He was tired.
His wife, fucking and fooling around.
While him, he's serious.
He's fucking serious.
He's willing to take any blows, but enough is enough.
12 PM, his bags were packed. After hearing Jimin fucking another man at the couch, everything felt so numb. He finished writing letters--
On second thought, why was he writing anyway? As if Jimin would care. He lost all his sanity, his blood is cold, but he can feel his heart slowly losing its beat, it's rhythm.
He picked his bag up,tied his laces and marched to the front door.
He turned around one last time..
Fuck you, Jimin.
Fuck you and your fake I love you's.
He rested his hand upon the knob, seconds away from dropping everything--
"Kookie?"
He nearly jumped upon hearing his wife's voice, the same sweet voice he heard when they exchanged vows.
He didn't answer.
"Are you leaving me?"
"Kookie, you can't leave me!"
Jimin's eyes were bloodshot, dark circles around his eyes. He looks drugged, literally drugged.
"Kookie, please. I love--"
"Fuck off Jimin. FUCK. OFF."
Jimin was surprised to his husband's answer. He doesn't know what to say.
"Who's gonna cook for me? Who's going to be my--"
"Go find a fucking maid, Jimin. I ain't no maid for you to step on."
"But--"
"Shut the fuck up! I'm tired of your lame excuses!! I'm tired of you torturing me everyday! I'm tired of you, being a fucktoy for every guy, Jimin! I'm tired of your fucking remarks, I'm fucking tired!"
And in a flash, Kookie held the knob and quickly went out, a taxi waiting for him.
"Fuck you, Jeon Jimin."
As he stepped inside the taxi, a hopeless Jimin sat, crying.
And as the taxi drove its way to the airport..
It signaled Kookie's holiday.
