“Come here,” Jungkook ordered, beckoning for me to come closer.
I went to him and his arm snaked out, grasping my hand in his and tugging me onto his lap. His body was strong and warm. Both dominating and comforting. I burrowed my face into the crook of his shoulders, inhaling his fresh and natural manly scent.
His lips brushed against my temple, so tenderly, it surprised me. “You have to forgive yourself first and that’s when you will find true salvation.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the tears. “I don’t know how.”
“Guilt is toxic, Y/n,” he said. “As long as you carry that burden, you will continue to relive the past over and over again. You’ll never be able to forgive yourself then. We’re humans and we’re severely flawed. You and Fina innocently sneaked out that night. Like most young adults do. So, forgive yourself because you can’t see the future. You didn’t know this accident would have happened.”
I fell silent, considering his words. Tears flooded down my cheeks and I sniffled, quietly. Jungkook could probably hear me since I was doing such a bad job at being quiet, but he allowed me to have this moment.
Everything he said made sense, but there was an ache burrowed deep inside my chest. I didn’t know if I’d ever be rid of it. I might forgive myself one day, but I would never be able to forget the look of death on my sister’s bloodied and mangled face.
I had lost three years, tormenting myself. Atoning for a sin that wasn’t mine. Self-destructing because I thought I deserved it. Because I thought it was all my fault. But I wasn’t Fina’s killer. And once that realization dawned to me, it was like a whole burden had been lifted off my chest.
Time skip
My shoulders slumped and I felt… weightless. Jungkook and I sat like this for a long time, finding comfort in the silence. And in each other’s arms. I half-expected him to initiate sex, but when he didn’t, I found myself surprisingly relieved.
Because I wanted more than just something physical.
Atleast for tonight.
I wanted tenderness and intimacy.
“Do you still hate me?” I whispered, when I started to fall asleep. I blinked hard once then twice, forcing myself to say awake so I could hear his answer.
His fingers stroking down my bare arm paused. “Just like pain is subjective… hate is all grey areas, no black-and-white certainties.” His hand brushed over my breasts, cupping one heavy mound, before pinching my nipple. Hard. “I hate you but I crave you. I hate you but I need you.” As if to prove his words, he bucked his hips up, his hardness digging into the curve of my ass. “Hate is too simple a word to describe what we have, what I feel for you. It’s not hatred, Princess. It’s so much more. It’s chaos,” he rasped in my ear.