He didn’t wake up to constant screams or hideous nightmares. It wasn’t the nurses calling out his name, not even Namjoon or Seokjin or even Hoseok. That day was certainly different because he opened his eyes to a sound of something crashing against the floor, ensued by someone cursing under his breath. Yoongi furrowed his brows and blinked, shifting in his sleep on the hospital bed he’d practically been attached to for the last week, it felt like he had rooted himself to it instead. When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but to feel baffled upon seeing a certain raven-haired figure inside of his room.

The figure quickly turned towards him upon hearing him shifted, making a face that certainly spoke of a thief being caught red-handed. He certainly knew though that Jeon Jungkook wasn’t a thief. He was just simply-, being in the wrong place. Because of course, what was a certain Jeon Jungkook doing in his hospital room.

“S-sorry,” he said, pointing at a wrapped parcel that stood by the table under the window with another bouquet of flowers that weren’t certainly there from the day before. “I’m just leaving this here. It’s from Taehyung-hyung, he told me to bring these here and the nurse just told me to come in to leave them here,” the boy quickly added, regaining his expression and wiping that flushed look from his face.

Judging from the state of room, it appeared that Jungkook just accidentally knocked another vase of white lilies that Seokjin had brought for him before, the one that should be sitting on top of the table instead. The vase was broken into two and the lilies scattered on the white-tiled floor. Jungkook quickly bent down and took them upon his hand.

“Sorry about this,” he said again politely, being a complete opposite of his boyfriend who barged into anyone’s life uninvited.

“No, don’t worry. Just threw them out,” he said, noting how Seokjin would bring another fresh one almost every day anyway.

Jungkook moved towards the trash can and dropped the lilies and the broken vase into it. Yoongi shifted again on the bed, thinking that he would try to sleep again before he realized that Jungkook hadn’t left the room yet. Something was holding him back for just a moment, explaining the reason why he was just standing there awkwardly in the room, looking at Yoongi. He looked back at the boy again, raising his eyebrow, wanting to know what the boy’s problem was before he realized that it wasn’t the right question to ask.

Rather, why wasn’t he even having any problem now? There was one thing that the raven-haired boy always did and that was looking at him with that gaze in his eye, one that spoke of terror and pure horror. Yet he was looking back at him right now more amazed and surprised than the usual fear, a mix of both at least. He just realized it right now that for the first time, the boy was looking at him like a normal person would.

And he remembered what the boy said that last time, how he met him at the ungodly hour of a night in his hallway, the boy even refusing to see him in the eye because he said there was-,

“I-I’m just going to leave now,” he said instead, turning around this time, a confused look flashing across his face.

Yoongi quickly sat upright and for the first time he said, “No, wait.”

Jungkook did, turning around to see him once again and Yoongi tried to look harder. The absence of fear on the boy’s face was unsettling indeed, too much it felt wrong instead.

“Do you still see-,”

“The girl?” Jungkook whispered.

Yes, he said that the last time. He said that there was something behind his back, something so horrible it got the boy avoiding his eyes at all cost, not wanting to gaze upon the said being that lurked behind his back. He turned his heels at that moment with heart beating like mad, wanting to determine the existence of whatever it could be and yet as he turned around all he saw was-,

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Yoongi asked. He was as surprised as Jungkook was upon hearing it because he never thought he would be saying the words himself. But the boy did nod, closing the door he was just about to open and walked hesitantly towards the seat on his right.

“You don’t see her right now, do you?” he asked.

Jungkook shook his head, for the first time conversing with him like a normal person would, seeing him right in the eyes.

“I-is she a ghost?”

The boy nodded again before adding softly, “I think so.”

“I could see-, things,” he explained. “It’s my gift. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been able to do that. Not all the time, though, it comes and goes.”

“A-and the first time I saw you, hyung, I-,” he stopped for a moment as if recalling a certain memory and that look of horror was back, just the slightest but definitely there. “She was so vivid, but I knew she was dead. She was just so horrible and I just couldn’t-,” he took a breath again, “-stand to look at her.”

He felt chills down his spine. Did she look that terrifying? With blood drenching her body and bones protruding her skin?

“What you see is a girl, right?” he asked. “A girl, not a boy.”

Because when he turned around that time all he could see was-,

“No, it’s definitely a girl. She was so mad and that was what scared me the most. I rarely saw one that was so angry.”

He could imagine it as well for he had seen it countless time in his nightmares. Would it be the same girl? Was he haunted by a certain being? Did it find its way into the realm of his dream?

