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There was something wrong with Jungkook; Taehyung was sure of it.
Not in the innocent, simple way that’s usually the case with Jungkook — like when he eats Taehyung’s snacks and lies about it — no this was different.
The past few weeks have been weird. Their dynamic was off. At first, Taehyung thought it was because of Jungkook’s upcoming performance. He always got a little weird around that time, but no, no, this was way different. Jungkook was becoming distant in a way that made the older think that he’d done something wrong.
Every time Tae was around Jungkook he seemed physically repulsed by his presence and eager to leave the room, having an excuse ready to fire off every time. The two, who had practically been friends since they were in diapers, were usually very comfortable and touchy with each other. It wasn’t uncommon for the two to be seen touching each other in one way or another, but hand-holding was their constant. Over the years Taehyung would develop the habit of holding hands with Jungkook at any given moment. Whether it be while walking to class together or even sitting next to each other on their couch while watching a movie. That was their normal, but apparently, Jungkook hadn’t gotten the memo. Recently, anytime Taehyung made any advance to grab at Jungkook’s hand the latter would flinch away as if he hit him.
He’s been locking himself away in his room more lately too. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual — Jungkook has always been a bit of a hermit, preferring to keep to himself — but something about the entire situation just felt...off to Taehyung.
When Taehyung stepped into their shared apartment he could feel it on his skin, the energy in the air palpable. He froze in the doorway, the sudden change in atmosphere from outside to inside feeling like a bucket of ice water dumped down his shirt. An unexplainable sense of panic overtook his senses leaving him stuck in a permanent state of flight or fight.
Something was definitely wrong.
Having dabbled in witchcraft for a long time now, Taehyung has developed a sixth sense of sorts — something all witches had, he learned. It was a defense thing, above all else. The things Taehyung did made him vulnerable to a lot of things; to sense an inhuman presence helped him avoid a lot of undesirable, to say the least, situations. It was nothing big, it was just easier to notice the signs. The alarm in the back of his mind suddenly going off, hairs on the back of his neck would stand, being able to feel the subtle dip or rise in temperature — little things really. But this...this was something different.
It was suffocating like a room full of smoke with no exit and pressure weighing heavy on his body like he’d been dropped to the deepest depths of the ocean.
Something was here and it was dangerous.
Taehyung shouldn’t be surprised, truly. He’s felt it for a while now; maybe not to this degree but in a sense, he knew it was coming. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s been right about something like this. Reading the stars opened his eyes to a lot of things.
But it’s just this once that he wishes to be wrong.
Just a few weeks ago he was giving Jungkook charms to ward off negative entities and energy because he felt this same feeling, something looming over him, whenever he was around the younger — granted it was to a lesser extent but was still a cause for alarm.
His hand unconsciously grips the doorknob as he calls out, “Jungkook?” His voice came out shakier than he wanted. His unease was subtle yet audible.
The silence he receives in response is worrying. Jungkook should be here. Today was one of the days he was free from his usually packed schedule. No work, no classes, no dance practice. Of course, he could’ve gone out but he would’ve texted Taehyung so he wouldn’t worry — he always did.
Letting go of the doorknob he goes further into the apartment, chills running up his spine. His feet felt heavy as he tried not to drag them with each step. Every single one of his nerves was on edge, screaming at him to turn away and never return.
The sound of shattering glass came from the kitchen followed by a string of muffled curses that no doubt belonged to his roommate. If Tae jumped in surprise he didn’t notice as his mind zeroed in on the sound of Jungkook’s voice.
Taehyung wanted to be relieved but he just couldn’t set aside the unease that grew roots within his chest.
He picked up his pace and shuffled his way into the kitchen to see Jungkook staring blankly at the mess of broken glass at his feet — a cup Taehyung presumed. His right hand gripped at the front of his shirt while his left dangled limply at his side with his fist balled tightly. He was breathing heavily, a slight wheeze accenting each breath as if he’d just come from running a mile or something. From the way Jungkook looked, Taehyung wouldn’t say that’s too far-fetched of a conclusion. Jungkook...did not look good. Even from where he was standing Tae could see the beads of sweat layered over his abnormally pale skin. The bags under his eyes were deeper and darker than usual. His hair sat flat and limp on his head like a very old, used mop. It had grown longer, his bangs almost completely covering his eyes.
