"𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢; 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚜? 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚞𝚙? 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜? 𝚃𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝚂𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗, 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜. 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠, 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕. "

-𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚊 𝙰𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚖

***
Jimin

He breathed out. And for a while, he didn't think he could breathe back in again.

The great thing about being habitually accustomed to the adulterated void from within yourself, and this was meant sincerely and without any underlying irony, was the ability to wholly and quite altogether disappear from your current reality. Jimin had remarkably gained mastery in this particular art of essentially losing consciousness, of inherently slipping into a coma at any time of day without warning signs: of, in essence, zoning out. The twenty-two year old was so aware, and yet undeniably oblivious to this, and the part of him that really gave a care in the world remained ignorant of everything because in the grand scheme of things, it evidently didn't really matter.
Take the rain, in millions, which stuck to and slid down his sickly cold cheek. It's the sort of weather that washes everything anew, and one could say that it brings everything and everyone together. And in that joyful congregation of water and air is the sense of being alive, that from such beautiful simplicity comes everything we love, the flora, the fauna, the soul and essence of nature which is just who we are. Jimin knew this. He knew just how precious life was.

Again. Life, lock, stock and barrel, is within itself. The possibilities of each individual routes, outcomes, to success or failure were unfairly vast, endless, and perhaps once upon a time Jimin found such a thing extraordinary when he could see his own life through a warmer filter. He once thought, believed, that certain events happened for a reason, that people were how they would be and that this, being the present time, should be widely accepted. That this, everything, was just how it was, how it all should be.

Wrong.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

One moment. One, singular moment. That, that, was finally the time when Jimin found himself perceiving the world to being what it actually, maybe was. Any person, any being in fact, has a point of no return; a level where once is over extended and once is over strained, prevents them from being ignorant and unwise. Because, that one singular moment becomes enough to invert every judgment, and their faith from within them, and so demands the logical part of them to see what they couldn't before. He had met failure, fiercely and powerfully. He had failed.

Jimin didn't care. He couldn't. How could caring so much, lead to this kind of despair? It was all ceaseless, the one-sided conversation inside of his head, it just never seemed to end. He had lost the war with his mind, with his thoughts, however his enemy hadn't retreated. Instead, Jimin remained beaten to the ground, never with a chance to hope to even stand to his raw and tender feet because never for a second had he come across a moment of solitude. He remained as jaded as ever, and that was how it would be.

Indefinitely? Who knew. He was too tired to do anything, but sit: atop this drowned, city-park bench with his eyes closed and his head against the stinging cold frame, beneath cadaverous trees who failed to bloom and who selfishly continued to exist despite their inability to provide cover against the fetidness of the spring weather. The sky was, unbelievably grey.

...
...
...

Occasionally, though...Jimin would dream. He would dream about a time when he hadn't been subjected to the feeling of nothingness, when he hadn't been unknowingly numbed to certainty and anything absolute. To emotion. One person. One singular person. He had been the one who had changed everything. That person had been the one who had neglectfully swamped the older with such wonderful feeling, and who had become vehemence itself, because he had flooded Jimin with happiness, with joy, with anger, with fervour, with despair, with rapture, with amity, and the older had utterly drowned in everything which that person had given him. Had he known that he had already suffocated, maybe Jimin wouldn't have taken that path. Maybe, he wouldn't have allowed himself to love.

"Jimin hyung?"

And, to suppress the hurt that threatened to claw its way out from his heart, Jimin had to forget, forget everything: his touch, his gentle voice, the unconditional feelings that burned and erupted from his core, his smell, his laugh, his smile. His beautiful, beautiful smile.

"Jimin hyung..."

"Jimin?"

He breathed in, finally. The shrouded darkness that had submerged his vision started to break apart, once finding the strength to open his eyes, and the strewn, dispersed arrangement of darkened, drab branches diffused into the frame of his perception. He said nothing. Who had called out his name?

"Jimin, what're you doing here?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"...how did you find me?"

Yoongi sighed again, and the perfectly undisturbed, somewhat solitude that had interlaced the younger's mind had disappeared almost entirely. "You're always here. You're never anywhere else." The mellow breeze which scraped alongside his body, and down past the edges of his hood, was somehow enough to fill the silence between himself and his friend. A few moments later, Jimin heard the shuffle of the other's boots. "You forgot, didn't you? About tonight?"

Hadn't forgotten. Just didn't wish to go. "I didn't."

"It's just a movie, Chim, Tae and I thought...well, maybe you needed it." This time, a sigh escaped his own frigid lips upon hearing his hyung take a step closer towards the bench. "You coming?"

He wasn't. He wasn't. He didn't want to, but that didn't stop the involuntary reaction of his nodding head. Why did he bother, why did he even...just, what was the point? Without feeling, Jimin felt inhumane, he felt the inauguration of his inevitable euthanasia close almost to the touch. Just one touch, a slight graze, would it be enough to see the end? Would it ever be enough? Probably not. However, the inescapable truth and concreteness of his ability to persevere in spite of the weighing of his insides always seemed to be just enough to stand, everyday. And maybe, that was the only humane part of him left. Just look up, Jimin. Up, up.

