Belonging Season

1: The beginning of something

Blood.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Like water on the white tiles of this endless room with no door or window. The white clothes Taehyung was wearing were stained red and yellow from the dirt he had been lying in. Sprawled on the floor, he stared at the single light in the corner of the room with a numb body, feeling nothing. He knew this feeling all too well. This place, too, was all too familiar. It was where his soul felt at home because it had finally become incapable of feeling.

He didn’t know when it would end. When these dreams—more like nightmares—would stop. He never sought an answer. Yet, Taehyung understood that this place held deep meaning in his life. Because at the very last moment of the dream, he would hear that voice again, calling for him, asking him to come back to life. The voice that played in his ears like a tape recorder, the single song he longed to hear endlessly.

That voice was the only sound Taehyung heard in this vacant, endless room. The only reason he always returned here: to hear his name, as if he meant something to someone. Taehyung knew it was all fake. He knew it was just a dream. But if this dream was the only way to hear that voice again and again, then he would hurt himself, kill himself, endure the same pain until not only his body but his soul became numb. He was obsessed with it, and he knew it.

"Taehyungie?" the voice called, just as it did every other time.

"Y-yes!" he whispered back, afraid it might leave if he spoke too loudly.

They never liked him speaking loudly. They always told him to shut up, that his voice irritated them. That he should speak more quietly, or they wouldn’t love him. Taehyung longed to be cared for, to be loved, even just once. And this voice—it cared for him. It asked about him. Taehyung loved how it wanted to know him. They never did. They never listened. They said they would love him more if he spoke less.

"Are you okay, Taehyungie hyung?" the voice asked with a giggle, always so happy and lively, like a child seeing its favourite thing.

A smile appeared on Taehyung's face at the thought. Am I its favourite? He wanted to ask but held back.

The honey-sweet voice filled the air, and with it came the scent of flowers, as always.

"Yeah! I'm fine. I'm more than happy you came today," he said softly, wanting to show how much joy he felt whenever the voice visited.

"You're happy?" it asked, confused, as if it couldn’t believe it had made Taehyung happy.

A small chuckle escaped his lips. "Yes, very happy."

As those words left his mouth, darkness consumed him, and the voice, his peace, his serenity, was gone.

Taehyung jolted up from his bed, half the duvet falling to the floor, the other half still covering one leg. His black hair clung to his sweat-drenched face, and his body was similarly damp. Sunlight peeked through the open window, the morning breeze rustling the curtains.

Hadn’t I closed the window last night?

Shaking off the thought, Taehyung ran a hand through his hair and wiped the sweat from his face before sliding out of bed to pick up his clothes for the new day.