Kiss, Don't Tell | JJK

38 | long lasting fairytales

38

LONG LASTING FAIRYTALES

I stormed out of the hospital room with a newfound sense of dignity, the sound my heels clacking against the marble floor drowning along with my buzzing thoughts flying around in a chaotic loop, leaving my mother in her own state of misery. 

I've been fantasizing about this scenario too many times—the day I could haul all my years of regret, hatred, anguish toward my mother in a heated speech, where I would let her drop on her knees. My feelings about my mother were a mushy mix of bitterness and longingness, which I didn't understand myself. But living the reality of those dreams felt sort of anticlimactic. 

Well, for starters, I never imagined or thought I'd confess to my mother first hand about how I came to love a boy. It was so out of the topic, out of the blue that I just spoke whatever came from my mind and my heart. I just didn't realize that what came from my heart were the feelings I tried to bury. I meant to tell her how much I hated her, how much her blind obsession had caused both our ruin—not about my insecurities, my worst fears, or first love. 

And yet here I was, storming out in the hospital hallway in a gown after releasing my pent up frustrations to my mother.

Well at least now, I had a clear head and heart. Yay. 

At the moment, I wanted nothing but to snuggle inside the warm jacket Iseul gave me to cover up. The wine red gown was so foreign against my skin it felt like a worn down armor, the makeup smudged over my face started feeling so heavy, like a second mask plastered on me. As I stopped near the comfort room to check on my makeup and hair, I realized the gravity of my words and the feelings I confessed.

I love Jungkook. 

A heavy breath came out of my wine-stained lips, hands fumbling to fix my bangs that fell to the sides of my face, flinching at how I ruined my hair a little because of my small outburst. "I actually fell for the guy, huh?" I murmured, hands dropping to my sides as I stared at my reflection on the mirror.

Before I knew it, I had already crashed, not realizing I had fallen—hard and fast—and there had been no time to think of it. It happened in a heartbeat, a millisecond, and I only came to realize what happened when I crashed down.

"I love..." I started, pursing my lips as I swallowed heavily, "I love..." The word love tasted bitter and sweet—an affirmation of how things could go badly from here if I decided to take the wrong move. "...him." I finished, blowing out a breath, as though a gust of wind had come and gone inside my body, wreaking havoc in my heart before fading away.

Even though I basically declared to my mother I was going to pursue him, regardless of the trauma she invoked in me, I couldn't help but be scared. It was only natural—since years without seeing what love looked like made me rethink if I'll be able to recognize love if I happen to see it.

But the thumping of my heart, the look on Jungkook's face when he told me his fears, the way he held my hand so delicately, the way he sung a lullaby to my ears, the way he smiles at me even though I had done something chaotic, the way he scrubbed the rain off my hair, the way he held me in his arms so securely—it all came rushing back. It felt so natural, this feeling.

If love didn't look like this, then I'm not really sure what it looked like besides this. 

With one last look, I turned and left. There was only one thing to do, after all. I've read it all before in fan fictions, novels, of couples' experiences, and in televisions, even in songs, of course. Being a wannabe romance writer had given me some sort of vivid image about the next move that should be taken after realizing these things called feelings.