
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9459815.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Jeon_Jungkook/Reader
  Character:
      Jeon_Jungkook, Il_Lettore_|_The_Reader
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Angst
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-25 Words: 7474
****** Love is such a losing game ******
by justanemptydream
Summary
     You had loved a man with all your might and you had been burned,
     hard, mercilessly, until your very core was damaged beyond repair.
     When you feel like there’s nothing left of you, nothing to save
     anyway, when you let your self get drunk and high to dull the pain,
     there’s only one person that still remains by your side: Jeon
     Jeongguk.
Notes
     A/N: the title and the main plot of this story are an adaptation of
     an original one-shot I wrote some years ago that was, to a certain
     level, inspired by the British tv-show “Skins” and in particular by
     the character of Effy Stonem.
     Also, this is my first story in English and I’m well aware it is not
     the best - especially prose-wise - but since it’s the very first work
     I posted I can’t delete it because I’m too attached to it lol.
      
     ▽ ▽ WARNING: Contains alcohol and drug use references, cuss words,
     mild violence, mild depiction of sexual intercourse, under-aged OC ▽
     ▽
      
     ▽ ▽ WARNING: Contains alcohol and drug use references, cuss words,
     mild violence. ▽ ▽
The polished image you see in the reflection of your mirror is nothing like
you, it looks almost comical to your eyes: the way you look so innocent, pure
even when, in fact, you’re nothing of the sort.
If people didn’t know any better, you could actually fool the whole world with
your soft features, your hair pulled in a braid under your back, the school
uniform hugging your curves in a very chaste way, unlike your usual clothing.
You keep looking at yourself, trying to find the change that you clearly felt
happening inside your heart one year ago. Yet, you look absolutely the same
now, when the make-up doesn’t change your features, when the clothes don’t
reveal half of your body to whomever wants to see.
When your eyelids close you hear your mother screaming your name from
downstairs and you’re drawn back to reality, to the sickening routine of your
nonsensical life.
The ride to your school is silent, as it always is, your mother’s eyes not
landing on you even once. You prefer it this way: you hate the way she looks at
you, you hate the pity and the rage you see in her eyes, you hate the way she’s
always ready to bash at you, not even once trying to see through the layers of
your skin to reach what’s really inside. But then again, nobody ever bothered,
why would you still be surprised now?
The ride is not that long but it’s still long enough to make your mind wander
back to one year ago, to the normal teenager you used to be, to the way your
mouth would lift up in a sweet smile in the morning when your parents greeted
you as you entered the room to have breakfast with them.
You miss the feeling of normalcy, you miss what you used to be, you miss
feeling whole and untouched. Now all you feel is the pain, all the time, never
changing, never dulling until you make it shut up drowning your brain in
alcohol.
When silence envelops you like this, no way out of your thoughts, that’s when
it hurts the most, that’s when you can’t push him out, no matter how hard you
try. 
Suddenly you can feel again the way his hands roam up and down your body, his
voice raspy as he whispers fake “I love you’s” as he takes away your first
kiss, your virginity, all of your love, without asking for permission, without
worrying about the damage he’s inflicting. Without caring.
He’s a married man and you’re just a little girl, but he doesn’t stop, he takes
all of you, anything you have to offer, and then, when you’re in too deep, he
crushes your soul, stomping on the remains of what you used to be.
Your hands start to tremble as his name pops up in your mind. Eric.
In a heartbeat you’re thrown back to that night of one year ago when you called
him, panicked, telling him you were bearing the seed of his love inside of you.
You can still remember the bitter feeling in your mouth as he spat out those
foul words: it’s not mine.
But it was, and he knew it. You had never been with anyone else before nor
during the time you thought you were his. He was your first and, for a while,
he was also your last.
He used you, he never loved you, he had a family to look out for, he had a
reputation to maintain and you and your little child simply didn’t fit in the
pretty picture.
You had never loved someone with the great intensity you had loved him and it
seemed fitting that you never hated anybody as much as you hated him, now.
Everything crumbled down to the floor: all the lies, your relationship, all
your hopes, all your dreams. Your sanity.
Your mind had gone haywire, your thoughts so confusing and loud it made you
want to scream, to pull your hair until they’d fall off. The pain was so great
it made breathing hard, ripping you from the inside out as you cried all of
your tears in the loneliness of your bedroom. Who could you run to? Who could
possibly help you now? You were alone, lost, confused. As you had always been
next to him. Those times, you hadn’t cared, you thought it was going to
change. Now, you were done being naïve, you knew better and it hurt so fucking
much.
That night, your body drained, aching everywhere, you walked to his house and
without even registering your actions you set it on fire, not a single thought
spared to the fact that his whole family was with him at that time, not even
taking into account the little kids that lived inside the household. Nothing
mattered, nothing had any sense or worth anymore.
He had found you like that, looking dead and empty and he had shaken you so
hard, he had slapped you so many times screaming in your face that you
were fucked up, insane, a stupid bitch. His house burned to the ground and his
reputation along with it. He lost his family, he lost his friends, he lost
everything. As you did.
He had pulled at your hair, seeking a reaction into you and getting angrier as
you kept standing still, taking everything he wanted to do to you until he
slapped you with so much strength you fell to the ground, your head hitting the
sidewalk so hard it turned the world black for a whole minute. And then there
was the pain: everywhere. You were crying, screaming, hugging your belly to
keep the ache in but to no avail. There was no end, there was no escape. It
just hurt and when you felt the blood running down your thighs you knew: it was
never going to stop.
The voices, the doctors, your family, your friends, they were all just a blur
as you were lying on the hospital bed, the IV dripping slowly inside your arm
pumping tiny little drops of life inside a body that had no will to go on
anymore. You had lost the child and yourself along with it. That night, the
better part of you died too.
“We’re here.” Her voice is strained as she says that, still looking firmly
ahead, ashamed of having a lunatic as a child. A liar.
In silence, you step out of the car and look at its shining body as she takes
off, driving as far away from you as possible.
No one actually believed you, no one gave you the benefit of the doubt when he
swore he had nothing to do with you, no one dared to put their trust in you
when he was such a respectable man. He lost everything but you, you lost even
more.
You try to ignore the snickers of your schoolmates when you walk down the
hallway, you try to pretend like you can’t hear the insult they spit at you,
you pretend it doesn’t hurt the slightest when they ‘accidentally’ push you
against the lockers.

