Cheshire Cat

By the time Namjoon got home, I was already asleep.

When I woke up, however, I got the answer to the question: did I screw up? When for the first time, I wasn't the little spoon. No, not even a leg was thrown on top of me or at least, part of his arm.

He wasn't even facing me.

Another person could fit in the space between us.

My eyes fixated themselves at the back of his head and when I finally looked away, it felt like all the guilt was slowly suffocating me. So, I smoked my emotions away.

Instead of making them smaller, they felt even more real than they did before.

"Hey, get up. It's…"

He flinched as if my touch was painful.

Looking as if he hasn't been sleeping at all.

"I'll go take a shower."

"It's too late for that. Do you know what time is it?" I argued.

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner then?" The bite in his words was probably unintentional or at least, that's what I told myself.

I didn't have to tell him to let go of my hand when we got too close to school 'cause he was walking ahead of me, without looking back.

And I almost forgot the reason why he was passive-aggressive with me until I saw Yoongi bored in his seat and the usual classmates hanging by his side.

He ignored me as well.

Neither looked at each other.

It was like we never talked.

I sank into a dark hole inside the pit of my stomach, that felt more like a hurricane. And I waited for this day to pass. The clock on the wall made no sound, but I could've sworn there was this countdown that was driving me insane.

We walked home, hand in hand with our new best friend: silence.

I was forced to realize that his legs were indeed longer than mine.

Little old me, trying to catch up with him, like a child chasing after his parent.

After a while, I gave up.

I watched him getting inside his house and leaving me behind the door all alone.

Biting the inside of my lip and feeling like my whole body was just a big wound, I went in, ready to talk. But he wasn't there to hear the unprepared speech I was ready to perform.

The sound of the shower hit me like a slap to the face.

When I saw him next, he made food for both of us.

I accepted the remote whilst we ate dinner and watched Tv like it was a peace offering.

We kept talking like nothing happened.

But I didn't buy it.

So, when we went to sleep and he turned around, I placed an arm around his chest and my face against his back.

He didn't say or do anything. We just fell asleep like that.

The next day he showered alone, but then he offered me a cup of hot coffee on our way to school and along the way, we somehow ended up talking about the difference between a cheap coffee and an expensive one, a cold one or a hot one and most importantly, plastic cups, cans or actual cups. Pretty soon, I tried to ignore the fact that he always kept a distance of two or three steps from me. Until he said this:

"You know, I'm thinking of joining a gym."

"Are you kidding me? When? You've like three free hours during the day. Four max."

"It'll only take one hour. It's not far from here either."

"Can I come too?" I mumbled,

"Of course. Do you really want to, though? I didn't think working out was your thing."

"It isn't. But I want to try."

'Since you'll have no more time left for me…'

The rest of the day was the same. I expected that. However, what I didn't expect was for him to get a day off delivering to stay home while I had to go to work.

Somehow, I managed to persuade my boss to let me go home one hour earlier than usual, only to find Namjoon studying.

"Hey…"

"Mm…" He absently mumbled.

"Did you eat?"

"Mhm."

"Ramen?" I asked seeing that some hot water was still creating steam from a pot.

He didn't bother to answer. Focused entirely on his history book.

"You're free today?"

"Fred said so." He looked at the time, "Weren't you supposed to work for one more hour?"

"I…I didn't feel well, so I left."

"How come?"

He looked up for the first time, so I left my backpack by the table and sat next to him.

"I think I have a fever."

He did exactly what I wanted him to do.

Hand on my forehead, he said: "I don't feel anything."

And then I did what two beers in the staff's room gave me the courage to do, which was to pretend to want to get in the corner of the table by pretty much touching the front of his body with the back of my own.

I safely reached the other side. He resumed studying as if my ass against his junk was not affecting him in any way.

'The guy who jerked me off while I was cooking 'cause he couldn't wait until I was done…'

With the obvious lie of: "It's too hot in here". I took off my shirt.

He didn't even look.

So, I blurted out, at the end of my rope, red as a tomato: "Want to take a shower with me?"

Pencil between teeth, glasses on nose, and eyes wide. He seemed to be taken aback.

"…sure." Voice above a whisper.

I got in first and waited. Minutes later, he joined and started washing not even facing me once. He was under the water and out in less time than it took him to come.

He was all dressed up and studying by the time I was done.

A joint, frustration and a blurry walk of shame towards the bed had me almost in tears.

"Jungkook, aren't you eating?!" He screamed from the other room.

"I am not hungry," I said and faced the window, and fell into a sleep-like coma.

The morning was the same. In the late afternoon, the house was empty and quiet enough to allow the cogs inside my brain to turn in the search of the safest way to approach the obvious elephant in the room.

Nonetheless, when his 'work' was over, I couldn't bring myself to ruin the seemingly good mood.

He was humming and cooking whilst I was staring from the corner, like a ghost.

"Come taste this."

I complied.

"Is this soup?"

"Yes and no."

"Which one is it?"

I went for a second taste.

"It's not ready yet." He touched the spoon, but not my hand. So, I held onto it as a child would.

To my disappointment, he simply let go.

"Fine, but it'll be better if you let it boil for ten more minutes."

I abandoned the spoon on the counter as he resumed cutting more vegetables with the same cheery expression on his face.

Beating myself up for even caring about the lack of physical affection, I smoked some more and went to bed without eating again.

Friday arrived like a ton of bricks on top of a thin, old bowl filled to the brim with milk and cereal. It was official, ever since Monday, Namjoon hasn't touched me at all. Not even by mistake. We ate together, watched Tv together, dressed in the same room, walked on the same road, and returned to the same place. We even showered once. And the conversations never strayed from the normal.

