HI KIDS IM ALIVE SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG :"DDDDD hopeflly ill be getting chapters out quicker now that im on summer vacation :"^)

follow me on twt i guess (@AutumnW1tch)

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Pain.

Hot, singing, searing pain.

Pain that ripples and destroys and crushes and leaves scars.

Pain that makes you feel as if you are floating.

Flying.
Levitating.

Miles above the ground, yet only a few feet away from the earth.

Pain that, in a sick mentality, could be described as a Euphoria. A pleasure.

Swinging.

He felt. As if he were swinging. Neck bent backwards and limbs splayed out in the air.

Light. Airy. Weightless.

And yet unbearably heavy. So heavy he couldn’t move even his eyelids.

 

The faint, wispy noise of a crash. Of glass breaking, people screaming, wheels screeching to a stop.

 

Blackness. He felt everything but saw nothing. An inky void that enveloped his vision, from the moment of the impact.

And yet, in the engulfing darkness, a light.

The world upside down, head twisted behind him, he saw the moon. A large, bright, definite form. An overlying constant in the never ending darkness.

It felt a part of him. His eyes were not open, but there it was. In his eyes, in his vision, all he could see, yet nothing he could see.

 

It felt like the moon was hanging upside down.

 

If the moon were to be upside down, would we be thrown into disarray?

Would the currents switch, volcanoes erupt? Would the world end? For what would we be without the moon?

 

The moon is a light. A shining of good hope. But it is also a sign of dark. That the night comes. The night, when all scary things happen. The moon keeps us safe. Keeps us company. It is a close friend to many, lover to others. The moon understands our pain. It feels that pain too. The moon is strong, for who of us would last being banished to the darkness, to ignite the night, to control our weather and influence our feelings.

 

If we were to live in a utopia, would we never have the night? Would we never be sad, never have to face the fear of the darkness of the night? Would we then lose the moon?

 

The moon is a friend. One that stays by our side. If she were to be upside down, would we, too, be thrown into a singing, searing pain? A pain that lasts as an only constant in our lives.

For some, it is unbearable. Feared, terrifying, unwanted.

For others, it is a pleasure.

 

A Euphoria.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jungkook jolted upwards in the bed, panting heavily, gulping in the air as if it had been forcefully knocked out of him. He sat there, feeling his heart race and allowing his screaming muscles to calm down.

 

“The realms of day and night, two different worlds coming from two opposite poles, mingled during this time.”

 

The sudden words from a familiar voice beside him woke Jungkook out of his daze. Looking over he saw a friendly face looking at him with only the slightest bit of concern. If anything, mostly amusement.

 

“W-what?” Jungkook asked, his voice barely above a confused whisper.

 

“Hm?”

 

“What were you... reading?”

 

“Oh, just a passage from this book. I was reading aloud before you woke up.” Namjoon said softly, not wanting to disturb Jungkook’s panicked state.

 

“How...t-the fountain. How did I get here, I was in the fountain room. I-I saw V. Where-what-” Jungkook stuttered, his mind racing a million miles an hour.

 

“Woah, woah there, buddy, calm down,” Namjoon cooed, offering his hand out to Jungkook’s shoulder. “Ask me one question at a time, okay?”

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

 

“How... how did I get here?”

“Here?”

“Th-this room. How did I get back here. I was in the fountain room, and... and I saw a-a weird door I hadn’t seen before. I opened it and... V was there.” Jungkook finished, staring up at Namjoon with big, curious eyes.

 

“What door?” Namjoon asked. “V said he found you passed out in the fountain room in front of the garden. He brought you here as quickly as he found you. It was actually kind of funny, he was panicking so much and was worried that you’d died and-”

 

“V brought me here?” Jungkook interjected.

 

Namjoon shrugged. “Yeah. Carried you in, bridal style and everything.”

 

Jungkook looked down, trying to go over the previous night’s events, but also trying to hide the blush creeping upon his face after hearing that V had carried him in such a sensual way. He dismissed it as a spur of the moment thing, but the thought lingered. I mean, that’s normally what you’d do if your friend passed out, right?

 

“Where...where is he now?” Jungkook looked back to Namjoon.

 

“I dunno. Do you want to go find him? 10,000 won says he’s still in the garden.”

 

Jungkook nodded a little bit, not knowing entirely what Namjoon was referring to but trusting him anyways.

 

“Are you okay to walk?” Namjoon asked, hands on his knees looking over and inspecting Jungkook.

 

“Um..y-yeah I’m fine. Thanks.”

 

Jungkook was not entirely fine as evident by him falling over 3 times in the process of getting up off the bed.

As Namjoon carried him, arm around his shoulders, down the halls to the garden, strength slowly regaining but not completely back yet, Jungkook wondered: “ is money even a thing here?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Namjoon describing V as “panicking” and “freaking out” was pretty accurate, judging by how he screamed and dropped his metal watering can when Jungkook called out to him in the garden.

 

As Namjoon had said, there was a garden branching off of the large fountain room. Apparently that was where V spent a lot of his down time, caring for the foliage and talking to it if he were bored.

 

“He’s made friends with almost all the plants. The smeraldos, he has trouble with, he says. He says he just can’t figure out why they won’t talk to him like the rest of them do.”

 

The way V’s eyes widened was comical upon seeing Jungkook awake and walking...sort of….concern clearly lacing his features as he ran over to Jungkook, cupping his face in his hands and looking him over like a worried mother.

 

“Oh my gosh oh my gosh are you okay? I was so worried when you just passed out! I-I didn’t know what happened, I was just tending to the garden and then you came in and you just fell! I panicked and screamed and oh my goodness I’m so sorry are you okay? Do you need medicine? Are you sure you’re okay to walk around and you need rest and-”

 

As soothing as it was to hear V’s deep, soothing voice rambling on, Jungkook stopped him short for fear of V running himself into a ditch of words.

 

“I’m. Okay.” Jungkook said flatly.

 

V had completely frozen, looking around at Jungkook’s face with wide eyes. He swallowed.

 

“Okay...okay, okay…” he whispered, and then sighed. The intangible weight seeming nearly visible as it left his shoulders.

 

“You’re okay...oohhhh thank goodness you’re okay. I was, so worried you’d...you’d died or something.”

 

“ Again ” Jungkook whispered under his breath.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay, though?” V piped up again. “Do you need anything to drink? I-I can try and brew you something with the herbs from the garden-”

 

“That might actually kill him,” Namjoon interjected this time.

 

V’s face dropped like a puppy.

 

“BUT-!”

 

“ V. ” Jungkook whispered. “ I’m okay. Thank you.”

 

V exhaled. “O kaaaaaaayy…”

 

“Um...How...what...happened? Last night.” Jungkook asked.

 

“Well, what do you mean?” V countered. “Or...what do you remember I guess?”

 

“I remember...walking to the fountain room, and...seeing a door. That I hadn’t seen before. And I opened it and..it was all dark. And the floor was like water. And I saw you, and then…...I out.”

 

Both V and Namjoon paused, looked at each other, then looked back at Jungkook.

 

“What?” he asked, not liking their reactions. “Is that...not what happened?”

 

“I mean...it could be.” Namjoon said with a shrug.

 

“Well what I remember,” V started, “was I was sitting in the garden, tending to the flowers, finishing up my late night pruning, when I heard you call my name. I turned around, and bam you went out like a light.”

 

“The garden house gets pretty dark at night,” Namjoon offered.

 

“Yeah,” V agreed, “and the floor is an extremely shallow bed of water. It’s how I water the plants efficiently. That’s probably what you saw.”

