He had been with other girls before me and, whether I wanted to admit it or not, chances are he’d be with several more after. But to me, Jungkook was my first. My first kiss, my first time, my first - dare I admit it - love. He would forever hold a special place in my heart, as the one who wasn’t turned off by my ed up story or my horrifically disgusting scars.

I gave Jungkook a quick hug and spun on my heels as I started towards my car. I had just spent a few hours with him at his place, more specifically in his bed, post our shared night class. Halfway down the walkway I paused and turned around, chewing on my lower lip. I so, so desperately wanted to ask him something - no, it was more than that. I needed to ask him, for my own sanity’s sake. And this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do just that.

“Kook, I...I have a question for you...I wanted to know...actuallyforgetitI’lltextyoulatertonight.”

, I thought. Again I failed at asking him. I knew exactly what I wanted to say, but I was too afraid of his response and it made me incapable from voicing the question out loud. I lowly scoffed in disgust at myself and slowly turned around and continued on towards my car.

“No, Y/N, wait. You can ask me now. Please. I want to know.”

Without turning around I shook my head. I was almost at my car when he suddenly appeared in front of me.

“Please Y/N. Please just ask me. I promise I won’t freak out.”

Again I shook my head. I fumbled with my keys as I walked around him on my way to unlock the driver-side door, silently sliding into the seat. Jungkook stood in the door’s way, his hand on the roof, pleading with his big brown puppy eyes that I ask him my question. Fiddling with my hair I searched for the courage to speak, but once again came up empty.

“No Jungkook, not...not now. It’s complicated, and I know you have other plans tonight with...some other friends. I don’t want to keep you. Don’t worry about it. Have a good night.”

I reached for the handle to shut the door, but Jungkook stood fast. He wasn’t going to let me get away without me asking my question, but no matter how I tried, I just couldn’t do it.

“Please Kook, just let me go. It’s no big deal. Honest. I can ask you some other time.”

I lifted my head to meet Jungkook's concerned yet soft stare. He also seemed genuinely perplexed; understandably so, because I never acted like this. And I knew it too. As an English major at our university, I prided myself in always being able to find the right words to describe how I was feeling and for always having tact, strong articulation, and good timing in conversations. Unfortunately, this situation was different. Something about the way he looked at me and the way it made me feel made it difficult to voice my question. But there was something more than that. I briefly flashed back to last summer, when I was fresh out of a stay at the psychiatric facility across from our university. After getting discharged I enrolled in a class here just for fun, something to kill time between doctor’s appointments. I remember pouring out my heart to a guy I thought I could trust, pulling back my shirt sleeves to show the physical scars that matched my mental ones. Just like Jungkook, this guy wasn’t scared either, at least at first, and I was fully convinced I had found “the one.” Yet when I finally managed to ask him where our relationship stood, he balked, claiming that I misread his intentions.

Never before had I felt such overwhelming shame, such immense feelings of inadequacy and disgust. From that experience I vowed to never make myself vulnerable again, guarding my heart with long sleeves and false smiles. But then Jungkook came along, daring to upset the sheltering facade I had created. Now I found myself itching to know his feelings about me, but the damage done last summer left injuries that had yet to heal, and I feared adding salt to the still open wounds.

A sad sigh escaped Jungkook's lips, bringing me back to reality. I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat, eager to shut the door and drive home.

“Look, Jungkook...you have no idea how badly I want to ask you, but I just don’t have the energy to do it. I hope that maybe one day I can...but...it’s just not going to be tonight.”

Jungkook heaved another sigh and took a step back. I hastily shut the car door and revved the engine. Throwing the car in gear, I forced a small smile and nodded at him as I drove off. I let the tears I had been holding back fall, allowing the blanket of night to shelter me.

For months I've wondered how you think of me, I thought. But I am much too shy to ever ask you. So I hide behind shy smiles and quiet hellos, until one day I hopefully muster the strength to ask you my question. The thing is, I knew exactly why I procrastinated asking him. I was afraid of his answer, where in that moment I break, when you oh-so-calmly respond, “I don’t.”

I sped along the old two lane highway, commanding the steering wheel with one arm while the other hanged outside the window. The raised scars on both of my forearms glowed a silver-gray in the moonlight. With my left hand I aimlessly traced the lines that danced along my right arm, dancing a chaotic choreography that travelled the length of the limb. I could remember the story behind each one, and prayed that I would have the self control to not let tonight’s events add another step to this dance.

Flashbacks of my hospitalisation began to play in my mind. As they appeared I felt a strange sense of disconnect from the memories, as if it wasn’t really me they happened to but rather some other hapless likeness of me. Who knows, maybe that’s exactly what happened. Maybe it wasn’t actually me it all happened to, but instead a pathetic, pitiful doppelgänger who shared the same despairing mind and intense self-loathing as me. Everything about it seemed too surreal; a 72-hour involuntary psychiatric hold that began over Easter weekend that then went to be extended beyond those three days until it reached a final total of thirteen days. Apparently playing God and toying with your own mortality is frowned upon, something I had to learn the hard way. The shame that grew from the event added to my already overwhelming depression and was a major factor in my social isolation, one of many reasons why I never thought I'd meet a guy like Jungkook.

The mindless backroads drive finally came to an end as I circled my car around and pulled up against the curb in front of my house. I grabbed my backpack and headed inside, a pained smile painted on my face in hopes of detering any questions from my housemates about the day’s events. Luckily they were too absorbed in their individual activities to even notice I had returned home.

