ѕтαят αgαιη//тαєgι

Facade

Taehyung

Yoongi sighs next to me, the sound of the pen scratching at his new book. The book was a simple black journal, with leather on the cover and gold letters spelling out ideas in small miniscule letters. He scribbles out something, writing a better way to say it next to it.

"Can I ask why you got a journal?"

"You just did."

I laugh dryly, "You're right."

Yoongi closes the book, "I'm writing everything down in case the memory loss replaces everyday."

"I'm sure the nurses would have told you if it would."

"I'm sure someone would know when they've irritated someone," he spits, venom lacing his words.

I stop at the red light. A few sprinkles of water begin to patter at the windows. Each one multiplies within the seconds, silently, yet so agonizingly loud. Drip. Drop. I watch as Yoongi plugs his phone into the AUX cord, playing IT G MA by Keith Ape. He raps every word, looking out the window to watch the rain pour down.

"How is it that you can remember every word to a rap song, but not me?" I whisper angrily.

He coughs, "You can't keep getting jealous because of the things I remember. None of this was in my control."

"I know. It's just..."

"What?"

"You meant the whole universe to me, and then the universe fell. It was like pluto. One time it was there, then the freezing cold memory loss made it disappear."

"Tae, you shouldn't blame me. Blame Jisoo."

Now it's my turn to question, "What do you mean Jisoo?"

"I-. She was the one that jumped me."

I make a sharp turn, deciding that taking Yoongi to his home can wait. I speed down the road, the strong beat matching my adrenaline.

"Taehyung, where are we going?"

"Hyung, we're taking a trip to see my ex." I growl.

He nods anxiously, gripping onto the "oh crap" bar. The vein in his arm pops out, making me just as much anxious. Not because he could be angry, but because that vein is looking better than my life.

The vandalized, ghetto apartment building comes into view, a bubbling hatred building in my chest. Just looking at the cream colored doors, with the blocky black numbers makes me furious. It's obvious which one is Jisoo's home. The door with blood stains and a bullet hole in the shattered window. Somehow, that matches the description to almost all the homes. Next to her door is a long trail of black spray paint. Though it's nothing out of the ordinary, it's still very unsettling to think of what that person looked like while running down the halls. It's unsettling because I was there for it, watching as Jisoo ran with the spray cans. But when that was when I thought she just had financial problems, not mental problems.

I leaned on the door, cigarette in hand, watching as the beautiful girl in front of me ran. The strong smile that rested on her face made me feel right at home.

That stupid bold smile. The whole time it was just a sick grin.

She shook the can, spraying my name on the wall, a menacing heart around my name, the paint dripping. I smiled, looking at the cans near my feet. There were many different colors, red, violet, green, even brown. So many colors to choose from, yet we went with black, as always.

"So many colors to choose from, yet we chose black. As always." I scratch out.

Embarrassment over filled me, feeling almost like I was left out. I grabbed the red can, shaking it violently, yet ever so anxiously. I began to spray an eye on the wall, specifically Jisoo's eye.