Taehyung went to say something but found himself frozen in his spot as he watched the younger. He wanted to say he was still but Taehyung noticed Jungkook weakly swaying ever so slightly.
“I can’t do that,” he begged no one in particular. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” he chanted. His voice came out in a rushed whisper as he stumbled over his own words. “Please...please don’t make me do that, not to him. Anybody but him,” he continued pleading, sounding hoarse and desperate.
He sounded scared.
Taehyung was taken aback. “Jungkook?” he called out cautiously, taking a hesitant step forward. “Jungkook, what’s wrong?”
Jungkook reacted quickly, so quickly it seemed to surprise himself judging by the squeak that left his mouth and the way he blinked his eyes in apparent confusion. He whipped around to face Taehyung and pressed his back into the counter behind him, obviously trying to put as much space between him and the other as he could.
There was an unreadable expression on his face but by the way Taehyung heard his breathing pick up, he could tell that this wasn’t just a surprised reaction.
Nothing was said for a few moments, minutes even.
The way Jungkook was staring so intensely at Taehyung made him feel like he was under the gaze of a predator. Though his expression was difficult to read his eyes were sharp and piercing. Goosebumps rose beneath his skin in response.
Locked in an unintentional staring contest, Taehyung somehow managed to pull his gaze away and down to the broken glass.
“Since when did you become clumsy Koo?” he said, forcing out a low laugh, wanting to ease the tension in the room in any way he could.
Silence.
Shaking his head a bit he clears his throat. “Here let me help, don’t want you —” he took a step forward and Jungkook shuffled away as quickly as he could, “hurt yourself...” he trailed off. His mouth pulled into a straight, fine line as he tried not to show his concern too much. “You don’t have to back away like that, you know, I don’t bite,” he said, once again trying to ease the situation but he came off more nervous than he intended.
Jungkook continued to stare.
Sighing, Taehyung walked to the pile of glass and crouched down. As he gingerly began to pick up the shards he could tell that Jungkook was still staring, the feeling burning at the back of his neck.
Jungkook’s hand, the one that wasn’t clutching his shirt, uncurled from its ball and twitched mindlessly. He swallowed the mass of saliva accumulating in his mouth; the sound, though subtle, was just audible enough for Taehyung to hear.
Taehyung took a glance over his shoulder at Jungkook and took note of the pensive look on his face. His eyes were closed and his eyebrows were practically fused together with how they were furrowed together. His mouth was just barely moving, saying something without any sound coming out. Taehyung couldn’t decipher what he was saying. Something in the room shifted and he quickly turned back to the glass, speeding up as he continued to pick the pieces up.
All the signs from before were coming back but hitting him at full force. A wave of chills ran up and down his spine and raised the hairs on his arm. It was taking every single bit of his being not to run far far away and never look back.
He had to get out of here fast and take Jungkook with him. They weren’t safe here.
“Uh,” he started, trying to find words to fill the tense air, “after I finish picking up this we should go out or something.” He cleared his throat, hoping to somehow steady his voice so as not to show that he knew something was off, just in case whatever was here was watching.
“I found this new crystal shop not too far from here. I think they just opened up. You liked it the last time we went to one, right? It should be fun.” Nodding to himself as he spoke, he slowly stood as he had gathered most of the glass. Spinning on his heels he looked up and came face to face with Jungkook. The two were practically nose to nose.
Taehyung nearly jumped out of his skin as he took quick steps backward out of pure surprise. He was confused above all else; how he hadn’t heard the younger cross the room and get that close was beyond him. At that moment his grip on the glass tightened and he managed to cut himself before dropping all that he held. “Fuck!” he hissed as he pulled his hand toward his chest.
