But this was Seulgi and she wouldn’t let him have his way, never would, sliding her foot against his thigh. He scoffed in jest, brought his eyes down to her feet, wanting nothing more than to push them off, relieve himself of the heat building in his legs, “And whose fault would that be if I did?”
High school had been the beginning of the end for Seulgi. Or more specifically, her second year had been. Moving to Daegu, uprooting her life so her mother could follow the bastard that abandoned them in some kind of pathetic desperation, some miserable and misplaced plea for affection? It had jaded the young girl, turned her harsh and cold- Yoongi had tempered this for awhile, to the best of his ability, unconsciously. But graduation and the promise of a return to Hongdae, to Seoul, to home, to freedom? Of course she had taken it. For her sake and for his. Could she have handled it better? Yes. She could have not burned every bridge possible,s he could have not gotten hammered and fucked his best friend, she could have not snapchatted the evidence to him "by accident" from his best friends phone, she could have broken up with him quietly and told him she was moving. But she hadn't done any of those things- she had burned bridges and salted the earth behind her, afraid of what he was doing to her, afraid of how badly she ached at the thought of leaving him.
She'd done her best not to think of it since then, drowning herself in booze and swallowing down pills and burying herself in the hedonism of youth. When karma deposited him on her doorstep, she found herself torn. Torn between the desire to apologize and the desire for control - he'd robbed her of the latter, and she wanted to exert it over him again, wanted to reassure herself she didn't need him, didn't want him, that he had no affect on her, that she could manipulate or twist or destroy him if she had too. It was simple self defense, after all. but he was so callously disinterested, so casually blase that it drove her crazy, left her sliding her foot against his thigh watched the drop of his hand, the fidget of his fingers. "The melancholy look on your bitchass face said it for you," she informed him on a callous drawl, brow arching as she watched him drawl smug, her own lips pulling sly when he scoffed. "What a good question." she murmured, the words nearly a purr as she set her bottle aside, leaned forward towards him, a finger sliding beneath the line of his jaw to turn his gaze towards her. "I wonder, whose fault is it, huh Yoongi? Why don't you tell me." she drawled, the words sounding like a promise, a challenge, an invitation, dark eyes burning into his. As she spoke she shifted, an abrupt and graceful movement that brought her settling over his lap, knees pressed to the cushions of the couch on either side of his hips, warm between pale thighs as she settled in place against him, arms draping artfully over his shoulders. "Who fucked you up so bad? You wanna talk about your poor little feelings? Or do you wanna man up." she drawled snide, lips brushing his as she spoke, the tip of her nose grazing his cheek, some sick and twisted motive to counter their closeness with cruelty.
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