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vantejeon · 5 years

Text

her sadness was an old friend | jjk

pairing | jungkook x reader

genre | a sprinkle (or maybe the whole jar) of angst

word count | 2.3k

summary | he’d often come knocking on your door; unexpected, unannounced and during the ungodly hours of the night. it would be a routine for you both; he would seek solace in the comfort of your own home and you would welcome him in— arms wide open and heart pried apart.

author’s note | reposting this fic since all the text disappeared when i tried to edit it on the ipad (has anyone else encountered that problem?). once again, thank you so so much for the love and feedback that ‘oneirophrenia’ received. it’s my first fic and it’s reached nearly 100 notes which isn’t bad for a first timer imo haha! here’s another angsty(ish) fic that i dug out from my word documents. as usual, feedback is appreciated! enjoy!

The familiarity seeps in— infiltrating your system like a toxin and you’re almost physically sick at the overwhelming feeling that washes over you. It’s 3 o’clock in the morning and you sense him before he even makes his presence known.

Knock. Knock.

A brief moment of uncertainty passes you and you wonder if you have the courage to shut him out tonight. Maybe if you pretended you were sleeping then he’d leave you alone. But you know better. He knows better.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

There’s a sense of urgency in the rapping on your apartment door. You can hear it echoing in the hallway, the sound reverberating off the walls and you are aware of the possible repercussions should you refuse to answer the door.

Silence falls for longer than you had anticipated and the atmosphere is so quiet, you can almost hear the pulsing of the blood ringing in your ears. You close your eyes shut despite the room already cloaked in darkness. Maybe he had gone.

You let out a steady breath and wrap the duvet tighter around you. Sleep never came easy to you despite the restlessness you feel recently. You’re in and out of consciousness when you feel the bed dip and you stiffen, the hairs on your arms and legs standing as you feel his presence over you.

Keeping your eyes shut, you bite your lip and will your body to relax as an attempt to hide that fact that you’re now wide awake.

No words were spoken as he joins you underneath the duvet and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His touch was always warm despite his icy disposition and there is no doubt that he can feel the goosebumps that cover your entire body. You quietly inhale as he kisses your shoulder as a sign of goodnight.

Maybe you’ll find the courage to shut him out one night. But tonight is not the night.

You wake up that day and he’s still asleep, his presence looming over you still. Crawling out of bed, your bare feet padded across the carpet of your bedroom floor. His figure is hidden underneath the cover, just a billow of duvet protruding on your bed as you glance back and sigh.

Entering the kitchen, you can’t help but feel out of place in your own apartment. As if his presence alone was enough of a trigger to alienate you in your own home. But then again, it had always felt like that.

You’re always awake before him and you would always make him coffee before he himself rises from his own slumber. Black, no sugar— as dark and as bitter as his soul.

When he’d wake up, he would join you and you would converse like old friends.

“There are boxes in the spare bedroom.” His comment is somewhat accusatory as he enters the kitchen.

You’re making his cup of coffee first, having just boiled the kettle as he comes in. It’s 4 in the afternoon and you only just managed to get out of bed. Just barely though. It’s been getting more and more difficult to get out of bed recently. You prefer sleep over the company that resides in your house.

He lives in the reality of your everyday life so you prefer the comfort of your subconscious.

Opening the cupboard, you stand on your tiptoes to grab a Nespresso pod to put in the coffee machine. You mentally curse at the item being out of your reach and briefly wonder who was responsible for such a troublesome placement. Feeling his presence as he stands behind you, he reaches up to fetch the capsule from the box with ease. You freeze momentarily, remembering who it is that always insists to put the coffee pods on the highest shelf just so it’s always out of your reach.

Dependency ties your hands behind your back and asks you to undo the knot. And you will never win.

“I’m turning it back into a studio.” You reply to his earlier statement as you pop the espresso capsule in the pod compartment. There’s no room for you here anymore. You want to say but don’t. Placing the mug on the stand, you watch as the machine whirrs to life and coffee drips out of the nozzle.

You’re distracting yourself and he senses this as he responds.

“Okay, I’ll just crash on the couch.” He says it so nonchalantly that it makes your blood boil. Couch, spare room— it all means nothing. He always ends up in your bed anyway.

—

“It’s not laundry day today.”

He’s standing by the doorway as he watches you fuss in the bedroom, looking through your closet for an outfit to put together. Various items of clothing are haphazardly thrown over the bed; some on the desk and on the chair next to it.