“Not funny, Jungkook. What the hell?” he scolded as he observed the damage. He couldn’t get more than a glance in because his wrist had been ripped away from him.
Jungkook held him in a firm grip and trained his eyes on the bleeding cut that stretched across Taehyung’s finger. It was nothing serious but it was bleeding quite a bit and it did sting. Tae was quick to try and pull his hand back but Jungkook’s grip was deathly tight.
“I-It’s only a cut,” he said letting out a shaky breath. “Lemme go get a bandaid and then we can head out okay?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer as he tried to walk away. He pulled at his wrist, hoping that the younger would ease up or let go but, no, instead he stayed in place and his grip tightened.
Taehyung winced a bit and let out a nervous laugh. “Kook, you’re hurting me, let go.” He continued to try and pull away but his efforts were futile as it only tightened Jungkook’s grip.
Eventually, he starts to visibly panic. “Jungkook, let go. Please this isn’t funny.” His tone is pleading and there is fear taking over his expression. He’s gone past the point of trying to hide his true feelings, there was no use.
“I—I don’t know what’s wrong or what’s gotten into you but we — we can,” he rushes out, not even knowing what the hell he was trying to say, “go get you help for whatever is happening with you and — AH!” he cries out, his vision going white momentarily. Those words seemed to be the last push Jungkook needed as he effortlessly squeezed and let Taehyung’s wrist crack under the pressure.
Just as the sickening snap of his wrist hits Taehyung’s ears and he falls to his knees as Jungkook’s other hand goes to his shoulder and pushes him down.
“J-Jungk—” he tries to whimper out but his words were cut off as Jungkook grabs his jaw and uncomfortably presses his index finger against his lips. Taehyung looks up, tears pricking at his eyes in a mix of fear and pain, and his breath hitches in his throat at the face that looks down at him.
Taehyung’s eyes widen and he lets out a low whimper. He tries to pull away but Jungkook’s grip on his jaw and now snapped wrist tightens, keeping him in place.
His chest rises and falls in rapid succession. His brain is running a mile a minute as he tries to make sense of the situation but he ultimately comes up with nothing.
Jungkook — if he could even call him that anymore — stares down at Taehyung with a wicked, inhuman grin that stretches across his face in a way that almost looks painful. His teeth are on full display and there’s a string of drool running down the side of his mouth. His pupils are completely blown out, there being more black than brown visible. Taehyung can say with confidence that this was not his Jungkook.
He tries to choke out something else but “Jungkook” shushes him before he can.
“Fighting it will only make things worse for you,” Jungkook said, but it wasn’t only his voice. It was layered over another, deeper, voice that Taehyung had never heard leave his mouth. This wasn’t just Jungkook. “Go ahead and tire yourself out if you please. I’m getting a meal regardless.”
Taehyung immediately flinched and blinked in disbelief. The moment of shock made him freeze but as soon as he snapped out it a sob began to build up in his throat from a mix of fear, confusion, and pain. “Jungkook please!” he screamed, his voice muffled from behind the younger’s hand.
Jungkook chuckled lowly and let his tongue fall out of his mouth to sloppily drag over his lips. His sharp eyes turn to Taehyung’s now broken hand, the prick of blood on his finger quickly drawing his gaze.
Without much thought he darted his tongue out, giving a little kitten lick to his finger. His reaction is immediate. A husky groan erupts from the back of his throat and his eyelids flutter shut in a moment of euphoria. “It’s been so long,” he said, sounding out of breath as his chest heaves. From the looks of it, he is vibrating from what Taehyung can only gather as excitement. “So long since I’ve had a good meal,” he finishes abruptly.
Before Taehyung can even get a chance to process his words Jungkook has slammed his head against his face. A crack sounded throughout the kitchen as their faces connected, sending the older backward onto the floor. The back of his head slammed against the cold hard ground from the sheer force that Jungkook used. A sharp gasp left his mouth as a scream of pain got caught in his throat.
This cannot be real.
His nose felt red hot as it throbbed from the sudden contact. For a moment Taehyung could only see white and his ears began to ring.
