3000 Stars

Caring

The memories were strong that night.

Taehyung practiced until his legs were ready to fold beneath him, but it wasn't enough. No matter how he moved his energy or tested new patterns, he couldn't escape the thoughts threatening to swallow him whole. He had locked himself in a training room to avoid being seen by his friends, but he knew it would only be so long before one of them came looking for him.

For once, he cursed the good friends he had.

Taehyung sat down at the edge of the arena, forming a ball of energy and tossing it up and down. The energy hovered almost effortlessly at the tips of his fingers. He knew there was more he should be able to do with it, but ideas evaded him, especially when the memories were there.

Taehyung knew he was a terrible person. He lied, and snuck behind people, and hurt them. He knew he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be the one on the battlefield, facing Yoongi. Not even V could have done it.

He wondered if he should just change his username and be done with it. Disappear. He could take a new picture for his profile, keep his powers, Go to an arena farther out than the one he visited so foolishly. It was only a matter of time before more people recognized him.

Taehyung's rank had climbed to 997. It was an improvement, but it wasn't enough. Yoongi had reached 995. And he would keep climbing. He was that powerful.

Taehyung was just an idiot with a death wish.

Taehyung sighed, slumping onto his side and curling into a ball. His hack prickled along his skin, reminding him of the deception he played every day. His friends hadn't seen his face in years, and the newest fighters never had. He probably looked like such a coward, always keeping his hack on. He wished it would short out, give him an excuse to run away.

But he couldn't face the arena as himself. Not after what had happened before.

"X?" Zen called, stepping into the arena. "Are you okay?"

"Ask me something else," Taehyung said, tapping the floor with one finger.

Zen sighed, walking across the arena to kneel beside him. "What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing," Taehyung said immediately, rolling onto his back and avoiding Zen's eyes.

"Are you sure?" Zen asked. "If you need a match, we can--"

"I'm fine," Taehyung said.

Zen sat back on his heels, looking Taehyung over. Taehyung watched him, but he couldn't remain still forever. Zen was right. He felt sleepy and restless. He got up and started walking, following the lines of the arena boundaries. Zen stood and followed him silently, watching as Taehyung began to call up bursts of energy again. Together, they walked the perimeter of the arena before Taehyung gave up, pulling his arm back and throwing a spear of energy with an angry yell.

Why did he have to fight?

Why did he try so hard?

He should just let Yoongi discover him. No matter what he did Yoongi would hate him, just like everyone else. He was Taehyung, and he was V, and he was X, but it seemed that none of those personalities knew what to do. He drew back to fire another bolt and felt Zen's hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"When did you stop going to therapy?" Zen asked.

"A year after I started," Taehyung said. His throat tightened, and he felt tears burning at the corners of his eyes. "It wasn't working."

"Why?"

Taehyung tried to move his arm, but Zen grabbed his shoulders and whirled him around, holding him firmly in place. Taehyung avoided his eyes, taking a deep breath, but it shuddered on the way out.

"Why wasn't it working?" Zen asked.

"She was just posing," Taehyung muttered. "She told me everything my parents wanted her to and nothing else. It-- it never helped."

"And what did your parents want?" Zen asked.

"They wanted me to quit."

Taehyung felt Zen's grip on him tighten. The guilt rose inside him, threatening to swallow him whole. He should have just stayed away from the arena. He should never have returned. It was too much pain, too many memories. Perhaps the therapist had been right, all those years ago. He couldn't handle the fights anymore. He needed to get off the field before he hurt someone else.

"Taehyung. Taehyung."

Taehyung wrenched himself out of Zen's grip, backing away and sitting down hard on the ground. Zen swore, turning around. "Dreyk!" he bellowed. "Get in here!"

Taehyung zoned out, feeling the tearing hollow opening inside him as the air pulling into his lungs thinned to a whisp. He felt a tear run down his cheek, but then even that went numb, sensation whirling away from him faster than he could pull himself out of it.

He summoned energy, hoping to feel the rush of his power, but even that wasn't there. He started to get up but his body was too weak to hold him. He saw Dreyk walk in and slam the door behind him, but when Dreyk knelt next to him an even stronger surge of self-loathing crashed over him.

He had hurt Dreyk. He had hurt Zen. He had caved to his parents demands and quit the one thing that ever helped him, that ever kept him alive. So many would have understood, but Taehyung couldn't get himself to care. He had hurt so many people, and now here he was, hurting Yoongi again.

He couldn't tell Yoongi. He couldn't. He had to disappear. Before Yoongi reached the top. Before Yoongi found out.

He couldn't let someone else die because of him. 

I feel like it's important that I say this. 

When I illustrate a ship, or show members of this band falling in love, I am illustrating characters. Whether those characters are a part of the members' personas or not is beside the point. They are characters. They are fake. And I don't support forcing your ideas on anyone, whether they be religious, scholarly, opinion-based... or a ship. 

I acknowledge the BTS members as inspirations and perhaps muses for what I write here. But whatever comes out of my interpretation of their art and stage presence, they are still humans, and it is my responsibility as an artist to remember to keep the scenarios in my head and the real-life relationships of those I illustrate carefully separate. 

Done. I will continue to update this story until it ends. Schedule isn't going to break. 

But we need to stop mixing reality and fantasy. It's unsafe. 

Have a good night.