During this wonderful time in our relationship, I increased my weed consumption and as if to spite me, my tolerance increased faster than a plane taking flight in a warzone. When we were finally on our way to the club and the weekend was making itself known, I could see the hallway, the creases on his shirt, and the stairway leading to the rooftop way too clearly.

'I'm almost out…'

Since he promised not to bring it up and I forced him to stay true to his word. I remained, the only one capable of taking the elephant by the tail and swinging it around until it decreased inside, like magic.

But I couldn't.

And even though he wouldn't come near me, everything else was the same. If we were only friends, I probably wouldn't have noticed that he was probably, most likely, upset.

And yet I was also a coward that wouldn't go down the hole I helped dig between us with a ten-foot pole. I wanted to jump over it like it was nothing, so I reached for his hand when the bathroom that used to be the only place we ever interacted was to our left. He didn't turn around. He didn't close his fingers around my hand. He just let me hold his and continued walking.

"I am going to the roof." I blurted out.

"Alright."

So, I let go. And he kept walking.

My little haven near the sky felt colder. My spot, lonelier. The songs were muffled by the multitude of thoughts that were attacking simultaneously. And the weed…wasn't doing much. Maybe because I went overboard in the past couple of days, maybe because this time it just wasn't strong enough, or perhaps my emotions were amplified by it instead of dulled.

I couldn't tell the reason why, but after just a few desperate hits, I was out and heading for the club room with minus ten sanity level.

'I think screwed up.' That is what I wanted to tell Sony when he grinned at me with a lollipop dangling from his lips.

"I did all the exercises you've told me. And I still don't get this…" Kwan's frustrated tone was letting me know that Namjoon was currently keeping his promise.

'Yoongi didn't even glance my way since then. After I made sure that my boyfriend wouldn't protect me…like the retard that I am.'

"Jungkook, how good are you at dancing?"

'Bora, I don't know what to do. If I bring it up, doesn't that mean that I have to give him the approval to kill Yoongi in case he does anything, ever?'

"Earth to Jungkook? Want to land?"

'And what should I say? I am sorry that after opening up, I pretty much told you never to do it again?'

"Hey!" She shook me back and forth, but I only responded after I saw Namjoon paying more attention to us than Kwan, who was obviously trying to retain his focus by pretty much covering his face with the notebook.

"Not good at all."

"Oh, I thought you didn't hear me." She let me go, trying to appear indifferent. "'s fine anyway. Just tell me if anything looks out of place."

I absently nodded. And from the table, I heard a shout:

"Kwan be silent! A show from Bora herself is about to begin!" Sony announced and the big guy started clapping, a bit confused as to what he was supposed to be excited about.

"Sony, bite me."

"You wish." He mumbled with a smirk on his face.

She turned around, while I stayed in the corner, leaning against the wall. Arms crossed.

The choreography seemed simple. And the song that was coming from her phone wasn't helping her case.

I wasn't interested at all.

'Why do I even want him to touch me? What's wrong with me?'

"Yoo-hoo! Shake that booty!"

"Guys! Be quiet! I can't concentrate. Ah! I made a mistake. Now I have to start over. Sorry, Jungkook."

I nodded and fixed my eyes in her direction.

'Or is it just because I know the reason behind it? Is it the guilt? But wasn't I right? Or was I wrong?'

My eyes slowly, but surely drifted towards the floor and Bora's already forced smile faded.

"Are you even paying attention?!" She screamed, all movements becoming sloppy.

'I need someone who can look at this objectively. I can't talk to him until I make up my mind.'

"Ok! Thank you but, no thank you."

The song was abruptly stopped.

Bora grabbed the phone and stormed out.

"What?" I asked the silence that followed.

"Bora!"

Kwan yelled immediately after and just before she went out to follow her, she sent me a look that was a beautiful mixture of anger and confusion.

When Kwan's face disappeared, it was replaced with Namjoon's who was blankly staring right at me.

Not puzzled at all.

"Jungkook, my man. I know she doesn't get the best moves, but she was already on edge about the…" Sony informed me from his seat.

I simply grabbed my backpack before he finished, and walked out without looking back. Because I was certain, Namjoon wasn't going to follow me.

I heard a girl's cry after a couple of steps and saw Kwan embracing Bora in a corner of a hall that split off from the main. And I was ready to apologize for the way I acted right then and there when I heard Kwan say: "It doesn't mean that you're not good enough, it just means you're not his type. Maybe he likes someone else."

"But he's the one who said he had to have me in his team…"

I kept walking. Clenched the phone and sent Namjoon a text that was just enough to keep us on good terms even if the ground we were standing on was paper-thin: "Jung's back tomorrow. So, I need to tidy up before he arrives. I'll be home late."

If I wasn't confident in the gravity of things, his text solidified it: "Ok."

"That's it?!" I yelled out loud near the exit of the school.

I scrolled through my agenda and without thinking, I called Fred.

"Hi." A sleepy voice answered.

"Hi. It's Jungkook."

"Hi."

'You already said that.'

"Can I come over?"

"Already out of candy?"

"Ca…? Oh, yeah."

"Sure, come on over."

I exhaled loudly.

"Actually, there's also something else I need to talk to you about. So, it might take a bit…Ah, are you home alone?"

I checked if he hung up since there was no sound for several seconds.

"…yes. Why?"

"It's nothing big. I just don't want Namjoon to…" I bit my lip and then stopped in the middle of the street. "Can you not tell Namjoon if I talked to you about… something? Like ever? If you can't, I'll respect it, but I'd rather you be honest with me. I mean, you've known him for a long time and I'm a stranger, but I had a feeling that you were a good person so…"

"Kid."