You’re the town’s lunatic, the crazy girl who almost killed an entire family.
You’re the liar, the paranoid, the psychopath. Bitch. Whore. Crazy. Weirdo.
Fucked up. The worst part is that, at some point, you actually started
believing in their words. This is who you are, there’s no need to pretend
otherwise anymore.

So, you give them exactly what they’re looking for: the bad girl, the lost
cause.
===============================================================================
 
The moment your feet touch the ground outside the school gates, the air seems
to fill up your lungs again, reinvigorating your drained body from long hours
spent in nothing but pure torture. School time was what you hated the most: too
much time to think, too much loneliness to bear. Just too much of everything.
You lift your head up to look ahead to the half-empty street and sure enough
there he is, the only tiny light in your world filled with darkness. Jeon
Jeongguk.
Everyone left you, slowly yet inevitably, leaving you alone in your pain and
despair, abandoning you to more sympathetic alleys: drugs and alcohol.

Everyone, except Jeongguk. He never gave up, he still puts up with you and your
tantrums and he still believes you can be saved, that deep down the girl he
once knew and loved is still there, hiding from the cruel world that destroyed
her. And even though you’ll never admit it out loud, he’s your anchor, the only
person keeping you attached to the ground, the only human being that makes you
want to keep going and live, live, as freely and happily as possible. Your
entire existence lays on the shoulders of Jeon Jeongguk and you’re so grateful
it almost scares you because your trust in him runs so deep he could end you
with a turn of his hand, he could shatter you into million pieces and there’d
be nothing left to save any more and, most of all, he could easily kill you if
he’d ever decided to leave you, like everyone else did.

You stop in your tracks, taking in his relaxed posture as he scans over his
surroundings, looking for you with his piercing onyx gaze, a little smile
creeping up on his features as soon as he spots you, his feet moving forward to
reach you.His body is lean, muscular, and his features are undeniably
beautiful: his soft rosy lips, the line of his perfect nose, his sharp jawline,
his profound eyes. Jeon Jeongguk is handsome and it’s so obvious that the girls
in your school actually stop walking to have a better look at him: the man that
every girl wants.

