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“ I am a PDS sufferer and what I did in my untreated state was not my fault. ”
It’s the same routine each day, but as Jungkook speaks those familiar words to his reflection on that particular morning, he’s on the edge of his seat because it was finally the day; the day he got to leave the facility.
The rehabilitation center, as the scientists liked to call it, wasn’t necessarily one of the bad ones. Uncomfortable? Yes. Bad at their job? Not really. He wasn’t running rabid — that was for sure.
In fact, as Jungkook looks into the mirror, if only for a moment he can pretend that he looks alive again. The mousse that was applied to his face hardly matches his old skin tone, but combined with the brown contacts hiding his colorless irises, he almost feels normal.
When he stares for just a second too long, the fantasy disappears.
Afterall, Jungkook is dead. Well- partially dead. Officially diagnosed with Partially Deceased Syndrome . After a rather unfortunate turn of events which lead to a war between the living and the deceased, a remedy was concocted to turn the undead into only kind of dead, able to walk the earth alongside the living.
The Rising occurred just months after Jungkook’s death. Those who died in the twelve prior months rose from their graves without warning. It took three years and hundreds of tests for researchers to finish fine tuning the medicine which would keep the hunger at bay, but it still wasn’t enough. They were only reanimated corpses.
Although he can cake his face in makeup and fool himself into thinking he's just like everyone else, there's too many setbacks in the treatment for him to feel the same again. Medicine, flashbacks, makeup — the unforgiving treatment from the living.
The price to pay for dying, he supposes.
Jungkook’s walking out of the facility a mere hour later and his mother bursts into tears upon seeing him. His father died during the rising, attacked by an ‘Untreated PDS Sufferer’. Jungkook doesn’t dare mention his name.
The car ride home is nothing spectacular, Jungkook’s mind occupied by other thoughts ( TaeTaeTae- ). He can feel his mom curiously glancing over at him every few seconds to study his face, but he isn’t surprised. The last time she saw her son, he was being lowered into the ground. A mother shouldn’t have to experience that. He let the guilt wash over him with that thought, subconsciously pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands to ensure his wrists are completely out of sight. He musters the strength to give his mother a small smile.
Home isn’t what it used to be. Not only is his father gone, but his younger brother won’t even spare him a glance. Jungkook could’ve sworn he heard his brother mutter something about rotters before stomping to his room, door slamming shut right behind him. Jungkook pretends it doesn’t hurt, but the pain in his chest which makes him shiver betrays him. It hurts that the person he trusted the most before he died pushes him to the side like this, but not everyone was going to be accepting — especially not those who lost family because of his kind. With a sympathetic smile, his mom guides him back to his room.
Not a single thing changed when it came to his room. He’s somewhat relieved by the fact that everything, including the art lining his walls, are still in place, but the guilt continues to eat away at him as he thinks of how much turmoil his family must have been in to not touch his room after years of being away.
News travels fast in a town as small as theirs and before he knows it, there’s a certified nurse knocking at the door because she saw them come home and she was around town and offers to demonstrate to his family how to administer his daily dose of medicine.
Nerves run through him as the eyes of his family closely watch the nurse’s movements. His eyes are scrunched tight as he feels the needle prod at him and as soon as the substance is injected into him, it begins.
He’s thrashing uncontrollably as an assortment of distressed noises leave his mouth, but his mind is occupied by the memory of his rising. He can taste the dirt in his mouth and feel it under his nails, the memory of being closed in weighing heavy on his chest. The thought always left him gasping for air, unable to fathom why his parents chose to bury him.
It’s only seconds later when he comes back to reality, but it might as well have been hours with how it felt to be trapped in his own mind. The lingering taste of dirt in his mouth is a constant reminder of what happened, but the feeling of his mom’s arms wrapped around him to keep him still is enough to bring him back. The sound of her voice murmuring his name like a mantra ( Jungkook, Jungkook — it’s okay, Jungkook, you’re home ) gives him enough courage to open his eyes, finally tuning into what the nurse was saying, explaining how this is a common occurrence for many of the disease sufferers.
He still feels shaken by the experience, apparent by the tremor of his hands. His eyes hesitantly trail to his brother who pushes himself off of the chair with a scoff in his direction. Jungkook feels like he’ll never escape the looks of sympathy when the nurse also joins his mother with soft eyes and reassures that Junghyun will come to terms with his condition with time.
Jungkook doesn’t feel reassured, but he thanks the nurse anyway and stays silent as his mother shows her to the door.
His mother claps her hands together and helps ease him off from the couch, informing him that she made his favorite food for dinner in honor of him coming home.
Jungkook tries his best to give his mother a grateful smile, but it doesn’t make his next words any easier. “I don’t — can’t , really — eat anymore.” Her face falls at his words and Jungkook feels his heart drop. It was all in the manual she was given, but with so much on her mind, he doesn’t blame her for forgetting, or trying to make them feel like a normal family again. “But I can still sit with you?” He quickly finishes, a hopeful lilt to his voice.
