WAITING(Taekook/Taegi)

Waiting. We are all waiting for something. Whether it’s waiting for a loved one to come home after a long, and strenuous day at work, or waiting for that one, highly boring class to come to it’s end, or perhaps we’re waiting for that three minute microwaveable ramen to finally finish cooking, the ding of the microwave ringing in our ears as we fetch our prize from behind that translucent door; whatever it is, we’re all still waiting. And maybe it’s the anticipation, the aching of our mind and the shivering of our restless bodies that keeps us hanging onto something - wishing, hoping for its end, or for its return. Waiting is what keeps us going in life, even if the wait brings a sure promise of apathy. It's the one thing that keeps us latched on to that sheer thread of hope.

And maybe that’s what Taehyung had been thinking the night before, as he was glaring up at his ceiling, his brows furrowed in frustration while his fingers thrummed mercilessly against his stomach. It had been one of those nights. It was one of those nights where he couldn’t find it in himself to catch even the slightest wink of sleep, his thoughts scratching and clawing at the seems of his brain, making sleep almost impossible to attempt.

He wasn't able to wrap his mind around why Jungkook had let himself fall, why the raven had left him without an answer, why he had left when he knew Taehyung had needed him. Taehyung just didn’t understand, so the questions ate away at his brain, keeping him up at night to the point where they had gotten so intense, that Taehyung had cried himself dry. He was lucky if even the slightest mangled sob had slipped past his lips, wringing out his already aching vocal chords from deep down inside of his throat.

So here he sat, at the end of a small, bleak table, his eyes never leaving the surface of his coffee cup. His fingers were folded neatly around its bottom, as his other hand twirled a spoon around from inside the cup, creating small, foamy circles that always seemed to fade by the time the spoon had done a full lap around its interior. Taehyung found that the more circles he seemed to create, the more frustrated he seemed to become. He was so perplexed by the idea of it, the idea of how the circle always seemed to dissipate by the time the spoon had reached its starting point once again. It wasn’t like a scene in the movies, where the pale, brown circle was simply glued to the surface, looking as if even the tiniest penetration couldn’t mess up something so perfect; this was real life. This was real.

This wasn’t a picture perfect scene you’d see in the number one hard hitting action film of the year, this was real life, and there was no rewind, or pause, or fast forward button. So maybe that’s why the circle never stayed glued to the surface, because there wasn’t someone holding it there for the sake of a scene, it was just acting as is, responding to the ways of nature. The circle never seemed to stay in place because once something happens in nature, there is no way to undo it, and life will still continue to carry on as is, as if nothing ever even happened in the first place, and ma-

“Taehyung, are you even listening to a single word I’m saying?” Yoongi’s shrill, yet raspy voice had cut deep into his train of thought, causing his head to snap up as he glanced at the elder perched neatly across the table. His soft, pink colored hair was wet. His overly long bangs clung to his forehead as tiny, crystals of water dripped onto his warped and faded leather jacket. The droplets would slide down his shoulders in an avalanche, creating scattered streams as they went down his chest. Taehyung’s eyes followed the rivers until he couldn't trace them anymore, as if they were being consumed by the table's edge. His gaze had flickered towards the window beside him only to notice that it was raining, large, angry droplets practically slamming against the clear glass beside him. He hadn’t even noticed it was raining, hadn’t noticed Yoongi sliding into the seat in front of him, beginning to ramble on about whatever it was that he had needed to talk about with the younger. He was so lost inside his own mind that he couldn’t tell reality apart from fiction.

“God, I should’ve known you weren’t listening to me from the second I sat down. You didn’t even look up at me when I said ‘hello’ to you, do you realize that? You have absolutely no respect for your hyungs these days, you lil’ shit. You know, Namjoon had warned me about your behavior lately, and I thought he was bullshitting me for a long while there because I’m your favorite hyung, you would never ignore me, but I guess I was wrong. You don't even acknowledge me when I walk in, let alone speak to me! Taehyung, you have to tell me what is wrong, so what is it? What’s wrong?" He paused. "Is this… Is this about Jungkook?” Taehyung didn’t reply; he just couldn’t find it in himself to answer Yoongi. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, and Yoongi, that everything he was, and still is, revolves around a certain Jeon Jungkook. He couldn’t. He couldn’t possibly say that, but Yoongi knows him all too well.

