Unwanted Love || Jikook Story

22

"So, we might have gone through many disagreements. But I think we hold deeper than that, don't we? Do you want to go out this evening and talk it out on some coffee?" Jimin hastily said, playing with his now almost blonde hair as nervousness devoured every ounce of him. He was almost thankful Jungkook can't see him through the phone.

He removed the pink dye, yet his hair was still bleached, placing in a yellowish orange shade with few brown growing roots.

"Are you, by any chance, asking me out?" Jungkook chuckled, turning down the volume of the TV that was principally lit up only to add background noise to the painfully silent room. "I- Nevermind, bye Jungkook" Jimin mumbled with disappointment conspicuous in his tone, but Jungkook spoke before the other can hang up.

"No no, it's fine, pass by my place or I'll pass by yours?"

"I'll be there at 5 pm"

Jimin now had satisfaction written all over his face. He headed to his wardrobe and had a small breakdown while trying to pick an outfit--most importantly, why was he nervous? Not like this is some sort of a date. He knew he can never move on Taehyung.

He still had an old beaded bracelet he made with his lover when they first began living together, one with "T A E" on it and the other with J I M I N on it. The Tae one accompanied him everywhere, but now that he's gone, he had them both on his wrists.

Just looking at it reminds him of all the conflicted love, of all the painfully beautiful past. He smiled, ignoring the headache that grew constantly like a tumor in his head, he's been getting random but awfully terrible headaches lately yet he ignored it all the time, living on painkillers.

Jungkook wasn't as bad as he expected, to say the least, that's why he thought of building a friendship between them regarding their same main struggle. However, looking at it, he had the gates of destiny open before him, and he fell into the pit of Jungkook's ebony irises once again. Charming lips adorned with cherry, upper one slightly thinner than the lower, addicting enough to have wild thoughts run in his mind at a mere sight, a dreamy regard painted him as he remembered more and more. The soft black hair strands luring him to have his hand ruffled between them, the rosy cheeks filled with wonders, he wanted to caress, he wanted to feel.

A perfect man, not so perfect- but just, at it, ample.