To What Was Ours

The color of grief varies.

For some, it's red, hot, vengeful, anger. For others, it's black, a solid nothingness. But when those feelings settle, it's always a deep, navy, blue. Water you dive into, to reach for the bottom, to struggle, to maybe drown. A wave that crashes until it's terraformed the mind to accustom to the harsh tides.

Perhaps that was the color of the sky on November 10th, 2020, when Jeon Jungkook took his last breath, when the world stopped breathing, when the last great dynasty crumbled. Perhaps it has never brightened since. Perhaps that dusty, gold encrusted blue, has bled past the emotion of grief into everything else. Into the inhale and exhales of every breath.

Bangtan doesn't know any better than blue. From the bottom, there is the deepest, nearly black, shade that colored in that fateful night. A few rows up and it's that navy, manageable but residing in the back of their minds like a childhood book with their fingerprints all over the pages. And there's miracles, the brightest tint, so close that it's almost white.

But never that pure. There's a price for everything. For the faintest taste of peace, sometimes, it's sanity.

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Originally on AO3 as two separate works 'to the one who will never see this' and 'to the one I swore would never see this.'

Please refer to these works for extra tagging for any possible triggers.