Butterfly - BTS

Chapter Fourteen

"Seokjin, I wanted to thank you for trying to keep us together," Namjoon stated. He lifted his head to look me in eyes, and I saw the dark circles around his eyes and the red veins in his eyes. He looked like actual death, and unfortunately, I knew what that looked like all too well.

"Why are you thanking me? It's my job," I replied listlessly, studying him carefully. "But are you okay? I know how... ruthless... those rumors can get."

Namjoon laughed, but it was without humor. "I'm fine, hyung, really," he said. "You don't have to worry about me."

"But I want to," I replied. "I want us all to live. No more deaths."

Namjoon smiled grimly. "I wish that too," he murmured.

"So, please, don't mind the rumors anymore, and stop smoking," I pleaded. "We have to remain a family."

"Remain a family," Namjoon repeated. "A family."

I nodded.

"Then let's remain a family," he muttered weakly. I smiled sadly. Did that mean that he would try to quit smoking?

At that moment, Taehyung entered the living room from dance practice. Ever since Hoseok's death, Taehyung had taken it upon himself to become a better dancer, since, well, Namjoon and I weren't known for our dancing skills.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he was breathing hard. I checked the time quickly and realized that he had been dancing for the past four hours.

"Hi, Taehyung," I said, smiling weakly. "How was practice?"

"Good," he replied curtly. "We worked on krumping."

"That's nice," I sighed, not knowing what else to say. I didn't have to say anything else, because Taehyung immediately made a beeline for the refrigerator. He flung open the metallic gray door and stuck his head inside.

"Hey, when are we going grocery shopping?" he asked, closing the door. "There's only butter and eggs left."

"Oh, I'll go shopping now, since you're hungry, then," Namjoon answered, standing up.

"Thanks, hyung," Taehyung said as Namjoon slipped into his boots and left the dorms. When he did, Tae collapsed onto the seat next to me.

"Gah, I'm so tired," he moaned, covering his face. "Krumping takes up so much energy."

"Shower and take a nap?" I suggested. Taehyung nodded and peeled himself off the couch, shuffling towards the bathroom. I sighed and directed myself to the refrigerator before remembering that there was nothing in it.

I hope Namjoon comes home soon, I thought, my slight hunger growing more and more bothersome.

I decided to settle down on the sofa again and watch some anime. Ever since the unfortunate chain of events, I hadn't had the time nor motivation to start another show, but since things seemed to winding down--it had been two months since the last death--I chose to start a new anime. Maybe it would help me settle back into normality.

An episode in, I heard a loud booming noise outside. Fireworks? I craned my neck to see out of the window, but from my angle, I saw nothing out of the ordinary outside.

My phone vibrated with an alert.

Local Alert: Gas station in the Gangnam district has exploded due to a small fire.

"What the mother?" I set down my phone and turned the TV to the news channel. As I thought, it was the main story. "We're in the Gangnam district."

Normally, I didn't mind the news that much, but it wasn't every day a gas station within a walking distance blew up. Someone I knew could've been near.

"Authorities are saying that the explosion was caused by a cigarette," said the female reporter. "Five have been pronounced dead at the scene, and-"

That was when I tuned her out.

Cigarette?

"Did you hear that noise?" Taehyung asked, emerging from the bathroom, freshly washed. I met his gaze. He saw the dread and fear in my eyes, and he knew. He didn't have to watch the news or know, but judging from my expression, the loud boom, and the previous deaths, Taehyung knew.

"No!" he shouted, grabbing at his head. "No, there's no proof that it's him!"

I wanted to calm him down, I really did, but I couldn't. I was too wrapped up in my own anguish to help tame Taehyung's. My blood rushed in my ears, and I was vaguely aware that I wasn't breathing.

Taehyung broke out of his screaming daze to order, "Hyung, we have to go."

"Go w-where?" I stammered, my fingers tingling with numbness. My face was freezing, but I felt it warming up as Taehyung dragged me back into reality.

"We have to go to that gas station," he responded blatantly. "We need to make sure."

"What's the use?" I mumbled. "Even if they knew, the police wouldn't tell us."

"We could look for clues or we could ask around or..." Taehyung stomped his foot. "Seokjin, we have to be there. We've been there for everyone else, and our leader should be no different."

"Okay," I whispered quietly. "Let's check it out."

Silently, we put on our shoes and left. There were no emotional breakdowns anymore or crying fits. At some point, it had stopped hurting. It felt like being punched out of nowhere, but the sting of pain wasn't there. Only the force was registered. I could feel the hole in my heart where Namjoon should've been, but there wasn't much of my heart to be broken.

"There," murmured Taehyung, pressing his face against the glass of the car window. We pulled up in front of the yellow tape and got out, staring at the blackened gas station, rich black oil oozing and orange flames still smoldering. Paramedics were taking away body bags, and I couldn't help but wonder if Namjoon was in one of them.

"Goddammit," Taehyung hissed, his lower lip trembling. I looked at him sadly. The kid was still really young, only 19. Of course he would be more traumatized than I. I ushered him away from the scene.

"C'mon," I mumbled, leading him away. "We can try to find clues or something, I guess."

Taehyung nodded miserably, his boots scuffing the rough pavement.

We hadn't even walked for two minutes when I saw the car. It was Namjoon's car, parked outside of a coffee shop. Taehyung saw it too.

"Namjoon?" he shouted as he barreled inside, his voice quivering frantically. No Namjoon, just odd looks from the people in the building. As Taehyung went in to ask people about him, I went back out to Namjoon's car. It was a chilly day near the harbor, so I had to walk closer to get a better look.

"Wha-?" I did a double take as I saw something written on the driver's window. It was written in the fog, as if someone had breathed in the window and written in it with their finger.

Someone had written a short message on the window of Namjoon's car. It was blatantly obvious; the Hangul was clearly scribbled onto the already-fading fog. The handwriting was very familiar, and my heart almost collapsed when I recognized it.

It was Namjoon's handwriting.

The emotions that I had refrained from feeling came rushing at me. This was Namjoon's last message, his last action in the world. A final word that would be long gone as soon as the temperature dropped or when something brushed up against it. Namjoon's remaining essence would be erased within minutes, and it was right in front of me.

"You have to survive."