Everything was moving too fast, his head was spinning and there was nothing he could do about it. Taehyung let out a strangled groan as he tried to roll off of his back but found that he was too disoriented to do anything. Feeling something wet hit his forehead he peels his eyes open — which he hadn’t even realized he closed — and suddenly the room was whirrling. The only thing he could truly comprehend was Jungkook’s grinning face hanging above him that for some reason wasn’t swirling with the rest of the room.
It immediately became clear to him that the “wet” on his forehead was not a miraculous case of indoor rain. No, it was very much just the abundant amount of drool escaping from Jungkook’s cheeks. Yeah, he was going to be sick.
Taehyung went to open his mouth, words just barely sitting on the tip of his tongue but then Jungkook shook his head. His hair bounced as he did, showing more life in that second than it did in the past few weeks.
“Scream all you want, but no one will get here fast enough to save you,” he chuckles darkly. “Plus, don’t you wanna spend your last few moments with your buddy Jungkookie alone? He’ll be eating you but it’s the sentiment that matters I guess.”
Tears raced down the sides of Taehyung’s face as he stared up pathetically at what was once his best friend. That was the only thing he could do, trying to run wouldn’t get him anywhere, the mere thought of having to stand up right now making him feel nauseous. “W-What did you do...who are you?” was all that he could muster up to ask. “Who— What are you?”
The question seemed to tickle whatever was... in Jungkook as a short burst of laughter left his mouth — a quick, sickening ‘HAH HA’ that under normal circumstances would probably make him laugh along.
“Don’t worry about that too much. You’ll find it out soon enough,” was the answer he was given and it left Taehyung with more questions than he initially had.
What does that mean? Who is this THING that’s inside his best friend? Why Jungkook of all people — Jungkook who is one of the best people he knows.
“I can see the gears in your head turning,” he says, tsking. He reaches down towards Taehyung’s face who whimpers in response and tries to turn his head away but he persists. With an oddly gentle touch, he wipes away the tears that race down the side of his face.
“Who knows, maybe, in another lifetime, things could’ve been different,” he says, the voices much softer and maybe even a little reluctant this time around. It was a stark contrast to how he sounded just moments ago. “I quite like you Taehyung. Hopefully, you’ll forgive him for this one day.”
He used the hand already close to Taehyung’s face to cup his cheek as if that would somehow erase the events of the last few minutes. Though, in betrayal to his mind and the broken wrist he had, Taehyung visibly relaxed instantly at the touch. His heavy breathing evens and his tensed muscles ease. He mentally curses at himself. Of course, that would happen, his eyes are still registering the person above him as Jungkook even though he knows that this thing is far from his best friend.
The split second of peace — maybe even less than that — is ripped away from him as Jungkook suddenly pulls away and grips Taehyung by the roots of his hair. He feels a burning pull as his head is lifted off the ground for a moment before being harshly slammed back down.
Taehyung wants to say he blacks out — god he wished he blacked out — but that just wasn’t the case.
He spent his last few moments crying, screaming, and begging for some sort of release from the incessant amount of pain coming his way.
When Jungkook came to he was in the running shower. Fully clothed. His legs dangled over the side of the bathtub as he was awkwardly slouched backward against the cold shower wall. The water was freezing and by the time he regained consciousness, he was shaking like a wet dog.
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he flinched as the water hit his face. His hair sat flat on his head as it was weighed down by the water. He shook his head a bit to get his bangs out of his face. Confusion washed over him as he looked down at himself. His clothes were completely soaked and for some reason, he, for the life of him, could not remember how he got here.
In fact, he couldn’t remember anything before this. The last thing he can recall was being in the kitchen with...
“HYUNG!” he suddenly screamed out in a moment of realization. Quickly, carefully, he sprung up from his uncomfortable position in the shower and almost slipped as he raced over to the door.
He leaned against the doorframe and looked out hesitantly into his dark apartment. It became increasingly obvious that a few hours had passed. The sun had already set and the only light he could register was coming from down the hall.