“Oh my God, it is about Jungkook. Listen, Taehyung, Jungkook? Yeah, he left. He left all of us, and he left you. He’s not fucking coming back, Taehyung. When he took that step out of that door, he meant it for good, you got that? He betrayedyou; he walked away from you. He let himself fall, and he knew it. He fucking knew it. Now, I understand that it is hard to let go of him. I understand that you loved him, but you have to let go of him already. It has been eight months! Eight goddamn months have I had to sit here and watch you suffer, suffer because of what he did to you! Taehyung, you have to let him go. You have to give up on him, because he’s not coming back for you, or for any of us. He left you for dead, Taehyung, so why are you still hanging onto him? He-”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up already! Don’t you dare sit here and preach to me about I should get over him. I love him, and he loves me. He’s going to come back for me. He left because of you! Not because of me, but because of you! So, he’s going to come back! He’s coming back. He didn’t mean to leave. He’s coming back, Yoongi, he’s coming back! He’s going to come back to me, you got that? I mean, he has to come back for me. He promised me that he would never leave me, that he would never walk out on me. He promised me he would always be there for me, he promised me. Hyung, he promised me, and he never breaks his promises.” His hands immediately flew up to touch his cheeks, the heat of the flushed skin scolding his finger tips. Taehyung was crying by the time he had ended his spiel, those hot, wet tears streaming down his face, and God, had it felt so nice to finally cry.

He could feel Yoongi’s gaze from across the table, heated and filled with worry, and concern. But, what exactly was there to be concerned about? Jungkook had promised Taehyung that he would never leave him, that he would always come back for him, so why was Yoongi acting so hostile? Certainly, Jungkook was a man of his word, so why didn’t Yoongi believe him? Was it because he was crying? It wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t meant to cry, it just happened.

“Actually, you know what, maybe you’re right, Taehyung. Now, let’s get you home because I think we’ve caused too much of a scene already.” But something felt off.

Eight months had eventually turned into a year, and a year had turned into a year and a half, and by that point, Taehyung had begun to revert back into a normal routine. He'd wake up at six-thirty am to go out for his early morning jog, only to return by eight to make breakfast for himself, eat, finish his daily dues, and so on. In fact, he had even picked up a new job as an editor for one of Korea’s best-selling magazines. Everything was finally normal. Life was finally moving on, and Jungkook never slipped past Taehyung’s mind, not once. He was finally over what is Jeon Jungkook.

Taehyung was just finishing up the last button on the cuffs of his suit when he had heard Yoongi enter, the front door of his apartment slamming shut, as the faint rattle of keys emanated from the living room. He had a very important event for his job tonight, one of which he was to take part in the yearly interview for the new spring edition of this month’s magazine issue. Today was extremely important for Taehyung.

“Taehyung, I hope you’re almost ready in there! This thing starts at six, y’know, and I really wanna get this over with! You know how much I loathe hanging around all of those fakes that you work with,” Yoongi called out from the living room, a signal to let Taehyung know that yes, Yoongi was really here, and yes, Taehyung really needed to get a move on. Min Yoongi was anything patient, and Taehyung was far too afraid to see what he looked like when he was impatient. There had been previous rumors circulating around the community about how his friend had quite the temper, one that Taehyung hoped that he would never be on the receiving end of. He was just about to exit his room when he stopped, giving his pockets a thorough pat down before realizing he hadn’t his cellphone - he must have left it in the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready! I left my phone in the bathroom, so give me a second, will you?” And with that, Taehyung had scurried off to the bathroom, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he did so. After all, he was in quite the hurry, and he surely couldn’t be late for this event.

His fingers grasped the door handle, his mouth slightly ajar as he stared, almost mortified at the figure standing right there, right in the middle of his very own bathroom. The only thing that had come his mind was,‘Where were you? Why did you leave me? Where were you when I needed you?’ But he couldn’t speak, he could only eye the figure. His throat felt like cotton was lodge inside. He couldn’t move either, his feet were glued to the floor, his legs ready to give out as if they were made of jello, and it was exactly like a scene in a movie. This couldn’t possibly be real, this was the kind of things that happened in the movies. This wasn't real, he told himself over and over again, trying to convince himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, having surely convinced himself that there wasn’t a man standing in his bathroom, that the man standing in his bathroom wasn’t Jeon Jungkook, it wasn’t. There was no one there, nobody was there, he had to have been seeing things. Yet, when he opened his eyes, he was still there. His brown eyes were staring down at Taehyung with the most loving, sorrow-filled gaze. Taehyung was sure he had never seen it in his whole life.

“Ju… Jung… Jungkook,” Taehyung had finally managed to choke out, the syllables sounding so foreign on his tongue.

“Taehyung, oh, Taehyung. I missed you so much, babe, I am so, so sorry. I had no choice, you have to understand. I didn’t have a choice,” Jungkook pleaded, his voice hoarse and scratchy, echoing in Taehyung’s ears as he reached forward, enveloping Taehyung’s frail body into a tight hug. This isn’t real. This isn’t Jungkook. Jungkook can’t possibly be here.

“No... No... No, no, no. Where were you? Where. Were. You? I. Needed. You. I needed you so much, but you weren’t there! You weren’t there!” Taehyung screamed angrily, pushing Jungkook away from him, untangling himself from the latter’s grip.

