he hated the smell of it. he hated the taste of it. he hated the effects of it even more. there was nothing about alcohol that appealed to the man, even if it once did, none of that remained. jungkook can't remember the last time he had a drink, probably in middle school when him and his friends thought it would be cool to see who could sip the most without puking.
it easy to turn to, whether someone was happy or sad. it seemed almost natural to pour a drink and raise it in a toast to that emotion. how could people let this happen. how could we let such a toxic product become such a normalized outlet to anything we felt.
jungkook thought about that a lot, probably too much. it's hard to stop thinking about once the thoughts start, just as hard as it is to stop drinking once that habit is started.
that night he walked into his dark apartment, not even turning on a light. it was just past midnight by the time he got there, deciding to rely on the light from the moon to show him where to go. he wondered what taehyung was doing right now, hopefully enjoying his night along with everyone else.
he had left a window open again, the coldness from outside now matching that of his apartment as well as whatever was creeping inside his chest. jungkook dropped his things at the door. he'd pick it up tomorrow. he just needed to hear it again.
the male kicked off his shoes halfway to the couch, sitting down and trying to tug his phone from his jeans to find that voicemail. with shaking hands he tried, he really did, but the frustration seemed to take over instead. jungkook threw his phone, hitting the accent chair and tumbling to the floor.
instead of checking for his phone, he raked his hands through black hair, tugging on the ends and trying to slow his breathing. everything was so hard these days.
jungkook doesn't know how long he's sat there, rocking forward and back with his head in his hands and eyes squeezed shut. he could hear his phone, the tiny voice that was playing but too quiet to hear. he didn't need to, he's heard it enough times to recite the words.
what he wasn't expecting was the knock at his door. he didn't even move at first, thinking he even imagined the sound to distract himself. but then there was another knock at his apartment door opened. he couldn't be imagining that.
jungkook doesn't know how he pulled himself off the couch, or even walked to the door and even opened it. at this point he'd do anything else than just sit there and think.
