wherein jungkook's past and insecurities lead him to run away from taehyung’s love
– they'll have a happy ending. ♡
Jungkook doesn’t quite know the reason why. If there's one to be known. But, it feels heavy, sturdy. It pulls him down. It makes him want to burn within.
He traces a finger on Taehyung’s arm, from the back of his hand up to his shoulder. Slowly, as if trying to read the moles on his skin. It's suffocating. Unreadable.
Or too obvious, too good to be true.
Jungkook wants to scream.
He wants to scream and to make it hurt. He wants to blame Taehyung for his scars, for his pulsing ache, and for the haunted voices shouting from the tomb of his past.
He wants to question him and his kind embrace and his gentle approach to life.
He wants to make love to him. He wants to push Taehyung into the nearest, spiked wall. He wants to hear him panting. He wants to fight. He wants to be left alone in that dimly lit and reeking alley.
Instead, Taehyung holds him closer. Tighter. "You're safe, Jungkook. I won't leave."
He never did. Not even once. Not when Jungkook cried for another, nor when he hated his body. He stayed. Firm and crystalline. A vacuum cleaner; he sucked in the dust.
Jungkook wishes he could stop pointing fingers. He wishes he could stare at himself in the mirror without a bilious taste dripping on his tongue. He wishes he could be warmer, but his fingertips are cold, slippery.
He could slip at any moment.
He wishes he could believe. Believe he's lovable. Loved. Capable of loving. A human like any other.
Believe in Taehyung’s genuineness.
Yet, Jungkook doubts. Taehyung’s arms keep him steady, in place. Glued to reality.
His sweet lips painted in tenderness aim for the younger’s dark curls.
"You're tough, Jungkook." No. He isn't, wasn't, might never be. His sniffs are silenced by the crock of Taehyung’s neck. A safe place to hide. His lover.
A stable structure doesn't tremble at the mere sight of a sunny day. It doesn’t melt. Jungkook thinks he's going to collapse into Taehyung’s hug. Into the sun itself.
It shouldn't maim. It should be comforting and comfortable and complete. Although, it stings and bothers and empties. Why doesn't it feel normal? Being taken care of?
A song plays in the corners of his mind, each advanced note bruises more, bruises deeper. Taehyung’s an ocean, he's a well. Lacking any sense of vastness. Trapped. Lifeless. Pitiless.
Jungkook isn't a vacation destination. He's a warzone and there isn't anything beautiful or fair or worth taking from a battle. Flowers don't grow in blood soaked fields. He's broken.
Taehyung caresses his back, "I'm here." Each careful slide equals the birth of something delicate, something nice and real.
For how long? What's the point of holding on that closely? Is it possible to return what he deserves? Can Jungkook make a garden bloom and gift it to Taehyung? Give the sun a surface to gleam?
"I love you so much, I'm sorry." Love. He’s sure it's love. It has to be. And it's scary because it's love. It's secure because it's Taehyung.
"There's nothing to apologize for. I love you too and I won't let go of you." The brunette raises his head and cups his jaw, "You don't have to be the villain of your own story. Neither a hero. It's fine to just be who you are."
"I don't know how to love. How to be loved. I don't want to run away this time. I want to be the one who stays for you, hyung." Taehyung pecks his forehead. It lingers.
That's Jungkook’s goal. To linger.
"We can learn it together, no matter how many times we fall or take the wrong turn. It's fine if you wake up at midnight and I wake up at 7 AM. We can find an in between. I want you to be my timezone. My right time." Honeyed words. A landing free from danger.
Jungkook hears water, but it's not raining. He's crying, but somewhere, somehow, it's pouring.
Not that far away, Taehyung’s pouring his soul into that touch.
— the end.
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