Despite the knowing fact that his vision was now impaired by addiction, addiction to the view of the ground below his feet, still he raised his gaze slightly to take in the sight of his friend who sported colours; one could say, their attires had once been known to be impossibly interchangeable, and yet here they were, one wearing grey and the other sporting a pastel lemon-logo shirt. Yoongi's green hair was gone, since the now twenty-four year old had allowed the old dye to fade with time and now his natural, also shorter black tresses kissed the pale skin above his brows. This had to be the first time in maybe, well... Jimin wasn't actually sure, but the point was that this had to be the first time in a while since the younger had gotten a greater look of his hyung. Had his mind previously processed the information around him instead of blocking every stimuli out, maybe Jimin would have noticed the lesser-hollowing of Yoongi's complexion, and the fuller, rounder curve of his blooming cheeks, thus reasserting Jimin's place as a friend. "Um..."

"Yeah?"

"How's Tae?"

The other swallowed, the apparent build of saliva against the deck of his tongue clarifying that he hadn't actually expected Jimin to make conversation willingly, and to be frank, Jimin hadn't either. "He's good, great even. Second year at university is difficult. Well, it was for you and I anyway," Yoongi tried to joke, however his gaze remained skyward and somewhat distant, "but he's getting through the classes fine. I mean, he's a bionic so...y-yeah. Once he gets his qualifications, it'll be easier."

Jimin nodded, his gaze trailing back to his feet once more. "He'll be a great counsellor."

"I tried pressing him, to get him to take the psychiatry course, but he's worried about putting pressure on my gallery to pay rent for a few extra years." Jimin no longer tried to pretend. The wall between his hyung and himself was so high, and so painfully apparent, and yet it seemed like only the younger was wanting to acknowledge what was so ridiculously obvious. Maybe, Yoongi-hyung also realized too, that this hadn't even been the third time retelling this particular piece of information to the younger. Time really was a bitch. "So, how's work going? Didn't you take a class out to the Nakdong river a few days ago?"

"Yeah I did. Well, it wasn't my class, they just needed extra hands."

"What's the English teacher's name? The one who I saw you with last time-?"

"...Joowon, Chang Joowon."

"Yeah him. I could be wrong but, I swear he was flirting with you. In front of the kids, no less."

Jimin's brow twitched. "That doesn't surprise me. He's shameless."

The silence that followed remained eerie, as they paced through the empty park side-by-side, two friends and yet strangers simultaneously. "I, Jimin, would you consider...maybe, I don't know, him?"

The younger's legs faltered, and the muscles in Jimin's limbs started to stiffen and ache at his friend's suggestion. "What do you mean?"

Yoongi cleared his throat, before he coughed awkwardly at Jimin's begrudging reply. "I mean, well, he's a pretty nice guy and everything, and it's obvious that, he's interested in you-" a fire of nocuous nature found its way crawling slowly up Jimin's throat, starting from the base of his stomach and edging nearingly towards his tongue, despite his best efforts to hold it back, "-not to mention that, he's making a decent salary. A-and he isn't too bad to look at either-"

"Hyung-"

"Yes?"

"Just, stop...please," Jimin managed, and his voice shuddered faintly although not as little as he'd wanted. "I'd rather not...I don't need any dating advice. Not now."

Flinching, Jimin turned to his side when he felt a hand clench his forearm, however he kept his gaze to the floor when Yoongi took a step towards him. "Chim, you can't be like this forever-"

"Like this? Like what? Like how, exactly?" the younger spat, sparks of his vexation now borderline delicate and almost rigid toasting his words. "You have no right to say that to me."

His vision shook, when Yoongi rose his other hand to grab Jimin's other arm, and when he pulled Jimin towards him promptly and instantaneously.  Jimin no longer knew where to look: his feet, the pavement, the sky? Just anywhere, but forward. All at once he'd been subjected to this inevitable scenario which he'd so desperately avoided, and all at once he now had to face someone who he hadn't actually and fully acknowledged within the past two years. "I'm your best friend, Jimin, that makes me one of the only people qualified to say that to you? Are you...can you please look at me?"

His chest progressively started to heave, faster and faster, each thud of his anxious heart rapidly heavier than the last, until the building cold sweat upon his palms and the shivering which lined his entire upper body became almost unbearable. He felt cold, he felt sick, and if not for his self-control Jimin would've curled up into a tight ball where he stood and clutched everything that he was as to not let anything slip out. Everything looked hazy for a few seconds, before Jimin managed to take a step upwards from the lower altitude of his mind and raise his chin so that his was in line with Yoongi's. And in doing so, he found that something brightened in his friend's weary gaze.

"Chim, you have to understand, I'm so worried about you."

Jimin swallowed, unblinking as he stared back at Yoongi. "I know."

"You can tell me anything, anytime. I'm here for you."

"I know."

Yoongi's pained smile was a mistaken, unnatural crevice within his face, something which didn't and hadn't belonged in a long time, and as the one who created such a feature within his friend Jimin felt the very depths of guilt there and then. Some part of him had to let it all go, just a small part of him, and only enough to reassure everyone around him that he was okay, even if he wasn't. If it was enough to rid of that ugly smile then maybe he could do it. Smile. Just smile.

So Jimin did, he smiled back at Yoongi, who's expression flooded with relief and solace before becoming morbid once again. "He's...he's not coming back. You know that, right?"

And, his smile died, as quickly as it'd appeared. "I know."
***

Chapter 1 goes up on Friday (the 27th) because I love you all so much. I'll publish a new chapter every Friday from then on.

Merry Christmas ❤