Pathways

Transcedental

A continuous night surrounded Taehyung no matter the position of the Sun. He was supposed to search for Light continuously. Until his body was exhausted, he needed to search and use his hands to move gravel, mire and clouds away, rearrange big blocks to uncover a speck of Continuity, and gulp it down. Live another week!

With the everlasting night stubbornly slumbering in his pores, he turned to look at Jungkook. He knew where light stood but he couldn't convince himself to wake up the maknae and make him look at him. His fingers went up to trace the other man's jawline and nose but he stopped himself as a cold burst flashed inside of him.

Jungkook's arm was still under his neck and it suddenly started burning uncomfortably, forcing Taehyung to get up from the bed due to a wave of horrendous heat that picked at his skin.

Shrouded in darkness, he went to the bathroom and opened the ice-cold faucet. The sound was irking his ears - nails on a blackboard - and he picked up his toothbrush hastily to get the process of brushing his teeth over with. He dipped it in water and hit the faucet so that it stopped running. He brushed while looking at himself in the mirror. He made eye contact with the man looking back at him lazily through black curls. His eyes were a bridge to the other side. The end opened in lands of the dead, some limitless void of the astral plane, meaningless and redundant.

He bent over once he opened the faucet again without much conviction and slurped some of the water to clear his mouth. A cold rivulet escaped between his lips, in a corner and he gripped the sink tightly, disgusted with the sensation on his skin. He snapped his head around for a towel, loathing the idea of touching the rivulet with his fingers or even the back of his hand. He wiped his mouth until the area reddened slightly and the irritation produced a faint pain and the same burn he knew well.

"You're ridiculous," he said to the man in the mirror and went out to dress, not even considering a minor possibility of washing up further. "And you're spiraling down. You know this feeling," the voice added.

He picked his jeans up with two fingers, conscious of every alarm his body rang, and slid his legs within the fabric, struggling as much as possible not to place a full hand on the denim. However, he did snatch his phone from the side nightstand and, without looking another second more at Jungkook, he exited the room, shutting the door behind him and using his sleeve to push the hair out of his eyes.

The clock in the hallway showed him that he had another half hour before Yoongi came for him so he walked to the kitchen to get himself a tea but the act of brewing implied too much effort so he opened the refrigerator in search of milk. An artificial light sneered at him and Taehyung would have sneered back if he didn't notice a half-empty bottle of whiskey inside.

He grabbed it by the neck and forcefully pulled it out, hitting other casseroles that stood in his way. The glass moaned and sweated in between his fingers so he uncorked it as fast as he could and poured himself a drink.

"It's too early to drink," a maternal voice scolded him from afar.

"It's always night where I am," he replied and chugged the alcohol in one mouthful, taking advantage of the momentum to pour himself another, more generous this time.

The burn baptized his insides and he shut his eyes tightly, letting the scorch move through, cauterizing some wounds and opening others, feeding the voices. "You're despicable," Taehyung's own voice mocked him. "And that's how I wish to be," he answered.

In a blink of an eye he moved to the window, opened it widely and let in night to keep him company as he lit a cigarette and sat on one of the high stools near the counter. The tips of his fingers were the only ones that touched the glass or any other object as his body curled inward and his elbows received permission to rest on the counter as he smoked.