His walk is confident and relaxed, the smile permanent on his lips as he
reaches you, not sparing the tiniest glance to your classmates. That’s the
thing about Jeongguk: he never looks at anyone else when he’s with you and even
though you know you simply cannot reciprocate his feelings, you still dwell in
the fact that, for someone, you’re important. It’s egoistic, you know that, but
you can’t find in yourself the will to let him go.

“How was school?” his voice is soft yet perfectly audible as he stops in his
tracks, right next to you, his shoulder not so casually touching yours as he
looks ahead ready to walk you wherever you want to go.

“Boring” you declare, your voice flat as you move your first step forward not
knowing yourself where you’re going to end up to. There’s only one thing you
know: tonight, you’re going to get wasted. The how and where don’t really
matter.

“Legit” he hums in agreement, probably reminiscing the hours he spent behind
those four walls himself.

“What do you want to do?” he asks after a while, his shoulder still bouncing
against yours every now and then, his concept of personal space completely
different from yours.

“Get high in peace”, you roll your eyes at him making it absolutely clear
you’re not in the mood to talk, as always really, and he quickly complies,
following you in silence.

You don’t know why he puts up with you, really. You’re not a good friend to
him, hell, you’re not even a good person to begin with. Yet, he never sways. If
you didn’t know any better, you’d think of him as an angel.

Your feet come to a halt and you look up to the pub’s ensign: Wolf Hound. For
the first time that day, you smile.

You start soft, just a little beer, eating a hamburger to stuff your stomach
and not get drunk right away, even though getting drunk is what you’re aiming
for, and he follows you in silence, enjoying the time with you even though
there’s nothing to take from your company, especially when you’re still a
hundred percent sober.

You’re already a bit tipsy when you exit the pub to reach your next and final
stop for the night: Octagon Club.

The music is loud, the room already packed with people, and the heat engulfs
you as soon as you go in, the tiny dress you were wearing under the school
uniform hugging your curves tight. You’re not supposed to be there, you’re not
allowed to enter a club at your age but the make-up and fake ID make up for it
just fine.

Soon enough, without even knowing it, you’re inside the midst of people,
dancing, jumping, swinging along with the beat, the stress flowing out of your
body as the music drowns out the noise of your own thoughts.

Your body is covered in sweat and you don’t even know how long you’ve been
dancing or what time it is and, truth is, you don’t even care.

You’re already intoxicated, your blood slowly turning into alcohol as you drink
all your thoughts away, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop now that you feel
free, liberated, almost happy.

Tonight, when he approaches you, his hands gripping your hips with a soft yet
firm grasp, you have no will left to fight it and, for the very first time, you
let him dance with you, swinging to the music along with his body. If he’s
surprised, he doesn’t show it, but the look in his eyes tells you exactly what
he feels right in this moment, your body so close to his he can feel the heat
emanating from it.
You dance with him until you can’t feel your legs anymore and you take it as a
cue for the night. Grasping his hand, you silently guide him towards the seats
and as soon as you know it, the alcohol is flowing in front of your eyes again,
quieting your bottomless thirst.

You lick off the salt from Jeongguk’s hand, the tequila burns your throat right
after as you close your eyes, head thrown back as the liqueur seems to almost
bring pleasure to your body; when you open your eyes, you take the lime from
his hands and suck on it as the burning sensation disappears, slowly, leaving
behind just a dizzy feeling and a bitter taste in your mouth. And then again:
salt, tequila, lime. Repeat. Salt. Tequila. Lime. Repeat. Until you can’t even
spell your own name right, until you can’t even stand on your own feet, until
you can’t even see properly anymore, until the pain is only a dull memory and
your body weighs absolutely nothing as Jeongguk lifts you up, bringing you home
against your will, walking with you in his arms in the brisk night air, not
complaining even once. Truth is: he’s used to it by now. 

His body is the only source of heat out in the night, the sweat drying on your
skin making you shiver in his embrace. You fought him for a little while, not
ready to call the night off; you even fought him claiming you could walk on
your own when you were perfectly aware of how big of a lie that was. Your big
fortune is that he never listens to your whining. He is as stubborn as you are,
probably even more, and he is so used to it by now, your insults and cuss words
don’t even affect him anymore.

You’re not completely aware of the trip back home, the stares you get in the
subway don’t really register, and the time between the club’s exit and your
house’s door is really foggy and confused.

