Notes:

Hello lovely readers,

We just wanted to say thanks for all the love you've shown the story so far, and as a surprise gift, this is Pollux's alternative ending for the story. It begins at the same place Chapter 2 does and involves no character death, but has more romance. Feel free to leave comments, suggestions, etc., below and check us out at castor-and-pollux on Tumblr if you have time <3 We hope you enjoy!

~Castor & Pollux

 

---

Two days later, Jungkook had forgotten about the shamans. It was almost Valentine’s Day and Jimin had been positively glowing recently. He finished his project, whatever it was. Jungkook was not as lucky; another assignment was coming up. Another day he would run the risk of making a mistake, of not moving fast enough or moving too fast, of not coming home to Jimin.

He closed his eyes, forcefully willing such thoughts from his head. When he opened his eyes, it was again Jimin that filled his field of visions, laying on the bed next to him, his chest rising and falling softly in slumber. The warmth of the dazzling rays of sunlight was seeping into the blankets so comfortable and heavy Jungkook didn’t want to move lest he lose some of the small piece of heaven he had just been gifted. It was at time like these when he felt the most alive, safe together with Jimin by his side, and not a fear too big that couldn’t be soothed by the angel’s face blinking in front of his.

A fond smile playing at the corners of his mouth, Jungkook propped himself up on his elbow and brought his free hand up to comb through Jimin’s hair, softly slipping through his fingers like silk worthy of a king.

“Jimin, oh Jiminie~”

“Hmm? Kookie?” Jimin frowned, rubbing his eyes as he attempted to sit up, dazed with eyes still blinking away sleep. “Why are you awake so early?”

“No real reason,” Jungkook smiled fondly as he picked up a confused and protesting Jimin and carried him to the couch. “Just thought that we haven’t danced in a while.”

“Danced?” The corners of Jimin’s mouth lifted and his eyes twinkled as he pulled himself free. “Jungkook, it’s four in the morning. You have the weirdest timing.” His gaze searching Jungkook’s expression, a sweet smile slipped onto his face. “But you’re right, it has been a while.” Dropping a hand languidly from Jungkook’s soft cheek, Jimin traced his way down the other’s strong arm with deft fingers teasing as they danced. “May I have this dance, princess?”

“Of course,” Jungkook grinned, leaning close to Jimin as he pulled his lover up. Right arm snaking around Jimin’s waist, he pressed their swaying bodies together, feet moving slowly to the imaginary music. Resting his chin in the crook of Jimin’s collarbone, Jungkook whispered huskily, “But isn’t that my line?”

“Shut up, you idiot.” Jimin smirked as he let his head loll to lay against on the taller man’s chest, his eyelids fluttering softly.

By the time the sun had risen, the two had collapsed onto the sofa, all tangled up in one another. Jungkook was mouthing kisses up Jimin’s neck as the shorter giggled and leaned in to press his face into the crook of Jungkook’s neck to get better access in nibbling at the other’s jaw line and earlobe. As Jimin hummed contently into the sun-kissed skin of his lover, Jungkook shifted to press a soft kiss to Jimin’s forehead gently. “I want to stay like this forever.”

“Me too.” Jimin smiled softly, his eyes crinkling into his happy eye-smile. “Forever seems nice.”

“Mm, forever,” Jungkook let the word roll over his tongue, tentatively savoring its taste. It tasted perfect, he decided, before he pressed his lips to Jimin’s, tasting his mouth and the sweet hint of candy on those soft, plush lips. Forever was perfect, just like Jimin.

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

The shaman paused for a second as the two boys watched her, fascinated. She would have to skip this next part. “And then he promised Jimin their forever before walking out the door.” However, that’s not everything that happened...

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

Taking in everything he could before he had to go, Jungkook broke off the kiss to stare at the man below him, cheeks flushed the pink color of newly budded flowers in valleys hidden from the destruction of mankind - the kind of nature he knew was out there, ready to hide them away. Jimin was staring back up at him, warm brown irises dilated as they searched Jungkook’s face as if carving every piece of him like a statue. His lips were still parted and slightly swollen red, begging for Jungkook to come back and seal some forbidden contract between men, to take Jimin then and there and taste him until Jungkook would be colored by him. Small short breaths rose and fell on the smaller man’s chest as Jungkook cupped Jimin’s cheeks in his hands, savoring how the curve fit perfectly and how Jimin’s lips curved up ever so slightly.

