WISHING ONE DAY YOU'LL BE MINE(✓)

17] What if the roles were reversed?

Chapter -XVII

It wasn’t the blood that triggered
Taehyung's panic instincts, nor was it the anger looming on Taehyung's face. It was the lack of greeting his husband gave as he walked past and over towards the bed. No smile, no sweet words or a teasing grin thrown his way. The silence was too loud. Even his breath was blaring enough to break the air around them. So he held it, deep down, he choked himself until Jungkook was far away enough before he could release the air and save himself. He was drowning in the midst of air, he was burning in the pits of ocean. Jungkook was hurt, and something was wrong. Jungkook was hurt. Jungkook was hurt. 

With just a brief glance he could see some of the cuts and slashes on his skin, where his armour, or the lack of, wasn’t hiding. Some deep enough to worry about and others distressing enough to go hysteric over. He was filthy with mud, the brown mixed with the red, like a disastrous painting. Without realising his feet moved closer to his injured body. He watched as Jungkook ripped off his shirt and threw it on the floor. Rage was the only word he could use to describe his actions, his movements were one of irritability, every twist and turn filled with such vigour. A fear of his own bubbled just beneath his skin, until he remembered who was sitting in front of him. The fear fizzled down as quickly as it rose, Jungkook would not hurt him, he knew that well enough by now.

Finally making the decision to speak, he cleared his throat and ignored the slight tremble in his hands. “You’re making a mess.”

Many questions were bought forward in his mind for him to ask; if he was okay, what happened, and why he was hurt was amongst many of them. But the words he spat out were not. As shocked as Jungkook was, it wasn’t comparable to how furious he was in himself for the words that had left his mouth. He cursed himself inwardly, but it was too late.

Jungkook stopped pulling off the barely hanging armour from his chest. He huffed out a breath in disbelief and continued to rip the material apart. After a while of fighting with the garment, he chucked it on the floor and it rattled with a loud clunk. “Sorry. Do you suggest anywhere else I could bleed?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The problem was, Taehyung didn’t know what he meant either, it seemed fitting to state the obvious. His tremor had increased to a shake, to any other eye it looked like he was in a worse condition than Jungkook himself. His hands hovered over his shoulder reluctantly, but they were making too much of a commotion for him to have the courage to touch. He pulled back quickly and chewed on his bottom lip, calming himself down to say what he truly wanted to. “You’re losing too much blood. You shouldn’t be here,” he tried again.

“I’ll be fine. Could you bring me warm water and a cloth? I wouldn’t want to get your floors any dirtier,” Jungkook scoffed, his focus on his wounded chest as he pressed a palm to stop the red from oozing out.

Taehyung hurriedly rushed to the bathroom, half in anger, half in concern as he started to fill the bath, turning the hot lever to the side. “I told you that’s not what I meant!” he yelled loud enough for Jungkook to hear him through the water gushing down, on to his palm first.

“Calm down. What’s gotten you so mad?” he yelled back, still situated on the bed as he waited. He looked towards the open door. His eyes set on Taehyung's hands underneath the tap. Steam started to fog up between them, his silhouette becoming hazy.

Choosing to stay silent, Taehyung shrugged, just a small lift of his shoulders and back down. He ignored the question. And then after a moment had passed, he spoke. “I’m not mad.”

“Sure you’re not,” Jungkook scoffed. He squinted to get a better look, losing more sight of him as the seconds passed, “get used to this sight, my body has been covered in blood more times than it hasn’t-”