Rest in peace, I hope the bouquet you're placed in is the most beautiful of them all. You will be missed. ♥

 

Honestly, this wasn't even supposed to happen. I wasn't even supposed to write this but.. I did. 

As stated in the foreword, I wrote this in honour of my late friend who passed away on Sunday. Since I wrote this to... cope with my own sorrow
it might be a bit weird, and oddly written and all that but.. I felt that I needed to write and share this for my own sake. It's not proofread or anything, I just wrote it on a whim. 

I hope you'll enjoy it none the less. 
_______________

Rain smattered against the dirt covered curb, splashing around slow paced feet as the small group moved forward; black umbrellas mingling with their black clothes bodies. The priest walked first, face stoic as he moved. He had probably done this a million of times already.

 

The ability to feel sorrow for a complete stranger completely gone. He probably thought about what he was going to have for dinner later.

 

It made Jimin sick where he walked, hands tightly wound togther to prevent himself from punching something. He felt constricted, black suit way too tight and neatly styled hair way too smothering. Even his shoes bothered him, the polish so well done that he could see his own miserable face; reflection disrupted by the ever falling water droplets.

 

Dull eyes scanned the company, full of faces he didn't recognize and full of faces he hadn't seen in ages; all gathered solely for this. After the ceremony, they'd eat cake and quietly converse about the stupid and wonderful things Seokjin had managed to do during his short life.

 

Jimin would probably laugh along with the adults, covering up nimble hands as he stole a sip or twenty from the opened wine bottle in the middle of the table. No one would notice, and if they did, no one would say anything. Then they'd go parted ways again, never to see each other again. Jimin would return home, ignore his mother's calls for him to take a shower before he caught a cold and just lay down and wallow in self pity.

 

Maybe he'd fish up his phone from his back pocket after that, dull eyes staring at numbers he hadn't used in many years before pressing the call button. Jeongguk would probably answer, voice just as dull as Jimin's. Either they'd decide to meet up somewhere, or they would just end it there. Jimin at least knew that he needed to hear the younger talk, to make sure that he hadn't jumped of a faraway bridge somewhere, because if the face said male was currently making was any indication enough; suicide was very plausible.

 

Jimin gritted his teeth, fists balling and fingernails digging into the rugged skin of his palms.

 

The other adults in the sombre company didn't even bat an eyelash, not even Seokjin's parents; his mother's impatient foot tapping against the wet grass beneath her shiny black stilettos, face incredibly disintrested as the priest started talking.

 

''We are gathered here today to-''

 

Jimin scoffed, glare directed at everything and nothing in particular as the sparesly decorated casket was slowly lowered down into the dark, muddy hole in front of them. Jimin felt sick. What an unsightly burial for such a beautiful person. He deserved so much more, like being covered in roses, the whitest of white with a casked made of glass. Of course his parents hadn't spared the burial details much thought, leaving it up to his grandparents.

 

They didn't have much money, Jimin knew this and he did all he could to contribute, but all he could do with his lowpay part time job salary was buying a few bouquets of lilies, who had stupidly enough been forgotten in the flowershop storage.

 

So there he was, money wasted on nothing; he couldn't even give his friend the beauty he deserved.

 

Jimin gritted his teeth again, jaw clenching so hard that he could feel it dislocate. He didn't care though, the pain far less than what his beloved Jin-hyung had felt the last minutes of his life; lying on the ground somewhere between Seoul and Anyan. He did have himself to blame, just a little bit, since he decided to go there by bike.

 

Jimin had stared at him in disbelief as he had explained his plan to Jimin, overly excited over the phone; mid-day traffic buzzing wildly behind him.

 

''It'll be fun! Like a mini vacation, and yes, I'll be careful Jiminnie.''

 

Jimin could practically see him beaming from the other hand as he remembered the call, the last words he ever heard from him before that wretched mercedes had mercilessly crashed into Seokjin's vulnerable form.

 

The driver showed no regrett, no sorrow, no remorse as he was brought in for questioning. All he did was shrug his shoulders with a small sigh. Jimin had never wanted to kill anyone so badly before, never had he wanted to wrap his hands around someone elses throat before. The urge grew stronger and stronger until he could no longer contain it, resorting to punch his father for the stupidest reason.

 

Then he broke down into tears. His father didn't say anything, he didn't yell at him, nor did he scold him; all he did was hug him, quietly dragging his hand through his hair as Jimin bawled.

 

He still felt like choking the life out of the man, but the prison bars stopped him. That was probably for the best. Ragged breaths escaped his mouth as the quiet weeps around him and the priest's monotone voice mingled together into a loud buzz.

 

He didn't want to listen, didn't want to accept it because there was-

 

''No way that he's actually dead..''

 

A low whisper, so low that Jimin wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't meant for him to hear. The voice was low, raspy and filled with so much sorrow that Jimin felt his breath hitch. Jimin could only nod, not being able to tear his eyes away from the no longer visible coffin.

 

''It almost feels like he'd jump out of there any second, scolding us all for not wearing clothes.''