I straightened up my back at the serious tone.

"Yes?"

"You can talk about anything you want and I won't repeat a word. Unless it's something that endangers him, you or…"

"No. Nothing of the sort." I quickly added.

"But if you want to be all buddy buddy, then you also have to keep whatever I ever tell you only to yourself. After all, it takes two to tango."

"Of course. Always."

"Even if he forces it out of you?"

"What? Forces how?"

A few seconds of silence were followed by a chuckle.

"I am just messing with you. Just come here. Ah, I need some coffee. And Jungkook…"

"Yes?"

"Where does he think you're going to be in the next hours?"

I swallowed.

"Home."

"Hm. And how are you going to explain when you show up with a new bag of candy? Do you have some more at your place?"

"No," I admitted, quietly. Feeling defeated.

"Then you're just coming to have an old chat with your new pal, aren't you?"

"I guess." I grinned. And at the same time, cursed the fact that I messaged Namjoon before calling.

"I'll send you the address, so you won't get lost. See you later."

He hung up.

And I stared at the device as if it was a foreign object.

'Ah… in case… I'm…this is…he knows addicts. Doesn't he?'

I started fast walking towards his house on autopilot.

And cursed my last message all the way there.

'Can't I just tell him I'm going over to Fred's by myself? I am allowed to. He's my new dealer. He said so, but still…'

I passed through the same park Namjoon and I took a walk in, even though I could bet that this was the longest way to get there.

'Why don't I want him to know? Maybe if I take the stuff and then tell him I went to Fred's? Will he get mad? Why should he? Because I lied? Is it a lie if I changed my mind when I got home? But if I tell him now and I am not home and he wants to come with…'

I rang Fred again and asked for the intercom number.

Seconds later, I was out of the elevator panting since I fast walked the whole way.

The door was already wide open, Fred right by it holding a steaming cup of something. Looking tired.

'It's too late to change my story. I lied. And Fred knows. Namjoon will know as well if I tell him anything now. Fuck me.'

"Hi," I said, taking my jacket and backpack off, standing in the middle of his living room with the said objects in my hands, not knowing what to do with myself.

"On the couch."

I did as I was told and then hesitantly walked to the chair that had a cup of something right in front of it.

"So…" I started, unable to look him in the eye.

"So." He repeated with a small smile. "What did he do this time?" He asked as a father would ask about his child.

I cupped the mug and warmed my hands instead of my stomach.

"He didn't. I did." I stared at the dark liquid.

The scent of cocoa flew up lazily and calmed me down just a tiny bit.

"What did you do?"

"He, I…" I bit the inside of my lips and glanced at the phone that was right next to the mug with furrowed brows. And then continued: "I think I was right. But I am not sure."

"About?"

I sighed and took a sip.

'It's good.'

"If you've changed your mind and you don't want to tell me, I won't get mad."

"No. I want to tell you. I'm just not sure what to say."

"The beginning, the middle, and the end."

And that's exactly what I did. Skipping the actual start of the conversation only to jump straight to the problematic part, ending before I refused to answer my mother's phone call.

"What do you think?"

"I think you two are a match made in heaven." He said laughing.

"It's not funny. He tells me how he regrets his past actions and then how he'll make them wish they were never born. How does that make any sense?!"

"It does, for Namjoon, at least."

"How?! I don't understand…"

"You can't right now. You will, if you stick around long enough, of course."

I couldn't stop blinking unconsciously.

"Look…" He cleared his throat, "I know for a fact that Namjoon regrets what he did to those punks."

"How…?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Where do you think he went after he got hit in the head? Home? At his…" He smiled and then coughed.

"To you? How long had you two known each other?"

"Let's just say that his mother and I knew each other long before Namjoon was even born. And let's just leave it at that." He smiled again, briefly. And after it was gone, what remained on his face was a hint of actual anger.

He got up and poured himself a second cup of coffee as if he was trying to hide his face.

"She told you to take care of him, so you felt responsible to…"

"Ha! No!" He burst out laughing in the most sarcastic, saddest, and fullest laugh I've ever heard someone laugh. He cleared his throat and continued: "I did it because he was a good kid. He still is. He just didn't have the best environment in which to, you know…flourish."

"His mother didn't love him?" I dared to ask. And for a quick moment, he threw me a look that told me not to ask about his mother ever again. At the same time, answering by not defending her at all.

"So…that night. He was a child, desperately trying to get a grown-up to help those punks to a hospital because of what he's done in his altered state of mind."

"Altered state of mind?"

"Being mistreated, being treated unfairly and…well, any amount of stress that surpasses your pain tolerance is bound to leave a scar. He was afraid for his life and he hid that fear only for it to explode in his face, in the form of blind fury. Misguided as it was. But it was all, in order to survive. I'm sure you'd understand the desire to keep going despite living a nightmare." He toasted me with the cup in mid-air from the sink, I toasted back from the table.

"Yeah, I know."

"And he survived a lot of things that a child shouldn't have. Maybe one day he'll tell you about it. As for now, it is not my story to tell. But that night, when no one was coming at him anymore and he finally saw what he had done, he not only felt remorseful… but he was ready to take responsibility just so they wouldn't be in any grave danger. Physically, that is."

"But how? The rumor was that the janitor found them. No one else knew…They wouldn't even say who it was that beat them up. In what way did he take any kind of responsibility?!" I screamed.

"He didn't. Because he came to me. And I wouldn't let him."

Mouth agape, I stared at the grownup sipping from his coffee with new eyes.

"What?" I breathed out; a bit judgmental.