 

Looking behind V, Jungkook could see that even in the early (?) morning light the garden was dark. And, yup, as he said, the floor was like a small channel, used for watering the plants. Maybe also for aesthetic purposes. Who knows. The water flowed from a tiny fountain built into the floor in the middle of the room.

 

Jungkook nodded, accepting that this was the probably the correct explanation, but then a thought hit him.

 

The door.

 

He rushed out of the garden, back into the fountain room and took a long look at the door he’d just gone through.

 

“What’s wrong?” V asked, concerned.

 

Jungkook shook his head.

 

“ ‘S not the door.” he whispered.

 

“What?” V said, voice a little louder than normal.

“This isn’t the same door I went through last night.” he said.

 

The door last night was old, wooden. Chipped and decaying. Vines and weeds weaving through it. It looked like, well, the entrance to a garden.

 

The doors leading to all the rooms branching out of the large fountain room were metal. Heavy and black, window panes in between the metal bars. It looked a bit more modern.

 

Jungkook shook his head and backed away.

 

“I-I don’t understand, I went through a different door.”

 

“Are you sure you did?” V inquired, circling around Jungkook. “You sure you didn’t like, dream it up or anything?”

 

Jungkook shook his head again. “No, no,” he said, remembering that the door he went through had been in between to of these large black metal ones.

He looked around, but there were no old white wooden doors anywhere.

 

“It’s not here,” he said. “It-it’s not here.”

 

“What isn’t?”

“The door, the, the one I went through and saw you in last night.” Jungkook said, voice speeding up. “White, it, it was white and-and wooden and the paint was chipping and there were vines growing everywhere, and”

Jungkook looked behind him.

“And the fountain was on!” he shouted.

 

It was turned off again. Decaying and looking like it hadn’t been used in years, like it wouldn’t work ever again.

 

Jungkook turned back to face Namjoon and V, panting a bit.

 

The two of them looked at each other, exchanging silent words.

 

“Jungkook are you...sure...you’re okay?” V asked in a condescending tone as he turned back to Jungkook.

 

“Yes.” Jungkook said quite firmly. “I’m fine.”

 

“Are you sure you didn’t dream any of this up?” V said softly.

 

Jungkook paused for a moment.

 

“This whole damn thing has felt like a nightmare.” he whispered quietly.

 

V nodded, and placed his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders. “Look, Kookie, I think you need some rest-”

 

“I’m fine!” Jungkook shouted, pushing V’s hands off of him. “I’m..I’m fine. I’m okay.” Jungkook breathed out. “I’m okay.”

 

V pressed his lips into a tight line, and nodded his head. “Okay.” he said. “Okay.”

 

“I’m-I’m sorry” Jungkook apologized. “I’m gonna go...walk around for a bit. Clear my head.”

 

“Okay.” V said lowly, turning back and walking back into the garden house.

 

As Jungkook ran down the halls, as far away from the fountain as he could muster, something clicked.

 

He never called out V’s name last night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jungkook couldn’t tell how long he’d spent just walking around the museum. Admiring the art, trying to read the plaques (except there were none, so it was more trying to find the plaques), running into Jimin a few times who had wanted to talk but then running away because Yoongi always found a way to pop up behind him (which utterly terrified Jungkook every time); Purposely avoiding Hoseok, who always seemed to be around every corner Jungkook turned, until now, where he was sitting in one of the gallery rooms with Jin, of whom was still snapping away at the installments with his camera.

 

“Anything new?” Jungkook asked, sitting against the marble base of a headless sculpture.

 

“Nope.” Jin sighed as he looked down at the photo still developing, shaking it in the air. When it fully developed, as usual, it came out with unbridled results. Jin stared at the image with a disappointing pout. “I really don’t know what I should be expecting, but I can’t help but feel...disappointed whenever I get, well, nothing.” he said as he turned to Jungkook.

 

Jungkook thought for a moment. “Maybe you’re just not taking photos of the right things?”

 

“That could be…” Jin said, looking down in thought. “This place is pretty big...seems almost endless. Could take me ages to take photos ofeverything in here, but…”

 

“It’d be worth it?” Jungkook interjected.

 

“It’d be worth it.” Jin repeated.

 

The two sat in silence for a few moments, and right as Jin was about to return to his activity, a frantic pair of footsteps brought a panting V into the room.

 

“Hey- hey guys,” he spat out, catching his breath. “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

 

Following V up to a long, narrow hallway, the one Jungkook recognized as being the one where he first met Jimin and Yoongi, the three from the gallery met up with the other four, who were now standing in front of an unfamiliar door.

 

“I think it’s a new room!” V had explained to Jungkook and Jin as they were running through the halls.

 

“New room? You sure it’s not just a newly opened door?” Jungkook had asked.

 

“Nope! It just - wasn’t there before at all!”

 

Walking up to it, the doors seemed quite simple. Sleek and metal but with tinted windows that didn’t allow sight into the room itself. A lot of doors had windows like that in this museum, Jungkook had noticed.

 

V smiled at him widely before pushing the doors open.

 

It was dark, with an old wooden floor. The first thing noticeable being a large window that seemed to take up a whole wall on the opposite side of the room. It led off into an unending darkness.

A hospital bed took up another wall, a nightstand beside it with matches and pencils resting on it and various painting and art supplies were strewn about. Polaroids and sketches dangled from wires hung around the room. An old and decaying couch rested on the wall besides the window, a dead tree sprouting from behind it.

Animal skulls rested on the walls, cows and deer and even a ram’s. It was eerie...yet felt enticing.

 

Jungkook hadn’t even noticed that he had walked into the room to admire it until he looked out through the door to see the others staring at him.

 

He felt a bit antsy.

“...what?” he asked.

 

V just smiled.

 

“I think we found your room.” he said proudly.

 

“My...my room?” Jungkook pointed to himself, disbelieving this room was his.

 

“Yes, yours.” V clapped his hands in excitement. He then looked as if he remembered something, and turned to the others next to him. “See, I told you! New rooms do appear when new people show up. Same thing happened with Jin!”

 

“Alright, alright,” Namjoon said, waving his hands dismissively. “You were right, I suppose.”

 

V squealed and jumped in victory, like a child who just won a prize.

“Haha! I was right.”

 

V continued to repeat the sentence to himself like a mantra, dancing his way away from the room and down the hall, to return to whatever activity he was doing before.

 

“U-um…” Jimin spoke meekly. “Could…..would someone mind describing the room to me?”

His grip on Yoongi’s arm tightened, looking unsure of himself.

 

“Oh, um, of course.” Jungkook replied. “It’s uh...it’s got a wooden floor.”

 

“M-hm.”

 

“There’s a large...window? Is that a window? On the opposite side of the room. It’s like a whole wall is missing.” Jungkook was pointing to each thing he listed out, though stopped as soon as he remembered that it was kind of pointless.

 

“Like, the whole wall is gone?”

 

“Yeah,”

 

“That’s weird.”

“I know, right? There’s um...there’s a hospital bed, and-”

 

“A hospital bed? Oh there’s a few in my room, too!”

 

“Really?” Jungkook asked, shocked. How would he even know-

 

“Yeah! A couple, actually. My room is strange, it’s all watery but there’s hospital beds? It’s super weird.”

 

“Weird…” Jungkook repeated.

 

“I know, right!” Jimin exclaimed.

He then turned over to Yoongi, giving a confused expression. “..What? No, no it’s okay you can leave. I want to stay here. What - no! I’m fine.”