“Why did she look so angry?”

Jungkook wasn’t even looking at him as he had reverted to look at the wall behind him. but he knew that the boy was recalling something instead, remembering a horrible image that he was actually more than fond to forget, yet Yoongi was asking him to do the opposite right now.

“She looked so mad, standing right behind you all the time, hyung,” he said slowly, enunciating each word as his eyebrows twitched and the words escaping his lips felt like a trance. His words were soft and careful as if he was in the midst of a horror story and they were huddling together around a firebond instead of a hospital room. And more than anything it wasn’t just a story it was an experience both of them realized to be more than true. “She looked so angry at you as if-,”

Yoongi was indeed crazy, but he wasn’t stupid. Most of all, even as much as he lied to himself, his subconscious decided to remonstrate him on that, because at the end of the day, it was his eyes that deceived him. It was his brain that decided to audaciously delete some parts for him, deciding that not knowing was simply the best. But still, that subconscious – or his conscience it was, perhaps – decided not to. They held on dearly to whatever it was and, at a time like this, did Yoongi realize that he should have known along, just like the scars on his hand and Jimin’s existence.

At the same time did he finally realize that they were all connected as well. It was stupid of him to not realize it sooner. It was the moment he met Jimin did the nightmares start. It was Jimin himself as well who could stop them from happening. In the end it wasn’t just the repeated nightmares. It was whispers, it was the telephones, it was the hallucination, images of bloody girls flashing over and over, being taped to the back of his eyelids.

It was the same intersection, the same steering wheel, the same absence of impact and skid marks.

“-as if I just killed her,” he whispered back.

.

Jungkook left not long after that. They didn’t really speak much, but he got that really weird feeling that somehow, the two of them could converse more if it wasn’t for the state that he was in. The boy left him soon after, but not before he spoke something that got him feeling guilty. “Taehyung said he’s sorry,” Jungkook said as he stood by the door.

He just simply nodded before the boy turned around and disappeared behind it. His eyes lingered towards the parcel and bouquet that Jungkook had left. Something from the Kim family, he guessed, but Jungkook’s last words were the one that got him thinking. Of course the raven-haired kid wouldn’t just simply come to a hospital to visit a certain stranger whom he only saw once or twice in his life. It was Taehyung who told him to with an apology at the end of it. Just like what he had done to Seokjin, he had snapped at Taehyung as well. Regrets came later and only now did it gnaw on him, realizing that he shouldn’t even said those words in the first place.

Yoongi was broken, but it seemed that he couldn’t help feeling broken by himself, for he always had to break others that were trying to fix him as well. Maybe he was just that kind of a person. Him breaking apart alone wasn’t enough, people had to be broken with him as well.

His room was empty again and this time, he ended up gazing at the newfound scenery that greeted him by his side. Yoongi had familiarized himself with the small yellow bottles, being ushered in by the nurse and placed carefully by his bedside table. He had familiarized himself with the little white pills sitting on top of his palm. On top of it all, he had familiarized himself with that emptiness, gazing out the window all day long until the light shifted and darkness replaced it. Time passed and nothing seemed to change.

Except maybe this day something did, for when Namjoon stepped inside, he shifted from his usual position, eyeing the male as he took his usual seat by the bed, rambling about troublesome assignments and the horrible traffic.

“What’s wrong?” the younger asked as he realized the elder’s uncommon cautiousness.

Sometimes, he could recall his memories quite easily, remembering the scene that had happened beforehand. Other times, he doubted whether what he saw was even a memory at all. At the worst point of the day the only thing that he could think about was probably Jimin and how his skin burnt like hell. So today was probably a good day for he felt none of those.

“Namjoon, d-do you remember-,” he said, gulping and taking his breath before continuing. “-about the car.”

The younger furrowed his eyebrow, shifting closer towards him.

“What do you mean, hyung? What car?”

“The one you brought to fix, the one you said there was-,”

Blood. He wanted to say blood, but his tongue died on him. This wasn’t certainly the first. After some course of time, he just realized that his way of speech had altered in some sort of way, certain words felt heavy to his tongue, he would just stop midsentence, forgetting what he was trying to say altogether. That, or his mind was simply playing a trick on him like it always did.

Without him finishing the sentence, Namjoon had seemingly understood. Of course Namjoon could. He used to be the best in reading him before Jimin came.

“Yeah, the car.”

