Request by: crookedtime

((A/N: This is a no- re-write of your request a while back, just because I can. I changed the plot a bit, aka messed everything up, but I hope you’ll still like it?))

((Also, I can’t seem to write fluff today so this thing turned out angstier than expected…))

((And for the sake of this fic pretend Jungkook and Jimin are the same age lol))

            I wasn’t sure why the hell I was here when I should be studying for exams, but the lights were too blinding and the alcohol I’d just downed was too strong for me to linger on it for long.

I wasn’t drunk, of course. Unlike others, I knew my limit, and usually drank within it. Because of this apparently uncommon trait, I often spent time at a club just watching kids from my school with a seemingly unshakeable reputation get flat-out wasted and lose it. It was as disturbing as it was entertaining, but it was better than sitting holed up in my room with a sore and tired eyes, re-reading a paragraph of my history textbook that my brain was too exhausted to process and rapidly developing a headache from my brother’s incoherent ty rap music blasting in the room next door.

            All of a sudden, microphone feedback screeched through the club, making the sober people clap their hands over their ears and the drunk people do – well – obscene things that drunk people do.

            “Sober people, raise your hands,” a voice crackled over the sound system. It sounded oddly familiar, like a song you can sing along to but don’t know the name of, but my brain wasn’t exactly the clearest at the moment. Concluding that I was at least somewhat sober, I raised my hand shakily, looking around the club to find that most other people who had their hand up were bartenders.

            “That’s reassuring,” the voice – definitely male – said sarcastically.

            “Just hurry up and sing already,” a bartender yelled, wiping a bottle of alcohol with a cloth.

            “Alright, alright. This song isn’t exactly suited for a club, but at least it’ll put some of these drunk bastards to sleep.”

            “Thank God,” another bartender yelled, and the few sober people in the room – including me – laughed.

            A faint chuckle emitted from whoever was standing on stage, laced with faint crackles and pops from the still-adjusting low-quality mic. “Hit it.”

            A slow piano melody drifted through the air, and almost immediately, people started dropping. By the time the guy took a breath to begin his first verse, about three quarters of the intoxicated people in the club were fast asleep, some people snoring and others mumbling random things. Grinning as the bartenders cheered amongst themselves, I got up from my place at the counter and made my way towards the stage, where a guy was standing in front of a piano.

            Now I knew why I’d found the voice so familiar.

            Jeon Jungkook.

            He had a reputation at my school for being the guy who rarely spoke and almost never smiled, who had the ability to silence the most annoying and talkative people with a single glare. He was in a lot of my classes, and I often found myself sitting through a particularly boring lecture thinking of ways to get him to open up to me. No one acted like that without having an incredible backstory.

            I stood about a foot away from the edge of the stage, arms crossed over my chest and leaning back slightly. With the bright lights flashing right behind him, he probably couldn’t see anything beyond the stage, which gave me the perfect chance to observe the way this guy worked.

            Call me weird, call me a stalker, I didn’t care. Jeon Jungkook awakened my curiosity, and I was eager to find out more about him.

            I stared up at him, and suddenly noticed how good of a singer he was. His vocals were strong, had a distinct sound, and his vocal range was incredibly wide. No wonder he was the star of the school choir.

            What must’ve been around halfway into the song, he opened his previously closed eyes, searching the crowd of passed-out drunk people and grinning bartenders until his eyes landed on me. A flicker of recognition passed briefly through his eyes.

            How does he see me with these lights? I wondered, slightly taken aback (and, well, worried that he was going to think I was stalker or something). Thankfully, he didn’t look at me for long, as about a second after he looked away, he hit the highest note I’d ever heard another guy reach. The people who were still awake erupted into applause, some whistling and cheering.

            What remained of the song was overshadowed by that epic note, and before I knew it, Jungkook had said a few sarcastic, bored ‘thank you’s and was making his way off the stage. I almost got up and rushed over towards him, but decided safely against it, as that would make me seem desperate. Instead, I observed from a safe distance as a few people clapped him on the shoulder, and a guy went up to hand him a check. Eventually, the excitement of the performance dispersed, and everyone went back to whatever they were doing before.