“Babe?” Jimin cocked his head to the side before reaching up to pull Jungkook down to kiss him.

“It’s nothing,” Jungkook muttered in between kisses.

Laughing, Jimin sat up and pushed Jungkook down into the mattress instead, straddling him. “Are you sure?” He breathed out, fingers teasingly creeping over the waistband of the other’s pants. Lying on top of Jungkook, Jimin smirked, looking every bit like a fallen angel, purposely widening his eyes and batting his eyelashes, mouth tantalizingly parted to whisper his name. “Jungkook?”

At this, Jungkook groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes that he could wipe the image from his mind, lest he be late for work. “Babe-” However, his eyes snapped open with a hitch in his breath as he felt a slight shift of weight above him from Jimin, whose fingers had begun to creep up under Jungkook’s thin white shirt.

“I’m going to be late to work,” He choked out, grabbing one of Jimin’s wrists. “Please.”

Laughing, the smaller man easily slid off of him and stood there, admiring his handiwork. Jungkook knew that his hair was disheveled and there was no mistaking the loud thumping in his chest, which seemingly echoed throughout the room. Taking a few deep breaths, he got up and pressed one last chaste kiss to his lover’s lips.

At the door, he looked back, eyes softening at the man who was beginning to shrug on an oversized sweater, and promised, “We’ll have our forever, Jimin. We’ll live on a beach and we’ll dance all day and watch the sun rise and set. Someday, Jimin, that’ll be our forever.”

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

But these were young children and she couldn’t tell them that, or the sake of preserving their childhood innocence in this life.

“He just left? And then?” The shorter boy asked, his mouth wide open.

“Shh. Let her continue.”

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

It had been more than two hours. Jimin hummed happily as he wrapped his project, Jungkook’s face still lingering in his mind. They might not have their forever yet, but he had captured parts of it there. Placing the object on the table, he leaned back in a chair. It was only noon and there was nothing else to do until Jungkook got back.

“Useless.” The air seemed to whisper mockingly.

Jimin pouted and shook his fist at the air. “I’m not useless!”

“Then do something, silly.” It was Jungkook’s imaginary voice this time. Jimin smiled; he had been meaning to get eggs for that cake...

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

“Can he even go outside?”

The shaman laughed a bit at the taller boy’s question. “That’s a good question. I’ll let the story answer it.”

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

Jungkook grinned, holding up the bracelet to the sun as it twinkled red and orange. Jimin would love it, he was sure. It was only one in the afternoon and he already finished his assignment, and was in the market looking around, as he did from time to time.

There were always interesting things being sold, from simple foods to elaborate machines or weapons. However, today, Jungkook was interested in buying Jimin a present, and what had caught his eye was a beautiful bracelet to match his beautiful lover. Red, gold, and orange, he was sure it would look gorgeous on Jimin’s flushed skin. “How much is it?”

“Can you help me find a customer who has been refusing payment?”

“When?”    

“Will tomorrow work?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s yours...”

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

Now in the foods section of the marketplace, Jimin suspiciously sniffed a basket of eggs before returning them to the vendor with a polite “no thank you.” He frowned unhappily. How hard was it supposed to be to find good eggs? Why was the market so sketchy?

Comfortingly patting the gun Jungkook had given him a year before at his side, Jimin moved on to the next little market stall. “Do you sell eggs? Chicken specifically.”

“Are you sure? We also have duck, lizard, and others. They’re quite exotic and well-worth the price.”

Nose scrunching in distaste, Jimin replied, “Chicken please. Here’s the money.”

“Suit yourself.”

As three eggs tumbled into his basket, the vendor gave a small shriek and scampered away into the crowd. Confused, Jimin tried to turn around but a sharp pain seared across his side. An iron grip latched onto his left forearm, locking him in place, the owner of which leaned in next to his ear. “Yeah, suit yourself, Mr. Jeon’s husband.”

