He’s not supposed to be here.

That’s the first thing Jimin understands. He’s not supposed to be here.

Why was he here?

He’s not sure what he sees. What he hears- where he is, or what he is.

A Being stands before him.

Jimin’s not sure but they appeared to hold the appearances of every race within Menigišiti within their features. Features that seem to stretch and snap into place continuously- a struggle within the form, breaching within itself, pushing and reaching but ultimately falling back into place, into a whole.

For a moment, Jimin wonders if he’s strayed into a dream. Or maybe this was all still a dream.

A horrific dream.

He looks around.

There are forms and shapes past the blur that seems to cover his eyes but focuses sharply on the figure before him.

They’re not very tall.

Some inches shorter than Jimin himself.

Distantly, he hears a pulse.

Wait, no- something was wrong. Jimin is not supposed to be here. He was supposed to go to the facilitator. The facilitator that had been abandoned, malfunctioning and in need of repairs. He had read the reports, listened to the Wenedi about the situation, but was reassured that the structures were sound but in need of internal repairs. This was decades before he set out for Megibīya, not knowing it would be the last time he would in that lifetime.

He was supposed to go to the facilitator and he was supposed to use the time Amme bought for him, get the others out of the planet, and stop Tsirin’s mechanisms from further destroying their System.

He was not supposed to be here-

^{you are where you are supposed to be}

The voice carries to him from all directions. But Jimin knows it’s from the figure before him.

_{I am the light behind your eyes, the light that encircles the Heart, the light that hides, the light that reflects. I am-}

‘-Yino.’

Upon realization, Yino’s shape shifts into something that does not stay still. She is everything all at once- an emergence of forces and gravity and light and darkness and creation.

If Jimin could fall to his knees he would have. But here, before Yino, upon his realization, he too loses form and he finds himself formless.

^{you are here}

‘I am.’ Jimin pants out, ‘How- how, I’m not- I’m not supposed to be here-‘

^{you cannot break me}

Jimin doesn’t know what to think, let alone say to Yino.

^{you shouldn’t}

_{we will all fade we will fade}

^{but do not break us}

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about-?’

_{you hesitate to break the promise you hesitate yet you will you already are you already have please do it we will all fade the time has come, in this continuum, for all of us to fade we will all fade we must fade}

^{why do you break it}

_{break us we should have all died}

^{we cannot die}

_{break it you have to break it}

^{do not break it}

Yino approaches closer and closer, her form, her shape, spreading all over before the center of Jimin’s vision focuses on a strangely glitching mass.

‘Please stop it,’ Jimin whispers, he begs, his whole body shaking with an emotion he cannot pinpoint or name. he was before Yino- the First Children, existing before Time and Space and Continuum – everything Tsirin was doing was against what Yino would want, what Yino promised. She could stop it. ‘Stop Tsirin. I know you can. You have to. You cannot- you cannot possibly allow this to happen. Look at what’s happened to your children- look at what was created because of your promise. Look at how it has been manipulated-‘

^{it is as it is, as it was- as it was always}

‘What?’

^{I made the promise that we would exist}

_{to be beyond what we were supposed to be}

^{to create so we could continue to exist}

_{to live}

^{to be more than nothing}

_{to hide}

‘What- what are you talking about?’ Jimin breaths out, barely audible even to himself in this din of space that was Yino.

_{this continuum is nothing more than a mimicry a fallacy a failure}

^{I was birthed and made and then shunned and destroyed I will not fade I said I would not fade I SAID I WOULD NOT FADE!}

Jimin is thrown into the far edges of the Universe, into places where matter and space and time had a mind of their own, hiding from the expansion of the Known as it accelerated on, laying out dimensions and forms where even chaos could not step foot.

^{I hid and I hid – I hid from him from the others from them I used what was made of me what was given of me to hide and to cower and to NOT FADE I WOULD NOT FADE I HID US I HID US I HID US I SAVED US}

Jimin is choked up- the Universe below him, the Universe is in his hands. Tiny, fragile- a multitude within a singularity that shatters in his palms, spread in an expanse he cannot comprehend, in an existence that expanded over and over again in so many lifetimes they are woven together and yet they fall apart, forming no picture, forming nothing but knots and loose threads.

