"Just as the body goes into shock after a physical trauma,
so does the human psyche go into shock after the impact of a major loss."

 -Anne Grant

Jungkook

When the Titanic had fatally hit the ice berg, causing the cruise ship to break and sink, it must have been shocking. Awful, even.

When Dasom left Jungkook alone in his room just when he had taken a step of bravery in kissing her, he imagined it like the unforeseen sinking of the Titanic mixed with the force of a car crash, and the falling of a failing plane.

It was abrupt, sudden, quick – and it was awfully painful.

Jungkook had no clue how much time had passed since Dasom had rushed out of his room – out of his kiss. A minute? An hour? Time felt irrelevant as his mind was racing. Did he do something wrong? Was it not the right timing? Did he take steps too quick, too far?

A groan of frustration cut the silence, and he crashed his head back, causing it to unpleasantly meet with the bed's headrest.

“Enough of this” he mumbled to himself, rubbing the stinging spot on his head. “Get a hold of yourself, Jungkook!”

He got up and looked around his room. Looking at it, it could use some cleaning. In fact, Jungkook had been neglecting the cleanliness of his room for a while now. He decided for himself that he would stop letting his feeling get to his head by diving into work.

It had worked plenty of times before. Jungkook had always been able to push his feelings to the side, considering it healthier for his mind to not dwell on things that couldn't be changed in the first place.

Dasom must have had a good reason for her behavior. Maybe she just wasn't ready, or maybe she didn't even like him the way he liked her. So what?

Noticing that, even though he forbade him to think about it, all he could think about, was Dasom.

Pulling at the roots of his jet-black hair, Jungkook flung himself headfirst onto his bed again, the intention of cleaning his room long forgotten. When he inhaled, the subtle scent of Dasom's perfume was still remarkably strong on his pillow – or maybe it had simply burnt itself into his senses.

Why? Why him? Why her? Why now?

Jungkook groaned into his pillow, the sound muffled by the thick cushion. It was the first time since he had met her, that he not only felt the wall he had built around himself crumble, but he was well aware of the increasing size of debris breaking and slowly ripping it apart, leaving him vulnerable to her.

As Jungkook sat up, his vision was black against the light, sprinkled with white dots where the pressure of his palms had been to strong on his closed lids. His hair stood in every direction, his clothes were crinkled – there wasn't much of the once-so-composed Jeon Jungkook left.

He dragged himself up, his dull thoughts weighing his body down, making it hard for him to function. There was no use in sulking, he was still sure of this, but it turned out harder than he had expected it. At this rate, he could have might as well flung himself out of the window, and it would have had the same effect than going through everything he might have done wrong.

Grabbing his phone from his desk, Jungkook concluded that he might have hit the stage where he needed to talk to someone in order to not explode, since the box in the back of his head was cram full with his past and Dasom, and there simply wasn't any space left.

He decided to text Taehyung and Jimin.

Jungkook 5:53 pm

> meet me @ my dorms lounge. need to talk. please.

Instead of waiting for an answer, Jungkook grabbed his coat, shrugged it on and left his room. There were too many images connected to these four walls, too many thoughts about Dasom and him, that it overwhelmed him. He needed change. Now.

A whiff of alcohol fanned to Jungkook as soon as he pulled his door open. Confused, Jungkook's forehead wrinkled and he stared at Dasom's room door close. The person coming out of it wasn't Dasom, though. And neither was it Nari. It was a male Jungkook had never seen before.

The person was so handsome that not even a man could deny it. He was tall with broad shoulders, a sharp jaw line and doe eyes. Living opposite of Nari for a while now, Jungkook knew that his person was definitely not here to see Nari – and the only other person living in there was Dasom.

A feeling, Jungkook couldn't match to anything he knew, spread in his chest and, without him noticing, his hands balled into fists. Who was he, and what was he doing alone with Dasom when she had just ditched him after he had bravely made the first step?

The person looked back at Jungkook – not just looking, but staring, really – and Jungkook held his glare. The other's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth as to say something, but decided to do otherwise. Instead, he gave Jungkook a curt nod. A nod that seemed like it was a silent message Jungkook wasn't yet able to understand, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

The next second, the man left Jungkook by himself. Walking down the hallway with his hands in his pockets, his appearance resembled a model on a runway – a sad, broken model. From the way he was moving, Jungkook could tell that he was upset, more than that even. And intoxicated. What had happened in Dasom's room that left him in this state? Was he her...boyfriend? No, he would have known. There were no signs of her having a boyfriend. On the other hand, Jungkook had never managed to figure her out in the first place, and, her having a boyfriend would explain why she had practically ran out on him kissing her.

Stop it!, Jungkook admonished himself. Stop desperately looking for an explanation.

For a split second, Jungkook considered knocking on Dasom's door, to ask her what was going on, to demand a reason that made sense. But he knew better than to corner her, since she was the type of person to dive underneath his arm and disappear out of his life forever.

He wanted answers, but he didn't want her disappearing. He needed her.

She made him a little more human.

Angered, he kicked the door frame, letting out a little bit of steam before it literally would escape through his ears like in the cartoons.

Jungkook, you're being unreasonable, he reminded himself. It's probably nothing.

Setting in motion, Jungkook followed the man at safe distance and exited the building. As he stepped outside, full snow flakes descended from the sky, coating the world in a thin layer of white.

