listen before i go - vkook | REWRITING

it all comes to down to us

The young boy had not seen Jeon in a week.

Instead, he had been visited by a man with the name 'Riant.'

He had never been informed of the man's real name, but had assumed that was due to safety precautions. 

And he knew better than to ask. 

The first time he had visited, he was woken up by his bedsheets being torn away from his body. A man roughly tore at his clothes, hands demanding and face blurry. "Get the fuck up," the voice had yelled in his earn, startling him into a more conscious state. He blinked a few times before rubbing at his eyes like a toddler, managing to get the morning nasties out.

"What the fuck are you wearing? We don't act like that here. Fucking fairy; disgusting."

Merely minutes later, he was handcuffed and being shoved down a hallway he hadn't seen before. "Where are we headed?" He had asked in a gentle voice, pure intention behind the question.

The question was met with a rough hand to the back of his head, mostly the bottom of the palm to ensure it hurt worse. "You're so fucking stupid, huh? Shut your damn mouth. You're fucking worthless." And just like that, the young boy refused to speak another word. He was scared, shaking like a leaf in a bitter April storm and this did not help his case.

"If I hear you talk again, I tell Head you were unruly. You want that?"

–

Day after day, the beatings only progressively got more intense.

Taehyung would wake up with more bruises on top of those that had just barely begun to heal, wounds he couldn't seal up as he had nothing to call his own. He hadn't seen the bedroom he'd initially been gifted in weeks. Or had it been months? A year? He wasn't sure.

The spark had slowly begun to drift from his eyes.

The memories helped him sleep. He could remember fond moments that he had once shared with his mother. The smell of the fresh flowers around him as they took steps through the local farmer's fields, picking one especially for her with a huge, boxy and childish grin upon his lips. The Christmas they had been able to spend together in Seoul, shopping through each store, even if they didn't really have the money to go. The snow falling down, framing around his mother's beautiful and timeless visage, and him, innocent as ever, catching the falling snowflakes upon his tongue with a grin permanently stuck to him lips. "I love you, Mommy!" He would shout as she'd lift him into her arms. 

"I love you too, my sunflower. You are special, and you were always meant to be someone. You'll find it one day."

All he had to call home was a tiny room without the light of day. His wrists were bound to the floor when he was finally allowed to catch whatever sleep he could and was left alone. The ropes he was tied down with were constantly caked over with his blood, replenishing each and every day. Small words here and there had begun to slip away from him, simple little things that he hadn't seen or heard about in a very long time. After all, he hadn't used his voice since he had first been taken away. And he refused to, for fear of losing himself and his life, however pathetic it may be. 

The boy had permanent burn scars around his wrists from being bound to the floor at night. The man, Riant, had lashed his back enough to leave damage that could never be undone; raised lines of skin that had healed over, but would never be the same again. He had harmed nearly every inch of his body that he could get his hands on, but Taehyung had wanted to bounce back. He really, truly did.

However, there is only so much pain one man could possibly withstand. 

Taehyung was no longer the happy, bright young man he had been.

He had been turned into something else entirely. Someone else entirely.

Who was he?

He didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't -