It was morning. The smell of dew filled the dusty room, and rays of sunlight seeped through the crooked windowpane.The sun had already risen, indicating a new beginning, but for two people, new beginnings didn't exist. There was only void.  

Yoongi gently squirmed under the wrinkled sheets, attempting to earn a response from the presence next to him. He turned his body and faced Jimin, and stared with orbs that glistened in the dimly lit room. There he was, lying next to him, unmoving and peaceful. He thought that maybe, if he moved a little closer, he would hear him snore, but he didn't hear anything. He pulled him closer, his face inches away from the other.

He gently nudged his nose on Jimin's forehead and whispered,

'I like the way you smell in the morning...Hmm...'.

Jimin was his drug and he knew no limits. Jimin's scent was the only fragrance he wore and his touch was the only feeling he knew. Because of him, he knew how it felt to be free, to be separated from the world that did nothing but tear him apart and hold him down. Feeling the weight of the other's nose on his forehead, he softly grunts,

"Don't...It tickles...", his face flushed in crimson.

Finally, he opened his eyes, in the gentlest way possible and stared into Yoongi's eyes.

"Hmm...Good morning..." he groaned.

Yoongi, unable to reply, pulled Jimin closer to his own body and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Their hands met and their fingers intertwined and then there was silence.

'I want to stay like this forever...' Jimin whispered.

But again, he was answered with silence. He had hoped to hear Yoongi's voice, so he spoke one more time.

"I love you...Stay with me"

The burning desire to tell Jimin how much he loves him back was undeniably strong but he was beginning to struggle. Something inside him was holding him back, a part of him that knew he was being fed lies. He shivered under Jimin's touch and trembled as he struggled even more. An eerie blanket of cold air brushed over the corners of the room and right at that moment, he woke up sprawled on his bed in his dimly lit quarters. He stared at the ceiling, beads of sweat trickling down his neck and gulped a faint sob.

"It was you again...Why..."

It was an accident that could've been prevented or maybe, just maybe, something that fate had managed to pull off, perhaps to make way for better plans.  It hadn't been long since Jimin's passing, and as each day passed, it became more and more unbearable. He visits him every now and then, in his dreams and illusions, only to remind him how much he loves him and how boundless their love is and would be even in the afterlife. But his reminder brought him nothing but misery and pain. He had thought of taking his own life, but somehow, he knew that when he slept, he was beside him. For some reason, he had always felt Jimin's hands ruffle his hair in the morning, the same way he fiddles with his fingers when they hold each other close under his favorite white sheets.

"He's not gone..." he whispers, plunging into a bottomless abyss of illusion once more.

He was gone but not gone. He was there but not there. He was breathing but not breathing. Jimin became a paradox in which Yoongi forced himself to believe in, a suffocating box where he confined himself in.  

When it came to Jimin, he had always been at his wits end but he did not mind the threat of destruction and insanity. He believed he was sane but what he did not know was he had been living a lie, a life that only existed to torment and destroy. He was vulnerable but he did not care. He knew of the truth but he chose to turn a blind eye because it did not matter. What mattered was he was there, lying next to him, dead but alive.