cold feet [1]

thirty two

You look fancy.

For the first time in fifty years, I stared at myself in the mirror. The pants were two sizes larger than what was considered suitable but they were the smallest size the shop had. The shirt fitted nicely though. It was a black dress shirt that had a silvery lining along the collar and sleeves. The pants were also black, with a similar design. Staring at my face felt strange, I almost didn't recognise my own features, noting the sharpness that came from my lack of eating. I rubbed at my wrists, nearly laughing at how ridiculous the suit looked with the white gloves, juxtaposed with my bare feet.

Still hot.
That is so not appropriate for you to say

"It's times like these I remember who you actually are." I turned to see Jimin standing in the doorway to the bedroom, eyes glancing over me like I was some art piece to scrutinise, to dig deep and find the true meaning behind everything. That true meaning was a painful one that I wished to bury, never to be seen again. Instead of focusing on my own self loathing, I decided to inspect his attire. He wore a pair of smokey grey pants with a darker grey dress shirt and black blazer over top. He looked ethereal, and I noticed that he had dyed his hair black, that vibrant red now a memory forever carved inside of my mind. It took several seconds of staring before I realised I wasn't breathing, exhaling suddenly as I turned back to looking in the mirror to adjust in the uncomfortable fabric.

"I don't understand why all this matters. He is already dead, it's not like he will see what I wear." Jimin rolled his eyes, walking up behind me to adjust my collar. I couldn't help but hold my breath as his delicate fingers rested so close to my skin, but he was careful to touch the fabric without placing pressure on my body. I wished the pain could be barricaded by clothing, but I had learnt that it was less about the touch and more about the pressure. Jimin clearly remembered that, fingers seeming to glide as he put every crease into place.

Told you you did it wrong.
Shut up.

Jimin smiled, flattening my collar into place.

"There. Now you're ready. It's respect Taehyung, something you need to learn." I kicked his calf as he walked away. To my own detriment since it created more pain for me than it did for him. With an amused smirk, Jimin watched as I collapsed to the bed, fingers pressing against my foot in hopes that it would relieve some of the pain. "Why does it sometimes hurt more?" I shrugged, looking down at the gloves still warming my hands.

"Never worked that out." That was a lie, I knew why. My mind was running rampant around how beaufiful Jimin was, mind darting through memories from seven years ago when my entire life revolved around this boy. The boy I had ruined. I wasn't about to admit that the sensitivity built the closer I became to failure.

"You always were a terrible liar," Jimin scoffed, my eyes squeezing shut as he took pride in my suffering. "Hurry up, Yoongi is waiting for us."

---

We stepped out of the car onto the familiar drive way that was missing the signature black porshe. I couldn't prevent the shudder that hit every bone in my body. The entire house seemed void of life, garden died out from summer heat and no rain, webs strung across the door with creatures excited freedom that there was no one to disturb the front door. Eight days. The house had been empty for eight days.

We didn't go through the front door, instead taking the side gate around to the back garden where Seokjin and Namjoon had spent the morning decorating it with white roses. My fingers grazed over them as we passed, catching on a thorn but I didn't pull away, letting the blood trickle down onto the rose in a silent tribute.

I was gonna be sick, stomach so incredibly twisted that I didn't dare open my mouth in fear that bile would replace words. A hand rested against my shoulder, lifting my gaze from the reddened rose to see Hoseok's kind eyes. He squeezed my shoulder and nodded his head in silent understanding, pulling me from the turmoil.

"I want you to meet someone." I swallowed the lurch that threatened my insides, unable to say no. So I let Hoseok guide me to two new figures seated at the front of the makeshift aisles where at the centre was a bench with flowers and a picture that instantly brought tears to my eyes.

Meeting the parents already? How forward of you!
Not funny.

I shuddered when their eyes looked up at me, mind spiralling when I locked onto the familiar crescent shape of his father's eyes. Pathetically and without warning, I began to cry. Mixed with sniffles and bitten back sobs, I felt the tears pour down as the man held out a hand for me to shake. I shook my head, stepping away and dropping back in shame.

"Thank you for being here," his mother spoke kindly.

I killed him. I did this. I let him die because I was so stupid. Fuck why did he have to find me?! How did he find me? All of this could have been avoided if I had cut him off sooner! I shouldn't have come here. I was meant to run away this morning. Why am I still here? Why didn't I run?

Before they could say anything else I spun around and headed for the seat furthest away from them, curling up on the chair and burying my head in my hands. And I stayed like that without a change, no matter what anyone tried saying to me. As soon as the attention was off me I would run. Yes that's it, I'll leave here and never come back. I'll wait five months and there'll be someone else and it will be like this never happened...

---

The time ticked on, and Hoseok refused to take his eyes off of me. His unwavering care was infuriating as I glanced toward the exit of the garden every few minutes in hopes that this time my courage would materialise and I could get away. Instead I sat here listening to the heavy words of love, feeling like the entire place had been smothered in my mother's perfume.

When Jungkook's parents were called up to speak I couldn't help watching them. Their hands were clasped tightly together as his father spoke, his mother attempting to but unable to make it past a few words. I paid no attention to the eulogy, focusing on their actions. I felt sorry for them.

"I'm going to invite one of Jungkook's close friends up to speak. Taehyung?" I looked up at the mention of my name realising I should have already left by now.

You're slow.
I'm sorry, why didn't you warn me?
Because this is going to be amusing.
I have to talk about Jungkook dying. What's so amusing about that?
Nothing...

With every set of eyes now on me that hope of escaping evaporated, and I was pressured into standing. So I made my way slowly to the front of the garden set up, turning to face the small crowd in front of me.

Breathe.

For once he offered something helpful as I took a deep breath in, realising the immense lack of oxygen I had been working with. Every nerve felt like it was on fire as I stared distantly around the garden, trying to think of words to describe anything that could make this end quickly. Just get it over with and get out of here.

"I..." that was all I could manage, fingers trembling inside my pockets. "I -" my eyes widened when my diverted stare focused on someone leaning up against the side of the house, stomach plummeting into Tartarus when I realised they were wearing that same bone chilling black mask. The moment my eyes set on them they fled, down the side of the house towards the front door, vanishing out of sight. "I'm sorry!" I shrieked to the few watching in empathetic worry, darting down the centre of the aisle as I dashed inside through the back door and ran toward the front of the house. Hopefully I could cut them off before they got away.

Before I even made it to the front entrance, I heard the doorbell echo through out the house. It was a strange thing to hear as my footsteps faltered, managing to see the silhouette of a man behind the frosted glass of the door. As I approached the door, heart screaming in my ears, I grabbed the doorknob and twisted but didn't pull.

Stop with the suspense and open it.
What if they kidnap me?
Pfft, they'd return you real quick.

I rolled my eyes and yanked the door open. I was unable to filter the scream that eacaped when I met the person's piercing and unsettling stare.

"You look nice."

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