RUTH❌

30. the jealousy

New day. Same old.

The bench had been exposed to the four nature elements for many seasons, likely it was older than I was. Just awhile ago, I sat down on it, feeling the slight give in the wood, any creak being lost beneath the sound of my non-terminating crying.

If I could count how many days I spent bawling seas, I'd most likely die later than I want to before I finish, and that is not an exaggeration.

The future holds nothing for me right now, and feeling so unloved on a day like today—Valentines Day—just proves it.

Every time I check social media, someone is showing off their flowers, their sneaky hotel bookings, their "surprise" vacations. There are pictures of their fancy dinners and sickly sweet public messages of affection. Not that I'm jealous considering Valentines Day is so freaking dumb it melts my mind, but I'm hopeless. Unmotivated. It's like I'm already dead, and unable to come back to life.

I truly disfavor being this pessimistic. All I want is for someone to give a damn about how I feel, demonstrate that they care in truth. I just want to feel loved.

Footsteps. Suddenly lagging in my direction were sounds of exclusive cement-clicking.

Footsteps. Ear piercing footsteps.

"They'll pass by." I told myself immediately. But those 'footsteps' did the opposite, and stopped right in front of me; my tears stopped flowing in tune.

I felt his yen presence, drank in his  glacé scent until I was drunk on it, and grew eager to leave that quickly.

The old wood of the bench then croaked, giving off the noise of a newcomer sitting on it. He sat in still quietness, and so did I.

Now, all I had to do was not budge, nor give the guy a single glare.

Don't speak to him. Don't even think about it. Shun him like he shunned you.

Be the bigger bitch.

"I know there's nothing I can say that will sound as logical as I want it to.."

I remained silent, unresponsive, sitting back in my seat and watching the birds flutter into the golden sky above the lake.

"I..I also know there are not enough words to tell you how sorry I am for what I put you through. But I am. I was being a dick before and now...I just want you back as a friend. My best friend. I miss you."

I wasn't convinced — on second thought, I didn't know if I was or not, but I did know that I didn't want to be.

I wanted Yoongi to feel shitty, as selfish as it sounds, I wanted that. So, not moving a bit, I kept staring at the lake in front of me. I wouldn't look his way or acknowledge his presence, even though he knew I was well aware of what was going on.

Wind was roaring in the great bare trees around, and through my flowing hair, as if it were some wild dark grove deep in a fairy tale land.

"...Please look at me."

I tried my best to zone him out and ignore him. Unfortunately, my tactics didn't work. I finally responded with an eye roll, "And if I look at you, what are you going to say to me? You're sorry?"

"Please." His hand hooked unto my jaw, bravely rotating my head towards him. He held up my chin with a gelid caress.

That's when we finally made the eye contact that I dreaded, despised, hated, and feared having at first, but it ended up bringing me a sense of comfort instead.