(Jungkook POV)

___

I thought and thought, the marble of explanations rolling across the floor of my head, kinetic friction pushing my loneliness to its end.

 In three days, sadness had subsided into a ball of anger and resentment, as my formulated answers became more clear.

He was right -- we wouldn't have lasted anyway. With less than four months marking the end of the semester, he would be gone.

And I would still be here, wandering from class to class, fears piling in my head as to when he'd deliver the farewell text or worse, no text at all.

I couldn't ever help him heal --- he was too fucked up on his own.

I'm not selfish, I told myself. 

I'm not selfish for realizing that his sadness was beyond my control, that as much as I'd try to help him with it, it would only make mine worse for his could never get better.

The microwave beeped for the nth time downstairs, screaming to have its content be taken out, the meal cooling inside the chamber.

And it continued to beep, and beep.

___