That night, I sat at my desk, journal open, pen tapping against the page.
I wasn't the type to write poetry or confess feelings. But my thoughts needed somewhere to go before they exploded.
Entry: Subject – Kim Taehyung
Diagnosis – Chronic Disruptor of Peace of Mind
> Symptoms include: – Delusions of charm
– Excessive proximity
– Compulsive smirking
– Highly contagious narcissism
I underlined that last part twice.
Why did he always get under my skin? I'd dealt with worse. Way worse. Arrogant people. Overconfident men. Manipulators.
But him?
He was intentional.
Every glance. Every step closer. Every word designed to see if I'd crack.
And the worst part?
I hadn't. Not completely.
But I was close.
Too close.
I flipped to a fresh page. Wrote:
> He touched my hair today. Just brushed it back like it was normal.
It wasn't.
It didn't feel normal.
It felt like—
I scratched the whole line out.
Hard.
No.
I closed the journal and shoved it in my drawer like it could hear my thoughts.
But the silence in my room made it louder.
---
I picked up my phone, opened a voice memo app. Hit record.
"Patient notes. Female. Early twenties. Psychology student. Presents with signs of acute frustration caused by a male trigger."
I paused.
"Symptoms include insomnia, increased heart rate when exposed to tall figures in black, and compulsive sarcasm as a defense mechanism."
I sighed. "Recommended treatment: avoidance."
Another pause.
"…unlikely to work."
I deleted the recording.
Of course.
Then, as if summoned by my own inability to shut him out—
Ping.
A text.
Unknown Number
Still not over that missed office hour. You owe me. Tomorrow. Same time.
Also. You looked cute annoyed today. Just thought you should know. :)
I stared at the screen.
Didn't reply.
Didn't block him either.
---