 

Jungkook looked at Jimin with a questioning gaze, raising his eyebrows. “Is...what’s..he saying?” he asked.

 

Jimin looked back to Jungkook. “Oh, he’s just saying he wants to leave.”

 

Saying?

Jungkook then noticed that everyone else had quietly left the room, and now it seemed Yoongi wanted to leave too, but Jimin wanted to stay.

 

“Yoongi, if you want to leave you can. You have two legs, you can walk on your own!” Jimin continued arguing. “Let me stay! I want to talk to Jungkook.”

 

Yoongi stood for a few more moments, slowly turning to give Jungkook what he assumed was a death stare, before turning and walking out with the slightest hint of childish stomping. The most emotion, Jungkook decided, he could muster in whatever state he was in.

 

Jimin sighed, hands on his hips like a tired mother. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “He can get like that sometimes. I get that he’s worried about me and can be a little bit possessive sometimes, but I can do things on my own! The way he watches over me like a hawk can get annoying, you know?” he finished, pointing in front of him.

 

It took Jungkook a lot to not laugh at Jimin, who was currently pointing to the wall behind him instead of where Jungkook actually was. He slowly stepped in front of Jimin so as to not embarrass or confuse him.

 

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” he answered.

 

“Besides,” Jimin said, “I trust you! I trust you to...not let me walk into things and knock them, or fall out of that window or whatever. This room is new to me.”

 

He then waddled over to Jungkook and whispered to him, as if Yoongi were right outside the room (which he probably was, honestly.)

 

“Don’t let Yoongi know this, but when he’s asleep or off in his own room, I spend my time walking around, trying to memorize the layout of the museum.” he whispered.

 

“Oh, wow” Jungkook said, surprised. “That’s pretty brave of you.”

 

“I know,” Jimin giggled. “It can be hard sometimes, but it’s fun!”

The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon just like that, sitting in Jungkook’s room and talking. At first it was Jungkook describing the to Jimin the best he could what the room looked like, and conspiring at what it’s layout might have meant. According to Jimin, the personal rooms, (at least as V had said they were) reflected who you were in life and how you died.

 

“I’m pretty sure I drowned,” Jimin had said. “There’s a ton of fountains and bathtubs and the floor is covered in water.”

 

“Maybe you just choked on a cup of water.” Jungkook joked.

 

Even though Jimin was wearing a ribbon around his head, Jungkook could still see the way his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Still counts as drowning” he said matter-of-factly.

 

“Not necessarily,” Jungkook fired back.

 

After that, the conversation turned to learning more about each other. Telling childhood stories, any bits and piece they could remember from their lives, and positively falling over into a fit of giggles at every stupid joke made, which often resulted in both boys wheezing, and Jimin having trouble to get back up.

 

Jimin was a dancer when he was alive.

“It was mostly contemporative, but I did enjoy doing a bit of hip hop here and then. Wasn’t much for interpretive dance,  though.” he told Jungkook.

 

“A dancer? That’s cool” Jungkook said. “I always wanted to sing, but I was too shy.”

 

“Will you sing for me now?” Jimin asked a little hopeful.

 

“Oh, no, I-I can’t,” Jungkook refused, shaking his head. “I’m no good.”

 

“Pleeeeaaasee?”

 

“Noooo, I’m bad at it. I don’t get to sing often, so my voice is really out of shape.”

 

“Just a little bit for me? Please? ” Jimin pleaded, holding his hands together against his chest.

 

Jungkook let out a defeated sigh, and after collecting himself for a few moments, began to whistle.

 

Jimin pouted. “That’s whistling, not singing.”

 

“Do you want me to sing or not?” Jungkook fired back.

 

“Okay, okay, sing -er, whistle away.”

 

Jungkook whistled for a few beats more, a soft but mellow tune coming out. He then started singing, softly but gradually getting louder, fabricating a song that just came to his head. The notes echoing over the room, unspoken words hiding between the lyrics Jungkook sang.

Jimin went deathly silent and Jungkook worried he might have just shocked him that much with his awful singing.

 

Well, in a way, that was right.

 

He quietly slowed down and stopped, opening his eyes hesitantly. They had been closed while he was singing.

 

Jungkook looked up at Jimin, afraid of his reaction.

 

Jimin was kneeling where they’d been sitting, leaning in towards Jungkook. Mouth hanging agape and eyebrows raised. If he wasn’t wearing the ribbon, Jungkook would guess his eyes were open wide in surprise right now.

 

He gulped.

“Um...I-I told you it was bad..” he said meekly.

 

Jimin snapped out of his daze and frantically waved his hands around.

“Wh-what! No, no no it was great! I was just shocked is all!” he reassured. “Shocked by how good it was! I figured you’d be good but I wasn’t expecting that good!”

 

“You were expecting me to be bad?” Jungkook said smugly.

 

“No, no no no!” Jimin practically screamed.

 

Jungkook giggled. “I know, I know, I’m just teasing. But….thanks. I’ve always been too scared to sing in front of people. Glad to know I have some talent.”

 

“ SOME TAL- Are you kidding me? You’re amazing!”

 

Jungkook blushed. “Heh, thanks…” he said, tips of his ears turning a bit red. Not that Jimin could see, anyways.

 

The room filled with an awkward silence, neither party knowing what to say. Jungkook’s curiosity was burning him, and soon enough he decided to let it out.

 

“Um, so...about you and Yoongi.”

 

Jungkook could see the way Jimin tensed. He expected that.

 

“O-oh, if you’re not okay with talking about it, that’s okay-!” he started.

 

“No, no,” Jimin waved him off, “I figured your questions would be coming soon enough.”

He sighed.

 

“Why’s he so…. that?” Jungkook asked.

 

Jimin giggled, but only for a short second. “He’s just shy,” he said. “He’s always been really shy. And he’s a little... overprotective is all. I mean, anyone would be if they were trapped in a weird art museum in a different dimension with their blind boyfriend.”

 

Jungkook blinked. “So you guys are dating?”

 

Jimin’s eyes narrowed in an annoyed manner. “What..does it seem like we aren’t ? He clings on to me like a koala and I give him hugs and little kisses all the time.”

 

Jungkook put on an surprised expression. “Oh.” he said. “Must’ve missed the kisses…”

 

Jimin waved him off. “It’s okay, it does kind of seem like he’s a…”

 

“Doll?”

“Yeah, a doll. A doll that just follows me around and makes sure I don’t hurt myself.”

 

“Huh...well when you put it that way he seems more like a guide dog.” Jungkook chuckled.

 

Jimin’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Yup. And I love him. He’s really talkative once you get him to open up to you.”

 

Jungkook paused, pondering the thought. “Really?”

“Oh yeah, he’s talking to me all the time. We have lovely conversations,” Jimin then snickered, and Jungkook could only wonder what kinds ofconversations the two have.

 

Probably gross couple stuff.

 

“I’ve never heard him talk,” Jungkook started, “granted I’ve only been here for a short while, but still. I was beginning to think he couldn’t talk at all.”

 

Jimin couldn’t hide his surprise at that. “Really? You didn’t hear him speaking earlier? I mean I know he’s just shy and all but he’s a bit more talkative around you than he is with the others. He opened up about you surprisingly fast.”

 

“What? Does he really talk around me? I haven’t heard him say a thing. Are you sure you two don’t like….speak telepathically or something?” Jungkook asked.

 

Jimin raised his finger and paused.

 

“Y’know that makes sense because the others say the haven’t heard him speak, either. And I know he’s actually speaking and that I’m not crazy or anything because he reacts to what he says. Although V and Hoseok say they can hear him so that just leaves me even more confused.”

