Chapter Text
How Jungkook ended up giving you a piggyback up the mountain, you don’t know. All it took was you sighing, asking if the two of you could take a break for your friend to slip the backpack from his shoulders, crouching down for you, his lower pair of arms slipping under your thighs, while his first pair of hands easily picked up the bag, continuing the hike home.
Even in the blaring afternoon sun, Jungkook doesn’t break a sweat. You wonder if it’s because of his demonic genes or if his new habit of working out was paying off.
You could feel the muscles of his back flex through Jungkook’s woven shirt, a change from the silk hanboks he usually wore. And maybe you would have to ask him to wear less layers more often, the simple shirt and pants doing wonders for your eyes. (You could appreciate a solid set of muscles when you needed to). But Jungkook didn’t need to know about what you fantasised he would do with those muscles, more than content using him as a means of transport than boosting his already massive ego.
He doesn’t complain when you swing your legs back and forth, simply tightening his grip on your legs so you wouldn’t fall. And you wonder how he was so patient with you all the time. Sleepless nights spent by your side, with fresh honey sweet tea and his voice soft enough to lull you to a dreamless sleep. Tearful lessons on how to read and write. And if you threw a tantrum or two, you’re glad Jungkook never teased you about them later on, only promptly encouraging you to try again because he knew you would be able to do it.
He smiles when you rest your head on his shoulder, fidgeting finally calming down as you wear yourself out. He imagines you must be tired after the constant travelling, never really having time to recuperate before you were on the move again. You’d slept most of the journey home, splayed across his lap but he doesn’t think it was the most comfortable ride, the road rockier than he had remembered it to be.
“How did you like the trip? I’m sure we can go on another one soon” Jungkook asks, voice barely above a whisper, worried maybe you had drifted off to sleep again.
You hum, “I had a lot of fun, thank you kookie” your arms tighten around his neck, “I’m happy staying home for a while, travelling makes me sleepy”
Jungkook beams.
Home.
He doesn’t think you’ll ever fully acknowledge how much it means to him that you believe his run-down house on the mountain is home. For you, the word so simple, possibly meaningless, to Jungkook- it’s the final push he needs to eradicate any sort of guilt he had about keeping you by his side for the rest of time. Surely you wouldn’t be mad at him when you consider this place home, perfectly sat by his side as you both live your lives intertwined.
He tilts his head down to press a firm kiss on your arms hooked around his neck. Cheeks flushing pink as he fantasises about all the memories the two of you are going to make over the years, in your home. Suddenly all worries about money or lack of and the dangers of humans knowing he lived on the mountain were buried deep within the crevices of his mind. Measly worries that he would solve when the time came to it because you two were going home. Together. Just the two of you.
No Namjoon trying to sabotage his relationship, feeding you stupid lies, planting the seed of doubt into your mind that could spoil his plans completely. You didn’t need to know the troubles he has gone through, nor will you ever need to know of his plans for the next years ahead. So he’d rip the seeds from the soil before they could start to sprout.
Taehyung was a nice friend, but Jungkook was incredibly selfish. It had been convenient his long-time friend had contracted a disease. It would have been so easy to just feed Taehyung his blood and for his illness to disappear like it had never plagued his body in the first place. You’d healed like nothing had ever happened in the first place so he can only assume that a little of his blood would have taken Taehyung a long way; the affects of the disease reversing until he was as good as new.
But then Jungkook would have to share you. Have your attention divided, because you were just too kind for your own good and would never think to neglect Taehyung of your time. What if you fell in love with him? Decided that because he was human like yourself, he was a better match. The perfect love story, fate bringing the two of your lost souls together, fitting together like lost puzzle pieces. Leaving Jungkook to rot alone, forced into a life of solitude where he can only smile as you flaunt your love in his face.
Jungkook had never believed in something as trivial as fate, nor did he care for what destiny had in store for him. But he believes that due to lucifer’s luck, he was able to avoid killing Taehyung with his own four hands. Fate working in its own twisted way, easily mapping out a clear path for him to pull you down. He’s sure you would have eventually figured out Taehyung was killed by his own hands, and he couldn’t have you hating him after all he has done for you.
