'𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚜: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛.'

- 𝚂ø𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚄𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑: 𝙰 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚄𝚙𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐

-side note, this song fucking jams man. for us n our depressi

Jimin

Who are we? Where do we come from? Why were we there? And, why are we here? With his fingers interlocked and resting a top his chest, Jimin felt his head swarming with boundless, existential thoughts. They riddled his mind, tainting his synapses, and he let them. Today was his day off. What else was he supposed to do? Go outside, fulfill activities of productivity, make the most of his day and feel unbelievably whole?

He didn't think so.

Laying here beneath jumbled blankets was all he could hope to do. He didn't even have the energy to stand, to shower, to eat or drink anything. This was all he deserved, to maybe wither away. Although it came wearily, Jimin managed to lift his wrist from his chest and sling his forearm over his eyes; he was within a dark room, and still the bisque light of day had managed to creep past the dust-caked edges of his drawn blinds, and it compelled his pupils to pain. Why did his body fight so hard to survive, when his mind wanted nothing more than to die? Was this such the way of human life? Why did he have to accept that? And why...why didn't he fight it?

...what did he have to do today? What did he really have to do, besides the urge to do nothing at all? Mark homework, revise his lesson plans, prepare the midterm exams...

"...mmph..." Rolling over onto his side, Jimin curled his body into a ball, clutching his hands to his middle and folding his sheets between his bare calves. He really didn't want to. This week was already too much to bare, and it was only Wednesday. Today was the day, the day of his outcome of his decision. Prying one eye open, the blurry canvas of his bleak and murky bedroom steadily came into focus, as did the crumpled side of paper which resided on top of his bedside dresser. Just one look at that tiny, fragile piece of the universe was somehow enough to send his heart thumping heavily against his ribcage. A miniscule shard of that strange, pink-haired man was enough to almost send him into a raging panic attack. If that paper was all it took to break him down, then Jimin wasn't even sure if he wanted to see him. The stranger, he meant...

...him?

"Jimin hyung..."

"NO!" he yelled, as his body impulsively lurched upward and his chest pulsed with his turmoil. Here, shaking and quivering, Jimin found himself clutching his quilts with a damp palm, whilst the other pressed deep into his thorax in attempt to shrink his uneven heaves. He couldn't breathe. Just...the thought of him, hurt so much. A single thought...what would it do to him, if he saw him? Here, unable to see him as clearly as he had maybe once before, Jimin found himself closing his eyes to impede the oncoming cascade of tears, before they fell down his hallowed cheeks. If he cried, he knew he'd have to accept his inability to carry on without him. Maybe, he had to try first.

***

"Thank you! Have a nice day!"

He turned away from the cashier, without a smile and without turning back around. She has her job, to serve her customers, and he has his. To ceaselessly remain without answers. It wasn't a harsh way of thinking, even by an optimists standards, but just his behaviourism. Who was he to fight it? He guessed the prolonged existence of his apathy has pulled out a calloused side of him, and Jimin no longer cared. The inkling of his old self would sometimes threaten to spark out every now and then, and he'd instead drown that tiny spark with his newer frame of thinking; Jimin wasn't proud of who he was becoming, and he was aware of how unhealthy he was. He was sick. He wasn't well, and he hadn't been for such a long time.

When your mind wants to demise, it's one of the most painful things to experience, besides losing a loved one. And, Jimin had experienced both, at the same time.

As he stepped into his car, he caught a glance of his reflection inside of the rear view mirror, and although it had been for less than a second, Jimin had had to swallow the hate for himself before turning on the engine. Why had that man changed him in so many ways, when he wasn't even here? Jimin's heart ached, and had been aching, and he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

He didn't want to be alone. He has no one.

He's alone.

***

He closed the door behind him, and slung his coat across the empty hospital bed. With flowers in hand, Jimin moved to the bedside table to remove the previous, now-wilting sunflowers, and to replace them with the red trumpet vines that he had picked out. For any particular reason? Jimin had always picked out the brightest flowers for his mother, but today...he couldn't feel her shining. He couldn't feel himself shining.

"Eomma, I-"

He couldn't look at her. Not like this. Not when she's like this, and he's...like this.

"I brought you more flowers. The sunflowers died so quickly, so...I picked out something a bit more long lasting...I think." Visiting her was hard. Especially, when she couldn't answer back. Or, open her eyes. "This week was the same, eomma. Well...for the most part, actually...do...do you remember..."

He breathed in, and closed his eyes. The encased smell and aroma of this hospital made him feel sick to his stomach. Besides his mother, who'd been induced into a coma a few months back, had remained almost lifelessly in this rickety, old, stupidly and unfairly uncomfortable hospital bed for so long without moving. Except, for the steady rise and fall of her chest, his mother was showing no signs of recovering. He didn't dare open his eyes. He didn't want to see her like this, not when she had been so...full of life.

