Sound of Winter || Taegyu

Chapter Twenty

Beomgyu lays in bed, staring up at the dark expanse of his ceiling, entangled in the web of his restless thoughts. It's late, the world around him cloaked in a tapestry of stillness and shadows. And while the luminescent glow of the moon spills through the half closed curtains, casting ethereal patterns on the wall, it fails to soothe his troubled mind.

He wants to sleep, his body exhausted from the events that unfolded earlier in the day, yet his mind is stubbornly awake, whirring with a multitude of concerns. Every time his eyes close, a kaleidoscope of memories dance before him, growing more vivid with each blink. The cacophony of the outside world fades away, turning into a muted symphony of faint sounds that amplify the restlessness within him.

In the silence, he finds himself marveling at the tiny details on the ceiling that used to go unnoticed. Staring at the wall seemed to be the only thing that passed the time in Seiji's frigid basement, and he wonders if the habit is something he'll ever be able to break himself from. The rhythmic ticking of the clock fills the room, mocking his inability to drift away.

He sighs, fingers absently tracing the bedsheets, hoping to find comfort in the gentle texture. The room used to be familiar and comforting, but now it doesn't even feel recognizable – he feels out of place. The pillows that he used to rest on every night, fluffed to perfection, offer no comfort either, only hugging his exhausted body with false promises. The weight of the world pressed upon his shoulders makes even the simplest of tasks – like breathing – seem difficult.

As the clock on Taehyun's bedside table ticks on, its echo becoming an eerie lullaby, a feeling of uneasiness washes over him. He rolls over on his side, lips parted slights, "Taehyun?" He softly whispers, though he doesn't know if he actually wants to wake the younger.

His voice trails off into the silent night, leaving a void that calls for a response, for reassurance. Yet, the response that he sought for doesn't come.

Curious and concerned, he turns his gaze towards Taehyun, sleeping quietly beside him. His peaceful face is untouched by the anxiety that consumed him, and he almost feels jealous of Taehyun. Jealous of the way he's able to navigate through every day like a seemingly normal human, while he's stuck in the traumatizing past. And while he knows Taehyun's struggling on the inside, he can't help but wish things were easier for him too.

Throwing off the blankets, he tenses up at the sudden rush of cold air that covers his body. Beomgyu swings his legs over the edge of the bed and gingerly plants his feet on the cool wooden floor. The creaking sound resonates through the room and he glances behind him to make sure Taehyun is still asleep.

Timidly, he tiptoes across the room, afraid to disrupt Taehyun's sleep as he makes his way to the stairs. The journey downward appears shorter in the daylight, but in the twilight hours, each step feels like an endeavor. The staircase creaks beneath him, groaning in protest at the intrusion upon the silence.

As he edges closer to the first floor, a soft glow beckons through the living room window. The moonlight seeps through the curtains, casting a peculiar spectrum of silvery light into the darkness. The refrigerator hums faintly, its low murmur being the only sound in the silent home.

He makes his way towards the sink, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and turning on the tap. The coolness of the water brushes against his fingers as he brings the glass to his lips. He sighs and stands motionless, staring down at the cup in his hand. A single drop of water trails down the glass, sparkling like a tiny star before it disappears into the rest of the water.

The warm glow of the moon spills into the kitchen, creating patterns onto the floor that Beomgyu trails with his eyes. The night is still, creating a sense of calmness in the room that is a very sharp contrast to how he feels inside. He's home now, a place where he's always felt safe – so why doesn't he feel happy? Why does he feel stuck in a whirlwind of emotions, filled with vulnerability and fear? And no matter how desperately he longs for things to feel normal, he doesn't even know what that feels like anymore. He's been home for a little over a month now, so why doesn't he feel better?