Work Text:
I count the minutes and the hours to know I’m alive.
It’s early Autumn and the sun is still lazily hanging in the sky. Like the sun, I’m glassy-eyed and heavy-headed. It is sending warmth across the city and drawing naive stray clouds across the horizon - I see them burn away in the atmosphere. As always, my shoulders carry a leaden weight, the smothering cloak pinning me down even in the light of day, constricting my neck and burning my eyes. Leaves have begun to turn golden, brown and red… they can’t seem to make their minds up. Perhaps we will fall down together soon.
We lay in the verdant grass and I wonder why I’m here and how? The sunlight is looking down on us through the branches and I think maybe this is a sign from god. Is it mocking me? It sends crucifying fear slithering in, lashing out with wild thoughts and hooking its greasy, electric, spasming desperation into my brain.
I’m gazing into the distance when you look at me, gentle dark curls scrambling across your smooth forehead and big brown eyes gazing sharply. Then your eyelids close slowly, lashes resting on your upper cheekbones where a light flush dances across. Your mouth purses, pretty lips turning an autumnal ashen pink as you pause a moment to slip your tongue between them because you know I’m looking. Then the avaricious smile creeps across as your eyes open, locking back on mine, tenacious.
For the first time I drink in your deep beauty. That beautiful, thorny fruit. I’d always known it as a fact but it had never touched me before. Never cut through the layers of dread and emptiness and undeservedness that slick through my veins to make me realise.
I’m desperate. I throw myself into the lake. It is like a frozen dagger to my heart and my mouth opens as if I’m drowning, but I’m still breathing. I’m desperate… The wind breezes across and you playfully touch my arm with your glossy fingertips, sending shivers down my spine and across my abdomen.
So, I’ll be your plaything until you get tired and move on.
“I’m your fool, Jungkook.” My voice is hoarse, mouth dry as a dead orchard, mind poisoned.
You smirk, roll over with your back to me and say, savage, “Of course you are, Taehyung. Of course.”