cryptic [taekook]

fourth

he trudges through the woods with a careless stumble, converse clad feet caked with earth tripping over each other as if they refused to acknowledge taehyung's brain's wishes.

warm, honey skin that looked as if the sun had peppered loving kisses all over his body. lips the color of peonies stretched into a happy smile shaped like a rectangle and pearly teeth.

taehyung's snow colored lips, tinted with the smallest hint of cold baby blue, parts as ragged breaths escape his battered lungs that crave more air than he could gulp down. a thin layer of glistening sweat covers paper skin, fragile and devoid of color, the warmth and life sucked out of him as if a vampire had fed on him.

confident and tall strides with steps lighter than a feather, as delicate as glass, precise as a sniper aiming to wipe out a target, as elegant as a woman gliding against the floor and sweeping across the room with her billowing, beautiful dress. lean body dressed in clean and even extravagant clothes.

he limps ahead, seeking the lights of the city to greet and guide him to where he needed to go, to get help, to get to his love. his jeans are torn but not for fashion, simply because the denimn had been through a journey that hadn't shown a shred or sliver of kindness, causing his pale skin to sting from the frigid air. a white button up shirt, collar wild and one side almost sticking straight up, torn and tainted at his thin stomach with dried, burgundy blood buried under the layers of brown dirt staining the once pristine shirt that hangs from his body.

his eyes were a heater, radiating warmth and filling whatever room he was with it when it got too cold, too lonely, too painful. but his eyes were the night sky, cool crisp air along with it, in his eyes were sparkling, glimmering, full of hope and wonder as if someone had stolen the strangely magnificent orbs of light and placed them in those undeniably pretty chestnut eyes.

his eyes posesses not the spark of a shining star placed perfectly in the dark blanket of night, nor do they hold the warmth of a dozen heaters that took lonely evenings and shaped, morphed, them into warm and lighthearted nights. one might think that they hold almost nothing, dull brown eyes staring into a void of nothing intently, at first one might even think that they hold as much life as a pig's skeleton. but no, there's a burning glow to his eyes, filled with a desperation that was almost pitiful.

he needs to get home, home, home.

"i need to get to jungkook, jeon jungkook."