            Except for me.

            Because, just as I was about to divert my attention to the counter and the half-empty shot cup still waiting for me there, I caught out of the corner of my eye a significantly larger, significantly drunk guy stumble up to Jungkook. In an instant – seriously, it was amazing – his protective defense came back on, the dark ‘don’t touch me’ glare that girls fawned over and I spent so much time contemplating how to break. As I watched, growing more and more alarmed by the second, the stranger put his hand on Jungkook’s arm, and when the smaller jerked away, he tried again. It was obvious who the stronger one was, despite the stark contrast in levels of intoxication. After a few moments of struggle, the stranger had forced Jungkook out the door and into the frigid night. He looked around desperately for any help, but unfortunately, the bartenders were too preoccupied to pay much attention to him.

            It wasn’t when he had disappeared out the door, his eyes screaming ‘help me’, that I realized how stupid I was. You idiot, Park Jimin. If you’re not going to go help him, who will?

            Taking a deep breath, I ran over to the door and swung it open, stepping out into the cold night.

            I could hear the confrontation even though I couldn’t see it. An indignant, trying-not-to-reveal-any-sign-of-weakness voice, juxtaposed with the stumbling slur of an older male who clearly meant no good. Following the sound of their voices, I jogged around the corner into a dimly lit alleyway (of course), where, at the very end, pushed up against the wall, Jungkook was barely fending off the drunk stranger’s advances.

            I didn’t hesitate to run over, grab the collar of the offender’s shirt and yank him back with as much force as I could muster. Before he could so much as raise a fist, I had him slammed against the wall, my forearm against his neck and keeping him in place. Now that I had a full view of his red, unshaven face, he looked around his mid twenties, and from the state of his hair and his stained, casual clothing, his financial status wasn’t exactly to die for. He struggled a bit, grabbing at my arm, but eventually the lack of air got to him, and he slackened considerably.

            “I’m only going to tell you this once, so listen carefully,” I said under my breath, making my voice sound as low and threatening as possible. “I can kill you if I want to. I can keep my arm locked here until you run out of air and die. Do you want that?”

            He gave a miniscule shake of his head. He looked like he was about to cry. I realized I was hurting him a lot more than I’d intended to and decided to give him some slack.

            “I thought so,” I said, withdrawing a bit. He in mouthful after mouthful of air, his entire body deflating with relief. I waited until he was done catching his breath to continue. “Now get your drunk out of here. And hurry.” Stepping away from him, I watched as he scampered around the corner. The sound of a door closing suggested he’d returned to the club.

            “You shouldn’t have done that,” Jungkook said from behind before I could turn around. “I had the situation under control.”

            Damn. That was the most he’d ever spoken to me since we’d first met, on freshman orientation day four years ago.

            I turned around to find a dark-eyed, glowering Jungkook standing mere inches away from me, his intimidating stare making it hard for me to not look away. “You were obviously overpowered,” I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest to protect myself. He looked like he was going to snap at any moment. “And I had the benefit of the unexpected.”

            He took one step closer, and I had to ground myself so I wouldn’t step back. “Why do you always follow me around everywhere?” he demanded, his eyes boring into my soul. “Why do you get involved in things that aren’t your business?” Without waiting for my answer, he shouldered past me, walking briskly out of the alleyway with a posture that was both broken and strangely regal.

            “Why don’t you ever let anyone in?” I countered, calling after him just as he was about to turn the corner and disappear from my sight. “Why do you make yourself live like this?”

            He stopped abruptly, spinning around so fast I would have missed it if I’d blinked, and fixed me with a glare swirling with negative emotions. “You think I haven’t ever let anyone in?” he demanded, his voice matching his posture with a mix of hurt and invincibility. “People… they pretend to care, they promise they’ll stay, that they won’t judge me. And I believe them, I trust them, I let them in… and then they leave. They always leave, Park Jimin. Why should I think that you won’t do the same?”