"The kid went to tell them to stop bullying one of his classmates." He deadpanned. "And they jumped him. They attacked him. Thing is, he started fighting back. And when he did, they didn't run, they didn't stop. He told you that motherfucker hit him in the head, right? And that's all he told you?!"

His eyes went cold, hands seemed stiff as he almost smashed the cup when he laid it down on the counter and crossed his arms with a clenched jaw.

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"They also bit him, scratched him, punched him with fists and legs, cut him, burned him and…"

"They burned him?!"

"I am not finished. Slammed him against the ground by the head, missing hair tells you a lot and oh, and broke a few ribs too."

I got up as if I could do anything about it now. I just felt my heart beating out of my chest and the room spinning.

He continued with anger-filled eyes and a smirk: "That kid was the most honest idiot I've ever met. So, when he told me everything that happened, I realized that all he did was defend himself. And yet, soaked in blood and limping, he came to me to say and I quote: I need you to take them to the hospital, I can't call an ambulance or they'll tell my mom. Please, save them! It's all my fault!" He mimicked the voice of what sounded to me like a little girl, but I couldn't find it in me to laugh.

He spits in the sink with the eyes of a man that was ready to kill and continued: "As if. If it was up to me, I would've continued what he started. And no, I am not saying what he did was right, but those punks had it coming and I wasn't going to ruin his entire future for some spoiled brats with a golden spoon up their ass playing the innocent card to their brainwashed parents."

"They aren't rich…" I faintly mentioned while sitting down with a hand to my forehead.

"Yeah, they are. To me and to Namjoon. They're rich. How? If his mom went to his school after this incident, by some miracle, they would've believed anyone but her. Innocent or not. Namjoon had nothing besides the roof above his head. Those parents had money to throw on desserts, and jewelry every few months. That, when you're piss poor, is rich."

'There were never any sweets in his fridge…' I covered my eyes.

"Jungkook. I don't want you to pity him, but I want you to understand the position he was in and why he didn't tell you. Especially, why his friends will never rat him out. He won, one against six, or seven, I don't remember exactly, but even three against one is unfair. And then he managed to run to get help for someone other than himself. I don't know about you, but I'd find that hard to do now. He didn't even care that he was bleeding from his head, clothes ripped and ribs hurting every time he inhaled."

His tone seemed to be getting angrier and angrier, nails digging into his arms and eyes making my chest hurt.

"Wait…I can't…"

"No. He wanted my help, so I helped him. I locked him up in my house for weeks to one: make sure he wasn't impaired for life. And two: convince him that it was not his fault. But he didn't believe me. The idiot. He just promised me he wouldn't talk about it anymore. He broke his promise too. Fucking brat…" He leaned against the counter we used as a table and looked at me with almost disgust. "He even convinced you that it was his fault, that's how good a manipulative heartless parent is at teaching a child that everything is one's own fault. And no, he's no saint! Far from it, but he's not the monster they say he is. He's just a kid that had to fight his whole life and somehow, managed to stay alive so now, they say he's not human! Why?! Because they couldn't kill him! So, it must be something inhumane about him! Or else it wouldn't make any sense for their small brains."

The irony was not lost on me, but the malice was oozing out of him. Once again, he looked away and spat. As if they were in the sink with their mouths open.

"Thank you, for telling me all this. But I still don't want him to keep fighting…Especially if he's not to blame…"

"No. He wasn't to blame then. But I am not saying he won't be now."

"What do…you…mean?" I felt a cold chill down my spine when he smiled.

"After you get cornered so many times, you don't wait for the dogs to surround you first. You learn from the past and bite first."

"You're telling me that he already talked to…."

The memory of Yoongi talking to a classmate popped up in my mind and left me limp in the chair of a dealer's living room:

'"What you're doing tonight?"

"I have some shit I need to go to…"

"What? I told you we need you on our team. We're outnumbered without you, man. What the heck?"

"Sorry."

"You told me you were coming yesterday!."

"It's out of my hands."

"You must be kidding me. What the hell is so important?"

"Trust me. You don't want to know." As an afterthought, he added: "It's…family stuff."

"Man. Your parents never cared where you are. What are you on?"'

For the second time that day, I got up from Fred's chair. This time, however, I used so much force and speed that the chair fell over.

"The next day…he missed class." The sentence came out without my incentive, like a man that's sleep talking.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"Namjoon beat Yoongi up already. Didn't he?"

He rubbed his chin and squinted his eyes and asked: "Did the punk have some wounds or something?"

"No, but he missed school after he supposedly went somewhere with his family."

"Jungkook. Don't get all paranoid about me now. If the punk's attending class and he's as good-natured as you say, they most likely, had a chat. Stick with the facts: no bruises, no fight."

"But…he never talked to me again after that day," I complained.

"Namjoon?"

"Yoongi."

"Are you sure this Yoongi guy wasn't only feeling guilty about whatever shit he ate years ago and wanted to clear his conscience?"

"I don't know…I don't know him…that well."

"So, what? You're going to go find out and then blame Namjoon for being protective of you?"

"No…"

I picked up the chair and sat on it, feeling shaky. Fred also sat down.

"Whatever happens, he'll blame himself."

"Huh?"

"He might be the one who punches first, but the one who provoked first, wouldn't be him. He doesn't go out looking to leave proof for the police. Never will. He's too overprotective of what he's got."

"Why?! Sometimes, I'm scared to even talk to other people in front of him. It's like he's scared they're going to kidnap me or something…"

He sighted in such an exasperated way that might've as well have said: You're a fucking idiot.

"If you have an infinite number of toys, you don't care if a few get ripped or stolen. But if you only got like one or two and no money, wouldn't you do anything to make sure nothing happened to them?"