You scrunch up your nose as your body hits the softness of the mattress, the
inevitability of the night ending impossible to ignore now. You don’t want to
let this feeling go, you don’t want to lie there in the darkness, alone, with
your thoughts coming back up slowly yet inevitably. You want to be slightly
happy a bit longer, just a little bit longer.

Your eyes automatically close at the thought and he takes it as a sign you’re
about to fall asleep. That’s when he musters a bit of courage and sits right
beside you, his hand brushing the hair off from your face, caressing your skin
in the process.

“Happy Birthday,” he whispers, before planting a small and chaste kiss on your
cheek, the warmth of his lips sweltering your heart.

“Have sex with me,” you whisper back, your eyes opening to see him facing you,
the shocked expression on his face clear even in the dim light of your room.

“What did you just say?” he watches you as you get up, completely facing him,
your eyes fixed in his as you repeat your words again, your voice non-faltering
even once as if it was the most natural thing to say.

“I want you to have sex with me.”

He hesitates, not because he doesn’t know his answer but because he’s trying to
read you, to understand what is going on in your head right in this moment
because he knows, way too well, you’d never ask him this in your right state of
mind.

“No,” he finally says, his voice firm as he gets up, putting distance between
your bodies to finalize his words.

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely confused. If there is one thing you’re certain of
are his feelings for you. To be honest, you thought he’d agree without even
giving it a second thought.

“You’re drunk.” he retorts, his eyebrows almost touching as his gaze gets
colder by the second, showing you a side of him you have never seen before.

“So what?” you remark while getting up, reducing your distance so much so your
chests almost touch, “I want you,” you whisper in a vague attempt to lure him
in and get him inside your panties, “I know you want me too,” you add before
brushing your nose with his.

You never addressed his feelings for you so openly, you always acted like you
had no idea whatsoever simply because it was easier that way. Of course, he
knows as well that his feelings are no secret for you, yet, you saying that,
makes his inside twitch uncomfortably.

“Not when you’re intoxicated by alcohol,” he retorts, stepping back once again.

“What difference does it make? I’m still me,” your voice trembles a little as
you say this, your emotions cracking through the mask you put on every day.

You never needed to beg for sex like tonight and you don’t know why but you’re
starting to feel more and more pathetic and gross as the minutes tick by around
you.

“You’d regret it in the morning.” His voice sounds flat and almost defeated as
he looks away from you, pushing any temptations aside, his rationality fogged
by the alcohol as well.

He’s right, of course, he is and you know it. Jeon Jeongguk is always right and
you absolutely hate it.

Tears fall from your eyes, wet and warm as they stream alongside your face,
your lips trembling as you turn your back on him. You’re desperate tonight,
needy. It’s not sex that you want: it’s warmth, human contact that can make you
forget how miserable your life is. You crave for love more than you can
possibly admit and you know, the only person in the whole world that can give
you that is standing right behind you.

His refusal makes you feel even more lonely in the vastness of this planet that
doesn’t seem to want you or care for you.

Your mind starts wandering to a happier place, to a certain point in time in
which you felt loved and important and, soon enough, his eyes are staring right
back at you, his words automatically speaking words he doesn’t mean but that
make your heart flutter nonetheless.

You fall on your bed, your back still facing Jeongguk as you wander through the
memories of you and Eric, the only man you ever loved.

You don’t even realize it but you start whimpering audibly, his name escaping
your mouth as you struggle to push him out of your thoughts.

“Eric doesn’t want you anymore, don’t you get it?!”  he spits out all of a
sudden, the venom toxic in your ears, infiltrating in your heart, poisoning you
from within, “Get your shit together, ____!” he’s tense, biting his bottom lip,
his words still cutting your skin through and through, the pain spreading
slowly, obfuscating your thoughts.

Who gave him the right to speak his name in front of you? How dare he twists
the knife in the already opened wound, wrenching your insides with painful
turns of the wrist? It feels like the pain can’t stop from going deeper,
deeper, making you nauseous, almost making you gag on thin air.

So you flare up, the rage invading every cell of your being, the anger filling
every pore of your skin until you feel like scratching him, slapping him,
kicking him, pushing him away where you will never see his face or hear his
voice again.
All that escapes your mouth, though, is a simple demand, your voice as feeble
as a leaf under the autumn’s breeze.