Jungkook was selfish—is selfish. You were like a beacon of light, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. How was he meant to let go of you when he loves you so much? He’d always believed love to be a trivial emotion humans felt, a shallow way to brag to others who hadn’t found their soulmate yet. But now he gets it. Love was warm, cocooning him in your soft embrace, unadulterated and precious. A constant pull to stay by your side, touch you, feel you, tell you all the little secrets he keeps locked up in his deranged mind, for him to be your safe space and for you to be his.
How could he give up such a nice emotion? Possibly feel the wretched heartache if you were to ever deny him of the love he craves so much?
Loving you was a drug. And now that he had gotten a taste, he doesn’t think he could ever give it up. An addiction with no plans of being sober. His plans of keeping you alive for the rest of eternity only providing him an endless supply of you to love.
“Staying home for a while sounds good” he hums, cheeks aching at how large his smile was.
+++
You stare up at the ceiling, clutching Taehyung’s blanket closer to your chest. The smell that you’d slowly starting to associate with Taehyung, comfort, slowly morphing into your own the more time you spent curled up in his bed. His room starting to smell stale as the seasons changed and no one inhabited his area of the hanok.
After some convincing, Jungkook had wandered off to run the two of you a bath while you slipped into Taehyung’s room. Telling him you wanted to tell your friend about your trip. (Which was partially the truth). You’d started to realise that Jungkook was always by your side, clung to you like a leech wherever you went. And if you wanted to figure out what exactly was going on inside that head of his without alarming him, then you’d need some time to yourself. Which was impossible.
There were fleeting moments where you could ask him to do something for you, but even then, the man seemed to move at the speed of light, raring to be close to you again. Like the very thought of not being by your side made his skin itch.
“Did you know Tae?” you ask, a small part of you expecting a reply from him. Maybe a way for you to know he was really there, a sudden gust of wind, or for him to knock over his paintbrushes. Anything to let you know he really had been looking over you this whole time. Your guardian angel just like he promised.
There’s a beat of silence before you exhale a large breath. Tense shoulders falling loose as you sink further into Taehyung’s pillows when nothing happens.
“It’s okay if you did, I won’t be angry”
Your eyes flit around the room, looking over the paintings you’d sat and traced with your fingers more times than you could count. Everything in the exact same place you’d left it before your trip.
“Do you think it’s wrong that I won’t say anything? Scared that if Jungkook were to know he would suddenly hate me?”
Your eyes fall onto a familiar painting of the courtyard. Fragments of memories drifting through your mind like the seeds of dandelions would in that very courtyard when the winds were strong. Taehyung having to hold your shoulders on more than one occasion before you’d fall flat on your face.
“Is it bad that I stay here because I know it’s safe? Am I a bad person for taking advantage of Jungkook’s kindness? Because I know he likes me enough to stay by my side”
Where you a bad person for ignoring the clear signs that Jungkook’s ideas of love were far from a regular person? You don’t kill a man for touching someone you love, even if it was harassment. And you know Jungkook did it, you’d heard the whispers around town on your way out about the four-armed monster that had murdered a man by Hope’s Inn. You’d heard Jungkook slink back into the room as the moon had started to melt into the horizon that night, you could practically feel the bloodlust coursing through his veins as he kissed your forehead; the same hands that had pulled a man limb from limb cupping your cheek so gently.
But when he said he hadn’t done it, that he would never kill a person, you accepted the lie with open arms. Because if neither of you addressed the issue then it never happened. He never killed a man and you never accused him of doing so.
And you both continued with your lives like nothing had happened; more than happy to bask in each other’s embrace like you had been all this time.
And maybe you should have left at that moment, aware that Jungkook isn’t a saint. He was a demon. A selfish, lying, deceitful demon who clearly had no care for morals. But you stayed. Clinging onto that last bit of hope, the last piece of knowledge; that Jungkook loves you.
You chose to stay when once again Jungkook had lied. You should have run when you’d found out he’d somehow kept you alive for 6 years while you were dreaming about golden glades that to this day you have hardly any recollection of. You should have known he was lying when he had brought an ominous book to the room of your inn, claiming it was a history book.
It wasn’t.
Far from a history book.
