Not the Time | drabble
member: Taehyung-centric | mentions of Seokjin genre: angst rating: pg-15 t/w: death
wherein Taehyung is the grim reaper.
Taehyung’s grip on his scythe tightened as he watched the next person he was supposed to welcome. The man was over-joyous, filled with life and happiness, as he kissed his wife goodbye. His child, barely able to walk without stumbling, had stood up shakily. The man reached down to catch him after he managed to take a few steps. Taehyung could hear their laughter from where he stood, light and genuine. He glanced down at his wrist—the minute timer etched onto his rotting skin determined the amount of time he had before it was time to guide a soul to the gates. It was not moving yet.
15:00
The man finally left his house, finally got into his car, and finally began his journey to work. The timer began. Taehyung sat in the back seat, admiring the little details of life that people never noticed. To have a preferred route to work where there were more trees and less houses. To change the radio station often but finally settling on switching it off, rolling down the windows instead. To prefer leaving the house way before time to not have to succumb to rushing around. Taehyung was then sitting in the front seat, full on examining this man. Even though he was what people deemed the ‘Grim Reaper’, he could feel what it was like to live.
9:19
Taehyung wasn’t surprised when the man pulled up to the train station, immediately finding an empty parking spot. Driving to his office would surely take more time than taking public transport. He followed closely behind the man as he scanned his card and walked through the turnstile. Was this where he would have a heart attack? Accidentally fall onto the tracks? That’s the only thing that irked Taehyung about his job—his instructions were so vague that he always needed to follow them around until the timer stopped. Before going to the platform, the man went to a vending machine to grab a can of coffee. Taehyung almost smiled when the man cussed for not having enough change in his wallet. Suddenly, the man’s phone rang.
5:26
It was the first time for Taehyung to be confused as he worked. He knew his target, had scanned through his whole life before coming to down. He was a part of Death, he was the creation of God, and he didn’t have the ability to feel like a mortal. But he was confused as he found himself sitting in the back seat of the man’s car again. This time, the radio was blasting and the man was speeding back, he assumed, home. He hadn’t caught the conversation he had with the caller. Taehyung only remembered the wild eyes, the sudden break of sweat, the frantic movements to push past the crowded station. He watched now as tears burst from the man’s eyes. Taehyung stared at the road and heard thunder even though the sky was clear. He glanced down at his wrist.
0:59
The scene at his house was chaotic. A woman’s anguished screaming—his wife, his wife who not long ago was gentle and calm and happy. Taehyung stepped hesitantly into the house, rethinking his task. He worked around the idea that… but it couldn’t be possible. How could Death deceive him? The man followed the voice upstairs to find his wife clawing at a door, nails and fingers tinted red. He pushed his wife aside forcefully and began kicking the door. Taehyung stood behind them, watching, anticipating. His scythe began to glow as the person’s life tugged on its line.
0:23
It felt like a long time before the door burst open. It revealed the little boy face-down in the bathtub, unmoving. His wife immediately pushed past her husband, scrambling to pull the small thing out of the water. She howled, “Seokjin, Seokjin, do something.” But the man had frozen. He could only sputter.
0:18
Taehyung deadpanned, unable to understand their turmoil. He just needed to do his job; he momentarily wondered why Death had given him the wrong man to follow. So, he waited until the boy’s heartbeats began to slow before he stepped around the petrified man and into the bathroom. Taehyung removed the hood of his cloak, baring his half rotten face, waiting to greet the tiny soul that would soon flutter from the boy.
0:12
A disorientated grunt, a stumble, and a fall. The man, Seokjin, had crumbled to the ground. His wife, clutching the cold boy to her chest, did not notice. Her panting grew deeper but her tears had stopped. Taehyung felt the life, the love and the joy and the contentment that he had witnessed in the family before, dwindle down like a candle’s flame on its last breaths. He cracked his neck and knelt next to the woman. The scythe now burned in his grip.
0:05
0:04
0:03
0:02
Finally, a sob from Seokjin.
0:01
The child’s heart thumped. Once. Twice. Then there was silence.
0:00
Taehyung smiled at the floating soul that materialised in front of him and offered him his hand. The little boy smiled back before taking it.