DYING TO KNOW | TAEKOOK

1. Burn Your Life Down

*Brief content warning for strong language, references to sex / sexuality, brief references to violence*

♾♾♾

"Don't you even dare! I never want to see you again, Jungkook!" He heard the shouts echo as he stormed out of the house, heartbeat thrumming in his ears as glass shattered against the wall next to him,"I tried so hard for this, for us, and you can't even look at me!"

He stopped short, whipping himself back towards the voice, "What? Like I didn't?" he sneered, "All I fucking do is what you ask," he hissed.

Jungkook was met with a scoff, "I seem to be the only thing you can't do," he heard.

He listened to the door slam behind him but he was already in the driveway. He got into his Mercedes, and peeled out as quickly as possible.

He attempted to regulate his breathing as he drove, unsure of exactly where to go. He pulled over after driving a few miles and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

After a moment or two, he sat up, squared his shoulders and put the car in drive. Fuck. This.

Ignoring the current of anxiety thrumming through his body, he let the miles slip by as he watched the sun fade over the highway.

Jungkook barely blinked, it seemed, as he thought about his next move.

He felt like the floor had collapsed under him and he couldn't find the horizon. As someone so used to being ten steps ahead, he felt perilously behind right now.

It was all in danger of crashing down around him now.

Carefully navigating the maze of cross streets and traffic, he eventually parked and hopped out, the car honking behind him as he locked it.

The evening sky had turned to night and as he checked his phone, he noticed the time before knocking on the door in front of him. Whoops.

♾♾♾

"Jungkook? What are you doing here? It's almost midnight," Jimin's eyes widened as he pulled the door open.

He yanked Jungkook inside the brownstone and looked him up and down, running his hands through his messy pink hair. "Did you drive here? Are you okay? Hello?" He snapped his fingers in front of his friend's eyes.

Jungkook pulled his eyes up to meet Jimin's gaze. He could feel the questions just waiting beneath the surface, simmering on Jimin's tongue, ready to be unleashed.

He sighed, "It's over, Jimin," he offered before walking past his friend and up the stairs to the guest room.

Only Jimin's eyes accompanied him, but he didn't make any move to follow, which Jungkook was grateful for as he closed the door behind him and flopped onto the bed.

He couldn't sleep that night, leaving the light on as he paced. Unaware that Jimin was pacing the hallway on the other side of the door.

Every minute that the light stayed on, Jimin's concern grew. He moved to knock on the door many times, maybe too many times, but each time he remembered. He let his hand fall and backed away.

Around three in the morning on the other side of the door, Jungkook had finally knitted a plan together. Maybe.

He opened his phone, found no new texts or calls, and ignoring his burgeoning inbox, wrote two emails.

One to his assistant, one to his attorney.

He put the phone on the bedside table, flicked off the light, and without allowing himself to feel the roar of failure burning in his veins, he closed his eyes and commanded himself to fall asleep.

♾♾♾

The next morning, Jimin woke up with a start, quickly remembering Jungkook in his guest room. He pulled on a pair of grey cashmere joggers and a black Helmut Lang hoodie, and padded over to check on Jungkook.

He peeked into the room and found it empty. Oh what the fuck, he thought as he hurried down the stairs, blinking quickly to shake off his morning grogginess. He stopped when he reached the landing.

"What is this, man?" He demanded in a more accusatory tone than he intended. He'd pay for that later.

Jungkook turned his head to look at him placidly, and Jimin shrunk, gesturing meekly at the luggage sitting at the front door.

He felt his friend's glassy demeanor seep into him like spilled juice on a sponge: the bags under his eyes, the thin frown.

Jungkook had changed into black jeans, sneakers, and a leather jacket, and was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee. It was like he belonged there, Jimin thought with a pang.

"Dude, I'm serious, what the fuck is this?" He insisted, recognizing Jungkook's outfit. "Where are you going?"

Jungkook sighed and stood, his expression impassive. He said nothing, because he really had nothing to say, and put his coffee cup into the sink.

He walked over to Jimin and shrugged his shoulders, turning his palms toward the ceiling. He felt his throat start to clench and his chin trembled a bit.

"I can't do it anymore, Jimin," he choked out. He grabbed the black Tumi roller and backpack sitting at the front door and walked out, stopping to glance back. "Love you," he said, waving lamely.

"Always have, always will," he called over his shoulder.

Jimin raised his hand silently, face contorted in confusion. He watched blankly from the door as Jungkook put a suitcase that had materialized out of nowhere into his black Mercedes, hopped in, and drove away.

He didn't miss how Jungkook fumbled to look at his phone, or his shaking hands as he gripped the steering wheel just a little too tight.

What the fuck happened last night? Jimin looked around his now-empty apartment, pulling out his phone.

JIMIN: wtf happened last night?

LILI: Same shit, different day

JIMIN: clearly not the same if
he ended up HERE

LILI: Oh fuck, he's in NY?

JIMIN: he showed up around midnight

LILI: Yikes. What did he say?

JIMIN: not a whole lot.

LILI: It didn't work again.

LILI: I think we're done this time

LILI: He can't even pretend
to want me anymore

JIMIN: shit, i'm sorry

JIMIN: maybe that's a
good thing?

LILI: Shouldn't you know?

JIMIN: that wasn't necessary

LILI: No comment

JIMIN: ok, well call me if
you need me

LILI: You got it big bro

JIMIN:👍👍

🎬