VMIN / THE GUTTER

3

tw minor descriptions of sexual assault, murder & drug usage

Music is muffled and something tranquil stirs within his veins. Glitter and gore; Taehyung sees crimson and he thinks, as his head tips back against the grimy, leather sofa, that he's reached the peak of ecstasy — he feels existence itself in his fingertips. The room around him is a blur, as all the goodness of the world infiltrates his immune system.

"Oh, yeah, fuck."

Numb, he still feels someone's hand at his thigh, his very reality being torn apart, as those hands clamber up his body, and that voice irritates his eardrums. Flashing lights, denim jeans and lipstick. He feels trails of teeth slither up his neck; his jugular is exposed, and his eyes bleed with images of phantoms and calm.

He's in an intimate state of relaxation, his aching, quivering bones falling soft beneath the mellow scrapings of hands, becoming pliant beneath the pleasurable whispers of harsh words. He's a slave to the drugs in his veins.

The boy groping him and groaning at him is equally as high, at least that what the hopeful side of Taehyung's mind says, and so he makes the excuse that it's okay for his body to be taken advantage of like this. What did it matter anyway?

There's a curious sense of delirium within the midnight of his mind and he feels compelled to cry out, to push the hot hands away and to seek solace within the fantasy of his drug-induced daydream, wherein rainbows brew out of the boy's creepy smile.

He's at a party, and completely malleable, mouth dry and hanging open, head leaned back, thoughts dissolved into sludge and empty wisdoms. "You're so hot."

Taehyung groans at the words, bleary in his descent into another reality, and harsh in his shoving of the hand that's not around his throat, resisting the clutching claws that are attempting to rid him of his euphoria.

"Shhh."

Taehyung's mind follows the order for a moment and it's all quiet in his glittery world, where makeup runs from the walls and blood coats his lips like a lipgloss of nature.

The hand meets his lips, fingers attempting to enter his mouth and he thinks he's hallucinating as he suddenly begins to feel such an intense itch that it physically makes him wretch, and he bites down, hard. It's only as the other boy screeches, that he realises he had, in fact, bitten him. He feels a little bad, but, in his dazed mind, he also feels as if he had already prophesied this, as the blood runs down his lips.

"You little bitch!"

The boy doesn't manage to get much more than a slap in before Taehyung's body begins to move; his limbs aching as his body reels forward from the sofa. The stranger watches it happen, sees how his body rises with ease, despite him not moving his limbs, as if ascending to heaven.

As if he was being picked up by a ghost.

"Hobi..." Taehyung says softly, recognising the pull, even in his inebriated state.

Hoseok ignores the boy's dazed smile, in favour of glaring at the disgusted and unfamiliar other boy — who looked more like a man, with his goatee and dark eyes — watching as he grumbles to himself, bolting out the room, before Hoseok turns back to the scene before him and internally screams at the state of his friend.

There were hickeys twisted all the way up his tan neck, his blue and black striped shirt unbuttoned almost all the way, his zipper also seemingly open. His breathing is heavy, as he's propped upon the sofa, looking a little like a discarded doll. His face is a scene of frank glamour, an abstract artwork, with blood running down his chin and mascara oozing down his cheeks, pink eyeliner still in tact and stretched up to his temples.