rain » vkook

nine

taehyung misses his flowers. he's spent the entire day with jeongguk and that meant he spent the entire day feeling safe.

he's supposed to be sleeping, and jeongguk is - taehyung can hear the other's steady breaths below him.

jeongguk had insisted that taehyung take the couch and he take the floor. not once did he mention his bedroom, for which taehyung was grateful.

it's late. taehyung knows that. but he still stares at the darkened ceiling, at the undulating shadows. he can't fall asleep.

and he misses his flowers.

he remembers going to a park on a date with his boyfriend, before everything went to shit. the park was near jeongguk's apartment.

so taehyung gets up and throws on a sweatshirt jeongguk had given him. the sleeves hang over his fingertips and he feels safe.

he figures that he can pick some flowers at the park — it's a little cold but it's not winter —and bring them back for jeongguk. they can put them in a vase and set them by one of jeongguk's paintings. he smiles.

taehyung stuffs his feet into his shoes and decides not to leave a note – he'll only be gone for a few minutes and jeongguk's sleeping deeply.

taehyung feels free as he steps outside. the air is a perfect temperature and for once, he isn't afraid of the dark. the walk to the park is short, characterized by his quiet thoughts and peaceful being.

he keeps thinking about jeongguk. about how safe and easy it's been - the entire time he's been at jeongguk's house. but he can't stay forever, can he? he has to leave eventually. he's not some kind of parasite. so as he walks, he pretends he's walking away. away from safety, away from happiness, away from himself, away from jeongguk. he pretends that he's not coming back. he imagines jeongguk waking up the next morning, no note, no explanation, no trace of the boy he had mistaken for the sky. and he imagines that jeongguk will never see him again. that he'll never see jeongguk again.

he can't.

there was something about jeongguk, underneath the fact that this boy had saved him. there was something about jeongguk that implied that he needed saving, too. his movements, his voice, his words that only made sense in his paintings - his paintings - spoke volumes. enough to fill all the world's oceans.

enough to fill the empty space inside taehyung that had been hollowed out. maybe enough to make him forget.

except now he is remembering.

the darkness of the night made him revisit other nights, when he'd stare at his wounds in the mirror and desperately try to think of ways to cover them up. when he'd bite his lip until it bled because his mouth wasn't the only thing spilling red.

his footfalls are so loud.

the street is deserted, the windows of the buildings dark. where are all the cars? he's almost to the park, anyway.

his footfalls are loud, and it's unnerving because he's used to making himself small and quiet - making himself less of a target. but he was always a target, the only target, and all he could do to save himself from further abuse was to lie, to pretend that it wasn't even happening at all.

the only time he could escape was when it rained. and in the rain, he found jeongguk.

a smile works its way to the surface.

taehyung reaches the park and goes straight for the wildflowers next to the gazebo, getting on his hands and knees to pick them. he can't tell what color they are, but he can feel the dirt painting his skin and imagines pale pinks and light blues and bright yellows. he imagines jeongguk's paintings and the lopsided smile that the other would give taehyung.

taehyung hears a noise - like another pair of feet, or maybe two pairs. his head snaps up and he unconsciously tightens his grip on the handful of flowers. when he doesn't hear anything else, he brushes it off and goes back to picking flowers - cursing his heart for not settling down.

while he can't trust his heart with love, he should've at least trusted its instincts.

he hears the footfalls again - definitely more than one pair, and close. he whips around and two figures melt out of the dark right before him.

"did you think you were safe?" asks the brother of taehyung's ex-boyfriend. the friend grins and taehyung whimpers - these two, these two, used to hurt him as well.

he would never be safe.

the struggle that ensues is no less worse than any of the other struggles, and yet, it doesn't seem as bad. it doesn't seem as bad because taehyung is so used to it that even the excruciating pain is almost numb.

and when the struggle is over, all that remains on the silver grass is a crushed handful of wildflowers, petals stained with blood.