Smoke Song

Failure

"You're doing great! Relax!" Hoseok shouted over the music.

Jungkook gritted his teeth, fighting to match the dancer's pace. He felt the stiffness radiating in his arms, but it seemed as if nothing else would keep them in control. How was he supposed to relax? How was this supposed to work? He spun, tripped over his feet, and fell hard.

The music stopped, and Senya crouched beside him, tugging him into a seated position. "You alright?"

Jungkook nodded, letting his head drop back. Senya slowly lowered him back to the floor, raising an eyebrow.

"You're doing really well," Hoseok said. "Stop tensing up like that, you'll hurt yourself."

Jungkook sighed, closing his eyes as Hoseok took his arms and helped him stand. The dancer patted his shoulder, giving him a quick hug.

"Let's break for today, huh? It's been about an hour, you should rest."

Jungkook nodded, shaking his head to get his bangs out of his eyes. Hoseok smiled, brushing them away for him.

"You're really talented," he said. "I think you'd make a great dancer."

Jungkook looked into his eyes and felt a small spark of hope in his heart, but he snuffed it out quickly, swallowing hard. He wasn't that good. Besides, what good was it when he couldn't sing? Singing was all he'd ever wanted to do. Dancing couldn't just replace the new hole in his heart.

Nothing could.

Jungkook sat in the cafeteria, alone, one leg pulled up to his chest as his eyes scanned the other people, taking them in. Senya and a few other ARMY sat with Taehyung at a far table, talking and laughing. Jin leaned against the counter, chatting with the cashier. Hoseok and the strange man sat at another table, talking as Hoseok stacked used coffee cups into a pyramid. The stranger caught Jungkook staring and smirked, flipping him off.

Jungkook looked away.

He hated it.

He hated being helpless.

He danced with Hoseok every day, working his body until he was sure he would fall apart and then a little further, but it wasn't doing any good. He wished for the millionth time that he could just have his voice back so he wouldn't feel awkward joining Taehyung and his new friends at the table, so he could join in the conversation.

He hated not being able to talk to anyone, to communicate. It made him feel sick when people stumbled to a halt, unsure what to say because he couldn't respond. When Taehyung pulled him into his arms, as if trying to shield him from everyone. When Jin watched him in concern, only to run to his side seconds later, asking him if everything was alright.

Nothing was alright. But it wasn't like Jungkook could tell them where it hurt, so he buried it. Most of it, at least. Sometimes, like now, it was too obvious he was lonely. He wanted someone to be next to him without worrying about him, he needed someone to care about him for real.

He hated the antis.

He hated the agents.

He hated everything.

Slowly, Jungkook stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. Why had he come to the cafeteria? It was pointless. He had a cloud around him, a stigma. He was a failure. He had lost his hands and then his voice, and he couldn't even dance well. He glanced over at Jin, but the man wasn't looking his way.

No one was.

He let out a soft sigh of relief and hurried out the doors, frowning when he couldn't get his hood to flip over his head. He wanted to cry. Wasn't there anything he could do on his own? Why did he have to lose his only talents right when he needed them?

Everyone else could do something. Everyone else was at least useful. He was nothing but a burden.

No one was on the roof. Standing in the bright sunlight, staring out across the patchwork quilt of buildings below him, Jungkook swallowed his tears and closed his eyes, sitting down. The concrete was warm beneath him. If he sat out there long enough, he'd have a sunburn on top of whatever else, but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He stared at the concrete wall and chainlink fence in front of him, chewing on his lower lip and letting the thoughts fade from his mind.

Unfortunately, with the quiet, they came back in full force. If everything he did was a bother, if he couldn't do anything on his own, how in the world was he supposed to exist?

They were in the studio when the antis hammered on the door.

Taehyung met Jungkook's eyes, and Jungkook backpedaled, grabbing the book of CDs off the studio desk and racing for his bedroom.

He managed to slide it underneath his mattress, praying they wouldn't look there and that it wouldn't break, and swallowed hard, hurrying toward the stairs just as the door swung open, letting in the very people he'd hoped would never find them.

"Jeon Jungkook!" their leader yelled. "You are under arrest for the creation of music! Hands in the air or we'll shoot!"

Jungkook whipped his hands up, pressing his back to the wall. As he looked around, he realized Taehyung was missing, and his breaths began to come hard and shallow. Had Taehyung left without him? Had he escaped?

Why would he leave him behind?

"Get AWAY FROM HIM!"

Jungkook turned, hands falling slightly, and something slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. He screamed as pain exploded in his shoulder. Taehyung roared, and the noise level in the room rose, then fell again as his friend dropped to his knees beside him, clutching his bloody nose.

The lead anti sneered, grabbing Taehyung by the hair. "I guess you've decided your own verdict," he said, throwing him aside and kneeling beside Jungkook. "Hey, kiddo. Does it hurt?"

Jungkook gasped as he grabbed his shoulder, screaming as pain flooded his system. The anti chuckled, slapping it, and hauled him to his feet.

"Take them upstairs. They can watch it all burn."

Finally the tears came.

He didn't force them; he didn't try to hold them back. His chest spasmed and he curled over, bringing his knees up to meet his face, droplets slipping past his mouth and down to his chin. He felt them fall, felt them leave his skin and seep into the fabric of his pants.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

"What, gonna add crying to your list of problems?" 

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