Italics- flashbacks or phone calls.

"'𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓,’ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆𝒕𝒚, 𝒓𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓, 𝒈𝒐 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓."

-𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆, '𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝑫𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝑬𝒏𝒅: 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑹𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒂𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒔'.

Jimin

"Kookie?"

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real, this couldn't...it couldn't be-

"Who are you?"

No. No, he couldn't be, not now, not after everything that had happened. "Please, don't leave, please, for the love of God...please...stay with me-"

***

Jimin choked out a breath, swallowing the putrid fear that threatened to consume his consciousness. Pervaded in desultory tremors, his body shook repeatedly with voltaic bolts of electrical energy while his chest heaved in painful wake and while the nerves lining the tips of his extremities tingled unwelcomingly, and restlessly. He didn't want to recall this, nor did he want to take almost a foolhardy step into the destitute he dared to call his memories but...he knew, to face what was to come, Jimin couldn't hold back what he'd spent all this time trying to conceal. Even if it meant jumping straight into the deepest part of his mind.

He closed his eyes, once more.

***

"Jungkook...say something...please..."

He said nothing. He didn't move, he didn't blink, he revealed no signs of recognition or recollection. He said nothing, and did absolutely nothing, those large dark eyes now just an empty space and chasm. Jimin, who's tears had fallen and were falling, now had his hands desperately cupping the bionic's face, trying to incite anything to bring him back to comprehension. Jungkook remained stagnant, his gaze wayward and past impending focus despite the blonde man's furious tries to arouse any possible and underlying memories. But, those pupils remained ever constricted. And that was the most painful part of it all. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes, that'd once been brimming with wonderous feeling and alacrity were now gone. Lost, maybe forever: the man who he'd known, who he'd had fallen in love with, the one who Jimin had dared to call 'the one'.

Not yet. Just a little more time. Eyes sore and weary, Jimin's next actions were as tentative and yet violent as he could've managed. He'd always known with somewhat certainty that this happening could've been a possibility but Jimin had never lingered around it, and that was only because his brain always woke him up before such horrific imagination covered his mind. And now he was seeing it, something his eyes wouldn't ever be able to erase.
The adrenaline flew over his veins like a carp through a river, but he couldn't move a single muscle, not even to scream. The absolute and putrid panic completely paralyzed him, and the more he thought about running away, or simply moving a bit, the more he felt discouraged and utterly terrified.
He hadn't remembered being this scared in his life.

And that was just the beginning, the mere fact was that it was actually happening. The idea only made it worse. If that was even possible. Fear is as ubiquitous as sunlight on cracked streets, and Jimin had always known this. But, reality really was so...incredibly...

Horrific.

"Jungkook...please-" he whispered, his voice only audible for the bionic to hear, only enough to fill his insides with something other than the on surge of creeping apathy.

"I..."

"Jungkook?"

The younger's voice came out scratchy, as if he'd never spoken a word or made a sound ever in his life. "Is...are you okay? I can sense fluctuating and increasing levels of...stress," Jungkook croaked, his voice wavering to both Jimin's confusion and advantage. He sounded so unsure, and as a bionic that couldn't make a single ounce of sense. "No, I...sir, why-"

Could he be? "What? What is it?" Jimin urged, his feeble replies seemingly drowned out by his own cries.

"...why are you doing that?"

"...huh?"

"That. What does that mean?" Jungkook queeried, his response levelling and becoming more of the norm. Becoming further and further away.

Jimin spluttered, the entire weight of everything he'd been trying to deny finally falling and sinking through to his soul, the culmination of his being tainted with future prospects. And so, he felt what little energy he had drain from his toes before he too sank to the floor with his fingers still clutching Jungkook's wrists. "These...these are tears. I'm...crying."

"You exude water from your eyes when you're feeling, overwhelmingly stressed?"

"Yes," the older whispered, "we...humans, do. We can cry, w...when we're upset or angry. Or...h-happy."

The bionic paused. "Are those tears happy tears?"

The silence that followed from the bionic's question was no longer mentally examined and instead was welcomed, because it allowed the older man to completely melt into his own pool of meloncholia.

