Entry tags:
𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕠
The first thing Jungkook notices is, where there should be darkness: light.
And in that moment, time takes a different form — no longer dictated by the pulse that runs through his veins, but instead caught in the chaos of sound, the screech of tires like a scream through the night, metal crunching against the soft cushion of muscle.
Everything passes—
—it should be in the blink of an eye, but his eyes see—
—too much, the air between his body and the ground, and it feels like he's floating, and he watches from the perspective of crumbled asphalt as his body descends to meet the earth, and where Jungkook should feel a jolt, his eyes only see limbs thrown around like ribbons whipping through the air.
Then the movement stops. In the stillness, Jungkook knows that the ground is still underneath his body, though he feels none of it. There's only an indescribable weight that presses from all sides, coaxes his eyes to a close, weighs down on him like a thick, woollen blanket, muffling the sounds. He can't breathe. Can't open his mouth to speak, can't open his eyes to see, and the emptiness in his lungs begins to burn. (Is that crackling in the air, or is it just in his memories? Jungkook yells through the flames, but again the words don't come.)
But then the ground moves—
—or is it his body? Skin scraping against the jagged earth, and suddenly it hurts, ice cold through his nerves and Jungkook bites down on his tongue, tastes something metallic on his lips but doesn't feel any of it, nothing to cut through the pain, and that's when his eyes open and catch—
—a bright light, blurred as it encompasses his field of view.
It hangs in the air, and Jungkook blinks, trying to clear the blur from his eyes, like rotating through the settings of his lens. Slowly, it takes shape: the moon, luminous and heavy, swimming in the deep blue ocean of the sky, with streaks of yellow and white up above. The stretch of sky is too vast, stars blurring in his vision until they're little more than ripples in the water, and Jungkook can feel their chill washing over him in waves. Whether he's shaking or shivering, he can't tell the difference.
Someone approaches: a pair of shoes firmly attached to the ceiling while Jungkook feels still unmoored. He tries to move his lips, but feels little more than a soft pulse. His throat is parched.
As the man crouches, lifting himself above the limitless expanse of the sky, Jungkook watches the light of the moon start to fade. Through a soft hiss and the chirping of cicadas, words softly break through the noise. The soft familiarity of the voice draws him closer to sleep.
"...more painful to live than to die. Do you still want to live?"
And in that moment, time takes a different form — no longer dictated by the pulse that runs through his veins, but instead caught in the chaos of sound, the screech of tires like a scream through the night, metal crunching against the soft cushion of muscle.
Everything passes—
—it should be in the blink of an eye, but his eyes see—
—too much, the air between his body and the ground, and it feels like he's floating, and he watches from the perspective of crumbled asphalt as his body descends to meet the earth, and where Jungkook should feel a jolt, his eyes only see limbs thrown around like ribbons whipping through the air.
Then the movement stops. In the stillness, Jungkook knows that the ground is still underneath his body, though he feels none of it. There's only an indescribable weight that presses from all sides, coaxes his eyes to a close, weighs down on him like a thick, woollen blanket, muffling the sounds. He can't breathe. Can't open his mouth to speak, can't open his eyes to see, and the emptiness in his lungs begins to burn. (Is that crackling in the air, or is it just in his memories? Jungkook yells through the flames, but again the words don't come.)
But then the ground moves—
—or is it his body? Skin scraping against the jagged earth, and suddenly it hurts, ice cold through his nerves and Jungkook bites down on his tongue, tastes something metallic on his lips but doesn't feel any of it, nothing to cut through the pain, and that's when his eyes open and catch—
—a bright light, blurred as it encompasses his field of view.
It hangs in the air, and Jungkook blinks, trying to clear the blur from his eyes, like rotating through the settings of his lens. Slowly, it takes shape: the moon, luminous and heavy, swimming in the deep blue ocean of the sky, with streaks of yellow and white up above. The stretch of sky is too vast, stars blurring in his vision until they're little more than ripples in the water, and Jungkook can feel their chill washing over him in waves. Whether he's shaking or shivering, he can't tell the difference.
Someone approaches: a pair of shoes firmly attached to the ceiling while Jungkook feels still unmoored. He tries to move his lips, but feels little more than a soft pulse. His throat is parched.
As the man crouches, lifting himself above the limitless expanse of the sky, Jungkook watches the light of the moon start to fade. Through a soft hiss and the chirping of cicadas, words softly break through the noise. The soft familiarity of the voice draws him closer to sleep.
"...more painful to live than to die. Do you still want to live?"