"Taehyung..."
After twelve months since you became his guardian, the soft whisperings of his name have now turned completely vacuous, no trace of the faint recognition that usually shone in his eyes whenever ive pronounced the word. Now he completely avoids you're unearthly presence, and i feel like i've turned into nothing more than a small, annoying fly that buzzes around his room, unable to make a sound as i desperately try to get his attention.
Taehyung's trashing his bedroom recklessly, looking under his bed, opening every drawer, throwing the clothes to the floor as he looks through his wardrobe. He can't find what he's looking for, and a nagging thought presses at your mind as the realization hits you, chest clenching painfully— i thought i couldn't feel any pain as a spirit, but Taehyung seems to turn me more human than ever as my eyes follow his hasty movements, the frustration making your eyes burn as i try to work out a way to calm him down.
"Fuck— fuck him," Taehyung mutters under his breath, eyes gleaming with fury as he leaves his wrecked bedroom. i follow him hurriedly, heart in my throat as he descends the stairs of his house so fast i fear he might trip and fall.
I thought Taehyung's darkened aura was bad, but one glance at the living room makes the boy look collected in comparison. You know you'd be coughing up your lungs had you been alive, the smoke clinging to the walls as Taehyung's uncle and his friends drink and smoke nonstop. Empty bottles are littered around, some of them broken, and the dangerous pieces that are sticking out make the scene look like hell on earth.
A man with bloodshot eyes and a bottle of beer on his hand stops cackling as he notices Taehyung's fuming presence from his spot on the jagged couch. "The fuck are you doing here? Go back to your room, kid."
"Did you take my money?" it's the only thing Taehyung asks, and the low words laced with danger make a cold shudder run up your back.
The man — one i've come to identify as Taehyung's Uncle, even though i refuse to call him a parent— smiles drunkenly, bloodshot eyes shining with something malicious, and the dark shadows are so thick you have a hard time focusing on his face.
"It was never yours to begin with," the man slurs before lifting the bottle to his mouth, forgetting about Taehyung's presence almost immediately.
I approach Taehyung in less than a second, because the fog that surrounds him is swirling frantically now and the way his eyes seem to turn void scares you to no end— but not even the light of your fingers brushing his shoulder are able to diminish the darkness. I call his name again, not knowing what to do— and even though your voice is stronger this time, trying to overcome the strident laughs of the living room, Taehyung doesn't seem to acknowledge the ghost attached to his side.
He blinks instead, and the smile that slowly starts to curve his mouth is anything but happy.
In the past twelve months, Taehyung's led a reckless life— always getting himself in precarious situations that only manage to enhance the instability that has always surrounded him. Stealing, drinking, fighting, spray painting any empty surface he can find during lonely nights— Taehyung's eyes seem to turn unfocused during times like these, when life gets the better of him and makes him snap, and not even Taehyung seems to know exactly what he's doing: the only thing he knows is that it distracts him, that it makes him feel good, throwing away the consequences as he follows danger and lets its stinging fangs sink into his body.
Only your touch has been able to make him come back to reality, making him blink as the wickedness of his eyes slightly vanishes. I clear his mind of nightmares during the nights, and never let go of his arm whenever his uncle's around. It seems to give him some sort of tranquility, and even if he never acknowledged you directly, you always knew he felt your presence, even if he never understood what it was. It was a reassuring thought, how Taehyung's subconsciousness was aware of the touch of light that always tried to protect him.
Because above all else, i wanted him to be safe, to be happy.
But right now, as i watch the heavy storm consume him as he turns around and goes back upstairs, i can only try not to choke on the guilt, on the frustration that makes your hands shake and your legs buckle.
I can only follow him silently, eyes turning blurry at your inability to help him. Because Taehyung doesn't know you're here anymore, as if he finally let go of the hope he used to cling to desperately, finally giving up to the pain that's been trying to drag him down for so long.
"Taehyung," i murmur again in a shaky voice, knowing it's completely useless. The boy's somber expression makes your heart break into a million pieces as he registers his uncle's bedroom, smile appearing again when he lifts a set of keys from the bedside table.
"No, Tae, don't—" my words vanish when he all but runs out of the room, and i hurry behind him as he jumps down the stairs, long legs taking him to the entrance of the house in mere seconds.
You can hear his uncle screaming for him as Taehyung closes the door loudly, and my eyes widen when Taehyung quickly approaches his uncle's car.
