Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. With no eye than that of envy, I espied from Jungkook and Nayeon's relationship, presuming upon my incompetent understanding, that it was a binding of souls to squander away the objects which made happiness for both of them at no sacrifice at all. To be attached to another human being, to love the little couplet we belong to in relation to society, is the first principle of public affections-- of course. It is the first link by which they proceed toward a love to each respective disposition. The interest of that portion of social arrangement is a trust in the hands of both who compose it; and as none but the bad ones would justify it in abuse, none but past lovers would barter it away for their own personal use.
'What are you sorry for?' she asked.
He leaned against the wall limply, drained of his strength at her touch.
'Jungkook. My dear,' she said. She pulled his drooping face down to her lips and kissed him. 'My sweet, my love, don't look like that.'
All his resistance melted from him.
She saw his hand, wrapped in its bloody bandage: she nursed it gently with soft little cries of tenderness and a white paper towel dabbed in iodine. He felt her earnestness beneath her awkward coddling. He struggled in a chaos of ambivalence, trying for silence.
She seized his hand almost gratefully and laid her white face, still twisted with make-up, against his shoulder. It was the gesture of a child: a gesture that asked for love, pity, and tenderness. It tore up great roots in him, bloodily.
'What are you sorry for?' she asked.
He leaned against the wall limply, drained of his strength at her touch.
'Jungkook. My dear,' she said. She pulled his drooping face down to her lips and kissed him. 'My sweet, my love, don't look like that.'
All his resistance melted from him.
She saw his hand, wrapped in its bloody bandage: she nursed it gently with soft little cries of tenderness and a white paper towel dabbed in iodine. He felt her earnestness beneath her awkward coddling. He struggled in a chaos of ambivalence, trying for silence.
She seized his hand almost gratefully and laid her white face, still twisted with make-up, against his shoulder. It was the gesture of a child: a gesture that asked for love, pity, and tenderness. It tore up great roots in him, bloodily.