It doesn’t surprise either of you at the current state of your room. You haven’t had the time to clean since he hasn’t thought of a time to leave.

“I’m going out tonight.” You respond distractedly, typing away at your phone as it pings continuously.

He lets out a derisive chuckle. “Why make plans when you know you’re just going to cancel them?”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion and your stomach drops, not liking the implication in his tone of voice. “The boys invited me.” You reply, quietly this time— the statement more to yourself than anything.

He scoffs. “They do that out of politeness.”

Staring down at the phone in your hand, your fingertips hover over the screen unsure of what to answer now. You see the notification of the group chat and you bite your lip. The reply is already at the tip of your tongue and the edge of your fingers: you want to be there. You want to spend time with them. You haven’t seen them in such a long time, always cooped up in your apartment because of the unwanted guest that chooses to never leave.

“You honestly don’t think they actually want you there?” His word pierces your skin and guts you open; he always knew the right things to say to make you feel wrong.

—

That same night, you’re sitting on one end of the couch watching a film as he lays down across you, his head on your lap. He’s getting comfortable again and you allowing yourself to do the same is what makes you fall back into the noxious routine.

“You should really consider throwing out all that junk in the spare room.”

His eyes are closed and you force yourself not to play with his hair, distracting yourself by fiddling with the remote. The film on the TV is merely background noise and you pay it no attention. Nothing retains your attention lately. Everything seems to be just noise.

“It’s not junk.” You mutter to yourself. “They’re commissioned pieces.”

From the corner of your eye, you see your phone on the coffee table along with the untouched takeaway you ordered for one. It wasn’t for you. It never is since you’re never hungry. Your appetite has been pretty much non-existent since he decided to stay.

The constant vibration against the glass and the screen lighting up signifies new messages but you ignore it. After sending a text to the group chat saying that you can’t make it to tonight’s event, you turned your phone on silent but that didn’t stop the incessant messages on their end. They’re asking questions you don’t have the answer to.

You wanted to see the boys, that was an absolute no brainer. However, you had a guest in your home and it would be rude to leave him in your apartment whilst you go out to have fun. Despite how unwanted he may be, you don’t have the capability to leave.

You wouldn’t want to be rude, do you?

Consumed with your thoughts and the possibilities of what he might say— you snap out of your reverie as you hear a knock on the door. The presence in your lap shifts, sending you a quizzical look which you mirror in return. You were not expecting anyone tonight.

Getting up from the couch, you walk over to the door tentatively, not quite certain when you started becoming uncomfortable in your own flat.

Your eyes take a while to adjust as you look through the peephole and they widen as you register the person on the other side. More specifically 1 out of 7 of said boys in the group chat you’re trying to avoid which also happens to be your next-door neighbour.

“Jungkook.” You acknowledge him somewhat breathlessly. Looking behind you, you realise that your guest was nowhere to be seen. You take this opportunity to open the door and you quickly scan your eyes at the figure in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“You cancelled on us last minute.” He says dejectedly, refraining from adding again as he replies. There is a slight look of concern on his face and you notice the way he’s holding back slightly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He’s dressed in typical Jungkook manner— all black, oversized and comfortable. His black baggy t-shirt is untucked over his sweatpants, Alexander McQueen trainers peeking out from the bottom of the cuffs. His hair is in its usual state; soft, wavy and longer now and you almost want to cry. He’s the first person you’ve seen in a while and it overwhelms you slightly.

“I..” You trail off, feeling your throat close up. Feeling a presence behind you, there’s a sudden heaviness weighing down on your shoulders.

“He’s wasting your time.” You hear a scoff.

“Just…” You grip the door handle to stop yourself from shaking and you sigh tiredly. “Go away.”

Hurt flashes across Jungkook’s eyes and his eyebrows furrow together as he looks away. “Right, well—“

Realising the misdirection, you quickly turn to Jungkook. “N-No, Kook, wait!” You step out of your apartment and you close the door behind you but not before hearing a loud and annoyed huff behind you. “It’s not— I’m just—“

You trip over your words, stuttering as you’re not entirely sure how and what to reply. Sensing your struggle, Jungkook waits patiently. His eyes are big and brown as they stare at you quietly and you feel an incisive urge to cry.

“I’m sorry…” Your voice is strained as you desperately try to hold it together in front of him.

