cold feet [1]

thirty nine

jimin's point of view

Watching him fall through the stages of grief was heartwrenching. To see him gasp for breath through tears that reflected the suffering of his own making. He was so in love with Jungkook that it was costing him his life. A curse created to punish him to an insufferable end. The son of Love who was destined to die by its hands.

I felt selfish sitting here trying to comfort him whilst I knew Jungkook should be in my place. This was wrong of me to try and ground him back to earth when it was not me who had helped him fly.

But to ask Jungkook to come back here after Taehyung had tried to strangle him? I couldn't see that going well. The boy was so fragile, the opposite of the son of Venus in that he had never felt love. His existence did not revolve around the feeling, and he had never been able to share it with anyone, not even his own parents.

It was a fight between a boy destined to love, and one who didn't even know what love was. How could there be a resolution?

These thoughts plagued my mind as I watched Taehyung slip in and out of consciousness. Each breath accompanied by his ashamed sobs until eventually the act of crying became too much and he slipped away entirely. My fingers pulled back from his skin, noticing the hives all over his skin that he had not even reacted to. He was not even registering the pain anymore, tortured beyond feeling anything.

In hopes that I could reconcile this before it was too late, I made my way back to where I had left the other half of this anguish, finding Jungkook curled in the same position I had left him in. Sitting down at the edge of the bed caused him to look up from his own internal spiral.

"I spoke to him. He's overrun with guilt." At the mention of the one he feared and craved, he turned away again, gaze settling on the empty wall. "This curse is killing him Jungkook. You and I both know why." He still didn't reply, "Jungkook please he lov-

"Go away." I pursed my lips at the harsh words that interupted my own.

"Jungkook, I'm just trying to -"

"Stop trying!" He howled with a heightened voice that quivered between each syllable. "I don't want you to help me." Even if I hadn't finished my sentence, he still got what I wanted to say.  "I don't want to think about..." his mouth echoed the silent word he refused to materialise into confession. Lips catching on the V that brought the word to its true meaning. The fear of love stronger than the need for it.

"Fine, I won't help you. But you can't hide from your own emotions forever. At least have the decency to acknowledge them." He gave an embittered snarl and turned onto his back, propped up on his arms to stare at me with dull eyes.

"Is he dead yet?" The question was a clear and cruel remark. It made me infuriated that he would even ask such a thing.

"Jungkook!" This time it was my turn to raise my voice. "You shouldn't stoop to his level of coldness. That's a fucked up thing to say, no matter what he has done."  Jungkook rolled his eyes at my response. I knew it was rich coming from me, the person who begged for his death more than anyone. Maybe deep down I still wanted that. An end to this lunacy so that things could feel normal again. But things would never be normal because I knew that Jungkook felt the same away. That if he didn't admit it he would live the rest of his life with an emptiness that could never be filled.

"Love does crazy things." He spoke miserably, eyes fluttering on the first word before he shuffled to the edge of the bed. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" He laughed into the words, a laugh of disgrace at his own actions as he caressed the bruises on his throat.

"Look, Jungkook. He told me that he lashed out, that he said he hated you. I understand you're hurt by that and everything else. But we both know it's not him."