"I hopesome day I'll make it out of here
Even if it takes all night or a hundred years
Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near
Wanna feel alive, outside I can fight my fear
Isn't it lovely, all alone?
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone
Tear me to pieces, skin and bone
Hello, welcome home" - Billie Eilish
Seokjin wanted a radio. The record player and the television were nice things to have, but he wanted a radio. A radio was what he had found BTS on in the first place. The radio was what lead him to commit petty crimes in order to be locked up in the hospital. It seemed only fair that he could have one when he was in the damn place.
But the record player just kept squealing and turning and skipping, and the television kept on playing the meaningless words of too many people that wanted someone to hear them. Were they begging for someone to listen, or were they just so wrapped up in their own self-pride that they couldn't understand that the sound of their voices was grating?
Seokjin sighed. Why was he being rude? He didn't have any right to be rude. He was just bitter, with years of pent-up rage fueling and paining his actions.
He thought of what he had heard Hope and Namjoon telling Chou the previous day, in their hushed voices. Maybe they had thought he couldn't hear. Maybe they didn't care. He didn't put it past Hope.
"He's different than the rest of us," Hope had said.
"Different how?" Chou asked in reply.
There had been several seconds of silence, and Jin had strained his hearing just in case the reply was being uttered too quietly for him to hear. He wasn't sure why he cared; he wasn't sure if the answer would make a difference to him. At least that was what he had told himself. The truth was, he cared a lot.
"He controls his actions. He's got the horrible, awful thoughts like we all do. But the thoughts don't control his actions. He goes where he wants to go and does what he wants to do," Namjoon said.
"How do you know?" Chou had asked in reply.
Indeed, how did they know? They didn't know Seokjin's thoughts. They didn't know if he was acting according to them or not.
Hope had laughed quietly, and Seokjin had raised an eyebrow despite not being seen by anyone."You know he's never hurt someone, don't you?"
Seokjin had gasped, catching himself before he could be loud but he still froze. Dammit, why had he been judging Hope? Hope was an angel. And not like the angels that Father Daniel had been telling them about, the ones with war helmets and swords made of fire. Hope was the kind of angel that people thanked for blessings.
Several days later, Seokjin wrote into his notebook, thinking about Hope's words. He decided that if he ever got the chance, he would like to personally thank Hope for what he had said. And apologize for every rude thing he had ever thought. And not thanking in the form of written words, either. Spoken. Seokjin wanted to speak to Hope.
But that would have to be a long time in the future. Seokjin couldn't speak yet, he couldn't allow himself to use his voice to speak his own words. No, he could only use his voice to sing, to say words that he knew had a lot of meaning. If he tried saying something for himself, then the words would be meaningless. A waste of air. He didn't want to do that. He was never good with words, but perhaps if he wrote the words he wanted to say down and worked at them, he would have the right thing to say.
YOU ARE READING
Butterfly
Fanfikce"Invisible and inevitable, like a butterfly that beats its wings in one corner of the globe and with that single action changes the weather halfway across the world." ― Alice Hoffman ~~ Chou Tsushima is an investigative reporter with excellent train...