            And with that, he walked around the corner and left me standing there, in the flickering darkness of the alleyway, a thousand questions screaming in my head.

~

            Later that night, as I lay in bed with another bout of insomnia, I cursed myself for being so weak.

            I’d spent the greater part of my life putting up my defenses, pushing people away, becoming basically invincible. I’d established since the first week of high school that I wasn’t someone you could talk to freely, that you could get close to. Because of my reputation, nobody approached me beyond asking for an interview for the student newspaper or the circumstance that we’d been assigned project partners. More than a decade had passed since I’d last shed a tear, and only a little less since I gave anyone any information about myself that they could use as leverage against me.

            And Park Jimin of all people had breached my walls in mere moments.

            I slammed my head into my pillow for what must have been the twentieth time tonight, muttering insults at myself for being so foolish, for wanting to make a point like the attention-craving little boy I still was inside, for giving away one of my deepest, darkest secrets to a clingy, irritating acquaintance.

            I rolled over onto my back, staring at my ceiling plastered with glow-in-the-dark stars. There was only one solution for making that big of a mistake. It was shaky, and would take some time, but there was nothing else to do.

            I would have to push Park Jimin far, far away, until he was deterred from even looking at me.

~

            I made a decision while lying in bed later that night. I was going to breach Jungkook’s walls. I was going to make him let me in. And I was going to prove to him that not everybody leaves.

It wasn’t quite about curiosity anymore.

            For some reason, I knew where Jungkook’s locker was, so at school the next day, I found him pretty quickly. As the person who owned the locker next to his was either late or already in class, I was able to lean against it as I waited for him to finish getting his books and notice my presence.

            He noticed me sooner than expected, slamming the locker door shut and tossing a cold glance my way without saying a single word.

            “Jungkook,” I said, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder before he could walk away. He flinched so severely that I jerked away, taken aback.

            “Do-don’t touch me.” His voice was shaky. This, after three years, was the only thing that broke his cold demeanour – touch.

            “Jungkook,” I repeated. “I’m not going to ask you about what happened yesterday-”

            “Are you stupid?” he demanded, walking away. I ran to catch up to him, and in response, he simply walked faster. Being the shorter of the two, I had to half-jog in order to keep up. “Did my message not come across clear enough? I don’t trust you, and I don’t like you. I never have, and I never will. Nothing you do, nothing you say, will ever change that. So back off.”

            Forcing a burst of speed into my short legs, I ran in front of him, turned, and planted my feet on the ground facing him. Taken by surprise, he skidded to a sudden stop in front of me and did this awkward pinwheel-thing with his arm to regain balance. As he regained his composure, I couldn’t help but notice that he looked exhausted. There were bags shadowing his eyes, his hair was messed up, and his skin tone was sickly.

Worry stabbed through me, but I ignored it. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared right back at him. “No,” I said firmly.

            Something in his eyes changed, shifted, and he looked away, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” he muttered under his breath, shouldering past me and quickly disappearing into the crowd of students making their way to their classroom before the bell rang.

            I stared at the spot I’d seen him last. Just like last night, he’d left me dizzy with unanswered questions.

~

            Park Jimin was ruining my life, I concluded as I sat through a lecture only two or three people were actually paying attention to. Gazing out the window, I latched my focus onto a lone seagull spiraling through the white sky, wings spread, flying in lazy circles. It brought back sudden memories, of dirt-stained little-girl hands pointing up in awe at the birds soaring above our heads. Of lying on grassy hills on warm Sunday mornings, the same dirt-stained hands trying to teach me how to weave flower crowns.

            “You’re a monster.”

            My head snapped up; the voice had sounded so close and so real, as if time hadn’t passed at all and I was still standing underneath the glaring winter sky, my short heavy breaths condensing before me, pleading for the only person who mattered to me to please don’t leave.