He didn’t let Namjoon finish his sentence at all back then. He fumed at him and closed the door on his face before imagining the said friend coming back the very next day, telling him to forget about it all. No, it was him who wanted to forget about it and his mind had seemingly made it all up. He desperately needed to forget it all, he had to conjure up Namjoon’s existence as well.

“Namjoon, would you hate me?” Yoongi asked slowly. “Would you hate me if you realized that your best friend had kuh-killed somebody?”

Namjoon didn’t seem to be taken aback by his words. Instead, his eyes told him that he already knew, that he already suspected it. Namjoon was smart for a reason indeed. His gaze didn’t seem accusing nor did it threaten him. It gave him peace instead.

“Of course I won’t. I trust you, okay, hyung? Heck, even if you killed someone and told me to hide the body, I would do it for you,” he said.

The words got him letting out a small laugh somehow. Namjoon as his accomplice. In a certain way the younger had actually become one for getting rid of the remaining evidence, the blood on his car. If he would to be dragged upon court, Namjoon was definitely going to be serving his time as well by his side.

This was one of his good days, indeed. He remembered hearing Namjoon’s words that time, how he hoped it not to be true. He remembered the man returning for the second time, though he didn’t know whether that was reality or simply something that his mind had made up, but he was sure of one thing. Whatever he thought Namjoon said back then, the real him had meant it as well.

“Can you promise me something?”

The younger hummed in response.

The nightmare flashed against his eyes again, the horrible whispers trying to tell him the truth. All this time, he was just so blind towards it all.

“Can you please find out about it?” Because he needed to know. Even Jimin had said those words. “Can you please tell me that I really-.”

-killed a person, he wanted to say, but his fingers started to shake. He didn’t even use the ing brake. He didn’t even ing remember and even the universe had to tell him about it in some sort of a twisted way. His fingers trembled and he searched for his wrist out of impulse again before Namjoon grabbed him by the shoulder. This particular best friend had always a different method of comforting him. It would be the shoulder that he touched, not like Seokjin who would go for his fingers instead.

Or even Jimin who went with soft fingers against his cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay, hyung. I get it,” Namjoon said, smiling softly.

He gulped, trying to take deep breaths just like all the nurses kept telling him to do. It was ridiculous, he thought, how certain things could be easily fixed with breathing, when that was the only thing that he’d been doing for the last couple of months. He’d been taking breaths and nothing seemed to be better. It was the moment where he stopped that it actually did.

“You don’t have to do this alone, hyung. You got me and Seokjin-hyung and Hoseok and even Taehyung. You’re not alone, okay, hyung?”

He just nodded slowly, though in the back of his mind the only thing that bothered him the most was how Namjoon didn’t even mention Jimin’s name.

Of course nobody would.

.

They wouldn’t let him leave the hospital, even when the number of his bad days had decreased. That Jiyoon woman came from time to time and he was still reluctant to talk to her. No one mentioned Jimin’s name, yet she was oddly the only one who did, asking him questions about the boy, wondering how he looked like as if he really was a friend of his that she was eager to befriend.

Sometimes he would talk, other times he would throw something against the wall. Sometimes he would remember about Jimin being something that he made up, other times he remembered him as someone as real as Namjoon could be. 

But in the end, they finally discharged him with lots of yellow bottles of pills for him to down and upcoming appointments with Jiyoon marking the most of his calendar. Namjoon and Seokjin took an exceptionally good care of him, taking care of the paper work, while Hoseok stayed by his side and helped as much as he could in between his dance gig and university assignments. One Sunday afternoon, Seokjin drove him back to his apartment and everything felt surreal, him standing right in front of his opened door, seeing his living room and couch sitting in their respective places. Someone had cleaned the whole place, no thrown out belongings visible to his eyes whatsoever. There was no cracked television and the couch was fixed, no hint of knife or anything upon the fabric. It was as if nothing had happened at all, no trace of him breaking down, no trace of him dying. They had even cleaned the blood trail in the lobby and his own bathroom, scrubbing everything up, he could even still smell that pungent odor of disinfectant in the air.

Upon further inspection, there was yet indeed something different about the state of his apartment other than the absence of the television. He just realized that his knife holder was missing. There wasn’t even any scissors lying by, as he checked on his drawers later. His friend had really done a great job, it seemed, getting off any sharp edges that he could use to cut his skin with.

Namjoon said that Taehyung helped clean the place up and he noted towards himself to thank the boy later and even apologize for what he had said. His days went slowly after that, just like the days he spent on top of his couch before Jimin made his appearance. For days, things didn’t seem to change at all and his friends fell into an odd routine of treating him like a baby. With winter break coming, his friends had more time to spend, they literally never left him alone for more than an hour. Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon even took turns sleeping at his place. They huddled together in his living room, watching movies and acted as if nothing much had happened. Once, they even invited Donghyuk, Hunchul, and Hyosang over. Yoongi found that he no longer cared about it all.

