Chapter Seven: Taehyung

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June 12th after the party

Rain trickled down the collar of his shirt and between his shoulder blades. Drops fell from his long bangs and splashed on his chin. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, grimacing at the pressure on his split lip.

Every part of his body hurt, but he ignored the pain. It was a part of him now; he couldn't remember a day in the past few weeks that he didn't hurt somewhere.

The streets were mostly empty in the late-night gloom, and he felt that emptiness inside himself. He was as blank as the boring concrete walls and wet sidewalks. He sometimes wondered if he should feel more. He remembered feeling things, not even that long ago, but the memories were softer on the edges now. Fading.

It was easier to be blank. He didn't have to feel things he'd rather not feel. He didn't have to deal with things that he could push down deep and lock away. Things like hatred, shame and desperation.

He kicked an empty can and sent it skittering along the sidewalk with a satisfying rattle. He thought about the fight between Jung-kook and Yoon-gi. Shit. Their words weren't even aimed at him and he could still feel the cut. It was unlike his friends to be so vicious toward one another. And Jin. He was so sure that they could save him, but it wasn't that simple. His life was what it was. His to bear; not theirs. He swallowed back the taste of beer and looked up at the cloudy sky. He used to think about things like "tomorrow" and "the future", but like his emotions those thoughts had dulled and faded. There was only now and later.

A stray dog, white fur smudged brown, ran past him, baring its teeth when he stopped to stare. He knelt, holding out his hand. The dog growled, but when he didn't move it crept closer to sniff his hand.

"It's okay," he said softly. The dog stared at him with distrustful brown eyes. "I understand." Kindness was hard to understand when all you knew was cruelty. He caressed the dog's head gently, and chuckled when it growled again before running off. "Yeah, me too," he muttered. He grunted as he straightened, the bruises on his back and chest making him wince.

His phone beeped and he took it from his pocket, glancing at the screen.

He's awake.

He stared at the text, trying to ignore the subtle trembling of his hand. He replied,

"I'm headed back."

She answered almost immediately,

"Don't."

He ignored it and stuffed the phone in his pocket. He walked toward the street he lived on, though he never called the place home anymore. There were a few lights on in the tall building, but he knew the fifth floor left would be aglow. His father slept all day, woke late at night and drank his way to dawn. The night held nothing but dread for them these days.

Mrs. Wu's trash was on the stoop again, so Tae picked it up and put it in the can. Her fat calico cat blinked at him sleepily, but didn't move.

"I envy you," he muttered to the cat, "spoiled fat cat."

He stood at the door to his apartment with his hand on the knob. His heart was beating hard. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders before turning the knob and opening the door, stepping over the threshold.

The apartment was small, but always tidy thanks to his sister. She worked hard at the clothing factory, sewing seams for twelve hours a day, but she always had a hot meal ready for him when he got home from school.

The apartment was dark now, except for the light on over his father's chair. The dim light cast shadows over his father's sharp cheekbones and hard, dark eyes.

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