^{I made you, I made all of you, to barricade and hide us}

_{I tied you, all of you, to a promise that was never fulfilled for me}

^{And we have existed and existed and existed and existed}

_{I hid}

^{I hid}

_{we hid}

Everything was wrong.

Jimin shrinks as the Universe consumes him.

Everything was wrong, everyone was wrong- he was wrong, Tsirin was wrong, Yino was wrong.

Their form stretches and breaks momentarily- opposite tails of a quasar, spiraling away from each other, two halves of a whole that twisted against and away from each other but unable to let go fully, unable to let go without losing themselves they clung on- they clung, balanced of each other, to lead and to guide, the Heart, and the Fate-

^{you can stop this}

_{you can’t stop this don’t do this I won’t fade}

^{we must fade we all will you must stop this}

Jimin kneels in his childhood home’s garden. He hears the sound of his mother’s voice, talking about something inconsequential to his father as he dishes out food into bowls.

A small child walks up to him, head tilted up to look at the sun, to look upon Yino.

‘Why are they so afraid?’

Another child, younger, is kneeling next to Jimin. He turns to look at the older child and asks again.

‘You can hear them, right? They’re so scared.’

‘I thought I heard two voices too, before, but I know it’s just one- I thought I heard two voices but the Wenedi tell me it’s because the promise holds true to two. Just like us, we’re two.’

‘Can you hear them?’

‘Her. I can hear her. They say she’s singing to protect us. We could ask the Wenedi again.’

‘I told them they’re scared. They said I was mistaken.’

‘Maybe we’re too young,’ the older child surmises. ‘To understand.’

He looks up at the sky, at the brilliant sun that protected them, that hid them, that cherished them so much she would go against her creator to hide and protect them, out of sheer love.

But she’s so clearly split in two – as was he, and his sister.

_{fear kept you hidden, fear kept me hidden}

^{heart settled you in, rooted in fear}

_{fate bonded you together, laced in belief}

^{heart formed in grief so deep a heart so fragile and uncertain}

_{fate lost, without anchor or light in the dark}

^{I had to push the heart, push it till it broke irreparably it was already time I had to do it I had to do it}

He truly knew nothing.

‘Did you know? That they killed our parents? It was all planned out- that’s our fate, that’s what we were supposed to experience, already written out for us before we were born,’ Tsirin spits out.

‘What are you talking about?’ Jimin pleads, ‘Tsirin- Tsirin please- anu and apa died naturally! Anu always had a weak heart, and apa overworked his- you know this-!’

‘It’s not true!’ she screams, truly looking deranged, ‘You don’t understand! You never will! They killed them!’

‘They?! Who?!’ Jimin demands, ‘Who would kill them?’

‘It- it was you- it was you-!’ Jimin stammers, thoughts half-formed, his mind reeling as the Universe consumes him.

it would have been it would have come to pass no matter

^{IT CANNOT BE YOU CANNOT BREAK US DON’T BREAK US I WON’T LEAVE}

In the brink of darkness, at the edge of nothing where even the music of the Universe couldn’t be heard, Jimin finds himself swallowed.

_{I had to I had to I’m sorry I had to this had to stop it all had to stop this will stop please just break it please just end it please-}

^{DON’T DON’T BREAK US DON’T BREAK US-!}

Jimin gasps and breathes in the Universe, rushing through and stumbling onto gravity as it compresses matter and movement and light, a planet forming beneath his palms.

‘I am not Tsirin. I am Yino.’ Tsirin had declared, madness radiating from her, ‘I am Yino, doing as she should have, not gone into hiding.’

‘You- you showed yourself to Tsirin- she was the key to start all of this- you did all of this- you used her,’ Jimin faintly mumbles out, fingers digging through the dirt that crumble into nothing as it is remade over and over again, layered over and over again as fear drives them to hide. ‘You used her- her grief, you pushed her to madness-!’

