road trip.

epilogue / blue moon

[this has been edited!]

ELEVEN MONTHS LATER
taehyung readjusts the strap of his dirtied dungarees on his shoulder, groaning slightly when it slips right off his shoulder seconds later. resigned, taehyung sighs and kneels by the many cardboard boxes stacked against the wall of his new bedroom, reaching for the box closest to him and hauling it onto his lap, paint spattered hands fumbling with the duct tape securing the box closed.

within seconds, the duct tape lies in a heap by his bare feet, the box placed haphazardly on his lap as he rummages through the contents of the cardboard, looking for the set of paintbrushes he purchased recently in order to paint the walls of their new home.

he draws out what feels like the cellophane covering of his paintbrushes and glances down at the item in his hands, a confused frown overcoming his features. "what—" taehyung starts, turning and studying the notebook in his hand with furrowed brows.

is this mine? or jungkook's? taehyung questions himself as he lifts the front cover of the notepad, curious eyes finding inked, neat notations littering the page; notations addressed to jungkook –– notations from taehyung.

surprised, the older blinks at the sight of his little notes created for jungkook when they were separated months ago from each other.

a slight smile overcomes the boy's face as he thumbs through page after page of notes he was meant to give to jungkook but never actually managed to. and rather than feel disheartened that he's forgotten all about this notepad, taehyung grins to himself as he reads words and phrases from his small entries.

miss you so much. medication. dear jungkook. to just go home. felt detached. in your arms. hospital. my heart hurts. ruby red hair. hate this. not with me anymore. i miss you. this—

he's grinning; he's grinning because he's no longer confined within a hospital ward, no longer scrutinised under apprehensive eyes. he's no longer weak, he's no longer stared at with something akin to sympathy in people's eyes, he's no longer suffering from chronic heartbreak. he's no longer alone –– no, taehyung's free, he's free now.

not bothering to properly read through his many notes, taehyung closes the notepad and smiles to himself as he thinks back to the heartache he experienced maybe ten months ago. he thinks back to the misery he was in, the pain he felt, and chuckles to himself, shaking his head slightly in disbelief when he compares his heartache to what he feels now; happiness, joy, love.

jungkook has way too much of an effect on taehyung.

nonetheless, taehyung's glad.

forgetting the paintbrushes he had acquired, taehyung climbs to his feet, notepad in hand and carefully weaves his way in and out of the moving boxes collecting dust in his bedroom. eventually nearing the door that he had closed after himself without realising, the older grins at the bass boosted music playing from jungkook's speakers, the loud laughter and the yells emanating from behind the heavy oakwood door.

pulling the door open, taehyung steps out onto the landing overlooking the supposed living room space below and walks over to the banister, leaning over the barricade with his elbows resting atop the wooden railings, still holding his notepad in his left hand.

smiling at the scene before him, taehyung cups his cheek with his free hand. his chocolate coloured eyes following the movements of his friends down below.