rose ≛ taekook

[20]

for taehyung, it is such an effort to try and convince himself to get up— because of those dark thought that always linger in his mind:

why is here?

what is his purpose?

it's hard to look in the mirror, it's like making eye contact with a stranger. he hates it.

he's been cutting recently, he doesn't know why. it was so tempting to do—and it feels nice? no it doesn't, it doesn't feel good at all.

he hasn't been feeding himself well, either.

but when he occasionally does, he throws the contents back up.

his room is eerily cold— he doesn't know what to do.

his grandma is clearly concerned, taking him to the therapist more frequently.

the therapist didn't effect anything.

all he asked is "what happened at school?" which taehyung would politely decline speaking of, so the therapist would ask him another question, "how do you feel?".

he would rather vent to someone who is looking forward to hearing him speak— he sounded robotic, as if trained to say those pointless words over and over again.

there he was, in language arts, writing his rather depressing poetry as a class assignment.

the teacher was silently grading the other poetry assignments, pausing for a moment.

"taehyung, can you come here, please?" his teacher asked, no emotion brimming his voice.

he reluctantly got up, cringing at his chair screeching against the dull floor.

"yes, mr. v?" he replied in a quiet voice.

"well, i was grading your poetry," he put on his glasses, looking back at taehyung's paper. "which is indeed, gorgeous. kind of, well, y'know, concerned? because i know it's about a fear you have, but i don't think it's appropriate for school. the gore part would be unnecessary."

taehyung kept a pokerface the whole time. "isn't-isn't it supposed to be a little gruesome? it's-it's about an object that would inflict pain, i just thought of it randomly." he lied.

"well, yeah...but— i'm just kind of concerned, like, is everything at home okay? are-are you okay?" his teacher replied, obviously nervous.

"oh, don't worry— just for the project, yeah."

"alright, you can sit down now," he handed the poetry piece to taehyung. "edit it."

as usual, no one was satisfied with all of the hard work taehyung had done.

this time, when jeongguk flipped him off, taehyung gave him a long, eerie, emotionless stare, enough for his "friends" to back away.

"woah there buddy," jeongguk spoke mockingly.

when he looked at jeongguk, his once friendly, soft gaze was replaced with a cold one.

"please...stop." he managed to speak, his voice cracking slightly.

taehyung humiliated himself.

he ran and ran and ran, until he felt like he couldn't breathe.

he doesn't know where he is—but he's not too far away from home. he can tell from the familiar surrounding, but he is so sick and tired of everything and everyone.

so, there taehyung was, on the ground, crying his pathetic life out.