"No good writing
flows from a polluted well."
— John Geddes

Jungkook POV

We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; it's common for almost everyone to go through the phase of fearing darkness. The idea of monsters, ghosts, and villains lurking in the unknown as you lay awake with wide eyes and shaking hands.

It didn't take long for me to outgrow that fear. I find comfort in darkness. Those monsters that everyone fears, I recognized them to be living inside me, and recognition has only made them my pets. I'm aware where they lurk, and they know I'm watching, feeling everything they do inside my head and urging me further into the darkness of my own mind. What was once a fear has turned into common acceptance. I am no longer afraid.

Some of the books I read, like the one in my lap, are sometimes amusing. The main characters constantly chasing bad decisions and then wondering where they went wrong as if anyone was really that unintelligent. The entirety of these cliche stories and predictable endings left a bad taste in my mouth and the book was back on the shelf in seconds. It must be human nature, something those authors can capture so accurately. No matter how obvious a solution is, humans will always be impulsive and overrun with selfishness; never doing what's right and always making mistakes that the readers can't help but become frustrated over. Of course the girl is going to go to that party and of course her boyfriend is at the same one and of course she's going to walk into the exact room that he is currently fucking some stranger in. Of course he's an orphan and of course his dog dies and he has trouble in school.

Everyone can jump on the chance to put their characters through hell and have some sad background to make a good story, but no one ever wants to dig deeper. No one wants to write about the reason why. Why does the little boy have trouble in school and trouble talking to new people. Why does she feel the need to harm herself first before anyone else even gets the chance.

It's a contradiction, that I find myself in. My love for stories and novels, deep and genuine proven through late hours finishing off entire series and months collecting those special ones bound in leather. This love walks hand in hand with hate, a hate for the cliche plots and misuse of mental illness or real problems, all thrown in because it makes a good story.

It's a contradiction, that I stuck myself in. This love and hate prevents me from ever finding the words for my own story. The pen never meeting paper in the ways I wish because my mind in polluted with this darkness that only allows for polluted thoughts to flow.

But I've recognized this. I've accepted it and don't dwell or stress on my inabilities. Instead, I continue to read and find stories worth telling. He always listens. I know it must bother him at some times, the late night calls around 3 am when the last sentence runs through my mind and my fingers run over my cell phone screen to dial his number. He sits and listens, he always listens.

And he always knows where to find me. That's why it didn't surprise me when he walked in moments after I left the disappointing book on the shelf. Blonde hair bouncing and lips stretched in a grin, my friend came walking over in short strides, "Isn't it boring reading the same books over and over, Jungkookie?" Jimin smiled with open arms, always expecting a hug as a form of greeting.

"Its an experience, you should try it sometime." I said, knowing he wouldn't anyways. We were both busy with dance and kissing ass of various instructors hoping to have our own studio one day. With the little free time we have Jimin definitely won't be picking up any books when he could be picking up guys instead.

It looked like he was about to speak until his name was shouted, the man behind the counter holding up two drinks. I sat back down on the small sofa in the dim corner of the bookstore. It was a small shop with a cafe on side and dusty bookshelves on the other. Not many people came here but those that did usually sauntered in following the scent of coffee and pastries. I always liked it here because of the quietness and rows of novels. The small sofa was never occupied by anyone but myself in the corner, lights always dimmed down low and quiet jazz music playing softly. It was an ideal space.

"Hey listen, I wanted to talk to you about something." Jimin said as he returned with the two drinks, handing one to me. Just by the color I knew he got me the tea I liked, it was tinted a dark red color and the raspberry flavor danced on my tongue. I hummed softly in acknowledgment and I sipped the drink, eyes scanning the shelf for anything stealing my interest. The worn down paperbacks almost seemed sad, cracked spines and yellow pages from years of disrespectful handlers without a care for literature.

The grimace on my face noticed by any stranger would think it was from my drink.

"I want you to go out with me." Jimin continued, casually sitting down on the couch in my place and looking through the stacks of books on the small table I gathered in the last hour. "And not like that, you're not my type."

"And what is your type, Jimin?" I throw back with a quick glance over my shoulder at the older boy.

There was a quiet chuckle, but quiet for Jimin was still quite loud, overpowering the soothing jazz reaching my ears. But as nice as the music is, Jimin's laugh was better. "That is not what we're talking about right now, don't change the subject." he said.

