"Life is about give and take; you know this better than anyone; the deal is clear, either you take an in, or war it shall be.
"It's indeed give and take, so why do I feel like the only one who gives without receiving anything in return?"
"Because th...
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Taheyung did not sleep that night.
Life is a course that can change in the blink of an eye. Moments of agony become unconditional happiness and vice versa. Taehyung was introduced to a moment of vengeance and wished that happiness would soon follow.
But you slept that night. In fact, you slept so well that you questioned your morals. Slept with a mind in peace, knowing full well that behind you was a man who refused to watch people take away what you loved - and who you loved.
His words were a gamble you liked to bet on. A grand. Two grand. Fuck that. A million. It was all justified. All a bet that carried a win in its fold, and shit, gambling is so addictive. You loved it, especially when it was based on a game that has, as a rule, demolishing fortresses.
Killing kings.
But the king was still alive. Stood in perfect health and wore a classic black mohair suit with a baby blue shirt. Taehyung reckoned that for a man suffering from a critical heart condition, he was doing better than many young lads in perfect health.
"Your wife hasn't shown up for days." Old Kim began, voice so cheerful that Taehyung thought of several excuses to get out of the office, "I hope it's for the right reason; tell me you nailed something once. Prove you're useful. It will help me consider you a man."
Taehyung weighed the options and grinned wryly. If the situation had been different, he would have run to show how useful he was. Would have overexerted himself and gone so far, stoop so low, just to get some recognition. Figured that nothing would change an already solidified opinion - all thanks to you, because of the way you gave him the cold shoulder despite everything he'd done, and because of the frigid comments you dropped here and there - so he decided that the vision of a picture was subjective.
Different angles, different points of view, different opinions. Nothing substantial.
Just the mechanism of a completely normal - in its own abnormality - world.
If thoughts could hurt, you'd be dead by now, just from the resentment he had towards you. Didn't came easily, mind you. It took a perfect backdrop and the memory of every wrong thing you did to him. But even though he took care of you while you couldn't give your body what it needed, tended to your needs when no one cared, rested by your side until sleep took over your tear crisis, he found the time to collect all those in a little jar named after you.
But if you'd dwelled on your thoughts as you followed him sneakingly into his room after he'd left yours, you'd have seen how much contemplation he went through before effectively adding another nasty reason to keep you at an arm's length. If you had opened the door just once, you would have seen him wash down the brooding with alcohol; if you had entered the room and made it to his bed and asked what was wrong, he would have told you that your unrevised words made him feel bad in every nuance.