 

Jungkook thought for a few moments, then remembered what Jin had said before.

“Do you think…” he started, Jimin looking at him, waiting for him to continue. “Jin said that V told him that if we’re here for an extended period of time, we kind of...like gain new powers or whatever? That-that’s a dumb way to put it but that’s the simplest I can say it. Do you think...that’s what Yoongi’s weird ability is? That he can speak to you two telepathically?”

 

Jimin stopped for a bit. “..Maybe.” he said slowly. “I’m not sure, but, I guess that’s a good explanation for it...Yeah, sure, we’ll go with that for now.”

 

“Though that leaves the question, how come V and Hoseok hear him?”  Jungkook asked.

 

Jimin contemplated for a moment. “Well, V kind of seems to know the most about this place, seeing as he’s constantly searching every nook and cranny of it, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he has telepathic abilities or whatever. He does claim to talk to the garden plants, after all.”

 

Jungkook nodded. “Makes sense.”

 

“Hoseok, though…” Jimin trailed off.

 

“What about him?”

 

“I’m just...I dunno, I’m not sure. The thought of him being able to hear Yoongi and no one else doesn’t sit with me well.”

 

Jungkook scooted closer. “Why?”

 

“I’m not...the fondest of him.” he replied.

 

“....why?” Jungkook repeated.

 

Jimin sighed. “I just...I just get a bad vibe from him, is all. You know that feeling? Where you don’t have a reason to not like someone but you justdo? That’s what I get from Hoseok. I just….just don’t like him.”

 

Jungkook hummed. “Well, not everyone’s going to get along with everyone. Especially when you’re trapped in a strange alternate realm with strangers.”

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right..” Jimin said.

 

“Maybe you two weren’t on good terms when you were alive?” Jungkook offered.

 

Jimin shrugged. “I guess so. Certainly serves an explanation.”

 

The two sat in silence for a bit more, neither saying anything, until Jungkook spoke up, curiosity lacing his words.

 

“Do you...know….how Yoongi died?”

 

Jimin looked at him.

 

“Could...that...provide explanation for why he doesn’t speak?”

 

Jimin let out a breath and shifted his position on the floor.

 

“I don’t know,” he said simply. “I doubt he’d ever let any of you guys into his room, but, the way he described it to me was..strange.”

 

“Strange?” Jungkook asked.

 

“Yeah. He said something about like, that it looks like a forest. And that..there’s a few broken pianos scattered about. That’s...all he really said about it.”

 

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

 

“...Maybe he ate some kind of weird mushroom or plant, and died from it?”

 

Jimin gave him an annoyed look again.

 

“I don’t think my awesome boyfriend would have gone out in such a stupid way.” He said flatly.

 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook shrugged, “people die in the dumbest of ways all the time.”

 

Before the conversation could continue much further, V came barrelling in to the room, excited to announce that dinner was ready.

Yoongi appeared right behind him, looking like a stern mother come to collect their troublesome child. Jungkook wondered if he’d stood outside the room the whole time, how much he’d heard of the conversation. He hoped Yoongi heard nothing, but judging by the look Yoongi gave him as he walked out of the room, Jungkook guessed he heard quite a bit of the conversation, if not all.

Jungkook mentally slapped himself. He really should have expected this.

 

The dinner was good (Jungkook could actually taste it this time) and all seven returned to their rooms for the night. Jungkook was scared but somewhat excited to sleep in his new room. Excited because, hey, it’s a new room just for you and all about you. That’s cool, right? But scared because, if it’s supposed to be related to his death, who knows what else the room holds? What silent screams and deep secrets it knows?

 

Plus the room was just a tad bit creepy anyways.

 

Jungkook sunk down onto the hospital bed, ready for sleep to take him but terrified of where it might lead him.

Curling into the thin sheets of the bed, he couldn’t help the speed at which his mind wandered.

Sleep came to collect him soon enough.

 

He was right to be scared.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Darkness.

An old friend.

One that’s always there. Always in the absence of light. Always in the darkest corners of our minds.

It’s a friend. It can be comforting.
Other times it’s a demon. A symbol of the unknown. A nightmare.

 

Jungkook found himself in darkness quite often. Found himself having nightmares quite often.

 

Tonight was no different.

 

In the pool of darkness, one might need a light to guide their way. Light comes in many forms, most often in fire. Sometimes, if not handled and controlled correctly, it can be too much. The fire can be let loose. Unprotected, ravenous, raging through the night. Destroying everything in its path, leaving destruction and trauma instead of the warmth and comfort it was meant to hold.

 

Flames, at his bones as he slowly burned away. Wanting to scream but throat shut off. Wanting to run but unable to move. Wanting to close his eyes but unable to look away from the sleek ivory, burning and melting but leaving not a scratch. Wanting to close his ears and be engulfed in the silence, but unable to shut out the haunting melody that played from the piano’s strings. A tune he felt he knew but couldn’t place. Wanted to say it was on the tip of his tongue, but, that had been long since burned off at this point. Useless.

 

He wanted it to end. Wanted to feel the sweet release from this pain. Quick and efficient, rather than this slow burning. He hadn’t expected it to come in form of a one ton giant of steel, a heavy body slamming into both entities. The screeching of tires, shattering of glass, denting of metal. A machine built for transportation and protection, but when used incorrectly, leaves only death in its wake.

He laughed.

It reminded him of the fire.

 

He felt as if time rewinded itself. His eyes opening to the moments before the impact. He was no longer in the fire. He was in the street. He remembered now. Remembered the laughs, and the insults. The punching and the kicking and that pain oh god the pain. This night was one only filled with pain. He envied those who went out painlessly, quickly. Yet this, he brought this scene upon himself. Wanting to escape the emotional and mental pain, going so far as to replace it with the physical one. The thugs got creeped out when he started laughing. And laughing, and laughing, and laughing and laughing and laughing and laugh

 

What’s so funny? They asked. Everything, he said. How funny it was that this is where his life led up to. Being beaten down by the world, everything he loved taken away from him. To the point that he needs to be physically destroyed to feel pleasure. To feel happy. To escape his demons. How funny it was that these street thugs would be the last ones to see him alive.

He knew he’d die later that night.

He’d made his decision as one of the men was bashing his face against the closed shutter of the street shop, it’s vibrant graffiti art glaring back at him, a grim reminder that some people out there. Can enjoy what they have .

Oh how he envied them.

 

He opened his eyes. He was alone again. Alone in the void, covered in bruises and scratches and blood. Lying against the cold metal of that closed shutter. A dim light shining on him. The only thing that existed in that dream void. Just him, the closed shutter, and

 

... birds?

 

His vision clouded, hazy. He swore he saw the feathers of a bird.

He looked down.

A trail beneath him. From his own blood, or from the graffiti spray paint behind him, he couldn’t tell.

Sharp, vibrant almost blinding colors trailing, winding pooling scraping streaking across the ground, a long trail leading. Leading leading leading to somewhere. Anywhere.

 

That anywhere was a painting. A dripping, unfinished haunting painting.

 

A painting of a bird.

 

Of what bird, he couldn’t tell. It could have been something serene, like a dove. Calm and comforting, an olive branch in a time of suffering.

 

Or it could have been a vulture. Ravenous and waiting, patient, ready to pick pick pick him apart, piece by piece.

Who are you?

 

The dove, or the vulture?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jungkook awoke with a start, pushing himself off the bed forcefully. He was panting, heaving. Throat dry, the taste of ash faintly lingering on his tongue. His eyes watered. Blinkling furiously, he jumped out of bed, running across the room. He stopped when his foot crunched against something. The sound of paper crinkling. He looked down.