Without a word I headed to my bedroom and got ready for sleep. My mind was still in a fog, lost somewhere between the definiteness of then and the uncertainty of now. Thoughts of the hospital and Jungkook intermingled in my mind as I mechanically completed my nighttime routine. Why didn’t I just ask him? The thought repeated itself persistently as I lay in bed...why didn’t I ask him? Another thought appeared to me, a thought simultaneously identical but unlike the former — why did I allow myself to be saved? The thought wasn’t new by any means; I've often mulled over my decision to seek help from doctors and therapists. Granted it was somewhat involuntarily, but still I wondered what life would be like if I hadn’t made that decision, if there was even life at all.

Despite these existential thoughts, I managed to drift off to sleep, albeit a restless one. When light broke the next morning, the thoughts were still there and greeted me with a wretched smile. I groaned, knowing that my mind wouldn't let me rest until I finally asked Jungkook, as the answer to the question of why I had allowed myself to be saved was dependent upon the answer to why I couldn't just ask him the question in the first place.

I floated through the day’s events in a daze, each action and interaction feeling like an out-of-body experience. The only thing on my mind was my next opportunity to see Jungkook, which, if I played my cards right, would be the following week after our shared night class.

The rest of the week went by uneventfully, but with each passing day I could feel my anxiety grow as my next chance to see Jungkook inched nearer. Finally, the day came; a lazy spring Friday, one so idyllic I had difficulty quelling my small, quiet hope. We were to meet at a local coffee shop mid-morning in between the morning and lunch time rushes, allowing us the opportunity to hopefully get a table for our meet-up.

Once there I heaved the heavy glass door open, pausing with it open to allow a couple an easy exit. Once inside I nervously scanned the room, my eyes searching for Jungkook's comforting presence. I heard my name being called from the far corner of the cafe and instantly registered the voice as his. The sound of my name in his voice sent anxious chills down my spine, paradoxically easing my nerves and heightening my apprehension at the same time. I turned and smiled weakly, making my way to the corner table where Jungkook was sipping what looked like a mocha with way too much whipped cream. I slung my backpack over the back of the chair and sat down apprehensively, rehearsing the words I hoped to say in my head while still offering standard pleasantries.

“So, Jungkook, how have you been?”

I sat in patient yet pained silence awaiting Jungkook's answer. I wanted him say, ‘Not well, this past week has been like hell,’ that maybe his week was rough because he missed me, but his reply was nothing of the sort.

“I’ve actually been really well! My buddies Jimin and Taehyung are back in town, and this time brought their girlfriends and a few others. It's been ing awesome to hang out with them again and just around and create a little chaos, if you know what I mean."

The corner of his lips turned up in a small smirk while his eyes appeared to glass over as he got lost in some memory from this past week. I awkwardly cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably in my seat, hoping to snap him out of his trance so I could get this conversation over with. He jumped ever-so-slightly in his seat, the sly smile disappearing as he shook his head as if he was waking up from a nap.

"Oh god, I'm sorry about that Y/N. Guess I kinda spaced out there. I know you wanted to meet to ask me som—oh wait did you wanna get any coffee first?”

I forced a smile and shook my head. I desperately wished that I was more like my normal self and could offer a witty comeback, but the twinge of pain from his honest response rendered me momentarily speechless. I fiddled with my shirt sleeve, picking at the loose red thread on my right wrist's hem. Without looking up, I opened my mouth to speak. Out came an anxiety-ridden voice, just barely above a whisper, the shy and submissive tone something I had unfortunately become accustomed to.

“Look, Jungkook, as you know, I...I have something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

Like a curious puppy, Jungkook cocked his head, his eyes begging to finally hear the question. I briefly met his attentive gaze then quickly looked away. I figited restlessly in my chair, still fussing with the thread as I averted my eyes while Jungkook's gaze remained locked on mine, trying to coax the question out of me. Still picking at the thread, I accidentally pulled the loose thread out entirely, the hem now completely undone. I scoffed in frustration at the bitter irony of the now unraveled thread. Funny, I thought. Just like how my life feels right now. With my hands now (unfortunately) free of distractions, I shut my eyes and took a slow, shaky breath. Here goes nothing...

“Jungkook, am I...I mean, are we...do...do you have any feelings for me?”

An uneasy silence overcame the two of us, and I waited anxiously in anticipation of his response. I searched his face for a clue, any clue, to his hidden feelings, but he kept his gaze averted. Seconds turned to minutes and he still had yet to answer. The reality of the matter finally hit me, the very reality I had been denying for so long. My chest tightened and all of the air left my lungs as the truth became more real. Mustering whatever remaining dignity I had, I backed my chair from the table and stood to leave. With a stiff nod and an oh-so-obviously forced smile, I grabbed my backpack and turned to make a hasty exit. A hand suddenly grabbed mine, stopping me in my tracks, while a flat voice tried to offer an explanation.

“Y/N...please...don’t go. It’s not like that, I swear. It’s just...I mean...”

Wrestling my arm from Jungkook's grasp, I kept walking. Without turning around I cooly responded, the words I thought I had lost now leaving my mouth in a voice so icy yet so self-assured I could barely recognize it as my own.

“No Jungkook, it’s fine. Really. I get it. I really do.” I swallowed hard, trying to suppress my overwhelming heartbreak and threatening tears to save face. “I don’t love me, and that’s how I understand why you don’t either.”