Jungkook has been losing time for a few weeks now. 30 minutes at most. But hours? This was something new.
He stood stiffly in the doorway just staring out into his apartment. His thoughts were racing and he was still shaking but at this point, he couldn’t tell if it was from the water or just his nerves. He racked his brain for any memory of the past few hours but he came up with nothing.
That scared him.
Squeezing his palm he called out, through gritted teeth, “Hyung!” His voice was wet and weak. Despite having lost the hours prior something within his chest sits heavy with knowledge.
Dropping his head in shame he opened his palm and stared directly at it, almost accusingly. “What did you do?” he asked out loud, quietly.
Silence.
“WHAT DID YOU DO DAMMIT?” he demanded with a mix of fear and authority in his tone.
At that, the eye that occupied his hand slowly opened and stared at him half-lidded. The brown iris stared up at him unblinkingly. It sent a chill down his spine. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing it.
It looked pretty much identical to a human eye. The only difference being that instead of on a face it was placed in the direct center of his palm. It was dragon-like — sharp and imposing. It terrified him more than anything else he’s ever encountered and he knows it.
“I did nothing you didn’t allow me to,” a voice resounded from the back of Jungkook’s mind, ringing in his ears.
Immediately he was on edge, a natural response to the intrusion of his mind.
This was exactly what Jungkook was afraid of. He shook his head, not wanting to accept the truth.
“I didn’t allow you to do anything!” he yelled, using his other hand to shakily run his fingers through his wet hair.
“You begged me to make the pain — the hunger — stop. You knew what I wanted and what would make it go away and yet you still let me take control.”
Flashes of him keeling over in pain from the sheer strength of the ache in his stomach are suddenly playing at the front of his mind and he flinches, taking a few steps back, in surprise.
“Get out of my head!” he screams. Using his free hand he grips at the side of his head, blinking rapidly in hopes of getting the images, the sensations, the emotions from that time out of his head.
“No matter how many times you beg and plead for me to leave you and I both know that I’m here to stay,” it says with such certainty that Jungkook has to whimper in response. “The sooner you stop running from the truth the easier this can become.”
Jungkook’s throat felt tight as he choked back what might’ve been a sob. “No...No! I want nothing to do with this or you . Now what did you do to Taehyung, Namjoon?” he cried out, his chest heaving. Having his name leave his mouth left a salty, heavy feeling on his tongue that Jungkook wanted to scrub at till it was raw.
He rarely said his name. Saying it would mean that Jungkook acknowledged that this situation was indeed real and happening and not a runaway nightmare gone off the rails.
He was real and he was in his head playing puppet master. Jungkook was the unwilling marionette.
There’s silence. It stretches for what seems to be an eternity — Jungkook hates it.
Just as he’s about to ask again he’s interrupted with a hearty chuckle. “Look in the mirror Jungkook.”
“W-What?”
“Look. In the. Mirror.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
Jungkook’s lips pulled back into a thin line and he stood there for a moment, contemplating what to do. He can’t even imagine what might greet him when he looks in the mirror. For the short few weeks that Namjoon has occupied Jungkook, he’s heard of and seen things that nobody his age should have had to.
“Jungkook.” His tone gives off the impression that he’s warning him. Jungkook’s heart rate picks up and he’s squeezing his eyes shut as he turns to face the mirror.
Bracing himself, he tried to even his breathing because at the rate he was going to be lightheaded at any moment now.
As he peels his eyes open he’s slow and deliberate, wanting to prolong the inevitable, whatever it might be, for as long as he could.
His eyes open and much to his surprise his own appearance stares back at him looking just as confused. He stood there for a few moments, staring at himself, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking for.
The only truly noticeable difference being how his once hollowed-out cheeks were full and plump. Maybe even a little red. The darkened bags that made a home under his eyes had disappeared. The color in his face and eyes returned and honestly, he looked far less sickly than he did just hours ago.