“Don’t call me that”, you hate the sound of your name now, just as much as you
hate the sound of his; nobody calls you like that anymore because everybody
knows: ____ is dead and she’s never coming back.

It’s in moments like this that it hits you: how much you lost, how much you
changed, how much broken beyond repair you are, how much you’re wasting your
entire life mourning over someone who never loved you, cared for you or even
truly known you.

The pain hits you hard again, knocking the breath out of your lungs as you feel
the anxiety creeping back up, trying to claim your mental sanity once again.
You don’t want him to see you like that, you don’t want anyone to witness how
dark the pit you’re in is. Especially not him.

“Go away,” you hiss as you spring back up on your feet, your arms pushing on
his chest with the little strength you have left as to make your words even
more clear.

You turn your back on him, failing to notice the fact that he doesn’t even
budge, unfazed by your antics, and with trembling hands, you reach for the
pills on your bedside table. You need those more than ever tonight if you want
to have a little peace for a couple of hours. The pills grant you a haven to
turn to when the world gets too harsh for you to handle. The pills are your
anchor, the only thing keeping you from completely losing your mind.

They fall in your hand rapidly and you tilt your head back to welcome them into
your mouth but suddenly a firm grip holds your wrist, stopping you.

Your eyes meet once again with his onyx ones, his gaze darker than ever, the
anger clear in the way he furrows his brows, in the way his lips turn into a
straight line as he grabs the pills and the entire bottle from your hands.
You’re too astonished to do anything and before you can stop him he runs to
your bathroom and flash them inside the toilet.

“No!” the scream that escapes your mouth is one of pure horror as you grab his
hoodie, pulling him towards you as to get him away from the toilet when the
damage is already been done.

“WHY?! Why did you do this to me?!” you yell, turning him around to slap him
hard against the face, the tears running hot on your cheeks, “I
can’t fucking sleep without these you moron!”  you keep yelling at him, hitting
his chest as you cry out loud, the despair amplified by the alcohol running in
your system, “I just want to sleep and not wake up in tears,” your voice
softens as your lips tremble uncontrollably, the sobs shaking you so hard they
make it harder to even breath.
Is it too much to ask? To have a peaceful dreamless night? You’re not entitled
to even that? Do you have to live your entire life in this kind of pain?

“You don’t need that shit,” he spits back, blocking your wrists so that you
can’t hit him any longer.

“You don’t know that! You don’t know what it feels like! I just want to fucking
sleep,” you try to reason with him but you know he wouldn’t understand. No one
can understand, not even him. You’re so alone in this that it scares you to no
end. Will this really be your entire life?

“You’re fucking drunk, _____, ok? You can’t take these!” his hands move to rest
on the sides of your face, his thumbs removing the tears from your cheeks, his
stroke soft and slow in an attempt to soothe you, “If you take pills when
you’re drunk you can die, do you understand that?” his eyes fix on yours, more
gentle now, as he tries to manage his anger and let the words sink in.

“What is it to you if I die?” you ask in a whisper. The question is stupid, you
realize that even in the state you’re in, yet, you wait for the answer with
your heart going rampant in your chest. You want to hear those words by someone
who means them, at least once.

“Don’t even joke on that,” he lets go of your face so quick it almost seems
like you burned his skin.

“Answer me,” your voice is pleading, your heart rate still increasing as you
wait for his reply, “Why do you care if I die?” you repeat in a whisper, your
eyes begging him to say it, you need him to say it.

“____” he seems tired now that you look at him. Defeated. You start to wonder
if this is going to be the breaking point, the last drop to make him fed up
with you and leave you behind for good.

“Why?” you repeat once again searching for his eyes that are now fixed on the
ground.

That really seems to be last string for him.

“Because I fucking love you, that’s why!” he flares up in one instant, yelling
at you those words you were so keen on hearing him say.

He’s mad at you but you don’t even care, not when he’s putting his feeling out
there in the open, not when he keeps loving you even when you’re like this,
broken beyond repair.

His love almost makes you want to cry because it is pure and it doesn’t need
anything in return. He just wants you to be alive and happy and that’s an
unconditional love not even your mother could give you.

“Prove it,” you whisper, not daring to take even a step forward in fear he may
push you away again.

“What?” he’s whispering too now, his expression so lost and confused it almost
resembles a kid that lost his way back home.