"I guess…."

Silence. My head was hurting and my hands were cold.

'I want to smoke so badly right now.'

The man got a text and was giving it his entire attention while I started fidgeting and trying to convince myself not to say anything. But the moment the phone was in his jeans, it went out of me like a broken dam:

"Can you give me…" I cleared my throat.

"What? Food? Something to drink? Some chocolate? The kid told me you like it." He headed for the fridge.

But when I didn't answer, he looked at me, smiled, and laughed quietly, yet bitterly.

"Just one?"

"Yeah."

"Got it."

I smoked with a dealer in front of me, for the first time. It was weird, watching him watch me. That was until it worked.

It was enough to keep me from rolling on the floor to shake the image of a young Namjoon bleeding and crying because of Yoongi and his friends.

"By the way, not that it's my business or anything…well, as a matter a fact, I'd rather you didn't quit anytime soon," He joked with a grin, "but why weed? And why so often?"

"Mm…the world is too…clear."

His lifted eyebrow urged me to go on and I did after I exhaled smoke: "Maybe I have heightened emotions, well, all the bad ones. The good ones are really rare. Maybe I can't cope with them in any other way, but I like it. The predictability gives me as if there's a baseline I can count on, you know? The world gets a little bit blurrier, less real as if…it's not so bad, being alive…"

"You know weed heightens emotions most of the time, right? That makes it anything, but predictable."

The image flipped as if the screen had been reversed. And a glass inside my mind got broken. I could hear the sound it made, so I reached for my forehead in an attempt to keep the shards contained.

"You alright? Have some water."

"It used to be…"

"What?" He handed me a cold-water bottle and stayed by my side as if ready for anything.

"It used to be more predictable. When I was alone all the time. I was mostly numb…and now…I don't know. I feel like I am on a rollercoaster and I keep waiting for the ride to stop while I am in the middle of the fall."

"You're one of those who get metaphorical when high, kid?"

"Thank you," I said, after taking a small sip out of the bottle and pushing it towards him right after.

He patted me on the shoulder.

The room seemed like it was filled with smoke even after he cracked the window. I could still see it.

"What are you going to do with the information I gave you?"

"About?"

"Namjoon! Don't tell me you already forgot?"

"Oh. No." I checked the phone and saw no missed calls and no messages. And something in my chest started to burst and left behind a high-pitched sound that kept screaming in my ears. "I'll apologize."

"For what?"

"For thinking it was his fault."

"But he thinks it is his fault! And you said you won't tell him you were here. Besides, I don't think he'll be happy that I told you what I just did…"

"Then I should just…" With movements that seemed to last forever, I buried my head in my arms on the open kitchen counter that doubled as a table and sighed. "I don't know. What should I do?" I looked up to witness his pained expression.

"I think I overestimated your tolerance." He said to himself, quietly.

"You did? My what?"

"Never mind. So, the best thing you could do now is to open that can of worms and air it out."

"And say what?" Hands spread on the counter, I felt myself smiling when I heard him mimicking my own voice:

"Repeat after me: I don't care what happens to those other guys, I just don't want You to get hurt."

Wide-eyed and a bit flustered, I tried: "I don't care what happens to those guys…I don't want you to get hurt."

"No, no. Add some feeling to it. Come on, try again."

"Oh, pheff!" I pouted and leaned back in the chair, "He's not even going to get hurt. I should show you a picture of the other guys. They're half his size. At least the two in our class. There's no chance they'd beat him in a fight."

"Yeah, if they play fair. Which they might not."

"You like to talk in circles, don't you?"

"There's more than one way to skin a cat, Jungkook."

"No. He can't get hurt." I mumbled like a child.

"He's only human, you know? And there are things like knives and guns…"

"No. I don't want him to get hurt. I won't allow it."

"That's what I am saying! Use that tone too! Tell him that and maybe he'll listen. If you show concern about the other guys…that'll make things worse for them." He smiled, yet my hands turned into fists.

We chatted some more, drank some more water and half a cup of hot chocolate later, I was in a taxi, on my way home when my brain convinced me that I had probably missed his text. Checked the phone and saw that no one had called or messaged me.

'Why am I worried? He doesn't even care where I am anymore.'

I left the taxi a few meters away from his street only to zone out while trying to see anything through the covered windows before colliding with the tiny locked gate.

'Shit.'

I struggled with the lock for what seemed like infinity and went inside carefully.

'Look normal. Pretend you're sober. All is fine. Normal speed. What is normal speed anyway? I should just go to bed and…'

The back door was open. Revealing Namjoon dressed in the same white T-shirt and black pants he wore at school, watering the plants with a hose in one hand and an almost empty bottle of wine in the other.

Tears gathered in my throat, but I didn't want to let them flow. I just let the backpack fall to the ground and ran up to him, barefoot.

I barely felt the small pebbles that got stuck on my feet when I back hugged him like a child.

"What are you doing?" He asked, not even turning around to look at me.

I started crying. No. I bawled my eyes out in the next second, begging: "Don't drink. Don't be sad. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have blamed you. Who cares if they die? Who cares if I die? I only care if you don't die. So, don't die. Please."

"Who said anything about dying?" He asked, voice slightly softer. Hose turned off. "Why are you crying?"

He dropped it to the ground and for the first time in days, he touched my hand, mostly to pull me in front of him, but I held on tight.

"If you fight and they fight back. You might get hurt. Don't get hurt. That's how you can protect me, that's the only way…"

I buried my head in his back and wet his shirt with my tears. Sobbing loudly. Talking to Fred in my head saying: I didn't consider him getting hurt, why did you put that in my head?