In fact, he simply found out that he couldn’t care. Those little pills had numbed him and he couldn’t feel anything, sitting atop of his couch, doing nothing but breathing. It wasn’t much of a progress, but he had heard Hoseok say to his other friends when they thought he was asleep behind the door of his room, that it was certainly better than him cutting his own vein open.

And perhaps it was better for him live as a corpse than to die as one for them as well.

He wasn’t drowning. He wasn’t even swimming. He was simply just floating.

In the midst of that he could only think of how cruel his friends were. They rather had him living like this than granting him that relief he’d been seeking for.

.

One day he woke up from the same nightmare in the middle of the night. His body was shivering and he couldn’t even find his own voice to scream. He just jolted from his bed, the first thing that his eyes caught was the hour hand pointing at three. His nightmares were an endless loop and even upon waking all he felt was the paranoia, the same fear and restlessness. The headache was excruciating and the next thing that he registered was Jimin, or simply his absence.

His first thought was bolting towards the closed door of his bedroom before remembering that Namjoon or Seokjin was outside, camping in his living room like always. No, he couldn’t go outside and risk seeing them. He needed to find Jimin as fast as he could and the only way for him to do that was-,

He quickly rushed towards his bathroom cabinet, trying to find his razor. He ransacked the place again only to find that the razor was missing from its place. Gritting his teeth, he tried to find the scissors in his drawer this time but failed as well. His mind was repeating the same name over and over again like a prayer as he did so, with his wrist itching like mad.

He had to be quick, that was what he thought at the moment. Namjoon could wake up any minute soon, opening the door of his room to check on him. He had to make everything count this time. No more trembling fingers like before. No more shallow cut. No more hesitation. This time everything should be quick and efficient, he would be long gone before either of his friends had realized it. The problem was finding something sharp. Something that could prick his skin and tear them open.

He fumbled with his wardrobes even, trying to find any cutter or scissor that his friends had forgotten to take away, but found nothing that could satisfy him of his need. Scratching his wrists furiously, he even thought about using his own nails alone to claw his skin open until his eyes found a ruler he had forgotten years ago, tucked at the bottom of his drawer along stack of old assignments and pieces of paper.

Yes, a ruler. It wasn’t sharp enough, but it would be if he snapped it.

It was odd how comforting it had suddenly become the moment he saw the ruler and realized what it was capable of. It was oddly comforting to realize that he could finally redo what he had done and finally finish the deed. Yoongi walked towards the bed and snapped the ruler into two, the noise sounded like a sweet hum of an orchestra against his ears. It was sharp enough now, at least. Yes, he could do it right here and then, cutting his own wrist again, this time, he would finally meet Jimin. He would prove to the boy that he indeed loved him. No one was going to drag him away. There would be no ambulance with a blaring siren, no attempted CPR. Only his body being put inside a bag and the paramedic repeating the same apology over and over again. He could map everything out perfectly in his head.

He was lowering the edge of the ruler against his wrist and it was definitely harder to do so than the kitchen knife. He applied more pressure against his skin and gritted his teeth as the first trail of blood bloomed against his skin, bursting through the ground of white like a stream of a red river. It was harder and it pained him even more yet it ended up becoming more sublime.

As weird as it was, there was that feeling of comfort once again, the slow steady breathing and the warmth taking him in an embrace. As the pain intensified, so did the comfort. He closed his eyes and breathed in. He turned his head towards his left, knowing that it was something that he simply needed to do, and that was when he saw him again as he opened his eyes.

“Don’t do that, hyung.”

It was weird to see Jimin again. It felt like years since he had last seen the boy yet he was there right in front of him, his face looking sad. Why was he so sad? Why wasn’t he smiling?

He whispered the boy’s name. He blinked again and he was there, right in front of him. He wasn’t dreaming, was he? Park Jimin was right there in front of him and he was as real as he could be. How dared everybody tell him otherwise?

“Hey, hyung,” he said, smiling softly.

He’d been desperately searching for the boy, yet he didn’t know what to do right when his beloved was right in view. He wanted to crash their lips together again. He wanted to hold him so tight and promise he would never let go.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he whispered. “Nobody believed me that you’re-,”

“Real?”

