STORMS

onze

011 —
SELFISH.

midnight approaches a shivering girl, goosebumps tiptoeing along the scars on her arms dancing toward the bruises on her thighs. she hides herself underneath thin white sheets and a thick magenta blanket that throws off the light theme of the room. she inhales softly while stretching out her limbs when an accustomed pungent smell of masculinity and nicotine reminds her of the bomber jacket wrapped around her body, the item of clothing given to her in the first place to cover up mistakes and insecurities. the aromatics awaken her senses which slowly awaken from a deep slumber, hearing coming next when the rain makes a dramatic appearance. it sounds of pebbles being thrown against her window which was open just a crack, enough to welcome a chilling breeze. beyond the glass is a blue night which made jiho miss her nicotine boy, a blue night which also made her vision hazy.

jiho slowly loses control of one of her senses, vision, while her mind takes the lead dragging her into a catastrophe of a dream.

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the trees rustle and wind cries, crickets cricket and the air is no longer stinging with heat— it's a blessing when nighttime approaches. it's summer. ice cream melts on side walks and sweat forms on the temples of laughing persons on rollerblades. water splashes and sun buries into melanin and rosy cheeks. the grass fields lasso the sun closer to the ground with each passing second that the sky took to transform from blue cotton candy to blood orange. the sky was clear minus the few lines indicating an airplane had flown passed, the only thing unclear was why she was here, in the very beach home of kim taehyung, resting her head in his lap as he sips gracefully from a glass of red wine.

her fingers subconsciously grip along the hem of his slacks, a constant fear of unknowing when he'll unleash the menacing beast. a constant anxiety of wondering when iseul would show up. a constant feeling of wanting to throw up because how could she allow herself to stab iseul in the back? it's the perfect example of why you don't mix lonely with lonely, as selfishness will get the best of ones mind and place oneself in a pool of regret. that poor, beautiful soul was just too much of an oblivious summer-loving girl to ever realize. it's a blessing and a curse. jiho simultaneously thanks iseul for volunteering to go buy that pack of beer for the night ahead of them and curses her for leaving.

jiho can't pinpoint why she allows taehyung to still twirl his dirty fingers around her hair, or why she wasn't able to ignore the pounding in her chest. it's sickening the way she is uncontrollably attracted to things she knows don't stick around.

she feels the strands of her hair hit her back meaning he had lifted his arm to take another sip from his beverage, confused whether she should still want his touch or reject it. a deep chuckle vibrates against her skin moist from humidity and he reattaches his fingers to her raven hair, this time no gentle stroke. a grip. her monsters whisper in her ear and angels pull her away, but taehyung was super glue. jiho hisses in pain and shakes in fear with anxiety swimming through her veins. and it hits her. she understands the answer to her aforementioned questions. jiho couldn't ignore the thumps in her chest because fear cannot be concealed when the way out has been thrown away. a bird in a bird cage won't cry but will try to make it home.

in an instant she sits up from his lap and is forced to face him, his hands still in her hair. "wine, ji?" he places the fine glass against her trembling lips and smiles as she gulps carefully. "ease down, i don't like it when you're afraid." taehyung pouts while tracing his fingers along her jawline.