Dasom probably only needed time to think. Just like him.

Dalnim

Dalnim lay on her bed, face pressed to the pillow, and imagined what would happen if she just suffocated herself.

Would people miss her? What would happen to Hoseok? Would Jungkook even care?

That's how bad the encounter with Jin made her feel. It recalled what a bad human being she was – if one even wanted to consider her as human anymore.

To herself, she wasn't any better than a monster; a nightmare come to life. All she ever did was hurt and kill – or let somebody kiss her and run out on him, even though it was the most beautiful, astonishing, wondrous thing she had ever felt before.

Feelings, Dalnim thought. Feelings were like little parasites that lodged themselves into your body, your brain, to take over you and make you become someone else. She despised it, but she also liked it.

Feelings confused her.

Feelings made her cry, and she hated crying.

Ergo, Dalnim hated feelings – and that's why she never let herself feel anything.

Until she met Jeon Jungkook, that was.

And what this single boy made her feel, it was almost overwhelming. Things she never thought she would ever feel, things she only read about in books or heard from other people. Things she couldn't name. Things that were just there; right in her heart and her stomach.

And all these tears! Dalnim thought that, by now, all rivers must have run dry. But there they were, soaking right into the pillowcase, leaving wet blots all over the fabric.

Even when her family died, and she, as the only survivor of a tragic accident – at least that's what all the newspapers called her – there were no tears staining her young face. Not once.

Dalnim (11 years ago)

When Dalnim had blinked up into the face of the man that had pulled her out of the water, anger ate her up and she started beating in on him with her tiny fists, which seemed like they couldn't hurt a fly.

“Why?,” she yelled at him, her voice so loud it cracked. “Why, why, why?” With every word, her fists crashed into the man's leg, and he endured it with patience. “I hate you!” He didn't make a sound, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Just then, the sirens of the police – or was it the ambulance? - drew closer to where she was, and Dalnim only had one, logical reaction to it. She her heels, the wet soles of her shoes slipping over the grass, and ran back to where the man had pulled her out of the water. Before she could leap herself back into the lake though, strong arms wrapped around her tiny body, picking her up with ease.

“What are you doing?” the man asked her, but his tone wasn't angry. Worry swung in every word. “You can't go back. You can't...they are...”

“I know!,” she screamed. “Just let me go with them!”

Two police cars and an ambulance stopped next to the man's shabby pick-up truck and paramedics, as well as officers, rushed in their direction. Some went straight to where the car had left the path and crashed through the guardrail into the water.

A female paramedic, maybe in her early thirties, joined the man, who still held tight to Dalnim, her small body struggling against his embrace.

“Mr. Park?” she asked, and the man nodded in response. Then she faced Dalnim, her eyes soft and caring – and full of pity.

“Sweety, why don't you come with me?” she said, stretching her arms out to take her from Mr. Park. “We need to check if you hurt yourself. Does it hurt somewhere?”

Dalnim shook her head, even though her neck and back hurt and felt sore. She didn't want to go with her. She wanted to go with them.

There was no use, though, for Dalnim was way too small and delicate to escape the paramedic's gentle hands. Not that she didn't try.

As soon as they reached the ambulance, the woman lay her on a stretcher, closing the door behind her and signaling the driver to start the car.

“What's your name?” she asked while pointing the bright beam of a flashlight at her eyes.

“M-my...name?,” Dalnim stammered, not understanding why it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. She was alone. Alone.

“Did you forget? Don't worry, it's just the shock. It will come back, I promise.”

After a lot of doctors had run a lot of tests on her, and she endured it without saying a word, she sat on a bed in a single room in the pediatrics of a hospital. Another woman had introduced herself as Miss Choi. She was a social worker and was there to ask Dalnim a lot of questions, that much she got. She didn't see the use in answering, though. She remained as silent as a mute person. As silent as her family was now.

Even though Dalnim was just ten years old at that time, she wished nothing more than to be gone.

Dalnim

All the crying had exhausted Dalnim so much, she simply drifted off into sleep without noticing. It was a dreamless, functional sleep, and as she woke up to her alarm clock the next morning, she had decided in a second to none that she couldn't possibly go to classes today for exactly two reasons.

1) she wouldn't be able to concentrate, so going would be a drag, and, more crucially, 2) because she couldn't face Jungkook. Not after what she told him, not after he saw her cry – and not after what she did to him.

What was that feeling? She had felt it before when Jin had been in her room. Sorry? No, Dalnim never felt sorry. On another note, she didn't know what 'sorry' felt like, so it was still a possibility.

When she fell asleep again, she dreamed.

She dreamed about a luscious, green meadow with blooming flowers and swarms of butterflies in every shape and size – but they were all beautiful. Dalnim stood in the middle of it, her feet bare and her eyes closed. Even though she couldn't see her surroundings, she could still feel them. Suddenly, the butterflies began rummaging. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, so Dalnim opened her eyes. The sky had turned a shabby gray and the meadow had decayed. A dark figure had appeared on the other side of the scenery. It was swathed in a dark robe, flailing behind it in the sped-up wind. The face lay shadowed behind the large hood, and it held something in its hand. A ghostly chuckle emerged from the dark face, and as it spoke, the voice was only audible in her head. “If I were you, I would leave this behind before