“Take the bad thoughts away.” the words escape your mouth easily but they send
a shiver down your spine making your heart jump in your chest. You have no idea
if this is the alcohol or the way he screamed his feelings at you, but you
never desired him as much as you do now.

His eyes wander on your face for a split second before he moves forward, his
hands cupping your face as he crushes his lips onto yours, the kiss sloppy and
needy, almost desperate.

A moan escapes his mouth when his tongue moves past your lips and encircles
your own, finally tasting what he had been craving for, for such a long time.
The aftertaste of tequila and lemon takes you by surprise letting you wonder if
he’s as intoxicated as you are right now. You start wondering if either of you
will remember this in the morning or not. You pray, for the first time in your
life you actually pray, because you don’t want to forget this, you don’t want
to wake up and not know how he tastes like, how good and perfect it feels to
have him like this, completely and utterly yours.

Your hands find their way in his locks, dragging him closer and closer until
your chests brush against each other, your tongue moving around his as the kiss
gets even messier.

His hands leave your face to land on your ass as he lifts you up to push you on
your bed, his lips never once leaving yours.

You don’t know how he does it but soon enough you’re out of your tiny dress,
half naked in front of his hooded eyes and that’s when he finally leaves your
already swollen lips and takes a good look at you.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers to himself as his eyes wander up and down
your body, his tongue licking his lips as a sign he really likes what he sees.
The look of complete adoration he has is enough to make your insides twitch and
your hips roll up to meet his in an unspoken beg for more.

When he takes your lips again he’s much calmer, the kiss deep but slow and
softer as to savor your taste better, imprinting it in his mind, wondering if
this will be the first and last time he’s allowed to touch you like this.

His hands are restless, caressing your hips, your waist and then your breasts
firing your entire body up with his simple strokes. Again, you can’t tell if
this is the alcohol but you’re sure you never felt this way before. The way he
touches you it’s heaven like and you keep wanting more, more and more.

His lips move to kiss your jaw, your neck, sucking so hard on it you’re sure
it’s going to leave a mark there for a few days, and then down on your chest,
his tongue brushing out of his mouth to leave a trace of saliva on your nipple.
He keeps going down, down, leaving open mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach
making you whimper in pleasure.

His tongue stops right above the elastic of your underwear and you find
yourself bucking your hips forward, impatient and needy for his touch.

He smirks but doesn’t tease you, too eager himself to make you his. His hand
finds its way between your legs as he kisses your lips once again, his fingers
moving expertly on your clitoris sensing how wet you’re already are from his
simple touches.

You start rocking your hips forward, meeting his hand, begging for more
friction as he leaves your lips, sliding down your panties, your core finally
revealing to him.

He’s quick to bury his face between your legs, his tongue darting out to taste
your flavor as you start to whimper and shiver under his ministrations.

He licks, sucks, kiss in a way you never experienced before and it’s absolutely
perfect. Before you know it, you’re moaning his name, rocking your hips to meet
his godlike tongue as you can feel the pleasure building up inside your
stomach.
You come like this, your hands in his hair, as his tongue gathers all you have
to offer, a satisfied moan escaping his lips while your body contracts under
his ministrations.
  
His swollen lips find their way to yours again and you can taste your own
juices inside his mouth now, your eyes automatically closing as you get lost
inside the kiss, your legs encircling his lower body, pressing him down onto
you, his erection brushing against your still overly sensitive core.

He moans inside the kiss when you buckle your hips forward to meet his and you
find yourself smiling, enjoying the way he responds so easily to everything you
do.

Your hands move on his back, your fingers brushing against his covered muscles,
until you get a hold of the hem of his hoodie, lifting it up to reveal is toned
chest and abs.

He leaves your lips to help you remove his clothing giving you the chance to
look at him, to truly look at him. His toned body looks like marble in the dim
light and you could swear to God you had never seen something so perfect in
your entire life. Your fingers move automatically on his refined abs, your
stroke gentle and soft as you take in every detail of his body.

His cheeks are slightly red now and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s shy or
because he’s feeling terribly hot with his erection still trapped inside his
pants.

“I don’t want to forget this,” you whisper to yourself as you push him over to
straddle him, your hands gripping his wrist to trap his arms above his head. He
looks at you entranced as you move your face towards his neck, mimicking what
he did to you earlier that night: you suck and nip at his delicate skin leaving
a trace of hickeys all the way from his collar down to his abdomen, marking him
as your own.