“You left me for dead,” Taehyung growled out, pushing Jungkook harshly into the wall.

“You left me to rot,” Taehyung screeched maniacally as his fist found it’s way into Jungkook’s side.

“You could’ve stayed,” his fist had crept up to Jungkook’s rib cage, as he batted at it ferociously, forcing all of his strength into each blow, “but you didn’t!” He raised his knee cap, ramming it violently into the latter’s crotch. Taehyung didn’t notice Jungkook’s lack of response as he kept hitting him, screaming profanities at him, letting out every ounce of frustration on him. He left Taehyung to rot, he put Taehyung through so much pain to where it had gotten the point Taehyung didn’t care. He was just mad. No, he was beyond angry, he was lived, pissed even. He was pissed because Jungkook never stayed behind for him, never even looked back, he just kept walking. The thought of it had enraged Taehyung, fueling the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins as he threw more heavy blows. There was no end to Taehyung’s anger, only fuel to ignite a larger fire.

“Taehyung, what are you doing? What is all this noise? I thought you just had to find yo-” This time, it was Yoongi’s turn to stop dead in his tracks for once in his life, his gaze pausing on Taehyung as he looked in disbelief and shock. The bathroom was completely destroyed, as if a tornado had run though it countless times. There were bits of porcelain tile strewn all over the place, blood dripping down the walls from where Taehyung had busted his knuckles open, holes in the walls, and the shower curtain was completely obliterated, but most of all, Taehyung was screaming at nothing, punching at nothing, kicking at nothing, a nothing that he had perceived to be Jungkook, a man that was no where to be found. This was all in Taehyung’s mind, and Yoongi was scared. What had become of his precious, little dongsaeng? How could he have not known for the last year and a half that his best friend wasn’t mentally okay? How could he have not seen through Taehyung’s facade? If it was even a facade at all?

Yoongi didn't know what to do. Should he call an ambulance? Should he attempt to calm Taehyung down? To coax him out of this illusion he had buried himself in? His mind was racing, all of these possibilities of what he should do whipping past his brain in all directions at a speed that made his head throb. He tried to go through each solution, rationalizing each one down into a solid pulp. He needed to get Taehyung help, and fast.

“Taehyung! Hey! Taehyung! Yes, hi, hello, what in the blazes are you doing to your bathroom!?” Yoongi yelled at him, his demeanor flipping to one as if he was scolding Taehyung for doing wrong. He saw Taehyung visibly jump, backing away from the wall slowly before looking at his hands, then at Yoongi, then back at his hands, letting out a whimper of pain. All Yoongi could do was comfort him, arms wrapping around the younger protectively as he carefully set him on the toilet, hovering over the boy as he did so.

“Shh, Taehyung, shh. C'mon, tell me what happened. Why are you acting like this?” Yoongi cooed into his ear, bringing his hand up and lacing it into his hair, rubbing his scalp softly as he listened to Taehyung sob violently into his chest.

“He was… he was there and he… he… he tried to tell me… tell me that he didn’t have a choice… and I… I got so angry with him… and… and… and… he… he was never there. He was never there. It was all in my head. Yoongi, when is he going to come back? He promised me he’d never leave, so why is he not back yet? I’ve been waiting all this time for him, and he never came back. Yoongi! Why isn’t he here? Where did he go?” Did Taehyung really not remember? Did he not remember what happened that night? Did he not remember the article he wrote that got him to this point? Did he not remember what happened exactly six months ago from today? How could Yoongi have been so oblivious to his own friend’s oblivion?

“Tae… do you not remember what happened six months ago? Do you not remember watching the news with me that morning in October, only to find that they found an unidentified body in the quarry? Do you not remember having screamed at the image of his face on the screen? Do you not remember having identified his body? Taehyung, do you not remember that Jungkook is dead? That he has been dead since the night he left? That the only reason you are able to attend this event is because of the article you wrote on him for this spring edition six months ago? Do you remember anything at all?”

Taehyung searched his brain, racking in every possibility, every memory, for something, anything of Jungkook’s death, but there was nothing. In fact, he has no recollection of the past year and a half. It’s just this dark, blank space in his mind that he blocked out because he couldn’t deal with it, because he convinced himself that this wasn’t real, and that the things that weren’t real, were real. He had been living in a fantasy world for the past year and a half, and he had no idea. He was crazy, and he didn’t even know he was crazy.

He had been waiting for someone to return, waiting for someone that no longer existed for all this time, and he hadn’t even realized. He was waiting for someone who doesn’t even exist anymore. He was going insane; he was insane. He looked up at Yoongi, eyes as wide as saucers, his whole body shivering with shock, and screamed

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