Taehyung isn’t happy. 

He’s been giving me the cold shoulder since my arrival at his house, not even bothering to open the door for me and even stomping up the stairs for good measure. I follow him, rolling my eyes behind his back and pulling out my tongue so that his smaller sister— her name is Taehee and she’s only a mere eight years old— giggles happily, clapping her hands. 

I push the door open to his room, noting that it’s still clean, as it has always been. Contrary to other boys, Taehyung has quite a charm with design and there’s never been a single moment that I had to scrunch up my nose because of the smell of sweaty clothes or where I had to wade through piles and piles of clothes to get to the bed. It’s neat and clean, everything having it’s own safe place except for his study table where piles of books are open, multicoloured notes stuck on different pages to mark important information while his pens are scattered across his desk. One would feel as though they were interrupting his study session, but that’s Taehyung’s hobby: to study.

There’s never been a single moment that this table has ever been cleared. Ever. 

The boy in question is sitting on his office chair, poignantly facing towards the door with his form hunched over his book, making it adamant that he doesn’t feel like talking about the issue between us just yet. I sigh in exasperation, knowing that if I don’t do something now, his sulking can go on forever. Once Taehyung’s mad, you need to know how to play with his emotions and feelings so that he warms up to you again. He has a very bad habit of ignoring ones he wants to ignore and never saying sorry if he knows he’s not at fault, and right now even someone as stubborn as I am know that I’m in the wrong. 

“Taehyung,” I chide, walking up to his chair before peering over at the stack of papers he holds in his hands. I’m pretty sure he’s not even reading them, for the white texture of his knuckles indicate that he’s trying to control as much of his emotions as possible. He’s angrier than I thought he’d be and for god knows what reason. 

“Taehyung” I say again but he makes as though he can’t hear me. His eyes don’t even twitch. I lean over his table to peer at his face and just as I predicted, his eyes are dark and sullen, almost appearing cold to someone who doesn’t know him that well. His mouth is turned into a tense line as though he wants to pout but restrains himself due to his male ego, and when I try tilting my head to catch his eye, he avoids my gaze like the plague. 

“Taehyung” I sigh for second time. Is he really going to act like this now? As though he’s a child in need of bribing in order to get a response out of him?

“I don’t understand why you’re mad,” i cross my arms over my chest defiantly with my eyes burning in frustration. I had never expected him to be the kind of person to sulk for such petty things and here I am, trying to coax him out of his shell just because I had the audacity to read Jimin’s letter and reply back to him. It’s not such a big deal, why is he acting as though it’s the end of the world? I don’t need unnecessary drama in my life and right now. Taehyung’s being a complete brat. 

“Do you remember how much of mess you were that day?” When Taehyung finally speaks, his voice is rough and filled with an emotion I can’t decipher, a raw sense of truth that rings through my skull. Looking away, I nod and reply, “you don’t have to remind me.”

“Exactly” his eyes flash up to meet mine for a few brief seconds. All I can make out is the frustration and underlying irritation in his maroon swirls, “You know how that feels, being broken hearted, like the world is falling apart, like it’s a huge effort to even get out of bed in the morning,” he pauses for a few beats of silence, biting down on his lip. One may think that he’s nervous, but I’m pretty sure by his action of clenching and unclenching his hands is a sign of agitation. Like I mentioned before, Taehyung has a very limited reserve of tolerance when it comes to emotional situations, specially ones where his anger spikes through the roof. I don’t actually remember what had happened back then, but a few months back when a guy had started feeling up a girl on the bus, Taehyung had taken notice of his actions and with a roar— without even looking around for help nor weighing the pros and the cons of jumping into such a dangerous situation— he took the man down and would’ve punched him to death if not for people pulling him away from the broken-nosed man. He had had to pay a fine for physical assault even though he’d done it for the greater good, but the law is the law and I remember how he trailed his feet all the way home when thinking about the money he threw out of the window because of some stupid issue that just went out of control. 

“Jimin did it once with you, and maybe he regrets it now. But if he’s already done it, he can do it again.” Taehyung states coldly, “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up, not after all this time.”

“Is it written stupid on my forehead?” I ask him as I point towards the said area. I try to make it sound like a joke but deep down I’m hurt that Taehyung doesn’t think better of me. 

The said man shoots me a poignant look, “Yes, because you are.”

When he talks, it’s almost as though he’s trying to reprimand some kind of not to go screwing around guys without a because of STD or surprising pregnancy of something. He looks at me as though I have something repulsive scattered across my face and I don’t like that one bit, not that I can say anything in my defence though, because he’s right, to the logical extent of reasoning. 

I know that whatever is saying is for my own good. He’s just a good guy like that, and gets very protective of people messing with others. I still wonder why they’re still friends after everything Jimin has ever done, but that’s not something I should question. People make bad choices which results in mistakes, maybe Jimin has his fair of mistakes for which he’s now trying to redeem himself. 