 

A small huff of pained laughter escaped the stranger's throat and Jimin found himself smiling bitterly. ''It does indeed..'' he croaked out, eyes traveling over to the male next to him. A cold, deathly pale face was what met him, eyes dull and tired; dark blue bags hanging heavily from his eyesockets. Even his hair was dull, having lost it's shine from hours of sadness and as grey as the sky above them. A truly pitiful sight.

 

It was almost like looking into a mirror.

 

''But he won't, now will he?''

 

The male swallowed, eyes meeting Jimin's. Jimin shook his head, not trusting his voice. The male nodded, quiet tears slowly making their way down his pale cheeks to mingle together with the rain.

 

''Don't cry. He'd be angry if you did.''

 

The male let out another huff of laughter. ''You're not one to talk.'' he murmured, reaching up to wipe the tears away from Jimin's cold cheek.

 

''I'm not.''

 

''Don't lie.''

 

''I can't.''

 

''I know.''

 

Suit clad arms covered Jimin's shaking shoulders as he cried, pulling him forward into a tight hug. Jimin didn't know the man, but Seokjin did, so he saw no reason as to why he wouldn't cry. They all were after all.

 

''In the father's, the lords and the holy spirit's name; may you rest in peace.''

 

Jimin stubbornly dried his face with his free hand, the other tightly clasped in the grey haired male's next to him. His eyes locked with Jeongguk's, dull and empty as tears flowed down his pale cheeks. He shook his head as he looked at Jimin, mouthing a 'He's not dead, Jimin.'

 

Jimin could only frown, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around the shivering teen. Apparently someone besides him had the same idea as the contrast of sudden colour against the grey and black surroundings covered his view. The owner of the fiery hair pulling Jeongguk into a tight hug while looking over at Jimin with a deep frown before turning all attention to the crying teen in his arms.

 

''I don't know about you, but I sure hell ain't staying here..''

 

The stranger next to him sounded angry, understandably so as he watched the rest of the funeral guests hurry away from the grave and into the chapel next to them. They were already smiling, shaking hands with people and exchanging names.

 

''I feel like throwing up..'' he murmured, feet swaying as he staggered backwards. A gentle tug on his hand kept him in place though as an arm wrapped around his waist.

 

''Let's get a reason for throwing up first.''

 

Jimin glanced over his shoulder and up into the face of a grim looking male, suit jacket a bit too tight over broad shoulders and hands stuffed into his pockets. Jimin could only nod.

 

He didn't know how he ended up there, inside a crowded bar with four strangers and a since long lost childhood friend. No one said anything, all they did was stare down at the drinks in their hand. Jimin knew that he should say something, especially about Jeongguk sitting next to him with a shot of vodka in front of him. He knew that Seokjin would have if he were there.

 

The first one to move was said teenager, downing the shot without any trouble and Jimin frowned; unconciously moving to flick his forehead.

 

''How many times have you done that before, huh?''

 

Jeongguk stared at him, bunny eyes wide as saucers. Jimin blinked back, suddenly realizing what he had done as his hand slowly lowered itself. Jeongguk continued to stare, hand rubbing the place where Jimin flicked for a few seconds.

 

Then a loud bark of laughter erupted from somewhere around the table. Jimin suspected it to be the owner of the red hair, who's name he later got to know whas Taehyung, but it soon mingled together with so many others that Jimin couldn't keep track anymore.

 

He didn't even know when his own voice had joined the group.

 

''I guess you'll be the next mother figure then?'' Taehyung teased a few drinks later, eyebrows wiggling as he downed the rest of whatever his glass had to offer.

 

Jeongguk frowned. ''Please, no.''

 

''What, are you saying that I'm a bad parent?'' Jimin glared.

 

''I'm just saying that violence doesn't always work.''

 

Another burst of laughter washed over Jimin and he stuck his tongue out. ''I only beat you because you deserve it, brat.'' Jeongguk rolled his eyes before leaning back into his seat with a small smile and Jimin frowned. He knew that smile, he knew that Jeongguk tried to acts trong; tried to be the brave one, even though it was his lover who died. Even thoug it was his everything that got brutally smashed against the stone cold pavement.

 

Yet he smiled, eyes drifting over to look Jimin in the eyes as he flicked his forehead in a teasing manner.

 

''You really do sound like him..''

 

Those words echoed through Jimin's mind until early morning when he found himself waking up in a strange bed in a strange apartment, a merciless headache pounding inside his skull. A groan squeezed itself through his dry throat, followed by a cough.

 

He groaned again while turning over to lay on his side, eyelids heavy and dangerously close to fall shut again. They did too, as a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and grey hair tickle against his bare shoulder.

 

''Yoongi...?'' he murmured softly, praying that he'd actually gotten the right name in the midst of their drunken chaos. The grunt he received was confirmation enough and he exhaled slowly.

 

''Why did it have to be him?'' Yoongi sighed quietly, arms tightening around Jimin's waist. Silence enveloped the pair, heavy and suffocating as tears slowly slid down Jimin's face.

 

''A gardener always plucks the most beautiful flower first, do they not?''

 

Jimin smiled bitterly, tears soaking the white pillowcase beneath him.

 

''It better become a damn beautiful bouquet then.''