He felt a sharp pain all over his right side and especially in his temple.
He collapsed and the smell of alcohol invaded his nostrils so violently that he knew he was going to be sick. He couldn't understand what was happening and what type of ancient shadows surrounded him. Oddly shaped, eerie cherubim sang the personal praise of his demise quietly, only for him to hear. Their voices were sometimes violins, sometimes cellos, sometimes contrabasses. Only strings present at his dirge so he could hang himself off musical instruments and let insanity play.
There was another shot of pain when two hands grabbed his torso awkwardly, trying to pull him into somebody's lap. He immediately opened his eyes to inspect the cause of the ache and it was Jungkook's terrifying image looking back at him. "NO!" Tae shouted and his hand formed a fist that swooshed through the air, hitting the middle of Jungkook's chest, splashing whiskey and dirt on his shirt. The pain moved to his knuckles so Tae grinned, a new high peaking. He tried hitting him again but Jungkook deflected the blow, almost understanding exactly where the fist was going to land.
He tried punching him again, full force, yet Jungkook looked unaffected, an annoying rock, lips pressed together, stern, and for the first time, Taehyung feared to meet his gaze because the softness had sharpened.
The maknae caught his wrists, coloring them with bruises as Tae wiggled left and right, trying to hit him but, most importantly, break free. Jungkook's hands were warm on his wrists, bandaging imaginary gushing wounds. "Stop, Tae... Stop. Tae, this is your mania. Stop. This is not you..." he heard.
"THIS IS ME! My mania is ME!" he shouted, his chest puffing. "Why doesn't anybody understand? I am this..." True disappointment was cried out over rooftops. There was a misunderstood teenager waltzing inside of him. "Don't you love me?" He mocked loudly, spitting his anger since he couldn't physically manifest it. "How can you claim you love this? You fucking hypocrite! Let me go. Let me go. You just want to claim me, use me! Let me go," he shouted again, another series of convulsions washing over them.
Unsurprisingly, Jungkook won the strength battle each time, pushing his wrists downwards until Tae was laying on the floor, hair bathing in whiskey, shards dangerously close.
"Stop, Taehyung... Stop. I do. Whether you can believe it or not. I love you."
"Shut up! Liar... You can't possibly..." Tae whined, acknowledging the way his voice faltered.
"I do. Maybe I'm deranged but I love you right now too. I love everything you allow me to see of you... I love this darkness inside of you. I want to be a part of it. It makes your happiness and laughter even more important. I love it when you lose control. I love who you are but stop hurting both of us and come back to me. Don't fight along with this rage, fight against it. Fight against it, Tae. Use me to fight against it. Hit me as if you're hitting whatever it is you're trying to kill... do it..." Jungkook said and he released Tae's wrists before driving his hands under his torso again, pulling him into a forced embrace, shivering because of the cold, because the thin shirt was not a match for Milano's teeth.
"Hit me. I love you," he whispered in Tae's ear when the man started to wiggle again.
He screamed until he started crying into Jungkook's chest, muffling his voice in between muscles. He didn't hit him. He couldn't. Not when Jungkook was rocking him back and forth, whispering "I love you" constantly, stubbornly, ignoring Tae's previous request for him not to say it. But, in a way, Jungkook didn't speak the words, he sang them, overpowering all other voices in his head until the spiral finally reached the peak of Lunacy and Tae let out a bombastic scream, pressing himself hard into Jungkook and falling instantaneously. His tortured, contorted body softened in the maknae's grasp and he cried away for minutes, clinging to pathways of words, driving his hands on the cold body, trying to heat him up but failing miserably.
YOU ARE READING
Pathways
Fanfiction"Taehyung is the definition of flawed art and Jungkook is rebellion." Jeon Jungkook is in his last year, studying to be a filmmaker. He's career focused, smart, responsible but restless. In a country as religious as Korea, he had no contact with hom...
