"Oh, and believe me, she was well aware of the circumstance in which she had placed herself in. For she knew that her hands were intertwined with the broken boy himself as they pranced, but that was her fault. A fault in which she decided to see the...
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09: The Mentals Act 1, scene 9
As told by Reuben
BEING FIXATED IN THE PRESENCE of nature, alone, doesn't necessarily feel as if it's a segment of my life, but rather, in an alternate universe.
Being positioned in a place where the cold air whispers against your skin and invades your nostrils gives you the healing properties of true nature and a sense of romanticism. It's different, I may add, than being in the presence of a therapist who acts as if they are able to comprehend your struggles and the skeletons in the closet.
It's been fifteen minutes, precisely, since I slapped Seokjin— by accident. Now, I'm perched on a wooden bench that is fixated outside of the Corner Café. The feeling of my legs swinging back and forth underneath me and my hands clutching the wooden panel below brings me a sense of reassurance in the night time.
In fact, I'm kinda glad that Seokjin ordered me to remove my presence from the work space. I was overwhelmed with the feelings of regret that lingered due to my sudden action or outlast of violence. When I opened my eyes to see the results of my consequences, I wanted to first apologize, give him a brief explanation that tampered the truth and not inform him of my mental state, and run out of the place and find a safe haven where nobody can find me— not even Jimin, Hyejin, or that boy.
But once again, I feel like a coward.
However, when he ordered me to leave, I should've silently protested against his wishes by continuing to stay positioned there. Instead of silently obeying, I should've continued on what I wanted to inform him of and continued working until the place closed.
Since I've become acquaintances with him, I've never seen Seokjin this disappointed and upset with me— and it terrified me.
So I've been told that I will sit outside of the Corner Café until my brother picks me up— but who the hell knows where he is currently. I'm seated outside so that I can, in Seokjin's words, "calm down" from what's ever "going on" until my brother comes and gets me.
At my age, I find it embarrassing that I'm not able to drive myself home, not saying that I don't have a license— I do, in fact. It's just that in between Jimin and I, we only have one car.
I occasionally use the car so that I'm able to reach a particular destination when Jimin is laying horizontally on the couch, a bottle of soju in one hand and the TV remote in the other— or to say, he doesn't need it at the moment. Due to the age hierarchy, he tends to take the car out more frequently and I do, and even though I'm a legal adult, the car is registered under his name.
"I'm taking it out." I can audibly hear his voice ringing in my ears, as well visually— his lips in a pout, hand angled to the side, and his hands fixated at his hips. "You have no say, Reuben. The car's under my name."
