cold feet [1]

forty three

jimin's point of view

Following the confession, the two of us sat in silence, watching the sun's slow rise with a rush of a tepid breeze that settled over our skin. I wanted to do more, say more, anything to make Jungkook feel better. But I knew that was not possible. Not with the way this feeling drowns you, chained to the ocean floor, suspended in a suffering long after the initial torture.

Maybe it was that shared understanding of pain that made it easier to sit in silence, no need for gushing worry that came across as overbearing. I found a bitter-sweet comfort in the way Jungkook now understood my pain, my rage rationalised in a sick sort of way.

"Oh thank god you found him." I looked up to see Yoongi running up the stairs with a grimace that resembled a wounded child. Seeing us on the balcony sent a relief through him and brought his shoulders back to where they were meant to be. He approached the door and rested himself against the frame, looking over at Jungkook still set on watching the rise of a sun so far away. "Kook you need to tell someone where you're going. I thought V had done something to you again." At the mention of the blonde, Jungkook's face fell. He turned away and pulled the blanket tighter around him until he was cocooned in that reflection of yellow warmth.

"What's going to happen to him?" Jungkook asked quietly.

"Who? Taehyung?" I asked, confused as to why Jungkook was suddenly worrying about the blonde. He gave a slow nod to confirm my confusion. "What do you mean What will happen to him?"

"He's still dying."

"Let him." Again... probably a bit harsh. But fucked if I care, he deserved to rot in hell for the way he treated my best friend.

"I can't do that," he spoke with a longing that could be viewed as pitiful. Instead it came across as a deep sorrow. "Even if he did this to me, it's my fault he's dying, he has every right to be mad." Was it the curse playing with his mind? Convincing him that Taehyung was some saint that could be fixed with some tender love and care?

"No Kook, he doesn't have the right to abuse you, he doesn't have the right to tear into your skin and leave marks that'll never heal. None of this is your fault. You are just an unfortunate toy -" I immediately regretted using that word, slipped in a jumble of that animosity.

"Toy? You think I'm a toy?" His voice was shaken and he trembled violently.

"No, Jungkook that's not what I meant." I looked to Yoongi for help, but he gave none, instead a disappointed frown that once again I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "Look, Jungkook. What I'm trying to say is you are being manipulated. I tried to warn you..."

"How?! How did you try to warn me?!" He stood and pushed on my chest, sending me into the other side of the wall in the confined space. Despite the shove he was still so close. "All you ever did was tell me to get away from him. You gave no reasons, no evidence that he was the person you made him out to be." Before I could blink he had ripped my shirt down to reveal the top of my chest. Then he pressed his hand to the place where V had marked me. "Yet, here it was all along." I shuddered under the seething rage that flooded his tone. I felt ashamed that I'd riled him up again, pushed him to the edge. "You've done nothing but make this worse for me. You're as bad as he is!" Each syllable crackled under the pressure of his strained voice, hand tearing away from me so he could fall back against the glass railing of the balcony. There was a madness in his eyes, the way he darted his head around in search of something, an escape from everything. I tried to step forward and hold out a hand to him,

"Jungkook..." As I had thought, he jumped up onto the edge, holding onto the roof and staring down at the drop.

"Fuck Kook, get away from there!" Yoongi finally stepped in, pushing past me to grab for the unstable boy now balancing on the thin railing that looked down upon a three story drop. Yoongi screamed his name and reached for him as I stood paralysed by my own panic. We were too slow.