“Who are you?” Jimin grit his teeth as he felt the knife cut deeper into his skin. His eyes flicked left and right but the passer bys simply spared his pleading expression a glance before melting back into the crowd. Warning bells went off in his head. Jungkook had said they were used to day-time murder.

“You don’t need to know. Just know the name of the girl over there.” The man slid the knife across Jimin’s side, leaving an angry red line, before using it to point through the throngs of people to a young girl, no older than fifteen or sixteen, standing straight with her chin raised scornfully, watching them from another stall. “She hired me. Told me all about you and your filthy mercenary husband-”

“He’s not filthy,” Jimin hissed angrily. “You’re the filthy one.”

“That’s not what the young lady says,” the man sneered back, bringing to knife up to Jimin’s neck this time, his threatening voice carrying some story about how Jungkook had murdered her family.

Jimin gulped. Jungkook was still at work. “Stupid,” he whispered to himself, voice wavering as the knife rested on his skin. The man kept talking and the girl was still watching. He thought of the gun at his side.

One chance. Jimin tried breathing in and out shallowly, his free right hand inching toward his inner thigh. It was the gun Jungkook had given him for his last birthday, for protection he had said. He had also joked that Jimin would never need it as long as Jungkook was with him, but he still taught him to shoot.

“Always shoot twice,” he reminded himself. “Shoot twice and he’ll be down. Shoot twice or you won’t see Jungkook again.”

“What was that?” The man leaned in aggressively.

Jimin’s fingers tightened around the gun. He thought of Jungkook and the forever he had agreed to. “Nothing.”

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

The vendor was cut off by gunshots and a scream. Jungkook whipped his head around. It had come from the foods section.

“Yours.” The vendor completed his sentence, placing the bracelet in Jungkook’s outstretched hand. “Sir, are you okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” Jungkook quickly pocketed it and walked a few steps in the direction of the apartment. Then, he spun around and broke out into a walk towards the food section.

“It can’t be. It can’t be.” Words tumbled from his mouth as he started to run. The scream had sounded like Jimin. He knew that was impossible, but it had. “He shouldn’t be here.” Jungkook’s heart clenched in his chest as he pushed past the crowd.

It wouldn’t be him. Murders happened all the time in this city. Jimin was at home. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t-

A whip of blonde hair flashed by him. He snapped his head around in horror. He knew her. She had been the child left behind by one of his missions. And though she didn’t seem to have seen him, she was holding a gun and limping, leaving a trail of blood in her wake, the eerily familiar drops swimming in his vision.

“No.” He pulled out a knife as he ran forward, faster, not caring who he shoved out of the way. It wouldn’t be him.

Then, right before he reached the scene, he heard her again. A fleeting, haunting voice from the crowd. The shaman.

“I told you.”

His eyes widened as he tumbled forward and fell to his knees at the sight. It was Jimin.

Jimin, his beautiful, precious Jimin. Jimin, who he had promised a forever together with that morning. Jimin, who lay there with a bullet through his arm and a man dead a few feet to the side, a gun and knife lying next to the body.

His legs felt like jello as he crawled to Jimin’s side.

“Jimin? Oh my god, Jimin, are you okay?”

“Jungkook?”

His eyes focused and Jungkook gasped with short-lived relief. “Yeah, Jiminie, it’s me. I’m here now, I’m here, baby.”

“Kookie,” Jimin’s hand was shaking as he reached up, and Jungkook grabbed it quickly, placing Jimin’s hand on his face. Rubbing small circles tenderly, he barely registered the blood on Jimin’s hands. Jimin’s face was pained as he whispered, “I shot her, babe. A little girl.”

A moment of red consumed Jungkook before a tug on his hand brought him back to Jimin. “She shot you,” He protested, voice rising. “She ing shot you!” A few spectators wavered, shocked by his volume, but he couldn’t focus on them.

“I didn’t think she’d have a gun,” Jimin laughed weakly. “She’s stronger than I was at her age.”

He was going into shock and Jungkook could see it plain as day. The same lack of focus in the eyes, the same light-headedness, the same delirium he himself had effected on others. Jungkook forced himself to stay calm as Jimin’s voice rose in pitch.