"...no. They're not."

***

No more. For now. The tiny voice screamed from the back of his mind to stop the torture, so Jimin did. For a while he stood still and unmoving, mainly to process everything which he'd just done because of his own judgment, and he wondered if reliving that particular memory really had been such a good idea. Although, there was no use in pondering about it now, but the fact of the matter was that Jimin maybe could maybe now bare what was to happen next if he was finally able overcome one of the biggest challenges he'd previously tried to discard in the past.

Maybe, not right away was he prepared for the next challenge just yet. But then again, in this exact moment he didn't really have a choice.

He was already there, stood face to face with the rustic brown-painted, sliding door, and with the 'Open' sign written in rough calligraphy across a black board in white chalk. The windows from the outside shed a mellow golden glow, strewn fairy lights which lined both the sills and dividers between tables responsible for exhaling such a pleasant and homely aura into the cold October streets, like how one would puff out warm condensation. In comparison to the rest of the neighborhood, this tiny, little café exuded such openness and familiarity and somewhere inside, Jimin hated that this place only remained to thrive after everything that had happened to its' ex-employee. He couldn't, shouldn't, hold it against anyone here, and honestly it probably was down to his building negativity but Jimin still felt incredibly uneasy.

And he had every right to. He was about to meet the man who'd cryptically left his phone number on a singular scrap of paper at his home, of who Jimin had never met before but who knew Jimin, and who claimed was able to fix everything.

Was he really doing this? And, was it even worth it?

"Excuse me?"

"Hm? O-oh, sorry-" Jimin mumbled, before stepping aside and allowing the couple to pass into the café. How long had he been standing there? Rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, Jimin relieved the itching from his hot tears and sucked in: a long, much needed gasp of air before mustering up his strength to step forwards and into the café.

The strength of the aroma of both coffee and cakes intoxicated Jimin within mere seconds, as well as the uproar of the incoherent chatter amongst and between customers, and it took a lot more than Jimin had realized to swallow his uncertainty and to march into the café with his head definitely held low. What could he say? One step at a time, right...what had the guy said over the phone? The table in the far left corner. As Jimin weaved through miniscule crowds of blurred faces, barely avoiding the closeness and proximity between foreign bodies and the occasional smear of spilt food on the floor, he scanned the back until his eyes found itself landing over a figure who Jimin could only assume had to be...him.

He sauntered over, his footsteps hesitant and vicariously precise, and then Jimin slid into the brown-leathered booth before silently exhaling. He didn't dare to look up. His thoughts were at that moment unrelenting and barmy, senseless and calamitous, and until the stranger made any sort of motion to speak Jimin sure as hell wasn't going to.

But, the stranger said nothing. Jimin had been so adamant on keeping his eyes to his hands which rested on his lap, but to some degree the silence was more ominous than anything else. So, sparing a glance upwards, Jimin finally took in the figure who sat opposite him, and who was also staring down the smaller man with an unrecognisable mien. Broad shoulders. A khaki, beige trenchcoat, which had been folded in half and neatly aligned with the cushion seams, and was collectively paired with a loose white blouse. Soft features amidts a strong jawline.

And, pink hair. "Park Jimin."

The stranger spoke, the words rolling off of his tongue pronounced, and smooth. Jimin squeezed his lips together, and nodded in response. "Y...yeah...you're...?"

Shaking his head swiftly, the taller man leaned onto his elbows, his gaze never wavering and remaining strong. "Did you find the café alright?"

"A...um, alright, as in-?"

"Did you find it easily?"

"Y-yes...it wasn't...I mean, I've been here, before," Jimin stuttered, only now suddenly aware of the consequence of his own determination. "But, you knew that." Again, the stranger said nothing, and did nothing to indicate a response towards Jimin's assumption. Who was this man? If he really did know about Jungkook, and about who he was and about everything that he'd unwillingly partaken in, then...did he know about...their relationship? "I-I'm sorry, but, who are you? How do you know who I am?"

The taller man's eyes thinned, narrowed. "I'm just going to get straight to the point."

