♠︎ forty seven

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

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♠︎ YOU

You'd decided on a new tactic: avoidance.

After your heartbreaking conversation with Jungkook, you'd fled back to your bedroom from his - albeit not quickly, due to the stiffness in your limbs - and since then, you'd cried, watched Princess and the Frog, and then cried some more, mainly at the memory of having watched it in Jungkook's arms in this very bed. Eventually, you cried yourself back to sleep.

When you woke up again at noon, it was to your phone pinging.

It was a message from Kami - your editor.

Kami: how's the article coming along, doll? haven't heard from you in a while! 😘

You sighed, locking your phone again without responding and tossing it back into the sheets. 

Maybe if you'd given me longer than two weeks to turn the article around, Kami, I'd have taken the time to text you, you grumbled internally, realising you only had a few days left to finish the article, and you still had yet to even interview Jungkook for it. A pang rang through you at the thought of having to conduct that interview now, in light of what had happened between you this morning. You shoved it down, anxious at the thought of how much work you still had to do to get the piece written.

But this, you realised, might actually be exactly what you needed today. You didn't want to face Jungkook. Or Taehyung. And you especially did not want to have to meet Yooba in this state. All of the new guests and the boys would be gathered downstairs, and it would be painful to have to put on a facade all day when your eyes were already swollen from crying.

So instead, you clambered out of the sheets, still wincing a little, and got to work.

You worked for hours on end. You had yet to transcribe your notes from interviewing Jimin, plus you'd recently added more notes from talking to Jin and Hobi, and on top of that, you needed to decide on how you were going to link them all into one cohesive editorial piece. In the end, you decided to grant each member their own section; a little basic, admittedly, but you weren't feeling at the top of your writing form right now.

You wrote and wrote and wrote, only breaking to use the bathroom, losing yourself in the pages until you could almost, for a few minutes at a time, forget what had happened this morning. It threatened to come crashing back at times, tears pricking in your eyes, but you pushed on, pushed it down, pushed it away, and wrote.

By the time Namjoon knocked on your door and calling that dinner was ready, you had most of the article finished besides Jungkook's section. Truthfully, you were hungry, but your anxiety at facing your problems triumphed over your need for food. You turned him down, hearing him linger at the door for a moment, before he padded away. 

Straining your ears, you could hear the voices of people gathered in the kitchen downstairs for dinner. It made your heart ache, to think you'd gone all day without seeing Jungkook. You were so used to being joined at the hip over the last week or so, that even a few hours apart was strange. But the thought of seeing him now just filled you with shame and regret. 

Jungkook had been right, you knew that. This was all on you, and your inability to hand yourself over entirely to someone, knowing that there was a very real risk he would break your heart. Jungkook had given you absolutely no reason to think he would hurt you - and yet, you had still hesitated.

And in that one moment of hesitation, there was a chance you'd let him slip for good. 

It made you furious with yourself for how you'd handled it. Why had you insisted on being honest with him? Couldn't you have just kept your doubts to yourself? 

Deep down, a kinder voice reminded you that this was all because of how you'd been treated by Taehyung. But it was drowned out instantly by a storm of hateful voices, determined to blame you.

Maybe it was time to revert to your usual tactics in these situations, when you had begun to caught feelings. Detach yourself, wait for him to realise you weren't what he wanted anyway, and then you could deal with the inevitable heartbreak of it all behind closed doors. Emerge in a few weeks, even more closed off than before - but still alive. 

It sounded awful, after all your progress in being honest and vulnerable this morning. But right now, it felt like the only option. 

You should have known, though, that there was one grumpy fucker on this island who wouldn't let you get away with this plan easily.

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The knocks that came this time were more insistent than Namjoon's, and you dimissed them once more.

"I'm not decent!" you lied, typing furiously.

"Put some clothes on, then, sweetheart," came Yoongi's sardonic voice from the other side of the door. "I'm coming in, tits out or not."

"Yoongi-" you began to protest, but it was too late. He had already pushed the door and stepped into the room, closing it behind him.

You paused your typing for a moment, gazing at him from where you sat on the edge of the bed.

"What's up?" you tried casually. 

Yoongi didn't offer a response. He gestured to the bed, which was now covered in papers of your notes and interviews with the boys.

"What is all this?" he asked. "You should be at dinner. You haven't eaten today."

You worried your lip between your teeth, trying to explain this in a way that would make sense to both Yoongi and yourself.

"There's this one species of frog-" you began, making Yoongi groan and drop his head into his hands. 

"Frogs, again," he complained in muffled tones. "Why is it always fucking frogs with you."

You rolled your eyes, continuing. "Anyway, they have these little claws hidden under their skin, and whenever they're feeling attacked or overwhelmed their skin just retracts so their claws can protect them from facing their problems."

Yoongi let go of his face and just blinked at you in disbelief, not responding.

"Anyway, that's... sort of what I'm going for, here," you indicated at the sheafs of paper and your laptop displayed messily across your bed. "Avoidance."

"Right," Yoongi said dubiously. "You're feeling... overwhelmed?"

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat, but you willed yourself not to cry. "Yep."

"So you've decided to follow the example of an amphibian with a brain the size of a pea," he continued. "Is that the wisest move, do we think?"

You shrugged. "Article has to get done some time, I guess."

You tried to say this casually, but the emotional dam in your throat had broken, and it came out thick and stuttering. 

Yoongi's sarcastic expression softened instantly, coming to sit opposite you on the bed, after he'd shifted some papers to the side. Tears had already gathered in your eyes.

"I've..." you began, trying to catch your breath and tell Yoongi the truth. "I've fucked it up, Yoongi."