The contents of the book helping fill in a few holes in your life, memories that felt like a phantom dancing around your mind, but never a coherent thought of what had happened in those few days between you and Taehyung visiting the village to his unfortunate demise.
You believed Jungkook when he said that Taehyung had died from a disease, your conversation with Namjoon about a plagued town helping you with that. But now you knew you were never ill.
Small glimpses into a window of the past were presented to you upon reading Jungkook’s ‘history’ book.
You trip over the end of a blanket when you push yourself off of Taehyung’s bed, grunting when you stagger forwards. You turn towards his mattress on the floor, ready to push it back up against the wall when your eyes catch sight of something.
You drop Taehyung’s blanket, fingers digging into the worn mattress, lifting it from the ground.
You feel a rush of air escape your lungs.
Laid beneath Taehyung’s mattress was more notebooks. Ones he’d never told you about. Ones he didn’t keep stacked with the pile tucked away in the far corner of his bedroom. You try to balance the mattress on your shoulder as you kneel beside what you assume to be 15 or so worn and torn leatherbacks; some looked years old, while others looked almost brand new.
You pick up the one that had been peeking out from under the bed after you’d knocked it out of place. Assuming that it must be the most recent book Taehyung had been using as it lay under his head while he slept.
You drop the mattress back into place, wincing when the thud echoes off the walls. You bite your lip, turning towards the door.
You hold your breath, ears on high alert as you listen out for Jungkook.
Deciding that your demon friend was being a little too quiet you decide that this was going to have to be a speedy process.
You wouldn’t have enough time today to look through all of Taehyung’s stuff, but maybe you’d figure out if he had any knowledge of what Jungkook has been doing for years.
You still hadn’t fully been able to comprehend years of your life had been washed away in the blink of an eye. The world having changed so much in a mere 6 years as you lay stagnant, time for you freezing.
Carefully you peel back the leather cover of the notebook.
You swallow at what had been carved into the back if the leather sleeve.
‘a nightmare’
And as you turn the page, an image that you had become well acquainted with during the silence of the night greets you.
Taehyung had always been good at drawing, always had an eye for detail and you’re grateful for his skills in that moment.
A vivid image of a ritual, similar to the one you read in the ominous book Jungkook had bought. Similar to the jittery dreams you’d been having for the last few nights since you’d recovered part of your memories.
A figure that looks eerily similar to yourself lay limp on the bed, with a four-armed demon sat one side of the room that looked identical to Jungkook’s bedroom, a human against the adjacent wall. Both looking familiar. And messily scrawled on the floor is a circle, an intricate design painted in the middle, the same one you’d seen in Jungkook’s book. The black ink Taehyung used, smudged, over your chest and over the demon’s hands and clothes.
You’d never considered the dreams you’d been having as nightmares, everything too blurry to really mean anything to you unless you tried to piece the odd fragments together, like one would with a broken vase. And as soon as you’d wake, the awful pressure of a person pinning you to the ground would leave. Jungkook’s soft smile enough for you to forget the bone-chilling dream even happened.
“Thanks, Taehyung” you smile, softly closing the notebook.
+++
Jungkook hadn’t noticed you’d been a lot quieter than usual, assuming you were still tired from your weeks travel. You’d never been outwardly boisterous, often times happy to keep quiet. So, your sudden silence wasn’t all that alarming.
He’d helped you wash your back, taking extra care not to get soap in your eyes when he gently washed your hair. He treated you like you were a delicate piece of china, one wrong move and you would shatter into a thousand pieces. But you suppose if you were to break; Jungkook would just pick up the pieces and mould you back together.
And you were confused.
Completely and utterly confused.
When he kissed at your bare shoulders, you should have felt repulsed. Petrified, because you have an idea of what he has done to you. The drawing from Taehyung paired with the book Jungkook had picked up, enough evidence to give you a hint of the past.
He’s had— has, he has your blood on his hands.
You’d want to compare this constant push and pull between your own emotions to a prison, feeling trapped within the confines of your own mind. But you’d been locked away, locked behind steel bars with barely and food and water, standing in the sunlight nothing more than a daydream. Stripped of your freedom and treated as nothing more than a piece of meat to feed to a demon. The perfect sacrifice for selfish human beings. And the thought of Jungkook had never felt like being locked away; quite the opposite.