 

There was a letter at his feet.

 

Jungkook picked it up hesitantly, his hands shaking. His heart still hadn’t calmed down from the nightmare, its pace only seeming to heighten at the sight of the odd paper. There was no name on it. No indication of to whom or from...

He opened it slowly.

 

Inside was a battered piece of old paper. A small painting of a man’s face. He didn’t recognize who it was, but he had the nagging feeling that he’d seen them somewhere before.

 

The man’s deep eyes, piercing into him.  Charcoal pencil hastily scratched in the shape of a face. A simple sketch yet ever so haunting. Expression unreadable. Was he in pain? Or bliss? Was he disappointed? Or excited?

A flower, blooming from his right eye. What kind of flower, he couldn’t say. The bright paints of the petals dripping down the edges of the paper. It looked fresh.

 

Jungkook panicked. He quickly discarded the letter behind him, hoping it would erase his fears. He looked up at the easel on the opposite side of the room.

His hand twitched. It suddenly felt... empty.

Jungkook quickly walked over and picked up the paint brush resting on the easel’s bars, dipping it into a can. He didn’t see what color.

 

He just... started painting. Scribbling and flicking his wrists, eyes in a daze and not fully concentrating on the piece.

He thought back to the odd letter.

He thought of the man.

He wondered what he looked like. Who was he? What was he feeling? Why was Jungkook given his letter? Why was there a flower coming out of him? What kind of flower was it?

 

What did he look like without the flower?

 

Before Jungkook could fully realize it, he was done with his painting. He dropped his brush, looking up at it. His eyes widening in fear.

It was a man he couldn’t recognize. Drawn hastily, expression unreadable. Vibrant colors dripping down the sides.

Fresh.

 

Jungkook stepped back, fear completely filling his being. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. He wanted to leave.

 

Thunder crackled. He screamed, jolting in surprised and nearly falling over.

Rain poured down beside him, spilling into the room due to the completely missing wall. The breeze cold and windy.

 

His breath quickened. He was terrified. He looked back at the painting for a moment.

That was a mistake.

 

It was looking right back at him.

 

The sudden flutter of wings broke Jungkook out of his daze. He looked out the window.

 

A flock of birds. Tens, hundreds, it seemed like thousands.

Tons and tons of birds.

 

Doves, he noted.

 

Hundreds of feathers, fluttering and flapping together. Their frantic cooing mingling together to one, fearful sound. Out. Away. Escaping.

Afraid.

 

Of something.

 

Jungkook stared in confusion, before a faint noise struck the back of his mind.

The pluck of piano strings remained. A haunting tune.

But it wasn’t in his head

It was distant. Real. Somewhere in this world.

 

Jungkook looked around him, searching for something, anything to be of use. He spotted the matches on his nightstand.

He quickly ran over, his palms sweaty and flailing around, struggling to light the match. It took him a minute, but he managed to light it.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned around and threw it onto the painting.

 

It immediately combust into a fit of flames, the sulfur of the match mixing and sparking with the oil paints. It let off terrible fumes, but yet remained an undertone of sweetness.

 

The scent calmed Jungkook.

 

That only scared him more.

 

He watched as the canvas slowly melted and burned away, the image of the man only becoming distorted and more horrifying. He looked to be in pain, as his features turned to ash.

He looked vengeful.

The sight tugged at Jungkook’s gut, it didn’t sit with him well.

 

He stepped back, sitting himself down on the bed. His mind in a daze as he tried to process the events.

There was definitely something here.

Something that was out for him.

 

Jungkook let his eyes wander, taking him down to the foot of the bed.

 

The letter sat there, undisturbed by the flames.

 

He picked it up, and turned it over, hoping to see the man’s face one last time.

 

He gasped and dropped the letter.

 

The man was gone.

 

In its place, the bird painting he saw in his nightmare was scribbled on the paper.

 

Dark charcoal hastily scribbled on tattered paper.

Deep paint splattered over its figure.

 

It dripped down the sides of the letter.

Fresh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jungkook ran so far he couldn’t tell where he was going nor cared about the pain in his legs and chest He just wanted to get away from it. It? He didn’t know. Just, away.

He ran until his adrenaline rush finally faded, giving himself the benefit of the doubt that he was far away from whatever went on it in his room. Yet at the same time, the museum was so large and maze like, he was afraid if he turned the next corner he’d just end up right back in front of his room again.

 

Finally slowing down and panting, he sighed with glee at the now familiar sight of the gallery room he first woke up in. He slowly trudged his way in, taking a moment to admire a sculpture, before noticing another body in there with him.

 

Namjoon sat one of the sculptures - a globe with its base designed like a bench - reading from a book - the one Jungkook recognized as the one he’d been reading yesterday.

 

He slowly crept up to Namjoon, feet clacking against the marble floors.

 

“H-hey, Namjoon. What are you..doing up so early?” he asked.

 

“Oh, just reading,” Namjoon replied, gaze still cast at the words on the page.

 

Jungkook cocked an eyebrow. Though he didn’t really know the time, he had a sense that it was the ungodly hours of early morning.

 

“Why are you reading at like... 4am-” he started, but Namjoon shushed him, cutting his words off.

 

Jungkook blinked. “Uh... okay? What um... what are you even reading?”

 

“Demian.” Namjoon replied, nonchalantly.

 

“De-de-what now?”

 

“Demian.”

 

Jungkook sat himself down on the bench, next to Namjoon and looking over his shoulder at the page. It was in English.

 

“Namjoon can you... can you read English?” Jungkook asked.

 

“Yup.” Namjoon said, still not meeting his gaze.

 

“Wow that’s... that’s cool.”

 

Silence.

“A-anyways, what’s the book about?”

 

“It’s a book about a German man named Sinclair who meets another man named Demian, hence the title. It’s a sort of... coming of age story. Really what set the bildungsroman genre.”

 

“Huh...Cool.” Jungkook nodded, pretending to understand what Namjoon just said. “What’s uh...this chapter about?”

 

Namjoon finally lifted his eyes off the page, making eye contact with Jungkook. He smirked a little, showing off his dimples, before looking down at the page, and pointing at one of the sentences.

 

“This scene is later on. Sinclair has been going through a lot of troubles as an adult and has started painting in his free time. He finds it very odd, though. He keeps painting the same woman over and over again, but he doesn’t know who she is. He can’t recognize her, even though he feels like he’s seen her before.”

 

Jungkook’s eyes widened in fear.

 

“What...does he do about it?”

 

“Well, eventually he realizes he’s in love with the woman in his paintings,” Namjoon said, turning to look back at Jungkook.

 

Jungkook didn’t meet his gaze, instead he stared at the foreign words on the paper, arms shaking. He gulped. He knew the words held some kind of truth. Truth to whatever he had just witnessed.

 

“I..I see.” he croaked out, swallowing again.

 

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey - Jungkook, are you okay?”

 

Jungkook breathed out, sight still focused on the book.

“Y-yeah. I’m-I’m fine. I’m okay.”

His shoulders started shaking intensely.

“...” he breathed out.

 

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?” Namjoon asked, seriously worried.

 

Jungkook suddenly jolted up.

“I gotta go.” he said, eyes flitting around the room.

 

“What?”

 

“I-I gotta go. I forgot something.” he said, before sprinting out of the room.

 

Jungkook pushed through the fatigue and forced his legs to carry him back to his room, the place he’d just ran away from in pure fear. The fear returned, oh it sure did, even worse this time. But he had to. He just had to see.