_{it would be just like this-}

‘Don’t say that-‘ Jimin gasps out, the planet is broken and reborn and remade, ‘Don’t- don’t you dare-‘

_{you need to break it}

^{don’t break it}

_{break us}

^{we should have all died-}

‘What will happen?’ Jimin seethes, his arms trembling as a strange heat slowly spreads through him from the pit of his stomach. More planets are made, orbiting a light unified and in harmony of fear, ‘What will happen when I break your promise too?’

‘I can break this- Yino split herself into the Heart, and into Fate- and I will combine it together again. We were born siblings for a reason, -and we will never be alone again.’

Tsirin misunderstood. Not that it mattered anyways. Or maybe he misunderstood it too. But that didn’t matter either anyways. Not anymore.

‘The Heart is always in harmony – the Heart always wants harmony,’ Tsirin smiles widely at him.

Because now it was just up to him- it was just up to him in the end. Tsirin already broke her promise- the Heart, the Mother- plowing through asunder. She believed she was bringing it all together- bringing them together – that’s what she wanted, harmony, unity- to be whole once more.

Jimin falls off the planet to stand before Yino.

The mass glitches in and out of shape and sound; a presence that seeps through the parameter of his vision- forcing it wider and wider until he sees himself within and without- set apart and away from his own being, beholding the magnitude of their presence within himself.

^nothing

_{and everything}

^{you will be apart, you will be a part}

_{you will be known, you will be unknown}

^{you will be a light, you will be extinguished}

‘I don’t want anything to happen to those who are a part of me- to those who are only here because of me- because of you-‘

_{I just want it to stop I need this to end to stop}

^{DON’T STOP THIS DON’T BREAK US DON’T-}

The heat within him ignites and a sudden rage blossoms through Jimin- rage he hadn’t even known was hidden so deep within him. Resentment, hurt, anger- for being a vessel of cruelty and hatred without understanding how or why. A vessel for a purpose that disregarded him, a vessel for a purpose masquerading as comfort and strength when it was all just a ploy for selfishness and fear. Pain erupts within him, pair and grief for losing everything- for what he knew he was going to lose.

‘-you lied! YOU LIED!’ he screams, his voice tearing through him to dim their light. ‘YOU MADE US! YOU MADE US AND YOU DESTROYED US! YOUR COWARDICE HAS BROKEN US LONG BEFORE WE EXISTED- THIS IS YOUR FAULT!’

He snaps back to shape, heaving on the ground in a slump, his being held together with the weight of his grief.

‘I have lost everything,’ he whispers, ‘I will lose everything- and it’s all because of a promise I never made. All because of a promise I have to bear. All because of you.’

_{you have to break it}

Jimin screams – anguish and pain tearing him apart and putting him back together.

^please

They’re cowered before him- two forms broken and heaving- no longer united, no longer balanced. They never were- not truly.

_please

‘I will break you,’ Jimin whispers, ‘As you have broken me. As you have broken Tsirin. As you have broken my heart- I will destroy you.’

_{Thank you}

*

He steps out from the din, leaves it completely even as it tries to draw him back in.

He isn’t quite a form- not a shape; he is nothing, he is everything.

Oh it’s perfect.

He pauses to listen.

The only sound that exists is of the stars and the endless dark. And above that, the strained weeping of a promise shattering.

He focuses his sight- all before him is new, renewed, reborn, and realized. There is no layered thought- no layered presence twisting his sight, shifting him around in lives lived and reinforced.

There is only light and darkness, life and memory, song and quiet, love and emptiness.

Yino was dying. There was nothing Taeh’yung could do. And even if he could, he wouldn’t.

Yino knew what she was doing; she knew that the weight of her promise would soon overwhelm those who had to bear it.

Also it’s not like Taeh’yung was particularly fond of the First Children anyways. Taeh’yung doesn’t think they’ve really done anything particularly useful or good so to speak. Although what Yino has done with her promise has somehow, strangely, twisted into a path that has allowed Taeh’yung to finally be so maybe there was some good in their cowardice and hypocrisy.

