𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱

ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡ ⓕⓘⓕⓣⓨⓢⓔⓥⓔⓝ

Jungkook cried as he held Taehyung's face with his blood stained hands, thumb softly yet roughly stroking his cheek. He watched as his honey skin faded to a dull color, as a single stream of blood escaped his lips. He shook his head as a loud sob was torn out of his mouth, eyes blinded by tears. As much as he wanted to push down on the bleeding wound, there was too much that had seeped from it already. It was uncontrollable, unavoidable, as a puddle formed beneath his cooling body. His lover looked back at him, his eyes opening and closing slowly. He heard a third gunshot behind them and jumped at the sound of it, making his own wound throb painfully with the movement, then heard a scream he could only recognize as coming from Yoongi. Everything was crumbling down.

"Jungkook-" Taehyung started, wincing. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... for pulling you into this.... I'm sorry...fuck... for everything..."

Jungkook shook his head as he cried loudly, not understanding what Taehyung was saying. Why was he apologizing? He had done nothing wrong. He had been the only light in his life, the one thing that kept him from ending his miserable life himself. He had been his anchor, his hope and love. No matter what had happened between them, what they had gone through, he was thankful for all of it. Through it all, he had gotten to know and cherish the love of his life.

"No... no, no, baby," he started, his voice shaking. "When we met, you gave me a choice. To me, death was imminent, but I chose to live. Live with you."

Taehyung smiled faintly before his lips turned back into a pout, the pain in his chest too intense to ignore. His blood covered hand reached to stroke Jungkook's face, and he ran his thumb across his bottom lip. His other hand reached for Jungkook's hand that was on his cheek, holding it tightly, feeling the jewel of the ring he had just given him pressing into his palm. They would have been happy together. He was sure of that. They would have went against all odds and lived a happy, fulfilling life.

"I love you," Jungkook whispered before leaving a kiss on the tip of Taehyung's nose.

The man tried to answer, but it was too hard. The pain in his chest had expanded to his whole body, and he could hear his own heartbeat slowing down. It was hard to listen to, but the words he had just heard coming from his lover made it all okay. Taehyung had never been scared of death, but now that he was looking into Jungkook's eyes, he was terrified. If dying meant that he would never get to look into his big brown eyes again, to run his fingers through his chocolate hair or feel his skin against his own, he was more than afraid. He was petrified. All he wanted was another day with him. A day where both of them would be free, without appointments or business, just relinquishing in one another's comforting and loving presence. Spending the day in their bed, staring at each other, taking one another's presence in, and making love until they would eventually fall asleep in each other's arms. He would have done anything for that. But now it was too late to hope for any of that. He would cherish the last minutes, or even seconds he had staring at him. Taking in every little single detail of his face, and hoping to take the memory of them with him. The cute little bags under his eyes, the faint scar on his cheek, the wrinkle that formed in between his eyebrows when he was upset. He wished he could have seen his eyes gleaming once more, instead of seeing them filled with pain and tears.

"Leave-" Taehyung started, groaning at the pain, using up all the strength left in his body to speak. "You can live."

"Without you, Taehyung, I don't want to."

ONE WEEK LATER

The cold wind blew through the man's hair as he stood still in the middle of the field, fingers warmed by the burning cigarette in between them. His hand reached to his face, placing the remaining butt of the cigarette in between his discolored, cracked lips, before inhaling his last puff. He threw the butt far away behind the stone structures, making sure it would land nowhere near them. Hesitating, he stepped closer, barely able to look at what stood tall in front of him. He stared at the daisies that grew close to where he was, finding it weird how such beauty could grow among the dead. As much as he was there for a very specific reason, now that he was there, it was as if he did not want to anymore. He had thought about it for days and days after the funeral, but could never bring himself to step into the open field. The kick of alcohol had given him enough guts to do so, and now here he was, standing in front of them. He did not want to believe it; to accept it. To accept that below these rock frames laid people he had called brothers; men he had considered his family.