And said demon, has done so much more for you than your people had. A child, penalised for being different, shunned for standing out when you never wanted to. Why was it so hard to have a regular life? To not worry every time you were out, people of your own village wary of you because you didn’t look like them. The beady eyes that would follow your every move, upturned noses because you were less than a human in their eyes.
Jungkook had never treated you as anything less than an equal. Sure, he’d done a few bad things… but haven’t we all?
You don’t feel scared of Jungkook when he kisses your cheeks. You don’t feel the same fear you used to, wondering each night if someone would finally have enough and end your life while you slept. Because Jungkook sat beside you during the dead of night, and he was there in the morning. The promise of protecting you in your most vulnerable state unspoken, but guaranteed.
You don’t feel nauseated when Jungkook wraps you up in his arms after your bath, the same hands that had killed a man, had hurt you, as he runs the silky towel over your body, worried you would catch a cold as the evening temperature drops.
You couldn’t remember the pain he had inflicted on you.
You hadn’t watched him kill that snotty old man… so did those things really happen?
You lay in Jungkook’s bed, with a plethora of blankets neatly tucked up to your chin.
Your fingers trace the ridges on the wooden bunny you’d bought Jungkook in Namjoon’s village, and when you think back to then, and to you now; how much has really changed?
You’re still that same scared girl, the world too big for you to experience alone. Your own thoughts too much for you to carry, the anxiety weighing you down until you stand stagnant; unsure of what to do with yourself and your life. Constantly needing the reassurance of those around you, otherwise you might crumble. Spiral into an endless hole of self-doubt and hatred.
Nothing much has changed from when you were younger, still constantly in denial. Convincing yourself your life was worth living, that you were okay. That if you just woke up and prayed for the hours to feel like minutes, you’d be able to drift into your own little world while you slept, the perfect place where no one would judge you; only to wake up alongside the sun and pray for the day to end once again. Stuck in a sad, meaningless loop that you’ll never escape while alive.
The small wooden bunny serves as a painful reminder that you’re just as fragile as you were the day you’d gotten beaten up in the village, unable to defend yourself. Scared that if you were to fight back, you’d face potentially worse consequences. And now you face a similar dilemma, you suppose, fearing your own mind. A constant battle on what the right thing to do is. If you left, would Jungkook chase after you? Would he be the one to follow you around like a lost puppy like you do with him? If you were to leave and he follow, what was the point of leaving to begin with?
Your head shoots up to look at the door when you hear a loud thud from the courtyard.
After a beat of silence, you turn to look at Jungkook who looks just as confused as you feel.
He turns to look at you, both of you seemingly holding your breath. And then you flinch when a loud clatter sounds from another room in the hanok.
Jungkook hastily closes the book he was reading; one you’d seen him read over and over since you’d arrived; one where he would read you small snippets while you cleaned the courtyard with Taehyung.
“I’ll go and check what it is” he tells you, crouching beside your body. He pressed a firm kiss to the crown of your head, using one of his hands to lift your chin so you’d look at him.
“Stay here” is all he says before he’s pushing himself off of the ground.
The candle by the bed flickers when Jungkook slams the door, and you listen as his sandals clatter against the hardwood floor; slowly getting quieter and quieter as he wanders further into the hanok.
Something feels off.
The silence feels numbing, the sound of static crackling in your ears. And then you smell it, your nose scrunching up at the smell of wood burning.
Unfamiliar voices bounce off the walls, the pattering of footsteps outside being drowned out by the loud beating of your heart. A constant thump ringing in your ears.
It’s when you hear the voices right outside the bedroom door you throw the blankets off of your body, eyebrows furrowing when a thick black smoke starts to snake its way into the room under the door. You can feel the adrenaline course through your veins, body suddenly hyperaware of any sound that reverberates throughout the room, cautious of the loud chatter outside of the door.
“Jungkook?” You call out, wandering over towards the door, thinking maybe he had made his way back to the room.
You know he told you to stay put, but your lungs were starting to feel tighter as more of the thick black smoke started to permeate the air of Jungkook’s bedroom. Starting to panic when the air felt a little too thick to breathe properly.
You press an ear to the door, goosebumps prickling the skin of your arms when you hear laughter, the sound of the front gate being slammed shut, wood snapping as the voices grew quieter.
Your gaze falls down to your feet where you notice the wispy black smoke start to coat the hardwood floor.
You can feel your lung start to squeeze for air, your throat suddenly feeling ashy as you try to pull the bedroom door open, your arms yanking it.
You feel the panic start to set as the door stays lodged shut, your arms straining as you tug at the handle. Praying that it would open, the smell of burning wood and thick black smoke clawing into your airways, slipping into your lungs.
You stumble back when you feel the ground shake, what you can only assume to be the structure of the hanok slowly deteriorating as the fire swallows the dry wood of your home. You’d learnt from Taehyung that dryer wood is likely to have a more aggressive fire, and if it really was right outside your door then you worried for your life.
“Jungkook?” you shout, one of your hands scrambling to pull the door open as the other covers your nose and mouth, your lung constricting as you start to splutter, coughing as you inhale the smoke.
You slide down the door, and you wonder if you’re crying, or your eyes just sting. Both plausible options, but neither of them helping you in your escape.
“Jeon Jungkook” you cry, hands weakly clawing at the door.
Using the backs of your hands to wipe away your tears, your eyes scan the room.
You catch sight of the fresh bucket of water Jungkook had brought into the room incase either of you got thirsty in the night. You push your body off of the ground, biting your lip in thought as you eye the blankets on the bed.
Deciding they would be too big, you pull your pyjama shirt from your body, shoving the material into the bucket of water you cough, chest starting to hurt.
You cover your nose and mouth with the sodden material, pushing the small, round table against the wall under the window. Even with the extra leverage, the widow is above your head. You swallow thickly, coughing behind your shirt.
Your eyes squeeze shut when the roof creaks, and that pushes you to scramble and grab the bucket, turning it upside-down on the table.
You push yourself up onto the bucket, dropping your soaked shirt to the ground as you use your elbow to try and break the wooden blinds open. Uncaring as your skin splits, the thought of wood splinters piercing your skin the last thing on your mind as you make a large enough gap to escape through.
You start to cough uncontrollably as a wave of fresh air pushes into the room, and you take a moment to just breathe, arms aching as you hang onto the widow.
You wheeze as your head turns to the door, flinching backwards the walls start to crisp up, burning flames dancing like a phoenix as they wander into the bedroom. You feel the heat, hands shaky as it slowly slithers its way around the room, your skin starting to feel scorched as you just watched it start to chew at the floors, wide jaws opening to swallow Jungkook’s bed.
And you watch slowly as the flames lick at the wooden rabbit, you watch as its ears start to burn like candles until its whole body is engulfed into the flames.
It’s when you feel the fire slink too close to your ankles, you finally pull yourself up and out of the window. You ignore the sharp pain that shoots through your body as you land on your feet, stumbling around the side of the building until you’re stood in the courtyard. All the buildings around you burning, bright orange flames engulfing your home completely, dancing like flowers in the wind.
Your hand comes to cradle your throat, coughing as you fall back onto the grass. Your lungs greedily suck in as much oxygen you can take, making you feel lightheaded as your eyes adjust; watching the stars twinkle from the heavens.
You wonder if the stars were watching over you right now; laughing at a pitiful human who almost lost their life. The stars that once brought you so much comfort now felt a little mocking as you heaved to breathe a proper breath. You’d always wondered what it would be like to live among the stars, and now you think it would be better than living on earth, free of the torture that people have to go through; laughing as you watch humans look like insects, living day to day.
You push yourself to sit up. The skin of your ankle stinging as the grass brushes against where the fire had gotten too close to your bare skin, your elbow dripping with red that could rival that of the flames before your eyes; staining the land beside you crimson.
You don’t call out for Jungkook, simply staring at what used to be your home, the crackling of the flames filling the silence of the night. You wonder where he could have gone; not coming when you called out his name.
Your eyes flit over towards the stone path when you hear heavy footsteps, watching as Jungkook stumbles through the flames. Half of his clothes looking charred, the skin of his four arms looking raw and red, but you suppose demons have thicker skin than humans’, so he hadn’t gotten burnt. You don’t miss the blood that is splattered over his clothes either, the dark red looking almost black in the light of the flames.
His gaze instantly falls onto you, eyes trailing to your chest; the top half of your body covered in nothing more than your undergarments.
He falls to his knees besides you, all four arms reaching to pull you into his chest. You fall forwards, nose itching as you breath in a few of the ashes that had clung onto his shirt.
You hear the thud of his book falling to the ground as his hands roam your body, silently convincing himself that you were okay.
Grounding himself; you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he lets out a shaky breath against the bare skin on your shoulder.
You don’t bother to ask what had happened, why he has blood on his shirt or why the hanok was starting to crumble before your eyes; you simply let a few tears stain your flushed cheeks. Jungkook slightly pulling you away from his body, one of his hands coming to brush the tears that shined like little pearls in the light of the fire.
Both of your heads turn when you hear the large tree in the courtyard crack, the fire clawing its way up the trunk.
Jungkook takes a hold of your wrists, pulling you from the ground. He crouches down, picking up the book he’d bought in the capital before he pulls you towards the gate.
You stare down at the busted wood, splinters scattered across the entrance. Clearly someone had broken in. As you step over the split wood, you trip; the offending item being the sign you’d first seen upon arriving all those years ago.
Somehow it looked worse than when you’d first seen it, mud smeared into the crevices of the shoddily engraved ‘Jeon’, a corner snapped off where someone too heavy had carelessly stood on it.
Both Jungkook and yourself turn back towards the hanok once you’d passed the fence; you feel his fingers slip between your own, sending you a reassuring squeeze you don’t turn to look at him. Both of you just watch as your home burns, the fire never-ending as it consumes what had become so familiar.
Jungkook licks his lips, all the years he’d spent there suddenly gone to waste. All the books he’d collected, the rooms he’d constructed himself, the house he’d built from nought amounting to nothing more than a pile of ashes and broken memories.
“What about Taehyung’s stuff? His grave?” you ask, hand coming to cover your mouth as you cough.
Jungkook hums, “I’d assume it’s all burnt”
The sigh you let out is shaky, hand coming to push the stray hairs out of your face; you suppose there was no point crying when the damage had already been done. You’d slowly come to accept that you had no way of changing the past, that you’d have to live with every regret and mistake you’ve ever made.
You knew none of this was your fault, but you couldn’t help but feel sorry for yourself. You hadn’t even been back for a day before something had gone wrong.
“Let’s go” Jungkook tugs at your hand, not daring to look at your face.
Maybe he would cry if he looked at you. How could he look at you when he had failed you once again?
Everything was meant to get better, not worse. You were meant to live your secluded life together; in the home he had built. He would have found you another pet, watched as you danced around the courtyard in the spring and during the winter months, he’d have an excuse to hold you extra close. You were meant to watch the world change together, laugh about the past and make plans for your infinite future spent together.
How was Jungkook meant to look at you when he clearly couldn’t give you the world?
“Where?” you ask, little resistance coming from you as he pulls you down a familiar path.
“We can’t live here anymore, my love”
You take one more glance, diverging your gaze to settle on Jungkook’s back as the two of you made your descent from the mountain.
+++
The village where you’d been kept prisoner for a year was a ghost town; the soil fertile where the livestock had decayed, bones of what you could only suspect were human laying scattered among torn clothes and steadily growing weeds.
“Did the people of Namjoon’s village do that?” you motion towards the mountain that loomed over the village you both stood in. Fire hidden behind the veil of trees and bushes.
“I think so” Jungkook briefly turns his head to look at you, “This village and Namjoon’s are the only two close to the mountain. I know my kind aren’t well liked anymore but I doubt anyone would travel more than a day just to do this”
You nod, feet bringing yourself to a halt when you both reach the centre of the village.
Jungkook turns to you with furrowed brows, opening his mouth to ask you why you’d stopped. You just tug your hand from his own, and Jungkook watches as you take a step towards a large wooden pole stood upright.
“Y/n?” Jungkook asks, coming to stand beside you.
You turn to look over your shoulder, the stone building where you’d been kept prisoner looking exactly the same as when you had left it.
“You remember I told you about a friend?” you say, a bitter feeling crawling up your spine.
Jungkook nods. An emotion akin to jealousy plaguing his mind at the mention of the friend you still clearly hold dear to your heart. Jungkook would just have to erase those insignificant memories from your mind.
“They killed him here, tied to that” you point to the thick pole, “And they locked me up in there” you use your thumb to point to the structure behind you.
“I’m sorry. This was the only place I could think would be safe for us”
You finally look at Jungkook, noticing the guilt that swims behind his eyes. You smile; albeit a little sad, you still smile. It was an honest mistake on his part, but you couldn’t help but how heartwarming it was for him to feel so bad about it.
“It’s okay” you wave him off, “They all look dead by the looks of things anyways. I know a good place we can camp out in”
Jungkook follows behind you, nodding in satisfaction as you open the door to the village chief’s house.
“This should be spacious enough” you nod, cringing as a spider scuttles across the room.
“What are we going to do for food?” Jungkook kneels on the floor, running a hand over his face, “And money”
You watch as he fiddles with the pockets of his pants, a few coins jingling as they knock against one another.
You drop yourself in front of him, “We’re really fucked this time”
Jungkook just watches as you fidget, the dusty floor less than ideal; “I’ll see if there’s anything we can eat”
…
Jungkook was panicking, what if you starved to death? He knew damn well that there wasn’t anything left in this town, he knew that no one had been here since it was overrun by the flesh-eating disease 6 years ago; so the likelihood of there being anything remotely edible was close to none.
A door creaks as he pulls it open, sneezing when the best he gets from the old home was a puff of dust smothering his face. He wanders into what he assumes to be the kitchen, frowning when he sees there’s nothing you can eat.
He pulls the top from a woven basket, nose scrunching up in distaste at the family of maggots that had found a warm home. He continues his search, hoping that at least one of the baskets had something edible for you to eat until he came up with a better plan.
He knows he could send you over to Namjoon’s village, the village boy and his mother more than happy to house and feed you; but that would mean leaving you out of his sight for too long, he knew he wasn’t welcome in that village. Presumably burnt at the stake if he stepped foot into the village on the other side of the mountain.
And Jungkook was selfish—selfish enough to possibly let you starve if it meant he could stay by your side.
He curses at himself when the best he can find is a handful of dried tea leaves. His gaze wanders down to the book he holds in one of his hands; was now really a good time?
He gazes back at the chief’s house as he passes by, easily slipping into the blacksmith’s workroom to grab a piece of flint and a slab of steel.
One of his free hands picking up a bucket, the river easy to locate with how quiet it was; the running water filling the silence.
+++
A weird sense of déjà vu settles over the two of you; both sat at a table with Jungkook reading while you were the only one with a cup of tea.
“Are you not going to have any?” you ask, watching as he simply shakes his head; eyes not meeting your own.
You slightly nodded, lips pursed at his dismissive behaviour. You carefully picked up the teacup before taking a small sip. It was bitter; no fresh honey to make it a little sweeter.
You made eye contact with Jungkook, “Is there something wrong? You’re acting weird” you ask him as he just shakes his head, eyes flitting down back to his book.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” he asks after noticing you’d finished your tea.
You shake your head, “I’m not really tired after what happened”
“Pretty thing… you really should get some rest” he encourages, you flinch when he closes his book with force, the thud echoing off of the walls, amplified by the lack of furniture.
“I’m really okay”
“Y/n listen to me” sounded more like a command than a request and you swallow thickly, searching his eyes.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on” you argue eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he stands; long legs helping him saunter towards you, looking at you like a wolf would a deer.
“What are you doing?” you lean back when he crouches at your side.
Your eyes search his own, a shiver running down your spine when you don’t recognise the man stood before you. Sure, he looked like Jungkook, but Jungkook had never looked at you like that. Like his patience was wearing thin, jaw clenching like he was ready to snap.
“Can’t you just listen for once” his voice drops as octave, hand coming to hold your face.
You feel his nails dig into the flesh of your cheeks, wincing when the pain spreads through your jaw.
He pushes your face away, hard enough you fall backwards; head slamming against the hardwood floor.
“What is your problem?” you glare at him, trying to push yourself to sit up once again, utterly confused about his sudden change in behavior.
Jungkook straddles your waist, first pair of arms coming to hold your own hands above your head.
“Jungkook?” you wriggle, trying to kick your legs when the sun doesn’t shine just so he would get off of you.
“I’m sorry” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss between your eyebrows, a stark difference from his previous actions.
You try to yank your hands from his hold, suddenly aware of what his other pair of hands were doing. The blade of the knife reflects the moonlight that spills in through the open door.
“Jungkook, please” you cry, his face looking like a mix of colours as tears start to paint the sides of your face.
You think his resolve breaks, the hands restricting your own loosening enough for you pull them from his hold. You scramble to find the pocketknife Jungkook had given you in the capital; anything to get him off of you. Because even through the veil of tears, this wasn’t the Jungkook you know.
The tips of your fingers graze the intricate handle of the pocketknife; a fleeting sense of hope washing over your body.
The relief is short lived, your limbs seizing up when a searing pain shoots through your chest.
You mouth drops open, a silent scream of agony. You think you can hear Jungkook muttering apologies over and over in your ear as he leans down to hold you, cautious of the knife still wedged into your heart.
You swallow thickly, metallic liquid bubbling up your throat and coating your tastebuds.
Jungkook cries; the tears making you look like a mess of red as you lay limp in his arms.
He tries to wait, hoping that maybe if he could let you rest for a moment moving you outside would be a lot less painful on your part. But from the sobs of pain, you let out, he doesn’t think waiting would do you any good. So, he picks you up, wincing at your cry of agony when he jolts you too much.
He steps into the circle he’d drawn out earlier before making you tea, his blood soaking into the dusty ground.
You don’t fully comprehend Jungkook flicking through his book, the throbbing pain in your chest enough of a distraction. You blink up at him when he positions himself over your waist once more, eyes bleary as you try to make out his face; his chocked sobs enough of an indication that he was crying.
And you briefly wonder, if he was going to cry for doing this to you… then why was he doing it? Surely, he couldn’t be that sorry if he knew it would hurt beyond belief.
“No no, baby. Don’t close your eyes just yet” he taps your cheeks, “It’s almost over just stay awake a little longer”
You can only grunt when he jostles your body, eyes closing as you pray the pain would just go away; both emotional and physical.
Maybe you should have run; if Jungkook had hurt you once what was stopping him from doing it again? You should have left once you knew what he planned.
But even if you knew—if someone had warned you of this exact moment, had shown you exactly how this day would play out. You wouldn’t have left.
Because even in this moment, with Jungkook looming over your tired body; pain turning your body numb. Nothing more than a pile of flesh and bones at that point, no coherent thought running through your shocked mind, you would have stayed. You’re still that same scared girl that you have been, scared to be alone, scared of the very town you lay in because of what they put you through; scared because what if you died?
The last thought running through your mind being how betrayed you felt in that moment mingled with the searing pain of a knife lodged into your chest, pierced right into your beating heart.
A small part of you hoped you’d die in this moment. If Jungkook really does love you, you hope he feels the heartache—worse than the current pain you physically felt with a knife lodged into your heart. A petty thought, but you really did hate him in that moment.
But was it really hate?
You hate the humans that kept you captive, you hate whatever disease took Taehyung’s life, you hate the bastards that killed your cat and got away with it.
You hated feeling hate because it was such an awful feeling, the ugly emotion burning like the flames that had destroyed the hanok; consuming your entire being until you had nothing to fuel the fire.
But even as you lay in a puddle of your own crimson blood, knife protruding from your heart with Jungkook holding onto you like you’d leave if he ever let go; you don’t hate him. You don’t feel that same ugly emotion, you don’t want him dead, you don’t want karma to bite him in the ass.
And even with a hazy mind, him being the reason for the excruciating pain you were experiencing; you just couldn’t seem to hate Jeon Jungkook.
So you let him hold you, muttering something in a language you don’t understand, the circle that you both sit in burning your back, adding to the torturous feeling in your chest. Your mouth producing nothing more than labored breaths as you try to endure it with fresh saline tears coating the sides of your head in glistening little pearls.
And you think as you lose consciousness, you hear Jungkook mutter a soft ‘well done’ into your ear.
And maybe you had lost your mind, because you felt the swell of happiness override the pain at his praise, content as you fall into the dark void of your own mind.