demented - jikook

twenty one

sorry for the delay :(( thank you for all the love for this book and for being patient with me ♡

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bright led lights, the smell of bleach, sanitizer invading his senses. white tiles scrubbed clean, careful hands, latex gloves and surgical masks.

he remembers.

and he remembers vividly that it didn't feel the least bit right.

jeongguk winces at the glare of the light source above him, rubbing his eyes of the shock. the foreign material of the green hospital gown rubbing against his skin and drowning his body. he looked around, noticing how the walls were painted blank. plain white. it was suffocating. how did he even get here?

and why did you agree to this? a voice hisses in his ear.

his mind fuzzy, it barely processing the fact that he had been here for already a span of three to four days. he lost count, boredom often consumed him that he barely even remembered who he was or why he was situated in the room. this very sad room. where was he anyway? all he did was take naps, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night. the only light source from the outside was the small window on the wall up above his bed. it even had grills, despite it being so tiny. guess there was a constant fear and precaution if the patient would attempt to escape, aside from the ridiculousity. maybe some patients go far to an extent.

he hadn't even seen taehyung, he was curious why his best friend never showed up. not even a hello, or checking to see how he was doing. he vaguely remembers agreeing to let taehyung help himself heal. that night, his head was overloaded with thoughts, unfamiliar fear. he didn't know how he got here, on this very uncomfortable mattress. he doesn't recall walking up to a front desk or anything. he trusted taehyung easily, and gave in to his wishes even though his conscience was telling him otherwise. he was so used to believing his best friend, trusting him. taehyung was there through thick and thin, so why wouldn't he, right? he thought medicating himself would make him feel better, relieved, a heavy weight lifted from his chest. but instead it felt like jail. like he was trapped in a cycle. a repetitive routine. he was going crazier, he felt it. not at all like the good crazy he felt with... jimin. but he won't admit that.

he barely even acknowledged the nurses tending to him, feeding him food that was bland to his taste buds. it was clear that he didn't like the treatment that was given to him. he would beg the other male to release him. he needed answers from taehyung. like why was he in the abandoned warehouse that jimin and he raided in the first place?

it couldn't be a mere coincidence, could it? taehyung wouldn't be randomly checking out some old abandoned place he found and it would turn out it would be the same place where he would find his best friend putting bullets into another person's skull.

the vibes taehyung was giving off were strange, one he hasn't encountered before. the idea of his best friend fearing him even the tiniest bit made him want to recoil and hide under the sheets for the rest of this lifetime. he can't, not taehyung. not his amazing, loving, accepting soulmate. originally, he didn't choose to drive himself mad, fate decided that for him. (or in other words, jimin.) but the feelings he stumbled upon were ones he would wanna relieve again and again and again. the blood, the taste of iron on his tongue. he's sick, he knows.

but before he could delve into more thoughts that would possibly tempt him to escape and regret, he reminds himself: shut up kook, you're here to heal, remember?

there's a longing in his heart though, a yearning. for something. someone. he didn't feel complete, he didn't feel okay. he craved something else. he didn't belong here, didn't deserve healing. he was already defiled, wasn't he? you're dirty, dirty, dirty, jeongguk. fucking tainted.