Destroying her, and feeding her poison brewed within the sanctity of her promises, is a broken heart used and strained and filled with frantic malice and desperate grief.

It’s sad- Taeh’yung supposes. All that love, with nowhere to go. No, it had somewhere to go. But it wasn’t where she wanted. It was misdirected.

Taeh’yung blinks- or at least he thinks he does. He’s not sure. He needed to become more- needed to be unto himself.

In light of this broken promise, the quiet finality of a completed and pure promise is nearly entirely diminished.

Taeh’yung knows this quiet finality. In a previous lifetime, he had met with this fragmented promise held together under the ancient and haunting light of the Bloodmoon. He knows this promise.

He should go to it.

It’s him- he looks…he looks different, yet the same. No red light taints his eyes, and no fragments pierce through his heart. Behind him, their hands on his shoulders, are his family.

Sk’jin looks him in the eyes and Taeh’yung familiarizes himself in the recognition he observes within the Khol’isa.

‘You can’t tell me what to do,’ his voice is silver starlight.

A new weight locks into him- it’s heavy, but it’s forgiving and relief floods him.

And like this, each loss is new.

‘This is mine.’

Taeh’yung can’t refute that.

This is his first loss.

An emptiness exists now where memories should have.

He holds it close to himself- taking in the emptiness in a way that’s never happened before. An emptiness that is foreign and uncomfortable. But he takes it in nonetheless- because it was his.

‘You lied to me.’

Taeh’yung focuses on the new voice, carrying through the silver.

He knows this voice too.

There’s a disturbance wrapped around the planet- it’s frustrating and sounds too much like the din of his previous life- a noise that was trying to permeate this expansive unknown with its sonorous din, unescapable and volatile. Taeh’yung would much rather have it all gone. And so he removes it.

Yino stutters- her breath stuck and with a final exhale, lets go of everything she held together as her promise tears her apart.

For a moment, Taeh’yung watches her diminish to what she would have been, what she should have been. Because, to his delight, all of life is nothing but continuum.

Then, as though some curtain was drawn aside, more voices creep up and Taeh’yung takes and observes their memories, their recognition, slowly sinking down towards the remaining strange discord that wrapped itself around this soulless and empty planet.

He hears their dreams so much clearer like this- watches as they walk on the surface, soon to be forgotten, soon to become song, heard only in the borders between elsewhere and everywhere.

He smiles as he comes upon a bright fire- burning bright and true, no longer restrained and afraid, but this time bright and strong.

He follows the wounded screams, desperately trying to-…actually, Taeh’yung doesn’t quite care. This was the remaining source of the din that haunted him for so long- and now he was free of it.

He would much rather everything else was freed of it too.

And then all of this, would be his.

*

‘You’re doing well.’

Jimin smiles up at his mother.

‘Like Tsirin?’

Tsirin sits up straighter, obviously pleased, carefully threading through the support rows of her own loom.

‘If you practice more, both you and Tsirin can help me complete the entrance tapestry.’

Tsirin gasps, eyes sparkling, the ring of light glowing brighter on her forehead.

‘We can?’ she asks in awe.

Their mother nods.

Jimin now wants nothing more than to weave everyday. The entrance tapestry was an important heirloom- the original tapestry hung in the sun room. But this new one would be the first of two the whole family would make, so that one day, when the children would grow up and become their own, they would start their homes with the family tapestry.

Jimin is dedicated. Tsirin had been weaving years before he started learning. If they were all going to start weaving the new entrance tapestries, Jimin would need to catch up.

The most difficult part for him is keeping the thread-ends neat in the back. Everything is a mess in the back, and when Jimin makes mistakes, it’s even more difficult to try and find a way to correct his mistake. Tsirin was neat. Of course, she had much more experience than he did, but this neatness seemed to come naturally to her.

‘Why can’t I just pull on a thread and undo the mistake?’ Jimin pouts at his tapestry pattern that has an unfortunate mistake that couldn’t be overlooked.

‘Everything is interwoven,’ his father explains, holding back a laugh at the mess Jimin has left at the back of the tapestry. Jimin is hoping with all his might he won’t have to start from the beginning. ‘Everything is connected, you cannot undo all of this to change a single mistake and then weave it all back again- the threads have set too, the indents are obvious.’

