TRAPPED || Taegguk

[ 58 ] Down the rabbit hole

In this moment, she thought she'd never hated anyone more than she did Han. She hated him so much, that the thought of jabbing a knife in his chest didn't seem as appalling as it should be anymore.

But she didn't say anything. She stayed silent, until Jeongguk excused himself to go to the restroom. Then, she smiled at him and helped him up, waiting for him to disappear from her view before she fetched her phone from her pocket to text the only person she knew could help her.

—

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—

It was only a matter of days before Jeongguk's scent had completely vanished from the apartment. Now it felt emptier than ever; bigger, somehow.

As Taehyung walked down the halls of his house — or mansion, as Jeongguk liked to call it — he finally understood every little thing the blond hated about it.

Why were there so many rooms, if  the only one living here was himself? Yes, he occasionally had people over, but certainly Jimin didn't need three rooms to feel comfortable.

Why were the hallways so large? Why did they seem so empty?

Why was the main bathroom so fancy?

Why was everything so clean, so neat, so empty?

Anyone could live here. No one would know it was Taehyung's to begin with, if it wasn't for the cursive letters carefully written in black ink on his mail box.

Now, without Jeongguk by his side, Taehyung felt lonelier than ever. And roaming the halls of his depressing house only made the hole in his chest grow; it was struggling to hold itself together, for the band-aid Jeongguk had been for these past few days had suddenly been ripped off, leaving his exposed vessels to bleed out.

He felt like screaming. Anxiety hit him in waves, squeezing at his abdomen, clogging his throat, tightly gripping his heart 'till he could hear his heartbeat no more. Everything was awfully silent. Suddenly void surrounded him, and he was falling right in it. The pressure in his ears made it impossible to hear anything; he felt as though he was underwater — his whole body was shouting at him to just wake the fuck up and get a grip, but his mind was filled with a fierce whirlpool of thoughts that spun around and around without letting him focus on any of them.

In the blur, he could distinguish his inner voice; it was speaking briskly, so much so that he could barely comprehend any of the words it was saying. Desperate to come back to reality he gripped tightly at his arm and pulled at the skin as hard as he could.

It didn't help, the voices and thoughts were still racing.

How did this happen?

And just as he thought he wouldn't be able to get out of it, he heard a loud knocking sound coming from downstairs. Immediately his thoughts converged to create a single, articulated question: was it Jeongguk?

His ears rung for a long minute during which he did his best to breathe in as deep as he could and exhale as calmly as he could, until he could hear his heart beat again — it was unusually fast, but it was here. He wasn't dying. Soon, he could feel the ground under him again, could see the bland decor of his hallway and hear the obnoxious noise of the clock hung up on the wall.