LOVE BORN FROM ASHES | VKOOK ✓

01 | LOVE BORN FROM ASHES

LOVE BORN FROM ASHES | VKOOK
—oneshot by GgukieBottoms

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    If Jeongguk had to place a specific date on when exactly he willingly gave Taehyung his heart and soul, it would tread back to that dreadful winters day.

The harsh gnaw of winter rummaged through the modern threadbare hanbok, sunk its teeth into ivory planes of skin hidden beneath—tore through the soft dry skin until it was not merely skin-deep, but rattled his bones. So much that he feared his teeth might chap at how they clattered.

He pulled the red scarf tighter around his neck and covered his rubicund nose with it. Huddled for warmth under the abandoned shed his father had built years prior to his birth, demolished hours ago by a hoard of rouges, complete savages, thieves.

The padded snow beneath and around his swollen bare feet was drenched with scarlet frozen-like crystals and trailed to the pile of corpses huddled beside him.

He could barely make out their blue dismantled faces. Their bodies comatose, as cold as the ground they lay upon. Was that his mother? Her hair was nappy and stuck between her jagged teeth, some strands woven into her eyelashes; eyes open but unseeing. His older brother's face was bashed in. And he swore his father was short a limb or two.

The mere sight made his head spin. Nausea twisted in the pit of his tummy—not even his scarf nullified the putrid stench of bloodshed.

His eyes became so glossy he could barely see. And no matter how many times he squeezed his eyes shut with hopes to block every sight out, the memories of how his family was slaughtered before him were branded into his brain with hot metal until they engraved into his pupils.

The small confined village hummed in silence, accompanied by the howling wind and swooshing blizzard. No longer would he play with his village friends, sneak loaves of bread under his robe as they dashed to their not-so secret hideaway only to be caught by his brother (who would sometimes join in their shenanigans, even though he was older).

    Half an hour had gone by when finally, a family that had trekked up the snowy plain, discovered him quivering in the corner. A small raven-haired boy, perhaps two years older than he, called out to his mother with distraught. He, even though petrified by the sight of the deceased, leaped towards him and knelt down with such concern for a poor village most noble folk would ignore. On that day, he was taken and nurtured in their home.

He remembered how shaken he was back then, how his words were clogged up in his throat. Could not even tell the boy, who he had come to know as Taehyung, his name. A mere touch sent a plethora of chills down his spine and caused him to flinch each time. How had he survived a bath from Taehyung and his mother, he did not know.

Eventually, he warmed up to his new family, though he never took on their family name—not wanting to abandon his late relatives. He and Taehyung were conjoined to the hip. Taehyung was always warm, he realized. And something about that warmth drew him in; closer and closer. He wanted all of it to completely consume him. For it was his and only his. Taehyung made him feel safe and loved.

    Soon, he was enrolled into high school. He could not bear to be away from Taehyung, scared of his classmates and of a loss of that warmth he sought after. But he had to force himself to handle the cold, since Taehyung was two grades ahead of him.

Though, he always made sure to spend lunchtime with him, practically snuggled into his side as they ate. And Taehyung brushed off the weird stares they received, gave his friends a dagger-like glare and snarl.