𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 + 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐌

2 | as i lay dying

jeongguk did not feel safe in the slightest.

as he stepped off the bus, he clung onto his hardback with bony fingers, glowering at the burnt aroma in the air. surely no-one would be having a barbecue while the streets were frosted over in a thin sheet of ice, and the crisp coldness of the wind made breathing properly quite bothersome. the end of september was unusually wintry, and so were his feet, toes too numb to feel the wetness which had soaked through.

every house he came across had a flaw: splintering cracks down the windows; missing roof tiles lazily covered with tarp; the graffiti maintained a pretty facade despite depicting slang and cruel slurs.

until he got to his own.

no matter how small or unappealing it looked to some, it was home for him, and jeongguk could finally stumble through the door, frantically closing the door to seal in the warmth which he often craved.

"i'm home," jeongguk called out, awaiting a response that never arrived. his brother had been out more than normal lately.

his parents had been gone for years. whether or not that was a bad thing was debatable.

they were convicts, though his father was the only one being prosecuted after his mother fled from the eyes of the police with cowardice in her heart. the thought of the convictions his father had received were enough to cause revulsion to churn his insides.

as usual, he began his routine, pulling his bedroom door shut as the hinge let out a strained whine, and sinking into the plush cushion of his desk chair. stacks of books pushed to the back of the surface for the lack of a bookshelf, blocked out the wall mirror. not that jeongguk was complaining.

his sometimes jaundiced eyes and scrawny figure were not appealing to himself in the least.

now that he was home, he could study to his heart's content.

it wasn't an enjoyable passtime for jeongguk, however. he manoeuvred his elbow while scribbling across notebook pages and hissed softly at the reoccurring paper cuts on his fingers. he felt some satisfaction knowing he would not be behind in his class.

for hours he went on like this, too immersed on writing detailed notes on the development of human rights to even notice the state of his room. books which didn't make the cut for living on the desk were stacked in every nook and cranny. his current read was placed atop his bed which was always made neatly. his outerwear was strewn onto the floor like wrapping paper on christmas, leaving him in a loosely fitting black tee and jeans.

it was so enticing, the idea of saying fuck it and finishing the last few chapters of crime and punishment but jeongguk persevered, making more space for his elbow by discarding a bottle which had not seen water in many moons.

seeing the bottle had reminded him of his prescribed medication; the container remained stood on his bedside table due to a constant excuse that there was not water in his bottle to take them with, and he would fill it up the next day.

but alas, it had been many moons.

too many.

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he blinked himself awake, whining softly at the stiffness in his neck and attempting to soothe it by rubbing at his nape, only to feel sweat across his palm. jeongguk peeled his face from the book, leaving an imprint of it in the supple skin on his cheek. this had happened too many times, him sleeping at the desk, despite the bed being in such close vicinity. his internal monologue was probably along the lines of: maybe i could just put my head down for a while... or better yet, rest my eyes for a bit...

feeling out for his phone, only to witness it cold and dead prompted the teen to go look at the clock in the hallway. as if the moon shining beyond the trees wasn't enough of an indication of the time. the tunnel of his throat ached as if in drought, and it was itchy as he attempted to swallow.

"water," the teen murmured, feeling around the desk for a bottle. he let out a frustrated groan upon recalling the time he had put the empty item in the wastebasket. it was at that moment jeongguk condemned himself for not being more resourceful earlier and making sure that he had water near him regularly. never mind that 8-cups-a-day nonsense.

his attempt to stand up was futile; he wobbled like a spinning top, reaching out hands to find something to stabilise himself with, anything. before that was possible, jeongguk stepped down awkwardly on his foot, gasping at the sudden stretch of his ankle into an unnatural fold.

the pain. though not immediate, a cry widened his throat and he curled in on himself making shaky grabs at the joint. the feeling he so despised scorched within his ligament, soon fizzling up his calf and pouring down to his writhing toes. again jeongguk made an effort to stand up, but to no avail. he expected a gradual waning of the pain only to be denied such a luxury.

"hyung!"

it was a shameless, desperate call for aid from the teen, despite his uncertainty regarding whether his brother was even home or not. jeongguk writhed further, shrieking a mantra of "hyung, hyung, hyung," repeatedly. with each call, his faith dropped steeply, breaths growing shallower.

as tears gathered around his ducts, small beads broke the surface tension, streaking down his cheeks and leaving wet ribbons behind. the salty liquid made his vision blurred and indistinct, so the moment the bedroom door creaked open, he assumed the panicking figure which followed through was his brother.

"yoongi, i'm sorry.." he whispered, putting on a pained smile, recognising the familiar, earthy smell of his brother's aftershave. long arms pulled jeongguk's frail figure into a delicate embrace; they were cold and wet from the rain.

yoongi's desperate words of reassurance were inaudible to jeongguk. he gradually became silent and limp, a porcelain doll deaf to the pained screams of his beholder.

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:) that is all i have to say