purgatory. » bts

045

—KNJ
1:39 PM KST

namjoon swallowed hard.

tears were brimming his eyes, not because he was sad, but because he just wanted to sit down and give up. everything he had worked towards, it was all shattered by a mistake that he didn't even mean to make. sure, that costed someone's life, but he didn't mean to. that couldn't possibly count, right? he was still a good person...right?

he felt hopeless. watching yoongi drown in a sea of needles was frightening, but what was even more frightening was that he was alone. but even if he tried to pull yoongi out, yoongi would've either pulled him inside along with him so that he wouldn't have to suffer alone, or it would end up in utter failure and he would've felt even more useless than before.

"namjoon, you worthless piece of shit," he sighed, dragging his nails down the side of the old wall, his head hanging low in shame. if he could ask for one thing, it wouldn't be gold, money, or fame, it would be to see his parents again and apologize to them properly.

he sighed, trudging across the dim hallways, the wood boards creaking under his feet; the hallway seemed to be endless. he swallowed thickly, sighing numerous times as if it would help his situation.

namjoon came across another door, his vision slightly hazy and his throat dry, to the point where it hurt to swallow his own saliva. his hands already felt weak, but he pushed through.

"ah."

he staggered back in shock, beginning to laugh uncontrollably—namjoon bent over, gripping his knees, his breath nearly going over; he regained control over his breaths, but the look of ridicule did not pass his face.

namjoon rubbed his eyes, looking at the wall; his heart plummeted when he saw his name scrawled on the surface.

my dearest namjoon—only the devil may help you in the depths of hell.

he scoffed, running his fingers over the black letters momentarily, before looking back at the first thing he saw when he came inside the room.

in the small, bug-ridden room, laid a large, old-fashioned furnace, the door hung open, as if inviting victims inside—when he squinted, he could see the glint of the glass vial deep inside—no, he could see two. his hopes skyrocketed, as he had double the chance of living and getting out of here alive.

without a second thought, he climbed inside, his nerves tingling on every acre of his body with every step of the knee he took. the entrance was quite small, but he did his best to ignore the old ashes and the smell of burning wood that seemed to be embedded within the whole machinery itself. as he climbed through, something other than the vials caught his eye. it was quite peculiar, as it was a nozzle with a drawing of something like the devil. he sighed, pushing through.

he coughed a little, reaching out for the vial—he hesitated for a second, before reaching out for the one on the left.

when he held it in his hand, it felt too light.

it's...empty.

no way.

before his instincts could tell him to reach for the other one, the door behind him closed shut, his heart rattling in his ribcage. he turned around, shaking, before he was blinded by a flare of white, red, orange, and yellow, flashing before his eyes; he scooted backwards, rubbing his eyes—but before he could open them, the instant smell of burning and fire erupted.

i chose the wrong one, he thought, gripping the empty vial. he dug his fingernails in his palm, registering the first signs of pain bursting from the soles of his feet, feeling the melting rubber of his shoes burn deep into his skin. he screamed, tears streaming out of his eyes like a broken faucet, the regret and self-pity wallowing and welling up inside of his chest, filling up to the brim like a bubble ready to burst; he could feel the flames scorching through his clothes, the red and orange bursts of light embedding into his skin accompanied by the unbearable pain.

in midst of the haziness, the pain, the regret, he could only think of one word.

beautiful.

it was as if he was part of a painting filled with the strokes of the shades of red.

the thoughts only shattered when the flames encroached near his face, licking away at his skin, the extreme heat giving way to his bones. his throat already hurt from screaming, and he could feel his skin melting into something disfigured.

the devil, the devil, the devil.

his lips parted.

"t-the devil," he stuttered, his body becoming numb—he looked around, his eyes squinting through the flames to search for the nozzle with the drawing of the devil. "the devil—the devil can help...me. the..."

his hand dropped, all his remaining strength being sucked out of his body. he could only loll his eyes sideways, but he didn't want to die in vain. he didn't want to die trying to do something he couldn't do.

as namjoon felt the last of his tears leak out from his eyes, he closed them, trying to recall the memories of when he was the happiest.

all he could remember in this hectic moment was his father, his mother, his girlfriend, his classmates, learning the flight of the bumblebee when he was six, and playing it over and over again for his parents.

he couldn't help but to smile, replaying the melody in his head over and over, like a lullaby rocking him to a peaceful sleep resting for an eternity after a restless night.

-

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