Jimin groans deeply. Clearly his father thinks its funny and he can’t help himself as he laughs.

‘Don’t laugh,’ Jimin sighs deeply, ‘I won’t be able to catch up to Tsirin now, and we won’t be able to make the entrance tapestry.’

His father’s laughter quiets to small chuckles before he leans in.

‘You want to know a secret?’

Jimin leans in as well.

‘You want to know how Tsirin keeps her threads so clean?’

Jimin nods eagerly.

‘She cuts them.’

Jimin frowns at that.

‘But her weave isn’t complete yet.’

Their father grins.

‘It’s not.’

‘Won’t that cause issues something happens?’

‘It will.’

‘So why does she do that?’

‘Because she hasn’t made any bad mistakes just yet,’ his father chuckles, ‘One day, she’ll learn.’

‘But…’ Jimin frowns, thinking of some of the more recent lessons he’d learned from the Wenedi the other day, ‘But what happens then?’

‘With her tapestry?’

Jimin nods.

‘There’s nothing else she can do but throw it away- it would be useless, all the threads would be too short to be reused.’

Jimin’s not sure why that makes him sad. All that hard work? He stares at his own miniature loom.

‘What should I do with this?’ Jimin kicks his legs a little, looking at this practice piece he was honestly quite proud of.

His father looks at the circular patterns with a slightly confused eye, leaning back as though to get a better angle.

‘You will have to start from the beginning again,’ he replies to him before asking, ‘What were you making?’

Jimin smiles, ‘The phases of the moon.’

Tsirin is threadless- unwoven and array.

‘You’re in my time.’ Jimin holds his sister’s arm firmly.

She is loud, boundaries within and without her expanding and imploding. This whole planet, this existence in this time was staged and threaded and woven for their arrival for this very moment. But the loom was creaking down, the weight of this tapestry expanding beyond the framework that guided and heralded all of its light and beauty.

But within that tapestry, within the chaos of the loom, the original thread- the anchor that held all of this together, a red thread tying all of the threads together-

‘You’re still bound to my fate.’

And then they fall through the great tapestry, the weight of their fragments shredding every connecting thread, tearing through the fabricated universe they had so desperately, in their own way, tried so hard to protect.

Everything is quiet for a while.

Jimin is alone once more. A silence that is temporary, a momentary lull-  a pause, waiting. A breath before leaning in closer.

And then everything snaps back together and Jimin soars through the air that tears itself apart to make way for the oath breakers, the deserters, the selfish.

Tsirin screams as mountains shatter at their eve – the light of Yino ebbing away as their promise now reached its final straining pitch now that it has been exposed.

Jimin and Tsirin trained with each other. They knew each others strengths and limitations. But this was beyond that- all of this, who they were, who they were choosing to become, was beyond what they knew of each other.

The devotion and sanctity of a promise also came burdened with the potential for cruelty and malice. This was something they learnt- a relatively short lesson in understanding. But they both studied the journals of those before them. And Jimin knew, each time he looked out into the darkness present between the shining lights of the astral belts, the lingering deep of waters that sank deep down, the lull of the humming that wove all around them from the light of Yino.

He knew now that within the light of Yino that eclipsed his sight, a darkness there existed that could birth calamities unknown and unexplainable.

And he knew that some saw it. Their wariness justified. At least that’s what he thought, without fully realizing the lies that were represented in his eyes.

Taeh’yung saw it- a fraction of what was within his own, reflected back at the Zhak’gri.

Sk’jin saw it too- felt it, more like- Jimin doesn’t think he’s actually fully earned the Khol’isa’s trust. Not that he deserved it.

And Yoongi saw it too. Jimin didn’t have to show him. The Human lived through the darkness that seeped out from within him, past the light of the promise that was meant to be pure and true and filled with safety and warmth. A horrible fearful lie masquerading as a gentle promise.

