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Who knew the kitchen floor can be so comfortable?

You roll around the cold tiles colliding with bottles of grapefruit-flavored soju along the way. Catching one before it escapes with the rest, you bring it up to your mouth and tilt it as far back as it can go. When nothing comes out, you push it away in disgust. It clatters towards the sofa, the one place in your apartment you've been trying to avoid.

That ugly grey thing. You should burn it!

Except that it belongs to your landlord, so you can't do with it as you wish. Even if its mere presence provokes you, you're powerless to do anything against it.

You useless fool!

If you see yourself the way I see you, you'll realize just how beautiful and special you are, his voice taunts you with its deceptive sweetness.

For the millionth time that week, misery floods you causing your eyes to well with tears.

"Damn Jeon Jungkook," you say. "I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!"

It's okay, noona. I like you a lot.

"Like me, my foot," you spit out. "I don't like you at all!"

As if to mock the falsehood of your words, the night you saw him last replays in your mind, putting together a montage of everything you love about him. His big, shiny eyes. The tiny scar on his check that wiggles with his easy grins. The mole beneath his lip you never got the chance to kiss. How his voice softens whenever he calls your name. All these make up a poignantly beautiful movie you can't bear to watch because doing so hurts too much.

In the past, you find it amusing when people talk about heartbreak. Dramatic even. To what extent can a non-existent injury be debilitating? Nothing, except pride, gets hurt.

Now you realize, it doesn't matter if the organ itself doesn't get slashed to pieces. It has nothing to do with pride, either. When a heart breaks for real, it's that fragile sense of self-worth, so carefully nurtured, that shatters. The pain stems from the realization that despite all the things he claims to like about you, all the beautiful memories, and shared secrets, none are enough to make him stay. Like a novel piece of bric-a-brac at an antique shop, you catch his eye for a fleeting moment. Yet, upon closer inspection, he puts you back on the shelf --- unworthy and to be soon forgotten.

Pressing your knuckles against your lids, you whimper in drunken misery.

"Fuck!"

When will this end?

When that thing with Namjoon happened, it took you at least a month to get yourself together. Compared to what you're feeling now, that experience is nothing but a pinprick. Will it then take a whole lifetime to move on from Jeon Jungkook?

Your doorbell pulls you out of the pool of self-pity you've been wallowing in with its incessant ringing.

"Wait, please," you shout, your voice hoarse from a combination of mindless crying and excessive alcohol.

Pushing yourself up from the floor, you force your unsteady legs to hold your body up. The world around you spins, while the meager contents of your stomach slushes about. You regurgitate air, but manage not to throw up.

The bell rings again.

"Coming!"

Whoever is behind that door is too damn impatient. Is that the chicken delivery guy? Must be. You remember buying something on your phone to eat with the soju, but you started drinking while waiting and managed to finish all the bottles while at it. It took them long enough to arrive. Will it kill them to wait for a little?

The person must have heard you because the high-pitched melody stops. Groaning, you criss-cross towards the entrance. Along the way, you bump against the shoe rack causing a few pairs to tumble down. Your foot snags on a sandal and you stumble. Luckily, the door is close enough to catch your fall. Your palms bang against it when you brace yourself.

A guy's muffled voice trickles through the gaps in the wood. However, your brain isn't functioning enough to piece together what he's trying to say. If you have to guess, it's probably something along the lines of, "Hurry up and get your damn chicken!"

After trying to get your brain and your limbs to coordinate, you manage to twist the doorknob and unlock the door. You jerk it open overestimating the amount of force needed to do so. It causes your feet to tangle and you lose your balance again. Good thing chicken guy reacts swiftly. He pulls you to his chest and keeps you steady. In the process, something crinkly drops on the floor.

"That better not be my chicken," you slur against the soft fabric of his sweater. "Or you're--you're dead!"

"Noona!"

"Who are you calling Noona?"

Instead of replying, chicken guy half-drags and half-carries you into your home. When you hear the lock click, it triggers your rusty survival instincts. Kicking and pounding, you try to break free.

"Mister, please," you wail. "I'm a 29-year old virgin. I'm as dry as an overcooked chicken breast! You don't want me. No one wants me!"

"Noona, calm down! It's me."

Something else drops and the savory, garlicky scent of freshly fried chicken permeates through the room. You gasp, intensifying your struggles, "Omo, my chicken. Let me go! Let me save my chicken!"

Your sole smacks against his shin. Behind you, he groans and all at once, you're free-falling. You cry out in pain as your knees hit the hard surface.

"Y/N-Noona!"

He crouches next to you and engulfs you in his arms.

"It hurts," you say, sniffling. "It really, really hurts."

"I'm so sorry, noona. I'm really sorry."

His lips brush against your temples.

You bury your nose against his neck.

Ocean and tangerines.

Tears stream down your face in earnest.

Like puzzle pieces, your body fits snugly against his. If the two of you aren't meant to be, then how can this feel so perfect?

"Jungkook-ah..." You land feeble punches on his chest. "You're a bad guy! You're so, so bad!"

His grip around your waist tightens. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I hate you so, so much," you say.

Nevertheless, your hands fist against the back of his shirt. A passing thought that all this is just an alcohol-induced illusion terrifies you. You never want him to disappear.

Not now.

Not ever.

You bring your hands up to cup his face. Finally, you let yourself drown in the depths of his molten chocolate gaze. "But at the same time--" fingers trembling, you trace his lower lip, "I don't know how to stop loving you. It's... it's impossible."

"Then don't ever stop," he whispers.

With one hand, he captures your wrist. With the other, he tilts your chin up. 

"Don't ever stop," he says again, eyes glistening. 

Somewhere in the distance, a clock ticks to the rhythm of your shared breaths.

His face draws closer until it blurs.

Your eyes flutter shut.

Every sound in the room heightens and merges into an indistinguishable mass.

A feather-light caress descends upon the tip of your nose.

You mewl in protest wanting more.

He rewards you with kisses on your eyelids and the apples of your cheeks and ends by resting his forehead against yours. "I love you so much, noona," he says. "P-please don't hate me. I...I can't stand it."

"Then don't ever leave me." Once again, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your chin against the crook of his neck. "Never ever leave me."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

He nods. "I promise."

Satisfied with his answer, you let the full weight of your body droop against his. Countless sleepless nights and the soju in your system dragging you down. "Let's go to sleep, Jungkookie." You yawn, still clinging to him in spite of it all. "And tomorrow, when we wake up, we'll eat chicken."

Jungkook laughs, his chest vibrating against yours. "Yes, noona, we'll eat chicken."

"Good." You smile. "I love you, Jungkookie."

"I love you, too, Noona."

Little by little, your consciousness fades away. Hoping against hope, you wish that unlike yesterday and the day before that, all this isn't a dream. Because if it is, you don't ever want to wake up.

Not if you don't have him back. 

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A/N: I didn't want to be late with my update so I'm breaking the last chapter into two. That means there's something more to look forward to, right? 

What do you think? Is noona dreaming? 

If she's not, then do you think she'll sing a different tune once sober?