Candle Queen | OT7

03| Echoes of Melancholy

"So, do you want to—"

"I'm going for a walk," Taehyung abruptly interrupts, his voice cutting through Jungkook's words like a sharp blade, leaving a sting of rejection in its wake. Without further ado, Taehyung pushes himself off the wall and strides toward the door, a sense of urgency in his steps.

"Oh, um, I can come with you if you want," Jungkook offers, the yearning in his voice embarrassingly palpable, desperately hoping against hope for an attempt to salvage their morning routine, to reestablish their connection.

"That's the last thing I need right now," Taehyung retorts, his words dripping with a hint of frustration and agitation. With that final declaration, he leaves, the door closing behind him with a resounding click. He leaves Jungkook standing there, his heart sinking with each receding footstep.

Suddenly as Jungkook clings to the coffee cup, its heat seeping through the creases of his calloused hands, it becomes more than a vessel for caffeine. It was a lifeline, a flickering ember of comfort in a desolate landscape.

(It seemed to be the only thing that carried a hint of solace, a temporary respite from the bone-chilling solitude that seemed to pervade every corner of his existence.)

It was silly really, possibly naive, that he was finding sanctuary in a simple coffee cup, but it felt like a fleeting refuge from the biting winds of indifference that gnawed on his bones these days. He couldn't help but believe the whispered promises that its fragile heat emanated.

After all, wasn't adulthood just pretending that the tantalizing taste of hope's delicate sugar crystals could wash out the taste of bitter reality?

He can do this.

✩★✩

He can't bear this.

It's stupid and utterly ridiculous, he's aware of it, fully cognizant of his won foolishness and sentimentality over such a trivial matter. But therein lies the crux, doesn't it? It doesn't feel small in the slightest.

It's a fucking paradox, really, how Jungkook finds himself shattered by a single dismissive remark (yes, it may be brief, but it's still a rejection, isn't it?). Taehyung is renowned among them as the frigid ice prince, a fortress of stone and indifference—despite all of them, especially Jungkook, knowing he's nothing short of an endearing puppy. Taehyung could have easily said something worse, could have unleashed a torrent of harsher words, could have sliced through the very core of Jungkook's being.

Honestly, he should be happy that it was just a mere curt response.

Yet, it pierces his heart like a thousand needles.

Because Taehyung, oh Taehyung, the embodiment of sweetness, compassion, warmth, and effervescence, the one who treated him to steaming bowls of comforting jjamppong, the one who cradled him in his arms during moments of tears, the one who stayed awake till the early hours watching k-dramas with him, the one who engaged in countless rounds of piano tiles, their laughter intertwining like a harmonious melody, the one who gazed at him as though Jungkook himself had birthed the moon and stars, the person who locked eyes with him and countered his disbelief by saying, "You didn't? Are you certain? The stars seem like your handiwork, delicate and luminous. It's only natural for beauty to create beauty. It's science!"—that very same Taehyung, who bared his emotions so openly that Jungkook could taste their intensity, had regarded him with a chilling mask of detachment.

The dichotomy is striking. Taehyung, the radiant sun that warmed his days, now appears distant and unyielding, a frigid moon casting its icy glow upon their once vibrant connection. It's a bitter pill to swallow, this sudden shift in dynamics, like sipping on a cup of scalding coffee only to find it has turned cold and bitter.

The irony hangs heavy in the air, mocking him mercilessly. The person he longs to confide in, to share his innermost thoughts and fears, is the very person who seems to have vanished from his grasp.

Jungkook knows he shouldn't let it affect him. After all, it was just a simple request, a mere invitation to spend time together. But the weight of that rejection presses against his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs, leaving him suffocating in a pool of self-doubt. He finds himself questioning every shared moment, every laughter-filled memory, wondering if it meant as much to Taehyung as it did to him.

He wants to laugh at himself or wring his own neck (both the options seem appealing). Here he is, a writer who pens heartfelt lyrics for moments like these, left grappling with the emptiness of words unspoken. It's as if the pages of their relationship have suddenly turned blank, devoid of the warmth and color that once filled them.

He replays their interactions in his mind, seeking solace in the echoes of Taehyung's past expressions of affection. The memory of his touch, the sound of his laughter, the gentle whispers of encouragement—they all feel distant now, like fading echoes in a cavernous chamber.

The morbid curiosity gnaws at his soul. What would it feel like if he were to disappear from Taehyung's life? Would there be a void, an ache, a longing? Or would his absence be merely a blip on the vast canvas of Taehyung's existence?

It's an unsettling thought, one that dances on the edge of Jungkook's consciousness, laced with a bittersweet desire for validation. He yearns to be missed, to have his absence noticed and mourned. It's a peculiar yearning, perhaps even a tad morose, but it's all he can feel right now.

He knows the futility of such ruminations. It's fucking stupid, honestly, life is complex, he knows this, and relationships are ever-shifting landscapes. In it, people come and go, leaving imprints on hearts before inevitably drifting away. If this happens to him one day, then, well, he'll just have to accept it, but thinking about these situations because of a mere sentence, that's pathetic.

He grapples with the inner turmoil, frustration bubbling within him like a simmering cauldron. It's a battle between reason and emotion, a clash of conflicting thoughts that threatens to consume him whole.

Rationality tells him to brush it off, to let it slide like water off a duck's back. After all, life is a tapestry of intricate connections, constantly weaving and unraveling, and he knows he cannot cling to every strand.

Yet, a nagging voice persists, taunting him with doubts and insecurities. It whispers that perhaps there's more to this seemingly insignificant incident, that he's missing some deeper meaning lurking beneath the surface. But he pushes it away, frustrated at his own overthinking.

Taehyung's frustration is understandable, he tells himself. People need space, time to reflect and recharge. It's only natural that Taehyung would want a breather from the ties that binds them all. But a treacherous part of his mind interjects, questioning why Taehyung didn't seek the same distance from Jin or Jimin last night. The inconsistency stings, fueling his internal turmoil.

Tomorrow, he reassures himself, they'll be back to their usual banter and laughter. It will be as if this incident never occurred, as if the brief rupture in their connection was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Tomorrow holds the promise of normalcy, of a return to the familiar rhythm they've always known.

But the present feels heavy, laden with uncertainty. Tomorrow seems like an eternity away, and he wonders if he can withstand the weight of these swirling emotions until then.

He has to, he reminds himself, sooner or later the passing of time will heal the wounds of this fleeting discord. In this grand tapestry of their lives, this momentary blip will be but a speck, a fragment soon to be lost in the vast expanse of shared memories.

He hopes that what happens.

He's been doing a lot of hoping lately.

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