Between Truths ║Dahkook║K.DH J.JK

between dreams and realities

'Count to ten.'

It was what his mother had told him when he was just a boy and struggling to fall asleep. More than sleep, he longed to dream. In those same vivid colours he knew. Of knights and pirates, of riches and palaces, of princesses and dragons and he, a hero.

It had been his favourite place, then.

He would count to ten. In naïve and fevered belief in her words. Then, counted another ten. And another. Then, another until he was sailing on sparkly blue waters, the ground underneath him rocking steadily in lulling rhythm of the strong waves and he could almost taste salt from the breeze. He looked around and he saw nasty crewmen thumping about, full barrels stacked on deck, and the friendly talking parrot.

When he eventually stopped dreaming, he yearned for the blessed sleep harder. He could not remember ever having a nightmare, but the heavy exhausting weight of his realities had felt like one. So, he counted with the same feverish hope. Still to ten. Never beyond. Even after he knew all his numbers. Because a hundred had always seemed so far away.

And Jeon Jungkook became impatient like that. Like how he would not count that night because he knew he could not fall asleep anyways. Not after how his day had sunk in like a wrecked ship into the midnight abyss.

So, he simmered in his rage, let it build into a magnificent, vengeful inferno until it was recklessly unrestrained. It was why he had flown out of bed at one in the morning. Strode towards the field, furious storms swirling in his wake. He tore through the night, screams piercing, and body unfairly punished. For hours and hours until his throat was sore, his vision blackening at the corners and his feet collapsing beneath him. Like how Rome fell in a day, it was even easier for his pathetic life to crumble in the span of the same time.

Jungkook heaved a desperate lungful of air. His chest burned painfully with each breath. He dropped onto his back like rock tossed into water, sprawled, his arms and feet laden dead weights. Fatigue chased him harder when he was still.

He counted the stars then. To ten. Except that when he had counted to ten again, he knew that it was to a hundred. He had never added before. His haste had made sure it was never a problem. His temper flared again; the anger burned brighter than the stupid stars. It was a tired sort of frustration that kept him awake despite his body begging to shut down.

Fuck. Everything was fucked.

The vibration on his thigh then, had felt like Déjà vu; the jarring sound of buzzing a joke. A sick replay of his day because life always had morbid humour. But because he was just a character playing out a scene given to him, helpless and small, Jungkook moved.

Slow.

He dragged the zipper of his pocket down, waited for the phone to slip out of his joggers. Then, fumbled lazily in the dark to put the call through, and on loudspeaker. In the blunder, the phone suddenly went silent next to him.

Jeon Jungkook wondered who it might have been.

Then, it had felt heavy, but he wondered if Yein and her mother were doing fine. He had followed them both back to their home after the older female was treated for her concussion and cast for her broken arm after a hard fall. But if Yein was calling at such odd hours, it must have been important. 'She wouldn't call otherwise.' It was a bitter afterthought, he knew. So, he kept his silence.

Or it might have been his careful mother worrying needlessly about him and his whereabouts again. She must have finally caved to give him a call. It was the weekends, and he knew she always waited on him even when he had not said that he was coming home. If it were her, he hoped she would hang up because it was easy to lose his temper on her. It should be enough for her to know that he was safe. Enough that he had picked up her call.