“Can I come in—“

“No!” You exclaim. “I mean— y-you can’t… My flat… it’s a mess right now.”

“My place is tidy.” He says quietly. “We can talk there.”

—

“Sit.” He gestures towards the sofa as he places himself on the armchair opposite you. Your eyes trail towards the door where you know he will probably be lurking and eavesdropping. Jungkook looks at you expectantly. “Would you like a drink?”

You shake your head, your hands mindlessly drawing patterns on the sofa. “No, thank you.”

“Y/N…” He starts and your attention diverts back to the doe-eyed boy in front of you. “Is everything okay?”

You stare at him, the question almost short-circuiting your brain and you don’t quite know how to answer him— let alone what. You think of the not-so-stranger in your apartment, the presence that wormed its way inside your ribcage and demanded itself a home in the vessels of your bleeding heart.

You want to tell him about the intruder that’s currently in your home and how suffocated you feel but you settle with a nod of your head.

“I’m fine.” You lie through to your teeth and desperately force it out of your mouth but it still burns your insides like acid. Jungkook stares at you with his big brown eyes and, once again, you feel like you want to cry.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks. “You seem a bit… distant.”

“Oh? Really.” You force a peal of weak laughter.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you properly in months.” He states this softly, an aura of calmness in his presence that eases your jaggedness.

“Sorry, I’ve just been so busy lately.” You answer and he looks at you to elaborate more. “With commissions.”

There is a long pause and you’re not quite sure how to carry the conversation on. Jungkook is trying to meet your gaze but you can’t bear to look at him, already feeling overwhelmed.

“Y/N.” He says your name in a way that breaks you on the inside, along with it is the entire facade of you pretending to be okay and you’re crying before you even know it.

Jungkook is sat next to you immediately, his arms wrapping around you in an instant. His hold on you is different, protective but not suffocating and you relent in the comfort of his touch. You instantly realise that despite the heavy arms circled around you, you instantly feel lighter.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He tucks your head under his chin and lets you cry. “You can let it out, Y/N.”

A few hours later, you’re still in his apartment and it’s the most at peace you’ve felt in a while. Actions spoke louder as he cradles you with the soothest of touches. Words were not needed as he held you in his arms but still, he provided you with whispers of comfort.

You don’t talk about it tonight and he understands this, choosing to just simply be there and before you know it, it’s past midnight and you’re nearly falling asleep in his arms.

“Thank you so much Jungkook.” Your voice is slightly hoarse as you sniffle tiredly into his embrace. “For checking up on me.”

“You know I’m always here Y/N. We all are.”

He’s cradling you back and forth and stroking your hair as you feel yourself slowly being lulled to sleep. The exhaustion you’ve been feeling over the past couple of months washes over you like a wave but you don’t drown in it as Jungkook buoys you afloat.

“Thank you.” You whisper, afraid that you’ll bring the stranger from your home to his. “So much.”

Your eyelids feel heavy, holding on to Jungkook tighter as you feel sleep come so easily to you this time. Manoeuvring as carefully as he can to hold you bridal style as he stands up from the couch, you’re already asleep in his arms as he makes his way to his room.

He knew something was wrong when you kept on cancelling plans and refusing to see anyone. But he also knows better than to pry it out of you, choosing to patiently wait for you to tell him when you’re ready but he can’t help but feel so affected at how inconsolable you’ve become.

Placing you on the bed, he watches your eyelids flutter tiredly into consciousness as he slowly tugs on the bedspread.

“J’kook?” You mumble sleepily.

“You can rest here.” He reaches out towards you to move the hair that fell across your face behind your ear as he pulls the duvet over you. Tucking you under the cover, he leans down and presses a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“Sleep well, Y/N.”

—

i do apologise for any grammatical errors. it’s currently past midnight as i am writing to post this fic again since it got deleted. i only had it 75% saved because i edited it on the actual post itself (i know, dumb move). but anyway, i hope you guys enjoyed it. let me know what you guys think— my inbox is always open!

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vantejeon · 5 years

Text

oneirophrenia | kth

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre | angst, angst baby

word count | 2.7k

summary | isn’t it lovely, all alone? heart made of glass, my head of stone. tear me to pieces, skin and bone. hello, welcome home.

author’s note | inspired by the song ‘lovely’ by billieeilish & khalid. so i had this idea and started writing a long time ago but only just got around to developing it and managed to finish it after months of it just sitting around in my word documents. & what better way to debut my writing on tumblr than good old fashioned angst eh! let me know what you guys think? i’m new to this writing fiction on tumblr thing — feedback is always appreciated!