He wanted to say yes, wanted to nod, wanted to scream that fact to everybody’s face, but Jimin looked so sad instead.

“You are, aren’t you?” he said again, the words leaving his lips with a slight tremble.

The boy didn’t answer him. Instead, he just smiled sadly as if he just disappointed him. It looked so sad he wanted to do everything that he could to take that sadness away. The boy looked down towards his bleeding left wrist and took it with his hand, bringing it closer towards his lips before he kissed him right on his wound, the blood staining his lips. He did it so slowly and gently as he pulled the same ruler from his other hand, prying it off his finger and putting it by his side on top of the bed. Funny was realizing that their conversation was mostly held on top of the couch. Yet they were on top of the bed. They never even ed on one.

“This is not what I want,” the boy whispered, caressing his left wrist with the touch of his finger again. It felt so soothing. He hadn’t felt that in a long time.

“But I love you, Jimin, and I-,”

“I love you as well, hyung. But this is not what I want. This is not what you want.”

He remembered Seokjin’s words and of course, like always, Jimin could read his mind again.

“Seokjin-hyung is right. I don’t-, we don’t want to see you die again.”

“But I need you, Jimin. Why did you leave me?” he asked. “You’ve promised me that you wouldn’t.”

Jimin shook his head.

“I never left you.”

“You’re lying. Every time I woke up, you weren’t there.”

“The one who’s lying is not me,” Jimin said. He lifted his hand this time and caressed Yoongi’s cheek with the back of his palm, wiping the tears that he didn’t even remember shedding. He could feel it oddly, knowing that the boy would disappear at the end of this conversation and he didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want to and he simply couldn’t. He would always ask questions, stretching this conversation for as long as he could, living each passing second of it.

“I can’t live without you.”

Jimin laughed a little. It wasn’t condescending. It was just a mere laugh and even as small as that, it made his heart stuttered. He leaned in closer and this time he wrapped his arm around Yoongi just like he always did, feeling the warmth and beating heart against his. Jimin was holding him and Yoongi returned the gesture, bleeding into the warmth, breathing the boy’s scent that always felt like his own shampoo. It wasn’t just shampoo. It was that little record store that he loved to visit. It was that summer day during his high school life. It was a cup of coffee on a rainy day with the gang sitting beside him. It was every nice thing that he remembered being combined together into one distinct smell.

It was him that he was breathing, the tiny voice in his mind said. It was himself that he was conversing with. It was his own warmth that he was feeling.

“Yes, you can. You managed just fine before you met me.”

“That wasn’t living, Jimin.”

That was him being a walking corpse. That was him dying, even. He was long dead before he put the knife against his wrist. Not until he was lowered to the ground inside a pretty wooden casket did everybody finally realize it.

“Yes it was, silly,” he said. “Remember what you told me, how you can’t laugh or cry the way I do? You’re the one who’s doing all of that.”

How Jimin could easily go from crying to laughing. The boy’s words didn’t make any sense to him, but he oddly didn’t find the need to understand it. His words were mere words, no complicated meaning behind it. They shared the same wavelength, every breath that Jimin took was his as well.

“You’ve got your friends, hyung. Friends that wouldn’t want to see you suffer. I’m nothing compared to them.”

“You’re everything compared to them,” he said again. Because as much as Namjoon could understand him, he couldn’t do what Jimin did. As much as Seokjin was going to hug him, he couldn’t provide him the same warmth that Jimin did. Even as much as Taehyung annoyed him, it was always Jimin who could do that the best.

Jimin leaned back, holding him by the shoulder and looked back into his own eyes. He was scared. He didn’t want to forget Jimin’s face. He oddly felt like he would. One day he would forget how Jimin looked like. One day he would forget his name. One day he would forget his cheerful tone and beautiful voice. One day there would be no Park Jimin and he couldn’t live in such a cruel world. For a world without sunshine was a crime and he believed that a world without Park Jimin was simply a mistake. He wanted to remember that face and that smile just as he was right now, remembering every inch of the boy that he had touched. He wanted to take this moment and put it in a frame, putting it to view for any eyes to see. He wouldn’t certainly forget him, then, and so did other people, because there would be none that would say how unreal he was.

Maybe people couldn’t simply understand the way he saw Jimin. The moment they did, of course they would deny the fact that he wasn’t real.

“No, hyung,” he whispered, the same smile painting his face. “I am what you believe me to be. I am what you hope me to be. And I can’t be anything that you want when you’re not even there to begin with.”

“You’re not making any sense,” he whispered.

