Jungkook

I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to go to class. I definitely don’t want to go job hunting again. I don’t want to do anything but keep this pillow pulled over my eyes, because it’s creating a nice barrier between myself and every mirror in this apartment.

I don’t want to look in the mirror, because I’m scared I’ll see myself for who I really am this time. A boy with no morals or respect for other people’s relationship.

I can’t believe I kissed him last night.

I can’t believe he kissed me.

I can’t believe I broke into tears the second he pulled away from me and I saw the look on his face. I didn’t think it was possible to cram so much regret and sorrow into one expression. Seeing how much he regretted being in that moment with me was one of the biggest blows my heart has ever taken. It hurt worse than what Hoseok did to me. It hurt worse than what Taehyung did to me. But as much as it hurt seeing the regret on his face, it was nothing compared o the guilt and shame I felt when I thought of what I had done to Yoongi. What be had done to Yoongi.

I knew the moment he put his hand on my chest and moved closer to me that I should have flown off the bed and made him leave the room.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

The closer he moved and the longer we stared at each other, the more my body was consumed by need. It wasn’t a basic need, like a need for water when I’m thirsty or a need for food when I’m hungry. It was an insatiable need for relief. Relief from the want and desire that had been pent up for so long.

I never realized how powerful desire could be. It consumes every part of you, enhancing your senses by a million. When you’re in the moment, it enhances your sense of sight, and all you can do is focus on the person in front of you. It enhances your sense of smell, and suddenly, you’re aware of the fact that his hair has just been washed and his shirt is fresh out of the dryer. It enhances you craving to be touched. It enhances your sense of taste, and your mouth becomes hungry and wanting, and the only thing that can satisfy is the relief of another mouth in search of the same.

But the sense my desire enhanced the most?

Hearing.

As soon as Jimin placed the headphones in my ears and the music began to play, the hair on my arms rose, chills erupted from skin, and it felt as if my heart rate slowly conformed to the beat of the song.

As much as Jimin craved that sense, too, he couldn’t experience it. In that moment, all of his other senses combined failed to make up for the one sense he desired the most. He wanted to hear me just as much as I wanted him to hear me.

What happened between us didn’t happen because we were weak. Jimin didn’t run his hand up my jaw and around to the back of my head simply because I was in front of him and he was in the mood to make out. He didn’t press his body against mine because he thinks I’m attractive and knew it would feel good. He didn’t part my lips with his because he enjoys kissing and knew he wouldn’t get caught.

Despite how hard we tried to fight it, all of those things happened between us because our feelings for each other becoming so much stronger than our desire. Desire is easy to fight. Especially when the only weapon desire possesses is attraction.

It’s not so easy when you’re trying to win a war against the heart.

The house has been quiet since I woke up more than an hour ago. The more I lie here and allow myself to think about what happened, the less I want to face him. I know if we don’t get it over with, the confrontation will only be harder the longer we wait.

I reluctantly get dressed and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. His bedroom is quiet, and he usually has late nights that result in late mornings, so I decide to let him sleep. I’ll wait it out in the living room. I hope Namjoon and Jin are either occupied with each other in a bed somewhere or still asleep, because I don’t know if I can take either of them this morning.

I open the door and walk into the living room.

I pause.

Turn around, Jungkook. Turn around and go back to your room.

Jimin is standing at the bar. However, it isn’t the sight of Jimin that’s rendered me completely immobile. It’s the boy he’s pressed against. It’s the boy he’s looking directly at, as if he’s the only thing that has, does, and will ever matter to him. It’s the boy who planted himself between me and my maybe someday.

Namjoon exits his bedroom and sees them standing together in the kitchen. “Hey, Yoongi. I thought you weren’t coming for a couple more weeks.”

Yoongi spins around at the sound of Namjoon’s voice. Jimin’s eyes move from Yoongi over to me. His body tenses, and he stands up straighter, putting a slight distance between the two of them.

I’m still immobile, or I’d be putting distance between myself and all the three of them.

“I’m about to leave,” Yoongi says and signs simultaneously, facing Namjoon. Jimin steps away from him, then quickly breaks his gaze from mine and refocuses his attention on Yoongi. “My grandfather was admitted to the hospital yesterday. I got here last night.” He turns and gives Jimin a light peck on the lips, then heads for the front door. “It’s nothing serious, but I’m staying with him until they release him tomorrow.”

“Oh, man. Sorry about that,” Namjoon says. “But you’ll be here the weekend of my party, right?”

Party?

Yoongi nods and takes a step back toward Jimin. He circles his arms around his neck, and he wraps his arms around his waist-two simple movements that completely shatter entire sections of my heart.

He rests his mouth against his and close his eyes. He brings his hands to his face, then pulls back and leans in again to kiss him on the tip of his nose.

Ouch.

Yoongi exits the apartment without ever having noticed that I was standing here. Jimin closes the door behind him, turns around, and brings his eyes back to mine with an unreadable expression.

“What are we doing today?” Namjoon asks, moving his head back and forth between Jimin and me. Neither of us breaks our stare to respond to him. After several seconds, Jimin makes the slightest movement with his eyes, motioning toward his bedroom. He turns to Namjoon and signs something, and I walk back to my room.

It’s amazing how many reminders I’ve had to give my organs in the last three minutes that should be basic, common knowledge.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Contract, expand.

Beat, beat, pause. Beat, beat, pause.

Inhale, exhale.

I walk to the bathroom and head for Jimin’s bedroom. It was obvious he wants to talk, and I still think confronting it now is better than waiting. It’s definitely better than not confronting it at all.

The journey across the bathroom is only a few feet and should take no longer than a few seconds, but I somehow stretch it out for five whole minutes. I place