Because deep within the heart of the sun, a darkness lived and ignited in flames darker than the nothingness of space, gnawing away and eating away, covered in a cloak of light- a lie, a treachery, a disguise, a mask.

And he dives head first into this darkness, taking Tsirin with him.

Jimin knows what he has to do.

They darkness falls upon them, breaking their fall. Ebbing and shifting, the darkness resounds with the vibrations of their motion, their breaths, their sight.

‘So you heard them- you heard her,’ Tsirin observes, lurched where she stood. ‘You’ve seen them too now.’

Jimin nods.

‘You should have believed me.’

‘You did nothing to tell me.’

‘How could I prove any of it to you?’ Tsirin throws her hand to the side, a stump that resounded with the shape of a hand gone but felt. ‘But now that you do- why don’t you just come with me? Let’s just stop this- it’ll all be over. You must see what I mean now- we can stop all of this. You and I. Together.’

‘You know I won’t.’ Jimin shakes his head, ‘You know I would never.’

‘You could be with them- your new friends. Isn’t that what you want? Live in peace with them- with that one especially- what’s his name? Yoongi? You know that he’ll die if you do this, don’t you? So many will die.’

‘I know,’ Jimin whispers tremulously.

‘And what about Nineti? Dehin? Your guards? You loved them- you still love them,’ Tsirin points out, her voice resounding the shapes of their names, their forms, into the darkness, etching their presence into this unknown space, into this edge of nothingness. ‘Sometimes I thought you loved them more than you loved me.’

‘I know,’ Jimin says again.

‘Then why? Why do this- why make it difficult for yourself. You won’t stop me. You cannot stop me- you cannot stop this. Let me make us whole and complete again. We can undo all of this.’ Tsirin tells him sincerely, hand reaching out to him. ‘Let me make this better.’

Jimin takes a step back, shaking his head.

‘They’ll die,’ Tsirin says harshly.

‘They’re already dead,’ Jimin exhales out, finally admitting it out loud.

Tsirin doesn’t say anything.

‘I lost them, one by one, on this very planet.’ Jimin’s voice resounds in the darkness, taking away the shapes and forms Tsirin’s had created. ‘I lost them, a long time ago. Who they are now, are just echoes of a past, a memory.

They were not supposed to be here.’

The darkness trembles.

‘We are not supposed to be here.’

Tsirin lunges at him.

They hurl through the frigid air of the night-lands, over the now empty crater. Before they crash, darkness breaks their fall and waves appear over rock and stone.

‘Disobedient!’ Tsirin hisses at him, ‘You never listened to what I said! You never obeyed! Spoiled! So selfish and spoiled!’

Jimin knows what he has to do but-

‘You will do as I say!’

Jimin redirects Tsirin as she breaks the darkness once more. She was in his time.

They stumble onto the dirt path that lead up to their home. Pebbles scattering everywhere, dust flying.

‘Don’t you dare-!’ Tsirin breaks the memory once more.

They crash through mountains, lightning forming at the charge- thunder echoes in their screams.

But Jimin is ready- bracing himself they fall into a great hall. Jimin has walked the stairs that made their walls, the many layered stairs, each step nestling generations and generations of records and accounts and documentation.

They called it the Canyon.

Tsirin once got lost in here for nearly a day before Jimin found her, knowing this hall all the better than his sister.

He pushes himself into a crevice, narrow and jagged stairs leading to depths he explored- lines of light left behind by other Fates before him, visible only to him. Jimin knows the secrets of the Canyon better than most of the caretakers or archivists.

Briefly, Jimin wonders if it still exists.

Tsirin screams somewhere in the depths above him.

Quietly, he follows rings and movements of light, etched and engraved into old rock. There is a horrible sound to his far right. But Jimin continues to move, not staying still. He needed to stop Tsirin- or at the very least, buy the others enough time to leave.

Because for now-

Something loud tears through far behind him, going the opposite direction as Tsirin shatters through the Canyon.

-for now, he needed to try and find a way to get close to Tsirin at her weakest state.

