1st Half: Jungkook's Point of View

I felt very heavy when I entered my house that night.

My throat burned and squeezed closed in its attempt to swallow back my tears. All I could feel was the ghost of his lips against mine; all I could smell was his boyish, youthful scent; all I could think about it was the black hatred that blazed in his eyes.

But oh my god, it all hurt so ing much.

I wanted to ignore my umma when she came rushing to me. I hid my streaming eyes and swollen red skin behind a hand, but she didn't miss a thing. She gripped me by my sleeves and pulled my body into an embrace, allowing me to convulse with sobs and screams of frustration.

I didn't know how long we stood there at the bottom of the stairwell. She didn't say or ask anything; all she did was run her fingernails through my hair and rub gentle circles into my upper back, just like when I was an infant.

At that point, I wasn't even thinking about anything. My mind was an empty bowl, drunken from so many times it eventually fell to the floor and smashed.

When I finally calmed down, Umma guided me over to the couch so we could sit facing each other. I had resorted to assuming a state of tense denial, and I wasn't particularly sure I would be able to open my mouth to explain without crying.

Thinking about answering questions caused me to...think. About Jimin.

I've been dating a girl for the past couple of weeks. And I don't like gay people.

A fresh hot stabbing pain electrified my heart, causing me to double over and start yet another round of tears. Pictures of his solemn, dark, and defensive face flashed through my mind. The sound of his voice, so uncharacteristcally snappy and uninterested, filled my ears until I heard nothing but him, his hatred, his dislike, his abandonment...

Sobbing. I only heard sobbing.

"Kookie," Umma said gently, placing her hands on my back as I curled up into a defensive fetal position on the couch. "Baby, tell me what happened."

I struggled to contain my sobs with a deep breath but only burst into another hiccuping fit of wild cries.

"Is it Jimin?"

I nodded against her thigh, burying my tear-soaked face in my elbow.

"Does he have a girlfriend?"

I nodded again.

"Oh, Kookie."

I finally managed to relax my sobs into just a miserable pout, so I lifted myself into a sitting position and turned to face her. "He told me he doesn't like gay people."

Her eyes shone with sympathy as she reached out to massage my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, my angel. What a jerk he is."

"No," I protested weakly, forcing down a swallow despite the way it burned my throat and turned to glare at the carpet. "I can't...if Jimin doesn't want to talk to me, as bad enough as it is to lose him...I'll lose everyone else too...they're all my best friends."

I couldn't control my tears as I leaned forward buried my face into the couch cushions.

If only I hadn't gotten my eyes back. Who knew the real world could hurt so damn much?

...

My life became very messy and unscheduled after that day.

I quit my job at Jimin's Market - or rather, I texted Seokjin and told him to tell Jimin I quit. I didn't respond when he asked if I was okay.

Winter break started the day after...the stuff that happened. For the first two days of break I didn't leave my room. It was forty eight hours until Christmas and I was already predicting it would be a dark, cold, lonely, and miserable Christmas.

Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Taehyung each called me at least once. I wasn't expecting anything from Jimin, but that didn't mean I didn't want anything.

No matter how miserable I felt and how badly I wanted to go back in time to do things over, I couldn't make myself angry with Jimin. I tried, physically tried, to hate him. It would have been so much easier and dismissive to do so. The only progress I made was hating myself even more, hating myself for not being good enough for Jimin, hating myself for loving Jimin...

I felt disgusting. Jimin, my sweet, loving, fun, carefree, happy, and gorgeous crush, was nothing but good and right to me for the two months that I knew him.

Being gay must have been something really awful if it could turn such a wonderful person so dark.

Christmas passed uneventfully. I hadn't cried since two days prior, but I hadn't smiled since the...day the stuff happened.

I couldn't even look at the color red anymore. Everything red caused a surplus of painful memories to come flooding back. Clear was a lot safer. Tears were all I looked forward to anymore. Tears relieved stress, and tears had no color.

Umma and Appa got me plenty of good presents on Christmas. Appa was grinning and he and Umma looked so in love, holding hands and watching as I unwrapped my new books and clothes and camera, but their happiness only made me jealous when I should have been happier.

My parents were so happy. Why couldn't I be happy? I missed it, a lot...I really did...but the only thing that could make me smile right then would never want to see my joy.

Taehyung's birthday passed. Everyone invited me to hang out, other than Jimin of course. I didn't reply.

On New Year's Day, Umma and Appa took me to the doctor. They checked out my eyes and said I was perfectly healthy physically, but after my umma talked to the doctor and I was asked a bunch of very difficult psychological questions, they told me I wasn't very healthy mentally. They diagnosed me with depression and told my umma the name of the drug I should probably be put on as soon as possible.

During the car ride home, I didn't stop begging my parents to not spend more money on me. I was going to get through my heartbreak as quickly as I could if it meant less stress for my family...my parents weren't allowed to risk any more for me, especially now that I had stopped working at Jimin's Market.

A day later, I was on my back on the living room floor benching some weights until my sweat poured and distracted me, when an impatient knock sounded at the door.

"I'll get it," Umma called, trotting downstairs and pulling open the door, crouching away from the gust of cold wind that blew in. "Oh, Seokjin..."

I tossed my weights aside and divebombed onto the couch, praying I would blend in (somehow) with the couch cushions, when I felt a gentle poke on my shoulder.

Scared, nervous, and uncertain, I lifted my gaze to meet Seokjin's. His eyes were wild with concern, fear, anger, and relief, and I was surprised how much my contracted chest relaxed at the sight of him. "Jeon Jungkook."

"Hey, Seokjin," I croaked, sitting on my knees.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, walking around so that he stood in front of me with his hands on his hips. "What the hell happened to you? We've all been worrying our asses off, and Jimin just kept telling us you were sick, but it's been almost a month..."

I felt my lip curl at the words he spoke of Jimin's lie. "I'm not sick."

Seokjin held his arms out and cocked his head impatiently, like he was ready to squeeze the answers out of me. "Are you going to explain yourself?"

I heaved a sigh and glanced over my shoulder to check if my umma was gone. After observing she was, I turned back to Seokjin. "How is everyone?"

He held my eyes evenly, trying to read words there that didn't exist, and spoke gentler than he had been. "Everyone is worried but fine. Jimin has been crying a lot lately, and I'm not sure why, but I'm assuming he's worried about you..."

My