Taekook Oneshots

This is me

I'm not a stranger to the dark
Hide away, they say
'Cause we don't want your broken parts

"Shut up, kid! You're clearly not okay in the head, so just fuck off already before I punch some sanity into you! Would you prefer that!?"
"No sir, I'm willing to leave without a fight," Taehyung mumbles nervously, heading for the exit of the pub before somebody either rips his clothes off or beats him to a pulp. He's used to this, the constant wandering around to find somewhere to belong, but the endless rejection is getting tiring. And he's beginning to despair.

It's his choice of what he wants to wear, that's probably the problem. He prefers to wear the feminine things, put on a little makeup. He just wants to think of himself as beautiful, and that sort of thing just makes him feel better about himself. But nobody ever seems to respect that sort of attitude towards what he wants to wear.

Everyone always tries to bring him down, calls him a multitude of names that rip into his heart, tear down his self confidence until there's nothing else left.

I've learned to be ashamed of all my scars
Run away, they say
No one will love you as you are

He sits there, on a kerb at three am on the coldest night of the year so far, watching the drunks stumble out of that same pub, holding each other and laughing raucously at him, pointing and staring. He looks down at his knees, at the flowing material of his skirt, wondering what is so wrong with him. For a moment, he lifts the hem up to peek at his tanned, smooth thighs, at the small scars that sit there.

Memories of slightly more unpleasant reactions to his attire.

He shudders at the thought, lifting his head to glance around at the world that's passing him by, and tears fill his eyes at the images of his family kicking him out of the house for not being masculine enough. For being gay. For being himself.

It still hurts, three months on.

But I won't let them break me down to dust
I know that there's a place for us
For we are glorious

"Hey, are you okay?"

The gentle sound of a melodic voice snaps Taehyung out of his trance, and he jumps in surprise at the sight of a young boy with jet black hair and expressive almond shaped eyes. The stranger's skin is pale and unblemished, and he's wearing a baggy shirt underneath his black leather jacket, ripped and faded blue jeans covering his legs like a second skin, brown timberlands on his feet.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the stranger says softly, apologetically. "I'm Jungkook, I'm nineteen. What's your name? How old are you?"

When the sharpest words wanna cut me down

"I'm Taehyung. I'm twenty one. And I think everyone will judge you if you talk to me."
"I don't care what anyone thinks. I'm an individual. Why should their opinion matter to me?"
"It would when everyone calls you a freak," Taehyung says bitterly, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them in tightly.

I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out

"Why would you be a freak?" Jungkook asks, sounding genuinely baffled. "You're beautiful."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not," the younger male insists, "come on, you shouldn't be outside in this cold. You'll freeze to death out here."

"I don't care. Maybe then I'll actually look pretty," Taehyung says darkly, and Jungkook frowns, making a decision in his mind.
"Stand up," he orders gently without explanation, offering a hand to help the elder up.