"Eomma...do you remember my friend? The one who came to visit you for Christmas, with Jihyun and I?"

"..."

"...Jungkook...do you remember him?"

"..."

"W-well, it's been such a long time but, I remember how much you liked him. Do you remember? He was really shy when he met you for the first time, despite being a bionic, he...I-I sang for him in front of you both..." This was, so much harder than he initially anticipated. Speaking to his mother in spite of her inability to reply had become a regularity for Jimin, because he'd closed up so much as a person. Maybe being alone for so long had become the comfort for him, and in regards to opening up again...maybe talking to the person who he loved the most in the world, who cannot talk back, is the next step to emotional freedom. But when it came to talking about Jungkook...Jimin hadn't expected to feel so torn. So broken. Or perhaps, when his lips parted once more, Jimin came to recognise the gravity of his feelings for the younger bionic. "Did you know? It's been two years since then. Jihyun's doing well in University. He found a course that he likes. It's not science based, but...he's...it's what he wanted to do. You'd be really proud of him. Y-you are proud of him."

"..."

He was stalling. "I...eomma, he...Jungkook..." He breathed out, focusing on the spread of orange light which fell across his shoulder blades and the warmth that came with it. "Remember, when he left? Of course, you didn't understand why I was so upset because...you thought our love was only...p-platonic." His fingers were trembling. Say it. Just say it.

Just say it.

"I-I didn't want to tell you now, because I wanted to tell you in person. I wanted to see your reaction. I wanted to hear what you'd have to say...but...the doctors..."

"..."

"...they told me that, it would be a long time until you wake up. And, by then, things would have changed maybe beyond comprehension for you. So, I'm telling you now...eomma-"

"..."

"...with Jungkook...w-we both..." It was a strange feeling, from Jimin's end, to feel the growing expansion of his emotions to a point of explosion, and to not be able to break down and cry. How far his apathy had taken hold of his everything left Jimin in disbelief because it just wasn't like him. It wasn't him, this wasn't him. He wanted to change. He did. But it was so hard to get back to a level of normal, in terms of emotional stability. And, telling his mother, who he loved so much and who's opinion he treasured, about his journey with the man who he had fallen in love with really just, was...a huge leap. He could make it, for her. "W-what I mean, is..."

"..."

"I was...in love with Jungkook. I...I loved him, eomma. A-and he loved me too."

"..."

"And he's a bionic! It doesn't make any sense, right? How he could possibly learn to love, when he shouldn't have even been able to? Let alone, love me...right?"

"..."

"But...he did. I did. I-I...I don't know if I still do. It's been so long, and...eomma, I think I have a chance to see him again. But, what if..."

"..."

Jimin swallowed, and opened his eyes. Blurry, and distorted, his vision wobbled due to the building rise in tears across the waterlines, and Jimin stared down at his clasped fingers to try to breathe. "What if...what I have, isn't so bad? What if...what if seeing Jungkook, isn't the right thing to do? What if it messes up, everything? He's somewhere else, and I'm here, and we're existing, we're alive...! That should be enough, shouldn't it?!" His voice was getting louder, and more unstable. He wanted her to hear him. He just, wanted her to wake up. To stand, to walk over to him and coil her arms around his shoulders. "Why, why do I keep thinking about him...?! He's been gone, for so, so long...I should be over him...I should at least be allowed to feel happy..."

"..."

"But when he's not here...eomma, when he's not with me, nothing feels whole. Nothing feels like...anything...just, nothing..."

"..."

"I wish...I wish I could know, what you're thinking. I really need your motherly opinion right about now," Jimin joked, his head shaking and tilting to the side before his hand rose to sweep across his cheeks. "I need to go, eomma. I-I...I have someone who I need to call."

"..."

Rising to his feet, Jimin pressed the backs of his sleeves against of his eyes to soak up the remaining tears, and he inhaled. Take a deep breath. It's okay. She's okay. He stepped towards the hospital bed, and with closed eyes he bent down to kiss her forehead. Then, he stepped around to grab his coat, and walked out of the hospital room. His feet faltered, before the sliding door closed shut, and just as the last of the evening sunlight surfeited the room with its amber luminescence, Jimin caught sight of his mother. And he felt his heart throb from inside of his chest. He came here, to drown himself with the warmth of his mother from a distance in hopes of alleviating the weight from upon his soul, and instead...the warmth from which he felt from her forehead, and from the Autumn eventide gave him something else instead. He still felt so heavy, and if anything, heavier than before he'd stepped into the room.

But, now...he had an answer.

And, with the hand curled around the sheet of folded paper from within his left pocket, Jimin briskly left the hospital.

hey guys! i hope you're finding quarantine okay, from where you are in the world. i guess i'm barely hanging in there. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter. sorry it came a bit late, my brother and i ended up spending a long time packing away all of things from uni, and then i had a rather long call with some friends who needed me at the time.

hopefully, the next update will come soon.