VMIN / THE GUTTER

6

It's been four days. Taehyung has one day left of his exclusion, wherein he feels the hours stretching down from a caramel soaked spoon, ticks, tick, tick — feeling each, singular speck of sugar as it trickles down against harsh metal. He's jettisoned numerous notions of going outside, choosing to spend every day of his suspension cooped up in the confines of his room.

Jaesung, his brother, being twenty-three, is rarely in the house; he's got a steady job at a bottled water company, that gives Taehyung and his grandma the ability to live. His heart fetches water from mountain dew, and packages up the manna into those packages of compressed plastic, and, for what it's worth, he enjoys it. He spends the rest of his time writing songs and performing gigs to small crowds, and he usually returns home with a false smile plastered across his face. His tan features often contort into such an expression, wherein the mites of tiredness start to gnaw their way from beyond the surface. As if holding a lighter to paper, his face goes up in flame, and the cracks of his exhaustion bleed through.

Usually, he'll come home and fall asleep, but, since Taehyung's been home, he comes up to his little brother's room and pounces.

"Fuck!" Taehyung hollers, and Jaesung leisurely presses his weight all across the boy, who was sat hunched over in the corner of his room, shoving pins into a balled up wafer of fabric.

"God, you're such a lazy shit."

"Hey! I've been working all day." Taehyung protests, slamming his fingers into the fabric.

Jaesung clicks his tongue and, sliding off of his brother, he lays on the floor and examines what he's doing. "Are you making a voodoo doll?" He almost cackles out, eyes dark and indicative of joy.

Irritated by the disturbances, Taehyung clicks his head sidewards and pulls the fabric toward him. "It's not a voodoo doll." He caresses it's head, holding it protectively to him. "Just a doll." Petulance breaches the brackets of his speech, and Jaesung snorts at him.

"You're a little old for dolls, space cadet." He comments, mindlessly picking at the array of fabrics spread out before him. His long hair falls in his eyes, and it's a rather majestic sight to behold, as his glittery eyes glance up at the younger.

"It's not for me." Taehyung protests, squeezing the thing and turning it so Jaesung can see, as he proudly says, "it's for Mrs Lee's daughter. She asked me to take her to the pool again tomorrow."

Jaesung's expression can be described as nothing short of disgusted, as he releases a shriek of laughter. "You trying to permanently scar this girl?" He cackles out, grasping the doll for himself, and seeing the ghastly stitchings in its yellow face, with lips that melt like blood, and eyes that bulge like insects. Dressed in all black, it looks like a zombie, with its brains hanging like string from it's head.

"It's cute." Taehyung protests, pulling the item back to him and staring at it in an almost self-conscious manner.

Jaesung snorts. "You're fucking warped, Tae."

Taehyung grits his teeth and his jaw clenches with it, and he makes his glare prominent as the sun, emanating from the transpiring nebuliser of clouds, full of acorn hues and deep heat. "Is it really that creepy?" He questions, staring down at the little thing he'd been stitching.

"No duh. If you give that to a little kid, their parents would probably get you checked in for a psychiatric evaluation." He says, and then there's a pause, as he looks over the object again, and he begins to split at the sides, laughter tearing out of him, as he lies on his back and unleashes a sea of giggles.

"You're such a bitch." Taehyung accuses, and stands to his feet suddenly, reeling the edge of his socked heel down onto his brother's stomach.

Jaesung wheezes as the wind is knocked out of him. And Taehyung stands triumphant for only a moment, before Jaesung springs to life and grabs at his shirt, trying to stop him from escaping the room. However, just as Taehyung manages to grasp at the door handle, the bedroom door comes open anyway and their grandmother is staring at them through her obnoxiously large glasses. Their ministrations are halted immediately, as they stare in sheepish vermillion toward their guardian.