Smoke Me.

Chapter 61: Hopeless (Special)

AN: Hi. How's your day?

Jungkook's Perspective:

I've been awake for three yellow days and three white nights.

It was like a never-ending nightmare.

Tugging at my fingers, pulling on my cuticles and hair tips.

But my lips remained shut.

Taehyung's smile was ever so present.

Namjoon was a still lake.

But I could feel it. The pill from the middle of the room was as big as a monster.

What I didn't know was if he could also feel it.

Or whether there was the desire for him to know about it.

Talking about what happened more or less four days ago without it having consequences was the dream of a fool.

We shared the guilt. Taehyung and I.

If choices were the branches of a tree, then my options have left this tree looking at the brink of death. I could either not talk about it until the day I'll die or I could shout it at the top of my lungs.

I could either keep pretending everything is the same as before or I could run and start anew.

But which one? And how?

This dilemma kept me standing on my feet, leaning against the kitchen counter, ogling my eyes out at the two conversing on the couch.

'Limbo.'

That's what this was.

Not high enough to forget.

Not strong enough to withstand the thought of it. The heaviness of knowledge.

Not courageous enough not to fear it.

Not sober enough to find, or grow another branch. Or tape a stolen one to the trunk.

Not lucky enough for Taehyung to get hit by a bus.

Not inhumane enough that I could sign his death sentence.

Or worse.

Sign his repentance papers.

Letting live and forgive was a path I was struggling to crawl on.

But this wasn't about forgiveness.

It was about what the two of them represented.

Or much worse.

What I represented in their story.

What adjective they'd attach to me because I couldn't find one that I could be proud of.

Namjoon, however, has already attached many words to me. Not that it truly mattered.

The present mattered. And at this moment in time, I knew that watching the time slip away was not going to lead me to anything. Stalling was and is a choice in itself. A refusal to surrender, flee or attack.

Stalling is neither. It's blending in with your surroundings.

The only way to flee is if I were to claim that I want to go home now; although it sounds like a naive wish.

Cause none of us have any homes to go back to

My brother has moved in with the mother of his child. My parents have gone back to live the story of married soulmates.