He sighed. And then said:

"Too late."

"What?" I asked, breathless.

I let go and faced him.

I examined his face and arms, neck, and the little I could see of his legs.

"What do you mean? Did you fight them already? What do you mean?!" I screamed. He smiled.

"Not exactly. But I did have to fight someone else and I got hurt…but don't get sad abou…."

I embraced him from the front, unable to catch my breath. I was actually pleased when the bottle fell from his hand after I pretty much jumped on him.

"Where? Where'd you get hurt?"

"I'd tell you if you'd stop squeezing me…I like the rare times when you're the one embracing me, but right now, it kinda hurts."

Eyes wide, it hit me.

I stepped back and reached for his pants. When he realized that, he smiled warmly and before I could pull on them, he lifted up his shirt to reveal a bandage that covered his entire stomach.

The tears stopped, but the pain inside my body kept going.

"Who?" I whispered and traced the white fabric for a moment before he released the shirt and kissed every single finger.

"It doesn't matter." He whispered back.

"The hell it doesn't! Who was it?! Why didn't you tell me?! Since when?!" I screamed with no regard to whom might hear.

"Shh. Let's go inside." He came closer to me, and the alcohol strained breath made me even angrier.

"I am not going anywhere! Who hurt you?! Why didn't you go to a hospital?!"

"Who do you think bandaged me?"

"How should I know? You never tell me anyt…!"

He kissed me. Probably to shut me up. Or maybe because he was drunk, but despite all the anger and sadness, I missed it too much to stop it.

His tongue circled mine, lips sucked, and teeth bit. I was running out of breath but wished he'd keep going. Just so, I wouldn't have to think about the person who had clearly cut him.

We breathed into each other's open mouths, not being able to go on and yet not wanting to stop.

Too drunk and too high.

'A match made in heaven, he said.' I chuckled, Namjoon smiled even though he didn't know why I started laughing. He gave my forehead a peck and pulled me inside. He closed the backdoor and sat down.

I was right next to him when the words: "It wasn't Min Yoongi. It was revenge." Left his mouth.

"For what?"

"For stealing drugs."

"You stole…"

"Not exactly. They were ours, to begin with. We just took them back, but from their point of view…"

"But when did you do that?"

"I didn't. Fred did. Remember? When he got robbed?"

"Yeah."

"They couldn't get him alone, so they paid a guy to pretend to be a normal junkie wanting some and he stabbed me. Eye for an eye. Plain and simple."

The way he talked was as if he said: A guy walked into a bar, I said hi, he said hi and then he offered me a drink. So, I drank it.

I was bewildered.

"And what did you do?"

"What else? Got him locked up."

"What…?"

"It was so easy. It all came to me like a freaking joker at a poker session."

"What did you do…?"

He seemed excited to tell me:

"Hid all the drugs I had on me in his pockets. And called the police with a knife to his back."

I shoot him a concerned look. "What? How did you expect me to keep him from running? I made a pretty compelling case when they turned up, I was bleeding and holding onto his shirt like a damsel in distress. The guy was a coward, also, the cops showed up fast. Faster than I thought was possible. It was a miracle that they didn't see the knife. I was blessed that day." He finished with a nostalgic stare and a smile.

"Wait, which day? When did this happen?"

"After we got into a fight about, you know… mint hair."

"That's not possible! We had a shower together the next day! And I didn't see…"

"Did I ever let you see my chest?"

"No. But…why did you hide it from me?"

"It wasn't that deep, so I didn't want you to worry. I'm almost healed. I tell you, that guy sucked."

"Luckily!"

"Yeah. I mean, it was no fun, but yeah. I didn't want to add more salt to the wound after what we just talked about. I didn't want you to assume anything, you were on edge, and…"

I hugged him, no, I held him still as I refused to let myself start crying and enunciated every word: "I don't care. Never hide that you're hurt from me ever again. Never. Alright?"

"Alright. But it doesn't hurt much now. Well, it does a bit when you hug me hard."

"Sorry…" I pulled back and looked at his front as if I was seeing it the first time.

"So, what was with all the dying stuff?"

"What stuff?"

"You know, you said you don't care if anyone else dies, but that I shouldn't die. And some bullshit about you dying which by the way, you're not allowed to do."

I chuckled.

"You just won't allow it, huh?"

"I won't."

"Is that how life and death works?" I joked.

"It does now, yes." He reached for my waist and just kept holding me, face near, but not enough to kiss me.

I sighed. His blurry eyes were fixed on my lips, I took advantage of it and said: "Don't get hurt. I don't want you to get hurt. Promise you'll try to avoid fighting, so you don't get hurt."

"I promise."

I leaned closer. And then back when he added: "I might not be successful. People keep coming at me, but I'll try my best." He smirked with a faint laugh.

"Just run," I whispered, dead serious.

"No fun." He whispered back and to my surprise, embraced me.

I lightly embraced him back.

"Did minty even talk to you again?"

"No."

"Figures…"

'Did you talk to Yoongi?' I thought.

And then, eyes closed. Drowning in the warmth of his body over mine, it hit me. I leaned back and looked straight in his eyes, as blurry as they were:

"You're telling me that the reason why you didn't touch me for days was that you got stabbed and not because…!" And then my voice died and a blush emerged while I kept him at an arm's length by his shoulders.

"Because? And now you want to be touched? You used to say…"

"Shut up. And answer."

"You didn't ask anything."

"You avoided me because you were stabbed?!"

"Why are you yelling? And yes, obviously."

"I thought…oh."

I smiled, filled to the brim with the most conflicting happiness I've ever felt.

Then I heard:

"And because you used my own words against me."