 

He knew something had changed with the painting.

Probably with the room itself.

 

Jungkook burst into the room, slamming the metal door open. He heaved, eyes scanning.

He gaze flickered towards the corner, where the easel had originally been.

 

It was gone.

 

The wooden structure, the paints, the brush, the canvas itself. Gone.

 

Its ashes and melted remains.

 

Completely gone.

 

In its place, another letter, the receiver's name completely unreadable.

 

Jungkook wanted to vomit, his legs shaking violently, before they caved and he sunk to the floor.

 

What frightened him most, was that he could no longer remember the face of the man in the painting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jungkook wandered. Every part of him wandered, like a traveler trapped in a desert. His eyes clouded in mist, searching the halls, even though he saw nothing. The letter being the large subject occupying his brain. Questioning where it came from and to whom it was supposed to go to.

Questioning why he decided to pick it up and stuff it into his pocket.

His mind wandered, speeding at millions of lightyears a second, brushing and winding so fast he thought he might give himself a headache. That was only one of many thoughts he’d had within the last minute.

His legs carried him, they too wandering aimlessly, leading him somewhere but going nowhere.

 

His whole body was on autopilot. An empty husk, a poltergeist wandering the halls of his eternal damnation.

 

He bumped into something

Mind finally returning, Jungkook saw that he’d subconsciously made his way back to the fountain room. It was still in its broken down and decaying state, the fountain old and crumbling.

A few birds were scuttering about, chirping quite loudly. Jungkook shivered, reminded of the strange event that happened not too long ago. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he might be able to catch that strange door he went through two nights ago, but upon looking around the room he was only met with disappointment.

 

His eyes did, however, land upon a certain someone.

 

Standing with his back towards Jungkook, Hoseok seemed…..tense.

 

Head cast downwards and shoulders pulled up tight. His fists were clenched.

 

Jungkook slowly scuttled up next to him, making his way around Hoseok’s figure. He peered down to see his expression.

 

He looked lost in deep thought.

 

Jungkook stepped back, wary. Hoseok seemed almost statue like where he stood, his large maroon coat looking like it was enveloping him completely. Or, more like he wanted to sink into it.

Jungkook was about to turn away, afraid, when Hoseok suddenly spoke up.

 

“Are you okay, young Jungkook?”

 

His tone of voice was much more stern, and softer, almost like a whisper. A stark contrast from his usual booming tone.

It only frightened Jungkook more. He swallowed.

 

“U-Um yeah, I’m..I’m fine. Are….are you okay?”

 

“What do you mean?” Hoseok asked, turning his head up to look at Jungkook. A smile graced his lips, not even enough to turn his eyes into crescents.

 

Anyone could tell it was fake.

“You seem... conflicted.” Jungkook said lowly.

 

Hoseok sighed, looking up to the fountain.

 

“I am,” he said. “Many things are happening. They’re quite annoying, you know. They won’t leave me alone.”

 

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows a bit, suspicious.

 

“What are?” he asked.

 

“Can’t you see them?” Hoseok said, confusion is his voice.

 

“S-see what?”

 

“The birds.” he stated, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

 

Jungkook looked around the room, seeing no birds.

 

The chirping he heard earlier had disappeared now.

 

He nearly choked on his own spit. “The-the what?”

 

Hoseok sighed again, annoyance in his breath, before reaching into his pocket and taking out two orange pills. They looked like medical prescription pills. Usually for when someone is sick.

 

Jungkook stared at Hoseok’s palm in confusion, questioning how and why, before Hoseok grunted in agitation and ushered his hand closer to Jungkook’s face, urging him to take a pill.

 

“They’re safe,” Hoseok said, before popping one in to his mouth. “See?”

 

Jungkook looked at Hoseok, waiting for something to happen as a result of the strange medication, but nothing happened. He looked down at Hoseok’s palm again, before hesitantly taking the pill and swallowing it.

 

Jungkook closed his eyes, ready for some horrible effect to overtake him, but when he opened his eyes nothing happened. It all looked the same.

 

“Hoseok, I don’t think-”

 

Jungkook screamed. A horrible feeling washed over his body. It wasn’t pain but it wasn’t pleasure, but it felt horrible.

He fell over, crouching down and yelling and pulling at his hair for the new sensation to get out.

 

He tried looking up to Hoseok for help, but that was also a mistake.

Bright neon colors replaced everything in his vision, his eyes instantly hurting. It looked almost as if he were in the blackout mode of a party, where the lights are replaced with ultraviolet light, the bright colors becoming even brighter, in painful shades of blues and oranges and greens. Pinks and reds splattered over all the walls like blood, looking like thick paint that dripped down every surface.

The fountain was back on now, pristine and not an ounce of dirt on it. Shining pink water flowing out from it at an unbelievable rate. A rainbow of paints dripped down its side, looking like something had exploded out of it.

 

Jungkook looked down at his hands. They were covered in the same paint, drowned in greens and yellows. His breath quickened, body shaking, terrified. He tried stepping back but slipped on the alien substance, falling back down and becoming even more covered in it.

 

Jungkook looked up to Hoseok’s similarly paint covered figure, pleading and begging in his eyes, but Hoseok looked as if nothing was wrong. As if this was normal and that Jungkook was the one being odd here. For a moment he thought that maybe he was, before Hoseok asked:

 

“Do you see them now?” and pointed off beside him.

 

Jungkook looked over, body still vibrating intently, before he came to a complete halt.

 

He saw the birds.

 

Oh, he saw the birds.

 

A flock of birds. Tens, hundreds, it seemed like thousands.

Tons and tons of birds.

 

Doves, he noted.

 

“ The fifteen year old me with nothing”

 

Hundreds of feathers, fluttering and flapping together. Their frantic cooing mingling together to one, fearful sound. Out. Away. Escaping.

Afraid.

 

Of something.

 

“The world was so big, I was so small”

 

It looked like a complete carbon copy, a copy paste of the image of birds he saw out his window.

A tornado of agitated, frightened birds, all fluttering about and trying to escape.

 

“Now I can’t even imagine it

I can’t even imagine myself”

 

Jungkook screamed again, and it seemed as if as one body, the birds stopped and turned towards him. He didn’t have much time to process the events before the next thing filling his vision was the image of hundreds of birds speeding towards him.

 

He threw his arms over his head as quickly as he could, and braced for the impact of tons of tiny bodies slamming into him, the attack of thousands of little beaks and talons.

 

“ Who used to have no scent, who used to be empty.”

 

But it never came.

 

Slowly, Jungkook opened his eyes and lowered his arms.

 

The birds were gone.

The fountain turned off.

The lights back to normal.

No trace of the strange blood substance ever existing.

 

"I can’t stand

you crying”

 

And Hoseok was singing.

 

Jungkook slowly stood up, his legs shaking and threatening to collapse, but he first himself onto his feet. Slowly making his way to Hoseok, he felt as if he knew the tune, and started humming it under his breath.

 

“I want to cry instead

Although I can’t”

 

Jungkook started humming louder, coming right up to facing Hoseok, staring into his unreadable expression, the words on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Love you my brothers, thanks to my brothers

I now have emotions”

 

“I became me”

 

Jungkook sang, his voice shaky and unsure. He bit his lip and didn’t know whether or not to continue, shaking his head and about to step away. Hoseok smiled and cupped Jungkook’s face, calming him down and urging him to continue. Hoseok went on, but pausing a bit, allowing Jungkook to catch on.

