cold feet [1]

thirty one

taehyung point of view

Everyone ate in silence at the table that felt empty despite the same amount of people sitting at it. Though the void of the youngest, replaced by another, could never be filled. I felt every glance and stare as I sat awkwardly in the spot that once belonged to Jungkook. It felt wrong to be sitting here with his family, to be sitting in comfort when I had treated him so poorly. It was a shame I'd never felt before, not even when I was first assigned the curse. No one tried to start any small conversations, or bring comfort to the emptiness. It was a woeful acceptance that things would never be the same again.

They had decided that his memorial service would be held in two days time. Jungkook's parents and sister would be there. I shuddered at the thought of having to face the woman whose son had tried to kill me, pinching my nose in a silent plead to the vengeance held inside that it stayed where it belonged. The service was to be held at his home in the back garden where a marble stone would be put in place to remember him. Though I didn't voice it, I was planning on leaving the ceremony. I couldn't bear to be there and hear the love everyone held for this boy, knowing it was something I could never do. To endure that amount of familial compassion would be a sure-fire way for me to end up in hell. I nearly laughed in Seokjin's face when he asked me to say something on the day.

Not a chance

---

"Have you seen that man again?" Jimin approached me from behind whilst I was sitting out in the garden, weaving pieces of grass together to form a vague basket shape. I was surprised by his lack of animosity towards me as he took a seat beside me on the grass, picking up his own pieces of greenery to fiddle with. In response to his question I shook my head, eyes narrowing in to focus on something that wasn't the uncomfortable proximity. One slight shift from Jimin and my knee would burn.

"Why do you assume they're a man?" I asked absent-mindedly, watching Jimin delicately put down a plate with a sandwich in front of me. Never one to deny food, I dropped the basket and began eating the sandwich as I looked up into the curious eyes of the boy I was so uncomfortably familiar with.

"Because if they're a man, there is more of a possibility of them being Jungkook."

"You sad child." Was all I muttered as I tried to pull away, though I winced into the grip on my arm that kept me on the ground.

"Why are you of all people so quick to reject the thought of something supernatural happening? This person keeps showing up in places that Jungkook was familiar with."

"Jimin it's ridiculous! It's not like him to leave his friends suffering." Jimin's eyes narrowed, I glared back as I shoved him away, trying to ignore the pain that spread through my limbs.

"You want to believe he is dead don't you," he scoffed, I felt that dwindling self control at his words. "Because it makes you feel safe. If he were still alive you'd be on death row."

"Shut up Jimin," I warned, fists curling.

"No you shut up! You're the son of a God, how fitting that you think of no one but yourself." Before I could stop, I launched forward and punched the red head across his cheek, sending him flying backwards which I soon reflected in my own levels of pain. I shook my fist and groaned, falling back to the ground as I felt the blisters burn into my skin that rubbed uncomfortably against the thin fabric of my gloves.

"Absolute asshole," I gritted out, ignoring the scolding that echoed as I heard Seokjin come running to Jimin's side.

Wow, never seen you throw a punch before, that's usually my job.
Shut up you prick.

---

I sat in one of the rooms inside the house, eyes trailing the pacing of Hoseok who had been assigned to keep me and Jimin apart. This boy was much better company than that asshole I nearly fell in love with.

"We need to find you something to wear to the ceremony," Hoseok spoke up, a pause in his pacing to inspect the clothes I still had on since my arrival. Still very much blood stained and probably smelling like smoke and grime.

"I don't have any other clothes," I replied, veiling the true reason that came with the sentimentality of what the clothes symbolised. It was probably not a good idea to show up to his memorial service wearing the clothes I wore on the day he was killed. I sensed that wouldn't go down well with his family.

"We should find you some." Hoseok spoke up with a gentle smile, holding out a hand to help me to my feet. I followed behind letting my gloved fingers settle into the crevices of the boy's touch. Gods I was pathetic when it came to any physical touch... "Let's go shopping. It will get our minds off this heaviness for awhile, and will be a good opportunity for you to find something more comfortable." I tried to protest but it was no use as Hoseok pulled me out the front and opened up the car door for me. He waited with an unending patience for me to take the passenger seat. I wasn't getting out of this...

---

"Is everyone trying to do what Seokjin is doing about celebrating him?" I queried, watching the bubbly boy I had first met give a subdued smile upon finding a car park. It was clear that this energy was masking the deeper grief, a meer distraction. I could feel that intentional shift towards a life beyond grief's suffocating feeling. In a way that hurt more. Hoseok shrugged at the question, unbuckling his seat belt and pulling the keys from the ignition.

"I guess. Grief is exhausting, one minute I feel okay, next I can barely breathe." I nodded, understanding that feeling completely. That grief, that feeling he so accurately described was the cause of my biggest mistake.

Harsh calling me a mistake...
Go away.
You wish.

Pushing fingers to my temples in attempt to wash away that conflict inside, I climbed out of the car and looked around at the busy shopping centre. I'd never been here before with the intention to shop. Occasionally I'd snoop around in the early morning, grabbing a few food items off the shelves when the morning staff were too tired to care.

"I've never been here before." I decided to settle on, figuring a confession about my frequent robberies would probably not go down well.

"Then follow me or you'll get lost." So I did just that, following him around from shop to shop as he attempted to find me a shirt to wear. There was no way he was getting me in one of those things. The suits and tailored shirts were something I hadn't worn in centuries, once a mundane delicacy, now a fear of my own making.

"Why do I have to wear fancy clothes? What difference will it make?" Hoseok frowned.

"It's just a way of showing you care. You wear formal attire to a wedding because you are celebrating and respecting their marriage. You wear formal attire to a funeral because you are remembering and respecting their death. I know it's not the most comfortable form of clothing but at least wear a nice shirt and some dress pants." He stopped outside a shop that had exactly that. "Come on. This place is a little less extravagant, though we might have to look in kids for you." He joked teasingly, then dragged me inside by the arm, the squinted glare I sent him not going unnoticed as he chuckled.

---

"See, that wasn't so hard now was it?" He held a plain black dress shirt and matching slacks in a plastic covering as we walked through the centre. I hid my face from him, feeling embarrassed as he teased me for being so dramatic in the process. "Now you just need shoes."

"No." I barked back a little too quickly, "I'm not wearing those ridiculous things. I'm going barefoot." Hoseok sighed, his face dropping back to a frown.

"Seokjin won't be impressed."

"Does it look like I care?" He studied my face for a few seconds before yielding and diverting to the direction of the car.

"Fine, but he's going to be so pissed at you."

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