The sound of shoes hitting the polished tiles echoed through the deserted hallway. White washed walls being illuminated by fluorescent lights, the smell of disinfectant lingered in the air. Jimin’s groggy figure turned the corner through the never ending maze, being trailed by MoonRi and Yoongi. Slowly falling deeper and deeper into his pit of grief and fear. Counting the room numbers that passed him by finally making it to room 204. He reached out for the handle, pausing to take a deep breath.

    "It'll be alright Jimin," MoonRi put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Yoongi and I will be right here if you need us, okay?" Jimin only nodded in response, too scared his voice may break if he were to say a word. Slowly he turned the handle to Jeongguk's room revealing a pale figure laying in the bed. His eyes closed, his head shaved, what was left was covered by the bandages. His chest was slowly rising and sinking with the help of the machines adjacent to the bed.

    He looks so peaceful....

Jeongguk did not look as if he was in pain, he looked quite the opposite. He seemed as if he was only sleeping, in a peaceful slumber. Jimin hesitantly walked over to the bed his lover was in, tears flowing as he wrapped his arms around himself tightly. Slowly he reached out to caress his lovers’ cheek. "My baby..." he muttered almost silently. His eyes traveled down his body as if examining his injuries, his eyes landed on his lovers fingers. They were rough, he'd played guitar for as long as Jimin could remember, the beeping of the heart monitor faded as the memories flashed by.

    The park...

     The trees blew in the cool spring breeze, a young Jimin sat on the hill, a paintbrush in one hand while his other held his morning tea. Fresh from college, the young artist came to the park every morning. The endless rolling hills seeming to change with each rising sun, the people come and go; but never change. The same old man walked his granddaughter to school every day, her hair always fell into two braids. The young businessman ran to work, his coffee and briefcase falling almost every time. A woman took her corgi for a walk, the same obnoxious orange leash connecting to the collar around his neck. Always the same, always comforting, he knew everyone and they knew him. He was the artist who would capture the moment. He rarely sold his paintings and he rarely kept them, he normally gave them to whomever he had captured in his oil paint. By now everyone had grown used to the artist’s ways.

        Today was no different than the rest, Jimin looked around searching for his next victim. The breeze that once blew through the trees slowly came to a stop, a beautiful melody flew through the air instead. Jimin looked to the unfamiliar source to find a young man, not much younger than he, sitting under the tree strumming a guitar. Something about the boy, the boy playing the guitar, made Jimin freeze. He was a painter, yet for the first time in his life the brush felt heavy in his hand. He sat frozen staring at the boy from a distance, as did everyone else being lured in by the magnificent melody. Time stood still. Only for a second, the man and his granddaughter were silenced, the business man no longer running, and the dogs attention was on something other than the ball. He was enchanting, like a snake charmer. Even through the hustle and bustle of this seemingly uncoordinated town, it was easy to spot the new soul, someone so obviously out of place. However, just as quickly as time froze it was resumed, just as Jimin's brush fell from his hand he quickly drew his pencil across the paper.

        Day after day Jimin found himself drawing the boy, his brown locks framed his tired, yet beautiful face. His hands played with perfection as people tossed their spare change into his case, his head bowing each time. He was so different, so new. Jimin had seen every face in this side of town at least once, but here he was, a strange man had slowly wiggled his way into the daily routine.

        One day... Three days... Seven...

        One drawing... Five drawings... Eleven...

        It had been over a week since Jimin had painted, for some odd reason he couldn't find the inspiration, all he wanted to do was draw. His folder grew with each day adding a new drawing of the young musician. It slightly upset Jimin, he was the painter in town but he no longer painted, he no longer used color. He never wished to give the boy his drawings either. There was something about the drawings, he wanted them for himself. Several weeks passed, Jimin slowly learnt the pattern; he was never there on Thursday or Sunday. Jimin guessed he was in college, or working maybe. Those days he spent drinking coffee and finishing his final products of the young musician, maybe even taking the time to sketch out the landscape.

        Jimin yearned to interact with this man but could never seem to start a conversation, what could he say? hi, I think you’re really hot and I love listening to you play. When you sing along my heart flutters. Right, of course he would say that. The two simply continued to coexist, merely passing one another by until that one day. The breeze was strong, spring was turning to summer. Jimin, distracted by thought didn't notice how the wind had picked up and swept away a handful of the drawings. His eye caught the musician himself hold one of the drawings while reaching down to pick up another, a horrified gasp left his lips as he darted to the younger man.

        "Hey!" Jimin's voice cracked as he stopped in front of the boy. That was it, time froze just as it had the first day he had played his hypnotic melody. Their eyes locked, neither able to look away, the silence was comfortable.

       "Did you draw this?" there was something to his voice, was it admiration? Maybe confusion. Jimin could barely find the words to speak, clearing his throat in an attempt to avoid another embarrassing voice crack.

    “No.. I.. uhm.. Can I have that back?” Jimin really didn’t want to fess up to drawing the three pieces currently in the strangers hand. With a bit of courage Jimin began reaching out to take the drawings from his hand. However, he was met with a rather amused smirk, the hand holding onto the papers was quick to lift them into the air far from the reach of the shorter male.

    “Oh? So you’ve just been staring at me these last few weeks because you’re a creep? And not because you’ve been drawing me? I think that might be even creepier...” his voice was soft, tone playful. Jimin could feel the way his pale cheeks began to grow a deep shade of red. With a huff he blew his bangs from his face.  

    “Okay listen, I, no, I am not a creep I just… Can I please have my drawings back?” Jimin was running low on excuses, and being so close to the boy didn’t help either. With one last attempt Jimin leant forward to try and grab the fleeting papers.

    “Ah, so they are yours…” continuing to hold them out of reach he continued with a mischievous voice, “what will you give me for them?” Jimin could only gawk at the sudden question.

    “Sorry… what?” His eyes grew wide as he stared up at the tall man.

    “You heard me… What are you going to give me?”

    “I… well…” Jimin was at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing many times before he finally spoke again. “What do you want?” Bingo. There was that smirk again. There was zero hesitation in his reply.

    “Dinner,” before Jimin could even react, he continued, “I will return these to you after you take us out for dinner… Jimin…” his brown eyes flickered toward the drawing for a moment, the signature at the bottom was a clear print of his name.

    “Oh.. well I…” with a bit of a cough Jimin continued, “I suppose that is a fair deal…” he took a pause, as if silently asking for his name. However all he got in reply was a smirk and silence. The boy slowly began to retreat toward his tree, his eyes never leaving the boy. “Wait! What’s your name?” again, silence. Using the papers to cover his grown smile, the stranger simply winked at him before spinning around.

    “Tonight? I’ll meet you at 8, right here. Until then, Jimin.” He tossed the artwork into his guitar case before snapping it shut. Tugging the strap over his shoulder he threw one last wink at the flustered man before walking away.

    Jimin stood in shock, staring at the mans retreating back. He was about to yell one last time, yet he stopped when he felt a single raindrop touch his cheek. His gaze lifted to the grey sky above him.

    Another... Drop after drop....

    Tears rolled down onto Jeongguk's hospital gown as Jimin came back to Earth. The tears kept falling as he realized that their meeting was long gone, that his lips no longer carried a warm smile, but a cold frown with a plastic tube between them. Jimin’s heart ached as he quietly cried for his lover; his broken lover.

    One day down...