 

“So I’m me”

 

“Now I’m me”

 

“ You make me begin”

 

“You make me begin” 

“You make me begin”

 

The two sang in harmony, both singing the words like they’d known it their whole lives. Hoseok continued to sing the chorus as Jungkook broke off into background words. They saddened him.

 

“Smile with me.

 

Smile with me.

 

Smile with me”

 

“ You make me begin”

 

They sang their song together, Jungkook of the verge of tears but Hoseok’s face showing complete joy, heart shaped smile plastered proudly on his face.
He never let go of holding Jungkook in his hands, touching him gently and soothing him, who constantly looked like he wanted to curl up into a ball.

 

“ You make me begin”

 

“You make me begin”

 

“You make me begin”

 

“Cry with me

Cry with me

Cry with me”

 

Jungkook couldn’t stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t know why that started but he couldn’t get them to stop. Staring into Hoseok’s eyes he felt fear. Fear of what he really was, but calmness. Soothing peace. Staring into Hoseok he felt as if he were looking straight into the cosmos, into his past present and future. Like everything was coming together. Like Hoseok had the answers to everything, To their lives, to their deaths, to this strange world they’ve been imprisoned.

 

Felt like everything was going to be okay.

 

“ You made me again.”

 

Their song faded out. Hoseok dropped his hands from Jungkook’s face and Jungkook immediately missed the lack of warmth. Of comfort.

Hoseok stepped back.

 

Silence ensued for a few moments, Jungkook trying to find answers. Answers to his questions. Questions to ask.

 

“Who….are you?” he croaked, his voice raw and shaky.

 

Hoseok smiled, leaning back in to Jungkook’s face.

 

“That’s for you to figure out.” he giggled, and booped Jungkook’s nose.

 

He jumped back, immediately laughing in his usually joyful, booming voice.

 

“Well! That was fun. I have stuff to do I’ll see you around, Kookie!” he exclaimed before steadily making his way out of the garden.

 

Jungkook was left to ponder the events, and to question the warmth blooming in his chest.

 

For the first time since coming here, he felt safe. Felt like there was nothing wrong. Felt like that he had someone by his side to help him.

 

Felt like everything was going to be okay.

 

He wondered what Hoseok did, and hoped he could do it again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jungkook returned to his routine of walking the halls, humming the song he’d sung with Hoseok under his breath. ‘ Begin’, he dubbed it. It seemed like a song of new beginnings, but reminiscing of old times.

 

He walked around the museum, taking his time to actually inspect each of the seemingly endless rooms, something he hadn’t done before.

 

Each room was filled with old paintings, sculptures, even jewelry and ceramic sets. Jungkook was afraid of actually touching anything, not wanting to repeat the same incident that had happened in his first 30 seconds of being here. He definitely couldn’t help being intrigued by each piece, though. Some exhibits looking so old they ranged beyond the Middle Ages, others looking much more moden. He felt as if we were walking through a castle rather than a museum. Or perhaps more of a time travelling machine, at this point.

 

The paper in his pocket crinkled with each step, the sound becoming seemingly louder and louder, until Jungkook simply couldn’t take it anymore. His curiosity had over taken him, and he decided to listen to his urges, despite the fact that it had never worked out well in the past.

 

Carefully taking it out his pocket, Jungkook inspected the letter one more time, but stopped.

 

The previous illegible name was now very distinctly written.

 

And very distinctly made out to him.

 

He felt his breath get caught in his throat, unsure of whether or not to continue. Hands shaking, he decided to open the letter, hoping it wasn’t a huge mistake to do so.

 

He hesitantly read the old, tattered note paper, steadily walking along as he did so.

 

“22 May YEAR 22

“I thought my body was floating in the air but in no time I was on the hard ground. I didn’t feel anything at all for a while. My whole body just felt unbearably heavy, so I couldn’t even open my eyes. I couldn’t even swallow or breathe. I was losing consciousness and my surroundings gradually became dim.

“Then suddenly, as though shocked by something, my whole body jolted in a spasm. Amidst the pain and thirst that I couldn’t pinpoint, I opened my eyes involuntarily. I could see something flickering beyond my range of vision, with my eyes feeling like they were full of sand. I thought it was a light, but it wasn’t. It was bright, and big, and dim. It didn’t move and hung in the air. After I looked at it for a while, its form gradually became more clear. It was the moon.

“The world was upside down, maybe because my head was bent backwards. In that world, that moon was also hanging upside down. I tried to cough so that I could breathe, but I couldn’t move. Then I felt a chill. I was scared. I moved my lips but no words came out. Even though my eyes weren’t closed, everything was getting dark. In my fading consciousness, someone spoke to me.

“‘Living will be more painful than dying. Do you still want to live?'”

 

“ This...is from me,” he thought.

 

Jungkook’s throat was completely dry now, heart hamming in his chest.

 

His mind had been blindly taking in the information from the note as he was reading it, but now that he was thinking it over, he felt struck. Like he was remembering.

 

Remembering fighting. Fighting with someone. Someone close to him. A relative or a close friend, he couldn’t tell.

 

He remembers being sad. Grieving. Grieving over loss. Over the loss of someone. Someone close to him.

 

He remembered feeling lost, alone. Trapped, abandoned.

But he still felt like he was forgetting something.

 

Walking along, not taking in his surroundings, he came to the top of a set of stairs.

 

It was then that the glass broke.

 

Or at least, Jungkook felt like it did.

 

The loud, crashing shattering of glass, right next to his ear. He felt the impact. He felt the pain of the sharp surface stinging and cutting his skin.

Yet there was no glass anywhere in that hallway.

 

It threw him off guard, scared him.

Sent him flying down the staircase.

 

Jungkook thought his legs had shattered, just as the glass did. Numb and feeling scattered, into a million tiny pieces.

 

Voices - tons of voices shouting at him. Laughing at him. Mocking him. Some he thought he recognized, some he didn’t.

 

He thought he was falling.

Suspended in air.

Diving through the air at an incredible speed, falling forever, never stopping.

 

“‘Living will be more painful than dying. Do you still want to live?'”

 

Until his body came crashing down onto the cold marble floor. The pain jolting him back to reality. The reality of the quite embarrassing position and situation he was now stuck in.

 

The stairs he tripped down were really quite small, no more than four or five steps. That plus now that his rear was hanging up in the air, legs folded underneath him, he really hoped no one had been around to witness the event.

 

As usual, Jungkook was unlucky.

 

The quick clacking of shoes on marble ran up behind him. A worried voice ringing out after a short amused snort.

 

“Oh my gosh - Jungkook are you okay?” V asked, worried but still finding the situation funny.

 

Jungkook didn’t reply - just sat there and groaned in pain.

 

The amusement quickly fell from V’s voice.

 

“Oh my goodness - hey. Hey! Are you alright?” He quickly ran down the stairs and over to in front of Jungkook.

 

“Yeah..” Jungkook mumbled. “I’m fine…”

 

V cupped his face and lifted it off of the floor, inspecting it solemnly.

 

“Really? Then you are you crying?”

 

Jungkook almost scoffed. “I’m not cry-” but cut himself short as soon as he felt the warm tears roll off of his cheek. Carefully, he reached a hand up to his face.

“I’m...crying?”

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” V asked, voice low and soothing.

 

Jungkook said nothing, just going over in his head the events that just occured.

 

“Hey - hey, talk to me here. Are you alright?” V asked again, gently shaking Jungkook’s shoulders.

 

Jungkook shook his head. “No...no, no, I don’t think so. Why did I...hear them?”

 

“Hear who?”

