taehyung started growing tired of daisies.
the days flew by, and for every time he would rush to somewhere private in order to empty the contents in his lungs the petals would be in a bigger amount. growing larger and larger with each passing day.
he was tired.
to say the thought of going under the knife to rid himself of the pain wasn't considered would be a blatant lie, but the many moments he had shared with jeongguk convinced him otherwise. he couldn't forget them, even if it might lead him to his demise.
when he was younger, he used to be called a hopeless romantic.
those days, he despised that trait of his.
he loved love in all of its forms, loved being both the giving and receiving end of love and affection. and although it was easy for him to become attached to people, he had never felt anything like the way jeongguk made him feel.
even though it was present tense for taehyung, it was past for his husband. scientists say passion lasts for two years at best and he had never believed in that, until jeongguk fell out of love– until he started getting home an hour too late and leaving an hour too early, hanging out too much with this coworker named yoongi, giving him gifts that were more expensive than thoughtful, more of an apology for his absence than out of love– and most importantly, moved on from whatever he thought he felt for taehyung.
taehyung couldn't forget the good moments he had with jeongguk,
(that was all he had left.)
and made his choice.
taehyung started throwing up his petals with a little extra red dotting the water in their toilet, and jeongguk didn't know.
