Love is half

22

It was snow storming, and the city was as white as rose. The snow has lasted longer than usual, and kids at the park were glad to be outside once more, showering with the snow flakes. The balcony door of Jungkook's apartment was slightly ajar, and his skin prickled in the light breeze of cold.

He felt naked everywhere, his ankles were out of the comforter and hands are patting next to the empty spot. He had not been so naked all winter, it had been far too cold to wear sleeveless let alone shorts. The memories of last night fades and goes around his mind like the blanket pooling around his shoulder, the bandaged cut on his shoulder stings slightly when he moves. Eyes tight shut, he lays down and keeps his eyes closed. Winter is cold but the nakedness in his skin and emptiness in his mind is colder. Taehyung's absence is coldest.

Jungkook faintly remembers few things that happened in the middle, like the whimpering he had let out when memories played around his head like mantra, but he also remembered a hand patting his head, the small of his back, through the blurriness and darkness, he has noticed the outline of Taehyung kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed, his mouth never stopped moving and he kept talking, and praising.

Jungkook just watched him with muffled ears and between those blurry vision and warmth, he had fallen asleep.

But the absence of Taehyung doesn't surprise him. He has expected this, but still can't fight the queasy uneasiness bumping with his chest and stomach, it's like, he doesn't understand why and he doesn't want to admit it is the feeling of disappointment.

His eyebrows raises when his eyes lands on the material resting on the nightstand, leather brown jacket and pair of dark socks scrunched up together into a knot.

Then his eyes lowers and his heart stops a bit.

And He watches him. Other than the unsteady wind and prickling of cold on his skin, he observes Taehyung lying down on the carpeted floor, his head barely resting on his bicep that he has under his head, and Jungkook is just speechless, a little fuzzy too because it seems like he is dreaming.

Taehyung's limps were still slender, body uncomfortably resting there as if the carpet is the only spot exists in Jungkook's apartment. His chest moves and he sounds asleep in deep, chest falling beneath his shirt as he breathed. His face, too, has built firmer, and his shoulders were broader than they had been.

Jungkook doesn't what to say or how to react, so he just stares.

Taehyung's hair are like the lightest cotton during winter, lighter and brighter than the snow itself, tousled crowns. Jungkook leans forward to look down, on the floor. Hair lit like honey even without the sun, and within it, glints of his olive skin. The softest hair Jungkook has seen, and it blows gently from the wind entering through the gap of the door.

This is the first time he is really seeing the Taehyung he saw when he used to love him.

It is no lie that Taehyung is the most handsome boy Jungkook has seen. He shined the brightest in his eyes when they were together, Jungkook admired him like he hung stars in the sky for him. Taehyung's hair used to remind him of gold, the gold Jungkook never wanted because he thought the older's presence was worth more than any gem. And he thought, they were beautiful little story together, him being the moon who only sparkled when the sun presented it's beauty, skin was the color of just pressed olive oil, smooth as polished wood, and without the scars.