The Hybrid Whisperer KTH+JJK

Thirteen

After their altercation things began to even out, back into a familiar rhythm. Jeongguk still made a show of being sullen and tetchy, pretending he didn’t care, that Taehyung wasn’t the rock to which he clung when the sea of his turbulent emotions tossed him mercilessly about. Taehyung continued to tread that fine line between friend and surrogate owner.

After every session Taehyung would wash Jeongguk’s hair and when it was brushed and dried, he would lay with the hybrid in his bed, ignoring the way his body sang at the feel of Guk’s body tucked against him. He became a shield between the bunny and the rest of the world that kept the pain and loneliness at bay.

It was late when he got home from his Tuesday session with Jeongguk. Despite the hour, Taehyung was filled with pent up energy. He had spent the bus ride home willing his riotous body to calm, refusing to violate Jeongguk that way, even in his own fantasies. But the exercise often left him restless and without focus. He paced his tiny apartment, eager for an outlet for his agitation. When none presented itself he decided to go through the motions of his nightly routine, hoping the familiarity of it would trick his restless body into calm.

He put his phone and replacement laptop on charge, repacked his bag for tomorrow’s classes and checked his door and windows to make sure they were locked. When he was satisfied grabbed his pyjamas and a clean towel and headed to the bathroom.

The spray of the shower ran over him like a touch. Instead of lulling him to calm, the warm water sluiced over his sensitised skin like a lover. Arousal snaked through him and he stubbornly jerked the tap, blasting his traitor body with icy water. But even those stinging needles did nothing to quiet his fever. He grit his teeth and grabbed the soap, scrubbing at his skin roughly.

His body throbbed and ached, his skin hot under the cold water. He knew pleasure and peace were just a touch away. What would it matter? Who would it hurt? It was just another need, like hunger or thirst. It was purely physical. He didn’t have to surrender to his fantasies to sate himself. He bargained with himself. His scrubbing hands gentled as he gave in to his temptation.

But with each firm stroke of his hand it was Jeongguk that he saw. Jeongguk with his perfect pink lips and his pretty doe eyes. Jeongguk with his wide shoulders and lean hips. Jeongguk with his hard body and soft skin. Jeongguk with his silken hair and velveteen ears. Jeongguk who scowled and smirked. Jeongguk who nuzzled and purred. And when he came it was with Jeongguk’s name on his lips.

Shame flooded him, chasing the lingering pleasure from him as though it had never been. He scrubbed the sticky evidence of his transgression down the drain and snapped off the freezing water. He stepped out and roughly dried himself, punishing his flesh with every harsh flagellation. He yanked on his pyjamas and crossed to the sink. His eyes skidded away from his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth, gagging when he pushed it too close to his throat.

He climbed into bed, alone with his thoughts. Weak. Disgusting. Pervert. A litany of self-loathing. He squeezed his eyes shut, a whimper of distress trapped behind his lips. He deserved it. He deserved it all, the guilt, the pain, the hate, the disappointment, the disapproval, the disgust, the scorn.

When his phone vibrated on his bedside at four fifteen am it did not wake him. He hadn’t slept. His eyes were grainy and tired, the screen of his phone blurry and illegible. He pressed the green circle and brought it to his ear.

“Hello?” His voice was deep with exhaustion.

“Tae?” A querulous voice, familiar and beloved.

“Eonjin?” He whispered, wondering if his mind was cruel enough to imagine this.

“Tae it’s Papa. He’s...He’s... You should come.” She said, her voice choked with tears.

“Where are you? What happened?” He asked in rising fear. He tore the blankets from him and got to his feet.

“He’s sick. The doctors say he doesn’t have long.” She pleaded and he gripped the phone so tightly he thought it might break.

“Are you sure he wants me there, Eonjin?” He asked, torn.

“Please? Come home, oppa.” She begged and he closed his eyes to fight back the emotions that threatened to swamp him. He’d missed them so much.

“Ok.” He let out a shaky breath. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He promised.

He threw a change of clothes on haphazardly and dumped the contents of his school bag on his bed before shoving more clothes inside. The zip caught twice on the escaping fabric as his shaking fingers tried to close it. He pulled his shoes on, not bothering with socks. In less than four minutes he was out the door and ordering an uber.

But soon was too late and by the time he’d arrived at the hospital his little sister had directed him too, his father was comatose. The man who had once been a stern and unbending figure towering over his childhood now lay in a hospital bed, small and withered. Cables snaked out from under his clothes and blankets, connecting to sad machines with flagging beeps.

“Papa?” He whispered from the doorway.

A woman he hadn’t noticed at first, his focus solely on the figure in the bed, turned abruptly, her eyes round with shock. “Taehyung?”

Taehyung hovered uncertainly, unsure of his welcome. He nodded once in response to her question. “It’s me, eomma.”

“What are you doing here?” She demanded and he shrank back, eyes locked on his only ally, his sister.

“Don’t be mad, Mama. I called him.” Eonjin said quietly. “He’s his son too. He deserves to say goodbye.” He’d missed her gentle strength and implacable will.

Then her smaller hand was in his, drawing him fully into the room to their father’s side.

“Papa.” He whispered again. “I... umm... I don’t know what to say. I know you probably didn’t ask for me to be here and wouldn’t want me here if you knew, but I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the shame I brought to you and our family. I’m sorry for not carrying on your legacy the way you wanted me to. I tried. I really did. But you were right. I was weak. I’ve always been weak. I always hoped one day you would forgive me. But I guess it’s too late now. But I hope that maybe there was a part of you that still loved me. Because I love you, Papa. I love you so m-much.” And then Eonjin was there again, her small hand squeezing his in support. Sniffing back his tears, he swiped his hand over his face and pressed a trembling kiss to his estranged father’s forehead.

Then he took the seat farthest from the bed, feeling like an intruder in his own family and joined them in their quiet vigil over his dying father.

A/N So Taehyung REALLY going through it and I'm afraid it's only going to get worse. But it's like a bone that set wrong, it needs to be rebroken before it can begin to heal right.

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