As far as he could piece together, it had happened like this;
Jimin, unsatisfied with the fact that apparently he couldn't simply scare Seokjin away with things like ominous words of warning and planting half truths with his mind that would only fester and grow, had decided it was clearly time to escalate things. Later, he would learn that his only plan had been for them to finish talking, despite how completely adamant Seokjin was that they were, in fact, finished.
And there was no way he could have predicted the series of unfortunate events that would play out because of that one poorly timed decision. Couldn't have known that if he had perhaps five seconds longer finding which mail box belonged to his person of interest - and therefore which apartment - this whole thing could have been avoided.
But it wasn't. Because apparently luck have never been on Jimin's side either.
Later, when the story was being retold to him, it would go something like this;
There was nothing actually in Seokjin's kitchen, a fact that he was painfully aware of, but that didn't bother him nearly as much as it should. Jungkook, in his quest to become a better person, one that was actually deserving of the gift that was apparently Seokjin, had ventured out in an attempt to fix this. But letting him loose alone in a grocery store was ill advised at best, so he'd ended up walking out with three entire bags filled with snacks and nothing worth any actual nutritional value.
Unless you counted ramen. And it probably said something about him that he didn't want to think about that he did.
There had been a unique set of foot steps coming up the stairs just as he entered the last number of the code, the little light flickering green and that should have been the focus of his attention. But the movements were well practiced now, it was nothing to turn his head while grasping the handle, twisting and pushing until the door gave way. And maybe if he hadn't, maybe if he had been content to simply mind his own business, then maybe he could have been inside before the doom that was waiting to occur actually had a chance to begin.
But he had turned his head, and the impending doom didn't just occur. It imploded.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" It should have been totally ridiculous. Him standing there with these cloth bags in colorful hues slung over his shoulder and vile spewing out of his mouth. But it was more than enough to stop the bringer of that doom in their tracks.
"I could ask you the same thing." Jungkook was entirely aware that while Yoongi may have been loyal, Taehyung definitely was not. And honestly, he couldn't actually blame him. He had known Jimin since they were children. Of course that would be the hill he chose to die on. But he hadn't actually told anyone where he'd been these last few weeks. Had only told Yoongi that he'd keep giving him his half of the rent (and maybe his foolish mind had already been making plans. Had been doing absolutely foolish things like looking at places for them. Little condos and apartments and even planning how he could put a down payment on one and surprise Seokjin. His birthday was coming up, and what better gift than a place for them both? Okay, the best gift was going to be the bow wrapped around his neck and absolutely nothing else covering him, but that could wait.) and had kept the information to bare minimum.
Teeth bit into his cheek so harshly that he could taste blood, crimson liquid practically pouring from the wound and onto his tongue, and he swallowed it down, like it could somehow push everything else that was threatening to come up along with it.
"I told you to leave him alone." How much clearer could he actually be? How many more times would he have to repeat the same things over and over and over again before they finally sunk through that thick skull and made the sense they were supposed to?
"Yeah, well I never was good at listening." And maybe that was why they hadn't worked out in the end. Jimin just wasn't submissive enough. Would only listen when it suited him, and the rest of the time would run free, doing whatever he pleased. Sure, at first he had been a good boy, always doing exactly as Jungkook wanted, as he asked. But that had changed with time. When he made the mistake of letting him know that this was always going to continue. That he was always going to come back. "When will he be back?"
"Why?" Something had happened. He could feel it. An ice cold sort of fear that settled in bone deep.
"So we can finish talking." It was said so simply, like there was absolutely no way it couldn't be the truth. "Do you have any idea how fucked up you have him? He actually thinks you love him."
"I do." It released as a growl, and if it had been anyone else on earth standing in front of him, maybe it would have had the desire effect. Maybe they would have been terrified instead of amused.
"You say that like you have any idea what love is. You know what it isn't, Jungkook? It isn't lying to someone. It isn't telling them you're there's when you have someone else. It isn't fucking that other person, and then running off to them with your dick still wet. It isn't making them look like a fucking abuse victim because you're afraid they're going to find someone better."
It was true.
All of it was so painfully true.
Love wasn't any of those things.
Love wasn't lying. Wasn't telling half truths and made up secrets.
Love wasn't going from one person to another like they were interchangeable.
Love wasn't placing marks of ownership on another's body. Scarring their skin and their hearts until no one else would want them.
Love wasn't this obsessive ugliness that welled up within him. Wasn't this dark, possessive need.
Love wasn't any of those things.
And maybe he really wasn't capable of it after all.
