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a flame could be compared to a mirage of things; metaphorically perhaps, as an adjective or a noun. a flicker of bright colors licking at the smoke arising from the cheap cold metal. a verb maybe? a burst of heat prickling at the tip of his fingers, sizzling and blistering. a rather nice sensation. its a hyperbole really, an exaggeration. just plain fire against fire on steal hard flesh. nothing more.
how could just a tiny, oh so pathetic little flare of fire at his own possession overtake such a great amount of the walls trapping all the caving words and thoughts of his, that could write poetry to the end of the afternoon sun just be demolished, torn down so easily? so goddamn fast and unblinking? no place or space for another lingering thought of what if, doubt consuming him from head to toe. it would be unfortunate if he turned back like the presumable coward that he was the moment, the day he left everything behind.
it really wasn't his fault to think all of that, all of this was rather funny, right?
yoongi bolted up straight from the bed and chucked the lighter against the wall, a loud thud following the impact. he breathed in heavily, his jaw clenched as his white worn down t-shirt clung to his chest like a parasite latching onto his skin.
he could almost feel the hotness swimming inside his blood, agonizingly slow, breaking him down one by one. piece by piece. yoongi couldn't tell if he found pleasure in that or not, but he was certainly not suppose to, yet he couldn't bring himself to settle with one of each answer.
this part, this feeling wasn't a hyperbole at all. his veins itched for more of that searing engulf of warmth in his blood, craving for it to grow more and more until it actually consumed him. yoongi hoped that a fucking nuke would set off right inside his fucking body so the intense want and need would settle and satisfy.
he used to be able to have that feeling, a pleasant and something that shined so bright yoongi would've never asked for more. he used to think some unworldly power allowed him to pluck the whole fucking sun out of space to love and bring all the swirling nonsense in his stomach close to butterflies. but alas, you can't keep what you can't touch.
bright hopeful eyes turned to dull cold mirrors. soft smiles morphed to deep scowls. burning hot kisses to a blank figure and a stab to the heart. all in perfect order but none expected.
yoongi found the flames he had been dying to seek, yet he failed to notice it become smaller by the day until it had completely gone out too late.
the lighter was still lying on the rough stained carpet floor a few feet away from where he threw it. yoongi got up to retrieve it, his footsteps heavy and tired eyes wandering around the space in between the bed and the wall.
the air had a putrid smell polluting it, sour and distasteful. yoongi didn't pay it much attention as he quickly grasped the lighter in his hand and sat himself down on the edge of the bed.
would it be selfish of him to want to relive those beautiful moments again yet knowing he'd lose himself in the end? everything that kept him alive brutally ripped out of his hands and shred to pieces? yoongi balanced and weighed the piece of metal in his palm, eyes staring out the window to the view of a brick wall. a stupid brick wall.
the quiet room filled with a crisp sharp sound, almost similar to an intake of a breath. he found himself absently flicking the lighter open and closed, like it was built into him to automatically do just that. yoongi found a sort of peace watching the flame flicker for a split second then vanish into thin air. to put it simply, it felt like a substitute, a replacement to fill the hollow hole that was carved into his chest. but yoongi knew better than to think it would last. it was only temporary.
yoongi fell back into the soft foreign sheets, the smell of dust overtaking his senses. should he go with the option of a noun? a verb? an adjective? he pondered over which option to pick as he counted the dots that speckled the ceiling.
he didn't want his final decision to weigh him down too much, rather preferring to ridding his mind of anything really. a fresh blank white canvas to color and draw upon. yoongi knew he was a coward, why think more on it?
he once again sat up and got to his feet, crouching down to reach under the bed without a second thought. no 'what ifs' or 'buts' clawing at his mind, not now. not ever anymore, yoongi guess he could say.
yoongi grabbed hold of the handle of the container, pulling it out and hastily standing up right. the substance inside of it sloshed around side by side as he roughly twisted the cap open and tossed it to the side carelessly.
a bitter taste settled on his tongue, the gasoline reeking the air and making him want to vomit then and there. yoongi continued on however, the smell and the chemicals becoming so strong his eyes began to sting and his lungs burned in protest. all was left was an empty container as it slipped out of his grip and through his finger tips, dropping to the floor pathetically.
yoongi was numb. numb to everything and anything around him. he ignored the pain in his heart and the stab in his back. the words in his head and the sight before him reflecting back into his eyes. the memory of his lost light and beauty leaving him to rot and plead about. he ignored all of it. absolutely all of it.
he stood in the middle of the room after retrieving the lighter, flicking it open and studying the flame that came to life, bright and furious. it felt warm to the touch, crawling down his fingertips and spreading through his flesh. the strong driven hunger clawed and scraped under his skin. yoongi felt like he was about to be torn apart inside out.
he strangely didn't have the urge to scream, rather than laugh with tears in his eyes and an ache in his chest. he never settled on if he wanted a noun, a verb, or an adjective, not feeling any particular motivation to do so anyway. it was just a hyperbole. only an exaggeration.
and that was settled. book closed yet the pages empty. burned to ashes. but he should know, it was slammed shut a long time ago. yoongi had always been fascinated by the idea of fire, now he finally had the chance to fall in love with it again after it had disappeared on a rainy day.
"jungkook-ah," yoongi murmured, not taking his eyes away from the flames engulfing the walls, eating and taking away the bland colors - now lit with something he yearned for oh so long. "i hope you're doing well."
he took it back. it was not a hyperbole. not even close to an exaggeration.