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( Taehyung & Jimin ).
ONE DAY EARLIER. NOVEMBER 7 11:03 pm.
KIM TAEHYUNG, FOR all the arrogance and scars he was built off of, never imagined he'd trump death and awake surrounded by dirt and stone and death, in a coffin made of the darkest and finest wood he'd ever touched.
Not a single splinter grazed his fingers as they brushed the surface of his open casket, the plush ivory interior just as nice as the glossy wooden exterior.
Within those walls was where Kim Taehyung had been fated to sleep eternally, beside a sister he hardly knew in life.
Taehyung looked at himself. He was wearing full white. His silky blouse, partly translucent in the moonlight matched his dress pants and his shoes in color. Through the thin fabric on his chest, the man could see not-so-faint lines of his own raw skin, scratches and scars upon his once beautifully preserved body.
Flashes of what were his memories blinded him temporarily, and he had to close his eyes to keep the nausea from climbing up his throat.
Taehyung remembered everything.
Beside his coffin was another man, around Taehyung's age. He was blankly staring at his hands, as though he had just discovered them for the first time.
Taehyung cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it upon the realization that he couldn't. No sound escaped his dry and cracked lips.
But that wasn't the only thing the man had realized at that moment. He also realized a second thing.
Kim Taehyung couldn't tell what emotion he was feeling.
No, he couldn't feel at all.
JIMIN HAD JUST brought a dead person back to life. He had touched a dead person, and now they weren't dead at all.
All he could do was admire this terrifyingly amazing feat he had just done.
Jimin didn't even realize that the man had been trying to catch his attention until he looked up, meeting the deepest and darkest eyes he'd ever seen.
