Smoke Song

Jerk

Jungkook sniffled, wiping his face on his arm halfheartedly. He didn't have to turn to know the man standing behind him, to imagine the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Saw you got rid of the scars. Trying to look brave? Or are you just ashamed you ever cared?"

Jungkook sighed, closing his eyes.

"You're an idiot, kid. Crying's only gonna make it worse."

Jungkook stood abruptly, swiping one dead hand through the air and lifting his lips in a silent snarl. The man laughed, unimpressed.

"Just go cut them off, if they bother you so much."

Jungkook whirled around, anger surging in his veins. He saw the man take a step back, small form blurred through his tears. With all his heart, he wished he could curse and scream at the man, fight him, attack him.

But this man had a voice.

This man also had more than he did.

Of course it's easy for you, Jungkook thought angrily, No one ever stole your reason to live.

He raced for the door, fumbling with the handle. He had to shove his wrist through the metal loop, yank it open, hold it with his foot--

"Jeez, just ask for help. Dramatic little sh*t."

The stranger pulled his wrist out of the handle, opening the door for him. Jungkook gritted his teeth, forcing himself to bow in thanks, and walked down the stairs, head down.

"Hey!" the stranger ran after him, stopping him on the step. "Look, I came looking for you. Hoseok wanted to know if you were up to dance tomorrow."

Jungkook scowled, wiping his eyes clumsily with the back of his hand. His shoulders rose defensively as the man reached out, gripping him in the same place the anti had shot him barely three months before.

"What? You're giving up on that too?"

Jungkook shook his head, yanking his shoulder away, and fell back, coughing as his back hit the stairs.

"What is your problem?" the stranger demanded. "I thought you'd finally stopped wallowing in your own misery! Are you determined to be hurt?"

Jungkook shook his head quickly, turning his shoulder so the man couldn't grab it again.

"Then what is it?" the stranger glared down at him, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You're taking up hours of my best friend's time, you better not be flaking on him!"

Jungkook gritted his teeth, mouthing "I'm not!" before he could think. When he realized what he'd done, his heart sank and he started to cry again. His voice really was gone. Even if the instinct was still there, even if he tried, there was no chance he could get it back.

"Hey," the stranger said, crouching down on the stairs in front of him. "Come on. You should probably be in bed."

Jungkook shook his head, struggling to breathe properly. He didn't want to see the look on the stranger's face. He didn't want to admit that the man was right, that there was nothing he could do, that he was wasting everyone's time.

I don't want to see anyone anymore.

"Calm down. You're not in trouble," the stranger said, and Jungkook's eyes snapped open. Was this man treating him like a kid? Like some child who had fallen and scraped their knee?

Jungkook was so tired of being fragile. He wouldn't break if they held him. He hated the hesitant touch on his shoulders, the soft words, the sensitivity. This was all he got anymore, even though all he wanted was for someone to talk to him like he was his age again. To hold him like they would never let go.

He got up, ducking around the stranger, and ran.

"Hey!" the stranger called.

Jungkook ignored him. He ran straight down all the flights of stairs to the exit, pausing only briefly while the automatic doors opened. No one stopped him. No one called out to him. The whole building seemed to echo the words inside his head.

If you're not going to help us fight, get out of here.

You're useless.

Quit crying already.

Beyond the doors was another world of light and sound and scents soaring on the air. He skidded around another corner, harsh breaths tearing in and out of his lungs, back prickling with sweat. People everywhere were singing, rapping, playing instruments, dancing, painting on the sidewalk. People everywhere, surrounding him, laughing and shouting and talking to each other. He panicked, stumbling to a halt and trying to get his hood up, but he couldn't get his hands to work. He felt his face contort and began to run again, desperate to hide his face. Wasn't there somewhere in this stupid city that was empty? Someplace he could hide?

All at once, it was quiet. Jungkook stumbled to a halt, tears still pouring down his cheeks. His hands shook as he raised them in front of his face, gritting his teeth. Then he stumbled a few more steps and started to hammer them against the wall of a building, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl.

Useless. Useless, useless, useless!

"Just cut them off if you hate them that much."

Jungkook's chest spasmed again, and he closed his eyes, hammering away until it became almost mechanic. Left, right, left, right. He felt nothing. No pain. No trickle of blood.

Finally he stumbled back and saw the red smear, dripping down towards the sidewalk. His hands were covered in the same red, but he didn't feel it. Dazed, he dragged a hand along the wall, watching the red smear onto the concrete, and started to run again.

"There's one!"