FORLORN | JIKOOK

014 ─ bitter

Park Jimin

I woke up late that morning, which was completely understandable after the extremely late night that I had. Part of me still couldn't believe that all that happened actually happened. How could it be that the man that I loved for so long happened to be sleeping in my house, in my bed, in my clothes? I constantly wondered if it was just a long dream that I had, but based on the fact that I woke up on the couch rather than my bed, I knew it wasn't.

A lot of the morning was just me remembering the night before, thinking back to certain moments and carefully concentrating on them. My mind lingered on certain words and certain actions specifically.

Whenever I first saw Jungkook, I felt old feelings rush to the front of my mind; they were so overwhelmingly strong to the point where I nearly lost my balance. But I knew where I stood. And it wasn't with Jungkook. Though, I wanted to keep my hands on him. I wanted to hold tight because I had forgotten what it was like to for so long. I forgot what it was like to be close to Jungkook. To be engulfed in his sweet scent and his large body. I missed whenever I could hang onto his tall figure and hold him tightly, in which he protectively held me close to his chest and kissed my forehead with a smile on his lips. It was like he was proud to have me in his arms, and not any other.

His large body— his tall figure.

I missed running my fingers through his short, soft hair, and feeling the strands against my fingertips. His hair always smelled really nice, and he always smelled clean to the point where I wanted to hold tight to him forever.

His short hair.

I missed whenever he whispered little things to me, wether it was to tell me he loved me or to tell me that we had to go to work soon. It was things like that that made my skin prickle with excitement. I yearned for his closeness for so long, and I remembered whenever I would cherish it greatly once I achieved it. He was so hard to get to for the longest time. I missed whenever I would put my arms around him and look up at him into his bright eyes that glistened down at me with pure love and affection radiating from them.

Look up at him.

I missed whenever he grabbed my small hand in his large one, and carefully clasped me carefully. He held on tightly like he desperately didn't want to let go, but there was a strange gentleness in his touch that showed that he thought I was fragile— that I was special.

His large hand.

But I knew I was guilty. I felt it shivering up my spine and making my legs and head ache because I knew that what I thought and how I felt was wrong. Jungkook and I used to be together, but we weren't anymore. And we weren't going to. So, why did I remember those things?

Because the night before, I held on so tight due to the fact that I couldn't believe that,  for once, I finally could. Because my body ached whenever it remembered how much it was missing his touch, and how much it yearned for it. Because my eyes wanted to feel him— to believe that he really was real; that he really was there. But I knew that I shouldn't have. I knew what I was thinking, and it was wrong. I was wrong for what I did and what I thought.

Maybe holding onto someone wasn't so bad, but the feelings behind it were.

But I didn't love Jungkook. I used to, but my mind had moved on. I was pleased with what I had. And as much as I missed Jungkook, he needed to understand where I stood.

Right as the thought crossed my mind, I heard faint footsteps coming from the entranceway to the living room which caused me to lift my eyes up. I sat by the table in the kitchen with my palm resting on my knuckles of my right hand as I thought to myself, and the entranceway was to my left. Jungkook's figure slowly stepped out from the darkness, and he glanced up at me for a quick moment. I snapped out of my thoughts at the sight of the tired man. "I made you coffee." I pointed my finger towards the counter against the wall that was across from me before I brought my hand to my own mug. Jungkook's head turned towards the direction that I gestured to, and he held his lips together without saying anything. Not even a quiet murmur of thank you at what I did for him.