N-No...
This can't be right...
Frustrated and disbelieving tears spring to my wide eyes as I stare, shocked, at the moving image before me.
It shows Jungkook pinning another woman who appears to be roughly his age against his locked bedroom door, one of his large hands gripping both of her wrists that he's holding firmly over her head. Both are completely undressed and their lips are locked together, flashes of tongue visible to my shocked eyes as they both war for dominance over the other. Nausea twists my stomach as I notice two more female demons lying sprawled on his bed, completely exposed without a single stitch of clothing clinging to their bodies. Their heaving chests and flushed faces confirm my greatest fear, and I avert my watering eyes from the scene to stare at the cloaked creature that is hovering silently beside me.
"T-This can't be right!" I choke out, violently shaking my head in vain denial despite the evidence that is clear before me. "That can't be him! Jungkook wouldn't do this! He's changed!" But the desperation edging my voice makes it obvious that I'm struggling to convince myself rather than the being.
"Look back at the image." The being orders me, all signs of sympathy dissipating from its voice.
"No!" Tears sting my eyes.
"Look!" A sudden roar of impatience emits from the floating being, threatening to rock the ground beneath my unsteady legs.
Bottom lip quivering slightly, I force myself to turn my eyes back to the ever-shifting picture. The scene has changed now, showing Jungkook lying sprawled on his carpeted floor, his body limp as he stares absently up at the ceiling. His hair is messily tousled and his skin has gone a deathly and unnaturally pale, porcelain-white against his stark ebony locks. His crimson eyes that were once gleaming with affection and genuine kindness are now vacant and sharpened with a frigid cruelty, darting aimlessly. His body seems to have shrunk, his muscles having deteriorated as his tight shirt showcases his prominent ribcage, indicating that he hasn't been eating. His cheeks are hollow and gaunt, his body absolutely drained of the lively ball of energy that had once consumed him.
"Kookie," I whisper brokenly. A single pearl drop escapes my eye, trickling down my cheek as I glance up at the spirit. "What is this? What's happening to my baby boy?" Never have I used the term 'baby boy' before, but it rolls so effortlessly off my trembling lips.
"Look."
I unwillingly turn my head to glimpse at the next scenario that's being presented. This time, it shows what I assume to be the present. My lifeless body is lying limply on Jungkook's bed, just like how I had left it initially. Jungkook is pressing his forehead to my clothed stomach that no longer rises and falls, tears glinting beneath the sharp light as violent sobs wrack his body. Much to my surprise, Yura, Taehyung, and Yoongi all accompany him, their grief-stricken faces gazing down at my abandoned body with tearful eyes. I see Taehyung's lips move for a brief amount of time as he glances at each of them in turn before all four of them promptly collapse into sobs.
He did what I asked... He told them what I wanted them to remember...
Almost instantly, sorrow swamps me as their grieving expressions etch themselves into my mind. "W-Why are you..." I sniffle faintly. "Why are you showing me this?"
"I'm showing you the future that your sacrifice leads to." The being explains bluntly. "Keep in mind that these are merely images of what could happen, not what will happen. If things keep on this path, the Jungkook will revert to his old ways shortly after your death, carelessly using other women for pleasure and then leaving them heartbroken the next day, hoping that it would numb the pain of losing the one he loved most."
Angry tears streaking my face, I resort to raising my voice. "What is this for?" I shout. "Is this to make me feel guilty for saving Jungkook's life? Because if so, you can stop... there's nothing I can do at this point." I glance up, my throat suddenly barren with anger and sorrow while my eyes release tear after tear. "Who even are you? What even are you?"
"You can call me Spirit," the being responds. "For I have no true name."
"Well, Spirit," I lash, "why are you showing me these things? Or do you just like to further torture those who have already suffered through death?" All of my good judgment has been cast carelessly to the wind, emotions snatching control of my functions and carving my tongue into a venom-tipped blade. I am beyond furious and my mind is swirling with hurt.
"Watch your tone, (Y/N)." Spirit's voice drops into a sharp, warning snarl whose echo blasts through the darkness. I fall into a bitter silence, tears still trickling down my cold cheeks. "One more disrespectful word and I will confine you to the Place of Blood where you will be tortured day and night. I have spent eternity in this vacant, crushing darkness and my patience and temper are running low."
