Beautiful Images ::VHope::

Twink

We've been home from the hospital for about half an hour. Staring at the stitches in TaeHyung's finger, I try not to pay too much mind to how gorgeous his hands are. I think that this boy is a real soulmate contender. I lift my eyes to his face. He's pale, his eyes glazed over. I watch him for a while. He seems to be in his own world. I wonder what he thinks about. If he thinks about me or us romantically. Or if he thinks about wrapping these hands around my neck one more time. Maybe, he thinks of holding me hostage. Or maybe he's thinking about dinner. I look back at his hand, and the way it molds limply against mine as I move it. How easy he is to bend.

I realize that he's probably walking through hell every single day. I know that the monsters he faces never go away, and I know that most of them he will forever face alone. He'll stay trapped within a maze in his head and only death can free him. But that's only assuming death ceases all.

A single tear runs from the corner of his eye. I watch it slide along his nose and down his lips. It dives into oblivion from his chin, never to be seen again. Soon, another follows the firsts path, and yet another marks new territory on his opposite cheek. His face is still stone, the only sign of life coming through raindrops on perfect skin.

He's impossibly beautiful.

"TaeHyung." I whisper, stroking the back of his hand and sit back further on his couch. "Can I take your picture?" I ask. He simply blinks. I grab my phone, turning on the camera, and focusing on his face. I snap a picture just as he closes his eyes. The tears are visible and silent pain screams through the image. As simple as this picture is, it's amazing.

"Tae." I attempt to break through the walls one more time. "You know you can talk to me, right?" He doesn't move or react to me at all. I continue to rub the back of his hand and return my attention to the television for a few moments. I quickly lose interest in the show, and pull my phone out again. I switch the camera to front facing and hold it out at arms length. I put a smile on my face, nudging TaeHyung.

"Smile!" I say and he breaks out of his trance. He looks up towards the camera. His lips are pouty, and I snap the picture anyway. It's a really cute picture and it makes me believe we'd be a really cute couple. I mentally roll my eyes at that thought. He sighs, running his hands down his face. Whatever his inner turmoil was over, he seems to be better.

"Ho-Hoseok." He says my name quietly. He takes a deep breath before continuing. "Will-will you go on-a on-a on-a date with me-me?" 

My eyes widen. His face turns into a deep red. His breathing is shallow and timid. I can feel my face reacting similarly to his. I've never actually been asked on a date. Maybe a quick fuck in the club toilets, or maybe even a blowjob in an alley. I've been asked to, and complied to, do these things. A date where we eat dinner and talk about ourselves? A date where maybe I will be able to keep my pants on? Never.

"Yes."

"I-I-I can take you-you-you," he stops talking and takes a breath. I hate seeing him struggle to speak.

"Take me out tomorrow night? Let's say seven?" I ask. He nods; I stand up. "I guess you'll be picking me up at seven. See you then."

--------

"Hoe, I just don't understand." NamJoon holds his printed final copy in his hands. "You are going on a date with him? The mentally unstable man who choked you?"

"Yes." I reply. I hold different shirts in front of me as I stand in the mirror. I don't know what to wear.

"Okay, but why?" NamJoon stands up, selecting a shirt for me. "I just don't think this is a good idea. You remember YoonGi and-."

"Joon, I worked very hard to not think about that time in my life. So please stop bringing it up."

"Okay, but he ra-."

"Shut up!" I scream, holding my hands over my ears. "I know! I know! I know!"

"Not enough to stop sleeping with him." He mumbles. I glare at him. I know that it's wrong to let YoonGi use me after what he did. I know that, really. But I can't stop. I'm really great at being a toy for guys to use. I'm so good at it, in fact, that I hold every harsh memory in my brain to keep myself compliant the next time. Tears sting in my eyes, but now isn't the time to cry.

"Maybe TaeHyung can be my reason to stop being with YoonGi. Maybe he-."

"Maybe he'll try to do it, too."

"He can't even button his own shirt how would be able to-."

"He choked you!" He shouts. His paper drops from his hands and scatters on the floor. He stares into my eyes. His height scares me a little, and I feel my breath catching in my throat. My chest is collapsing with the weight of his stare; my hands shaking as the hold tightly to the hem of my shirt. I want to close my eyes, to scared to keep looking at NamJoon. I'm also too scared to look away. So my gaze stays locked with his. I can't move my legs, regardless of how weak they feel. The floor is turning to ocean; each wave buckling my knees. NamJoon hates me. He hates me. He hates how stupid I am. I mentally abuse myself, the words taking on the personality of a million people.

You're so stupid. So dumb. Such a worthless whore. You would like a man who chokes you, you fucking cunt. What's wrong with you? This is why YoonGi did this to you. You're nothing and will never be anything. TaeHyung will do the same. And you will lie down and take it like the dumb bitch you are.

"Hoseok?" NamJoon asks in a much gentler voic. My vision blurs. He steps even closer, and holds onto my arms to give me support. The feeling of his touch sends a painful shudder up my back. The feeling of his touch moves from my arms, his fingers gliding down to the waistline of my pants. I take a sharp breath. No.

"Please don't." I blink my eyes rapidly to clear my vision. NamJoon's hands are still on my arms, they never left. YoonGi's hand is over my mouth, it never left. TaeHyung's hands are around my neck, they never left. The last breath rushes from my shrinking lungs. A pathetic sort of attempt at breathing sends a wave of terror through my chest.

"Hoseok; it's okay." NamJoon's voice multiplies in my head, shouting at me from every angle. His words mean nothing. My legs buckle, my vision turning to a peaceful black. I'm out before I hit the floor. I'm only out for a few seconds. When I come to, I'm on my knees. NamJoon's face is strangely close to mine; his hands hooked under my arms. My head pounds.

"HoSeok." He says softly. I mumble to him, my mind still a little hazy. "What happened? I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have been so aggressive." He lifts me back onto my feet. I shake my head. "Or brought up... It was wrong of me."

"It's okay."

"I just care so much. And I don't want you getting hurt over another guy." He runs his hand along his chin. "Plus I don't think I can handle spending another night locked up. I'm not sure I can get hired with two assault charges against me."

"It's okay." I repeat. The last bit of dizziness fades away, and I change into the shirt NamJoon picked. "Do I look okay?"

"A little pale, but yes, you do." He replies with a somber sort of tone. "Just please be careful. Don't let him touch you."

I stay quiet and seated on my bed. My nerves feel shot. NamJoon makes me a tea before resorting his dropped essay. The silence in the room is thick and heavy. I feel as though NamJoon will only care for so long. I suppose it seems as though I am defying his judgement on purpose. Maybe I am. He's a protector and guardian; I'm hazardous and destructive. Those two mix well, but only for so long. I understand his fears, but I still forgive TaeHyung for hurting me. I still believe there is greatness between us. The doorbell rings, and my protector os the first one to answer it.