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Taehyung feels something cold clutching at him. As soon as his eyes start to peel open, as soon as the world starts to open itself up before him, he becomes aware of the cool grasp that's digging against his ribs. There's a manic caw of birds outside, and he tries to relax into the sound, but it only makes something more ominous stir.

Casually pushing his elbow into the mattress, he forces his head away from the pillow, as though the comfortable contraption was somehow sucking in all his comprehensive skills. With a slightly clearer frame of mind now that he's up right, Taehyung manages to look around his room. Everything looks normal, but that sinking cold feeling is still coiling at his gut, canoodling round his liver. His eyes travel around and everything is calm, quiet, until they meet a pair of eyes looking straight at him.

He can't withhold his screech, as those eyes stare darkly, blankly, forward, as if trying to tear down his skin and ogle plainly at his soul.

"Fuck!" He gasps, before slamming his head back down on the pillow, hoping, this time, maybe the lack of comprehension this position brings forth shall be beneficial to him.

The person slumped in the armchair, that's almost like a secondary wardrobe, with the amount of clothes distributed on it, in the corner of the room, shrouded in their very own dark shadows, stares at him without saying a word.

Taehyung gulps to himself — he should've expected this. He supposes some part of him already knew it was going to happen, but he didn't imagine it to be so soon. He pulls at the only sense of hope he has, as he pulls himself up once again and glances wearily at the figure slumped over in the chair. "You... uh, you been there long?" He tries his best at a smile, tries to make himself seem as sweet and vulnerable as possible.

But Jeon Jungkook doesn't fall for it. His face remains fixed at stony; he's never really been an intimidating individual, was more adorable than anything, but, right now, with those deep, dark eyes and those exudes of nightmare that swarm him, he's nothing short of terrifying.

"How could you?" Is what he asks, doesn't answer Taehyung's question, just piles on his own.

Taehyung gulps and forces himself to sit up fully. "I'm sorry." He blurts out, immediately, with a definitive need to derive some sort of placating feeling from the atmosphere. He chokes on his soul as he tries to say, "I didn't do it to hurt you, I—"

"You lied to me and you did the one thing in the world I asked you not to do." Jungkook interrupts him. It's a very un-Jungkook-like thing to do; the boy never tended to delve into any behaviour that may constitute impoliteness. He was frank and bold, but he tended to come across with a more mild, well-mannered temperament. This sudden metamorphosis was unwelcome and unsettling.

"I know." Taehyung admits, as guilt lines his stomach, and he forces himself to remain watching the younger. "But, I really only did it because I thought it was best." He tries, but he's not even sure himself if he has a reasonable explanation.

It had been a heat of the moment thing, it had been the vulnerability that pulsed between him and Jimin the night before, as they'd clustered together beneath the shared fear of the unknown. He thinks he must've clung onto the only hope he had, the idea that the beauty of Jungkook's existence could make them less terrified.

"You don't get to make those decisions." Jungkook frowns, but he doesn't sound stern, not really, not at the corners of his box-like speech. He's soft as the edges, always has been, and now always be. He tries to be firm, but he's leaning forward in the armchair slightly and it almost looks like he's searching for a way to forgive the older.

Taehyung desperately seeks to provide him with it. He says, "I know." It's not strictly true — in fact, he really is the only one who could've made those decisions, but, well, for this moment, he thinks Jungkook needs to believe he has some sort of autonomy over how he can interact with the real world. "But, he started to see ghosts, Jungkook."

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