“Everything was so red, and loud. I thought you were gone. I thought-”

“No, no, no. We’ve been together for years, Jiminie, I won’t leave now.” He looked down at Jimin’s arm and a curling tendril of panic began to worm its way around his mind. There was blood everywhere, most of it likely to be Jimin’s. Too much blood. The bullet was still lodged. He grabbed a spectator by the leg, pulling his knife out against their throat angrily. “You! Call the ambulance!” Shaking the man loose with a strangled agreement, he pointed his knife at yet another vendor. “What the hell are you doing? Don’t you have cloth or something?” He must have looked half mad because the usually aloof vendor tossed him a rag in pity before turning back to their customer.

“You!-” He was about to threaten yet another onlooker when Jimin pulled at his arm feebly.

“Kookie, what are you doing? Why do you have a knife?” There was a hint of panic in his voice as he looked up pleadingly.

Jungkook felt his chest tighten as the knife in his hand grew heavier. “Nothing, Jiminie. Everything’s alright, don’t worry.” Expertly cutting off the bloodied part of Jimin’s shirt, he used the rag to try and stop the bleeding, but he knew Jimin had already lost a lot of blood. As he applied pressure to the area, Jimin groaned in pain and Jungkook dragged his eyes back to meet Jimin’s, tenderly reaching up to cup his face with one hand. “Hey, it’ll be alright. We’re going to have our forever together, remember? Don’t you remember, baby?”

“Oh.” A calmness relaxed Jimin’s features and he smiled as his eyes drifted, “right, Kookie? I bought the eggs so let’s have cake for Valentine’s Day.”

“Eggs-” Jungkook choked back tears. Jungkook could hear and see the people moving in the background but he knew the ambulance would never come in time. In this damned city where no one cared who dies and who lives, only about themselves. He wanted to scream, but he took Jimin’s free hand with his other hand instead. He tried to smile as he rubbed the back of Jimin’s hand in small circles and pulled Jimin closer, pressing his lips to his forehead. “Yeah- yeah. We’ll have cake and then we can live our forever together. On the beach remember? We said we’d grow old together with sunrises and sunsets. And then we can have cake whenever you want. And dance whenever we want. You wanna dance right? And I’ll stay home all day-”

Jimin frowned, squeezing Jungkook’s hand. “Kookie, you’re rambling. Why can’t we go home now?”

“We can’t. You-” Jungkook looked down at his lover, his lip trembling. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“But I was going to surprise you today.” Jimin’s breath hitched and Jungkook’s heart clenched. “I finished the project, it’s on the dinner table.” His voice had grown even quieter. “Let’s take a photo together tomorrow at sunrise. It’s the finishing piece for the project.”

Jungkook nodded stiffly, aware of the movement around them. Passerbys were leaving, having apparently procured enough gossip for the day. A few vendors had tried to move closer in attempts to attract a larger audience, yet no one cared about Jimin. The ambulance had not arrived and Jungkook doubted that it ever would. Suddenly, he felt like it was him and Jimin against the world; or maybe it had always been that way.

Voice firm, he pulled Jimin close, “We’re going home, Jiminie. You can show me the project, okay?”

When he got a feeble nod in response, Jungkook scooped up Jimin into his arms, like how he had done so many times in the past few years, but this time he felt heavier, more fragile. Carefully resting Jimin’s injured arm against his chest, he stood up, chin held high, as if daring the spectators to oppose him.

But no one did. Sliding away like shadows in the night, they disappeared into the crowd like they always did. Angry tears streaking down his cheeks, Jungkook had made his way back the apartment, carefully carrying Jimin in his arms.

By the time he had entered the living room, Jimin was already faded in and out of consciousness, his eyelids fluttering as if with a deep sleep on the horizon. Gently placing him on the couch, Jungkook got up shakily to find the gift-wrapped project Jimin had wanted him to see.

“Jiminie, I have it now.” Jungkook tried to shake Jimin gently but was met with only a few groans of pain and closed eyes. Sitting on the ground beside the couch, he unwrapped the project, all the while dictating his thoughts to Jimin. It was an oil painting of him and Jimin, holding hands as they sat on a front porch watching the sun rise, their shadows kissing. Behind it was another album, this one was empty save the first two pictures. One was a picture of him sleeping as the sun rose. Another was a picture of Jimin smiling happily with the sunrise in the background. As tears blurred his vision, Jungkook wrapped his arms around Jimin. “Jimin. Jiminie.”