"No you haven't," he said honestly, picking at a thread on your sheets.

You tutted. "You don't even know what h-happened," you hiccuped a little.

"Let me guess," he drawled, as if he were bored. "Taehyung invited Yoora here, that much is obvious. And now you and Jungkookie have fallen out because you're afraid that he'll go running back to her."

You blinked in surprise. "Well - um, yeah, pretty much."

Yoongi sighed. "I should write k-dramas. My talents are wasted in music."

"Yoongi," you ignored his teasing, wringing your hands together. "I think maybe I really screwed this up this time. I made Jungkook think that I don't trust him. I really hurt him."

Yoongi gave you a small, appraising look.

"Tell me this," he said, feline eyes trained on yours. "Do you really, from the bottom of your heart, think that there is a chance Jungkook will change his mind and go back to Yoora?" 

You frowned. "There's always going to be a possibility-"

"Of course there is," he admitted, cutting you off. "I don't mean that. But do you really think he would actually do it? Hurt you like that?"

You thought about this for a long moment. 

Would Jungkook do it? A huge part of you said no, absolutely not. He had proved himself over the past six weeks to be someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, who hated deception and change. You knew he was so hurt this morning because you'd underestimated him; you'd made him feel like less than the grown, emotionally mature man he had become. You should have trusted him.

And yet, the tiny, insecure part of yourself was still needling at you to look over your shoulder. That you didn't really know him, after five weeks. That Yooba was a model and therefore must be beautiful, insanely beautiful, much more beautiful than you. That another man had seen fit to change his mind about you, so what was stopping another from doing the same?

Yoongi didn't need you to answer to know exactly what you were thinking, from the way the tears continued to roll down your cheeks.

"See," he said softly, reaching for your hand as you wiped the tears away. "That's what you need to work on, sweetheart. There is always going to be a chance that he hurts you. The people we love are the ones who hurt us the most, right? But we trust, most of the time, that they won't. We trust them enough that we love them anyway."

The words sent pangs of guilt rolling through you, and the tears fell steadily, at the realisation that Yoongi knew the secret you'd held so close, until this morning. 

"How did you know," you asked, wiping the tears again. "That I love him?"

Yoongi smiled. "I know you," he said, as if it were obvious.

You had never been more appreciative for Yoongi's friendship in your life, than you were right this instant.

"You're right" you sniffed. "I know you're right. But maybe you should write your own advice down for safekeeping."

Yoongi's brow furrowed. "Huh? Why would I do that?"

"For the person you've been too scared to trust, too," you squeezed his hand in yours. "Maybe you should accept that Jimin is telling you the truth."

Yoongi's expression steeled. "That's different. It's complicated."

"Maybe," you shrugged. "Or maybe it's very simple. If you let him speak to you, you might find out."

Yoongi glared at you, but you could see the cogs turning in his brain. He knew you were right, the same way you knew his advice about Jungkook was sound.

"Okay, fine, I'll talk to him," he conceded. "But you have to promise to stop buring yourself in work."

He looked around at the papers again, and you grinned sheepishly. You felt a little foolish now, for locking yourself away all day. What must the new guests think of you?

"And also," Yoongi said, sterner this time. "You need to eat. No excuses."

Your stomach twisted in panic. "But-"

"C'mon," he said resolutely, standing and pulling you with him. "I told Jin to wait til you came down before serving food, so you really wouldn't have a choice."

You grinned a little at this. It was admittedly a genius move on Yoongi's part in getting you out of the room. You might be heartbroken, but even you weren't one to keep Jin waiting at the dinner table.

So you clambered out of bed, asking Yoongi to wait outside while you dressed. After pulling on a simple pair of jeans and a cropped shirt, running your hand through your hair to make yourself look semi-presentable, you followed him out of the door, stomach tying itself in anxious knots. 

You put on a brave smile as you entered the kitchen. Immediately, you could sense something was off; Jungkook and Taehyung both looked murderous, though they snapped their gazes in your direction as you came in. You wondered if they'd fought, and instantly felt terrible for pitting the two friends against each other.

Ignoring the jolt down your spine at Jungkook's doe-eyed gaze on you, you didn't even look his way, instead letting Yoongi lead you around to the newer guests at the other end of the table.

"Hi," you waved at them, putting on your friendliest expression. "Sorry to hold you guys up for dinner."

"Don't worry about it!" said a pretty girl with dyed blonde hair, who smiled cheerfully at you. But it was the girl next to her that you knew was Yooba, from Yoongi's descriptions. Her black tresses shone in the way that only salon-styled hair did, her face angular and beautiful.

You fought hard against the rising realisation of what an attractive couple she and Jungkook would be.

Yoongi introduced you to all six of the new guests and you smiled and waved at all of them in turn. The cheery blonde girl turned out to be called Tala, and as you'd expected, the dangerously gorgeous creature beside her was the one who had popped your dream-like bubble of paradise this morning.

Not that she knew this, of course. Or that any of this was her fault. It wasn't even Taehyung's fault, really.

It was yours. 

For not trusting in Jungkook - or for trusting him only half of the way, and being stupid enough to tell him that. At the end of the day, you had no one to blame but yourself.

Pushing this nasty thought away, you sat down, pouring yourself a generous glass of wine, and smiled at the people around you.

"Let's eat," you announced, taking a long drink of the red liquid, feeling it hit you instantly due to your empty stomach. Yoongi eyed you in concern as you sipped it again, picking at your food, but you ignored him, enjoying the way it settled your anxiety ever so slightly. Especially with the doe eyes still trained on you from the other end of the table. 

It had been a long day, after all. If you needed the wine to dull your senses a little this evening - so be it.

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