They say loneliness is living in a house with a person you used to love. If that was the case, then what was the feeling of no longer breathing the same air of someone who used to love you?

There’s a slight ringing in your ears as the sounds of steady beeping and water pitter pattering filters through your hearing senses. Visions of black and white flashes before your eyes in a dream-like state, an outburst of red striking your visual perceptions before you are roused from your sleep.

Slowly, you wake and already you feel the bed is empty.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, your palm applying pressure to alleviate the slight headache forming behind your closed lids. The constant breedle of sound is coming from your alarm clock which you absentmindedly turn off with the swat of your hand.

Reaching out towards the side of the bed where a body normally occupies, you feel the cold, empty space where he laid down mere hours ago. A sigh escapes your lips, your ears registering that the light drumming of water you heard moments prior was coming from the shower in the bathroom.

Your fingertips glide above the sheets and judging by the coolness on his side of the bed, he’s been in the bathroom for quite some time now and he’s probably finishing soon. The familiar ache in your chest starts to bloom — his side of the bed is always colder nowadays.

As if on cue, the door to the bathroom opens and he steps out, still dripping wet from his shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and a smaller one between his hands.

“Good morning.” Your voice is slightly groggy from sleep but still, you offer him a smile. It doesn’t quite reach your eyes but he doesn’t quite notice that. His attention is elsewhere, eyes seemingly fixated on anywhere and everywhere but you.

Sitting up from the bed; you stretch yourself awake, already making mental notes on things you should say — the appropriate topics to discuss. The flow of conversation that usually ran the smoothest between you is nothing but a trickle these days.

Communication has been a problem lately and you’re not quite sure on whose end.

“Oh.” He’s slightly taken aback. “You’re awake.”

He’s stationary for a brief moment, the smaller towel he’s using to dry his hair still in his hands as he looks at you, a somewhat distant look in his face. Your heart constricts as he turns away despondently and you feel the heavy ache in your chest plummet to your stomach.

“Should I make you breakfast?” You ask, making a move to leave the bed as you push the covers away from you. It’s true that you’ve spent far too many mornings surprising him with early morning breakfast only for him to rush out, claiming to be late for work. But you know he always leaves far too early to ever be late for work.

“I’m actually heading out.”

You still your movements, confusion marring your features. “So early?” You try to meet his gaze but it’s more than content with staring at the floor now. The digital clock on your bedside table read 06:38AM. It puzzles you that your body seems to be familiar with waking up at such early hours — you don’t recall ever getting a good night’s sleep recently. You don’t recall ever sleeping at all. “It’s really early.”

“Yeah.” His curt replies are daggers lacerating through your already wounded heart but you mask it with a nod of acknowledgement. “Jungkook’s birthday.”

Your eyes are trained on the planes of his back, the way his shoulders are tensed as he rummages through the wardrobe you both share. He’s looking a little sickly, a little paler as if he hasn’t slept for days but then neither of you have. Sleepless nights and weary hearts are becoming a routine for both of you.

“I see,” Your mouth moves to resemble something akin to that of a smile but it falters as he looks away from you. “Where are you going?”

“Busan.” He replies. Just like they did last year. Just like they do every year. You had a feeling he was going to say that but you want to keep the conversation going.

“Is everyone going too?”

“Yeah.” Of course, you know all seven of them would be going. You were quite familiar with all of them doing pretty much everything together. So, of course, all of them celebrating Jungkook’s birthday would be no exception.

“I see,” You watch him turn his back to you as he starts getting ready. You refrain from asking him too many questions but it was the only way to keep him talking, the only way to keep hearing his voice. “When will you be back?”

His movements are slow and staggered, somewhat lifeless even. He pauses his actions as he turns towards you, your gaze meeting for the first time.

“Tonight.” He replies; his voice hollow, the tone flat.

You will your heart to stop its hurting as it cries out for the man you once fell in love with. A long pause settles in the air between you both as he picks out black trousers from the wardrobe and lazily puts it on.

“Would you like me to cook dinner?” You ask him.

He continues to get ready, buttoning up his shirt before tucking it in his trousers. You’re not quite sure whether or not he heard you the first time and you were about to repeat yourself when he finally settles for a quiet, “Sure.”

