Seven Shots: BTS Oneshots

#1 | KTH

He’s dead.

And it didn’t need to be proven, for he felt like air—an ethereal whisper slipping through fingers, a phantom in a world too vibrant without him. The wind, an invisible hand, gently nudged his soul toward her, urging him to reach out, to connect.

She sat in their bed, a quiet storm brewing behind her hazel eyes, silent tears tracing paths down her cheeks like rain on a windowpane. Taehyung didn’t need a second to piece it all together as he beheld her, a fragile flower wilting in the absence of sunlight. It had been a week of endless sorrow, each day a new shade of gray, and Taehyung, ensnared by guilt, knew he was the architect of her heartbreak. A relentless voice echoed in his mind, venomous and sharp: It’s all your fault. You’re the reason she’s like this.

He nodded along with its cruel words, a prisoner to the truth. He and Mia had met like any other teenagers, but their connection transcended mere friendship; it was as if fate had woven their souls together with an unbreakable thread, entwining their hearts, destined to beat as one.

Then, on a fateful day, they had been cocooned in the warmth of her bedroom, Taehyung’s head nestled in her lap. The position always ruffled their friends; they could see the chemistry crackling between them, but Taehyung had been blissfully unaware of the significance. As Mia played with his hair, her fingers weaving through his dark strands, it felt like she was stirring echoes of joy in his heart. With eyes closed, he felt the world slip away, and it was in that serene moment he had decided to shatter the silence.

“If you like me so much, why don’t you confess then?” he had teased, his heart racing as he braced himself for the inevitable rejection. He wanted to shield himself from the truth, to cloak his vulnerability beneath the guise of flirtation. But the way she had responded was more startling than he anticipated, a rare glimpse into her shy soul. Leaning down, she pressed her soft, cherry lips against his forehead, igniting a shockwave of warmth that surged through him.

“I do,” she whispered, her voice a gentle breeze against his skin. The sincerity in her confession was a sweet balm for his worries, pulling his gaze from the depths of uncertainty. “I do like you.” Her shy smile painted her lips with innocence, and in that fleeting moment, surrounded by her melanin-rich skin, her glistening hazel eyes, and the intoxicating scent of honey and cookies, he realized the truth: he didn’t just like her—he loved her.

Two years into their relationship, Taehyung had planned to take the leap, to finally propose and make her his forever. His friends and family had conspired to help him with the perfect plan. Just a week ago, he had envisioned slipping the ring onto her finger, but fate had other plans. If only he hadn’t rushed, if only he hadn’t taken that ill-fated drive, he might have been here beside her, watching her face light up with joy.

“W-Why? Why did you leave me alone?” Mia sobbed into her hands, pressing her palms against her face as if trying to shield herself from the cruel reality. Taehyung was jolted back to the present, his heart—now a ghost of its former self—shattering at the sight of her pain. She looked up, or so he hoped, but her gaze returned to the wall she had been staring at, tears streaming down her cheeks. Of course, she couldn’t see him. Taehyung gritted his teeth, rage boiling beneath the surface.

“Jebal…” he murmured, barely able to comprehend the sight of his love in such despair. Death was an inevitable shadow, creeping in like a thief in the night, stealing joy and leaving behind only sorrow. Mia had been splashed by the tide of grief, drowning in an ocean of sadness that was never meant for her.

He gulped, the weight of his own helplessness pressing down on him, knowing it hurt more than death itself. He could see her, but he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t comfort her, wipe away her tears, or hold her in his embrace. He was nothing more than a specter, a memory fading into oblivion. People recognized him through his photographs, through the laughter shared, but little did they know, he was still here, lingering like a breath in the air.