replay

it’s raining again. i stand with the trashbag in my hand at the top of the street, and i feel like the whole world has been inverted and restored around me. 

am i supposed to be here? what about taehyung, what about the police station? i turn around and drop the bag, startled.

taehyung is sitting on the pavement. the rain slopes off the roof of the shallow porch and he’s soaked through, with wet hair and grey t-shirt clinging to his skin. he's watching me and i stop breathing like he's knocked the air out of my lungs.

“this already happened,” i laugh, not moving even though i’ve been staring at tae for too long― a minute? maybe― and now he’s staring back, like he thinks i’m crazy.

“excuse me?”

it must be a dream. (but if it is, don’t i want to fix things? do i have a chance?)

“what’s wrong?” taehyung asks, seeing my expression, but i cut him off.

“can i― please― is seokjin-sshi coming?”

“yeah, he said he was coming to pick us up. wh―”

“please, can you call him and tell him not to come? this is really important, please, please call him. tell him to pull over right now.”

he starts to open his mouth, baffled, but i flee his questions, running to the street and down the wet sidewalk, slipping once and scraping my knees but not really caring. my feet hurt and my heart is beating way too hard for a run this short. how long did i stand up there, staring down at my bare feet and taehyung’s blank face and trying to figure this out? it’s just a dream, but even dreams have a sense of time. sometimes. how much did i lose?

ahead, traffic sweeps by the bay. the hedge beside me prevents me from seeing up the hill where i know seokjin will be coming now if taehyung doesn’t call him. i’m stumbling into the line of sight of the street and almost beyond, almost slipping into traffic because i am anticipating jin’s accident and not my own.

a solid hand closes over my wrist and yanks me backwards. falling like my feet have been swept out from under me, i smash into taehyung and he wraps an arm around my stomach to catch me against his chest. i feel the damp of his shirt soak into my back even as he lets me go, turning me around and looking frantically from the traffic to me.

“are you out of your mind?” he demands. “you would have died! do you not understand what happens when a car hits a human being?”

“did you call seokjin?” i beg, turning my head to look up the hill, praying that he won’t be there.

"his phone’s not even ringing― i think it must be dead. why? what is this about?” even as he speaks, the sounds i heard last time explode behind me.

crunching metal

glass, shattering

the squeal of tires

a frustrated horn blast two blocks down

the sudden silence as the truck falls away

taehyung, with hands just pulling back from my shoulders, flinches instinctively to grab me and swing me away. i cover my ears with my hands so that i can’t hear myself scream and try to run towards the railing to see that somehow, things are different. he hangs onto me and makes sure we won’t be hit by cars before running out into the crosswalk, to the splintered guardrail on the far side. i see the truck on its side in the water and after that i crouch on the sidewalk and maybe i throw up in the grass or maybe i just imagine it. either way all i can think or say is that it’s a dream it’s a dream it’s a dream and i will wake up because it’s just a dream.

i keep my hands jammed over my ears, which is probably falling back on old childhood habits of coping with sensory overload. this time, taehyung stands beside me while i rock lightly on my heels, until someone comes up and speaks and i press down on my ears harder until i feel cool hands on my wrists. taehyung crouches in front of me and he’s crying, but he’s also speaking to me and i peel a sticky palm away half an inch to listen.

“we should go. we need to go home.”

i think he’s talking about them, the boys, and panic flushes up but he doesn’t let go of me and leave. “jungkook says we have to go.” he holds out his hand and i take it.

i measure my breathing and hold his hand hard as we walk back up through the warm, wet light. we sit in a corner of the kitchen floor, with his still-damp shoulder pressed up against mine. jungkook walks in circles, tracing the kitchen table with a single finger.

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