Jimin giggled. “I don’t have to.”

Yes. He never had to.

Why did it have to be Jimin, he thought once. A mere boy who could turn his life upside down, someone who meant everything to him in ways he couldn’t even explain. Why did his name have to be Jimin? Why did he have to have such chubby cheeks and a blinding smile?

“Why do I love you so much?” he asked.

Why couldn’t he do the same for other people?

“Because you’ve never loved anyone other than yourself.”

He leaned in to Jimin’s touch and both of them just sat there, the comfortable silence wrapping around them. But he knew, though, he horribly knew that Jimin was leaving. He could feel it. Just as Jimin could read his mind, he could read Jimin as well. “Are you leaving?” he asked, grabbing Jimin’s fingers tight. Is this a goodbye, he wanted to ask, because it horribly felt like it. He just knew. Every fiber in his body knew. And maybe, just as Jimin had put it, he believed it to be the ending.

Yet, Jimin shook his head. He shook his head and he smiled. He always did. He always smiled for him.

“I will never leave you, hyung,” he said.

This time, it was him who moved forward first and wrapped his arm around the boy’s figure. He didn’t want the boy to ever leave.

“You promise?”

“When have I ever lied to you?” the boy teased.

Yoongi smiled and he closed his eyes, imprinting that very moment in his brain, feeling the warmth against him, whispering that sacred three words over and over again like a prayer. And as he opened his eyes, he realized that he’d been hugging the empty air all this time, though he could still oddly feel that warmth with him still. He wasn’t seeing Jimin or hugging the boy against him. He didn’t need to do that to feel the invisible warmth wrapping itself around him, whispering the soundless trail of ‘I love you too’ that echoed against the white wall.

.

It was snowing and the air was downright chilling. Yoongi hated the cold. He had loathed it for as long as he could remember. Lifting his head up, he thought about how fitting the time was. A walk to the cemetery with little perks of snow falling from heaven. It was nearing the end of January now and the snow had come early this year. Not only did it come early, but the fact that he was in Busan right now and it was snowing already said a lot, since the said coastal city rarely experienced such a phenomenon for the last couple of years. Whether this was some sort of a sign, Yoongi didn’t even know and he simply didn’t care.

Slipping his freezing fingers inside the pocket of his coat, Yoongi took a step forward, retracing Namjoon’s steps in front of him. Seokjin had told him to bring flowers but he thought that it wouldn’t be fitting. Of all the people who could bring her flowers, it would only be downright weird for it to be him, the very person who had killed her. Instead, it was the eldest that ended up bringing another bouquet of lilies, the one he always put by the window in the hospital room.

“Hurry up, Yoongi,” Seokjin said, looking a bit too cheerful for someone who was visiting a grave.

He just gave the eldest a sheepish smile and kept on walking with the same slow pace that he’d been taking. He wanted to take his time. It had been months and certainly a few minutes wouldn’t make a big difference. He tried to make the calculation in his head, remembering everything that had happened in September. Up until January, it was nearing half a year. Half a year of living in a lie, Yoongi thought. Half a year and it felt like a decade instead.  It was funny to see the Min Yoongi half a year ago, how different he was, how sitting on his couch in front of the television would mean something certainly different than what the Min Yoongi now would do.

Half a year and he’d seen things other people hadn’t seen, done things other people hadn’t done, and experienced something that very few people in this world would be willing to live through. Yet Yoongi had gone through it all, breathing and walking just fine right now, though he doubted that every fiber in his body was as fine as he physically was. There was something of his that was missing at least, something that he left back then under the shower with both wrists bleeding. Or maybe he left it when he said goodbye to Jimin, the boy smiling for the last time before he blinked and he woke up from the lie he’d been feeding himself.

“Is it still far?” he asked Namjoon as the two friends stopped in their tracks, waiting for him.

“Not really,” the youngest said. “Just a five minutes walk and we’re there.”

Yoongi nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out again, only to see the white mist of his own breath against the chilling air.

“Are you sure you’re going to do this, hyung?” Namjoon said, voice concerned. “It’s rather-, something.”

He nodded again. Of course he would. He was there, flying all the way from Seoul to Busan. The least he could do was finish this whole thing up, though he couldn’t lie that every step that he took felt heavier and that retching feeling in his stomach just intensified along with it.

“Yeah, I just need to see it,” he said, clenching his own fist as he took another step forward.

The scattering snow had actually made the place look beautiful, the white being a prominent color for his eyes to catch. As far as his eyes could see it was white. White upon the headstones, white carpet underneath his feet, white sky endlessly stretching. White was definitely a whole lot better than the red he’d been constantly seeing.