"I've already been put through more torture than you could ever imagine," my voice wavers. "What difference would it make?"
At that moment, Spirit withdraws. The cloaked being floats backwards into the hovering darkness, placing roughly two extra feet of space between us. The aura emitting from the unidentified creature carries a strong sense of shock at my answer, and the piercing eyes visibly widen.
At this point, torture doesn't frighten me.
Not anymore.
"You don't fear me," Spirit simply muses. "Why?"
"Because the torture of bearing the knowledge that I ran when my parents were being slaughtered and that it was my fault that Jungkook died in the first place is more than any physical torture that you could drop on my shoulders." I respond in a monotone, emotions having been drained from my voice. "If you're going to send me to the Place of Blood, then just do it. I won't stop you."
A weighted silence collapses onto the seemingly endless, ebony space as Spirit merely hovers before me with perplexity gleaming in those ruby orbs. I just stand on unsteady legs, holding Spirit's gaze unwaveringly as I wait patiently for the final verdict. Roughly twenty seconds of empty silence pass before Spirit speaks once more.
"You're a unique child," it murmurs. "Once so innocent and carefree, but now weighed down with the burdens of those around you and crushing grief..." the puzzlement in the eyes melt away, replaced with a surprisingly warm kindness. "I choose not to send you to the Place of Blood."
My eyes widen. "Are you sending me to my parents in the Place of Light?"
"No." Spirit denies, instantly extinguishing the small flame of hope dancing in my chest and causing the sudden small smile to plummet from my lips.
"Then where?"
"I'm sending you back to Jungkook."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jungkook's POV
It's been three weeks since my angel selflessly surrendered her life for me, but it's been the most agonizing and grief-stricken three weeks of my entire life. Each day I arise, heart slamming wildly in my chest as I rip the blankets from my body and search the room restlessly for someone who clearly will not return, clinging to the hope that this may have been some extensive, cruel dream. Each night I am gripped by the same repetitive nightmare that plays in my mind like a scratched record; the one that forces me to watch her die over and over right before my eyes without being able to do anything for her but watch in pained horror. Since the night of (Y/N)'s death, I haven't conversed with another soul and have constantly rejected anyone who attempts to speak to me. Grief-wracked, I can only lie limply on my floor or bed as I replay the crushing memory of her chest stilling and the light dying from her eyes as I hold her in my arms. I have been haunted by self-loathing and grief, both emotions gifting me with a loss of appetite and dark rings beneath my eyes that are raw with tears.
I cannot function properly without (Y/N) by my side.
But today had been different.
Today, Namjoon had shoved three prostitutes into my room, thinking that I needed something to remove my mind from my angel, and barred my door from the outside despite my enraged protests. But before long, my hormones had taken control, with the aid of the skimpily-clad prostitutes, and I had soon had sex with all three of them in turn; but only because I had stupidly figured that this would drown out the agonizing grief that's constantly swirling in my stomach.
But I was wrong.
I was so, so very wrong.
I had presumed that the sexual distraction would numb the pain, but it only formed an alliance with my lingering grief and self-loathing.
I felt disgusting.
I felt vulnerable.
I felt like a traitor.
I never knew that I could be so stupid and dense as to believe that sex with any woman other than my beloved angel would overshadow my guilt and self-hatred that had decided to reside in my heart.
But, here I am.
Yura has isolated herself within her room, unwilling to allow anyone to even enter her room. Taehyung hasn't gone a day without breaking down in wracking sobs, especially when participating in his job surrounded by other demon advisers who haven't realized exactly how close Taehyung was with (Y/N). Despite having known her for only a brief amount of time, Yoongi has become distant and absent-minded, refraining from writing due to his hands that still tremble with sorrow.
(Y/N) has left a huge impact on all of us, whether she realized it while she was living or not.
I always should've treated her like the precious angel she was, I think bitterly. All of those harsh words, I never meant them. Not one. But now it's too late to cherish her like I always should have. She's gone... and it's all my fault.
I don't know why she even bothered to sacrifice her life, especially when I've done nothing but belittle and slice into her with harsh words and demeaning nicknames until a few days before... her death. I don't deserve this. I want to kill myself, but I can't just waste her life like that.
But how can I live with myself, knowing that this is all my fault?
Taehyung was right...
(Y/N)... my angel... come back to me.
I can't do this without you.
~End POV~