Taehyung had finally settled on the couch. The history channel droned on and on, but Taehyung's eyes never moved from the screen. He was intent on knowing what was going on and what happened.

It had been trouble enough getting him to the damn apartment. He wanted to study everything, even though he was clutching at Yoongi's arms in fear. Cars were terrifying, how did they work? What on earth are people wearing these days? Where are all the trees? What kind of riches must people have to build such structures? (They were just houses.)

When Yoongi had suggested tv Taehyung had stared at him blankly. Yoongi wanted to smack himself and just turned it on, much to Tae's horror. The boy had practically shrieked, vaulting himself over the back of the couch to land in a crouch, cowering away from the light and sound it gave off.

Yoongi had knelt down in front of him. "Taehyung, it's okay, I promise. It's just a cartoon."

"I don't know what that is." Tae breathed steadily.

"You're supposed to watch it. It's like a play, but drawn. I could turn on the history channel? That doesn't have cartoons."

"I like history." He succeeded.

Yoongi took Tae's hand, leading him to sit on the couch and taking up the remote. Currently, the channel was exploring the hidden reasons behind World War II or something. I left him with one last warning.

"Everything it talks about is already over, okay? It's finished and done with." I explained. "Now I have to go work on some things, I'll be in my room okay?"

He nodded, already fascinated by the scenes displayed.

_________________________________________

Hours later, I emerged. My pictures were refined, the sketches stored away in a portfolio folder and my report for work was saved on my laptop. I'd almost forgotten the statue in my living room. Except how do you forget a statue that's breathing in your living room? Exactly, it was pushed to the back of my mind, but it was there.

I made my way down the hall to the kitchen, planning to hear up some leftovers for dinner, but instead I heard sniffling.

"Y-Yoongi!" Taehyung was crouched beneath my kitchen table, history channel droning on in the living room.

"TaeTae, what's wrong?" I asked, carefully moving aside a chair and kneeling in front of him.

He crawled out and threw himself into me, wrapping his arms around me and knocking the pair of us to the ground. I groaned and pushed him off of me. He just kept grabbing onto me.

"Taehyung." I swatted his hands away from me and got to my knees. "What did you see?"

"Yongho," Taehyung sobbed. "He's dead. Isn't he? He can't have lived through all of that and not come for me."

It had never occurred to me that he would think of that. I never thought about it myself. None of my friends ever came to me in this state. There was a role we all played in our friend group. I was never the mom, that was Jin. We'd all go to Jin in this state. And Jin had Namjoon when he got like this. I didn't know how to comfort him and it was the second time in one day I found myself cradling him in my arms.

"I can't imagine that he's a statue somewhere else. But I have no idea, Taehyung, I'm so sorry." I whisper.

I pushed him off of me yet again and held his face in my hands. "Let's get you to sleep TaeTae. You need to rest."

"No." He mumbled. "I've slept for thousands of years apparently. I think I'm all stocked up on sleep."

"Then lay down until I have dinner ready? It'll be ten minutes."

He harumphed at me, but got up and waddled towards the couch.

"No, my bed." I called.

And he redirected himself down the hall I'd come through, closing the door behind him. I took him a glass of water and left it on the nightstand. He had his back to me, refusing to acknowledge that I was there. So, I draped a blanket over his shoulders and left.

I reheated one plate of food and left another in the microwave. Then, I sat myself on the couch and switched the channels until I found something worthy of background noise. I'd only change it when the ads started to annoy me. I waited  there and ate my food, straining my ears to hear Taehyung. His breathing, his crying. But he made no sounds. I smiled, trusting that he'd finally managed to fall asleep.