Jimin

It’s been seventy-two hours.

Three days.

Enough time for me to come up with even more things I need to say to Yoongi. Enough time for Namjoon to let me know that Jungkook is finally in his own apartment. He wouldn’t tell me which one, but that’s probably for the best.

Seventy-two hours has also been enough time for me to realize that I miss having Jungkook in my life almost as much as I miss Yoongi. I need to know that he’s okay. I’ve done nothing but pace this apartment since the moment I lost him.

Since the moment I lost both of them.

I pick up my phone and palm it for several minutes, too scared to text him. I’m afraid of what his response will be. When I finally do type out a text, I close my eyes and hit send.

Me: Are you ready to talk about it?

I stare at my phone, waiting for his to respond. I want to know if he’s okay. I want to be able to tell him my side. The fact that he’s more than likely thinking the worst is killing me, and it feels as if I haven’t been able to breathe since he found out about Jungkook and me.

Yoongi: I’ll never be ready, but it needs to be done. I’m home all night.

As ready as I am to see him, I’m also scared to death. I don’t want to see him heartbroken.

Me: I’ll be there in a hour.

I grab my things and head straight out the door-straight back to the half of my heart that needs the most mending.

.

.

.

I have a key to his place. I’ve had a key to his place for three years, but I haven’t had to ring his doorbell in all that time.

I’m ringing his doorbell right now, and it doesn’t feel right. It feels as though I’m asking permission to break through an invisible barrier that shouldn’t even be here in the first place. I take a step away from the door and wait.

After several painfully long seconds, he opens the door and makes brief eye contact with me as he steps aside to let me in. I pictured him on the drive over with his hair a mess, eyeliner smudged from all the crying, and sporting three-day-old pajamas. The typical heartbroken attire for a boy who just lost all trust in the man he loves.

I think I would rather he looked the way I pictured him than who actually looks. He’s dressed in his typical jeans. He gives me a faint smile as he closes the front door.

I watch him closely, because I’m not sure what to do. Of course, my first instinct is to pull him to me and kiss him, but my first instinct probably isn’t the best.  Instead, I wait until he goes into his living room. I follow him, wishing more than anything that he would turn toward me and throw his arms around me.

He does turn to face me before he takes a seat, but he doesn’t throw his around me.

“Well?” he signs. “How do we do this?” His expression is hesitant and pained, but at least he’s confronting it. I know this is hard for him.

“How about we quit acting like we’re not allowed to be ourselves?” I sign. “This has been the hardest three days of my life, and I can’t go another second without touching you.”

I don’t give him a chance to respond before my arms wrapped around his and I’m pulling his against me. He doesn’t resist. His arms wrap tightly around me, and as soon as my cheek is pressed against the top of his head, I feel him begin to cry.

This is the Yoongi I need. The vulnerable Yoongi. The Yoongi who still loves me, despite what I’ve put him through.

I hug him and pull him to the couch, keeping him secured against me as I still with him now on my lap. We continue to hold each other, neither of us knowing how to begin the conversation. I press a long kiss into his hair.

What I wouldn’t give to just be able to whisper all my apologies into his ear. I want him as close to me as possible while I tell him how sorry I am, but I can’t do that and sign everything I need to say at the same time. I hate these moments in life where I’d give anything to be able to communicate the same way so many others take for granted.

He slowly lifts his face, and I reluctantly let him pull back. He keeps his palms pressed against my chest and looks me directly in the eye.

“Are you in love with him?” he asks.

He doesn’t sign his question; he only speaks it. The fact that he doesn’t sign it makes me think it was too hard for him even to ask. So hard that maybe he doesn’t really want to know the answer, so he didn’t really want me to understand his question.

I did understand it.

I grab both of his hands pressed against my chest, and I lift them, kissing each of his palms before releasing his hands to answer him.

“I’m in love with you, Yoongi.”

His expression is tight and controlled. “That’s not what I asked.”

I look away from him, not wanting him to see the struggle in my eyes. I close them and remind myself that lying won’t get us back to where we need to be. Yoongi’s smart. He also deserves honesty, which isn’t at all what I’ve been giving him. I open my eyes and look at him. I don’t answer him with a yes or a no. I shrug, because I honestly don’t know if I’m in love with Jungkook. How could I be when I’m in love with Yoongi? It shouldn’t be possible for the heart to love more than one person at once.

He diverts his eyes away and scoots off my lap. He stands and slowly walks the length of the living room and back. He’s thinking, so I give him a moment. I know my answer has hurt him, but I know a lie would have hurt him even more. He finally turns to me.

“I can spend all night asking you really brutal questions, Jimin. I don’t want to do that. I’ve had a lot of time to think this through, and I have a lot I need to say to you.”

“If brutal questions will help, then ask me brutal question. Please. We’ve been together five years, and I can’t let this tear us apart.”

He shakes his head, then takes a seat on the couch opposite me. “I don’t need to ask the questions, because I already know all the answers. I just need to talk to you now about where we go from here.”

I lean forward, not liking where this is going. I don’t like it at all. “At least, allow me to explain myself. You can’t come to a decisions bout what happens to us without hearing me out first.”

He shakes his head again, and my heart clenches. “ I already know what you’re going to tell me. You’re going to tell me how much you love me. How you would do anything for me. You’re going to apologize for developing feelings for another boy, despite how hard you tried to prevent that from happening. You’re going to tell me you love me so much more than I know and how your relationship with me is so much more important to you than your feelings fro Jungkook. You’re going to tell me you’ll do anything to make it up to me and that I just need to give you a chance. You’re probably going to be brutally honest with me, also, and tell me that you do have feelings for Jungkook but they don’t compare to how you feel about me.”

He stands and moves to sit next to me on the couch. There are traces of tears in his eyes, but he isn’t crying anymore. He faces me and begins signing again.

“And you know what, Jimin? I l believe you. And I understand all of it. I do. I’ve read your conversations. It’s as if I was right there, sifting through it all while the two of you were attempting to fight whatever was developing between you. I keep telling myself to quit logging back into your account, but I can’t stop. I’ve read those conversations a million times. I deciphered every word, every sentence, every punctuation mark. I wanted to find the spot in your conversations that proved your disloyalty to me. I wanted to find the moment in your conversations where you became this despicable excuse for a man by admitting that what you felt for him was purely ual. God, Jimin. I wanted to find that moment so bad, but I couldn’t I know you kissed him, but even the kiss seemed excusable after the two of you had that open discussion about it. I’m your boyfriend, and even I began to excuse it.

“I’m not saying what you did is readily forgivable, by any means.