suicide notes 「 jungkook 」

∥ XIV. SAVIOR ∥

하늘이 파래서 햇살이 빛나서
the sky is blue and the sun is shining,
내 눈물이 더 잘 보이나 봐.
so my tears are even more noticeable.
왜 나는 너인지? 왜 하필 너인지?
why is it you? why did it have to be you?

I laid in my bed Sunday morning, dreading going back to school the next day. I just wished the bed would swallow me whole so no one could get mad if I ditched because, "It wasn't my fault; it was the bed's."

I groaned, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face into my pillow. I'd been spending way too much time with Taehyung lately.

I was stressing over the assignments I'd been putting off for the past few days, but even as I stared at all my materials across the room ready to be used, I couldn't find any motivation to get started.

Because what was even more worrisome than school for me at this point was my dark-haired neighbor, and the lingering feeling that felt too unfamiliar, too much like how everyone describes falling in love to possibly be comforting. I'd told myself time and time again that I shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't fall for him, but that was much easier said than done.

Even though he was difficult most of the time, and often rude, I couldn't help but think that I only felt complete when I was with him. Every time we would walk, we would be so close that our arms were brushing. It seemed like the further we got to know each other, the further we walked together, and the closer we walked. But it was never satisfying for me. I came to realize that no level of closeness to Jungkook would ever be enough for me.

It may seem strange, but... Sometimes, when we walked so closely, I wished we would just merge into one being so that I could see things from his perspective more easily, and be more effective in helping him like I'd wanted to from the start. And maybe, just maybe, if he could see himself through my eyes, how I admire him so, he would finally see how worthy he is of happiness.

I wondered if he felt the same about me, even though I knew deep down that it didn't really matter either way.

No matter how much I kicked myself, shouted at myself to stop, I couldn't help but wonder if these feelings were somehow reciprocated.

I knew I wanted him.

I wanted him to be mine. I wanted to be his.

I could see this just as plain as day, how I craved his touch and how my breath would hitch when he would give it to me.

But I wanted more.

And if I took more, I'd want even more.

This boy was more than a drug to me. Now that he was in my life, I didn't know how I'd ever lived before him, even though things must've been a lot simpler and easier back then. I didn't know; I couldn't remember. It was like all of my memories before our first meeting were slowly fading and he was becoming the center of my most prized recollections, plaguing every other one until they died off and he was the only one standing. I had purpose before him, I thought, but now that he had become my purpose, my reason for staying stable at times, I didn't know how I could be without him, for what is a life without purpose?

How would I even survive without him?

I thought I was trying to save him. I thought that was the whole point here, to save him before he could destroy himself, but... It seemed clear to me now that he was saving me, too.