These books were not creating sparks, only bland titles and a boring synopsis not worth the time. I sat back down on the sofa and looked over at Jimin who had pulled over a chair, the cushions on the seat were a dark red. "I want you to meet my friends already."

"I've met Yoongi hyung." I interrupted, taking another sip of the drink. Raspberry invaded my veins turning them to ice in the best way possible. "We get along great."

Jimin rolled his eyes and set his own drink down on the short table. I reached forward and placed a coaster underneath. "You guys only get along because you sit in silence all day listening to music or watching disney films."

I shrug and lean back into the cushions, the softness felt good against my aching back muscles and sore shoulders. Yoongi hyung and I met a couple months ago when I was at Jimin's apartment. Naturally you become familiar with someone that always spends the night and sleeps with your best friend. "I'm not in the mood to go out." I said, which was true. I'd rather stay home instead of going out to a loud place with loud people and just end up with a headache.

"We only ever go when you want to." Jimin pouted. Sometimes it's hard to believe that he's the older one between the two of us. "Please? I really want to spend time with you and my friends, it would mean a lot." he was guilt tripping me, trying to make me feel bad for always avoiding whoever he associates himself with. And I do, feel bad.

I could feel it now. The nag at the back of my mind urging me to go and begging for that release. My index finger twitched around my plastic cup and I tightened my grip around the drink, teeth sinking into my bottom lip as the thoughts came quick. I needed to get home.

"Okay fine, text me later." I caved in to his bright eyes and pouting lips. Frustration was the only things I felt, especially when his frown turned into a smug grin.

"Sure, I'll let you know what time–" Jimin was cut off by someone calling his name, this time it wasn't the man working behind the counter.

"Jimin!" the stranger shouted, and I couldn't help but flinch at the loud sound. Why do people feel the need to be so obnoxious?

My friend spun around in his chair to see who it was, the lack of surprise on his face showed that he was expecting this person to show up. "Jimin.." I said a lot more quietly than the newcomer.

He ignored me and stood up to greet whoever it was. I held my drink in my hands, elbows on my knees and eyes trained on the dark hardwood floors. I didn't need to look up to know that Jimin was hugging the man. Any kind of desire to stay in this bookstore had evaporated and I silently stood, slipping my phone in my pocket and plugging one headphone into my ear. I didn't feel like sitting here while they chatted casually and acted all friendly.

Everyone makes mistakes, the only variant is how many you decide to make in a day. My first mistake was looking up and making eye contact with Jimin's friend. His eyes were a deep, earthy brown — the color of earth after a heavy rainstorm. But there was something else. A faint glisten of amusement and darkness, and a kind of depth that seemed to hold the heaviness of untold stories. When they met my own pale brown eyes his smile turned more into a grin. "Who's thick thighs, here?"

The trance I was in broke and I raised my eyebrows, "Thick? Excuse me—"

Jimin jumped in cutting me off from saying anything rude, but that didn't stop the string of words in my brain. "This is my friend Jungkook, I told you I wanted you guys to meet. Taehyung, Jungkook. Jungkook, Taehyung." he introduced with a bright grin.

I nodded and grunted something that was suppose to resemble a greeting, all while grabbing my bag and throwing the black strap over my shoulder, the smooth leather hitting the side of my thigh.

"Ahh," Taehyung breathed, "He's the friend who does all that reading and shit."

There was a muffled thump as Jimin punched the other guy in the arm, "There's nothing wrong with reading." Jimin spoke through gritted teeth as he smiled, sending a glare towards his buddy that wasn't as sharp as mine thrown in the same direction.

Clenching my jaw I restrained myself from saying anything in response, simply walking around the small coffee table with my drink in hand, "See you later Jimin."

There was a light scoff and I already knew who it was from, but my back was already turned and my feet carried me to the door in long, steady strides. "Bye Jungkook!" Taehyung called.

I flinched, grabbing the other headphone that bumped against my stomach with each step and easily slipped it into my ears, immersing myself in smooth hip-hop beats. Soon my breathing calmed along with the rhythm and I could forget about everything until later, all my problems shoved to the back of my mind until all they were was a faint buzzing, like monsters quietly talking in hushed whispers.

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I just love taekook
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