Hilde | Kim Taehyung fanfiction ✓

taehyung

12

Taehyung's memories were like scattered fragments of a broken mirror, each piece reflecting a bittersweet moment from his past.

In one memory, he saw himself as a child, laughing and playing with his mother.

Then, he was at the kitchen table of their old house, his mother patiently guiding him through his homework, her smile lighting up the room.

In another memory he saw his mother's steady hand helping him learn to ride a bike.

He remembered his mother teaching him to read.

In another leap forward, Taehyung witnessed himself and his mother enjoying a cozy night in, binge-watching her beloved movies. Although he wasn't particularly fond of those old films, some of them being romances that didn't quite capture his interest, they watched them nonetheless. Over time, they became so familiar with the lines that they would recite them to each other, laughter filling the room as they shared these simple moments.

Then, Taehyung would see the gradual decline in his mother's health.

He saw how the bags under her eyes deepened, caused by her restless nights.

He witnessed the rapid weight loss as she struggled to eat.

Her hair began to thin and fall out.

Her once-strong nails grew weak and brittle.

Taehyung's heart ached as he witnessed his mother's pain intensify.

He observed how even walking from her bedroom to the bathroom, left her gasping for breath.

And alongside her, Taehyung's own health deteriorated.

His once-bright eyes now shadowed by exhaustion as he took care of his mother's needs throughout the night.

The weight of worry and responsibility robbed him of his appetite.

He saw his grades take a dive.

Taehyung recalled the day his mother checked into the hospital. The hospital staff promised the hopeful sixteen-year-old Taehyung that his mother would be back on her feet in no time, perhaps even better than before.

But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, his mother's condition only worsened with each visit.

For two long years, Taehyung watched helplessly as his mother battled her illness, checking in and out of the hospital. Amidst the constant worry, school took a backseat: finding a job and supporting his family became essential.

At the age of eighteen, fate led him to Thorne.

Then, all his mother's mounting medical bills were miraculously settled within days.

Taehyung would spend countless nights, both before and after his hits, silently crying into his pillow, the weight of his "job" heavy on his heart. In the darkness of his room, he would stifle his sobs, desperate not to disturb his mother's rest on the rare nights she spent home.

The look in his mother's weary eyes spoke volumes, silently questioning, "What have you gotten yourself into?"

In those moments, Taehyung's own eyes would brim with unshed tears in response.

In Taehyung's recollection, the hospital visits to his mother were moments of fragile hope. 

But during one visit, as Taehyung exchanged polite nods with the hospital staff, the doctor responsible for his mother looked at him from across the corridor. In that momentary connection, he sensed sorrow in the doctor's eyes.

Taehyung's mind would then drift to the day of his mother's funeral.  It was a sunny day, the sky had never been that blue and the gentle chirping of birds filled the air.

Taehyung found comfort in the beauty of that day, he felt a sense of tranquility wash over him, a silent reassurance that she was at peace.

He imagined her looking down upon him from the heavens above, watching over him.

Taehyung would then visit an other day, when he wanted to tell Thorne that he wanted to quit, "Thank you for everything," he remembered saying.

But Thorne's response was not one of understanding or empathy. Instead, his words cut through Taehyung like a knife. "After all I have given you? After all this help?" Thorne's voice echoed with reproach and disappointment.

His loyalty and indebtedness bound him to Thorne.

Taehyung mustered up the courage to make another attempt at breaking free from being an assassin. He approached Thorne once more.

Taehyung spoke his truth, his voice steady. "I finally have been able to pay off all the hospital bills and my mother's funeral debts," he began. "Thank you for your help, but I want to stop."

"You have worked for me for a while now," Thorne began, "I don't think anyone has learnt as much information as you in such a short period of time. If I let you go, I will have to take care of you afterwards, Taehyung," Thorne continued, the implication clear in his tone. Taehyung knew all too well what Thorne meant.

And so, he stayed.

But his hits never became easy. On the contrary, the more lives he took, the more disgusted with himself he became.

The nights became hard as well. Each time he closed his eyes, the faces of his victims haunted his dreams.

But he continuously told himself that eventually it had to become easier. it just had to.

Taehyung recalled one of his final conversations with his mother, although he didn't realize it at the time. "Live a happy life. Focus on school. Find a good girl," she advised him, her voice punctuated by coughs. "Stay away from trouble."

Despite everything, Taehyung never blamed his mother for his life as an assassin. After all, he had taken care of her medical bills and debts, hadn't he?

He only resented himself.

He couldn't shake the guilt of knowing that his mother's last moments were spent in worry, concerned about him and what he was doing for her.

Taehyung would dive in each memory, dwelling on every detail for minutes on end. Sometimes, he would lose track of time, spending entire days lost in thought, fixated on a wall or his own hands.

Now, as Taehyung's memories brought him back to the present moment, he gently set down the photograph, noticing the soft glow of dawn filtering through his window.

He realized that he had spent the entire night walking down memory lane.