❝ the chromatic world you see❞

home: or tombstone?

──

The wheel of time unconventionally moved slower than usual for Jungkook, while he accommodated himself into the luxurious car, thinking and thinking until he grew tired. The car ride was silent enough to hear the trees grow roots, and listen to the melody of turtles. And the silence asked him countless questions he could never answer to.

The responsibility burrowed inside him since his childhood couldn't differentiate the gravity of the cases he solved before, and the cases he is now supposed to solve. To unveil the secrets of the woman who flipped their lives down. The secrets probably only the dead must have heard, he was awake all night waiting for the chance to let the light dawn upon them, but rather now, his curiosity checked out, and rather fear consumed him. 

'Every man has his own story,' Jimin always told him. 'And those whose stories were heard became the heroes, and those whose stories were buried became the villains.' He remembered. What if the story he is going to hear is of the villain? Jungkook was always the man who was wary of the depth of the lake. He doesn't want to leap in without knowing how long it's going to take his legs to reach the ground or worse, never reach the end at all.

"We have arrived sir," A grown man's voice pulled him out of his trance. He nodded his head and waited for the door to be opened for him. He trudged his way to the airport, and his feet screeched on the ceramic tile like a lead paint giving life to an artist's canvas. 

The fear of the unknown is the deadliest fear known to mankind, and as a man who thrives in crimes and mysteries, it is something jungkook deals with every day like a routine. Mystery has dissolved inside his blood like oxygen and he is going to solve the biggest one he has ever come across.

"For better or for worse," he murmured under his breath.

***

Jin has been stuck inside this room ever since he received this photograph. A wave he wanted to drown inside the ocean, as it may never reach anyone so they never get reminded of her. 

"Blaze had this picture always hidden in the locker, so I stole it and brought it to you," Grayson handed out the portrait, the unsaturated tint corroded his skin cells as he handed out the picture. The rise and fall of his heartbeat were like the ocean tides descending and ascending towards the moon.

The concept and perception of murder were always relative. If an innocent man, untainted by devious thoughts were to be wronged by a person whom they poured their heart and trust into were to be murdered, will it entitle the murderer a savior? if the murderer was the innocent man himself, would it justify his actions? To right a wrong, is murder the finite solution? To judge and bestow a sentence, is any man worthy of it?

Murder and killing could never be justified. A loophole swirls around infinitely when it comes to pondering death and justice. And that is why Jin knows he is not a good person. And nothing is scarier than who has been divined that he is immoral, and sails with his 'obligation' without guilt.

Vivian. Innocence had occupied the pores of her skin, and dents of her flesh, corroding her bones. White wan skin and her dusk black hair always had the fragrance of white roses that contrasted the night curtain and blended with her unpigmented flesh. The picture of Vivian glued to his fingers and stopped his blood flow.

"Good work, Grayson," Jin said, his tone not following his words.  Grayson nodded his head slightly, giving him a sign he heard his low voice. Not in the slightest Jin seemed amused. The more he gazed into the photo, the more he felt like he was peeling an onion, going into his thoughts and peeling away every impossibility to come up with a solution and all he found were more peelings.

"Everything I created seems to fly away from my reach, Grayson. All these thoughts I am having, it is driving me crazy. To even think that this painting I made with cement and bricks might be destroyed one day makes me want to dig my nails inside the walls and never let them go. This is all I have, something that belongs to me, Grayson."

"I bled here, and I called it my home."

Grayson felt his breath stiffen up, afraid that the sound of his breathing would disturb the awful silence. "I feel like I am safe and sound inside my mother's womb when I am here, between these dreadful walls and luminescent ceilings. I won't allow my home to be taken from me, Grayson," he said. 

Grayson felt chills running down his spine when Jin's eyes penetrated his. Jin was a madman. Jin is a madman. How could anyone call this monstrous building, their home? He felt like he could throw up. Those words and sincerity blended together made the worst combination. Grayson has lost everything he owned in this place, his sanity, his innocence, his money. 

Grayson would rather call this his tombstone. Where one day, he might lose his soul and body too.

"Grayson, may I ask you one question?" Jin locked his eyes into Grayson's. He was absolutely disgusted to his core, that his tongue muscles couldn't even roll to muster up a word. He simply nodded his head again, Jin took the hint. 

"If you were to choose between me or her, who would you pick?"

Grayson was stunned. Now his mouth didn't move because of disgust, but rather surprise and fear. "Shall I answer for you?" He bent forward from his chair, staring right into Grayson's soul. The tension started brewing in the air and breathing felt heavy with all the suction of rigidity.

"Haha, loosen up, Grayson. That was barely a joke to lift up the seriousness," Jin smiled in a baffling way. 

For a moment he felt relieved but, he knew better than anyone that Jin would never just joke. 

──

❝ is boring ❞