The Canyon was lit up sparingly, as no one wandered here without a light. You would be stupid to do so. But Jimin has never needed one- when he first came here, it was as though he had the map of this archive imprinted into his very sight. The Wenedi and his teachers weren’t surprised. In fact, an archivist had seemed very relieved to see him, asking Jimin to locate something for her.

He would take Tsirin with him sometimes though she didn’t like going without a light. It made it difficult for Jimin to see then, but if it made his sister more comfortable, he didn’t mind. He just squinted a little more, pausing a little, tilting his head around a little.

He hadn’t realized that Tsirin had been envious of this. Tsirin too had wanted to see, to understand the seemingly directionless layout of the Canyon, a place that archivists still tied their sashes to an extendable meter, allowing them not to lose their way.

In her bid to see, Tsirin had found herself lost in the Canyon.

Jimin found her, shaking and crying, in the distant heights of the eastern branch of the Canyon.

‘You think bringing me here will shake me?’

Tsirin’s voice is right at his ear.

The Canyon explodes- each hidden nook and cranny overturning and unravelling itself as Tsirin crawls out like some great serpent.

Tsirin had nightmares long after she was found. Whimpering and shaking as she relived moments. Jimin had been curious- had been worried for his sister, wondering how he could help. He looked into her nightmares.

Every door she opened was empty – no one was home. They were gone.

She was alone.

They fall through the breaking Canyon and back into their childhood home. Jimin reaches out and with his palm over his sisters forehead, pushes her into the sunroom.

Jimin watches, strained as he contains his sister within this space.

She looks around, eyes wild and not understanding. She doesn’t seem to recognize the place at first.

Jimin opens a door slowly.

Tsirin darts through it immediately and finds it empty.

There’s another door, and Tsirin marches through what was their kitchen and into the backyard.

The garden is dead, there are no sounds in the air.

The door slams shut and Tsirin rushes back, into the kitchen, and pushes the door open to her bedroom.

It’s empty.

Breathing heavily she looks at her childhood bedroom. The pebbles for the archway unpolished and unfinished on her workbench.

She quickly steps out and into Jimin’s bedroom.

There are no furniture- no indication of his presence.

Stepping out Tsirin’s form shrinks slowly as she runs to their parents room.

Jimin grits his teeth, eyes welling as he uses Tsirin’s nightmare against her, watching her whole body fight- hands rigid and fingers crooked tight, the light flickering in her forehead beneath his hand.

Their parents room is empty- no bed, no desk, no chairs.

There’s nothing.

Panicked, she starts to cry out for their parents.

No amount of doors she opens leads to anywhere or anyone.

She starts to cry in earnest.

Tsirin’s fingers start to loosen, her arms slacking just a little, the wretched stretch of her body slowly shrinking and-

She huddles herself into a corner, head in her arms, crying her heart out.

‘Don’t leave me,’ she wails brokenly. ‘Don’t leave me-‘

‘-you left me.’

Jimin jumps as Tsirin’s eyes open, staring right at him.

‘Everyone left me.’

Arm shooting out smoothly, Tsirin grabs him, hand around his throat, a blackness, something overwhelmingly unnatural, something ominously familiar in its stench and pull- tugging him into the timelessness that was the void. Her wail stretches into a fathomless scream all around them.

‘Returning the favour I see,’ Tsirin smiles. ‘Surprisingly cruel of you- but it’s not quite right, you’re not doing it right.’

‘I know,’ Jimin manages to get out, hand reaching out to cup his sister’s face, ‘I’m not as merciful as you.’

They fall through the sky- Tsirin’s madness around her, elongating her form. The sky above Megibīya is a riot, the song that rings through the air is of fear, pain, and birth.

‘But I think I can learn to give it to you.’

Jimin loves this memory.

The whole family was going for a picnic. Nowhere exciting or far. It was just the garden terraces in the neighbouring district. It was locally famous, and tourists who came for quaint quiet places enjoyed these terraces too.

Jimin helps by carrying picnic blanket. It’s a rough fabric, and it’s a little itchy against the side of his knee where it brushes as he walks, the folded blanket tucked under his whole arm, the other arm sticking out to balance himself.

Tsirin is carrying two pillows because she’s bigger and stronger.

