(Jimin POV)
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"Why're you so afraid of an ending?" He asked me, and I shook my head, to rid of all the thoughts in my head, resorting to numbers and equations because formulae didn't leave no space for possibility.
But probability was a concept so apparent in mathematics, and I, was trying to make words out of that.
Maybe that's why it hurt; probability was meant for percentage and graphs, but all I wanted was phrases and paragraphs.
"I'm not afraid of an ending."
"Is that why you never finish a story you've started?"
"Of course I do."
"Then why isn't it ever happy?"
"Happiness is subjective."
"That's exactly why you're not happy."
I laughed, shaking my head once more. Rain clicked against the basement windows, like the fingernails from skinny bones underneath skin, and I hooked my hand underneath the window, creaking it a tab bit open.
It smelled of wet earth, brought upon with lavender skies and a fist full of wet hair. Reminded of a certain day of wet sneakers, shoelaces lapping against the pavement in a run.
"You're not happ-- are you listening?" Taehyung called out, setting his notebook aside, pen rolling off the thick mountain of pages.
"Mhm," I nodded, pressing my mouth up against the window. "You were about to reveal to me the secrets of the universe, about to cure me of a decade old sadness," and he sighed.
"I'm just trying to say that it isn't all th-"
"Hard."
"Can you let me finish?" And he was annoyed, thick brows scrunched together.
"Go on, be my therapist," I rolled my eyes, breath fogging up the glass, momentarily a blank canvas, hiding my face.
And I wanted to see his', for three seconds while it hid mine, because I couldn't bear to see mine without his beside me.
"Fuck you."
I blinked, turning around to face him, surprised.
"What?"
"Fuck you and your poetic sadness."
I remained quiet.
He took long strides, crossing the room towards me. Pointing a finger, "fuck you and your hypocrisy. Fuck you for sitting here and moping about someone when you were the one that tossed him aside."
"You know why you're not happy, hm?" He asked, crossing his arms, his ears turning a shade of pink. "Cause you're afraid to be, you're afraid to be content for once in your life 'cause you can't handle if it fucks up. Well you know what? That's life. Being happy doesn't mean at the risk of no hurt --- it's being okay with that."
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "and I don't understand why you're not! I don't get why you'd rather sit and write about happiness when you could be out there," he pointed to the windows, "and harnessing it."
"It's not that easy," I replied.
"Shut the fuck up."
"Tae-"
He grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me, "I know, I know it's not easy," eyes staring intently, "but you gotta stop hiding, you need to stop being afraid."
