chapter three ;; folsom prison blues
jungkook's perspective
°☆.。.:*・°☆

Johnny Cash was one of his favorite singers. Matthew Healy quickly followed. Taehyung was something else, a pretty boy who you knew was truly fucked up but couldn't get enough of. Enough of staring, I mean. Once again, barely any words were exchanged, but I still got those same facts on coffee cups.

His phone number had been unused, not really seeming to affect him. Taehyung never reinforced me on calling or texting. He left the situation as is. The only reminder were paper cups now stacking up in my kitchen. I'd begun to collect them, realizing they may be important. Another problem of mine was a way to hide such cups once necessary, and that's why my pen dropped onto my journal, why I completely doubted everything from beginning to now.

I find my eyes swell up and pupils shrink down towards the cream toned paper in front of me. A streak runs across the page where I'd dropped my pen, and my hands tighten into fists. I sigh heavily. I can't tell if it's of panic or wishful thinking.

We'd been flirting. Me being me, I was blinded from it. Maybe the bleach for my fake dirty blonde hair was really taking an affect. There was practically a ring on my left ring finger for heaven's sake, but here I was, flirting with a rather breathtaking character who smelled of black coffee and cigarettes and musk and wood.

Nonetheless, I simply couldn't stop, finding myself to become addicted. Taehyung showed up with paint streaks littering across bare arms and fingertips. God, what a beautiful sight to see, and when brown orbs met mine in a deepened line of eye contact, that same guilt as before creeped into the back of my head, spreading more and more before snapping down and staring at beige journal pages. With white knuckles gripping onto a pen, the sound of White Doc Martens knowingly thudding across wooden floorboards was heard but stopped at a certain point, that point being my table for two, with only one holder.

That fact was about to change.

Taehyung reached his thin and extremely attractive hand out, almost at a painstakingly slow pace, he placed a large sized coffee cup onto my small table. He had a somewhat baggy sweatshirt on, showing off a blank pastel pink and rolled up sleeves. It was so different to what was expected, showing no tight curves as usual, yet still showcasing those same god blessed thighs in tight skinny jeans. A Saturn charm dangling off of a black chocker and black nail polish almost had me choking on my spit.

There was no stopping the older boy now, hand running along the back of a wooden chair slightly before silently pulling it out. Wooden legs screeched against wooden floors, creating an unpleasant sound to erupt out into a calm atmosphere and disrupt some people's focus, while slamming away on high-end laptops. Taehyung, on the other hand, had only a leather satchel, which was now being placed over the back of the chair placed in front of mine, before elegantly sitting down in one swift motion.

His eyes were met with my innocent ones, eyes widened and face slack, unlike the tanned skin displayed in front of me, who had a known, mischievous smirk dancing, "Hello," Taehyung lowly speaks, voice like delicious gravel, if that even makes sense. What a proper way to greet me, no 'hi' or 'hey', but a hello that ringed throughout my ears, echoing and swirling to my heart, making beats faster and faster.

"H-Hi," I mumble, eyes glancing towards the plainly perched and empty coffee cup before meeting well known brown once more. My nimble fingers reached up to my ears, taking out white earbuds and closing a moleskin journal notebook.

"You seem surprised to see me." Taehyung speaks again after a few moments of strained silence, noticing my worried eyes bouncing around.

"You've never sat down." I quickly respond, sounding so rushed and unsure, causing a mental face palm, but those doubts went away once a soft laugh was heard, sounding rich and deep, such a man.

"I guess you're right, but you seem almost scared. Do I come off as scary?" His eyebrows furrowed, but a joking tone never left. Almost everything that came from his mouth seemed to be a joke and shouldn't be taken seriously, a quality that I found interesting and drowning. Even a British accent would match such a perceived persona.

You come off as attractive, "Intimidating," is all that passes small lips, flickering my gaze back down before back up again.

"Ah, I see." Taehyung gets a look of thought for a second, leaving more silence to stay for only a short moment, once sweet words were reformed, with the flick of a tongue, "Aren't you going to read my note? I can't help but notice those big eyes of yours looking over at it."

"Now," I ask, hesitating to reach for it.

"Yes, now,"

"But you're still here."

Taehyung almost snorts at the comment, "It doesn't matter."

"A-Alright," my small yet callused hand reaches out, taking ahold of the cup that had a smooth texture, before turning it around. Scribbled characters show, eyes squinting slightly to read it better, "Folsom Prison Blues," I read aloud, not understanding the meaning and once again looking up for a better explanation.

"Favorite Johnny Cash song," Taehyung proudly smiles, showcasing straight and white teeth, "I don't care how popular it may be. It's that way for a reason. Although, Cry, Cry, Cry and I Got Stripes do follow close. Ah, too many good ones to count, but that was my first and shall always be my favorite."

"I see," my mouth mumbles out without comprehension. A reflex had begun out of habit, open the front, flip to the pages, find the one, take the writing utensil, write the fact, close the book, put cup next to chair. Taehyung watched with a mute mouth, arms crossed and lips parted. Those lips looked warm, irresistible, and I mentally groaned as his tongue poked out to wet a bottom lip.

You're in a relationship.

Once again, my eyes snap back down in a heap of defeat and fear. There was no right in my will to hold these thoughts, to hold these feelings. A man already loved me, already cared for me, and here I was, being selfish and downright disloyal. But god, those piercing eyes and deep stares had me going almost insane.

"Are you alright?" Taehyung asks, head tilting to the side but arms still crossed and posture slumped down. He looked natural.

"I'm fine." My words were sharpened, almost snapping, causing another pair of eyes to look away for what felt like the longest time, and my mind begged for them to come back, begged for them to study my face like I'd been doing the same, but they remained at the ceiling, tracing wooden patterns instead of the real person in front of him. It felt as if the chair was as empty as always. Those were the thoughts that had me fearing the most.

Taehyung lets out a soft sight, sitting forward and focusing on me once more, staring for long seconds. The clock kept ticking, but the hands were slowed, taking their own precious time, just like the twenty-five year old in front of me was taking his time to think. He was thinking deeply, face almost blank yet ever so slightly concentrated, "You're not a natural blonde."

I almost laughed at the straightforward comment, like we had been on the subject of my hair for the longest time, "N-No, I'm not." A small smile broke open, displaying large teeth and faint smile lines, almost feeling foreign, "I don't think anyone in South Korea really is."

"Good point, uh...hm-"

"Jungkook," I say. It came out a bit too strong, noticing Taehyung's small smirk showing and trying to be hidden at best, "...Jeon...Jungkook," words came out slower this time, tapering off into a another short quiet.

"Good point, Jeon Jungkook," He says in a smooth tone, turning his body to get the famous leather satchel, "but it appears that I have to go." There was no way for me to deny the saddened feeling casted over my stupid brain, which couldn't stop facing facts, "At least we could end on a good note." He continues while standing up, wrapping the strap around his body and looking down at me, "I mean, I know your name now." Taehyung began to walk away, stopping mid-step. There was a split second in something of contemplating, steps beginning once again but going backwards now, back towards me, "Don't forget to call me. I know you have my number in that little journal of yours."

"Right..." I breathe out, eyes casting down once hearing the familiar sound restarting, a glass door finally opening and closing.

Light the cigarette, smoke the it to the very last drag, drop and stomp out, get in a sleek car, start the engine, and drive away.

That after-coffee-shop routine never fumbled or changed, and Taehyung's black, 1967 Chevy Impala drives out of the small parking lot. Only if he knew that my ride was the navy blue bike out in the front, with a metal basket containing daisies.

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lame