Facade

Bedlam

bed·lam
/ˈbedləm/

a scene of uproar and confusion.
"there was bedlam in the courtroom"

——

Jungkook frowned as I slowly approached him. The area was loud with police sirens going off and people talking about the apprehended person. He was there sitting at the hood of a police car with an ice pack on his head.

He was frowing at me before standing up. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried, nobody knows you're here. If something bad happened... how are you?"

He was traumatized, I could tell from his trembling hands that the incident took its toll on him. His face still reeks of fear.

"Do want me to call Jinri? Just to let her know you're safe." I said when he refused to talk.

His eyes looked down on his feet, intending to hide the tears forming in his eyes. "Don't... don't tell her."

"Jungkook..." I said as I started to voice out my disagreement to his decision.

"Jess, don't tell her what happened. Promise me that." He looked at me his eyes begging. When I held his hand, he body started shaking as he broke into tears hugging me.

"All I can think of was her face. That I might not see her again. Her face when she sees me lifeless. I was so scared." He said in between sobs.

The nineteen year old boy I met a year ago was back. Helplessly crying. His need for attention is apparent, seeking emphathy at each sob.

"Do you want to call Jimin instead? Do want him here?" I ask as I rubbed his back.

I felt him shaking his head.

"Sir, we need your testimony for what transpired here. Is it okay if you come to the precinct with us." A police officer told us as they begin to clear out the place.

Jungkook let go of our hug as he wipe his tears and nodded at him.

"I'll drive him there." I told the police officer as he gave a bow and turned around.

"Did you bring a car on your way here?" My hands held his face trying to make him focus. He shakes his head. His eyes started to tear up again.

——

He was speechless on the car. He just stares at the road while his face remains stoic.

His first brush from death clipped his wings.

I held his hands as we walk inside the precinct, letting him borrow confidence from my touch. He welcomed the gesture with a smile and didn't let go even during the time when he had to relived the nightmare he had endured.

He spoke in confidence as the sound of the keyboard answered every words that came out of his mouth. Only the tightening grip of his hand to mine told how it affected him.

I shouldn't be here. It shouldn't be me. I should not be the one accompanying him walk through the dark tunnels of his life.

... I shouldn't be here because I badly need emphathy myself.

——