Namjoon had nodded and the man took the lead again, letting Yoongi followed him. Seokjin stood next to him with worried eyes and Yoongi just ignored it the best he could, stepping forward and making it apparent to his friends that he was indeed all right.

Namjoon had kept his promise. His friend had searched for any list of accident happening during the month of September, hit and run in particular. It didn’t really surprise him to find out that he was indeed correct, a hit and run accident taking place at the Yeoksam intersection on a particular September night, just like what Hoseok had said. There was no eyewitness and it just happened right when the security camera on the said intersection was being taken down for maintenance issue. Everything that occurred that night was just a coincidence. The absence of the security camera and any eyewitnesses, even to the fact that the accident happened around three in the morning according to the autopsy.

What made matters worse was the identity of the victim. Some homeless person frolicking around the place found her body just before dawn and called the cops. The impact with the car had seemingly killed her in an instant. There was no I.D. and the police just couldn’t identify her, so she went around as a Jane Doe for weeks with nobody claiming her body. The autopsy showed that she was high on drugs that night, she might have been walking down the road under the influence of it. Another thorough examination showed that she was some sort of a e, working for a nearby club or at least that was what the police had guessed. Yoongi himself knew that there was a Gangnam club not far from the Yeoksam intersection, he had even actually gone there before. So maybe, just maybe, the two of them had crossed paths before, passing each other’s figures in another scene other than Yoongi behind the steering wheel and the said girl in front of his headlights.

It was the fact that she was a e with no I.D. did the police stop the investigation as well. es were usually runaway teenagers, and even going as far as asking the people down the club, she might have been using an alias. The case was closed and soon enough she was forgotten by the rest of the world, even by her own killer.

That was where Yoongi got to thank Namjoon for. His best friend was indeed a genius. He kept his promise and went to the said club and the police station under the false pretense of a family member. She was using many aliases and it was pretty hard to even find out much about it, let alone her real name, but it wasn’t until the news that her body was being taken by her real family member did Namjoon make actual progress. She was a native Busan, it seemed, for her family had taken her body back home. Yoongi couldn’t even bring himself to meet her family, not even wanting to know more about the girl he had murdered, not even her name. He just wanted to pay his respects, seeing her grave and nothing more than that.

Namjoon had talked to the girl’s family, this time lying that he was a friend from Seoul. He found out where she was buried and that was everything that Yoongi needed to know. That was why the four of them, including Hoseok, ended up flying to Busan. Namjoon and Seokjin were against that at first, telling him that it was an unnecessary thing to do. He had come to peace with the idea and that was the only thing that he needed to know. But of course it wasn’t enough, Yoongi knew. Jimin told him to find out about her and it just felt right for him to at least stand in front of her graveyard and uttered his apology. In the end, there they were, just a few minute walk from their final destination and Yoongi felt his legs suddenly being made from steel or something like that, each step he took felt like he was sinking it towards the ground. Hoseok was waiting by the car for them and Seokjin had demanded to come.

Yoongi stopped again, this time feeling like he was going to throw up. He hunched forward, holding his own stomach and Seokjin quickly came to his aid, holding him by the shoulder.

“I-I’m okay, I’m-,”

And he felt his breakfast making a reappearance up his throat, he finally threw up right there on the snow before he could even finish his sentence.

“We don’t have to do this,” the eldest said, patting him on the back. In front of him, Namjoon had stopped, waiting for him. He knew that his friends wouldn’t be mad with whatever decision he took, even if it meant turning around now and going back to Seoul empty handed. No, it was him he would be mad at.

“I-I have to. It’s the least I can do,” he said.

He just killed someone and miraculously nobody bats an eye. It was pure luck that the security camera was broken that day, or the fact that there was no one there to stand witness for the crime he did. Pure luck, that was what Namjoon had said and he snapped the moment his best friend labeled his predicament with those two horrible words. That wasn’t pure luck. That was a cruel coincidence, just as cruel as the fact that the police decided to stop the investigation. Nobody knew that the girl died, not even her parents. No wonder she came back to the only person that was there at the crime scene, the only person who should be held responsible, only to find out that the said person wasn’t even haunted by guilt.

Yoongi was walking as a free man right now. He was not being apprehended, even the blood at the hood of his car was soon forgotten. At the back of his mind he could even make out the scene even if he was caught by the police. Being an heir to a famous corporation meant that his parents would simply throw some money, which amount meant very little to them, wiping the sin he committed as easy as a flick of their fingers. Innocence would be a standard too cheap for the Mins not to attain.

