Chapter Text
When Jungkook sees Taehyung for the last time, it’s surprisingly calm for the chaos still running around them.
The air is still, a quietness that, up until a few moments ago, almost seemed like it would never come and he feels grateful that the assault of bullets being fired have all but become a distant thrum in the background. Something that he can easily block out if the noise wasn’t already static noise.
Blinking does little to change his view of the sky. One, two, three times and the sky is still a murky smear of different shades of gray clouds. The darker ones creeping slowly over the lighter ones, a wonderful gradient for a painting if anyone were to use the sky as a reference. If he didn’t know that this was just the natural state of the weather, he’s sure that he would think it was gonna start raining soon too. If it did rain, it would be fitting, if not a bit dramatic.
Jungkook would rather the universe give him a fucking breather at this point. It’s the least he deserves.
Faintly, he feels a hand pressing to his side, pressing down, down, down on the crimson seeping from the wound in an attempt to stop it. He thinks that even the weak attempt to keep the blood from bleeding won’t be enough to save him. He’s been laying out here for too long, the cold bleeding into his bones and slowly losing his grip on consciousness much too long to be healthy. He knows it’s futile, but the desperate act still makes his heart ache and wish that he could at least make it to the medical tent.
Fingers come to settle on his cheek, forcing his head back just a bit and the sight of Taehyung’s faces makes his heart jump, the slowing beat stuttering over itself for a second. He’ll ever get over how beautiful Taehyung is, thinks that he never really wants to, and musters up what he hopes is a smile.
“Tae… You’re here,” he sighs, the words riding out on the exhale and he’s not really that cold anymore.
He hears watery laughter, the fingers against his cheek prodding just a tad more and he blinks up at the other, confused a little. He doesn’t understand why he could be laughing. Was there something funny about his words?
“Of course I’m here, Kook. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” If Jungkook wasn’t literally laying on his deathbed, he would point out that he knows. He’s died multiple times already and every time he’s met Taehyung again. No matter how long it is between the cycles, no matter how long it takes Jungkook to remember- Taehyung is always there. Waiting and accepting everything every time they meet again.
He feels bad that this time around they’ve only known each other a few months. Taehyung had mentioned that they had had at least a year or two the last time around. He doesn’t remember that lifetime fully though; only a few snippets of their lives throughout time. Taehyung had said it was okay, that it was something normal that would happen, and that eventually he would remember because he always did.
He feels bad that he can’t remember them like he had promised he would.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpers softly, the edges of his vision are starting to blur just the tiniest bit and panic zips down his spine for a brief moment. He doesn’t want to die, not now in Taehyung’s arms, not ever. It’s cruel, much too cruel, to have Taehyung witness this.
Desperately he tries to will his hand up, to touch and feel the boy before him. All he wants right now is to show the other that he’s going to be okay despite knowing that it would be a lie. Still, he tries and can only produce a tiny twitch of his fingers and realizes just how heavy his body really feels. His fingers and toes are numb, limbs that only feel like lead and it terrifies him.
“Kook, shh, baby it’s okay, shh.” The words are tender, a soft breath against his forehead and he can’t help but shut his eyes for a fleeting moment to calm himself. There’s no need to panic right now. It would only make things worse and things need to be calm right now. As calm as he can be about dying anyways.
“It’s not okay,” he counters, voice rough from disuse and he flicks his eyes down his body to take in Taehyung’s hand wrapped at his side, a smattering of crimson painting the skin of his hand and Jungkook feels sick. Taehyung doesn’t need to be subjected to this. He can’t watch him die like this, not so soon. “How is me bleeding out okay, Tae? What part of you pressing down on my wound to keep me alive okay?”
He doesn’t mean for the words to sound so biting but he can’t honestly think that this situation is in any way okay. Because there is no part about trying to save a dying man that is okay. The fact Taehyung has had to do this multiple times already, had to press at one of his wounds from a life before or possibly clung to his body when he’s been long gone is not okay.
He doesn’t plan for this to be another one.
“I want you to leave,” he pleads, eyes trailing back to the other’s face and feels his heart shatter. Taehyung is looking like he’s stabbed him, features screwed up in confusion and hurt and it completely destroys him. Never has he wanted to see that look on the other’s face, but here he is being the reason for it and he feels disgusted with himself.
“I’m not leaving, Jungkook. I don’t care what the hell is going through your head right now, but I’m not leaving and nothing is going to make me.”