There is silence in the bedroom and you’re both quiet for the next twenty minutes as he gets himself ready. The atmosphere is stiff and the air between you is haunting.

You watch him move to the mirror on the other side of the room, your presence is seemingly forgotten.

He fixes his blonde hair, dark roots peeking out after having bleached it a few weeks ago. You remember the days when you would style his hair — you used to sit him down and fuss about it; laughing and smiling as he distracts you with his goofy facial expressions and loving kisses. Nowadays, he fixes his own hair like you attempt to fix your own heart.

He doesn’t say a word as he leaves the bedroom, only leaves the door open as he walks out and you follow him into the hallway.

“Are you sure you don’t want breakfast?” Your voice is just above a whisper as he reaches the front door. Taking his jacket from the coat stand as he swipes his keys from the hook and into his pockets, he shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He responds inanimately.

“Okay.” You watch as he opens the door and steps out. “Take care.”

Turning back to meet your gaze, you think you see the ghost of a smile on his face but your vision is hazy and it morphs back into an insipid expression.

“You too.”

“I…” You pause, not quite sure whether or not you want to say something neither of you has heard for a very long time. “Say hi to the guys for me. Tell Jungkook I said happy birthday.”

“Will do.”

“I…” Your heart is screaming for those three words (to come from whom, you’re not entirely sure) as your head attempts to sedate it.

“I’ll see you later.” He pulls you towards him and, at first, his touch doesn’t register as it seemed so… foreign. But it’s there and he has you in his arms, his phantom touch cradling you as if he hasn’t held you in months.

“I love you.”

It’s barely above a whisper and you’re not quite sure who said it. Whether or not you imagined it, as you imagine him saying those three words to you so many times.

But as quickly as it came, his affection left as he bounded out the door— the hollow atmosphere in your two bedroom apartment remaining the same.

—

It’s fast approaching night time before you know it.

Staring at the clock on the kitchen wall, you’re left puzzled as the time on the clock differs to the sky outside. The shorter hand on 6 and the longer just slightly before the number 8 signifies it’s early in the evening but the colour of the sky was a dark, dark navy.

That’s strange, you muse.

The whole day was a blur to you, the same routine befalling you; as if you’d relive the same scenario day in and day out. After trying to reach out to Taehyung to check if he reached safely in Busan only for it to go to voicemail after the third try, you gave up and instead did chores around the apartment to kill time.

Missed calls and unread messages fill up your phone but you didn’t have the energy to read through them all. There’s a familiar tiring ache in your bones. The kind of tired that sleep can’t fix despite you attempting to take intermittent naps the whole day.

You don’t recall making dinner but before you know it, it’s all set up on the table.

You’re hoping he comes home soon as you sit on the sofa, a blanket over your lap and a book in your hands. The news is on in the background about some sort of anniversary. An accident. Someone’s passing. As of late, the news has been nothing but dark and morbid (then again when is it not?) so you tune it out in hopes to peacefully carry on with your day.

You look at your phone with unanswered calls and unopened messages. Frowning at the double-digit missed calls AND unread messages, a sudden ringing brings you out of your reverie as the No Caller ID flashes on the screen.

“Hello?” Clearing your throat as you answer, there’s a pause on the other line.

“Y/N…” You hear a breathless voice and you strain your ears a little in order to make out clearly who it was.

“Jungkook?” You question first and as soon as you heard a noise of affirmation you smile. “Hey, happy birthday.”

“Y/N, we’ve been trying to reach out to you all day—“ his voice trails off but comes to an abrupt stop. “Wait? Birthday?” He sounds confused at your greeting.

“Yes, sorry for not greeting you sooner.” You apologise. “I’ve had one of those off-the-grid days.” You hear shuffling on the other end and a long pause. Not liking the static ringing on the line as it was giving you a slight headache, you carry on. “How’s Busan?”

“Busan?” The voice on the other end morphs and you’re not quite sure who’s speaking now. It sounded like Jimin but it was hard to tell.

“Is Tae still there?”

“Taehyung?” A voice cracks and you hear a hard swallow. Was that Hobi? Hearing faint murmurs on their end of the call, you feel a sudden pain shoot through the back of your head.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you massage your temples as you feel a headache starting to form. “You guys, I can’t keep up.” You joke. “Who’s on the line now?”

