I remember crying once when I was five. When I was forced to watch my parents' body torn to shred. The memory was left imprinted in the back on my mind, and the scar it left can never heal, because every time the image of my parents' dead body comes back to me, the wounds open once again.

It has been a few days after the incident. Jeongguk and I are back to training, and we act as though nothing happened. Neither of us mention me crying on the way home. I am grateful for that.

We are currently on the couch, watching Silent Movie being played on the television. It is remotely quiet. The box that the old man gave me is lying untouched on the table. It has been in that position since we got back home.

I want to open it; I don't want to open it. My hands itch to open the box. I am curious about what is inside. But I am afraid. Not of insects possibly trapped inside, but facts. I'm afraid to find out facts I do not know about my family, my pack. Sometimes, facts hurt more than lies. I'd rather continue lying to myself.

"Taehyung? You seem distracted," Jeongguk hums. His voice is a contrast to his looks, yet it complements his looks well. His attentiveness makes me want to tell him how I feel lately. I keep quiet. Jeongguk isn't more than just a partner, it would be weird to tell him my problems.

"You want to open the box, but you're afraid to do it, aren't you?" He exposes me. I feel transparent and exposed when I'm with Jeongguk; My body curls, and my arms wrap around myself, kind of like an unbreakable gate that protects Jeongguk from prying into me. I stay quiet instead of replying him. Jeongguk sighs. He takes the box from the table, and places it on my lap with a huff.

"Open it. I'm here. You don't have to be afraid," He assures. I want to scream; to tell him I'm not afraid. But if I did, I would be lying.

My fingers work to twist the letch on the front of the box.

The air feels suffocating. I have difficulty breathing. Breathing—something I've been doing since birth. Yet it is hard to breathe. The air is too thick for me to inhale.

"Taehyung, breathe." I hear Jeongguk say, but his voice sounds muffled. Jeongguk's hand touches my back, and awkwardly but comfortingly pats me—Jeongguk. But even his touch feels weird to me. Like I've gone numb, and his touch feels too light. I start to wheeze. I can't breathe. My lungs burn from the lack of oxygen. The image of my parents' body flashes in my mind. It's not in front of me, but I can see it clearly.

"Help." The only word I can muster. My body slumps tiredly. Jeongguk hugs me and pats my head. His action is small, simple, yet I feel fine after it.

"You don't to open it now if you don't want to. I shouldn't have forced you. Sorry," He apologists. A pang of guilt hits me like a wreaking ball. It's not Jeongguk's fault, he shouldn't apologise. It not my fault either, I couldn't stop the attack because I did not understand what was happening until I was forced to watch my parents die. And it isn't my fault I do not have courage . . . or is it?

"It's not your fault." I force out. Talking is difficult and feels foreign when I lack oxygen. Jeongguk hugs me tighter, slightly squeezing my smaller frame. I let him do it.

We stay in the same position until I recover my breath.

+++

The next day during training, we spent six hours practicing our shooting. My fingers feel stiff from holding the gun for too long. Jimin offers me a drink, I accept it.

"How was break with Jeongguk?" He asks as I chug down the can of fizz. My hand squeezes the can. I want to yell at Jimin for reminding me of what happened. Then I remember he doesn't know about me receiving the letter, about how I almost lost my life if Jeongguk hadn't save me.

"It was fine," I reply. Jimin may be my best friend, but I do not feel like telling him about what happened last week. It's not that I want it to keep a secret from Jimin, but it's because I do not want Jimin recklessly risking his life for me, just like how I risked mine last week.

I think Jimin could tell I did not feeling like talking, because then he says, "Let's go back to my dormitory now. Before the dishes Yoongi brought for the both of us turns cold."

√a.n.

I'm having camp tomorrow. Yay?¿ I love 3 minutes bath time and having the leaders bang on our door until it opens, forcefully.
This is the last update I can give until I come back. Sorry. We're not allowed to use our phones. So I'll only be able to update on Saturday or Sunday.
Anyway, thank you for 10K votes