A Flower of...Love

22- Trouble

1346 words

Third Person's POV

"What happened to your arm? And your bed?"

Jungkook's eyes adverted to the long sleeved t-shirt, which was lying on the ground, and mentally cursed himself for taking it off without thinking twice. His unhurt hand was searching for something, anything, to cover up his wounds, but quickly gave up seeing no point in doing so.

He looked back at the uninvited guest by the door, and opened his mouth to say something, only to realize there is no reason to shout at the innocent one.

"Close the door, and lock it. Please." With no other choice to choose from, Jungkook can only be honest.

Yoongi closed the door and locked it. Turning around and looking at the bloody mess in front of him, he asked the same question again.

Being honest is one thing, but avoiding the question is not necessarily being dishonest either.

"Why should I tell you?"

Yoongi blinked twice, as if a bit offended, but his glare became soft again, knowing Jungkook had all the right to ask that question.

"Right. Just...help me get out of this boredom then." Yoongi walked over and sat down on a chair, trying to ignore the red splotches painted all over the bed.

Jungkook sighed deeply, and stared straight into Yoongi's eyes.

Just say it Jungkook.

Jungkook blinked and frowned slightly, wondering what his mind was saying to him. As if answering, more thoughts came:

I know you want to. You've been keeping this in for 3 years. Finally you have someone to talk to, so do it now before you regret.

His frown got deeper. He kept this secret in for 3 years, so why spill it now? He opened his mouth to say no to his conscious, only to be shocked by the words he spat out.

"Yoongi, what is love? Tell me, is love bad? The flowers, they hurt you. But you look happy as well, when you get to call him. What is going on? Is love good? I'm confused."

As if a boulder is lifted away from his heart, Jungkook felt better instantly. However this sigh of relief was soon to be replaced by another problem, a bigger one too.

He covered his mouth with both hands wishing to stuff all those words back in but to no avail.

Yoongi closed his eyes and opened them, now wanting to look at the blood.

"Is that your plan to help entertain me? Because that doesn't seem to be working. In fact, it's giving the opposite effect." He took a deep breath and tried to keep his calm while focusing on the blood that makes him slightly nauseous. It's better than thinking about Jimin anyways.

Jungkook, knowing very well the mistake he made, muttered, "I'm sorry." That's when Yoongi couldn't take it anymore. Something in here, something about this the fact that he is locked in this house for almost a month now, drove him to the point of insanity.

Standing up, he finally let out all of his anger and frustration, "Look Jungkook. I didn't come here to listen to your story. I can very well guess that you know nothing about love assuming that you lived in this house in the middle of nowhere for who knows how long. I don't give a fuck about that. I came here with the sole purpose of curing myself, and I entered this room to make that easier. So please keep your promise and help me."

Yoongi had fiery eyes, and Jungkook stared back clearly shocked. As if feeling bad, Yoongi sighed and sat back down, going silent as he tried to avoid eye contact.

"You want help, so I should very well help you." Jungkook knew he had to apologize in some way or other to pay back for the mistake he made.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Jimin's POV

I woke up to a bang, opening my eyes to see a picture on the ground, when it should be on my bedside table.

I lifted myself up, reaching for the picture frame, only to collapse on my bed once again as a sharp pain shot through my head.

I rubbed my head as I recalled what had happened yesterday night. However there were no memories, at least not enough. All I know is that I drank with Namjoon. Others are a total and utter mystery to me.

I could call Namjoon, but he would be at work. And me working as a secretary, I don't have work on a Saturday.

I stumbled off my bed and held on the wall for support, slowly edging towards the kitchen for a cup of water. When I finally got rid of my headache, I calmed down and tried to remember what happened yesterday night. I hope it wasn't anything important, but I have weird feeling in my bones, tickling me as if telling me to remember everything.

And so I started from the very beginning.

Flashback

I looked at the clock, it wrote 11:45pm. I should be sleeping, but instead I'm here, seated on my work chair, facing a bunch of paperwork, still receiving calls from work partners, and still making cups and cups of coffee for my boss and for myself.

I looked at the mini calendar on my desk, the red crosses telling me I have only 3 days left. 3 days until I can see Yoongi again. And yet I get more stressed with every minute that passes.

I should be happy, and I have all the reasons in the world to do so, but every time my gaze drifted towards the vase of flowers, a mixture of guilt and sadness filled my heart, not a bit of happiness left in it.

I've moved those flowers of love from my home to the office, hoping that I wouldn't need to face it 24/7. But it seems to be doing the exact opposite lately with all the work I am receiving. Every time I see them, I was reminded of the harsh reality that I was the one who chose to buy flowers for the anniversary, that I was the one that bought those horrible flowers, that I was the one who started this nightmare, that I was the one who sent my own boyfriend away from myself for a whole month.

I still think about Yoongi every single moment of my life, and maybe that proves that I love him still. But with every thought comes immense pain in my heart. I love the feeling of loving someone and being loved, but love hurts me almost everyday.

I once thought it was all those flowers fault, but those flowers are the flowers of love. Without love, nothing would happen even if I get pricked. If I don't have a lover, if Yoongi didn't love me, nothing would go wrong. The wound would heal like any other.

It's all because of love.

End of Flashback

Tears trickled down my face as I realized how correct I was. Love is not as good as I think it is. And yet I am still able to love someone that much.

Flashback continue

Time passed quickly, and it's already past midnight. I still have tons of paperwork, but with all these thoughts in my mind I will never finish my work. Maybe I should take some and relax so I could work effectively again.

End of Flashback

There was more to my memory, but it was no longer important. My eyes widened as everything that happened came rushing back to my mind, lighting up the walls of my brain, and highlighting everything that I have said.

I could only of one word right now, and it's repeating in my mind nonstop.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I can already imagine Namjoon barging through the doors of the wooden house, fighting anyone that dares stand in his way and demanding to see Jin. I couldn't dare to think about the result as I grabbed my wallet and my car key and rushed out the door, slamming it shut behind me.