dancing in this world alone - vmon

v.

he sees it at 3 a.m., when taehyung and his little sister come knocking at his door and — "i'm sorry," he says, because he's always sorry.

(and it hurts, because what doesn't hurt when it comes to him? but it hurts, seeing someone with potential to be big end up so small)

"i'm so sorry," he says again, and his little sister echoes it, her voice as soft as a shy child's, as hoarse as a woman who screamed her soul out. "your phone is off and it's so late, i didn't know where—"

namjoon lets them in. he doesn't let taehyung apologise again.

taehyung's sister doesn't need to be asked twice to stay in namjoon's room, but she does ask namjoon twice and thrice and four times to look after her brother. "i heard bone break," she says. "he says he's fine but i swear i heard bone break."

taehyung's fine, and he's still fine a couple hours later. his sister is asleep in namjoon's bed. taehyung's wide awake in namjoon's arms. he says he's fine. namjoon doesn't press. instead, he offers a late night ride, and taehyung says yes, and then they're in the car, driving on the highway —

and it's silent, but it's loud. it's the air flowing through the four open windows, the wheels grinding against the asphalt. it's the thoughts, the screaming thoughts — what happened? and will she be fine, alone? and taehyung, taehyung, taehyung,

then taehyung turns on the radio, and it becomes louder. then taehyung turns it off, and it's still loud. then taehyung sings a different song, and it suddenly becomes quiet again. background noises, faded and weak in comparison to taehyung's voice —

and namjoon sees it. he sees freedom.

then he sees it again; the potential.

he sees it in taehyung's voice, as he stares into the empty horizon, the streetlights passing by begging for a glance. taehyung sounds like he's begging for a glance — so namjoon gives him a glance, and prays that the world will someday give him a chance.

(in another world, taehyung has a chance.)

it's beautiful, his voice. it's the intervals between the streetlights, it's the purple-orange shades in the horizon. taehyung sings, and it's a song namjoon can't recognise.

"you're my best friend and we're dancing in a world alone," taehyung sings, and namjoon can feel the weigh of his stare — he aches to give him another glance —

but then taehyung sings, and namjoon knows that it's not the right verse. "we've both got a million bad habits to kick, not sleeping is one. we're biting our nails, you're biting my lip.."

namjoon refuses to give him a glance. namjoon refuses to give himself a chance. taehyung goes on. ".. i'm biting my tongue."

it's beautiful, his voice. namjoon can taste the pain, and can tell that the raspiness and hoarseness isn't an artistic choice. it hurts when he says, "we should go back."

(he almost says, home. he almost says, we should go back home.)

"yeah," taehyung breathes, then starts singing a different song.

(in a different world, taehyung has a chance. in a different world, taehyung sings his soul out, and namjoon knows his voice sounds more beautiful when his ribs aren't bruised, or when his throat isn't scratched.)