Wingman

Confessions

Chapter Thirty

Many thoughts go through your head. Many. Many good ones, many bad ones. The bad cloud faster stronger, thunder overpowering sprinkles of rain. The fear felt as a child amongst pillows facing dark skies, now hits you when staring to his eyes. When Taehyung says, "Hi," all comfort disappears.

"Why're you here?" Your eyes no longer look at his.

The man doesn't speak. He tries to catch your gaze, in a continuing loop. Glancing at your coloured lips and blackened lashes, the man asks, "May I come in?" with the brightest smile he can muster.

It falls short. You shake your head. "Wha..." your hair flips off your shoulder, your head tilts, and you blink up at him with masked vulnerability. "Whatever you wish to say can be said in the hall. I need to lock up soon, I have someone to see."

Someone to see...Taehyung blinks at your jumpsuit, your shiny shoulders, your hair, your heels, and back to the first; lips and eyes. Your eyes. He stares long and sees the discomfort cross features as a shift propels below your feet. Heels clank.

"A date?" he asks, voice blurry.

"What do you need?"

"I wanted to talk..." Taehyung sighs, "If you had time, but I guess, I guess you don't."

"I don't."

"I'll uh," the boy smiles sad, "I'll just come by later maybe? When you're done with your...date." His tone darkens with the last word, hollowing out his clogged throat by swallowing harsh.

"I don't want you to come back." His eyes dart to yours that fall quickly. It's like you try to be brave, strong, and hard-headed. Preparing yourself from halting a falter, you ease into looking up again. "...I told you before. I don't want to hear from you anymore."

Taehyung stares. "I gave you that. I gave you that time thinking you were right," he stands straight in his spot now, "...that I'm no good for you. But I can't. I can't end things the way they did."

"Well you did, you ended it."

His lips twitch. Taehyung drifts in pain when you move away from the door. There's hope that collects in him to think, maybe you allow him in because of the willing words that leave you both. No, not the case. You turn your back to him and walk to the table to grab your phone. How your shoulders sulk next show the man how eager you are to find an excuse to leave.

"He not here yet?" Taehyung closes the door behind him, hands shuffling in jean pockets as he walks closer to the couch.

You don't reply.

The boy stares at the skin of your back. His eyes travel down your hips, ass, and legs. Then gazes scoot back to your head, never going down again. "You look beautiful," he breathes, to which you reply with disbelief.

You face him. Expression reading the urgency you feel. Done. Your heart races and you don't like it. "We can't do this, you can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Say these things as if it's okay for you to do so!" Your voice cracks near the end, head starting to pound in equivalence to heart.

"I'm sorry."

"That's all you always say."

His heart breaks, hands relaxed within the holds of his jeans. "I mean it when I say it," he whispers. When you blink back tears and shake your head, the atmosphere behind eye-contact no longer met sets him off. "I do, I mean it every time I say it. Believe me."

"Taehyung," your eyes sting, mind rings. There is a lot of strength that goes into your words next, "I can't do this right now. I really can't, I'm leaving as soon as he com—"