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    "Do you like the rain?" Jungkook murmured, his wry voice becoming boisterous underneath the rain amidst the inquiry; although they were many feet apart from one another.

    "Yes, I love the rain!" Taehyung answered, lips were quivering, panting, and desperate. Every inch of his body from his brown hair to his sneakers was drenched. "Right? Yah, Jungkook-ah, please don't do this to yourself, I-I love you! I fucking do!"

    Taehyung noted the thoroughfare as much as Jungkook's damp, bleached blond locks of hair. How beautiful he resembled with his upper arm tattoos converting into a visibility through the transparent white tee shirt.

    Taehyung had his hands on his knees, back bending over to meet them in the first place. He was short of breath and should have been sweating if it weren't for the shower, running from somewhere without an umbrella in sight.

    All Taehyung could perceive were the corner of Jungkook's lips curling into an eldritch smirk, standing on that sidewalk as cars and pedestrians passed them, sharing them eyes and ears.

"It's too late for that, Hyung."

    How did they end up here? In the middle of the road, exchanging bellows of questions and answers which did not describe anything?

    Jungkook was waiting for the streetlight to turn red, and once it did, would he jump into the crosswalk with the impetus for suicide?

    For now, they were safe, but what about when they weren't?

    Taehyung must know, Taehyung must know! He never knew anything, he must know it all. Why, Jungkook? Why? Why? Why?

    Jungkook...meandered into the hectic roadway, conveniently as an oil truck sped forward.

    Jeon Jungkook. 

    A name Taehyung buried somewhere within his memories...until the first-year entrance ceremony had he registered how wrongly he had done it, how wrongly he misunderstood his overwhelming feelings.

    It had never been correct in the first place— but, he wasn't ready to lose his chances once more.

    He was doing it wrongly once more!

This was the present, the present that might become the future, or the present that might become the past. Choose your path, Taehyung, what will you do?

Kim Taehyung, want to try again? Well, let's resume, shall we? 

— DING! DING! DING!

God, what the fuck was that sound?

A Furin wind chime chiming belligerently, it induced pain, banging Taehyung's skull. Taehyung unlatched his eyes, waking up with tears drizzling down his cheeks. He discovered himself lying on the floor instead of his bed, the duvet trapping his limbs.

Jesus, he woke up from a terribly written and produced nightmare. What the happened? Why was he crying? No idea, yet everything sucked, physically and mentally.

It felt corporeal as if he had streetwise it, the pain— who was that empty-eyed, blond boy? He looked identical to someone Taehyung can recognize well, very well.

Taehyung jerked his head at the alarm clock on his bedside nightstand. Ah! 30 more minutes and he might not make it to school. He better get up and get ready.

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