm anymore. Not even your hot, salty tears.

Today, you'd go to school for the first time after the winter break. Your feet would push into the place as if returning to prison, where your only source of happiness had been extinguished to dust.

Showing up at school with a blotchy swollen face was your last wish. You weren't an open book but this would actually put out the fact that you had been distraught about something. No matter how much you tried, the swollen area wouldn't settle back down.

Pulling your backpack over your shoulder, you grabbed Jimin's hand and headed to the door.

"Don't engage with him at school, sweets. I want what's best for you."

You didn't reply, you didn't want to. You agree with him but you just didn't want to talk to him for a few days.

●●●

First period: Art class.

You occupied the last seat as usual and let your hair shield your face. The window was your last resort. Plains of the school ground only showed an inch of snow carpeted over the peppy flowers.

You had wished for snow but didn't know having it would take away your favorite things from your city.

A heavy presence made itself known beside you. Soon, the curtain of your hair was pulled away and there sat a grinning Kim Taehyung peeking into your corner of privacy.

His twinkling eyes, cute grin and squishy cheeks slumped down as soon as he saw your pained eyes and drained look. Sunken features devoid of the usual life your soul shines with. The constant cognizing actions eager for your beloved art class were missing, that threw a sharp jagger at his heart.

"Oh, strawberry? What happened?" he whispered and moved closer. The classic Davidoff filled your nose and you looked away. He's too close again.

The way he held your hand, soft and precious, gave solemn justice to your burning insides.

Your head shook, telling him wasn't important. And, none of his business.

"C'mon. It's okay. I'm here. You're gonna be fine. Did someone fight with you? Try to hurt you? Is something bothering you? Tell me, I'm all ears for you." A large warm hand cupped your jaw and made you look up into his siren eyes. Your hair was pushed back and he slowly massaged your swollen eyes with his thumb. "Aw, you look so damn cute."