rain » vkook

seven

"thank you," he says, relief puncturing every syllable and his agonizing sincerity bleeding into the inflection of the words.

the rain turns the air itself wet and it's pouring down on us, plastering our hair to heads and pattering around us, the sound filling and erasing the silence. it throws everything into sharp relief, making the muted colors deeper and almost more vibrant. like the entire earth was thriving. and maybe the clarity of the rain is why we both release a breath and open up.

"how long?" i ask. "how long were you...together?"

he stares over the railing, down at the ground.

"a year," he whispers, the rain almost drowning out his words.

a year.

"why didn't you leave him? why didn't–"

"because i couldn't!" he doesn't shout, but his voice overpowers the rain and all the pain he had been carrying seemed to break forth. "i was afraid to leave him! i was afraid of what he'd do." and then he's choking on his words and a giant sob erupts from him like this is rock bottom. his body jerks and he throws his hands desperately over his face like he's ashamed.

he's trying to hold it in. like i used to in high school before i found out how to let canvas and paint hold my emotions. when i let them destroy me every night, after days of knowing i was different and days of abuse because of it.

"don't be afraid to cry," i tell him. "just cry."

and he does. he sobs and his fingers curl into tight fists and his entire body shakes until i'm scared that he's going to break apart.

so i wrap my arms around him.

he flinches and i immediately let go and i'm not sure who's more afraid – who's the creator of the sudden gap between us.

we're staring at each other. there's a need written across his face that clashes with his rooted feet.

raindrops dangle suspended in his long eyelashes, throwing his widened eyes into shadow. his glistening lips hang slightly open in shock, like his skin holds tiny earthquakes. the entire world narrows down so it's just him, and i swear i can count every drop of moisture on his cheek, like stars in the sky.

all his walls have fallen down and i can see his honest sorrow. i wasn't prepared for the way it made me crumble.

if it wasn't raining, i'd turn to sand.

but then taehyung's feet move and he's in front of me again, letting me know that his reaction was just a habit, and that hurts me so much to think about but i hug him again anyway.

i let him shake in my arms and i let the rain melt us into one person and i take some of his grief from him and shelf it next to my own to carry.

"i don't know what to do," he whispers, and i can't help but think how his rich voice, the one meant for loud words, seems so washed out and thin.

"why did we only meet in the rain?" i ask, unable to hold back the question. taehyung disentangles himself from my arms gently and gives a dry laugh.

we're standing close.

"because he hated the rain," taehyung says. then any ounce of humor in his face vanishes and he turns away, looking out over the empty black ribbon of the street once more. "he hated it, and the thing was, i couldn't bring myself to hate him. i kept clinging to the memory of when we first met, how gentlemanly and sweet he was. when it started going downhill, i couldn't believe it. so i didn't let myself. i pretended like it wasn't me he was shouting curses at, it wasn't me he was punching and kicking. and i pretended it wasn't me in the bathroom mirror, patching myself up, alone." his voice breaks.

(The Ground Can't Swallow You Up Because You Are The Cracks In The Earth.)

"he can't hurt you anymore," i say, although his words render me near speechless; burning with anger at the man. how could anyone treat taehyung like this? i desperately want to comfort him, but i am not ernest hemingway. my words don't work and i'm trying but i'm not trying hard enough.

"i loved him once," taehyung says softly. the night seems to take a big breath, heaving a relieved sigh like it had been waiting for this admittance and now it can continue on. but taehyung is left behind, stuck on the words. his eyes search mine.

"it's not your fault that you loved him. we can't choose who we fall in love with." i'm imagining my words as dark blue, feather light strokes against canvas and they're finally coming out in a way that feels intentional. "and humans as a whole crave love. it's hard to face a monster when that monster used to be someone who'd do anything for you. but you must know that he doesn't love you. not anymore."

taehyung flinches.

"love is not abuse," i say, voice accidentally ringing out into the empty night. i try to control my volume. "love isn't what you have described to me, so please don't think it is. please don't equate love with how that man had started to treat you because i promise that you don't deserve that."

i stare into his eyes until i can see him finally accept my words. until i see the turmoil quiet. until the rain becomes gentle and we move inside.

we dry off and i give him spare clothes. his eyes look puffy under the light, but he seems more at peace.

"you can sleep in my bed. i'll take the couch," i say. he looks like he's going to protest, but then he yawns and just nods.

"good night jeongguk," he says quietly.

and i'm not sure why, but in that moment, he sounds like the rain.

the next morning dawns slowly, soft and gray. i wake up to deep breaths and sit up, searching for the source of the noise.

taehyung.

he's sleeping on the floor, wrapped in all his blankets, hair spilling across one pillow while he hugs another.

and he looks so smooth. face unworried, relaxed, the smallest trace of a smile on his pale pink lips. it feels like my chest opens up, like the room inside of it where i shoved my mental paintings and loud voice and big head has been unlocked.

it's barely seven in the morning, but this new feeling inside me won't let me fall back asleep. it's too much of a revelation, and it feels strange. like there's air inside me, and the wind is a current i could easily get swept up by.

i get off the couch and stretch, enjoying the silence of the morning. then i set up my easel and paints and brushes and cups of water in the adjoining kitchen where i can still see taehyung sleeping and paint.

i paint the space inside my chest – me, faceless, holding open my skin so that rain and flowers and space matter spills forth. i paint seokjin and taehyung, earth and sky. i paint the world as i saw it last night – the rain encasing us in our own dimension, wrapping us in safety.

i paint taehyung. endless taehyung, just like the infinite expanse of the sky itself. i paint his watercolor rosy lips and i paint the rain around his body. i paint him in the movement of the night, and i paint the foggy street and him standing at the end, one arm reaching for me. like in the supermarket. but he's in warm colors, a smile on his face, yellow-orange emanating from him and bleeding into the blue and green tones surrounding him.

he won't drown. because he is the sky.

and i am picasso.