A Touch Of Love | J.JK ✔️

2 | living day after another

Jungkook's POV

"Hey, Pink Cheeks." I muttered hesitantly as I lowered myself into my seat behind Y/N. She had been awfully quiet ever since break ended and I didn't like it.

"Yah, why aren't you talking to me?" I nudged her shoulder gently but she shrugged me off without even looking at me and kept her head lowered.

"Yahhhhh," I whisper-whined and tried to grab her attention by playing with her hair but still, Y/N didn't snap at me like she usually did.

She didn't even respond in the slightest and simply pulled all her hair to the front, keeping one hand protectively wrapped over her hair, just in case I tried to pull it back.

As the class ended, I finally rushed to grab her wrist. "Just because I keep calling you, doesn't mean that you can give me attitude."

She nodded. "Mhmm. Of course. How dare I, little miss ugly, give 'the Jeon Jungkook' attitude?" She shook her head, glaring at me even though her tone dropped with bitter sarcasm. "And I deserve to be treated like shit if I give you attitude. Right Jungkook?"

Y/N's POV

Pulling away my wrist from his grasp, I walked out of the class before he could follow me or say anything more hurtful.

As I stepped into the hallway, people suddenly went silent as if they'd been talking about me but now that I was here, they didn't want to be caught making fun of me.

I smiled sadly to myself. At least people had this much of a conscience.

But suddenly laughter echoed in the long corridor. It was Minjae.

"Well well, look who we've got here finally, guys. It's none other than the Ugly Duckling, Lee Y/N." He hollered, laughing at my humiliation as everyone around him slowly burst into a laughter.

"I heard Jungkook called her ugly." Someone snickered behind my back as I lowered my head and kept on walking, reaching my locker.

"To be honest, she is quite ugly compared to Somin and Dani."

I know. I thought to myself and continued pulling my books out of the locker as my hair hid my face from everyone's cruel and heartless comments.

"The only thing worthwhile about her is her body." Some guy jeered.

"What are you talking about? A good body? Anyone can have that. That's not true for a pretty face though."

"Yeah, what good is a nice body without a pretty face?"

"I don't know. Maybe it'll help her become a whore when she doesn't get any jobs due to that ugly face of hers."

A whore?

My cheeks burned.

Even though, I'd taken all my medicines this morning and carefully applied all my ointments, the bright pink patches on my face stung from the tears that were slipping down my cheeks.

I didn't ask for this. I never asked for a disease that would completely ruin my face and also whatever little confidence I had.

Why did people have to be so cold-blooded and callous?

Did looking at their own pretty faces make them want to bully people who weren't so lucky instead of counting their own blessings?

Sniffing silently, I closed my locker shut and clutching the books to my chest, walked out of the university building with weak steps even though I wanted to hit all of them across their obnoxious faces.

But I didn't.

Because even though I hated looking so weak and pathetic, I couldn't bring myself to explain things to these merciless demons, no, I didn't want to.

I knew they were going to be just as thick-headed as all the people I'd told about my disease before and were going to humiliate me even more.

Ew, is that acne?

You should do skincare.

Maybe you should stop eating oily food.

Maybe you should stop coming to college.

Maybe you should stop breathing.

Letting out a deep sigh, I quickly took the bus to my house. Seeing that my parents weren't home, I ran upstairs to my room and without even catching my breath, pulled out the only pair of scissors I owned.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I suppressed a wave of repulsion as I took in my red face. Who wouldn't call me ugly?

I was ugly.

There were red marks all over my cheeks and forehead and tear stains ran through my slightly bloodied cheeks. I had no makeup on whatsoever and my eyes were puffy from crying, making me look absolutely horrible.

Reaching out for my cleansers, I gently wiped away the blood on my face and blinked back at my reflection, trying to imagine what I would have looked like with a clear skin. Nothing came to mind.

I had been like this ever since I could remember. I had forgotten what having a normal skin felt like, the only memory of me having soft skin being old photographs from elementary school.

Trying not to cry again, I steeled my will and grabbed some of my hair from the front of my head and snipped them off, arranging my new bangs over my forehead and cheeks in a way that would hide all the imperfections to some extent.

Then, moving to the rest of my hair, I chopped off the entire length until all that I had left was short, shoulder-length hair that barely brushed the end of my neck.

Brushing through it, I glanced at myself critically in the mirror. This was surely going to help keep my face hidden from the intrusive gazes of my classmates. Maybe if they didn't see it, then they'd let me be.

Finishing up my haircut, I quickly got rid of all the excess hair and then, jumped into the shower, taking a long, cold shower that washed away all my frustration and anger.

I was aware that I should not be this hard on myself, that I didn't deserve to be unhappy and depressed but it was hard to love myself when it felt like no one else did.

I sighed, letting the shower calm me down.

Tomorrow would be another day.