Taekook Oneshots

The Things That Matter

(potential tw: existentialism, anger, depression-style tiredness, i guess you'd call it lack of care/giving up a little. also this is like really short and unfinished but i have no idea how to continue it so just have it as it is ig, i think it's from kook's pov i wrote it ages ago)

It always happens the same way. And at this point, I'm tired, tired to the point that I don't care. I don't care enough to fight it, don't care enough to scream and shout and punch and insult. My brain has gone past the confusion, disappointment, frustration, and anger, into sheer indifference. Sometimes I almost think it's funny, before I correct myself and remind myself that it's not okay. Before I remind myself that nobody should have to deal with bullshit like that. 

Indifference is a funny thing, though. You think you care, still, until things break apart again and you don't even bother to stitch them back together. I almost think it's good to fuck everything up, mess it all up until it's unfamiliar and new, just for the sake of having something different to see. 

But I don't know if I can be bothered for that, to be honest. I've gone past that level of laziness at this point. 

It's a funny kind of tiredness, where your entire body just feels like it doesn't exist, when your head's trying to float high above you, like a helium balloon held down by the weights of the shoulders. When everything feels a little distant, and you wonder if you're dreaming because nothing makes sense anymore and it all feels like it's happened before. 

The last time I thought about this, I was furious. The time before that, heartbroken. Third time lucky, and I just don't give a shit. I almost wish I did, just for a change of scenery, just for an excuse to bust up this place. But I don't. And now I'm wondering if apathy is a better emotion than fury. It doesn't feel good, but neither does the aftermath of the anger and the aggression. 

You can't really win, no matter what you do, and I kind of hate that. In a weird way. 

When the energy starts to fade, and the words come slowly, the reactions drain away, and you're stuck there exhausted wondering when you were drained, remember that you don't owe them anything. 

That's what he always says. He always says I need to remember that I come first, he says I have to think about myself and them second. When my eyes glaze over, he always knows what to say to bring me into a vague sense of sanity once more, though I don't know how he does it. He switches up his method each time, becomes unpredictable, and I like that about him for some reason. I love him for it, the way he always knows how to be, how to act in order to remind me of my own humanity. 

Predictability is what brought us into this mess in the first place, I suppose. 

But then again, I don't need an explanation. If it works, it works, and I can't forget that. If the world spins a little on its axis, and we figure out something new because of it, I'm alright with that. If he says something that switches my brain on again, if he finds the right button to press to make me remember to eat and focus on something other than the loud silence in my head, then I'm cool with that. 

I don't expect him to always get it right, because nobody can. Nobody's that incredible at this kind of thing. Nobody's telepathic. I don't expect him to be, either. I think it's important to accept that, at some point, and let people be who they are without telling them they're not good enough. Without shouting and screaming in their faces, begging them to fit some shitty mould that some politician decided fitted their outlook. 

Of course, my anger does have a target, when it comes, when it begins to grow deep within like a developing tempest. When it begins to turn and twist my insides, forcing me to act like someone I'm not. Of course I want to punch things sometimes, get that aggression out, and sometimes that's just a part and parcel of life. 

I don't hurt him. Fuck, I could never do anything to hurt him, or anyone else. I wouldn't, no matter how blind and bloody my rage. He means the world to me. I'll happily slap a bitch in self defence, but I'm not a monster. I'm not the kind of person who lashes out at those they love in that way. I shout sometimes, I won't deny that. I fuck it up sometimes. But I would never turn my anger on him in a physical way, and if I find myself shouting at him, I just end up feeling like shit. I just end up apologising. But I'm working on it. 

If I need to vent, I've got my own way out, one that doesn't hurt anyone I care about or make them feel like shit, one that doesn't cause too much harm to me either because he always tells me that it's important to avoid that. He tells me to look after myself. Because he's a good person like that. 

He always has been. 

But I have my exercise, my cardio, to let all of that energy go. I can shadow box like the best of them, and it's probably going to come in handy one day because I'll find myself in some violent situation able to smack a bitch to make them behave. And maybe that's weird, maybe that says something about me. I don't know. But it certainly means I'm useful if I need to protect my man. 

He's beautiful. Dark brown hair, the most expressive eyes you've ever seen, the sweetest smile. His voice is lower than the seafloor, and can sound smoother than honey or husky and gravelly, depending on his mood. He's a sweetheart, too, affectionate and loving to the core, with an inner child who never went away. And I love that about him, the moments where we just get to act like kids, the moments where we get to just be ourselves. And his little boxy smile is the best. Could outshine the sun any day. 

He gets angry too, and I won't say that it's not scary, because it is. I don't feel like I'm in danger at all, not with him, but there is always a moment where I feel like I have to step back before I can get into the right headspace to help him deal with whatever he needs to deal with. If he needs to vent, I don't stop him, but sometimes the pent-up emotion boils over, and he just needs someone to hold him. I've become good at that over the years, and I'm there for him, not because I have to be or because I demand that of him. Just because it works for us. 

But anyway, I'm not here to gush about the man I love, though if I do that I do apologise. I can't help how I feel, and sometimes I have to express it. That is merely a part of being in love, and we never really left the honeymoon phase. I hope we never do, because he's brilliant and we're a little dysfunctional at times but we get through it. 

We're working on it, and that's what matters the most to me.