Of Wine And Pretty Strangers | k.th j.jk

02|

It felt like hours, just sitting there and staring into the cold eyes of the man with sinister intent. I noticed the glass shield that wrapped around the front of his pupils and the strings of red that laced themselves over the white. With the effect of the alcohol beginning to diminish, I could now clearly see this man—without the dim atmosphere of the barroom or the quick moment of panic and force, I could see that small mole beside his eye and that birthmark strangling the left side of his neck. I noticed his hands were pulsing with prominent veins and there was a slight rip in one of his button-up cuffs.

   I took a deep breath and pulled my legs in tighter to my chest, rejecting the proximity between us as much as possible. But the pool of red kept crawling closer towards the edges of my feet across the tiles which were once white. I nestled my face between my knees, feeling my jeans stain with the tears that consistently fell from my eyes.

   In a low, dejected voice, I whispered: "Taehyung..."

   And as if it were the first shred of light I'd seen in days, I received a reply.

   "Jungkook!" The voice was deep as the sentence was accompanied by heavy, hurried steps and a thin shadow seeping in from under the door. "Jungkook, where are you?" Immediately, I heard raucous sounds of Taehyung's kicking against the stall doors. There were more than a few stalls and with each thud, every heave of breath, the shadow I'd assumed belonged to Tae grew closer and closer. And then it was my stall. The door palpitated, followed by a loud clap of a combat boot against wood. "Jungkook, unlock the door! You're in there, right?" I wanted to speak, I yearned for the sound of my own voice screaming for his help, but it only came out as an exhale, deep and heavy. My body was limp, unable to reach out to the boy who continuously kicked against my stall door. "Jungkook, answer me." There was suddenly silence. The kicking and begging of Kim Taehyung had stopped and his shadow was still. "What... what is this?" he whispered. "Is this... blood?" I widened my eyes, casting them to the door as I watched the liquid slip into the light from within the stall. "Jungkook! Jungkook, let me in!" I wanted to let him in. But my body rejected the idea, refusing to move an inch. "Jungkook, are you okay?! Please, let me in!"

   "T-Taehyung..."

   The thuds against the door increased in volume as the door caved in with every forceful use of pressure.

   "Hold on, Jungkook, hold on!"

   Finally, the stall door gave in to the pressure and the weak lock snapped, pulling Taehyung into the confined space of blood and panic. The movement was so sudden, so immediate, his eyes widened and his feet slipped on the tiles, dragging himself into the pool of blood that laced itself over the floor. It took him a second of realisation as he lifted his head to face me. He seemed almost relieved. But then he moved his gaze to settle on the man with the gash in his forehead and the lifeless look in his eyes. And then the blood. He raised his hand to stare at a bloodied palm, a look of fear resting in his pupils.

   "Oh, my God..." Taehyung muttered, letting his hand dip back into the puddle as his sight came into contact with mine. I noticed a glass sheen engulf his eyes as he quickly pushed the door shut and scrambled towards me, his palms slipping on the wet surfaces and jeans soaking up every bit in its path. He wrapped his saturated arms around my shaking body and pulled me close to him. His hand rested on the back of my head, burrowing my face into his chest as I listened to the pulse of his heart quicken. "It's okay, baby, I'm here," he murmured breathlessly. He rocked me back and forth, keeping my eyes away from our surroundings as he hushed me, my lips quivering. "Are you okay?"

   I slowly nodded my head, feeling the material of Taehyung's sweater rub against my cheek.

   "Taehyung, he... he tried to... I didn't want to, but he... he didn't listen. Taehyung, I panicked, I was so scared..." I pressed my face closer to his quickly rising and falling chest, taking clumps of his sweater into my palms as my joints stiffened and refused to let go.