His breathing is fast and you can hear him whimper more and more as you get
closer to his arousal and only when he unconsciously moves his hips forward you
actually release him from his pants and underwear, letting his erection free,
pre-cum already leaking from his tip.

You lock gaze with him, positioning yourself right above him and without any
notice you sink onto him making him gasp in surprise. You whimper at the
sensation of him filling you up completely and you find yourself closing your
eyes, tilting your head backwards as you slowly rock your hips against his,
little moans escaping from his mouth as he watches you ride him with pleasure
displayed on your features.

When you open your eyes again you find him looking at you, his eyes half closed
as little sighs keep escaping from his control while you pick up pace, his arms
still trapped above his head.

The way he completely surrendered to you excites you even more, making you
bolder with your moves.

His eyes are desperate now, the need to touch you palpable in the way he jerks
his arms in your grip trying to release himself, his hips moving to meet your
own and increase the pleasure for you both.

You finally let him go and in a second his hands are all over you, stroking
your breasts, grabbing your hips to guide your pace, grasping your ass as he
moans your name once again.

In this moment, the sound of your name is far away from being obnoxious, in
fact, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. The way it rolls out of his
tongue in pleasured moans is what makes you want to give him more; anything you
have to offer, you want it to be his.

He grips your hips to make you stop moving and as he slips off of you the
emptiness you feel makes you whine shamelessly before he kisses your lips ever
so softly, guiding you until your back hits the mattress once again.

As soon as you open your legs for him he’s inside of you once again, his
strokes gentle and deep as he tries to find the right spot that will get you to
paradise.
One of his hands rests next to your face, giving him the support, while the
other one is busy stroking every inch of your body he can possibly have access
to, his face so close to yours your breaths mingle together.

The moment his stroke reaches your bundle of nerves your eyes roll back in your
head, your hands grabbing the sheets so hard your knuckles turn white, your
moans filling the room within seconds as every cell in your body screams his
name, over and over again: Jeongguk, Jeongguk, Jeongguk.
===============================================================================
 
Your eyes open as the sunlight illuminates your room completely, the blinds on
your window not enough to keep the light out, not allowing you to get as much
sleep as you need.

Your head throbs and you feel like throwing up, clear sign of how much alcohol
went down your pipe last night. You close your eyes again trying to remember
what exactly happened but all you can remember is going inside the Octagon
Club. You have absolutely no idea how you returned home but you suppose it was
thanks to Jeongguk.

You stretch a little, feeling your muscles ache, and that’s when you realize
you’re not exactly able to move freely.

Your eyes open immediately as you can finally register the arm above your
chest, encircling you, keeping you in place.

Did you bring someone home last night? You try to remember but your mind is
completely blank. One thing is sure: you’re naked and that must mean you had a
ton of fun last night.

You sigh, closing your eyes again in an attempt to dull the pain in your head.
Biting your bottom lip, you open your eyes again, moving your head to your
right so you can see the face of the guy holding you tight.

Your heart stops beating for a second before it goes rampant in your
chest. Jeongguk. The man that is holding you is a naked Jeongguk.

“Fuck,” you hiss, panic shooting through you as you try with all your might to
remember even the tiniest thing. How could you end up sleeping with him?
You can feel your eyes prickling with tears from how scared you are right
now. This is a fucking disaster.

You try to move inside his embrace without waking him up, suddenly feeling like
you cannot breathe properly.

His grip is somewhat firm and you’re too scared to wake him and therefore face
him to really try escaping him so you stay in place, your eyes wandering on the
details of his face.

His features are relaxed, his rosy lips slightly parted, his chest heaving up
and down at a slow and calm rate. His eyelashes are long, that’s what you
notice for the first time ever, his nose is smaller than you remembered and he
looks so much younger in this moment you actually feel the need to protect him
even though he’s older than you. You furrow your brows a little at the silly
thought before sighing loudly.

“Fuck,” you hiss again, the sense of guilt now hitting you full force. You
don’t know what happened last night but you do know that you used him. You’re
one and only friend. How could you do this? How could you risk ruining your
relationship over something like sex?

