The One I Love

25:00

He smells like sweat and alcohol.

Adrenaline pumps furiously through Jennie's veins. She fumbles for the call button at her side, hands shaking. Jaewon notices her movement, grabbing her hand and pinning it to his chest.

"You lied. You said you would never leave me." Her fingers twist and contort in the strength of his grip. "My parents hate me. My sister hates me. I thought I... at least I had you."

And there it is: the sharp pain, the incessant tug, the bizarre and yet intoxicating draught of pity and disgust—the same emotion one would feel when watching a stray dog hobble miserably down a streetside, its skin covered in mange and eyes glinting with the agony of its existence. The love she had felt for him, wagered against his destructive tendencies, had always been rooted in this pity. It always went back to his crazed, but devastatingly lonely expression. The face of a man who had never once felt affection.

Her sympathy is cut short by the disorienting clicking of teeth against teeth. The kiss is sloppy and sour and desperately unwelcome.

"Jaewon, please." She manages to whimper out as his canines graze against her throat. She wriggles beneath him, her legs that had become as skinny and knobby as twigs kicking up in defense. Her eyes meet his and Jennie wishes she could look away—instead, she glares back into his dilated pupils as glossy as marbles. "Why are you being like this?"

"This is my hospital." He tells her, grip tightening around her wrist. "Did you think I wouldn't know you've been playing out some tragic romance? I was first. You loved me first."

"I—" She begins to challenge him but stops. The statement is almost too absurd to warrant a response.

Jennie remembers a time when she had genuinely wanted Jaewon to kill her. She'd heard the rumors before ever saying yes to a first date. She let him pursue her, she sought him out, even though she knew he was dangerous... Maybe even because she knew he was dangerous.

"Isn't it enough that I'm like this?" Her breath comes out in soft, labored wisps. His body weighs heavily against her own, crushing her into the mattress. "Isn't it enough that I'm going to die here?"

The wet, wet red of his shirt sleeve seeps into the thin fabric of her hospital gown.

"It's not enough, Jennie. It will never be enough."

For some reason, the forming stain ignites an adrenaline-filled rage. Jennie bucks up from the bed, spitting in his face.

The frame creaks moves on top of her. A gutteral, primal sound leaves his gritted teeth. His hands fly toward her. He strikes her face, staring down at her. There are no more words to be shared between them. The silence is more terrifying than she could have imagined.

His hands clasp around her throat. She gasps out as he squeezes tight.

Her last thoughts... She makes a plea to her pleading conscious not to think of Jaewon, not to let his face be the last thing in her mind, not to let this fear be the last thing in her heart.

His hands squeeze tighter. He's crying, but she can't bring herself to care as she chokes against his grip.

She thinks about Nayeon and Yoongi, and wonders if they'll name their child after her. Probably not.

She thinks about Lisa, who is most likely at home making another batch of god awful kimbap.

She thinks about Hanbin, and hates that his lips hadn't been the last she had touched. No.

She feels her chest tighten, and wonders if it really takes so long to die or if Jaewon is less of an effective sociopathic murderer than he had lead them all to believe.