𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱

ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡ ⓣⓦⓔⓝⓣⓨⓝⓘⓝⓔ

He had barely cleaned up his mess. The body had been ditched by him in a river in those garbage bags Taehyung would use. He wondered how much time it would take before her body was found. He had not stepped back into that apartment for a whole week after that. He had spent his last pennies on run down motel rooms and booze, drinking away the pain, the aching feeling that perforated his chest.

He took a bite of the cooled off pancake, munching slowly. He was not hungry, but he took a couple of bites in to make her happy. He did not like to ser her worried; he never had. It only reminded him of his own fucked up mother, who would come visit him at the meetings with the social worker still drugged up. She was worried about him she said, wondering if his foster family was treating him well. If only she had known.

She would bring him toys and drawings his siblings had done. He remembered how he had never touched one single thing she had given him. His child eyes had forgotten about her, about how absent she had been, about how awful of a mother she was. To him, she was but a stranger trying to lure him away from his new family.

His foster family had its up and downs. When the father did not drink, usually all went well. When he did, however, indulge in his hard liquor, everyone felt his anger. He would beat the kids relentlessly with his hands, his belt, and many other objects that should never be used against a defenseless child. Jungkook had been his favorite victim. The numerous scars on his body were proof of that.

He surprised himself when he finished the plate unconsciously. He had not eaten a full meal in who knows how long. He had lost so much weight he barely fit into any of his clothes anymore. Everything looked baggy on him and he had to buckle his belt extra tight now. He simply did not have an appetite. As much as he tried to eat, he was always reminded of how Taehyung would cook for him, and he would suddenly lose all appetite.

He hated how every little thing reminded him of Taehyung. He saw him in everything he looked at, heard his voice in every public place he went to. He felt him when the wind flowed through his hair, when the warm water hit his skin in the shower.

Why had he left? Why was he gone without saying a word, abandoning him in a world he could not even handle anymore? Taehyung had been his reason to live for the past months… Now that he was gone; what was he supposed to do? He hated himself for being so dependent on someone, but he could not deny the reality of it all. He loved Taehyung. More than anything. He loved him to death. He loved every single thing about him, from the way he kissed his forehead to the way he would torture his victims. His love for him was intoxicating, overwhelming. Unhealthy, even.

And now he had nothing. He was alone, once again. Alone in a world he had feared his whole life, in a world he felt he did not belong to. He remembered that night when he had first met Taehyung. That night, he had hoped that his wounds would finally give him the sweet release of death. Then, he had hoped for the man wielding a blade to pierce his heart, to end it once and for all. However, he had not listened to his plea. It was a sign. It had to be… right?

He had given his all to Taehyung. He had exposed himself to a world he never thought he would witness, let alone participate in. Taehyung had changed him in so many ways that he probably had not noticed. He knew Taehyung could not love him back the way he wanted to be loved, but that was okay. He had accepted it. He would have taken anything this man would have given to him. In those last days, however, he knew something had clicked inside of Taehyung’s mind. That last time they had laid together, he had done it with love. He had embraced him and caressed him delicately, enveloped him with his arms, squeezed his body so close there was no space between them. They had given into one another in a way they had never before. They connected.

He burst out in tears and left his pocket change on the counter before storming out, ignoring the woman’s shouts behind him. He ran down the street, snow collecting in his hair and on his skin, cooling down his red cheeks. He stared at the night sky as if it would bring answers to the questions burning inside of his mouth and stabbing at his heart. He wished he would slip and fall on his head. He prayed a car would run him over as he crossed the street.

He could not hold it in anymore. He wanted to scream, cry, spit, punch, anything that would let this sadness and anger out of him. He felt so helpless, just waiting for him to come back. He wanted to go out and look for him across the city, the state, the country. All he wanted was to see his face again, to feel his touch, to hear his voice. Was that too much to ask? He yelled as he punched into a wall, crushing and bruising his knuckles. He did not mind the physical pain. If anything, it made him feel alive. He punched and punched until his knuckles cracked and his fingers could not move anymore. He continued running after.

He ran into a group of guys, shoving them out of the way. One of them called out to him, cursing at him, but he continued going forward. He felt a strong grip on his wrist and was turned around by force, only for a fist to meet his face. Seems like my wish will be granted, he thought to himself, smiling. He punched the guy back with all the strength he had left, sending him into the wall, hoping it would be enough for them to beat him to death. His friends ganged up on Jungkook, pushing him down on the ground, punching and kicking at every limb they could see.

He prayed to all the gods out there that he would die. He wanted it to end now. He was sick of suffering, sick of being sad, sick of missing someone who had disappeared from his life too quickly and without a word. He was done with living. There was nothing left for him in this mad world. If he could not live a life with Taehyung, he did not want to live at all.

He heard screaming and felt something warm drip on him. He looked between his hands only to see to see the throat of the man over him being slit open by a dagger. He gagged at the sight of it, pushing himself back in horror, blinking multiple times to make sense of what was happening. He watched as a tall figure stood in the middle of the four lifeless men who had just assaulted him on the ground. His heart beat faster, too fast, making him dizzy. He shook his head and pushed himself away with his hands scraping on the concrete sidewalk, heaving. Tears flowed down his cheeks as his gaze crossed the man’s.