“Y/N he’s not—” You vaguely decipher Namjoon’s voice this time and you’re about to playfully scold the boys for playing pass the parcel with the phone when you hear the front door.

The sound of the keys in the lock and the door opening distracts you from the current conversation you’re having as you hear footsteps down the hallway.

“Nevermind, guys, he just got home.”

“Y/N? No wait, Tae’s—“

“I’ll catch up with you later.”

Closing your book as you place it on the coffee table, you rise from the sofa to greet Taehyung but he beats you to it as he enters the living room.

“You’re home.” He stands before you seemingly illusory in all his glory. Walking towards him, you reach out slowly to take his coat from his shoulders and you take in the overcast look in his eyes.

You tiptoe up to greet him on the cheek with a kiss and you feel him freeze. His cheek is cold against your lips and he made no effort to reciprocate. Feeling the ache in your heart intensify, you say nothing.

“I made dinner.” You offer. “It’s on the table.”

“Have…” he pauses before looking at you directly. “Have you eaten?” With a gaze so tense, it’s the first time he’s acknowledged your wellbeing and your heart can’t help but skip a beat despite the aching in your chest.

You can’t quite remember whether or not you have so instead you shake your head as you reply, “Not yet.”

“Do you want to join me?” He looks at you, the eidolic expression you’ve been accustomed to warping into something more tender.

“Of course,” You nod towards him. “I’ll heat it up for you.”

Dinner is quiet as you both sit down. He doesn’t touch his food, merely plays with it as you study the unsettled expression on his face.

“How was Busan?” You fall back into the same pattern of asking him questions and he answers them with the same distant interest.

“It was good.” He answers, almost robotically. Then, as if to sense his mistake, clears his throat and pitches his voice higher to add the misplaced liveliness. “Really good.”

“How is everyone?”

“They’re doing well.” He says somewhat sadly. “It was nice to see them all.”

Silence settles and not only does your heart still ache but now your head is agitated as you can hear a hammering in your ears.

“You’re home quite early.” You attempt to distract yourself from the pulsing pain that’s increasing in your skull. “You got back quite late last time.”

Last time. Why does this all seem familiar to you?

“Y/N…” He starts. And your heart can’t help but constrict at the sound of your name coming out of his mouth.

You look at him, really look at him this time. Your eyes are searching for a sign— anything at all to ground you back to him. Or to ground him back to you but the pair of brown eyes that are staring back at you are dark and seemingly void of any emotions.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

You hear something shatter in the distance, you’re not quite sure what exactly but it reverberates throughout the entire kitchen— no, the entire apartment and your headache intensifies.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” His voice is seemingly distorted now — a lot more hollow in tone, a lot more empty in resound. There’s a haunting reverb to the words he is uttering.

“Tae…” You begin to reach out towards him but he seems so far from you. “I don’t understand.”

His mouth is moving but no words seem to come out as the weight of his words and the reign of reality suddenly come crashing down on you.

The floor beneath you starts to feel like its caving in and you start to feel dizzy, the drumming ache in your head only growing in intensity. Suddenly, everything is spinning and you tumble forwards.

“I’m sorry.” You can hear the pounding in your more clearly now as you hear his voice again in the distance. You begin to stand, your entire body shaking as you attempt to make sense of what was happening around you.

“No,” You’re shaking your head as you feel his reality take over the reality you conjured up on your head. “No no no,”

“Please wake up.” His voice breaks and along with it the illusion of your make-shift existence shatters. All at once; your vision is blurring, his silhouette a fuzzy outline and you find it difficult to breathe.

“T-Tae…” You see your hand reach out towards him and he’s reaching out towards you but suddenly he feels so far away. Unexpectedly, your body is paralysed and your heart is compressed tightly in your chest as you desperately reach out towards him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” His voice is distant, reverberating in your skull as the last words he speaks echoes in your head. “I can’t keep coming back, baby.”

There’s the same ringing in your ears as well as the soft sounds of steady beeping and the drumming of rain echoing in the distant. Your vision further darkens, flares of black and white flashing before your eyes in a similar reverie, an outburst of red striking your dream-like before you are roused to reality.

—

there we have it! interpret it however you guys want it (although I feel like the majority of you would have guessed what’s happening/what happened). there’s a part two (if anyone’s interested??), just let me know. i thought it appropriate to end in angst but should anyone want part two, it’s a slightly happier ending (though slightly longer).

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