Destin [ON HOLD]

T W E N T Y - F O U R

Taehyung's POV.

I watch with hooded eyes, the red spilling over the ever-so-pure white. The innocent. The clean. The perfect.

The opposite of me.

But it's beautiful in a way.

The plush crimson dancing against the tiles that remain silent yet watchful, the soft touch of the paintbrush smearing its red over them.

I don't feel anything.

I don't feel the stinging that mingles over the skin of my stomach and arms.

I don't feel the blood trickling down my arm and dropping to the floor with a hushed hit.

I don't feel. And I like that.

I like the sense emptiness. Of numbness.

Of nothing.

It's a break from the chaos I live through outside. Outside of this bathroom that is smeared in the smell of apple scented shampoo.

A ghost of a smile flickers over my lips, eyes hooded as they run down hanging stomach that had once been clean from the lines that now litter the pale skin.

It's so ugly.

It's what I deserve. The sudden urge to rip away every layer of skin against my bones, flickers at my gut.

I didn't see a point anymore. A point to endure the torture of this world. This cruel, cruel world.

Nothing good came out of this world. It was only a game of chess.

There were the Kings and Queens that rule over the others, the very life of the other pieces clutched firmly in their fists.

The rooks, bishops and knights sacrificing their lives for the long life of their King and Queen, at their utter command, offered little reward for their achievements.

And last and very least were the pawns. The ones who were at their rule's mercy, tossed from side to side as if they were simply a dirty rag. They weren't considered as an individual nor being.

They were just there.

A mist in the cries of war between white and black. A sacrifice of blood that none would take highly too. A feeble play at win, almost always never being one to aid their kingdom to victory.

But even then, I would not be anywhere close to the standards of prawn. I lay feet below their fading line, feeble hands reaching upwards in pleads as the black of the hole sucks me in.

I am nothing.

__________________

"Tae! Wake up! Tae c'mon!"

It's the pleading tone of the voice that urges me to slowly open my heavy eyes, strong hands gripping my shoulders gently as they shook me.

Jungkook is standing over me, expression of utter stress as he places a warm hand against my lower back, aiding me to stand straight upon the bed.

He's dressed in washed jeans that are ripped excessively at the knees, paired with a black hoodie, a faint smell of after shave wafting in the air as he inches his face near mine.