DYING TO KNOW | TAEKOOK

39. Now I'm All Messed Up

*content warning for adult language, substance misuse, and mature themes*

Taehyung felt like someone had punched him in the gut, spit on his face and poured steaming hot lava on everything he loved and cared about.

But he wasn't angry. He felt worthless. All of the things he had built up in his mind that he thought they could be; it seemed like it was all crumbling down over a silly stack of paper.

It had all drifted off into the ether, because it was imagined. Everything was a figment of his imagination.

One stupid omission that could have been put on the table right at the beginning, and it wouldn't have been an issue for anyone.

Taehyung wondered why it was so quiet outside when he realized it was the middle of the night, and he was drunk. The wine was gone. He threw the empty bottle into the trash can at the beach entrance.  

It made a hollow crash when it hit the metal. He laughed harshly to himself, thinking that he felt the same. Hollow. Cracked.

He stumbled home in the dark, into the front door and to the kitchen. There wasn't any food there, why would there be? He hadn't been there in months, so the kitchen was bleak and empty.

The wine sloshing in his stomach told him that he'd had enough as he opened another bottle and walked into the bedroom.

Whose bedroom was this, anyway? He had claimed it in the divorce, Jin had no interest, but it still didn't quite feel like his.

He drank in the dark silence as he drifted into a sad, sloppy, stupor. Slowly moving between mad and sad, asleep and awake, hopeless and in love.

The next day was a blur. He woke around noon, hazy and maybe still a little drunk, but he drank more anyhow to numb the sadness.

Taehyung decided that vulnerability such as this was not his strong suit. He wasn't wearing it well, but the blanket of alcohol made it feel less acute.

He slept it off into the next night and that morning. When he woke up, he looked in the mirror to some horror.

His normally coiffed hair was lank and he looked strangely gaunt even after only three or so days of not consuming anything but booze and coffee. It was not a good look.

His lips were a vampiric purple from the red wine he'd been imbibing and his eyes were bloodshot and red, as though he were sick with the flu.

Well, he was sick but not that kind.

Taehyung turned on the shower, peeling off his sandy bathing suit and stood for what felt like hours. He attempted to wash off all the grief to no avail.

He brushed his teeth twice and washed his dull, dank hair until he felt newer, cleaner.

Finally, he got out of the shower and took another look in the mirror. Better. His eyes were still red, and he looked leaner and sicker, but newer.

As he sifted through his dresser, he was dismayed. It was full of happy, summery clothes. He found some drab olive green shorts and a shirt, and called it good enough.

Taehyung felt so dizzy and nauseated by all this that he went back into the bathroom to throw up. Blood red wine was all thar came up.

He brushed his teeth for a third time and went on his way.

♾♾♾

JUNGKOOK: Where is he?

YOONGI: Who?