shot glass for the tears (drink, say cheers)

It’s deafeningly quiet, and Taehyung wants to shove his fingers in his ears and stop the all-consuming nothinging echoing all around him. He’s flat on his back on his bed on top of the covers, swathed in an oversized hoodie and soft sweatpants, and although it’s not very cold, it feels like he’s chilled to the bone and will never be warm again. He sniffles and turns onto his side, wrapping his arms about himself in some semblance of a hug to give himself the contact he craves. It doesn’t work. No matter how many times he tries, he can never trick his brain into thinking that someone else is there with him, holding him close, sharing warmth, keeping him safe.