As the familiar weight of Jimin’s head lolled to rest against his shoulder, Jungkook frantically wiped at his tears. His blood was pounding in his head and he had to blink rapidly to see straight. He couldn’t hear it. The shallow thump of Jimin’s heartbeat was gone.

“Jimin!” Jungkook’s fingers immediately went to Jimin’s neck, searching, canvassing for a heartbeat. A second passed. Then five more.

He checked the wrist. The temple. Nothing.

“No.” Jungkook whimpered softly as his hand fell, trembling, to his side, “No, Jimin please.”

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

“Is that the end?” The shorter boy sniffled, tears still falling down his cheeks.

“No,” the shaman answered gently. “Not yet.”

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

Hugging Jimin to his chest, Jungkook let sobs rack his body as tears mixed with the blood drying on his shirt. He no longer knew whose blood it was, or whose shirt, but he no longer cared. Jimin’s scent still lingered in the room, now filled with the metallic taste of blood and rust and acrylic paint, and Jungkook breathed it in a large gulps like a man drowning. Jimin’s scent, his eyes, his smile, his lips. His everything.

And his heart. In the most traumatic human experiences, it often occurs that the most random of details are observed, and it was no different for Jungkook. His mind wandered away from the body in front of him to Jimin’s voice laughing that he had wanted only his heart cremated, so the ashes could be scattered to the wind and he could be with Jungkook anywhere anytime. But as Jimin lay there, no longer responsive and fingers cold, Jungkook knew he could not bear to go through with the cremation of Jimin’s heart. Not yet.

After all, those kind of wishes were so romantic, so ridiculously made in the spur of the moment. They had been everything Jimin stood for, and now, everything he fell for.

In some desperate attempt to put some dramatic end to the day, to somehow give Jimin the beautiful end he so desired, Jungkook pressed his lips to Jimin’s softly, as if that could finally sealed the forbidden deal he had been so scared of before. He would’ve given his life to save Jimin and he knew that now so clearly, warm tears flowing down his cheeks. Outside, nature seemed to be scorning this realization. The sun had set and no ray of sunshine beckoned to him, nor did a ray of moonlight invite him to come cry in the forest and drown his tears in the river. No, the only thing that met him was the absolute darkness of the night and the loud beating of his own heart.    

Lips quivering, he laid beside the body of his lover. Resigning himself to one last night by Jimin’s side, Jungkook smoothed a thumb over those familiar lips again before curling up, pressed close to Jimin’s side.

“I love you,” He whispered into the night.

There was no reply save that of a few crickets and the rustling of the wind and the faint beating of drums. But before he too slipped into some state of unconscious, Jungkook pressed closer. If it was some witch hunt or gang coming to kill him like Jimin had always thought they would, he wished they would at least give him some peace from the drum beats thumping louder. Oh, if fate was so evil as to give him some last memory of such a procession, as if laughing at him with the imitation of heartbeats.

Heartbeats.

Jungkook opened his eyes warily and got up. He no longer heard any drums.

Some strange emotion possessed him and he fell back on the floor and pressed his head to Jimin’s chest, some incantation of “please” falling from his lips feverishly like a prayer.

And with each whisper, the faint sound grew stronger.

Heartbeats.

And they weren’t his own.

Before he could reach up to press his fingers against Jimin’s neck, small shaky fingers brushed against his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

“Was he actually alive?” The taller boy asked.

“Of course,” The shaman laughed. “They go on to live their happily-ever-after, their forever.”

“That’s impossible.” The taller boy was still frowning, but his features had softened.

“No, it’s not!” The younger boy glared, wiping his tears on the taller boy’s shirt. “True love always wins!”

“Not over death,” The taller scoffed.

“Oh, really?” The shaman smiled.

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

A week had passed. Jimin had been forcefully admitted to the local hospital and then forcefully discharged, with Jungkook constantly by his side, as well as Jungkook’s guns and knives, all laid out neatly as if warning the doctors and nurses passing by not to try anything funny. He had demanded to remain no less than a foot away from his lover and they had unwillingly agreed.