She still serves him a plate of the food she made when he takes his old spot across from his mother at the table, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to pretend to eat the food in front of him. Conversation is kept light between them until his mother snaps at Junghyun who storms out without touching his plate, his words trailing behind him; “Not until that thing leaves.”
Jungkook immediately stands from his seat at the table, more than ready to give up his spot for his younger brother. Despite his mother’s instant request for him to sit back down, he retires upstairs with the claim of being tired.
Jungkook’s bones feel heavy as he treads up the steps, the weight of the day finally hitting him at full force. His brother stops him at the top step, and Jungkook is quick to listen, startled that Junghyun is finally acknowledging his existence beyond ‘that thing’ .
“Taehyung came back a while ago.” And as an afterthought, “Mom told me not to tell you.”
Junghyun was gone in blink, leaving Jungkook unsure of how to feel. Taehyung was back, and his brother still cared enough to tell him so. He couldn’t help the hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of his lips; Junghyun always was the one covering for him and Taehyung when they got into trouble. He knows in the back of his mind that Junghyun only told him to spite their mother for bringing him back, but either way, Jungkook can remember the feeling of warmth prodding at his stomach and it’s almost like it’s there — happiness.
Jungkook washes the foundation from his face and removes the contacts from his eyes, a harsh reminder of what he really is staring back at him. It’s not easy for him to look at his reflection, his dark hair making his deathly pale skin look even worse. He grips the sides of the bathroom counter, eyes squeezed shut as he struggles to calm his mind down.
It’s only ten when he gives up on sleeping, slipping his jacket back on over his shirt. He doesn’t bother with makeup and contacts — the chance of someone being out at that time was unlikely, and it would be too dark for anyone to see him unless they were up close. He’s hesitant to climb down from his window as he used to do to sneak out before he died, worried about waking his mother, but it isn’t enough to discourage him. He knew it would be cruel of him if his mother woke up and was unable to find him; it would be too much of a reminder of the day she lost her son. It still isn’t enough to satiate the itch to leave the house.
He leaves through the window and hugs his jacket closer to him, though it’s not as if he can feel the nip of the chilly air against his skin. He slipped on the jacket out of instinct — even death couldn’t shake him of that habit, his mother’s voice from all those years ago ringing in the back of his mind to remind him to stay bundled up in these winter nights.
Jungkook momentarily stops on the sidewalk in front of Taehyung’s house, eyes instinctively moving to stare at the window of his room. Too many memories flood his mind as he remembers everything they went through and everything they lost and it’s too much. He speeds up his steps.
The woods were much more scary when he was alive, he thinks to himself. The fear that he experienced while he was alive was always the uncertainty of death; but now that Jungkook had been through it, he didn’t feel so scared (but if he jumps at the sound of an animal jumping into a nearby bush, no one is around to witness it).
He stumbles upon the cave - their cave - in record time, ducking through the entrance. It looks just as he remembers it, candles and matches scattered along the ground. The moon is nearly full, allowing the entrance to be exposed to the soft light. It makes for a strange mood, Jungkook’s stomach churning at the sight.
He lights one of the candles for old time’s sake, settling on the makeshift pillow-seat and rests his head back against the hard stone. He’s so caught up in thoughts and memories and the overwhelming feeling of it all that when an all too familiar voice rings through the cave, he feels like he jumps nearly a foot into the air.
Jungkook lets an eye creep open, suddenly regretting not painting his face and putting in his contacts again. He loses his voice as soon as he sees the matured face of his old best friend, a lump forming in his throat.
“Jungkook?” Taehyung repeats, quiet, but the shaking in his voice still audible. “God - you look just like you did when I found you — fuckin’ scared me .”
And that’s when the guilt washes over Jungkook. He instantaneously crumbles in his spot, head coming to rest on his knees as he hid his face. He’s not even sure if he’s physically able to muster up the tears to cry, but the breaths which were turning into wheezes are enough of an indication that if he could, they would be streaming down his face at full force. He had hardly any time to mourn after he was put on the medication, and the sight of Taehyung triggered something inside of him and he wasn’t able to calm down.
Jungkook can’t imagine how Taehyung must have felt, strolling into their special spot to see his best friend bleeding out, possibly already dead. It makes it worse knowing that he, of all people, was the one to find Jungkook’s dead body, but that’s Jungkook’s fault for ending it there of all places. He should’ve known better. Better than to do it there, better than to do it at all.
Jungkook tries to spare a glance at Taehyung, who looks like he’s fighting a war of his own in his mind. Before Jungkook knows it, Taehyung’s voice sharply cuts through the air, and though Jungkook can’t bear to lift his head from his knees, Taehyung has his full attention behind the muffled sound of crying.
