DYING TO KNOW | TAEKOOK

17. I Was Married

Taehyung knew something was wrong. More wrong than just his usual garden variety ennui surrounding his impending divorce.

Jungkook wasn't home, wasn't answering any of his calls or texts, and when he checked with Yoongi about it, Jungkook hadn't been in touch with anyone else either.

Not that it had been that long but, in the short time they'd known each other, Jungkook was pretty much always at home.

So, he did what was only natural and walked Yeontan by Jungkook's house approximately ten times a day.

Yeontan was exhausted, but he was worried and apparently, as he learned about himself, the worried version of himself was a huge stalker. Great...

He was wearing out the soles of his Gucci loafers and had blisters due to walking in the heat, but he didn't really care. If anything, it was going to be good for his physical fitness.

TAEHYUNG: Yoongs

TAEHYUNG: He's still not home

TAEHYUNG: Have you heard from him? Wtf

YOONGI: No, and before you ask, neither has Hobi

TAEHYUNG: His car hasn't been in the garage in days...

YOONGI: How do you know that?

Taehyung didn't answer that last question, nor did he like any of Yoongi's responses, but figured that it wouldn't hurt to walk by one more time.

He put on different shoes this time, and didn't even bother changing out of his shorts because at this point, he had lost hope. He even left Yeontan at home grouchily, before stalking down the street to Jungkook's address.

He felt everything about his demeanor change when he saw the gate was open.

♾♾♾

Jungkook was on something like a bender, but a dry one. He was just numb.

He was in no shape to drive when his plane had landed so he holed up at the Chateau for a day or two, abandoning his car at the airport, racking up parking fees, he was sure.

Once again, his phone was full of texts. Each stream of messages made him seethe. The ones from Taehyung made his seethe with something else.

He felt like death, but frozen over.  

Sad, cruel, heart-ripped-out-by-Satan evil.  Unable to look at anyone. Unable to dignify any of Jimin's various attempts to reach him with a response. Et tu, Brute?

He was existing in the place between asleep and awake, alive and dead, sad and happy.  

Drugged by pain, concussed, he questioned everything that had happened. Everyone involved. Their intentions. It hurt.

He poured himself out of the limo that the concierge had booked and skulked into the house.

♾♾♾

He wasn't home for more than an hour before the doorbell rang. Who could that possibly be? Wasn't it Sunday?

Jungkook was irritated, at best. He barely had time to shower, brush his hair, and get properly dressed before someone irritated the ever-living shit out of him.

He dragged himself off the couch like peeling gum off the bottom of a shoe. Unwillingly. It was him. Why?

Taehyung looked up as the door swung open, a bright smile spreading across his face but vanishing immediately.