𝐵𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑦 𝐷𝑒𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 // 𝑗𝑗𝑘, 𝑦/𝑛, 𝑘𝑡ℎ

39

Y/n POV :

I was a disaster, and it felt like everything around me was chaos. I didn't have it in me to go to work after school that day. Dragging my feet across the concrete, I let giant tears drip down to my chin, and then soak into the ground.

I couldn't really think of anything, because I felt like I was finally going crazy. Blank-minded, I walked into my home, and hauled my feet forwards until I reached my bathroom. My depressing bathroom, with a mirror I grew to hate.

I finally saw my hair. I looked terrible. It was so choppy, and nothing was right. It fell to barely above my shoulders, yet one side was longer than the other. The fact that Jungkook purposely cut it just to hurt me, made me furious.

I stomped out the bathroom, and grabbed the scissors from the kitchen. The next thing I knew, I was chopping away at my hair. I picked up sections and I just snapped it right off.

And it felt so good.

I sighed a sigh of relief. It was so short, barely even reaching my chin anymore. But it felt so good. The scissors dropped from my hand, just as I leaned against the wall and slid down. I shut my eyes, and sniffled. My tears were hot, spreading all across my face. I spread my legs on the cold floor and just sat there. The rest of the night, I couldn't move. Every time I thought about getting up, my heart ached and my blood began rushing through my veins. So I just sat there, thinking about everything.

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

I woke up the next morning, still in the bathroom. Feeling disgusting, I took a shower. I thought it would make me feel better, but it didn't. I just felt sick from the other day.

Feeling unmotivated, I looked at myself in the mirror and I sighed. I forced a smile, even though it hurt to. I would fake it till I made it. Like I said in the beginning- being happy is a choice. So I would decide to not let this bring me down.

I walked out of my house in a rush, realising I was late. As I hurried my steps to get to my bicycle, I crashed into something. Everything was a blur. It hurt so much as I felt something hard smash into my side pushing me onto the concrete floor.

I groaned loudly in pain as the sun spilled its light all over me. It felt so warm on me, and I didn't want to get up. A head came into my view and covered the blinding sun. The newspaper boy was looking at me from above with a worried look on his face.

He crouched down and lent a hand to me, which I took. His hands felt so much different to all the other hands I ever felt. They were rough and overworked.

With a grunt, he pulled me up and stared at me,"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

I nodded at him lazily. That's when I saw the blood on his head. He probably fell worse than me. I instantly began to worry,"I'm fine, but are you okay? Your head is bleeding a little."