He broke the little trust I had in him within the blink of an eye and the utter of a few single words, one sentence. But I’m not the same girl I used to be; all naive and vulnerable and really scared of putting one foot forward due to the consequences that might follow after. I’ve grown in all possible ways, I’ve matured and I don’t want to continue resenting Jimin for the rest of my life. Sure, he did something pretty bad, but most humans do bad things without realizing the gravity of their actions in the first place, and that’s life, you know? Making mistakes and trying to make up for it in the end, trying to be the better person. 

I don’t want to feel as though I’m battling it out with him anymore, I don’t want us to be at war with mixed feelings and emotions that we left behind years ago. 

“Look, Tae” my tone softens when I notice the clench in his jaw, “I’m not saying I forgive him to the extent that we can start over and make as if nothing happened. But I don’t want to feel this distance between us anymore, this wall that’s been blocking us from each other ever since that happened. If I forgive him, maybe I’ll be able to look forward and be more optimistic about the future. How can I do that if I still have past ties that I haven’t cleared up yet?” 

“Not everything can be forgotten with mere forgiveness,” he replies bitterly, “Sometimes you just have to forget things ever happened.”

“That’s cowardly” I point out, “I may be foolish, but I’m not a coward.”

“Whatever, Kim” his eyes are dark and angry, blazing with fire when they meet mine for the briefest instant before dropping away, “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

“Come on,” I punch his arm lightly in an attempt to lift the sour mood, “Wanna get some ice cream?”

He’s quiet for a moment, probably contemplating whether an ice cream is worth forgiving me for, or whether he prefers his pride. But then he mumbles a soft, “If you’re paying.”

“Fine. Just today though,” and I grin at him, pleased that I have managed to bribe him into talking to me again.

I eventually forgot about my reply to Jimin’s email, stuffing it at the back of my mind so that I won’t have to dwell on its content too much. If I did, I’d panic and ask myself why I did that in the first place. There has been no reply since, maybe because he has not bothered to read it, or maybe because he has changed emails in the first place, which would not surprise me. The summer holidays drone on with tireless, heat, more ice cream to cool our heads and numerous outdoor activities; skateboarding, swimming, sunbathing…you name it, they’ll probably do it. 

The summer season’s the only time where we can truly relax and enjoy the glittering sun rays bathing our bodies with eternal warmth. It’s one of my favourite seasons, not just because I don’t have to wear five layers before going out and looking like a complete snowman, but because summer emits this feeling of true happiness that’s so contagious. It fills you up with bubbles and makes you want to prance around, roll about in the grass. It’s the feeling of being carefree and not worrying about what is to come tomorrow. In a way, I guess it’s like falling in love, the stage of where you don’t really think of the consequences and just drown yourself into it, giving it your all until you realize it’s too late. 

It’s about two weeks later that Aejung celebrates her twentieth birthday. From the card itself, I can deduce that it’s going to be a humongous gatherer of people and when the day finally comes for us to go, I stand shakily in front of my mirror, wondering why I’m feeling so nervous and panicky by just a mere birthday party. I smooth my hands over the black classy dress I’ve put on or the occasion, trying to calm down my raging mind and rapid thoughts spinning through my brain as though they are rockets flying through space, all jumbled and confused. 

“Kim? Taehyung’s here.” My mother taps on my door. I turn to her and nod before saying, “I’ll be right down.”

“You really should wear dresses more often. It changes you,” she muses jokingly before moving on to her own room. I want to roll my eyes, my mother will never give up hope that one day I’ll follow in her footsteps and transform into the feminine butterfly that she is. Unfortunately, I realized a little too soon that I preferred shopping for books instead of trying on numerous pair of clothes. It saddens her a little to think that her only daughter does not share her interests. 

Grabbing my bag and taking one last peek at the mirror, I make my way out of my room and wobble down the stairs in my high heels. Taehyung stands at the bottom of the stairs next to the doorway, and the sound of my high heels on the wooden floor makes him tilt his head up. Our eyes meet for the briefest moment and after a few seconds, I’m rewarded with his crooked, rectangular smile, the smile I’ve grown fond of, the smile that’s helped me through a lot of trouble, a smile that gives me hope. 

“Hey stranger,” he teases upon seeing me wobble unsteadily and grab at his shoulder for balance. I shoot him a pointed look, daring him to go there, “Don’t you dare say anything more, Kim Taehyung.” 

“I didn’t do anything” he rolled his eyes. 

“Mom, we’re going,” I cry out as I drag him out of the house before she can whip out her camera for a picture. He opens the door for me when we reach his car, and I slip in gratefully, grabbing his arm for support before lowering myself in the seat.

I am never wearing heels again, not if I’m going to be holding on to Taehyung all night like a lost puppy. 

We reach Aejung’s condo soon enough. I open the door and struggle