“What I — I don’t get it,” he murmurs, slightly in awe. In the past few weeks, he had gotten used to the pale, greasy appearance he dawned on ever since Namjoon had entered his life. To see himself no longer look like that sent a wave of subtle shock crashing over him.
“Closer.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, not quite understanding. Regardless he leaned closer to his reflection almost as if he were mesmerized by his appearance.
His eyes bounced from his different features trying to find something out of place. It wasn’t until he noticed a fallen clump of eyelashes on his right cheekbone. Unconsciously he brushed at them, expecting nothing more than the eyelashes to fall away.
But instead, it opened and
“JUNGKOOK!”
He jumped back in surprise, his back hitting the wall behind him with force as he screamed.
“WHA-” he yelled as another voice, Taehyung’s voice, sounded in his ears. He swung his head around rapidly, looking for the source. He hoped to see his hyung standing right beside him but to no avail. This was all a joke. It had to be.
“JUNGKOOK WHAT DID YOU DO?” Taehyung cried out, panicked as his labored breaths bounced on the inside of his skull.
“Hyung, I-” Jungkook stopped himself not even knowing what to say. He couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be. No, it was all some trick his mind was playing on him. Yeah, that’s it.
He raced forward and leaned all his weight on the sink before him as he practically pressed his face against the mirror.
There was another eye.
There was another god damn eye.
Beneath his left one sat an eye similar in color but the differences between them were clear. While Jungkook’s were soft and puffy this one was sharp and an abundant amount of eyelashes. Jungkook could recognize it from a mile away.
“Tae-hyung?” he whimpered, his bottom lip shaking as he tried his best not to cry. His vision blurred a bit and he quickly blinked away the tears, a part of him hoping that maybe he’d wake up more with each blink until he realized that this was all some sick and twisted dream.
“JUNGKOOK WHERE AM I? WHAT DID YOU DO?” Taehyung yelled once again.
“No no no no nono nonononononono,” Jungkook began to mutter, at this point not even registering his hyung’s words. Taehyung never yells at him, this is all wrong. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head, shaking it rapidly. Why? He doesn’t know. Maybe to try and get his voice out of his head.
His throat began to close up once again and the room began to get smaller and smaller. “I can’t, I-I can’t,” he claims to no one in particular.
Taking a stuttering step backward Jungkook quickly picks his head up and runs out the door and into his apartment. He had to get out of here. This...this was all becoming too much. He couldn't breathe. He needed to leave. He raced down the hallway as if something was nipping at his heels. Though moving quickly he was careful not to slip as his entire body was still wet from the shower.
He made it to the living room in no time, the apartment being only so big, but just as he heads for the front door he stops in his tracks. The sight of red printed footsteps catches his eyes and his breath hitches in his throat. They’re coming from the kitchen.
Suddenly he hears “Jungkook go into the kitchen,” and “Jungkook don’t go into the kitchen!” from either of his ears as if they were standing right beside him screaming. Well, one screaming panicked and the other talking in an even tone yet somehow just as loud.
He tries to go cover his ears but is stopped as he remembers the predicament with his palm.
A mix of gos, yesess, NOs, DON’Ts fills his head. It sounds like a verbal fight in his mind and it makes him dizzy.
“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” he yells as he marches forward into the kitchen without even realizing it. In that moment he didn’t really care what he might see he just wanted to try and get away from the incessant yelling in his head — which in hindsight doesn’t make too much sense.
The moment he stepped foot in the kitchen a strong, foul stench caught his attention. His expression scrunched into one of disgust yet, oddly enough, a layer of saliva immediately coated his mouth. It was an automatic reaction and he hated himself for it.
Not even seconds later did his eyes — yes, all three of them — catch the source of the horrid smell.
“I’m going to be fucking sick,” Taehyung said, his eye-widening and his words echoing Jungkook’s thoughts.
Jungkook slammed a hand over his mouth as he let out a terrified cry, it came out muffled but the pain was heard nonetheless.