The tears prickle your eyes once again, but you push them back, trying to calm
yourself down. Maybe, maybe, this isn’t as bad as it seems.
He stirs in his sleep and slowly opens his eyes, a small smile forming on his
lips as soon as he sees you right next to him.

“Hey,” he whispers, brushing his nose against yours.

Your heart is beating so fast you can swear to God he must be able to hear it
and, if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you don’t even know if
it’s his presence doing this to you or the fact that you’re terrified.

You bite your bottom lip so hard you think it’ll probably bleed soon, your eyes
as big as saucers as you follow every single move he makes.

He’s still smiling at you when he starts to notice the way you’re looking at
him, the feelings from last night long gone in your features. His smile falters
before fading away completely, followed by a sadder expression that hurts your
hearth as well.

His face has lost all the innocence it had when he was asleep and you know
you’re to blame for that. You’re to blame for everything that is going to come
next.

“I told you, you’d regret it,” he whispers has he completely lets go of you,
getting up at the speed of light, his back facing you as he quickly dresses up
in last night’s clothes.

You close your eyes as you feel your insides twitch at his words. What did you
do?

“I… don’t remember,” you admit, shamefully, your voice slightly trembling as
you lift yourself up as well.

He doesn’t reply to that, his back obstinately towards you as he fumbles with
his shoelaces obviously trying to run away from you as soon as possible.

He gets up and, before you know it, he’s at the door, ready to swing it open
and leave you behind. Just like everyone else always does.

“Where are you going?” you ask, the panic clear in your voice.

“Home,” his voice sounds almost harsh to you and you can’t tell if it’s your
imagination or not.

“Are you going to act like any other random fuck I had?!” your voice is squeaky
as you get up, pulling on yourself a random t-shirt you found on the floor.

“Isn’t that what I am?” he asks back, finally turning to look at you, “Just a
random fuck?” you can sense hurt in his voice and that adds to the enormous
sense of guilt you already feel.

“It’s ok,” he adds, defeated, as his eyes land on the ground, “It was stupid of
me to expect anything else. You were drunk, I should have known better.”

He’s hurt. He’s so hurt you can see it in his eyes and you start to fear he
will never be able to look at you the same way again. This is it. This is the
end.
He takes your silence as a cue for him to leave so he opens the door, his head
hanging low as he steps forward.

“Don’t leave me!” you find yourself almost screaming at him as you grab his
arm, almost desperately, taking him by surprise.

You’re being pathetic, you can see it too, but the thought of losing him is
stronger than your ego. Hell, you’re even ready to beg.

“I want to remember,” you whisper, his eyes piercing right through you, his
gaze so intense you start to question if he’s able to see through all the masks
you put on every single day. Maybe he does see you, maybe he has always been
able to actually see you as who you are, behind all this pain and fear and open
wounds, “Tell me what happened last night.”

The sigh that escapes his lips is heavy, his shoulders tensing up as he looks
away, recollecting all the things you can’t remember, putting them in the right
order.

“I threw away your pills,” he states, quietly, furrowing his brows as he does
so, the discomfort palpable in the way his body tenses up.  “So you asked me to
take the bad thoughts away instead of them.” A sad smile depicts his features
causing your heart to sink in your chest.

You touch the soft skin of his hand, timidly asking for the permission to touch
him and when he doesn’t push you away, you interlace your fingers in his, the
sensation suddenly familiar even though you’re quite sure this is the very
first time you held his hand.

“I can’t give you what you want,” you whisper, your eyes fixed on your hands
that fit perfectly into each other.

“I know,” he says with a sigh, biting his bottom lip in nervousness.

“I can’t love someone else when I don’t even love myself” your voice trembles
as you let down all your defenses, admitting for the first time in a while how
you feel. Instead of sheltering away like you always do, this time you open
your heart to him to let him see what’s inside.

Love is such a losing game, you tell yourself, as you look at the young man
standing right in front of you. He could have anyone he’d want, yet he wants
you: the only person that can’t love him back. And you had to give all your
love to someone that didn’t deserve even an ounce of it, wasting the most
beautiful years of your life when you could’ve been happy, truly happy, with
Jeongguk.

“I can love you for the both of us” he whispers before taking your lips in a
soft kiss.

A part of you tells you to push him away, to not let his hopes up, but you
don’t stop him from kissing you, you don’t protest when he throws you on the
bed either because, for once, you want to believe that there is hope for you
too in this cruel world.
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