Dreaming Alone | taekook ✔️

s i x t y - n i n e

I'm naming the voices in my head
They keep on telling me to give in

paralyzed
~ atc

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Pain that's expected doesn't make it hurt any less.

There were no dreams. No visions.

The ravenette sat up in silence, hoping— praying to hear Taehyung waking up as well. A rustle from his room perhaps? He hums when he's awake. Was there any humming from outside? Anything to show he was up?

No. Nothing.

But soulmates were supposed to wake up at the same time.

The realization dawned on Jeongguk merely a few seconds after he was jolted awake—

Their soulmate bond broke.

It crushed him. Slowly. Agonizingly slow. He felt it in his throat, in his chest. The way his muscles contracted in shock and disbelief.

Jeongguk wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream and cry and throw a damn fit. Why would the universe gift him a soulmate to fall in love with just to take it from him? Why present him with the best things in life just to steal them away?

He knew roses didn't come without thorns. But taking the whole banquet away from him?

He wanted his happily ever after. He wanted love— no, he craved it. But he kept losing and losing till nothing felt permanent.

For the past few months, Jeongguk fought to fill his mother's absence with Taehyung's love. His touch. His comfort and warmth and everything in between.

He was empty now. A shell of a boy. Skin and bones.

And he should be angry. He had every right to be angry. But his mind and body fell back into a familiar pattern of grief.

Numb.

No tears. No anger. Just— a numbness that seized his emotions, seeking to protect him from the inevitable pain.

Jeongguk sat frozen on his bed, forcing swallow breathes when every inhale felt like a waste of oxygen.

It was dark. Too dark. Too complimentary to his inner turmoil. The only moonlight that reached the bedroom floor weaved through the fabric of the curtain.

God knows how long Jeongguk sat there with his consciousness shut down. His limbs were stiff and he blinked the time away slowly.

__________

tw:
hints at self-harm
but absolutely nothing graphic

__________

When he finally moved, his body was on autopilot, carrying him off his bed and out his room door. The walls of the cabin were adorned with revisiting demons, ones he hadn't met in a very long time, and they sang their greetings in his ears.

The stairs were cold under the bare soles of his feet and his heart palpitated beneath his ribcage.

The kitchen was colored monochrome, drawers, and cabinets neat and inviting. Jeongguk reached for them.

He wanted something sharp.

Desperate hands rummaged through every inch of the kitchen, not finding what he was looking for.

He wanted something to make him feel alive again, something to make him human. With each passing second, his desperation heightened. And the more desperate he was, the more aggressive his movements became.