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? I didn’t come back here for three days - three days after the fight, Jungkook. Everyone thought you ran away, maybe with me, but I knew you would be here. When I finally got here you were already long gone and there was no hope.” Taehyung sounds so choked up by his own words, a hand coming to rest on Jungkook’s cold arm, as if to reassure himself that this was real. Jungkook immediately shrugs Taehyung’s touch off of him, his only thought being that he doesn’t deserve it — whatever it is; not after what he did to the older boy. When his sobs grow louder, Taehyung doesn’t point it out. “I hated myself for so long, and when they told me you were coming back… I couldn’t believe it.”
Jungkook is trying his best to find his voice and spill out the long apology he had unintentionally spent his time mentally composing on his walk, but it seems like an impossible task. It wouldn’t be enough — nothing would ever be enough to make up for what he did, and he knows that. The way Taehyung says his name stirs something inside of him, and he can’t help the shuddering breaths which sporadically escape from his lips.
“And God forbid you at least write a note to me — to your family . Junghyun was torn up for so long over losing his hyung, his role model. He blamed himself for not knowing, Jungkook. How could you leave us with no warning?”
Jungkook doesn’t have to look up to know that Taehyung is crying, the way his voice cracks at the end of his sentences is enough of a tell, but after seconds of working up the courage, he does. He meets Taehyung’s eyes which are swimming with emotions and Taehyung’s mouth suddenly shuts, cutting off the words that were about to fall from his lips.
He can see the way that Taehyung’s eyes travel over him, the way his gaze lingers the scar on Jungkook’s cheek for a second too long. Before he can stop himself, Jungkook is tackling Taehyung, arms firmly wrapped around his neck. He doesn’t want Taehyung to look at him like this, for who he really is now and takes the moment to not only hide his face in the crook of Taehyung’s neck, but to breathe in his scent and enjoy the few seconds he had before he was pushed off of Taehyung.
But Taehyung, with no hesitance, returns the gesture. Doesn’t make any move to get away from him.
Jungkook is mumbling ( I’m sorry, I’m Sorry, I’m sorry -) and Taehyung is crying into Jungkook’s hair. It’s not an ideal scenario, it’s uncomfortable and Taehyung is starting to get snot in his hair — but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to care or make a fuss over it. Even though Jungkook had been dead for four years - technically undead for a good three years of those - he missed Taehyung just as he would if he had been alive for all of those years.
Jungkook pulls away first, more than embarrassed by his sudden breakdown upon seeing Taehyung. As much as he wants to study every inch of Taehyung, note all the changes, he keeps his eyes averted from Taehyung and leans back against the wall of the cave. He knows that this is who he is now - paperwhite skin, colorless eyes and blue lips - but he had been conditioned for so long being told that it was unnatural and he needed to wear all the cosmetics in order to be normal and fit in.
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook chokes out, trying to hide his face in his hands. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”
Taehyung suddenly wraps his hands around Jungkook’s wrists, the skin exposed when the sleeves of his hoodie fell down. Jungkook stills as he realizes it, another shudder running through his body, but Taehyung has Jungkook’s wrists lowered in front of him, eyeing the gnarly, black scars and the stitches which held the long vertical line down each of his wrists shut.
Taehyung is silent, but Jungkook knows there are a million things he wants to say.
And Jungkook wants him to say them. He wants Taehyung to get mad at him again, tell him how awful it was of him to leave like that — because he knows. He knows how much of a mistake it was to do so, without reaching out for help, without even leaving a note as to why or say a final farewell. Jungkook isn’t even sure if he knows the reason why himself.
Jungkook knows that Taehyung won’t have the words to do so, already feeling the guilt from what he had said moments prior about himself and Jungkook’s family. He had too good of a heart — one of the many things Jungkook loves about his best friend, even if it sometimes put them in compromising situations in the past.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Taehyung eyes him curiously, gaze flitting between Jungkook’s wrists and his wide eyes.
“I know it was awful timing,” Jungkook stutters out as best as he can. If there is one thing Jungkook needs to get out before they parted ways, it was this. “It was never you. It was my own thing I was dealing with — and I know. I know I should’ve asked you for help or talked to someone. But it was never your fault.”
When Taehyung opens his mouth, tear streaks still visible on his cheeks, Jungkook cuts him off. “Don’t you dare say it’s okay. It wasn’t okay, and it will never be okay. I am so, so sorry, for what I did.”
Taehyung drops Jungkook’s wrists and wordlessly crawls to sit on the pillow beside Jungkook. He keeps his gaze averted from Jungkook, but rests his head on the other’s shoulder. Just like old times , Jungkook thinks almost bitterly. “You’re right,” Taehyung’s words are mumbled together, barely coherent if it wasn’t for the dead silence. “It’s not, but… You’re here now. And I missed you. We can talk about the rest later.”
Jungkook allows himself to be selfish for this one time, even if he thinks he doesn’t he deserves it. There’s still so much to be sorted out between the two boys, but for now, he can only focus on the feeling of Taehyung. He leans into older boy’s touch, his words a soft murmur. “I missed you, too, Tae.”