BTS Reaction - Pulling away
Jin’s practically shaking with laughter as he tells you his anecdote, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, but really, you’re only half-listening.
“And then Kookie, he said-” Jin cuts himself short when he looks at you from across the table, his eyebrows starting to pull downward into a frown as he realises how little you’re actually paying attention. Usually you’d be laughing along with him - you’ve got the same lame sense of humour he does, and he loves you for it - but tonight you’re just staring at your plate, poking at your food, and it’s starting to unsettle him. “Jagi, is everything ok?”
“Hm?” you ask distractedly, only glancing up at him for a moment before your eyes drop once more.
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s fine, Jin, I’m just… I’ve just gone off fish a little lately,” you tell him. It’s a lame excuse, but you’d rather tell him that than tell him the truth - tell him that the reason you can’t eat is because you feel so nauseous with anxiety that you might throw up if you eat anymore.
“Ah, it’s a good job I made your favourite dessert then!” he says enthusiastically, getting up from the table and whisking your still-full plate out from in front of you to take it to the kitchen. “Can’t have you going hungry.”
God, why does he have to be so sweet all the time? So god damn perfect? It’ll only make it feel so much worse when it eventually falls apart - and you know it will, because when you’re involved everything always does. It’s inevitable.
“You know what, I think I might just go home,” you say quickly, before he’s even managed to pull on his gloves to take out the apple pie you can smell cooking in the oven. He falters, coming to a standstill between the kitchen counters, and when you finally bring yourself to look at him it makes your heart thud painfully. “I don’t feel too good.”
“Ok, let me drive you-”
“It’s fine, I’ll get a cab.” If you say ‘it’s fine’ one more time this evening you think you might punch yourself in the face. It’s not fine, nothing is, but you know it’s best you pull away a little now, before you both get in too deep. At least it might help to soften the blow.
“Ok….” you hear him mumble as he turns off the oven and you pull on your coat. He walks you to the door, and now it’s him that can’t look at you. “Hope you feel better soon.”
“See you soon?”
“See you soon,” you reply, and it feels like a goodbye.
“So I was thinking; there’s a new Mexican place that’s opened,” Yoongi tells you, his voice sounding even lower than usual over the phone after he’s clearly just woken up. “You wanna go check it out sometime?”
“Hm… I dunno,” you mumble, rolling over in bed, your cell smushed between your ear and the pillow.
“C’mon, their churros are supposed to be the shit.” Despite yourself, you end up smiling at Yoongi’s words. You wish you hadn’t though. That momentary flicker of happiness now just makes you feel all the more miserable as you stare at the picture of Yoongi and you you’ve got pinned to your bedside cabinet.
“I don’t really like Mexican food…” You’re trying so hard to find an excuse not to make plans, to avoid seeing him for a little while. It’s not that you don’t care about Yoongi. Jesus, you most definitely do - but therein lies the problem. It’s starting to feel scary now, how close you’re becoming. You’re seeing each other too often, he’s texting you every day, and it feels wrong now if you go to sleep without hearing him say goodnight. This growing dependency on him, this vulnerability; it’s terrifying.
“Since when?” he scoffs, and all you can do in reply is sigh. There’s a silence on the other end of the line, and in the end you have to roll away from that picture of the two of you that you love so much. His eyes are too penetrating, too perceptive, even in a frozen image. “What about chinese then? You love chinese.” He’s right, you do, and there’s no way you can deny that - not when the last time you went you ended up stuffing your face so much that he had to nurse you with a bad belly for the rest of the night.
“Can I maybe just take a raincheck? I’ve got so much work to do, Yoongi, and I’m sure you’re busy too.”
There’s silence again but this time it feels uncomfortable, and it’s making you fidget even without being able to see the frosty expression you know he’ll be wearing right now.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, Noona? I’ve done it enough times myself to know when someone’s holding back.” You swallow hard, staring at the wall and starting to chew your thumbnail nervously. What are you supposed to say when he’s called you out like that; made you feel like the idiot you know you are?
He gives you an adequate amount of time to reply, to turn back from this road you’re travelling down, but when no response comes you hear him sigh, even his voice turning cold when his next words travel into your ears.
“Either call me when you’re ready to get real, or don’t bother calling me at all.”
“Ah, babygirl, that was amazing.” Hobi’s still panting from exertion as he lies next to you, staring at the ceiling with the goofiest of grins on his faces. He’s always like this after you’ve had sex, always deliriously happy, like every time you do it is his first time, and you know what’s coming next.