His face was somber. I could feel the resentment floating between us like tiny dark flies.

"Mm…" I heard myself let out odd sounds without being able to continue with anything else, but: "I am sorry."

"Good," Namjoon said sharply and continued to look at my face with the same expression.

"I shouldn't have said what I said. And it wasn't your fault, you were just a child."

"Right."

"And if we ever do that thing, the therapy thingy again, we'll both have to agree when it's over."

"Right."

"And I shouldn't have teased you when you were mad. I should've apologized from the start."

"You think?"

"I promise, we'll keep going with that confession technique until we're both ok with the final decision."

"But you'll tease me again when I am mad?"

"Probably?" I stared at the ceiling, finger on lip, "You never know what might happen in the future so I'd rather not promise something that feels like a lie off the bat."

"…"

"What?" I innocently asked.

"I want to bite you."

"Why?" I retreated my hands and protected my chest only to have him leaning in and biting my cheek.

"What the actual hell?!"

And then my neck.

"Stop. No!"

And my earlobe.

"Are you a dog?! It hurts! It freaking…"

And then he whispered with a low tone: "I want to…" He didn't continue.

I felt my face heating up.

It started raining.

Leaning on elbows, I looked at his serious face and swallowed.

He leaned in for a kiss and his tongue went through my lips before his lips made contact.

One hand went on my bareback and the other pushed me down gently.

We were on top of each other. Chest on the chest. The mouth on mouth. Belly on the belly.

I could taste the wine on his tongue. And he could probably smell the weed on my clothes.

But he didn't seem to care.

He just placed a peck on my cheek, and then circled his tongue at the right side of my neck.

The hand that was on my back lifted the shirt and the other helped it off.

My skin was cold against his fingers.

And the lower he went, the more I felt like I was about to have a heart attack.

"Namjoon…I don't think we should do this now." This is the sentence I quickly said while he took off his own shirt to reveal smaller cuts on the front of his arms.

'How did I not see these either?!'

"Why not?" He asked, looking upset. And his slurred speech was now more obvious than before.

"We're both…intoxicated. We should be sober for this."

"You're saying that you'll be sober?"

'He didn't mean that…'

I kept him at an arm's length and yet, they both bent the moment he decided to lean back in.

"Yeah. I'll be." I said, instantly regretting it.

"That'd be really stupid of you since it'll probably hurt like hell."

"That's why I think we should wait…"

"Hmm…" He fucked the inside of my ear and grazed my nipple repeatedly. "One finger." He whispered.

"No," I said, in one breath.

He didn't stop, nor seemed discouraged. He actually smirked in my ear.

"Two."

"Stop it." I squirmed under his touch yet felt unable to pull away, mesmerized by the heat of our bodies as if trapped in a spell.

"If I never start preparing you, then I'll never, ever… fit inside you."

Those words left my heart beating faster and my eyes wide. Fingers released my nipple from their harsh game of pinch and twist, only to quickly slide my pants off with no time for my mind to catch up. I simply heard myself scream: "University!"

"What?" He looked up from between my legs.

"I want to do it on the first day of college, or university. Whatever we end up in."

"You really think I'd take you after you said no? Huh?" He smiled; a bit sad. And clearly drunk.

'I wonder if it's just as obvious to you when I am high…'

"No, it's just…I am sure you wanted to and we never talked about it. So, I thought…"

"Fine." He exhaled.

I grinned, happy like a scared virgin girl that just bought herself more time to be a religious pure maiden.

But the smile faded when he still pulled both my pants and boxers down to my ankles and was trying to get them off my feet.

"Why are you still undressing me?! You just said you'll wait for…"

"That just means I've plenty of time to stretch you out."

I laid down hitting my head against the floor and squirming right and left. Completely naked.

"You can't do this to me…your fingers are so long and…"

My body stood still the second his fingers wrapped around my cock.

"No…" I cried out in his mouth like a spoiled brat. But the tongue still went while the other hand succeeded in making me hard.

"Then use yours." He suggested.

I shook my head.

"Ha." He sucked on my tongue and then kissed my chin. "You think I am being mean, but there are only a few months left until… you'll hate me."

"Hate you? Why? Hey…" He played with my tip whilst glaring at it.

'Have you got no shame?'

I noticed that his mind was clearly wandering. That made me more than happy to keep him talking, but then I heard the word: "Girlfriend. I had one and she…wasn't even a virgin."

It hurt. I had no idea why, but him, talking about another girl he did with his hand on my cock made my chest ache.

"And she hated it for a long time. Always complained that I was too big. To be honest, I wasn't being as careful with her as I am with you. But… she was no, un-plucked flower, so I assumed she could take it. She could get wet on her own too."

'Am I jealous or scared I might end up complaining the same right now? I can't tell…'

"But she…couldn't. Now I know I should've prepared her a bit, cared more about her…reactions to it, or maybe wait until she …"

The sentence ended, the hand stroked, but my erection started dying and my eyes were probably wide.

"I don't want you to hate me." The other hand caressed my cheek as he put all weight on his knees. "So, let me get you used to it before…the first day of university."

'That day is now cursed, isn't it?' A smile full of self-pity tried me, but the serious, quite drunk expression had me nodding.

"Thanks." He kissed me. A long, wet makeup session followed with me, back against the wall, socks on, rain pouring, knees up to the chest, and asshole exposed.

One long saliva-coated finger slipped in, between the kisses on my collarbone.

That finger wasn't all in and it hurt.

That alone hurt.

Thinking of the genitals that I couldn't even suck on properly made me want to cry.

'What did I get myself into?'

"Are you okay?" The finger moved.

I nodded.

The finger went a bit deeper.