So Jungkook had been with Jimin every step of the way, from when the doctor had explained his fainting or death-like symptoms as a result of shock and timidly asked Jungkook if it was possible that he was too panicked to properly check for a pulse, to when the nurse had come in with the information that an antibiotic and several bandages later, Jimin would be healing by himself in no time.

And when Jungkook had heard the words “healing by himself” a day before Valentine’s Day, he picked up one of his guns and told the nurse to discharge Jimin -immediately.

To the poorly hidden relief of their doctor, she had signed the forms and Jimin had let Jungkook pick him up bridal-style again, with several half-hearted protests that he was fine and that Jungkook should sleep.

When they had arrived home, the sky was still dark in the early morning, and though it was the same chilly darkness of the day from a week before, Jungkook noticed nothing but the warmth in his arms.

Setting Jimin down on the steps in front of their home, he had rushed inside for a good ten minutes before running back out with the painting in his hands, camera wrapped around his neck, and another object in his pocket.

“You brought it.” Jimin smiled happily, taking the camera from Jungkook’s neck as he placed the painting beside them.

“The album’s not going to finish itself, is it?” Jungkook pulled Jimin onto his lap, their fingers laced together between them. As his lover clicked away at the camera, he watched fondly. The smooth crinkle of Jimin’s eye-smile, his soft lips, the brightness in his eyes, he memorized them all for the hundredth time and vowed to do so another hundred more.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, tentatively casting its warm red and gold rays on the gray city, Jungkook watched the light envelop Jimin, bathing him in the same vibrant hues that suited him. A small smile danced across his lips, reminding him of the object in his pocket.

“Jiminie. You know I love you, right?”

“Mm, yeah. I love you, too. Why the question?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Jimin titled his head towards Jungkook, a pleasantly surprised look on his face that told Jungkook to “keep going, explain.”

Jungkook grinned childishly, a hand fishing quickly in his pocket before procuring the desired object. The warm glow of the sunrise enhancing its colors, he presented the bracelet to Jimin, who gasped out loud. “I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

“This is beautiful,” Jimin gushed. The cold metal warming against his skin, he let Jungkook clasp it around his wrist before looking up slyly. “You said two birds. What’s the second?”

A blush crept across Jungkook’s face. Coughing sheepishly, he gestured at the painting. “It’s a promise for our forever. The sunrise. Sealed with a kiss.”

“And?”

“I thought I’d seal it.” Jungkook leaned in toward Jimin so their foreheads were touching, his hands reaching up to gently cup Jimin’s face. Tenderly looking into Jimin’s eyes for a second, he let his eyelids flutter closed as he tilted up Jimin’s face to meet his own. And he sealed his promise, with a kiss.

 

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲

 

“See? Love wins even over death!” The younger boy exclaimed.

“Just wait until they have white hair. It’ll be different then.”

“But you said you’ll stay with me forever and wait for me at the bridge even after we have white hair right? Right?”

The taller boy rolled his eyes and ruffled the other’s hair before pulling him to his feet. “Come on, Min-ah. We’ll be late for chores.” Quickly picking off little pieces of grass from the smaller boy’s hair and clothes, the taller turned to the shaman with a polite nod. “Thank you for the story, ma’am.”

“You didn’t answer me,” The smaller whined, hammering the taller’s chest with small fists. “The sun hasn’t set yet either.” Large puppy eyes appeared but quickly turned into crescents as a wide smile broke out on his face. “Can we come back tomorrow?”

The elder sighed but the shaman saw how the boy hid his grin and how his eyes sparkled in the last rays of sunlight. “Of course.”

Squealing, the smaller grabbed the taller’s hands. “I love you!”

A faint blush tinging the taller’s cheeks, a few more clumsy bows were executed as the pair left with some faint “Yes, yes, I love you too”s and “The answer’s yes”s and “Forever”s to be heard.

And as the boys’ voices faded into the sunset with their silhouettes, she smiled —she had been right all along. No matter the time or place, they were meant to find each other again.

⠠⠿⠐⠑⠲