He rolls onto his side, grabbing the sheet and pulling it up to cover your naked, sticky bodies and then snuggling closer, slinging his arm over his hip and pulling you close, sweat be damned. He always gets so affectionate too, so tactile when he’s dosed up on oxytocin, and though at first you loved it, lately it’s become nothing but a source of anxiety to you. It’d be fine if cuddling was all it was, but it’s not just that. No, Hobi insists on lying there staring at you like you’re his everything, his entire world, his eyes taking in every little of your face until you end up laughing and batting him away, telling him to stop being such a freak.
You don’t want him to look at you like that and nor do you want to be placed on his pedestal; not when you know it’ll make your inevitable fall from grace so much higher and more painful. You don’t deserve all these loving looks and touches, not when you’re going to break his heart. Though you don’t yet know how it’ll happen yet you know it will, because it’s just what you do.
“I wish we could do this all day, every day,” he says wistfully, reaching up to thumb your cheek, staring back into your eyes. You try to diffuse things with humour, rolling your eyes and pushing his hand away from your face, trying to ignore the way hurt flickers across his face.
“That’s ‘cus you’re a horny bastard, Hobi.” You sit up to put some distance between you, running your fingers through your hair to try and put it right. Of course, he then sits up too, smoothing out the part of your hair at the back you can’t see to fix with his gentle hands.
“Not just for that,” he persists, smiling cheekily, “I just like having you here, sex or no sex. C’mon, wouldn’t you love to wake up to this face every morning?”
“I guess,” you answer non-committedly, trying not to let your mind even hope to dream of your life ever being so wonderful. You need to get out of here, before he starts dangling more perfect happy-ever-afters in front of your face, lies that you know will never come true. Finding your underwear you start to get dressed, avoiding the questioning look in Hobi’s eyes.
“I thought you didn’t have to work today?”
“Yeah…” You pull your sweater on, glad that it hides your face, even for just a second. “But I’ve got a lot I need to get done so…”
“I’d kind of… I mean I’d planned on us having the whole day together…” he says quietly, unable to hide the disappointment and confusion on his face. “If I’d known you were gonna go so soon I wouldn’t have-”
“Don’t worry, Hobi, it was fun.” You slip your feet into your shoes, practically running to his bedroom door as soon as they’re on, forcing a false smile on your face. “I had fun.” Fun, that’s all it is… it’s all it was ever supposed to be. You weren’t supposed to end up liking him, needing him, lovin- “Let me know next time you wanna hook up.”
“Hook up,” he repeats, his voice breaking. Hobi looks like you’ve just plunged a knife straight into his heart, and though it breaks your own to see him in so much pain, you know it’s for the best. Better now, rather than later. “Right… sure.”
“So… what do you think?”
What do you think? You think the song you just heard was amazing; one of the best Namjoon’s ever written, and that’s saying a lot when he’s so ridiculously talented to begin with. You’re stunned, dumbstruck by the fact he’d write such beautiful lyrics about you, for you, and if you were a better person you’d probably start to cry with joy that your boyfriend wants to tell the world just how much you mean to him.
But you’re not a good person, not like him, not even close, so instead of telling Namjoon how proud you are of him, how much you’ve come to love him, you say anything you can think of to drive a wedge between you.
“I don’t think you should put it on the album,” you say blankly, trying to keep your face impassive as you look back into his hopeful eyes. “I don’t think the executives would be happy with it.” His face falls, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to fathom you’re unexpected response. You see his jaw clench, and you know he’s trying so hard to brace himself for whatever constructive criticism he thinks is coming. It’s taken a long time for him to learn to do that so graciously; yet another skill he’s mastered.
“You don’t like it? I know the bridge needs some work, but I can fix-”
“The song’s fine, Joonie,” you interrupt, making him pause mid-swivel in his chair to turn back to you rather than his desk. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. ARMY won’t like you shoving your love-life in their faces - they want you guys permanently single so they can keep all their little fantasies about you.” Namjoon seems stunned into silence for a moment, and honestly, you’re a little impressed at just how reasonable your argument sounds too. Cold, yes, but logical. Surely with his big brain Namjoon should be happy enough accept your reasoning and let it lie?
He’s quiet for a long while, face pensive until he finally get up out of his chair and comes to sit beside you, taking your hand.
“I don’t care. We’ve always been able to write write the music we want… how we want it. And the fans want us to be happy.” Well… how do you argue with that? He sits stroking the back of your hand with his thumb while he waits for you to say something, and now your mind has gone blank, unable to think of anything to say that won’t just sound harsh or cruel.