            But it was for you, I wanted to say, the words echoing in my head. It was all for you.

            Finally, the bell rang, and at least ten different heads perked up from their position on top of folded arms. I marvelled at how easily they could fall asleep for a brief second before picking up my books, giving the teacher a quick bow before exiting the classroom.

            “Jungkook.”

            My head snapped over to the source of the voice, and Park ing Jimin was standing there, leaning against the wall as if he’d been waiting for me.

            That was it. Nothing I could say would make him stop following me around like a lost puppy. I decided to just ignore him, and made my way down the familiar route towards my locker to drop off a few books to lighten my load.

            “It’s fine if you don’t talk to me. Actually, since you aren’t, I want to talk to you.”

            Words that were all too familiar. Back when school had first started, shallow girls had labelled me as the ‘must-have, dark and mysterious’ type. Which I didn’t care much for, except for the fact that it caused me to have to put up with insincere comments like those a lot.

            Spinning the combination almost superhumanly fast out of constant unending repetition, I slammed my locker door open, not caring whether I’d accidentally hit Jimin in the face. I crammed my literature books inside and grabbed a fresh pencil, disposing my worn-down one inside to sharpen later. It had all become routine to me – just another part of the day, another system automatically programmed into my mind. Closing the door, I turned in the direction of my next class, finding Jimin suddenly standing right in front of me.

            Before I could side-step him, he put a hand on my shoulder – and there it was again.

            Sharp, nostalgic pain flooded my senses. Only she touched me like that. The memories I’d spent years trying to push down, to lock behind a dam, came pouring out, drowning me in fresh pain.

            Why are you doing this to me? I wanted to scream at him. You say you want to help me, but all you’ve done so far is hurt me. And it hurts, oh my god it hurts.

            You’re a monster, her voice echoed in my mind as my vision turned red, and it seemed as if my heart was controlling everything rather than my brain. I clutched my head – or so I thought, I couldn’t tell anymore – and desperately wished for all of it to disappear.

            You’re a monster, you’re a monster, you’re a monster…

            But I love you.

            All of a sudden, there are ropes around my elbows, binding me, pulling me back, and a blindfold over my eyes, and a thousand hands restraining me, and I thrashed and thrashed and thrashed but nothing worked, my head throbbed with pain, I was immobile-

            A voice, laced with panic and fear, cut through my haze, and slowly but surely, my vision cleared. There are hands clutching at my arms, pulling me back, and a crowd around me, eyes wide, mouths agape in fear. The scene was so familiar that it brought tears surging, and I dropped to my knees, a headache piercing through my scrambled thoughts. I stared at my blood-stained hands, curling and uncurling my fingers, then looked up at the blinding lights above me, staring for so long that when I finally looked away, black spots clouded my vision.

            I blinked, waiting for them to go away, and the situation finally made itself clear.

            There’s a familiar form on the ground, body twisted into a crooked, in-pain version of the fetal position. A wet cough shook his entire frame, and I knew without doubt that he was coughing out blood. I looked down at my hands, then back at the figure before me.

            Jimin…? The name arose in my throat like bile.

            And then everything was undeniable.

            No. I shook my head, completely ignoring the intimidating man kneeling beside me and trying to ask me questions. “No, no, no,” I said, dropping my head into my bloody hands.

            Jimin’s blood…

            I never meant to hurt him. I just wanted him to back off, to eliminate the one threat to the walls around my dark heart.

            I never meant to hurt him.

            But I did…

            Those words, also painfully familiar, swirld around my head as the crowd around me shifted like waves, and the damaged boy before me finally became completely and utterly afraid of me.

((A/N: Let me know what you thought (GIRL LET ME KNOW)… Seriously, I’d love to know what you guys thought about this chapter. I NEED COMMENTS. I FEEL SO LONELY. I NEED U GIRL. WAE.))

((Just realized how messed up Jungkook is here… omfg what have I done))