Resurfacing The Ice//Jikook

First Line of Defense

Jungkook's POV 

"Who was the first person you kissed?" I ask, my confidence immediately leaving me. 

His chocolate eyes shoot up to meet mine, but they quickly change from shock to anger. He huffs out some air; his mouth  twitching slightly as he tries to form a sentence. 

"I-I..." He fumbles for the right words. He straightens his posture and tugs at the ends of his long sweater sleeves with a smooth flick of his wrist. "I don't see the importance of you knowing something like that." He says quickly, his nose in the air. I watch him turn quickly on his heel to leave, but I catch his wrist, jolting him to a stop. 

"Oh c'mon, hyung." I say as gently as possible, smiling at him softly. "Was she so bad you can't even tell me her name?"

"I...I," I watch his eyes as they spit flames down at my hand which holds his tightly. "I don't want to talk about this anymore." He says quietly and can't seem to meet my gaze as he tugs his hand free and strides away from me, not looking back. I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything...he was just opening up to me. 

The oven beeps as it reaches 375 degrees. 

Jimin's POV

10 minutes later

I stand in the shower, my arm pressed against the wall for support, my head resting on my forearm. The cold water makes me shiver slightly; radiating waves of goosebumps all over my body. Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to say anything? I just wanted to get mad at him, go practice, point out all his flaws, come back to my room, take a cold shower, and forget about today. Why did he have to smile at me; make me remember how his eyes turn up into little crescents, and the apples of his cheeks glow pink...how sincere he looks? Why did he have to fill my stomach with all kinds of undiscovered feelings that I've never looked for-I've never asked for?! 

I wash off my sweat covered body and aching limbs, watching as the tips of my fingers turn slightly blue, listening to my shivers fill my giant bathroom with an unnerving echo. The cold water is like sad music. It doesn't really help, and you don't necessarily like it, but it feels wrong any other way. If you were to listen to any other genre of music while being sad it would seem totally out of place...since I'm cold, as a person,....it seems inappropriate to envelope myself in anything other than cold. 

I can feel the snowflakes melting as they hit my body, covering me in miniature icy puddles that chill me to the bone with each wisp of dead, December wind. The metal hangs like a noose around my neck and brands me with a sign of failure that I've never received before; it's fresh to my skin and welts my flesh, damages my public image. I know the winners...not them as individual people...but each of their names. I want to scream that it wasn't fair. Beg for a rematch...but no matter what...this 6th place metal is mine, and it chokes me. 

I have such mixed feelings about the events which have torn me apart and left me open to the cold air, the life from me slowly draining. My grandfather didn't see it...he couldn't have. He doesn't know that I lost...doesn't know how I let him down...and yet, I have a sick feeling, an imagined memory, that plays over and over in my head. He was in the hospital when his heart finally gave out, and I can see his eyes...those deep, sad, brown eyes filled with hope as he knows he will never know the score; knows that he will never know what my outcome will be, but he still has all the confidence in the world for me, he doesn't stop cheering for me inside of his worn out, croaking heart.

My tears freeze into icy streams as my imagination tells me what really happened.

His eyes...those damn eyes! The same eyes I have.....they looked onward and always hoped for the best. Those still, quiet eyes, full of love and loyalty that I would never see again! Those eyes that hit me with jarring warmth that can never be replaced...imprisoning me in the frozen waste land of the public eye, leaving me alone with my silent, destitute family. How could you leave me alone, grandpa? Why...why did you have to go right before? Didn't you know that routine was meant for you?! Didn't you know that if I skated before you had gone everything would've been fine?! You're so selfish, grandpa! So selfish to leave me here in this cold place without anyone to warm me, and hold me...how am I suppose to survive...