Trouble ; Kim Taehyung

(Eunsol)

Saturday | 11 : 28 p.m.

August 7th

    I squint at this magazine that has nothing but skinny women. The world changes when you become older, huh? Why the heck do people have to starve themselves to become pretty or beautiful in the eyes of society. If society were a person it would be blind as fuck and to be honest just a plain shitty as bitch. It's face would be ugly. Even uglier than Taehyung's ass which is now in my room making its way toward me. His back straight, face expressionless like a soldier in camp.

"What do you want, you ass?" I cuss in pure irritability.

"You" He makes a weird serious but not so serious face. And because it's Taehyung, to be safer, I choose the not serious part of his expression.

"Ew. That's plain bullshit" I make a vomiting motion but I stop immediately when I hear him speak. 

"I don't give you any of that, well . . . at least not till you give it to me first" He winks at me, making my skin go bumpy like a stone road from the goosebumps.

    He sits on my bed three feet away from me, which also, from a lying position, makes me sit up tall as if I were the Eiffel Tower being stared at by a billion pair of eyes. I stand on guard not letting even a spec of dust land on me.

"What? Are you that Chicken now?" He hitches up one side of his lips.

"No! Now get out you jerk! Normal people don't come in someone else's room just to piss the shit put of them!"

"You know I'm not normal, right?"

"You Son of a goddamn bitch! You annoy me so much!" I holler, emphasizing it word per word.

    Someone from downstairs shouts loud enough for it to come busting in through the closed door of my room, "Why is there so much cursing! If you guys don't stop and come down within ten minutes we're leaving without you!"

    Taehyung sighs heavily and turns away to stand up rigidly, "Get dressed, we're eating lunch out" He reaches for the knob when suddenly I remember something.

"Yo, Do you remember that picture Jin took on your seventh birthday?"

A shiver runs through his spine, "Don't remind me"

    It's my turn to smirk. "I found a copy lying under the couch and 'preserved' it" I take the carefully laminated picture out of the right inner corner of my drawer to shove into his face.

    He tries to grab it but I pull it right back just before he could even feel it slide on his skin. He drives into a panic which makes it even more fun for me. I'm glad that one piece of paper could break his sad face and turn it into a less intimidating expression. It's nothing near likable but if I were to judge it, I'd say it's okay-ish. Somewhat.

"Give it to me right now, woman!"

"No!" He tries to tackle me on my bed but I go swooshing off to the balcony. He traps me there, blocking the way in, which also happens to be the only way out, with his broad shoulders and long arms.

"Of all the hands in this house, it just had to fall into yours" Annoyed, he slams a fist by the sliding door's frame. Suddenly, we go quiet and silence seeps into the intensity of the air we breathe. I'm terribly astonished at the face he is making. It doesn't only reach the coldest parts of my heart but it hits me hard enough that at this point I am holding back hot tears slowly building up at the back of my eyes. The emotions his eyes are trying to emitting isn't something I'd call a joke. It's intense, like it could burn right through me. It's like a batter mixed of worry, regret, loath, and torture.

    His eyes went grey to black, then black to grey, and then back to brown. I could see his chest go big as he takes in a deep breath. He tries to say something, leaving his lower jaw hanging, but when he gains back realization, he clenches it fast and turns away. He makes his way to the door and before turning the knob he let's out a vibration from his throat that echoes out in my ears

"I'm." He pauses like he's hesitating. Which is probably and most likely the case.

    I didn't know that a back could be warped in such loneliness till this point in my life. Pins and needles poke at my feet as the calmness of my heart is disturbed. It feels like all these strong emotions are directed toward me as though being accused. My heart is then ripped to pieces as he walks out of the door and before closing it says, "I'm really hurt"

    My heart drops to my stomach and the picture in my hand is set free which blows off with the wind like it's part of the colony. I stand quiet. I stand alone. I stand dumb-founded and in ashes from the words that I just heard.

    The tone in his voice plays over and over again like it's a record from the nineties. I hate those kind of songs but it somehow ends up replaying in my head for at least a week.

Masked guilt creeps from behind me as I carry my feet weighing heavier than anchors from the Navy.

*

    Everyone doesn't notice the 'thing' that's going on with me and Taehyung because they are all busy complaining about their hunger, well, except for Jin of course who stays obedient and silent, tucked in his favorite modernly casual blue blazer. I could say the same for Yoongi who seems tired enough not to care about anything at all, not even the annoying complaints. If he wasn't, then he would've probably said something along the lines of, You should be grateful that we're even waiting for food or something like, you guys have been hungrier before, why care to complain now?, but he's tired so he stays in his chair, eyes half open like he could fall into a slumber any minute now. Setting that aside, to finally conclude, Yoongi is tired enough that he even manages to stay oblivious to the growling of his own stomach.

    The next topic I want to cover is definitely about how I am going to die if this continues. By this, I mean the look Taehyung is giving me making me feel like I deserve to be buried under a three islands of snow, alone. He is clearly stabbing me with his eyes, how could anyone not notice?

    I mean to begin with, I don't even know why he's giving me this treatment. I want the usual Taehyung back. The Taehyung who enthusiastically bickers with me and annoys everyone around him. Not that I'm complaining, it's just that this Taehyung is sluggishly and also 'silently' sitting on the table. His hair is all flowy and messed up but it still looks dazzlingly attractive. Instead of picking that observation and labeling it as nice, I'd rather, how do I say this. . . label it as disturbing.

    Within a split second, The pitiful look on his face, which I could sense because I was born weird, suddenly decides to turn arrogant. The guilt in me soon takes off which is now replaced by intimidation. Then things are all set aside. I turn my head slightly enough so I could return his gaze and hold it. I guess after what feels like forever, I'm not sure if we're having a moment or a staring contest.

This is just great!

Hungry. Annoyed. Confused.

    Those are the three feelings that fill every atom in my body right at this very moment. A little more and they just might explode.