He yielded weakly to her invalidism towards his dynamism, he became tyrannous of her attention, jealous of her service. Her indifference to his energy maddened him, created a morbid hunger for angst and tears. At times he got insanely drunk because of her and tried to frighten her by throwing up his guts in front of her, one time so successfully that Nayeon, bending over his rigid body over the toilet, was whitened with conviction-- with the conviction that he will always love her.
'I can't feel your pulse, Jungkook,' Nayeon said, with a nervous whicker of her lips.
'Well,' he said, picking up his breath with deliberate choosiness, 'I just need to get it all out-- that's all.'
Love appeared to Jungkook then to be the result of profound reflection, or rather the happy effect of following nature, which is wisdom without reflection, and above it. It was his second time around with her. People will not look forward to posterity, who never look backward to their beginnings-- and so there he was with Nayeon.
'I can't feel your pulse, Jungkook,' Nayeon said, with a nervous whicker of her lips.
'Well,' he said, picking up his breath with deliberate choosiness, 'I just need to get it all out-- that's all.'
Love appeared to Jungkook then to be the result of profound reflection, or rather the happy effect of following nature, which is wisdom without reflection, and above it. It was his second time around with her. People will not look forward to posterity, who never look backward to their beginnings-- and so there he was with Nayeon.
Last edited:
