Chapter Text
Park Jimin
Silver doors to muted worlds that once were everything for other halves. Coal symbols, the only remaining testimony of what once was Kim Taehyung. It casts away darkening nuances that are there to remind people of what has been left of the figure previously awake.
The warmth is making the gravel glow, but the words are burning onto the back of his scalp. He feels them banging and banging until it’s the only sound he hears. It results once again in watery stains on livid skin. He can’t take his eyes off the stone. The fucking burial stone that stands erect from the ground. It’s green all around like it’s trying to mock the relic that lays under it. It fucking flourishes, it feeds out of former breathing bodies and sucks the life out of the living ones.
Jimin glares at it with the corner of his eye, never taking them off the black grazed letters, never leaving that damned thing that signalizes wide and proud that right under that thick layer of grass and dirt lays a dead Kim Taehyung.
The flowers have started to wilt. How long has it been? 5 hours? 6? Who the fuck knows anymore? He was here two days ago, laughing and hugging Jimin like always. Heated arms around giggling chests. Sweltering smiles over frowned foreheads. What happened after? Why is he standing in a graveyard? Why are the flowers fading and why is he feeling so empty? It feels like he’s exposed. He thinks he doesn’t even remember how it felt like… before. Was there a before? But he feels him, all around him and inside him, clutching everything he was and is… has become. He’s there with him. Under that fucking stone.
Void. A gap has opened inside him and sucks him in. He’s on self-destructing mode. The loss is palpable now. Well… not so much. The stone is though. Why have a barren embodiment, a constant reminder of death? For what good? It’s forever. He knows how death works, he doesn’t need to be reminded of it. And yet, he comes every day to stare at it. To maybe make it change somehow, give it life, a part of his life. A year, a month… only a day and it’s enough.
Is it?
(Tae…) Scream but not even an echo. What kind of deserted place is this? At least in the desert he would have himself but where is he now? Who brought the flowers? Why is he outside? Why is the stone starring back?
*
Kim Taehyung
It’s beautiful out here. The midnight blackness swallows him and he doesn’t mind. He’s above all. He is all, in these last few moments. It got better once he was on the edge. Jimin would like the view.
Jimin.
He’ll be fine. Isn’t this what we always tell ourselves? When we don’t realize how much we mean to others. When we have our moment of selfishness and think of a way out, not a way to solve the issue. It’s easier. And it gets easier after you know nothing. After nothing is all that everyone comes to know about you. When you deceive their expectations and crush that image so well outlined in their minds. But you think it won’t get better for yourself so you act on impulse. You do the first thing that comes into your mind to make yourself…’useful’. And oh, how wrong you are. But even if you know the theory, even after going through it before -but not actually like this- you still think it’s the worst that could happen and the best you can do.
The green glass is now stained by red. The happy faces are now melting to dread.
How beautiful it was, how relieving it felt piercing through that coat of flesh.
Again and again and again and again. And once more.
Until red was all he saw.
Howls emerging deeper from the sea of the soul, crying out angst, despair and all.
It doesn’t matter how far he moves the echoes still resonating between the walls of his mind, reaching to every corner, filling every crack, infecting his being. Until he breaks. But he was already broken. Cracks have started tearing him in two a long time ago, when the first bottle of toxic liquid has been downed, when the first hand has been laid on virgin skin, when the first yelp has breached tender lips.
Then again.
When the sun went down and the night would hide the ugliness of the truth. No one was around to cry for help. Only Jimin. Who wrapped Taehyung in tenderness and assured him safety. He would be that anchor that drove him forward, made him capable of moving pass the despair covering his eyes and not letting him see straight.
Until he went back. And again. Blow. Wail. Cry.
No matter how many times he would rebuild himself in strong wings, they would seem like a vague dream under the heavy swing of a clouded mind and animal impulses.
But now everything is calm, peace and quiet. Only the buzzing of the wind and the movement of his clothing. One step is all it takes. The tall block of concrete is holding him, lifting him to his high. It’s maddening. He laughs, grins. Wipes his mouth, the drool itches in the chilly air. The caresses were habitual, welcomed but not enough as the malicious got hungrier. The repetitive ritual is what killed him the most. The certainty that at the end of the day he will still wine and dine in the devil’s pit. Red was all he saw every day, every rain, every sunset.
And red is was he sees as it canvases nails growing out of skin. Knuckles that were squeezed after every blow he received, for him and his protector. His true protector. But sometimes protectors die doing their duty. This night he was witness to two funerals. He buried his hopes and dreams along with the empty glare that came from that rounded face. Then he didn’t care, he was dead anyway. He killed. That’s what death does isn’t it? It only promises death.
Now all that’s promised to him is dark and fluorescent; promises of which he can’t see the end. But he will, for a slight second once he’s there. He’s curious, how it’ll be. So he wants to find out.
The push is slight, the weight drags him down, the concrete kisses him goodbye. The breeze runs around him and shifts him, contorts him until he sees nothing. Two hits: glass shattering under him and then pavement-like, the water’s surface opens for him, lets him become one with it. The gates close above him and the weight that pushes him down is enough to make him numb. Stop him from struggling. He can’t breathe anymore; he opens his eyes but black buzzing covers them. It’s tingly. It’s calming.
It’s death.
*
Min Yoongi
Smoke. Such a strange thing for humans to enjoy. Not so pleasant, but not so nasty either. Something in between. It gives them something to crave for other than animalistic greed. Something small like this, that eventually leads them to permanent death. They are all moving towards it, but some choose to do it faster, with the compromise of feeling better, indulging themselves throughout the process.
Attachment. Is how they describe the feeling of possession. Of ruling over something. Even something small as a lighter, up to nations, kingdoms. Is how humans work. They are driven by desire, by a passion as some may call it… but it’s simply narcissistic behavior; what makes them feel better in relation to others.
They use others like cigarettes. They enjoy the bitter feeling they get out from the smoke, while it flusters their bodies, until they’re spent and good for scraps. Then thrown away.
No wonder after finishing the whole package they realize their addiction, and cling onto it; it being the only thing that keeps them moving. Even after being spent, they keep coming back, reliving the moments they had it, longing for that feeling, needing it in their system for one more time.
That’s all they say: Just one more… single time. But it’s never a single time is it? The addiction is there and as long as you feed it, you encourage it, you maintain that desire. How stupid.
Just like this fool, coming here every morning, just before the sun opens its eyes, until the cold comes and makes him shudder. It’s been like this for a week now. What keeps him driven? What does he think? That he will be met with the figure of an angel welcoming him and speaking him the honey tongue? It doesn’t work like that kid. There is no honey on the other side, there’s only screams and debauchery.
‘Mmm.’ It humms, the memories of every screaming soul lying on his table, begging for anything other than what he gets, pleading, making promises to serve. Serve what? He doesn’t want an army. What he will do with that? Conquer the world? And then what? He will have no joy in unifying the two domains, where will he get his fun?
Where would he meet people like this fool?
It doesn’t take him long to reach him. He steps like he doesn’t care if he’ll startle him. He doesn’t seem to be on this world anymore. Maybe he’s transposed himself into the grave too. Is that possible? No, it isn’t, the world doesn’t give you privileges like that.
One step closer and Yoongi can feel the anticipation rising in him. Can feel it bubbling up from the pits of his stomach to the skin of his face. It makes him glitch; he loses a hold of himself. He stops. The world shifts for a slight second, the face of his true self is reviled to this world and it burns. It makes him grimace. He can’t stand it. He doesn’t know how he did it before. He changes back. Right before the ruin of a man turns his head and looks at him. His eyes are empty; like he’s looking right through Yoongi. Does he see him?
Birds around scamper into the sky. They feel the vile creature spreading dirty shadows onto fertile land, making it sterile. Wings.
He has them. He wants to make himself noticed but only by this creature, looking at him like a lost child, waiting for the stranger to take him to his mother, but only promising him he will, taking him back to his house and having its way. He’s glorious and he has to know this.
His back crackles, bones break, joints scream, feathers rustle. It’s marvelous. He’s marvelous, and the life in the fool’s eyes comes back, it breaches through those dark orbs and makes Yoongi’s smile spread wide on his face. But the fool is still, eyes him with vivid horror and something else that Yoongi wants to think is admiration, even if it may not be. He has to be admired, every human in the right mind would find him attractive; his dominance overcoming the human status. It’s necessary to overcome, that’s how you let people know of your and their place in the hierarchy.
‘What are you thinking?’ it’s low, it takes Jimin by surprise but it manages to brake him out of the trance.
‘What are you?’ The words just leave his mouth without asking for permission. He’s surprised of how flat his voice sounds. Maybe because he’s too overwhelmed by awe… or is it terror?
‘What do you think?’
The human-like creature stands before him, with wings having the proportion of his despair. Its eyes are dark and they absorb Jimin like a black hole. He can’t look away. Why can’t he look away? Maybe because he’s afraid of what it will do to him if he lets his guard down.
What guard? You are a defenseless human being. You are on the ground while this…demon prays on you.
‘An angel?’ It’s really uncertain and he can’t believe his daring voice. Is he actually messing up with this demon?
Yoongi puffs his nose and spreads his smile wider, if that’s possible.
‘And that’s how I know how deceptive human eyes can be. How easily you believe the appearances and ignore your instincts. Why are you trying to be so civilized?’
It’s responding the same way, it incites Jimin, pushing him the same way he pushed Yoongi and exactly the same way Yoongi knows humans like to be pushed. ‘Prelude’ is how they call it.
Yoongi pulls his wings back, more shuffling from behind his torso, his smile crooks for a second and his eyes shut, but he opens them quickly enough to see Jimin averting his eyes back to Yoongi’s dark orbs. He puts the smile back on his face, luring Jimin back to him.
Jimin is so further away that he believes this is a dream. This can’t be true. No… He’s probably fell asleep on the ground next to Taehyung’s gravestone and dreams hopeful dreams. But what is this creature doing here? What does it want?
‘Say it again.’ Honey inflections in Yoongi’s voice touch the right strings inside Jimin. He’s captivated by this creature. He’s captivated by the way it moves, and looks at him. He likes it. And he complies because its voice is clear and greasy and smears on the right cracks onto Jimin’s insides.
It’s inviting.
‘Demon.’
At this point he might as well play the game. He isn’t blind. He isn’t stupid either. He knows what it does to him and he’s conscious of the effortless way in which he gives in, but if it’s a dream where’s the harm in it? He has heard the stories, read the legends, believed them all, swore to never fall for it and laughed at those who did, but who was he before this colossal creature to oppose? He feels his invisible tentacles reaching out to him, caressing and luring him in. And he’s so weak now, never been so weak before that he doesn’t have enough energy to fight it. To stand with his principles in his hands and stop it.
It’s too late for rational decisions anyway.
Yoongi’s brow rises. The fool speaks too easy. What’s up with this one? Just let it out already, let it consume you fool!
‘So…?’ he asks challenging.
‘So what?’ Jimin’s just confused. Or is he? He likes to play games, he always had, but this one is too dangerous. It excites him. It brings him to that edge he wants to jump off. To feel the same way Taehyung felt.
‘What do you want?’
‘Me? What do YOU want?’ Clearly he’s stepped over the boundary. He’s far gone beyond it. He won’t be surprised if he’ll be dead in the next minute. Isn’t this how it works? You dare an animal and it bites you back?
But he is part human, so humans are not that simple, they like to complicate things, to make them more challenging. It’s funny, how we take pleasure in others’ suffering.
‘But it’s not about me is it? I’ve gone far beyond that.’
He smirks. How the hell can he be so sheepish?
(Isn’t he a fucking demon?)
Oh yeah, he is.
(But tell me again, how is this possible?)
‘Who is that?’ Yoongi nods towards the gravestone behind Jimin. He’s still on the grass, close to it. Jimin doesn’t look back though, just analyzes Yoongi’s expressions. Isn’t he supposed to know? Or is he just making conversation?
‘A friend.’ No Jimin, he’s not just a friend. He’s Taehyung. His heart swells again. It booms in his chest like he realized he died again.
‘Mmm. How long?’
‘Few days.’
