One Week

Day One

"Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't.". - (Hamlet, Act II, Scene II) W. Shakespeare

Present Day

Cold.

Why is it so cold?

When I woke up that beautiful morning, I was smiling. Today, people don't say this anymore, but you could say I was gay with how happy I was. What Jungkook and I did last night was nothing short of amazing. I love what we do, but sometimes the best part is the morning after. Waking up beside your loved one, watching the rays of the sun dance across their skin. But this particular morning, Kookie was not beside me. Lifting my head, the house was quiet at first, as I listened for any sign of him. Then I heard metal hit glass faintly, and I could hear his soft morning voice from the other room.

Getting up from the bed, the sun warmed my bare back through the windows as I slipped on a pair of grey sweatpants before padding barefoot into the kitchen, his voice becoming louder. I know there's nobody else in this house, so there's only one person he could be speaking with. Christ...

Peeking around the edge of the door frame, I saw him sitting at the island, back curved as he leaned over a bowl of cereal. Watching him, I realised that he was, in fact, talking to Yoongi. Approaching from behind, I wrapped my arms around his bare torso and rested my chin on his shoulder.

"Good morning, oppa," he chirped. Although it was only three words, I took this chance to admire his gravelly morning voice. It was different this morning, like all mornings after we make love so beautifully. It was an interesting relief from his usual perky, boyish tone. Speaking of boyish, that was probably one of my favorite traits about Jungkook, physically, yet he still managed to be so lean and muscular. At 5"10, feminine was the last word I would ever use to describe him.

He moved beneath me, and I left him so he could get up from the stool, taking his now empty bowl over to the sink. I watched him as he turned on the water and rinsed the glass, but began to get worried as he continued standing there after he was finished. His eyes stared unblinking at the running water, his lips slightly parted, two fingers under the stream. "Empty your mind, be formless," he said in a low voice. I slowly approached him as he continued speaking.

"Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend." Turning his head toward me, he smiled a little. "That's only one version of Bruce Lee's quote. I don't know why I like water so much. It's beautiful. But things like the ocean scare me. How can we devote so much of our lives to something that could scare us, or kill us so painfully? Yet I still love it. But I'm not in love with it. How is that, Taehyung?"

"Well, unless you tend to fall in love with inanimate objects - or something relative to that - you can't really fall in love with water, Kookie. But yes, people do tend to love water, even if they know that it's so dangerous. Why are you saying this now?" "I don't know. I've recently rediscovered it, I guess you could say."

I hate it when he does this. Suddenly freaking out about something, then dismissing it. It worries me when he does it. Why is it water, too? What is his newfound obsession with it? Could he hurt himself? Maybe he just needs more medication. I don't know when he last took them. Usually, when he doesn't take his anxiety medication, he can say or do some pretty disconcerting stuff.

Walking back into the bedroom, I searched the nightstand until I found the little blue, purple and white box. Pushing a lavender pill out of the foil, I carried it back into the kitchen and handed it to him before fetching a small cup and filling it with water. He hates pills almost as much as he hates needles, but he eventually - reluctantly - swallowed the drug. Finally, he turned off the water, the incessant sound of it falling onto the steel stopping for once.

Tilting his head, he looked at me with cynical features, one eyebrow arching. "Don't look at me like that, babe," I whispered. "You know you have to have these." "I still don't like them." "I know." His features softened, and he turned to hug me. I welcomed his embrace, and the warmth that came with it. For some reason, I feel like I'll soon be cold.