There, not even a few feet away, lied Taehyung, or what was left of him at least. His body had been mutilated beyond recognition, his stomach ripped open with pieces of his entrails surrounding him. Flies buzz around his body, diving every so often. Chunks of his flesh had been ripped out, visible bite marks left on his neck and arms. He was practically surrounded in a puddle of his own blood, yet, somehow, it managed to get just about everywhere. Under the table, splattered against the cabinets, and Jungkook wouldn’t even be surprised if he saw specs on the ceiling.
The only thing that seemed to be left intact was his face and even then just barely as it seemed that his eyes had been gouged out and were nowhere to be found. His tongue rested heavy in his mouth.
Legs feeling weak, he buckled under his weight, his knees hitting the ground harshly. It was a stinging, sharp pain but it all felt numb to him.
His ears began to ring and at this point, he hadn’t even tried to stop himself from crying this time around. A stream of tears gushed down his already damp face and if he paid enough attention he would’ve noticed that, yes, all three of his eyes were crying. One more than the others it seemed.
He swears he hears someone calling his name but it all seems so distant as he can only focus on the carnage before him.
Sobbing, he reached his shaky hand out to Taehyung’s body and called out his name weakly as if that would wake him. “Hyung please, please don’t leave me. Get up,” he cried out, not even caring about his volume at this point.
“Jungkook. . .”
He shakes his head no.
“Jungkook.”
He shakes his head again, this time with a bit more force. “Hyung get up!” he screamed.
“JUNGKOOK I CAN’T GET UP!” Taehyung yelled, almost sounding angry.
And like an already cracked mirror shattering, he fell apart even more. Jungkook fell forward into a full bow with his forehead pressed against the ground, just inches away from the drying blood, and used his hands to cover his head in a complete act of shame. Sobs wracked his body, sending him shaking even more so than he already was. His throat quickly went raw as he tried his hardest to hold back the noise he was making but to no avail as his body just seemed to let it happen.
To make things even worse he swears he can hear the broken sobs of Taehyung echoing in his mind.
“You poor, pathetic boy,” Namjoon’s voice said, sounding almost sympathetic. Almost. His words only seemed to make Jungkook cry even harder. To be reminded of Namjoon’s presence felt like a smack to the face.
“Wh-Why won’t you l-leave me alone,” he managed to choke out, hiccuping as he tried to do so.
“You know I can’t do that. Trust me, if I didn’t need a vessel I wouldn’t be here, but here we are.”
“Just leave m-me al-alone,” Jungkook pleaded, not knowing what else he could do.
“Jungkook, stop making this so hard. We are one now: you, me, and your Taehyung, and there’s nothing neither you nor I can do about it.”
“No!” he mewled, at this point not knowing what else to say.
“Look at it this way,” Namjoon starts, “It’s either you capitulate to me, succumb, or you let all three of us starve and whittle away until you lose control and, well, somebody else ends up like Taehyung over there. That time around I won’t be there to make sure you’re not conscious of it.
“Do you want to fall victim to that hunger again, Jungkook? Do you?”
For weeks Jungkook had been battling an almost indescribable pain in his stomach that seemed to be insatiable. Even when he did eat, when his stomach was full to the brim, he always felt empty and on the verge of starving. Nothing he ate was enough. He always wanted — no, needed — more and more and more and more. It was a paint that left him weak and hounded at his bones with every movement.
Jungkook never wants to go through that again.
“Exactly. Now get up and stop fucking crying. Clean yourself up. I'll make sure your Taehyung settles in. Then we can dispose of the body together. Okay?” Namjon’s words toward the end were saccharine, lulling the younger into a sweet sense of security; calming him even.
Jungkook slowly sits up, still sniffling and letting a few hiccups slip out. His eyes, dead and dull, stare intensely at the body before him.
“Jungkook don’t you dare trust that thing! Don’t you fucking da-!” Taehyung starts but is quickly cut off almost unnaturally as if he was a recording that got turned off.
With a labored, shaking breath he exhales. His shoulders drooped as he did so. “Yeah,” he says, his voice quiet and broken. “Okay.”
“Good.”