It’s not too late. Yoongi is already envisioning the rise followed by the fall and he can’t contain the smile that bubbles at the corner of his mouth. He sees the dread creeping back into Jimin’s eyes and he could imagine how he looks to him.
‘I think you already figured the ‘why’s and ‘how’s so…’
Is he offering something? The expression on Jimin’s face shifts 50 shades of confusion and other 50 of anxiety combined with something else that Yoongi thinks is desire. How fun it is… the complex human mind.
Jimin follows Yoongi’s curves and tries to read between the lines of his voice, of his face but there’s nothing underneath. There is no mask to hide anything, because Jimin knows there’s nothing to hide. Yoongi made it clear from the start, he stated how things were for him. Or was he imagining it?
It’s fine until the demon starts using his human abilities to tempt Jimin even more. And it works; it god damn works. He’s so weak too.
The bite is subtle. His lower lip gets caught between his teeth and scrapes at his skin, making it stretch and redden. Jimin swears he can hear the grazing sound of the teeth scraping at the skin. The orbs are getting darker and darker. The sun hides for a moment, leaving them alone, in that deserted cemetery and Jimin wishes for Taehyung to rise from his grave and stop him.
‘Can I think about it?’
Jimin doesn’t blink. The lip isn’t released until it perches up into a smile. A step is made forward, skinny legs covered in strange skin. A hand is placed before his eyes and he looks at it with fear. It’s slender and opaque, hiding the burning but not so well, Jimin feels the heat emanating from it once he touches it. It sends tingles through his fingers to his brain. He doesn’t realize when he stands up, only follows those darkening globes peering into him.
Once Yoongi has a hold of Jimin he pulls him closer bringing his arm next to his body. He holds Jimin’s elbow with his other arm and closes the distance between his lips and Jimin’s ear. He’s two breaths away from his skin. Both vibrate and the waves reverberate out of each other. It’s intriguing.
‘We both know that you already thought about it.’
Jimin’s skin prickles with something odd, and his stomach stirs. A heavy puff is let out of his lungs and he stops breathing. He feels the danger now. He’s more vulnerable than ever and he’s two seconds away from fainting.
‘Just don’t make me waste my time. And your boyfriend’s too. He hasn’t got long Jimin-shi.’
And with these words everything stops and Jimin almost lets out a fainted sob while he breathes in fresh air. So many things happening at once. Words revolve around his head and make his brain numb. He hears Taehyung say his name but with the lips of a demon and sees the sand in a glass pouring the last strings onto the lower level.
Yoongi’s dark puddle overflows and bites at the while under his lids. He can’t contain to let himself slip a little, he’s too thrilled to let the moment pass. How could he when he feeds on streams of loathing and angst? He feels Jimin wine under his gloomy shadow, even if the sun doesn’t throw light over them, the shadows are physical, and Jimin gest absorbed by them, dragged even deeper in his damnation. But Yoongi knows he’s a lost cause. From the moment he saw his eyes.
Yoongi lets a breath of air fondle at Jimin’s hair above his ear, and the hairs on his face prickle. Rise up electrified and ready to shock at the touch, but the touch never comes; on the contrary the hellish warmth floats away and leaves Jimin empty. Alone again in that deserted cemetery. A rustle of feathers resonates in the still air like the leaves of an oak tree.
There is no sweet scent though, only a bubbly essence that tickles at his skin. It makes him shiver and he immediately thinks he’s lost the best opportunity he had. But not long enough because something moves in the palm of his hand. He opens it and sees a long snowy feather, moving its curves in the blow of the soft breeze that has settled around him. It looks neat, even perfect; it gives that pure vibe of a celestial body but the smell gives it away, it’s dull and cold, it freezes in Jimin’s nostrils, makes him cringe but he doesn’t let the feather fall fearing it may break. It looks like it’s made out of the ashes of the ancestors, bones and flesh converted into a delicate weapon; which gives Jimin now the ability to make that call and seal the deal. He is baffled and doesn’t know where to look other than to the demon’s card.
What did he had to think about? It’s not like he has any other choice. And the demon said it’s not too late either but what did he mean by that?