𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱

ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡ ⓣⓗⓘⓡⓣⓨ

"I see you're still chasing after death," the man said, his voice low.

Jungkook gulped as he sobbed loudly, his aching heart making it hard for him to breathe. The past months flew by quickly in his mind, recollecting every little piece of detail; a scene one would expect to see before they died. Jungkook thought his mind was playing tricks on him, that maybe he had died already and this is what waited for him on the other side. He must have gone to Hell for this to be what he met on the other side.

"I didn't leave for you to get killed," he spat, angry.

There he was. His Angel of Death. Coming to bring him to Hell, where he would forever be burdened with the bad decisions he made throughout his life. He asked himself if he would plead to go to Heaven, arguing that he was put in those bad situations, that he could have been good with other life circumstances. He knew he could have been normal, been a good citizen if it were not for his traumatic upbringing. If only he had not had a drug addict of a mother and an absent father, a foster home that beat him and did not care for him; then maybe he could have been good.

"Get up."

The Angel, his imposing black feather wings extended behind him, leaned down and reached out to him, hand forward. Jungkook shook his head and slapped it away from him. He was not ready to go. He took back what he said about wanting to die. He had to see his face at least one last time before going. That was all he wanted. After that, sure, he could die peacefully. He just needed to know. Know if he was alive, if he was well, why he had left him... Please, let me live, Jungkook begged in his head, hoping someone would hear his prayer. He could have asked for anything in that moment, really, but there was only one thing on his mind. One person.

The Angel grabbed his wrist by force, pulling him up. Jungkook fought back with the minimal strength he had left in his body, barely strong enough to bother the firm hands that gripped him. He could not even feel his right hand; his broken fingers hung loosely on his hand. Yet, he still tried to use it to push him away. He was forced to stand up on his shaking legs by the spirit. No matter how much he tried to liberate himself from his hold, nothing worked. He looked away, still crying loudly, hoping someone would come and save him.

"Jungkook, look at me," the Angel begged, his voice cracking.

His voice. He wondered what bad he did to deserve such punishment from the gods, to be tormented by the face of his lost love, to be haunted by his soul stirring voice, to be tormented by the scent of his cologne. The Angel's hands cupped Jungkook's face, forcing him to look forward. He closed his eyes, not ready to face death yet, doing all he could to push it away.

"Let me go, please, I have to find him," Jungkook cried.

"Open your eyes!" the man yelled impatiently.

So he did. His eyes fluttered open, snowflakes falling from his eyelashes and melting on his warm cheeks. As much as it hurt him to see his face, he smiled. Maybe it was not the real him, yes, but at least it was his face. His bright eyes. His pretty nose. His pink lips. His soft cheeks. His fluffy brown hair. He smiled like he had when he was with him, tears collecting in the folds of his smile. The Angel leaned in and brushed his lips against Jungkook's softly, barely enough to call it a kiss. Their breaths tickled one another, warming their skin in the cold winter night.

"At least I get to feel him," Jungkook whispered, looking down at the Angel's lips.

"Jungkook. I'm real. It's me. Taehyung," the man whispered, frowning, not understanding what was going on.

Snowflakes fell from the sky and onto the intertwined lovers, slowly covering them and the ground around. It was truly a beautiful sight. It was the first snow of the season, big white snowflakes calmly fell on the city, making the grey, dull buildings brighten. People had already started putting their Christmas lights up; the colorful bulbs stained the snow in a rainbow of hues charmingly, sure to make any passerby smile in glee. Winter was a season loved and hated by many. It had its ups and downs, the festivities being the principal quality. Some people enjoyed the cool wind biting at their cheeks and the tips of their nose, the sight of fresh, untouched snow on pavement, whereas others simply hated the cold and yearned for the warm summer to come back quickly. For some, the cold season represented death: nature fawned and went back to the soil, landscapes almost turned to black and white. To others, it meant rebirth; the cycle of life. What dies will come back blooming; as a phoenix rises from the ashes.

Jungkook stared at the brown eyes that looked back at him. His unbruised hand raised to touch the soft skin of the man that stood in front of him, the back of his fingers gliding across his cheek. His thumb brushed across his bottom lip, gliding along every bump and crack. It moved to his hair, his fingers losing themselves in the familiar silky locks, pushing the longer strands behind his ear. He caressed his ear, bumping along the usual earrings, to reach to his neck. His finger pushed the neck of his shirt to the side, trailing across his collarbone.

"It's you," he choked, mesmerized by him.

Taehyung carried Jungkook in the apartment, kicking the unlocked door open. He noticed thick dust covering the entirety of the room and wondered how long it had been empty of inhabitants. He swallowed when he entered their bedroom, noticing all of his own clothes in the bed, on the floor, spread throughout the room. There were empty bottles of alcohol, cigarette butts and tissues at the edge of the bed. Taehyung's eyes looked around, his chest tightening at the sight of all this misery. He knew what had happened in this room, and it tore his heart apart.