Taekook oneshots

A Ghost

Jeongguk is a ghost.

Its stupid really. It doesn't even make sense anymore. He stopped trying to make sense of things since 1953, the year he died.

Back then, he had no idea what happened. For five years, he had absolutely no clue that he was dead even. It was all dark and fog. He doesn't know how to explain, but time just slowed down for a moment.

A long moment. He realized that everything around him was developing, growing out, growing old, but not him. He reminained a young twenty one years old boy, outliving all his family members and all the following generations. Last time he checked, most of the members from his bloodline moved to America, leaving him as alone as he ever been.

Truth is, that throughout the time he puzzled the pieces of his life together. He died during Korean's last war, on the field. He remembers he was shot down at sight, but does not remember the pain at all. There's only little flashbacks, becoming more foggy as the time goes by, but he does remember his last breathe.

There's a face he won't ever forget. The face of the person that he saw before his eyes closed forever. He isn't sure anymore, but he trusts in his heart that the man was his friend. His heart was at its last beats, his ears were ringing from all the shots and bombs, but he still could hear faintly someone, a deep voice screamed his name.

Jeongguk!! Jeongguk!! Can you hear me? Jeongguk!!!

That is one of the only clear memories he has. One he holds on dearly, because it was the last time he heard someone call his name. He's afraid that, if he let's go of that gentle voice, of that last piece of evidence that he really existed, he'll forget who he is completely.

But really, he's just a mellow shadow of what he once was. Now he just wanders around, no destiny or guidance, no willingness to go anywhere but no patience to just stay still in one place.

If you gave him the option of dying, oh dear wouldn't he take it. That's all he wants. To rest in peace, without the void that he feels inside, or the bullet wounds that still adorn his chest. He just wants to let it all go, but he lost all hope of ever having the opportunity to let go of this stupid world.

How many more epidemics, diseases, wars and deaths will he have to witness for the gods to give him some needed peace? Jeongguk started to believe what he's experiencing is what the catholics call hell, because its nothing but a constant pain and emptiness that you can never fill. The sadness of knowing that yesterday is the same as today and that tomorrow will be no different is something that Jeongguk got used to. He had to.

He's now back at Korea, Busan, after being god knows how long laying in a field in the mountains of Switzerland. He doesn't want to think of it, but he's sure he didn't get up during the four seasons of the year. Time is something that became pointless to him, so he doesn't care anymore.

It's a rainy night of november, and the streets are as empty as his soul. The lights from the little cafés, stores and houses are what illuminates the darkness of the night.

He's bored, as always, but decides to enter a particular comfy café that is known for its amazing coffee. He's been there a couple of times, sometimes staying sitting for days till no end.

The warm yellow lights of the place give him a feeling of comfort he can't explain. A weird feel of longing that he can't just place or describe.

So he goes through the door. No need to open it really, since he's nothing but a mass of something invisible. Nobody sees him, and funnily you could think that there are other ghosts, lost souls rooming around, but no. At least not visible to Jeongguk. So he's just really, alone.