Their eldest seemed ready to stop him, gripping his shoulder rather tightly before he let it go again with a heavy heart and helped Yoongi get back on his knees. He wiped the edge of his mouth and kept on moving down the road with a stuttered walk.

Just a few steps ahead Namjoon was standing in front of a particular headstone, face looking solemn before he turned his head towards Yoongi.

“Hyung, you don’t have to do this,” he whispered.

Shaking his head, he simply realized that he was there. Just a few feet away laid the remains of someone that he had murdered with his own hands, someone that was supposed to be breathing just fine, supposed to be living and standing, someone who was even more alive than Park Jimin ever was. Half a year and he was finally there. Half a year and finally he had stopped lying to himself.

He breathed in the cold air before he walked towards Namjoon, standing next to him and closed his eyes.

“Could you please, leave?” he asked both Namjoon and Seokjin quietly, still with his eyes closed.

He needed some time for himself. His friends complied and he heard them taking their steps away. Yoongi gulped, taking yet another breath and felt his own finger shivering. Jungkook said that he didn’t see her anymore. Oddly Yoongi thought that she was already in peace as well. He had asked Namjoon to create a bank account under a false name, something at least discreet enough for him to give her family enough money to last for a generation. It wouldn’t be a problem too big for the Mins anyway. But it wasn’t that that made him felt as if he had repaid her. Somehow, it was slitting his wrists open that did. That was him repaying the girl back, or so he had thought. An eye for an eye, a life for a life. He had died once and she was satisfied with it, it seemed.

Opening his eyes slowly, the only thing he could see was the ‘Beloved daughter and dearly missed’ written on the top line of the headstone. The rest was covered in snow, the white against grey making it hard for him to read the remains of the words, including the name. He should be grateful at that, noting how he certainly didn’t need a name to put upon that haunting face that still plagued his dream from time to time.

But of course, Min Yoongi had to be stubborn, had to be a liar even to himself. He kneeled in front of the headstone and swept the snow upon it with the side of his coat. He just found himself needing to do it out of impulse. There was a voice in his head that told him he need to know.

And the next thing that he knew, he was laughing.

All it took was just one look. One single look upon the headstone and he ended up in a fit of laughter, everything coming together in a circle.

Seokjin and Namjoon quickly turned their heads towards him, looking at him with worried looks, but of course they too would understand. They knew. Of course they did. That was why they were so against him coming to this place.

The thing was, Yoongi never wanted to know about the girl if he could. He didn’t want to know more other than the apparent fact that he had killed someone. When he did, paying the girl respect was the last thing that he had to do. He didn’t need to see her family, knowing what kind of a girl she was. But something in the back of his mind told him that she would be – or at least used to be – a girl who was so self-conscious about what she ate. She would have that passion for dancing and moving in particular. She would want to cook something for the person she loved, and she would definitely want to study law or something if she ever decided to study in university and she was indeed still in that age of doing something stupid only to regret it later.

The thing was how all it needed for him to stand there in front of the graveyard, acknowledging the girl, was a certain made up figure of a boy with chubby cheeks and a blinding grin. All it needed was a certain boy to his world up, and even when he still hadn’t woken up from the lie he’d been feeding himself, there were still the whispers and the repeated nightmares.

Everything that he’d been through for the last couple of months came crashing down, but he didn’t break down, scratching his own wrist and screamed. He just laughed instead, because everything had finally made sense. Everything came in a perfectly circled loop. For the first time in forever, he understood everything.

And Yoongi laughed and laughed. He was on the ground, his knees cold from the snow and it got to the point where his stomach hurt from laughing too much as well. But he simply couldn’t stop because the world had ed him up. They ed him up real good. Everything did and it all made perfect sense. Why, you ask?

Because there on the headstone he could see a name engraved. He couldn’t be seeing it wrong, because it was there right in front of him, three syllables being prominent to his eyes it couldn’t be any more of a lie than what his mind had made up for him. Everything in this half of a year started and ended with the name written on the headstone almost too perfectly.

Because there in front of him, he could see a name he had grown to know for the last six months, a name that had been living on his lips in between his shameless moans and cries, a name that he was clinging onto too hard, afraid of letting go. It was the same name, the same three syllables, the same Park Jimin reflecting in front of his eyes.

‘Beloved daughter and dearly missed

13^th October 1995 – 21^st September 2015

Park Jimin’