“Dying is an art, like everything else.

I do it exceptionally well.” 

-Lady Lazarus, Sylvia Plath 

The sky is a pretty blue today. 

Red. Pouring through his fingertips like the softest silk. 

It’s warm too; the sun plays its beams along the ground and gently nudges the shadows out of the way. 

He hadn’t thought how warm it would be. It was an autopilot reaction really; it came as a bit of a shock when so much of it gushed out like water out of a drainage pipe after rain. 

A bustle of freesia blows its perfume through the air, chasing away the crispness of the wintertime. 

No matter how much he scrubbed and scrubbed and tore and screamed, he still couldn’t get rid of that tangy metallic scent. 

It smells like spring. 

He smelt like Death. 

~

He’s lying on his back in the middle of somewhere, on a mattress in an abandoned pool. 

It’s not as weird as it sounds; he’s been here so many times that he’s able to map out the cracks in the ground in his sleep. He’s able to memorise in exactly which place the mattress springs creak when he moves. 

It’s as familiar to him as his own body. 

And now there’s someone shaking him. Someone’s hand poking him in the side. Someone that asks him something that he wishes he could answer. 

‘What are you doing?’ It’s an amused tone, rather than a judgemental one, which he’s all too familiar with. 

He cracks open an eye to see a hand outstretched to him, one that he immediately takes hold of, one that’s warm, firm and feels like home. 

Namjoon is grinning, dimples curving in his cheeks as he hauls Taehyung up, slapping him on the back as he goes. 

‘Taehyung!’ cries a familiar voice somewhere to his right and he turns around to feel something hurtle into his body. 

‘Ow,’ he says reproachingly, untangling himself from the hug or tackle more like. ‘I thought we agreed on not sending me to the hospital.’ 

‘Sorry,’ grins the red-haired boy who doesn’t look the least bit sorry at all. ‘Jungkook-ssi told me to do it.’ 

Taehyung turns to glare at the younger boy who shrugs sheepishly. ‘You little punk. And you.’ He fixes his gaze on Jimin who shrinks back. ‘How dare you hurt my aesthetic.’ 

Hoseok snorts in response. ‘Yeah. Gorgeous.’ 

Taehyung wisely chooses to ignore this and gazes around at the faces of his friends. Namjoon and Yoongi are off talking to the side; Jimin and Jungkook are sitting on the mattress next to him. Hoseok is picking dandelions and blowing on the seeds. But there’s one missing. 

‘Where’s Seokjin-hyung?’ Taehyung is watching the little tufts of seeds float away and tries to catch one unsuccessfully. 

‘Oh, he’s over there doing his thing,’ motions Jungkook behind Taehyung who turns around. Sure enough, Seokjin is holding his camcorder, diligently filming the group with a smile on his face. It’s become a little project of his, documenting the lives of seven delinquent, carefree teenage boys. 

‘Hyung!’ Jungkook cups his hands around his mouth and yells. ‘Come and join us!’ 

Seokjin obediently shuts the camcorder, scrambling down the ladder and strolling across the length of the pool. ‘I was getting a good shot of you guys before you ruined it with your hollering Jungkook.’ 

‘Lay off hyung,’ grumbles the youngest, swatting at Seokjin’s arm. ‘Why’re you such a Negative Nancy nowadays?’ 

‘Because you’re annoying,’ interjects Jimin who ruffles Jungkook’s hair and earns himself a sour look. ‘But-‘ Jimin holds his hands up in defence and grins at Taehyung who arches an eyebrow ‘Not as much as this one.’ 

‘Says the one who follows Jungkook around like a lost puppy.’ Taehyung smirks at Jimin who shifts and opens his mouth to deny it with every bit of his tiny being. Thankfully, Hoseok interrupts. 

‘Oi, I came here to have fun. Not to watch a bunch of old ladies have at each other.’ Hoseok jumps to his feet and runs across the pool, pushing back with him an abandoned cart with a beam on his face. ‘Dibs first!’

‘Dibs second!’ chimes in Jimin and Hoseok leaps onto the cart with amazing dexterity, hollering loudly when Jimin grabs onto the handle and pushes it to the other end of the pool as if the hounds of hell were at his feet. 

Taehyung and Namjoon are next; the breath is stolen out of his lungs as Namjoon hurtles down the length of the pool, wind whistling through their hair and voices lost behind them. 

Seokjin only films Jungkook and Yoongi, because he claims they’re ‘..more aesthetically pleasing than the rest of your ugly mugs,’ earning himself a rather hefty slap from Namjoon and grumbles from Hoseok and Jimin.

Taehyung starts up a game of golf using a discarded water bottle and a yellow toy car he finds in his pocket. Namjoon makes it the furthest into the pool of murky water, and Taehyung watches in despair as his old toy drowns in the muck. The defeated players turn to ‘Maldupaki,’ and Jungkook manages to leap-frog over their bent bodies like an Olympic athlete and causes Yoongi to slam his head into Namjoon’s crotch. Revenge for his prized toy car,’  Taehyung thinks in glee as he jumps onto Hoseok’s back and they all fall over like dominoes. Namjoon is still groaning. 

The light slowly dies away as all days do; warm glow receding over the treetops and dusting the air with a soft, golden sheen. Everyone is dangling their legs over the side of the pool, chattering about everything and nothing and Taehyung wonders what it would be like without all seven of them together. The thought takes him to a ledge far above the others and he stands there, at eye level with the horizon, watching the sun duck behind a cloud. 

He’s always liked heights; there’s just something about the thought of being utterly free of the pull of reality and being able to see the divide between the sky and the ground. 

It’s the only time when Taehyung truly feels exhilarated, like he’s part of a world that exists only for him. 

Something flashes across his vision and he darts an eye to catch it. It’s flying drunkenly through the air, a beautiful dash of pure white that’s at odds with the graffiti of the pool. Seokjin-hyung would like to film it; he always liked those things. 

Taehyung leans down and calls to one of the six specks. ‘Hyung!’ 

Seokjin raises his head in response, looking quizzically up at him. Taehyung only beckons with his hand and points to the butterfly that’s dancing around his head. ‘Look!’ 

Seokjin doesn’t get it and clambers up onto the ledge with Taehyung, squinting at where his hand is pointing. ‘What is it?’ 

‘Right there.’ Taehyung jabs impatiently at where the butterfly is. ‘Can’t you see.’ 

‘What on earth are you blabbering on about?’ 

Tae huffs. ‘Look, you blind bat. The butterfly.’ 

‘What butterfly?’ 

Taehyung slowly turns to Seokjin who has a more than concerned look on his face. 

‘What?’

The elder boy places two hands on Taehyung’s shoulders and spins him around to face the ledge again and Taehyung’s stomach drops. 

‘But I swear it-‘ 

‘Tae,’ Seokjin’s voice is soft and sad. ‘You’re doing it again.’ 

‘Doing what?’ Taehyung’s voice is only a whisper as he watches the plastic bag drift silently down into the pool that’s as empty and quiet as a graveyard. 

‘Wake up,’ Seokjin murmurs. 

And he does.