WHXRE ;; TAEGGUK

two

Pleasure was relative.

Like everything really.

Too much of anything, too much of nothing, too much of craving and wanting and hating and detesting, nurturing, and sinning and loving.

It'd only be detrimental to your mindset and your body. Feelings, both physical and mental, big and small. They were relative too. Jeongguk felt when he thought it was necessary, cried when he thought it were dire.

His laugh? He laughed, though not so often.

Such circumstances were rare, and it would be difficult to get a glimpse of his smile considering his unearthly disposition. He'd grant himself a reward, in some alternate universe where it would be adequate and socially acceptable to be happy with his life.

But pleasure?

He had too much of that.

To the extent that he no longer felt it, no longer experienced the exhilaration, the commodity that so many had the privilege of sipping like sweet red wine on a fine Sunday afternoon. He'd indulged in all that far too early on, exploited it far too much to be reasonable.

Maybe twice or thrice would be what were acceptable, the average, even. A drunk college kid on his way back to his not-so-expensive dorm in a not-so-expensive part of Seoul who had stuck his tongue down some poor girl's throat at a party. That's how he had envisioned himself had his life been a little more on the simpler side of things.

Unfortunately not.

College boy, he was.

But so much more than that.

Jeongguk's shaking fingers grazed gently at the tattered spine of the small little journal he held delicately in his hands. The beige pages hanging on for dear life from the feeble binding that did little to hold together the beautiful words that were scribbled upon infinite pages.

It was the only possession he had that he truly cared for, really.

As old as it was, its age and tattered state wouldn't sway his mind to buy another, it simply wouldn't be the way it was meant to work. Besides, what could he possibly do with this one and its useless yet treasurable contents?

He tucked it away carefully in his back pocket, shivering slightly from the chill that ran through his room, along his naked arms that the sleeves of his hoodie failed to cover. Sighing, he reached for a pen from his bedside table. He had little else to take with him, travelling light because nothing he owned seemed to be of use to him in the future.

His clothes perhaps.

Though so many had seen him without them, had seen his bare body, that even they too seemed utterly useless. It made him feel like nothing. Jeongguk felt nothing, a little like what his worth was.

In those rare, sparking unspeakable moments that he did, the feelings never lasted long.

He'd call it bliss, indefinitely.

"Everything?" A low voice asked from behind his bedroom door. Yoongi knew better than to walk in without permission. He had that much respect for him at least. The respect that few others seemed to possess in their wake. He admired that dearly. "Have you packed everything? Are you sure you want to do this Jeongguk?"

"Hyung." He called out softly, beckoning the older inside. The younger shifted to face him, chin up with a fierce pride that he knew Yoongi would want to see. Would need for a bit of faux reassurance that he would be alright. Tentatively, Yoongi opened the door, face ash-sunken with weariness. He gave him a small smile. "Not like there's any other option." Jeongguk proclaimed, as a matter of fact.