Infinite Tsukuyomi (無限月読) //Taekook

Chapter: 26

Mate

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Taehyung was still in shock, his mind reeling. He didn’t even notice when the figure walked toward him and sat beside him. The moment he felt the piercing intensity of someone's gaze, his chest tightened. A wave of unease washed over him as he hesitantly turned his head.

His breath hitched.

The figure was right there, sitting next to him tall, imposing, and radiating a quiet confidence that seemed to unravel every ounce of stability Taehyung had left. His throat went dry, his hands instinctively clutching at the fabric of his coat as if it could shield him from the storm brewing inside.

A sharp pang of self-consciousness shot through him, sharper than any blade. His thoughts spiraled, a cruel onslaught of insecurities echoing in his mind.

"You’re disgusting."
"You don’t belong here."
"Why would anyone want to be near you?"
"You’re cursed. Hide your face, just die"

His vision blurred as tears threatened to spill, but he blinked them away, desperate to hold onto the fragile threads of composure. A lump formed in his throat, making it harder to breathe with each passing second.

He felt small. Insignificant. As though every imperfection, every hidden scar, and every buried fear was suddenly exposed for this stranger to see. His chest ached under the crushing weight of his insecurities. For once, he silently thanked the mask covering his face it was his only shield.

Yet, despite his inner turmoil, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the figure again. Something about their presence was both unsettling and magnetic.

The figure’s face was also obscured by a mask, but Taehyung could feel their gaze burning through him. Every shift of his body, every breath, every flicker of discomfort it was like the figure noticed it all.

And Taehyung, drowning in his own emotions, couldn’t decide if he wanted to flee or stay.

Tae instinctively moved to stand up, his legs shaky and his mind clouded with panic. But before he could take a single step, the figure reached out and grabbed his wrist with a firm yet deliberate grip, pulling him back into his seat.

“Sit,” the figure commanded, his voice calm but filled with an authority that
sent a chill down Taehyung’s spine.

The figure’s deep, steady voice broke the tense silence. “Lower your mask.”

Taehyung’s breath hitched. His grip on the fabric tightened, a silent refusal lingering in his mind. He didn’t want to obey but every fiber of his being screamed against it. But as if under some invisible spell, his trembling hands betrayed him.

“No,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, more to himself than the figure. Yet, his fingers moved involuntarily, slowly tugging at the edge of the mask.

His mind raced with panic. Why am I doing this? Why can’t I stop?

Taehyung's insecurities clawed at him like a relentless storm. He’ll see everything—the scars, the flaws, the ugliness I’ve tried to hide.

And yet, despite the turmoil raging inside, he felt powerless, his actions no longer his own. The figure’s gaze remained fixed on him, unwavering, as though it alone commanded obedience.

With trembling fingers, Taehyung slowly lowered his mask, his chest tightening as he braced himself for the inevitable. The figure's eyes widened, and Taehyung's heart sank. He thinks I’m ugly… disgusting.

Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, Taehyung closed his eyes, preparing for the cruel words that would surely follow. His insecurities screamed louder, drowning out the sound of his own breathing.