“You might be happy to tell the world about us, Joonie but… I’m not.” Harsh it is then. You take your hand back, clamping both of them between your legs as you look to the floor, avoiding the hurt in his eyes. “We never said this was going to be anything serious.”
“I see.” His voice is tight, controlled as he speaks, suddenly sitting up straighter. He waits for a second, perhaps to see if you’ll sat any more, take it all back, but when you don’t he simply returns to his desk, facing the screen like you’re not even there. “You may as well go home… I’m gonna be up all night trying to re-write this.”
Your phone goes off for what feels like the hundredth time today, an unpleasantly harsh trill that shrieks through your otherwise quiet apartment, and once again you have to fight the urge to look, to read the text you know is waiting for you there. If you look you’re more likely to reply, and you’re trying so, so hard to give yourself some space, to put some distance between you and the man you’re getting far too close to.
You know what it’ll say anyway, more or less. It’ll be Jimin being his usual sweet self, asking if you’re ok, asking you to please, please get back to him. Why aren’t you replying? Are you sure you’re ok? Do you need him to come over? Why are you so quiet? It’s killing you. Every time your phone goes off it feels like a punch to the gut, because you do so desperately want to reply. But you can’t, you mustn’t. You’ve gotten too attached to him, too attached to this perfect boy whom all the girls want to touch.
You’re not stupid. You’ve seen his fan-pages, you’ve seen the things they say about him. And it’s not like you can blame them, but you’re too insecure to deal with having a boyfriend who’s wanted by so many. You’ve been cheated on once before, and it’ll only be a matter of time before Jimin realises he’s too good for you and does the same; finds another girl who’s prettier and thinner and more interesting than you. It’s better for you to protect yourself now, to pull away while you still can, before it’s too late.
So you ignore his messages even as tears roll down your cheeks, lying on the sofa and holding yourself, just waiting for it to stop hurting so much. Time passes, although you don’t keep track of how much; all you know is that eventually it goes dark outside, and your tired eyes are just starting to droop when all of a sudden your doorbell rings, jolting you awake again.
You shuffle your way over to the door, half-asleep and wrapped in your blanket, pulling it open before you think to look through the spy-hole to check who it is. Of course it would be Jimin standing there to see you looking like this, like the mess that you are, his eyes widening as he takes in your bloodshot eyes.
“Oh baby… baby, what’s wrong?” He steps inside before you can stop him, wrapping you up in his arms over the top of your blanket, pulling your head into the crook of his neck.
You don’t want this, or at least for second you try to tell yourself that you don’t… but it’s just no use. Relenting, you let yourself be held by him, inhaling the scent of his aftershave that’s become synonymous with happiness and giving yourself over to it all, at least for now. You let him kiss you with your face in his hands, let him promise you that he’ll make it all ok, and you let yourself believe in this lie, just for a little while longer.
“You know I love you… Whatever it is, baby, we’ll fix it… I love you,” he tells you over and over, his face pressed into your hair and all you can do is cry because you know you love him too, and you know it’ll never be enough.
“Tae, Tae, stop it!” you giggle, trying your best to throw him off whilst ensuring you’re clenching your pelvic floor as hard as you possibly can; he’s be tickling you for what feels like forever now, and you’ll be damned if you give him the satisfaction of peeing yourself for him to tease you about that too.
“Not until you call me Oppa!” he shouts back, sat on your stomach, his bony fingers digging into your ribs as he grins down at you. He’s such a masochist - you know he’s getting off on this really, watching you squirm and struggle.
“You’re like one month older than me, weirdo!”
“Op-pa!” he persists, accentuating every syllable, his eyes narrowing when you shake your head. His fingertips start to creep towards your armpits, your weakest spot, and no matter how hard you try to push his hands away he’s just too strong. You barely make it ten seconds before you’re shouting ‘oppa’ over and over again, tears streaming from your eyes, just wanting it to end. Finally, he relents, sitting up with a satisfied smirk on his face.
That’s when you chose your moment to strike. You reach out to twist his nipples through his shirt, grinning wickedly, but before you can do anything Taehyung’s grabbed both your wrists and pinning them above your head, growling like an animal. A beat passes where you just look at each other, both out of breath, and then you’re laughing again, in hysterics as you so often are when you’re together, only stopping when Taehyung eagerly crashes his lips against yours.
You expect the kiss to become more passionate, if anything, so you’re surprised when it gets softer, Tae letting go of your wrists to stroke his hands gently through your hair and down onto your face. When he pulls away, still rubbing his thumbs along your cheeks, there’s something shining in his eyes that you’ve never seen from him before, some emotion that until now has been unknown. You know exactly what it is though, you know because it’s exactly the same thing you can feel swelling in your own chest.
