Roses // K;th

Twenty Three.

Taehyung's POV.

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the slow, rhythmic melody of rain tapping against my window, a common practice that has been taking place more frequently these past few weeks.

Today's guidance counselor visit did anything but give me guidance to help me achieve the goal of leaving the vast void of my troubles, a goal that was difficult to grasp, what with Rose not being by my side anymore.

In fact, that was what was keeping me awake at this very moment, paranoia. I was paranoid about Rose and how she was feeling. I was paranoid about how she was holding up and how things were going in her life. I was paranoid that she had already moved on to someone else. I was paranoid that she had labeled me as a player who wasn't worth her time, as he would only break her heart and toss it in the bin full of other's hearts that had been torn away from their body, some still pulsing and holding onto some invisible thread, an idea that everything might work out in the end.

I was paranoid that this thread was connected to Rose and I, and that the scissors of distance and life were snipping away at it, fraying the fabric, damaging the material that was once promised unbreakable, now regarded as a simple thread.

In truth, I was never a player. Never was one, and, hopefully, will never be one. I despised those who wasted girls like that, toyed with their emotions like they were machines that, when fed with kindness and loving coins, would be rewarded with prizes of intimacy.

When I was younger, I lived in Busan, in a small suburban town that held apartment buildings that were conjoined to one another, and few houses for those who had a sum of extra money that most of the residents of Busan did not have any accessibility to. I would always be outside playing in the puddles that were freshly poured onto the concrete sidewalk by the clouds that came rarely, my small body covered in a blue and white striped long-sleeved shirt, and a white jacket with blue plaid patches on each space for the elbow. Even though the weather was mostly warm in the spring season, I always strived to stay warm in a pair of denim skinny jeans and cream-colored Sperry's, which were always marked with dirt or grass stains, a result of my never-ending explorations of the outside world, much to my mother's dismay, who was in charge of doing the household laundry. An elderly woman who lived across the street, who I liked to call Mrs.Hopkins, as she was from America originally but had moved to Busan out of fascination for Korean culture, always waved and put on a big smile whenever she saw me outside, rain or shine, splashing in the puddles, manipulating daisies to make interlinked crowns, or enjoying the sweet taste of a cherry lollipop, revealing a gap between the two font teeth of her mouth, which was often coated in layers of purple lipstick.

One morning, I was outside, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the sidewalk, twisting and bending together flowers to make a crown, and, ironically, that day's choice of flower was roses, freshly borrowed from mother's small patch of dirt and mud that she called a "garden". I wasn't too worried about oncoming passerby, as my neighborhood was often finding itself deserted and empty, the sights of the abandoned houses, defaced with graffiti that displayed quite colorful language consuming the eyes of those who ventured into these cracked streets. The image of the abandoned houses, I assume, deterred many people from following their route to wherever they were headed through my neighborhood, sometimes walking an extra mile just to avoid what appeared to be a bad neighborhood, but held many promising souls inside it. Mrs.Hopkins wasn't in her usual spot in the window, which was odd, considering how she normally would be waving to him frantically, bright-eyed, teeth gap showing it's full self proudly in the morning sunlight.

Thunder rumbles overhead from the clouds that had, just last night, deposited the rain that made up the very puddles that I had made arrangements to splash in later that evening, perhaps after a dinner of cellophane noodles with spices and rice. Although it was a little dark outside, a product of the ominous clouds that lingered in the grey-washed sky, I wasn't concerned about heading inside to avoid possible dangers, as I was working intently on my flower crown and wasn't going to stop just minutes from when I would finally complete my work, tying together the stems in a tight knot, ensuring that they wouldn't come undone during my time wearing it, that would be just plain awkward and embarrassing if done in front of a horde of people. After all, nobody rarely passed through my town anyway, so there could be no real threats to me.