Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
—
He doesn't really need to breathe anymore, but he does it anyway.
Taehyung's been dead for a while now. He's gotten used to not hearing his heart beat in his ears after long runs at dawn, and not bleeding when he scrapes his knee, but for a very unknown and peculiar reason, he hasn't stopped breathing yet.
Not that he wanted to challenge the laws of nature or that he was searching for spiritual fulfillment by doing it; He was just inhaling and exhaling as usual. It was a habit of life.
But he was dead, so why did do it anyway? Well, to be fair, he wasn't exactly dead; just gone in the physical sense, not on Earth. He still looked the same — had the same arms, same hair, the same lungs.
So he breathed.
Not to feel alive again, but because he liked the way the clear blue skies felt when he pulled them in through his nose. He definitely didn't want to feel alive again. This was much better.
Wherever he was, it was always beautiful. The world kind of resembled a big campus, or at times a theme park, or a resort, or a beachside neighborhood. To be honest, he had no clue what to call it. To be honest, he didn't care.
Taehyung wasn't always big on sharing, but this place was his heaven and the heaven of others. He shared it with a couple thousand people, most of which he didn't talk to. It was as big as a city, with dorms for each soul to live in and customize to their heart's content. But he didn't like being inside too much anymore.
He liked to roam a lot since his passing, since he only ever got the chance to see the slums when his heart was still beating. Actually beating, at least.
In Guryong the streets were buzzing with human bodies and busy souls and notorious crimes. Here the streets bursted with verdurous life, swaying in the passing breeze only to fall still again. Taehyung walked leisurely and lightly through the sunlight, his blue-green aviators entangled atop his hair. He heard the distant slap of waves, the click of the soles of his sandal against his heel as he moved, and his sandals against the pavement.
"Ah," The boy murmured to himself, "I guess I'm the only one up in this heaven."
Because, to be fair, it was only eight o' clock in the morning. The rising sun had just settled into its bed on plush clouds above. Taehyung crossed under another archway of flora, ducking low so it wouldn't hit his head. A zephyr sped on by, slapping the fabric of his white jersey and shorts against his skin. And when it was gone, he was left all alone again. By himself, completely.