He opens his mouth to speak, and that’s when you panic. You’re not ready to hear those words again, and you’re certainly not ready to say them again. Not after last time, not after what happened when-
You sit up abruptly, pushing him off you and hurrying to stand, grabbing your jacket from the sofa to leave before Taehyung snatches it back from your hand after having stood up almost as quickly as you. He look so confused, his mouth hanging open, head tilted to the side as he tries to make sense of your sudden and unexpected change in behaviour.
“Just don’t say it, Tae,” you snap, snatching your jacket back but just holding it there by your side, fist clenched, “I don’t want to hear it, ok? Don’t say it, because you can’t take it back.”
“Jagiya…” he whispers softly, his eyes starting to mist over with moisture, chin practically trembling as you flinch away from the touch of his hand.
“Just… just leave it, please?” You sound like you’re begging, on the verge of tears now too, and before he can try to reach out to you again you run from his apartment, leaving Taehyung to dissolve into tears, wondering how on earth it all suddenly went so wrong.
He’s been getting possessive lately - it’s all too obvious for anyone who looks to see. Every time you hang out with the rest of the group he keeps getting all… handsy. Not in an inappropriate way or anything, but any time you’re talking to another guy he’ll just casually wrap his arm around your waist or lay it across your shoulder, like he’s subtly marking his territory.
You’re sure other girls wouldn’t mind. They’d probably love to have someone like Jungkook lay his claim on them, thrilled to be considered such a prize worth protecting, but when he does it to you all you can think about is your ex-boyfriend and how he used to be exactly the same. Jealous, possessive, irrational, constantly accusing you of cheating even though he was the one that was fucking your best friend behind your back. Ex-best friend, should you say.
There’s a lot of ex’s in your past, for one reason or another, and that’s why after a few dates you’re still resisting Jungkook’s attempts to make the two of you into something more. You can do without another ex to add to your list, thank you very much, no matter how much you can feel him getting under your skin with each and every day that passes. That’s just another reason why you want to keep him at arm’s length - you can’t afford to let yourself be vulnerable. Not again. You’re not letting anyone hurt you like that ever again.
Jungkook seems to be feeling particularly threatened today, though you’re not entirely sure why. Perhaps it’s because of the skirt you’re wearing, or maybe it’s the way Yoongi keeps looking at you from across the room, but either way it’s starting to get your back up. He doesn’t own you, and it’s the desire to show Jungkook exactly that that eventually drives you across to the other side of the studio to sit down next to Yoongi, smiling like a cheshire cat.
You can feel his eyes on you the moment you strike up a conversation, eyes that you pointedly ignore, choosing instead to act like everything Yoongi says is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. You lean your body into his, leaning your head on his shoulder as you laugh, placing your hand on his thigh and leaving it to linger there far longer than necessary. Yoongi’s loving every second of it, lapping it up until Jungkook finally snaps and comes striding over, trying to look casual and failing miserably at doing so.
“Namjoon wants you,” he tells Yoongi, not even looking at his elder as he says it. No, his eyes are fixed on you, full of both anger and hurt, and the moment Yoongi gets up with a groan Jungkook is taking his spot, flopping down at your side. You see him tick his head to the side, clenching his jaw in the silence that follows, and find yourself smiling before you can help it at his adorable habit.
God damn it, you really need to put a stop to this now, before you get even more attached than you already are.
“Why were you acting like that?” he asks after a moment, once he’s sure the rest of his friends are sufficiently preoccupied.
“Acting like what?” you reply, sounding as innocent as possible, and you know it’s pissing him off because his jaw clenches again, his hands balling into fists and relaxing again where they hang over his knees.
“Flirting with Yoongi like that. You were all over him.”
“So?” you blurt out, only realising after you’ve already said it just how cold and callous you sound. Jungkook actually looks taken aback when you turn your head to the side to look at him, his usually soft, doe eyes widened in confusion, no anger left to see.
“So…?” he repeats quietly. You stare him out, trying not to flinch at the sharp feeling of guilt that stabs through you when he falters first, turning his head with a shake and looking to the ground, swallowing against the lump you can guess that’s forming in his throat. “I thought…”
“We’ve been on like… what… four dates, Jungkook?” You sound condescending and cruel, and you hate yourself for it. What a heartless bitch those exs have turned you into, huh? “You can’t tell me you thought it was serious?”