 

“I don’t...know.” Jungkook said quietly. “I heard...voices...I think. I don’t know what they were saying though, but, I didn’t…..I didn’t like it...I don’t think they were saying good things.”

 

V said nothing, just looked at Jungkook, worry lacing his face but clearly deep in his own thoughts.

 

He sighed, wiping away Jungkook’s tears, before carefully urging him to stand up.

 

“C’mon,” V said, gently taking Jungkook’s hand. “I came to get you because lunch is ready. Hopefully you’ll feel a bit better, okay?”

 

Jungkook didn’t say anything, just nodded and allowed V to pull him through the halls, hand in hand.

 

He was not at all opposed to the warm and content feeling in his chest from holding V’s hand, knowing that at least someone here was worried about him, when even he didn’t know what was going on with himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The lunch Jin prepared was filling, Jungkook slowly becoming able to taste the food more and more. He refused to actually look at anyone, but was fine when V seated himself next to him, Jungkook barely being able to resist the urge to lean into him.

 

After the meal, Jungkook found himself walking the halls again.

He was exhausted. Wanted a rest, but was scared to return to his room again. The letter long abandoned at the staircase, he wasn’t sure what to do now. He could continue admiring all the art installments, but apparently endless rooms and no descriptions plaques of any kind, he knew it would bore him out eventually.

 

Tomorrow, he decided.

 

For now, he meandered the halls aimlessly, hoping it would lead him somewhere significant. That seemed to be how he got to places, already.

 

Thinking back to the memories he’d had today, Jungkook wondered what his life was like. What was his family like? His friends? How did he die? How did he lose them? What was his brother doing now?

 

His brother.

 

His brother.

 

Jungkook had a brother. That was the person he’d lost. Been grieving over.

He’d lost his brother.

But how? How did he lose him? What caused his death? Why? Why weren’t the two brothers on better terms?

 

That was the person Jungkook had been fighting, right?
One of many, he assumed. He’d fought with a lot of people.

What were they fighting about? Why?

 

The note.

 

Jungkook remembered his note.

The one he somehow sent to himself.

 

He stopped in the middle of the hallway.

 

He looked up.

The hallway was dark.

The absence of light disturbing him.

 

At the end of the hallway, he could make out a figure. Their back was turned to him.

 

Jungkook took a step forward.

 

The person turned around.

 

Yoongi looked a bit more solemn than usual. He looked upset. Almost angry, if the small furrow in his brow was any indication.

 

Jungkook swallowed. He couldn’t help being scared. The already unsettling tendencies of Yoongi mixed with whatever foreign emotion he was experiencing right now put Jungkook on edge.

 

He wanted to say something. Anything. He couldn’t just turn on his heel and leave. He had to speak. Perhaps to start a conversation, or ask what was wrong, he had to-

 

“Hyung.”

 

Both Jungkook and Yoongi froze. Jungkook wasn’t sure why he said that. It burned his throat and rested on his tongue, but he felt comfortable saying it, as if he’d said it a thousand times.

 

“Hyung,” he repeated.

 

Yoongi was the one who looked terrified now.

 

“Hyung, hyung. H-hyung,” Jungkook sputtered. Now that he started he didn’t want to stop.

 

Yoongi took a step back.

 

“Hyung,”

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to,

 

Jungkook couldn’t stop saying it.

 

“H-hyung, hyung, hyung hyung, hyung,”

 

With each repetition of the word, Jungkook took a step forward, while Yoongi tried taking one back.

 

Jungkook was scared now. Why couldn’t he stop saying it? He wanted to stop but he couldn’t. Yoongi seemed just as confused and scared, wanting to run himself.

 

Jungkook didn’t want him to.

 

“Hyung, hyung, hyung, hyung I- h-hyung please. Hyung p-please,”

 

Tears were beginning to stream down his face. Reaching out towards Yoongi, he begged. Begged for help, for comfort, for anything. His legs trembled.

 

“ Hyung” Jungkook whispered, before collapsing onto the ground.

 

“Hyung, hyung help, hyung please, I-I hyung, ”

 

The words spilling from his mouth, he reached out and grabbed Yoongi’s shirt, pulling him down.

 

“ Hyung, help me. ” he pleaded.

 

He heard feet round the corner, Jimin now coming into view.

 

“Hey, Yoongi, there you a-oh, hey, woah what’s going on?”

 

Yoongi gripped tightly onto Jungkook’s shirt, feeling like he wanted to help Jungkook but didn’t know how. He threw a pleading look at Jimin, before returning his gaze back to Jungkook.

 

Jungkook felt something coming up his throat, and gathering all he could, mustered the strength to lift his head and look Yoongi directly in the eyes.

 

“Hyung, please, help me.”

 

And then the dam broke.

 

Jungkook bent over forcefully, retching fluids and emptying his guts. There was a sickeningly sweet taste in his mouth as the alien liquid exited him. Tears blurring his vision, his ears ringing, but he could still hear Jimin’s alarmed yelp and Yoongi’s worried expression, looking like he was going to vomit, himself.

 

Jungkook almost vomited a second time upon seeing what he just threw up.

 

A dark, oily, paint like liquid, that shifted colors in the low light, almost like oil itself.

 

Jungkook wanted to question, wanted to scream, to ask for help, but his vision faded on him before he could do anything else. His whole world turning to black, body slumping over. He could feel Yoongi struggle to hold him up, before going numb completely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was back in that dark space again. The darkness threatening to fill him up in every part of him it could reach.

He slowly opened his eyes.

He remembered this day.

 

His family shouting at him, threatening to beat him.

 

He was already sick of them. Sick of everything.

 

He’d had a fight with his hyung the other day.

He doesn’t remember what it was about, but he remembers being thrown around. A chair thrown. Glass breaking. Himself crying.

 

He was sick and tired of everything. Wanted to end it. How messed up it was, he thought, that in order to escape his pain and find pleasure, he went looking to get himself injured, damaged, destroyed on purpose. It was only better, he reasoned with himself, because it was pain from strangers. Pain from those you don’t know hurts far lass than being hurt by those you love.

 

He figured he was done. This was it. He wasn’t able to throw himself off of the construction site, might as well try a different method here.

 

The streets are busy, right? Heavy traffic? But enough time for someone to speed ahead, not be able to stop their death machine from barreling into a pedestrian that suddenly showed up in the road? It’d be quick, right? Painless, right?

 

He showed up to the intersection. Just as he’d thought, the streets were somewhat busy.

Where is everyone going so late at night? He thought. Away from here, he answered. After all, that’s where he was going, too, right?

 

He waited. And waited. ANd waited at the street light. Waiting for the perfect opportunity.

And then it came.

A black truck. Coming along quite fast.

THey wouldn’t be able to stop if he stepped right in front of them, right?

 

He stepped out into the street.

 

Staring into the bright lights quickly closing in on him. Wondering what the panicked face of the driver must look like.

 

The headlights were right in front of him now. He could see it all: his life and what it was, what led up to this. The impact, the crash, hopefully his last few moments.

 

He turned his head back to the driver, and stopped.

 

WAIT-

Jungkook awoke abruptly, disturbed from his nightmare, but he knew it wasn’t the nightmare’s fault.

 

He waited for a moment. He was back in his room now. Fear instantly flooded his mind, wondering how he got back into this hell hole.

 

He waited.

 

An explosion.

Then another.

A large rumbling vibrated throughout the halls, shaking the entire museum.

 

Jungkook was scared.

 

He knew something was here.

 

He knew someone was here.

 

Two someones were fighting.