As requested by: mxnster_jr Thanks for commenting!
--------------Author
I didn't sleep last night.
But it's not like I could if I wanted.
Eventually, I find strength to get out of bed, and I force myself to shower. The hot water stings a little, but I don't adjust the temperature. There's no point.
As the water hits my back, millions upon millions of thoughts race through my mind. Some are self-hate comments, others wondering how last night would have turned out if I hadn't done what I did. But most of them are along the lines of: How could I have hurt him like that?
My love.
My soulmate.
My Jin.
I lost him, and I don't know how to get him back. He's the best thing to ever happen to me. I do truly need him; that is no exaggeration. The best way to describe him would be referring him to a highlighter: making my world a brighter place. It may be cliché, but it's the hard truth.
I turn off the water and step out into my room, not caring if I was completely naked. I put on clothes without drying myself off, a habit that drives Jin crazy. A smile appears at a memory of his scolding me for doing so.
It disappears as quickly as it appeared.
I lie in bed for several hours after that, just thinking through this. I know that I need him back in my life. I don't care what it takes. If it means giving up my life of soul, I'll do it before my heart can beat.
At exactly 11:46, my doorbell rings. I sigh, assuming it's one of the guys. Most likely Taehyung, since he and Jin are really close and talk about a lot of things. It could also be Jimin, because I know he really hates conflict and would want us to work it out as soon as possible.
I drag my practically lifeless body out of my room and head for my front door. I don't check to see who it is, and part of me wishes I had.
"Namjoon."
I blink. No way. I'm dreaming. I rub my eyes for a few seconds, but he's still there when I stop. Wake up!
"Could we talk?"
You mean...he's really here?
In the hallway stands Jin, eyes tired and irritatingly red. It seems he had been crying all night too, but the sight makes me mad. Seeing someone as precious as him in such a state makes me want to slit my own throat. I have the undeniable urge to pull him against me and hold him, but I refrain. "Y-Yeah," I croak out, my voice choked and my throat sore. "Come in."
He enters slowly, hugging himself. "H-How are you?"
He's incredible; I'm the one to do wrong and he's over here making sure I'm alright. I scratch the back of my head. "Not good," I answer truthfully. "You?" I ask carefully, very afraid of his answer.
He shrugs, a ghost of a smirk on his face, his eyes full of pain. "The same, I guess." He clears his throat. "We really need to talk."
I nod. "I agree." I motion to my couch. "Please sit."
I follow him to the sofa, being sure to keep a proper distance. He sits about a foot away, and I'm shocked he voluntarily placed himself that close. He folds his legs underneath him and faces me directly. He fiddles with his long sleeves. "You got to talk last night. Now it's my turn, okay?"
