Inspired by Chandelier by Sia. 

Taehyung was gone and Jungkook was a mess.

The pounding bass of whichever club Jungkook had stumbled into that night shook his entire body as he moved and grinded in the mass of bodies on the dancefloor. He couldn’t see straight anymore, the alcohol in his system blurring out half of the world around him, the drugs he inhaled into his lungs bringing the colours of the lights into sparkling flashes in his vision.

He couldn’t remember exactly how many drinks he had consumed and he couldn’t tell how long he had been dancing but he did know that he was around one drink away from forgetting his own name.

Good.

There was a girl giggling next to him, clinging to his arm. She brought her cherry red lips to his ear, whispering promises of fun and pleasure and suddenly Jungkook felt sick. He began to choke on the air in his lungs, shoving her hands off him and pushing his way out of the crowd, heading for the back door.

The air outside helped nothing as he collapsed to the ground outside, heaving up the contents of his stomach. His mind was focused on only the burning of his chest and the feeling of the wet tears streaking down his face.

A cry tore from his throat as he remembered, he remembered, and he lay alone on the dirty ground outside the club. He pulled himself up, crawling up till he was leaning against the wall and he cried, gross and loud sobs that echoed in the small alley.

“Hyung… what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“You know.. kissing a boy.”

A laugh and a box smile filled Jungkook’s head and the boy screamed aloud, punching the metal dumpster beside him. The pain and blood on his knuckles didn’t even register in his brain.

“Do you want to know? I can show you if you want.”

His lips had been soft but chapped from years of the same habit of them. He had tasted of those damn strawberry lollipops he had been so fond of and his hands that tangled through Jungkook’s hair made him feel safe and protected and loved.

“I love you a lot, you know that, Kookie?”

“I love you too, Tae.”

When he finally picked himself up and called a cab - or did someone else pick him up and call him a cab? - Jungkook had cried himself out, nothing but a hollow feeling left where he was sure his heart used to be.

He had left his light on, he realises as he practically fell into his own bed. His roommate, Jimin, peeked his head in cautiously and sighed, his expression morphing into one of sadness as he took in Jungkook’s drunken state.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Jimin shook his head, entering the room fully. He helped Jungkook change into sleep clothes, brushing all the hairspray from his hair. Without a word, he tucked the younger boy into bed, ignoring the tormented gasps of another’s name coming from Jungkook’s lips.

Taehyung.

Jimin made sure Jungkook was lying on his side, a pillow pressed against his back to ensure he didn’t choke on his own vomit before turning the light off and leaving.

Taehyung.

Jungkook could feel tears welling up again as he stared into the darkness of his room. His body ached and he could feel the familiar self hatred burning through his bones.

Taehyung.

He hadn’t drank enough, he hadn’t taken enough to forget, to be able to go to bed and not be able to remember all the misery and pain he felt.

Taehyung.

Taehyung.

Taehyung.

Taehyung was gone and Jungkook was mess.