IMAGO (1/2)
Hoseok is broken.
He smells wet moss, cold mist, steaming iron sludge and hundreds of fir trees; sees the body of someone he cares about so much laying crumpled, defeated, in front of him; tastes mint on his tongue because it's late, so late, he had already brushed his teeth and gone to bed hours ago; hears the car brakes squeak a little behind him, almost quiet beneath the sound of words he was never supposed to hear, especially not in the sinister, manipulative way he was hearing them; feels his hands clench, nails digging into his palms, feels the rawness in his throat and burning in his lungs from running and screaming, and more than that, he feels cut open, defiled, foolish; though he experiences all this, exists inside this moment, he doesn't process any of it. Beyond blank, his mind is completely gone, and he receives all this input more like someone half asleep watching a TV screen than someone truly there. The words that come out of his mouth are more reflex, more base reaction, than anything he'd had a chance to desire articulating before doing so.
"You disgust me."
"Tell me more." It hisses out through gritted teeth.
"You're fucking gross. You're pathetic."
"It feels good."
It feels so good he bashes his head against the ground a few times, laughing a little when the blood oozing down his face tickles his lips.
"Yeah? Does it? It feels good? You're fucking sick. You have no right to judge- us." He chokes on the word. Shakes his head. "Yoongi is a good person that does nothing but try as hard as he fucking can to make everyone around him happy. He's talented, and strong and he beat you. He did something, I don't know what, but he outsmarted you and you wasted your time here. I hate you and you lost, Yoongi beat you. Die. Go away."
Yoongi's throat is so thick with slime he only gurgles when it tries to talk. A car door slams but he doesn't turn to look, and nobody approaches. He moves closer, falls to his knees and really lets himself look at what this thing has done to his Yoongi. Greasy hair, fat beads of sweat dotting his forehead alongside blood and dirt. Brows furrowed, eyes closed, nostrils flared, mess covering his split lips and gaunt cheeks, his throat, most of his shirt.
"What was the point? Why did you do all this?"
He can hear his friends asking him if he's okay but he just waves them off. The car starts moving again.
More laughter spills forth, much louder this time.
"You're crying again, great." His eyes flicker when they catch the blinding headlights and he rolls over onto his back.
"You're right, I will be gone soon. But I still won. He'll never be the same after this, he'll never be able to live a normal life. There are so many things you idiots don't even know about, that I made him watch me do. Made him listen. Things he won't ever be able to summon the courage to tell you. He'll never forget that. Never."
Inside, there's anger, deep sadness, confusion and hatred that scares him, that he can't control. He recalls how long this has gone on, how far the train has careened off the track.
"Die already. Being around you makes me sick. Watching us all this time? Destroying our things? Our home? Hurting us? Hurting that girl? Trying to ruin everything we've worked for? You think we got this far because of you? Don't make me laugh. You are nothing, you were nothing but a hindrance- a bad dream Yoongi will forget about as soon as he wakes up." Hoseok's voice builds; the maelstrom of shattered pieces inside him builds; his grief for time lost, his overwhelming awareness of being manipulated and deceived for so long, builds. He feels his own edges blur as wild emotions lurch around inside him.
"You accomplished nothing while you were here. You- I don't know what you are but I know you are nothing without him- you're fucking PATHETIC! FUCK YOU! YOU'RE DISGUSTING!! YOU THINK THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH US?? LOOK AT YOU! YOU ARE FUCKING GARBAGE. NOTHING you said about him is true. You're wrong- wrong about EVERYTHING you THINK you know about him. Or me, or what we- what we are to each other. I'LL still be here tomorrow, YOONGI will still be here tomorrow, AND YOU WON'T! FUCK! YOU!" He drags a determined sleeve over his face, wiping away hot tears. When it comes to being happy, he has lots of energy, but negative emotions are too exhausting. Anger never survives long, anyway; the guilt, regret, and worry are what will remain with him forever.
It tries to laugh one last time but it comes out a wet gurgle. Yoongi's body goes dead still. Gravel crunches behind him but he doesn't turn to look until Namjoon speaks.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know, I don't know, it wasn't him, that whole time it wasn't really hi-" there's a choked cough and they both turn to look at Yoongi. More sludge leaks from the corner of his lips. Blacked out on his back, even with his cheek nearly resting on the ground, he starts to choke.
"Quick, turn him over, onto his side." He's slimy and completely limp but thin, too thin, it's not difficult. Fluid gushes out of his throat and there's a gasping breath. The slime is a dark rusty brown but becomes lighter and thinner as more comes out.
"What is happening? Did we do something wrong, is he going to be okay?"
"I don't know what else we could have done."
Another minute of listening.
"What now?"
"I don't know. I just- want to go home. I really want to change clothes. Go to sleep. But. He probably needs to go to the hospital. I think at least some of this is his blood."
"I like the first idea better. What if...if they found something- off about him? We're trying to distance ourselves from controversy. I mean...it's...human's blood doesn't really look like this. This is...something else." The last part comes out really quiet.