𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍, 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍

k . t . h ー ?

LOUD STREETS AND quiet minds did not go together. That is what Taehyung learnt from walking through the hustle and bustle of the rowdy city streets. And so, he instead, would take shortcuts through the infamous alleyways. That were less travelled because of that one reason. They were infamous. It was freezing, even for the boy that played with fire. The winter air was ruthless and harsh as it swept the charcoal-black hair of Kim Taehyung back. He hurriedly walked through the alleyways, legs nimble and quick-paced, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans.

He only kept looking at the ground. He no longer wanted to be known as the boy with fire running through his veins. He wanted to be mundane, to be respected and valued because he deserved it. Not just respected and valued because he was feared. Kim Taehyung did not kill Seokjin, he was anything but a murderer. With the money he had borrowed from Namjoon, he would be able to start a new life. A new him, a real him. Somewhere far away from this place, this hell he lived in.

Taehyung was making his way towards the small home he shared with a few other bodies. Now he called them bodies, because they were soulless. They did everything because they were told to, they held no freedom, no originality, what is a human without a soul? Just a body, a vessel. Taehyung opened the door and entered the house, with every step the house groaned and squeaked, its old walls and structure, hauntingly whispering as the wind whistled past.

Taehyung ignored this and walked straight to his room, which consisted of a mattress with a lone sheet over it on the floor, and a closet, where he kept his clothes. Taehyung packed anything he laid his hands on, mainly clothes, broken books from when Seokjin was teaching him how to read and write in English. Photographs, something that Taheyung had never seen in his life, the others had only laughed and given him every picture they took. He packed the money that was in his pocket and lastly. A framed picture, a picture of him and Yoongi, his beloved. Taehyung stared at the image and slowly dragged a finger over it. He fell to the ground with great, violent sobs. It was always people like him, people like him that were the 'bad guys' when he listened to the stories that Yoongi told him and dreams that Jimin had explained, it was people like Taehyung that were the bad. The evil.

He brought the picture up to his face and pressed it against his forehead. What was all this for? Running? Taehyung took the photograph in the frame out and held it in his hand.

"Everything was my fault, I ruined it," Taehyung ripped the picture in half, he threw his half away, and stuffed the image of Yoongi into the pocket of his jeans. As he took his bag and turned, a muscular and taller man stood in his way. Staring down at Taehyung.

"Where do you think you're going?" He questioned, cracking his knuckles.

"I'm leaving, got a problem with that?" Taehyung retorts, closing in on the man.

"Oh yeah? Then do you want to explain why the police came here this morning?" Taehyung did not have time for this, the police are constantly patrolling this part of the city.

"I don't know, I don't care," Taehyung replied, walking into the lounge room that had empty bottles of alcohol everywhere. A naked women slept peacefully on the couch. Taehyung holds an expression of disgust as he walks past. The coffee table that has cigarette butts and ashes scattered everywhere slowed him down. A certain letter, laying flat on the table, catches his eye. Kim Taehyung, it read, he walks closer to the table and picked the letter up. The muscular man following closely behind his heel.

Taehyung hastily opens it, tears stinging at his eyes.

Taehyung,

I only want to talk to you, here I sit, bloody and beat. And I only want to talk to you. This world we live in is rude, it's unforgiving, the Devil lingers in every corner and sometimes the evil comes from within. I write to you because you are pure. You are innocent and I'm so afraid. I don't know what will happen to me.

That is up to my family to decide.

I love you Kim Taehyung, you are my most valued friend. You are good Kim Taehyung, you are good. I love you, I'm afraid, I'm afraid.

You are innocent, I love you.

Kim Seokjin.

Taehyung could not hold back the tears that were flowing down his cheeks. He felt the distress and worry that Seokjin held. He could've helped him, he could've saved him. Who sent this letter? When did it arrive? He could've saved him. The man behind him grunted. "The police asked about him, Kim Seokjin, what were you doing running around with pretty rich boys?" Taehyung held the letter tight in his hands.

"He is not rich!" He shouts.

"Then gimme this letter!" The man shouts, tugging the letter from Taheyung's hands, his grip was too tight. It tore the letter into two. Taehyung stared at the ripped piece of paper, the letters broken in half.

"You bitch! YOU ABSOLUTE BITCH! YOU ANIMAL!" Taehyung shouts, jumping on the man and pinning him to the ground. "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" With every word that Taehyung spoke, came a blow. Taehyung was small, compared to the man, but strong. He didn't stop, even when blood covered the man's face. Even when that wretched girl on the couch screamed for him to stop. Even when the police barged through the door, searching for him. He only stopped when they pulled him off the man, and even at that point, the man was barely breathing. He was lucky to be alive.

Taehyung was out of breath. Anger roared through his mind, his heart, he was blinded by the wrath he held. But he wasn't deaf to the words that the policeman that held him said, as he handcuffed the younger.

"Kim Taehyung, you are under arrest for the murder of Kim Seokjin-" The rest of the words came out muddled, as if he was under water, drowning.

"No! NO! NO! THE LETTER, LOOK AT THE LETTER!" Taheyung screamed, he tried to reach down, but his hands were cuffed and the policeman held him tight. The letter was doused in blood, the words fading slowly. Taehyung broke into loud cries. "No, no please, I'm not guilty, I didn't kill him, please."

But who would believe him? He thought, who would believe the rebellious? Taehyung was living in slow-motion, everything went dark around him. He was ruined. Dead. He was going to spend his whole life in prison, the life he had wanted to create for himself was gone.

He was caged, his wings broken.

He was Kim Taehyung, the innocent.

? ? ?
fin