i want your love

1

edited: 4/01/25

The 18-year-old boy slid the key into the door’s keyhole and twisted it. He heard a click, a satisfying sound that meant his dorm door was finally open. Stepping inside, his eyes instinctively shifted to the clock on the wall of the living room. It was 10:45 PM. A soft sigh escaped him as he dropped his phone onto his study table, then made his way straight to the bathroom to wash off the exhaustion of the day.

Turning on the tap, he watched the bathtub slowly fill with warm water. As he waited, he turned to the mirror above the sink and caught sight of his reflection. His black hair, messy and falling in his face, barely allowed him to see. His gaze dropped to his swollen lips, still bleeding from a recent encounter.

Earlier that day, while he was working his part-time job at a department store, a man had approached him, asking about a product. It was obvious the guy had been drinking—his breath reeked of alcohol. When the boy told him they didn’t have the product the man wanted, the drunkard slapped him across the face, leaving him with busted lips and a swollen cheek. Thankfully, other staff and some customers stepped in before the man could do any more damage.

Shaking off the memory, the boy glanced back at the bathtub, now almost full. He stripped off his clothes and slid into the warm water, closing his eyes and letting the heat seep into his muscles. For a moment, he just sat there, soaking in the warmth, but before long, a single tear escaped, rolling down his cheek.

He was used to this feeling by now. But it never failed to confuse him—why did it still hurt?

The boy’s breathing grew heavy as sobs took over, his chest tightening with the weight of it all. He considered letting the water swallow him, but something inside him—a small spark of something—stopped him. He pulled himself out of the tub and sat on the edge, his head resting against the cool ceramic. He stared at the ceiling for a while, lost in thought, before finally standing up. He grabbed a fluffy robe and wrapped it around his broad shoulders, trying to feel some comfort.

He pulled on a pair of joggers, the fabric soft against his skin, and sighed deeply.

The boy sighed deeply as he collapsed onto his single bed, staring at the ceiling. The exhaustion from the day finally took over, and he closed his eyes, letting sleep wash over him.

Life is beautiful, but the world is cruel.



***

The black-haired boy groggily woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside his window, mixed with the annoying blare of his alarm ringing. He groaned, burying his face in the pillow and reaching out a hand, blindly groping around the bedside table in a desperate attempt to stop the noise. But then, his brain finally caught up, and he realized his phone was on his study table. No wonder the sound was so distant.

With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his eyes and dragged himself out of bed. His body felt like it was made of lead, but he knew he had to get up. After a few moments of barely-conscious stumbling, he walked over to his study table and turned off the alarm. Then, he shuffled to the bathroom, still half asleep, to get ready for school.

It wasn’t that the boy hated school or was bad at it—quite the opposite. He was in his final year of high school, one of the top students, and his teachers adored him. But, like most students, he wasn’t always excited to jump out of bed and into the grind.

After finishing in the bathroom, the boy changed into his school uniform, looking as neat as ever despite the grogginess that still clung to him. He headed to the kitchen to grab something quick for breakfast—cereal, since he didn’t feel like cooking. Once he’d finished eating, he grabbed his bag and headed out the door. His school was just a 20-minute walk from his dorm, so he didn’t mind the short walk.

As he was busy pulling out the books he needed for class, he heard the familiar squeals of excitement—girls and boys gossiping and laughing. Classic high school drama. He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what was going on, and focused on getting his stuff ready.

With everything packed, he closed his locker and turned around, only to find a silver-haired boy standing right in front of him, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Kim?" Jungkook said, his tone cool, clearly not in the mood for whatever Taehyung had to offer today.

"Come on, why are you being so rude, Jeon?" Taehyung pouted, his usual mischievous grin creeping onto his face.

"First of all, I’m not being rude. And second, why are you calling me Jeon?" Jungkook shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, for your information, you were the one who called me by my first name first," Taehyung said, grinning as he leaned in a little closer. "And honestly, I just like calling you Jeon." He winked for emphasis.

Jungkook let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, whatever. Let’s just go, Taehyung. If we don’t leave now, we’re gonna be late for class."

Taehyung chuckled as Jungkook grabbed his hand, pulling him toward their homeroom.

"I cringed," Jungkook suddenly muttered, looking down at his best friend, who was a little shorter than him. Taehyung looked at him with a confused expression.

"I mean, when you walk into a room, I don't get why everyone squeals like they just saw a celebrity. It feels like I’m stuck watching one of those trashy high school K-dramas." Jungkook scrunched his face in disgust, making a few exaggerated gagging motions as they walked down the hallway.

Taehyung flipped his hair dramatically, a smug look on his face. "It’s because I’ve got the looks, compared to you. And also, I’m the son of a famous CEO."

Jungkook snorted. "I’ll agree with the second part, but... the first? Doubt it."

Taehyung gasped, eyes wide in mock shock. "You mean I’m ugly?"

"You said it, not me!" Jungkook giggled, enjoying the banter.

"No, no, no! I didn’t say that. I asked you if I’m ugly," Taehyung responded innocently, grinning mischievously.

Jungkook laughed even harder. "See, you said it again! ‘I’m ugly’!"

Taehyung stopped dead in his tracks, his face going dramatic as he stomped his foot like a child. "You know what? That’s it! I’m divorcing you! I’m finding a new best friend!" he said, his voice exaggerated for effect as he ignored Jungkook and marched off toward their classroom.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed, muttering under his breath, "God, my best friend’s a drama queen," before jogging to catch up with him.