"Don't…" I immediately kept his hand still. "Not yet."

He kept going as before without changing much besides the place he was hitting. Swirling his finger around as if he was looking for something. I found it hard to keep my tongue moving and feel what I was feeling at the same time.

Eyes closed, I moaned when he hit something that felt just a tiny bit pleasurable.

"Hmph…"

He kept hitting the same spot and I slightly jumped every single time. Cock getting bigger and hitting my stomach gently.

Without looking, sucking on my tongue, he reached for it and started stroking it. My hands used to be holding onto the back of my hips, but my legs went flat on the cold wooden floor after I couldn't stop trembling. All energy, gone.

I was losing focus when sensations that I had never experienced kept happening out of my control.

'Soap.' I thought.

I was trying to release my tongue when an orgasm that didn't start nor end with an ejaculation came.

I pushed him away, but even if his mouth was farther, his hands kept doing the same thing. I was shaking and tearing up, wet with precum and losing my mind.

Finger went in and out, I could see it as clear as day. And the moaning grew louder and louder without my permission. With no time to form any words.

When the strongest orgasm of my life finished just as weirdly as it started. My toes twitched, my mouth salivated and my eyes got wet whilst fixated on the ceiling. I could feel myself tightening around his finger.

But despite my reaction, he kept going. I could feel the shape of his finger, the nail, and my insides preventing him from probing any further as if they filled up against the intruder.

The orgasm I was expecting sprayed itself onto my stomach next while my hole was still being fucked with no regard to my hand that was on top of his forearm. Though I couldn't blame him much since I was pretty much just holding onto him, without having the strength to signal him to stop in any way.

He stopped after he squeezed out every last drop and leaned in for a kiss, took the hand I had on his, and guided it towards his pants, but I was slipping away and crawling towards the bathroom the second his finger exited my body.

I could feel him watching me as cum dripped to the floor.

I shut and locked the door in his face.

Breathing so heavily and fast that my head was spinning. The thunder echoing inside the now, the silent house created shadows in the cold bathroom.

"Jungkook? Are you ok? What happened?"

I slid down the door as he tried to open it and couldn't.

"Did I hurt you? Jungkook!?"

Shaking, ears covered, I screamed back:

"Just give me a minute!"

He did.

'To do what?' I thought to myself. Thinking of the empty stash and the slight idea that no pain pill could possibly make the pulsating sensation that the orgasm left in its way dissipate.

The more rain poured and the more time passed, the less control I had over my breathing.

'I screwed up again.'

Hands-on chest, knees on the floor, I started hyperventilating.

He probably heard something.

"Jungkook! Are you alright?! Let me in! I promise I won't do anything! I swear on my life. Jungkook?!"

More minutes passed in which I tried to catch my breath.

Thinking of how I'd just walk out and pretend it was nothing in just a bit.

But I couldn't get it to stop. Desperate for some relief, I could think of only one thing.

"Jungkook!" He banged on the door. "Want me to call an ambulance?! What do you want me to do?!"

I crawled to the sink and filled it with water.

Hands-on on either side of the white shiny material, I submerged my whole face underwater and held my breath. I did this again and again.

He banged on the door again and again.

"Jungkook! What's wrong?! Are you sick?! Bleeding?! Are you having an attack again? Jungkook! TALK TO ME!"

The thunder wasn't as loud as his voice was then.

The shaking got worse.

That voice was a voice of a man that was ready to tear down the door.

That voice was a voice I never thought Namjoon was capable of.

And that voice made me stop exhaling. I inhaled instead. Mostly, out of shock.

The same voice got me screaming back: "Green! Get me green! From Fred! Quick."

It was silent for a while. Not even I was perturbing the song of the rain.

Embarrassment overtook all the other emotions like an overbearing mother.

'He might think I am just a junkie again…I need to take it back and…'

Then the slam of the front door echoed in tandem with the thunder.

I was alone.

I wasn't even sure I wanted to smoke. I was actually certain that it might make it worse.

But that was all I could think of that'd make him leave and at the same time, a part of me was terrified of the sober me I'd have to face in a few hours.

'Why am I panicking about it? He said he'll wait. He wasn't too forceful…He…I…What's wrong with me?'

I was watching my reflection in the water. I realized I wasn't hyperventilating anymore after a few minutes. All that was left was the pain, riding the adrenaline like a Trojan-sized horse inside every single vein of my body.

Tears hit and combined themselves with the water.

'It felt good. Strange, but alright. So, why am I like this? Why did he keep going when I wanted him to stop? Why didn't I say that damn safe word? Why did I even want him to stop when I wanted him to touch me for a week?! Why did that orgasm feel so weird?! What even was that!'

I hit my face with the water and looked at the ceiling, feeling my chest growing tighter.

'No. I can't take this feeling…No. I refuse…'

I opened the pill cabinet and looked around for any pain pill. My eyes wondered upon the numerous pills I had never heard of. Plenty was targeted at blood vessels, bones, and stomach pains.

'His grandma's?'

And just when I was about to take the one pain tablet, I was familiar with, I spotted another one that I recognized. A small tiny see-through bottle in the lower corner grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

'Sleeping pills?'

I heard the clear, crisp sound that my phone made when it received a message and my whole nervous system lit up with it.

I opened the bottle as my response. Took one out and put it back in the exact same position.

Placed the pill on my tongue and with the water that was still in the sink, I helped it go down.

I spent a few minutes, staring at myself in the mirror with pure hatred. A few more at the bottle, trying to remember if it was in that exact same position. I left the bathroom after I convinced myself there was no way to make myself remember if it was in that exact position anyway.

The water was still in the sink when Namjoon had returned.