𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝟒 | fin.

jungkook - request

CRYSTAL TEARS

- in which the shiver-inducing obsidian of your thoughts and the doe-eyed boy with stars in his eyes and moonlight trapped in between his words forbid you from getting a proper sleep; sequel to CALM DOWN; requested by akfoodlover

Muffled air is all you can hear when your mum hangs up the phone, the sound so heavy and dense that it makes your head feel as if it's stuffed full with cotton and eyes feel as if you've scratched them dry with sandpaper, leaving your surroundings to look all hazy and distorted; the ringing that gradually begins to echo itself in your ears certainly no help in trying to gain control back over yourself.

You finally get a hold of your senses and lower the phone to the bed you sit on, letting it fall with a dull thud that sends an aching shiver down your spine and a lingering tremor through your body. It causes your breath to stick to your lungs like sap on a tree, clogging everything with thick mouthfuls of air that run down the edges of your lungs so that nothing can go in and nothing can come out.

Your hand, trembling a lot more than it was mere seconds ago, grabs onto the collar of the shirt you're wearing, eyes squeezing themselves shut as the pain doubles.

Warmth suddenly embraces you in the form a scent; sweet vanilla and honey. You breathe it in as if it's your oxygen, as if your whole life depends on it, and find your skin tingling in the same way it did a few hours ago, his touch a permanent mark on your flesh.

But then his touch begins to burn through your skin, melting and scalding it as if you've become the firewood to its scorching flame, the scent of his shirt now sickeningly sweet and mixing in with the copper tang of blood, gunshots ringing in your ears and making your head spin and stomach ache.

You want to scream, anything to pull you back to reality, but your lungs close in on themselves, entrapping you in this endless void of horrors.

Gathering up the miniscule fragments of strength of you have left, you snap your eyelids open, a tide of tears escaping onto your cheeks as you stare down at your balled up hands, feeling the sting of the cuts your nails made as your tears roll onto them.

With a shudder, you swallow down the lump of fear sitting in your throat and feel your heart stop once more when the door clicks open, a flustered yet concerned Jungkook sticking his head around it warily, barely missing the way you flinch at the noise.

"Sorry," he whispers, not really sure of why he's doing so but he guesses it's got something to do with the way the air surrounding you seems to resemble glass; fragile and sharp, "it's just me."

The remnants of a ghost smile hauntingly trace your lips as he scratches the back of his head in anxiousness, fear, confusion, worry—he can no longer tell.

"How'd the phone call go?" He tries, finally stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, proud when it doesn't even make a sound. You watch his movements, momentarily entranced by how carefreely he moves around his room, mouth dry until he sits himself down and urges you to speak with a small smile.

You nod. "I called them but I couldn't bring myself to tell them what happened. Instead, I told them that I'd be staying with a friend tonight because we lost track of time while studying. Sorry."

"Why are you apologising?" He mumbles, the dimples on his cheeks disappearing as he attempts to stifle his laugh. "There's nothing to be sorry about, it's a hard thing to talk about. I'm proud of you for actually calling your parents."

"Thanks," you smile, amazed that you weren't even aware of your lips curling upwards or the surge of warmth that re-energised you; back now straighter, head no longer heavy and you, miraculously now at ease. "How'd it go with your mum?"