Young and Free | BTS [√]

san ju ni

Jungkook had found himself stuck in a maze and he didn't care and cared a lot at the same time.

The room's door would be locked most of the time when Diana would go out. She most possibly had a mediocre job of nine to five, it definitely paid well to rent this apartment in Gangnam.

Gangnam, Jungkook remembered where he was. His head had started to hurt again, he felt tired and exhausted.

How long had he been here? There wasn't a clock in the room, it was poorly furnished but was it always like that?

Did Diana lock the door because in a frenzy Jungkook could try to harm himself again? Did she take away all the furniture on that same thought?

Or was it all to keep him in? Was it so he wouldn't escape?

Panic started to rise again.

His hands were clammy with sweat. The door wasn't lock now, it was probably night and Diana was probably at home. The thoughts started to churn inside of him but rather than the ruminations involving Mrs Noh, his profession as a camboy, or what Diana did to him that day, something else was occuring. Rather than feeling ashamed, revolted, repulsed at himself, Jungkook thought and thought,

How long had he really been in here?

Why did he never get up to go out the door anyway? It was within his reach.

But if he tried to, he'd see Diana and even a glimpse of her, or her voice would reach down to his other side of the brain and the other thoughts would start clawing at him. Sometimes he really cried so hard he couldn't remember anything. It might have been scary because even she was avoiding him.

Jungkook looked at the bedside table and saw two of those round pills lying there, meant that he hadn't touched them in the morning, the evening one too, yet.

How long had he been here?

He could barely incline his head from the bed but for the first time, he turned his head around to take it in clearly. He was wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, he didn't know if this was the attire he arrived wearing at first. A closet at one corner of the room laid with its doors gaping, and he noticed men's clothing hanging there.

That was merely it. But he must've stayed here for longer.

How come he couldn't properly remember what he did in this room? Snippets of him sleeping, eating, Diana trying to visit arose, nothing else.

It was the same all over again.

He couldn't remember his past and lived all his twenty one year of life like that, and he thought, once he had thought, that someday he would grow old and wouldn't be able to recall one single thing.

Because rather than being a participant in his own life, he was always observing.

He had that thought in the dorm. The dorm, shouldn't he be there?

His throat was parched, the inside of his mouth dry, and he could feel sweats in form of beads showing up on his forehead under his bangs, even though the AC was working fine, and he could hear a faint voice of Diana from the living room, probably speaking on a phone.

God, why was he like that? Why was he living like that?

His breathing pattern started to be haphazard again.

Why did he keep forgetting bits of his life? Why did time always went by so fast yet so slow to him?

Why was everyone so cruel to him?