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˚ ༘💎 ⋆｡˚𝗕𝗮𝗿 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁˚ ༘💎 ⋆｡˚

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𝗤𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲. 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗮 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 *𝗩𝗢𝗧𝗘* 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸. *𝗩𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲*

𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 '⭐️'

✨️💎🔸️🔹️💎🔸️🔹️💎🔸️🔹️💎🔸️🔹️💎✨️

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚🔹️◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷🔹️˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Note: Mentions of drugs. Reader's discretion advised.

1 year later.....

"And cut!" the renowned director, Mr. Choi exclaimed at having been content with today's shoot. The latter starring the contemporary trailblazer of the hip hop scene.

"Jungkook, the pictures are marvelous. You're sure you never thought about modelling? That chiseled chin is as sharp as your rapping skills, mate." Mr. Choi showered approbations on the young rapper who had become a sensation not only for his art but also his divinely sculptured lineaments as well.

"Haha Mr. Choi I just try to give my best at what I do. It's nothing like that" Jungkook smiled courteously. Always being the humble and down to earth man that he was. Still adhering to his chivalrous roots.

Today he was shooting for the cover page of a famous hip hop magazine. To grace the cover page of which was considered as zenith to even the well established rappers, a pipe dream to neophyte ones.

Yes. Your eternal altruistic stilts to his dream now bore fruit. His career flourishing like a candy filled piñata. Success oozing out all at once. That too, in abundance. The candies which were the grace of your munificence. Your love which you harboured for him all through these years.

It was like your ocean of love towards him had now alchemized as hedonistic happiness in his life. The vicarious wealth you two joked about now became a reality for him.

But money only bought pleasure, not happiness.

His happiness, his soul, his breaths and heartbeats were still anchored on yours. Rapping only hollowed the void which you had left. He was existing, not living. Cause his life had been in ransom, in you.

Jungkook was at pinnacle of success in spotlight.

Topping every chart that existed to measure his laconic rapping skills. But the lack of your love pierced his flesh every second.

Ironically, he was at nadir of his existence.

He would wear this cloak of fulfillment in public while he filled glasses of despair and drank them till wee hours until they anaesthetize his sorrow. Till only your visage clouded his hallucinations.

He was still waiting, kicking his heels everyday. His soul always being anxious of your fated advent. Being pertinacious that one day, you would embrace him and coax him that this all was a nightmare.

Against logic, against commitment, against tranquility, against optimism, against joy, against every discouraging whisper, his love endured, unwavering and steadfast.

Whenever the rancour became insufferable he'd convert it to palpable pain, by getting the derm of his skin embossed with ink. Each artwork being in your honour- your initials, your birth flower, your time of birth, your favourite lyrics, your zodiac sign. The masochism added meaning to his physical being which he was holding by a thread- your existence.

He strived hard for rapping only in reverence of your assiduous support and love which he was so beholden to. He wanted to make you proud, anywhere you were. Wherever you were.

"Shawty, I love you so much. My baby" he'd chant to himself every night as crystals of his longing would bedew the diamond ring, held in a chain that he wreathed around his neck everyday.

Like an insignia of his love for you. Keeping you close to his pulse, which only was stable at the thought of you.

You on the other hand, were not quite different. Making ends meet like the soulless cadaver you had become. Devoid of your solace, your J.

"J am so proud of you, my baby" you would eulogize as you softly kissed his face on the pictures of his newly launched projects, magazines he'd cover for, the albums he put out, the brands he endorsed. Being his allegiant fangirl since day one. The very first member of a fandom which was his existence.

Cuddling yourself with misery and solitude instead. Hiccupping cries of yearning as your heart became frozen in the ice cage bereft of his warmth, his love.

You kept up with all his works, hopeful that he had finally moved on and proudly traversed on the path of roses you'd had paved just for him. Even if he had to trample over your love laden heart to reach his dream, his destination. You'd gladly let him do so. And so you did.

But unbeknownst to you, the tenacious lad was just like you, your twin flame he was.

"I can't remember to forget you my love"

A man of words he was.

Words that turned into actions. Every other week he'd bestride his Harley and drive to your place, to witness you entering your house safely. A house which was once your two's home. Two hearts in one home, beated just for each other.

Until one day, he found out from your neighbour that you had moved out. A day, where his lifeless heart was gripped out of his chest.

A day, when he just couldn't take it anymore. Sitting on the bed like the loveless corpse he had become, he injected the needle of antidote to his pain, his existence. Narcotizing his perished soul which yearned for you.

The very antidote Namjoon exhorted him to take, in wake of making him an unbeatable lyrical poet. Claiming injecting drugs will aid him pump even more protean works. Help him reach that psychedelic state where inspiration struck the most.

But alas, his emotions had made him resort to the supposed vice as a remedy of his hapless pathos, lulling him out of his throes.

The diamond ring still glimmering in the darkness of his life around his pulse, which surged with drug in his blood. Still keeping him alive.

But till when?