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JIMIN's POV
The feelings of jealousy simmered within me, a confusing mix of emotions that I struggled to comprehend. Why did it bother me so much to see Taehyung talking with Y/N? Was it simply because he was making a new friend, or was there something more lurking beneath the surface?
As I stood on the set of Hwarang, there to support Taehyung in his latest project, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. Why was I here, pretending to care about Y/N's success, when in reality, I harbored nothing but disdain for her? Or did I?
"Y/N..." I called out, my voice hesitant as I struggled to find the right words. She turned around, her expression one of irritation as she furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance. "What?" she sneered, her tone laced with contempt.
I faltered for a moment, self-doubt creeping into my mind as I questioned my own motives. Who was I to tell her to stop talking to Taehyung, simply because I felt insecure for some inexplicable reason? She owed me no explanation, no loyalty. After all, she wasn't mine to claim. And that was a good thing, right? I didn't want her...did I?
"It's nothing," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper as I turned away, unable to meet her gaze. The weight of my own insecurities hung heavy in the air, a silent barrier between us that I couldn't seem to overcome.
"Weirdo," Y/N shot back, her words stinging like a slap to the face as she shrugged off my feeble attempt at conversation and continued to chat away with Taehyung. He seemed caught in the middle of something, his expression torn between concern and confusion as he glanced back and forth between us.
As I watched them interact, a bitter taste filled my mouth, mingling with the sour pang of jealousy that twisted in the pit of my stomach. Why did it bother me so much to see them together? And more importantly, what did it say about me that I couldn't seem to shake the feeling of resentment that simmered beneath the surface?
The inner turmoil churned within me like a tempestuous sea, each wave crashing against the shores of my consciousness with relentless force. Last time I checked, jealousy was reserved for those you harbored feelings for, those whose presence stirred something deep within your soul. But when it came to Y/N, the only feelings I seemed to possess were a perpetual headache, mild amusement at her antics, and a suffocating cloud of guilt and shame that hung over me like a shroud.
I couldn't shake the weight of my past actions towards her, the way I had treated her with disdain and disregard, making her the villain of a story that didn't exist. It was clear that she hadn't forgiven me, and truth be told, I hadn't even mustered the courage to apologize. We were both trapped in a vicious cycle of animosity, unable to break free from the chains of our own making.
I knew it was my fault, my own foolish pride and stubbornness that had driven a wedge between us. But even as I acknowledged my culpability, I found myself paralyzed by the fear of facing her, of confronting the depths of my own wrongdoing. Every time I thought about reaching out to her, my heart would race, my palms growing clammy with apprehension.
There was something about her sharp wit, her fiery spirit, that ignited a spark within me, a primal attraction that I couldn't quite comprehend. But then, just as quickly as the flame was kindled, it would be extinguished by the torrent of frustration that followed our inevitable clashes. She had a way of getting under my skin, pushing all the right buttons to elicit a reaction from me that bordered on irritation.
She gave me mixed feelings, a swirling whirlwind of conflicting emotions that left me reeling in her wake. And yet, despite it all, I knew deep down that I should apologize, that I owed her that much at the very least. But the words seemed to stick in my throat, my tongue heavy with the weight of my own inadequacy.
I didn't know how to bridge the chasm that separated us, how to mend the rift that had formed between our fractured souls. But one thing was certain—I couldn't continue to ignore the turmoil that simmered beneath the surface, the unresolved tension that lingered between us like a silent specter haunting the corridors of my conscience. It was time to face the demons of my past, to confront the truth that lay buried beneath the layers of resentment and regret.
