"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to steady your racing heart.
"Hi," Jungkook said unbothered by your question his voice low and smooth. "Do you remember me?"
You straightened keeping your posture stiff. "I remember," you replied coolly.
...
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Jungkook's POV
I slammed the door behind me, the sound echoing through the empty apartment. I leaned against the wall, my head throbbing, and I realized I was drunk again. I cursed under my breath, kicking the wall before stumbling into the kitchen, my movements clumsy and uncoordinated. The alcohol burned, but it didn't drown out the rage, the frustration, the shame that churned inside me.
I didn't realize how long it had been since I last saw her. Two weeks, or was it three? Time seemed to blur together, the days and nights filled with alcohol, sex, and anything else I could use to. Alba was gone, transferred back to the front desk, and no amount of pleading or arguing with Namjoon hyung had convinced him otherwise.
And now, here I was, alone and drunk, trying to forget the way she had made me feel. "Damn you." I hissed, my voice slurred. "Damn you, damn you, damn you!"
I staggered back into the living room, collapsing on the couch. My thoughts drifted back to the night when I'd almost given in, almost crossed the line. But I had stopped, hadn't I? I had pulled away, hadn't taken advantage of her. But even as I thought it, a nagging voice in the back of my mind reminded me of the things I had done, the things I had said.
The memories flooded back, unbidden and unwanted, and I shook my head, trying to banish them. I didn't want to remember the way I had humiliated her, the way I had used her. I didn't want to remember the pain in her eyes, the tears on her cheeks.
But I couldn't stop myself, the guilt and shame gnawing at me. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I whispered, the question echoing through the empty room. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Jungkook?"
The answer was simple, really. I was a selfish bastard, a coward. I was afraid of the way she made me feel, the way she challenged me, and I had lashed out, hurting her in the process. But even as I tried to justify my actions, the shame and guilt only grew.
"Damn it, damn it." I muttered, my voice breaking. "Fuck, sweetheart, why couldn't you just stay away?"
Why couldn't I have stayed away? Why had I let myself get so close, so invested in her? And why had I pushed her away, when all I wanted was to be closer to her? I didn't know, and as the alcohol dulled my senses, I didn't care. I just wanted the pain to go away, the memories to fade.
