Honey Daisy ✭ KTH [м]

ʜɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴀᴅ ᴊᴀᴄᴋ

╰☆☆☆☆╮

The porch glow provided enough electricity to light up the yard. Your hands waved off and on in front of your face whenever a buzzing mosquito or gnat dared to bother you. 

The air was hot, remnants of the summer season. A faint tapping of rain ricocheted off of the porch roof, and thunder passed by now and then. The smell of damp cement and grass filled your nostrils, relaxing you even further.  

There was only a month left before the weather would begin to change for autumn, and you felt a deep-seated dread. 

Yet, you tried not to think about it too much and focused on Taehyung's messy hair. Straw stuck to his shirt as he had just gotten home from work. The scent of hay and dirt clung to his skin. 

"My father gave me this before he left," Taehyung murmured, flipping his switchblade over and over again, the sound of metal scraping echoed underneath the metal awning. "I don't know why I still have it. It's not an honorable thing." 

With a nervous drop in your gut, you observed the blade closely, studying its sharp end and serrated edges. You held out your hand when he handed it to you, balancing the weight of it on your palm. It wobbled back and forth, verifying it had lost its worth over the years. 

"Have you ever used it on anyone?" 

The hot air abruptly turned stifling. Without a word, Taehyung shut the blade and offered it back to you. You marveled at the black and grey as your thumb stroked the grip, the rest of your fingers curling around it. 

"Have you?" you asked again. 

Taehyung leaned his back against the house. He nibbled on his lip while the rest of his taut body froze like a statue. 

"Y/N, I've done a lot of things in my past that I'm not proud to admit. That blade has seen a lot of blood," he heavily sighed. "Though it doesn't matter how much I clean it, it can still be haunting now and again." 

You clenched your teeth. 

Oftentimes, you found yourself having to be reminded that being a greaser wasn't just an image. Brutality was never a thing that bothered you since you grew up with it, but it was hard to imagine someone like Taehyung using a weapon against someone. You didn't even want to think if he had killed anyone, and you were never going to ask him. That information was best left in the dark. 

The bugs droned in your ear, and you waved a feverish hand around your face. Your other hand, still clasping the blade, reached out for him to take it. 

Taehyung shook his head. "I want you to have it. You're going to need something for protection."

While you eyed the knife, Taehyung gently placed his fingers beneath your jaw to raise your chin. He lightly smiled, the happiness escaping his eyes for a moment.