"What's your name?! You're-" Jimin stopped midsentence, before eyeing his surroundings and finishing in an ushered tone of voice, "...you are, y'know...'J'? Right?"

"I wouldn't have made any sort of indication to involve someone who already had 'out'," the stranger carried on, Jimin's apparently distress doing nothing to faze him or his objectivity, "unless it was absolutely necessary. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I-I...you...no, I really don't!" Jimin exasperated, his whispers scratchy and harsh through clenched teeth. Did this guy think he was above himself and everyone here? Jimin's growing detest for this man grew by the second, his statue-like composure and unnerving presence only deepening the smaller man's restlessness. "Unless, you say who the hell you are-"

"It's been two years."

"Y...what?"

"Not just for you," he stated, his words firm and his shoulders braced back. Although the rigidity, and coldness, in his stare hadn't faultered Jimin caught a glimmer of something else and for a brief period of time he was certain that perhaps that fleeting something had been, underlying vulnerability. "For me, too."

Mouth presumably agape, Jimin did nothing to hide both his perplexion but also his rising sceptisism, and in return he too leaned over onto his elbows in what he thought to be was equitable stupefaction. "What...does that even mean? You're not, not making any sense-"

"It will, when or if I explain later," the stranger interrupted. Jimin wanted to cut him off there and further try to imply what he exactly meant by that, but somehow the seriousness in his voice had heightened, and instead he stayed quiet. "I can't stay long. Depending on your answer, you'll find out. But, again, that's up to you."

"What? What is?"

"Are you in," he stated, almost demanded, his pupils vastly constricted and his lips clamped together once his words left his tongue, "or, out?"

Jimin swallowed. He had a feeling, an inkling, as to what the stranger was trying to infer, but... "I-I don't...you mean-"

"It's not a difficult question," he interrupted, his sigh reaching his pink bangs which tossled ever so slightly after the stranger blew out, "and this'll be the last time I see you."

"I can't just...call, again?" O-or you could-"

"No. Just being here, this location, is pushing it."

"But, you were the one who-"

"Are you in?" he asked, once again, his expression this time importunate and icy. "Or out?" It was excessively unsettling, that was, the strangers gaze. It never moved from Jimin, never wavered, and Jimin was sure if this was for a reason or if this was jusr how he was. Jimin couldn't tell from this angle whether or not 'J' had a tattoo on his neck because the sides of his neck were hidden underneath a white collar, and because the stranger had done nothing but faced forwards. His attitude was obscenely bionic-like, inhumane, so Jimin wasn't even sure if 'J' was a bionic or human. Jimin thought...he really thought that he'd be in. After his row with Yoongi, Jimin had been sure, certain even, that he was truly...'ready'.

But, the truth was, he was terrified to the core. Sitting there face to face with the only gateway back into the world that had destroyed his own, Jimin found himself suddenly unable to breathe, and the sweat which had been building from beneath his palms only made matters even more grim: a real, and true, reminder of the actuality which was the state of his wellbeing. Was he really, really, able to do this? Could he swear to himself and others, that he'd be reliable enough, or instead a liability? The real question was, which sounded more believable?

Jimin was already sure, that he knew the answer to that question. 'J' sighed once again, and the sound of rustling of fabric against fabric grounded Jimin once again. As he knew it, the taller man had suddenly found himself standing before Jimin with his trenchcoat on, and any sense of friendliness off. "If you decide to be 'in', then this won't be the last time I see you. But, if you're 'out', then," 'J' voiced, before he briefly and almost too subtley nodded his head, his eyes momentarily closing before his sharp pupils found Jimin's once again, "then, I hope things go well for you, and I wish you luck."

Then, he turned, and walked away.

***
Again, I'm sorry for not being able to update last week again. Any of you who saw my wall, my friend came over for the weekend and we basically needed to catch up. Emphasis on need.
So, for the next couple weeks I'm working 6 days a week and ya know what that means. The likelihood of me publishing on time next week will be equally as low as it was this week!

Because, I'm exhausted.

I may go back and edit this later when I'm not dying. I haven't proofread this either so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out.

I'm gonna go sleep.

----> had to republish this chapter because not all of it was loading