One time I was asked to present something, a physical object, of value to me. It took me no more than a second to think of what I valued, but I hesitated to show it. We were talking about an object's worth, why it was of value and what made it valuable.

People around me continuously showed jewelry, expensive items, and heirlooms. It was of value to them because it had been passed down from their generations. It was of value because they felt it was something they were given to based on trust. Their families, the history of the object, the craftmanship—that all created value.

“Namjoon, what about you?” they asked.

Slowly, I decided to take out a silver object. It was a butterfly knife, the ones that people swung open flashily and always looked like they would cut themselves. It looked cool enough for sure, and the people I showed it to were surprised. It wasn't, for one, similar to any of the objects other people had.

“This...um...” I started. “I bought this a while ago.”

“I bought it online,” I continued. “It wasn't like super expensive or anything. It's not really anything special.”

“So why is this of such value to you?”

“I thought it looked cool,” I chuckled a little. “I wanted to show my friend because it was really cool.”

They nodded in understanding.

 

“Since I bought it online, it took a few days to ship. I was excited, of course.”

I sighed, “I guess I just like to have this around with me, because when it came in the mail..."

I could feel the tears building up inside of me.

 

“...my friend passed away.”

That half second of awkward silence ensued.
 

I refrained myself from tearing up, and just stared at the knife, whipping it open and closed repeatedly.

I heard a few 'aws' and I smiled to myself. A somewhat painful smile.

This knife was so valuable to me. This knife would forever represent my best friend. The one I never got to show it to. Having it close to me made me feel closer to him, as if he was still here.

It hurt a lot less now, of course. But the value of this object stayed important to me. At times, it still would hit me that he was gone, and time after time, I wonder how it would be like if I actually got to show him the knife. If I could still hear his voice and hang out with him like I always did. Like now, it hurt to remember him—but it wasn't anything I could do anything about.

People never asked why I valued this knife before, and now that I had said it, the pain was coming back. Because after all this time, I still missed him so much.

I miss you...

Min Yoongi.

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word count: 476

notes:

to me, it was kind of shocking to hear this during class. i don't know how close the guy was to his friend, but i feel like it must have been really painful for someone to pass away the day you wanted to see them, or something.

just the thought of terrible coincidences like this kind of leave this bittersweet feeling.

sorry for the shortness? of this? i never really do drabbles, and if i do, it always ends up pretty long >__<

oh and yeah, sugamon.

hope you liked it somehow though!

comments and upvotes would be really nice~