Destin [ON HOLD]

F O U R T E E N

Taehyung's POV.

My heart is heavy after I see the members having dinner without me.

Even Jungkook.

He is smiling without any care of his crying hyung who is watching sadly across the street.

I can't believe I had thought that maybe, just maybe, he felt genuinely sorry for treating me like he had. I had been so wrong.

I had been the dumb blonde in the group, an American man had even once told me that.

And I hated it.

I hated being the 'dumb blonde' of the group. I wanted to be the best in something. Anything.

I wanted to appreciated.

But the thought is even laughable. The members would probably pummel down the dream before I could even speak out loud my ideas.

They always stopped me from doing well in something. I wasn't sure why, but a part of me loathed them for it. For stopping me from reaching my goals.

I remember when I had written a song for the band, and had been absolutely delighted to present it to the others. When I had shown them they had turned up their noses at the song, tossed it carelessly in the bin and added in a few colourful comments to both me and the lyrics. A few weeks later, however, the song was published and labeled under Yoongi's name.

I had thought it was a mistake.

Now however I feel as though they had it had been done on purpose. I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding harshly together as I walk down the streets, eyes set heavily on the signs that would lead me to the house.

It was never my home.

It had never felt like a home.

The place was just a house where I would have to fulfil my needs. A place where I was forced to stay.

The anger towards the members consume me now.

What have I ever done to them? I had never acted with harshness nor spoken ill of any of them so why, why did they hate me so much.

No, no. They love you. V drawls sarcastically. Honestly Taehyung, what's there to not hate?

I can't help but let the tears that I have been so desperately holding in fall.

I am not enough.

I was never enough.

I will never be enough.

I am always the second choice. The boy that lingered in the background, hoping to be noticed. The member who was only appreciated for his looks, and teased for his alien-like personality. The extra baggage.

I was never wanted. Not even needed.

Choked sobs tumble from my lips, silvery liquid tricking down my cheeks as proof of my breakdown. My body is quivering like a leaf in the raging storm, and every step is a struggle.

I want to be back in my bed. In my own room because of the members absolute disgust to share one with me. I wanted to be in the stone like surface of the bed with the equally hard pillow, paired with the thin sheets that were little help during the icy winters.

I never complained though.

I never complained after seeing the other's fluffy pillows, large quilts or queen beds. I never complained after being handed a bowl of cold cereal while the others were fed grand meals that I could only dream of having.