And that… That makes Jungkook want to cry because he already knew Taehyung would say something like that. He wouldn’t be Taehyung if he hadn’t. It still doesn’t make breathing easier or make him feel any less guiltier. But he’ll let it go because he’s way too tired to argue and he just doesn’t have the time to fight with the other. So he nods, a weak jerk of his head and inhales shakily.
“I don’t want you to watch me die.” The words are small, but his voice trembles and he feels the pressure on his side press down a bit more. Taehyung shakes his head and Jungkook can make out the tears glazing over the other’s eyes. He really feels bad now.
“You’re not gonna die, Kookie, please. The meds are gonna get here and patch you up, make you feel all brand new.” Fingers trail over the skin of his cheek and he flutters his eyes close at the passing touch. “And then I’m gonna sneak into the tent and onto your cot to lay with you, yeah? That’s how Jimin’s gonna find us and probably yell at me because you should probably be resting undisturbed but I’m greedy and always want you around me.”
The sharp intake of breath and slight hiccup have his eyes blinking open to take in the first tear slipping down Taehyung’s cheek. His heart aches with the want to reach out and wipe it away, but the feeling of most of his limbs have gone now( he wonders how he hadn’t noticed sooner ). Instead, he can only gentle shush the older boy in hopes to soothe him.
“I’m so fucking greedy,” he continues, tone shaky and he continues to stroke at his face. “It’s the reason why you’re stuck here dying and I can’t do anything about it. I just can’t let you go and I’m so fucking sorry you have to suffer for my selfishness.”
“I’d die every day if it meant I got to spend it with you,” he mumbles, only a soft utter of words falling from his lips, “Please don’t apologize, because I’d be just as greedy. I am just as greedy.” A sigh, featherlike exhale of air. “I could have stayed away when I found out, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. You may think you’re the greedy one but I couldn’t give you up. Not after you told me everything.”
Admitting it out loud, normally, would have left Jungkook a stuttering and flustered mess. But now, laying in the middle of the frozen battleground, bleeding out and essentially dying has thrown all of Jungkook’s care out the window. Now, he doesn’t mind admitting that he craves Taehyung just as much as the other does him.
It’s a curse that neither of them seem to care about until it’s too late.
It’s a curse that neither of them will ever stop trying to fix.
His vision blurs and his body shudders, whether from the cold or from the mere fact that he’s dying, he’s not sure. Still, it’s hard to see Taehyung and he doesn’t want that. Wants to see the man until the very last moment if possible. But he knows it’s a fruitless effort coming at this point.
So he lets his eyes slip close and exhales again, bitter that he can’t even be allowed this small thing.
“I’m sorry, Tae… I can’t… I can’t really see... you,” he admits weakly, lips tug into a small pout before it slips away. He can’t see it, but Taehyung shakes his head before realizing that Jungkook can’t and mumbles that it’s fine. “I don’t... want to... die,” he mumbles, words becoming increasingly harder to murmur. Wonders why things have started to slip away from his ( like the feel of Taehyung’s fingers and their warmth ). He tips his head the slightest, at least he thinks he does, and breathes in shakily.
“I know, babe. S’okay though,” Taehyung assures, fingers trembling as the stroke through Jungkook’s hair and just watches the younger. Watches his face became paler and his chest starts to slowly stop. “I know, it’s okay. Just a few more minutes and the meds will be here, I promise. Can you stay that, Kook?”
Silence is the only thing that meets his question and Taehyung knows the answer already. Knows that even when the meds get there, they can’t do anything to help Jungkook. Because the while the bleeding had stopped flowing so heavily, it hadn’t stopped completely and people can only live while losing so much blood.
And because you can’t help the dead.
So Taehyung lets himself sob, the sounds drowned out by the continuous raindrop of gunfire and he can’t bring himself to care.
Jungkook blinks his eyes blearily, heart weighing heavily as brings a hand up to wipe the sleep from his eyes.
That was the weirdest and saddest dream he’s ever experienced. A bit morbid, actually, and creepy. Because, really? He was already dreaming about the pretty boy from the cafe a few days ago? And the dream just had to have them in some dramatic battlefield romance type thing?
He just figures that he shouldn’t let Yoongi pick out late night movie snacks anymore and pushes himself up to stretch. Yoongi stirs on the other side of the couch and he glances at the clock resting on the wall, noting that it reads 2:35 and frowns. It was early, or late depending on how people looked at it, to be up. With that in mind he settled back into the cushion of his couch, ignoring the grumblings of Yoongi and let his eyes slip shut.
He only hopes that this time his mind doesn’t dream up something so depressing again.