sᴀᴠᴀsᴀɴᴀ│ᴛᴋ [complete]

.20. ᴠᴇʀʏ ʙᴀᴅᴀsᴀɴᴀ

Trigger warning: harassment

—

During the two years he worked as a yoga teacher, Jungkook had never called in sick. It was a first for him, to avoid having to show up for class because he fell ill. What ailment he suffered from was, however, yet to be determined. He displayed no symptoms whatsoever other than the irresistible need to hide under his blanket in an attempt to remove himself from the world.

Perhaps yesterday's brutal lay off from the record company was a little to blame for his present lethargy.

Perhaps the fact that an awful lot of people had watched the most intimate moment he had ever shared with Taehyung contributed to him feeling somewhat violated, and betrayed.

Perhaps the words Taehyung had uttered ("it was just a dance practice,") also held some liability. Of course he knew the man had only meant to help save his ass. Yet that adverb — just — kept pricking his heart, likely leaving bruises that would take a while to heal.

He had cherished every single second of that dance practice. The idea that Taehyung may not have been as emotionally invested as he had been had not occurred to him until now. He felt silly, indulging in this one-sided crush when Taehyung had been rather frugal in terms of reciprocity. Was Jungkook even allowed to wait for any sign that whatever was going on between them would eventually turn into something more substantial?

He was aware of the man's coercive contract even though they had never discussed its terms in detail. It was common knowledge idols' status as role models for young fans required them to boast spotless records and to lead exemplary lives.

"How do you suggest we spin this?" Bang had asked him after a long rant about public image and how it influenced popularity and how crucial it was for a debut act not to have their brand tarnished by some scandal of dubious nature for it could mean the end of their career before it even took off and blablabla and blablabla.

Jungkook had long stopped listening. Besides, the PR dudes were already working on a statement to be released to the press shortly. The identity of the mysterious dancer would not be made public. That much Jungkook had understood and agreed to. Yet overall, it was obvious his opinion did not matter for if it had, the SNS team would have had the decency to ask for his permission before publishing the incriminating content. Though come to think of it, the crime had never been clearly defined.

Mr Jang may have said something about the initial shocked reactions of the fan communities online, but was it because of the provocative moves, or because he was a man?

Not that it mattered any more.

Jungkook had been let go because they had deemed his actions 'unprofessional'. Whatever that meant. The company had made the decision to protect its investment, namely Kim Taehyung, the charming crooner with a smile so dazzling it made every single housewife in the country want to turn him into their son-in-law.

And Jungkook was okay with that. It was Taehyung's dream after all. He'd always support him, even if it meant keeping his distance and cheering for him from afar. The last thing he wished, however, was for Taehyung to express any sort of pity toward him. That was simply out of the question, which was why he had shut off his phone.

It would be nice, for the world to forget about his existence.

Alas, Jungkook's bed plainly refused to swallow him whole, no matter how hard he tried to sink in the pillowy linens.

The following morning, Jungkook made three mistakes. Staring at the silent device sitting on his bedside table, he decided to ignore it for now (mistake number 1). Had he checked his messages, or social media, he would not have shown up at Om Yoga, two hours later (mistake number 2), believing life would go back to normal (mistake number 3), provided he pretended the past few weeks had never happened.

The crowd blocking the doors of the studio was most unusual, especially for a weekday. The fact that the women who had gathered seemed to take a strong interest in his presence was alarming, all the more since none of their faces were particularly friendly. This impression was confirmed when someone shouted, "it's him!" and the mob swooped down on its prey, surrounding Jungkook and leaving him no way out.

"Stay away from Taehyung!" is one of the first things Jungkook heard, followed by a string of slurs he'd never, in his lifetime, imagined could be used to define him. Yet there he was, facing a herd of angry fans who couldn't care less about his version of the story. How had they managed to track him down to his workplace? And in so little time?

Someone shoved him in the shoulder. The verbal violence was turning physical and all Jungkook could think of was how to get out of here. Another push. Harder this time. He didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his balance before he stumbled to the ground to be stampeded on. Thankfully, the taunting stopped with the sudden blaring of sirens. The presence of a nearby police car helped disperse the flock, leaving behind a trembling Jungkook, shaken to the core in more ways than one.

After making sure he was alright, the police officers followed him inside the studio where they were met with a rather discomposed Peggy. "Thank heavens you're in one piece!" she managed to utter as a greeting.

In between sobs, she confirmed having called the cops when she first noticed the commotion outside. "This was not the kind of publicity I was hoping for."

Jungkook had been about to thank her but held off. "What publicity?"

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