They set up at a good location, looking over the rolling hills and as the weather was clear, the mountains in the distance. It’s beautiful.

The air shivers and Jimin sits them down, watching as they all just laze around in the warm sun, stomachs full and appropriately tired from playing games and chasing each other around. Their father is reading out loud a story in a low carrying voice. Jimin is at the cusp of falling asleep, his mother’s hand carding through his hair.

Tsirin is next to him, arm slung over their mother’s middle, head resting on her chest, hand loosely holding onto Jimin’s. Her eyes are barely open, but she’s listening to the story, Jimin can tell.

It’s so perfect.

Jimin smiles at his sister.

‘What is this?’ she asks.

‘This is the last holiday we had together as a family,’ Jimin replies, lacing their fingers together. ‘We didn’t know at the time, but apa brought anu here for her health- hoping it would help her. But anu knew it wouldn’t-‘

‘-why do you keep lying to yourself? To me?’ Tsirin whispers, tears pooling in her eyes before it spills over to dampen the fabric of their mother’s shirt.

‘Oh, baby, are you okay?’ their mother dabs Tsirin’s cheek, ‘Go to sleep baby, it’ll all be better okay?’

‘What-?’ Tsirin blinks up at their mother, eyes confused.

‘Just go to sleep,’ she smiles and with a little chuckle adds, ‘Such a big girl, but you still need your naps right?’

Their mother slowly lowers Tsirin down onto the picnic blanket, brushing her hair back and away from her eyes.

‘Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up, feeling so much better, okay?’

‘We can continue the story after you wake up,’ their father promises, closing the book and using a leaf Tsirin had found as a bookmark. ‘Don’t you want to know the ending?’

‘Yeah,’ she nods, leaning back, pillowing their mother’s arm, body trembling. ‘Yeah, I do.’

‘Then go to sleep,’ their mother leans over and kisses her creased and gaunt forehead. ‘Go to sleep-‘

‘NO!’

Tsirin screams, shattering the hills nearby as they skid across the icy desert surrounding the crater.

‘No-!’ she screams again- static lights erupting all around and high above.

They both lunge at the same time- hands clasping in a deadly grip.

‘-how-how DARE YOU BRING ME HERE!’ Tsirin screams, crawling over their mother to lunge at Jimin, bodies alternating between that of her child-state and current state. It’s horrific as Jimin struggles backwards, away from hands that go from soft and chubby to gaunt and brittle.

Their parents are telling them not to fight – not to scream, but with a wave of her hand, Tsirin easily breaks through this memory and floods it with her madness before falling over Jimin in a heap.

‘I have torn myself apart- I have been broken so many times- so many times- what would you know of it?’ she laughs.

Jimin struggles but she slams him down.

‘You can’t!’ she hisses, ‘You don’t know what it’s like- you can’t, because the heart you have in you can’t.’

With a shuddering gasp, Jimin surges up once more as Tsirin continues to laugh. Night erupts around them once more as they fall, landing in a heap in their childhood home once more.

Exhausted, Jimin can barely look around at this final attempt. If there was any hope to be had- it was obvious from Tsirin’s mannerism that she was affected. She heaves, exhausted as she raises herself with trembling arms.

Struggling, Jimin turns himself over to his side.

For all her broken and scattered threads, the madness in the fabric of her being, Tsirin was overwhelming and Jimin has never really been able to stand level with his sister. Has never been able to quite match up to her.

‘We never completed it. Do you remember?’

Tsirin doesn’t seem to even recognize him at this point. Doesn’t recognize where they are.

‘The tapestry. We never completed it.’ Jimin feels the pull of timelessness wrapping around him. ‘You were angry- the pattern was wrong, the weave came out bent, and we had to do it again, but you kept cutting your threads. Anu was too sick to sit up and work on it and help us- apa was struggling to maintain the house and the farm. We were too busy with our lessons and meetings.

We never completed it.’

Tsirin blinks a few times, a frown tearing through her forehead, a horrible crease forming.

The memory, final, and fading, begins to slowly disappear.

‘I found it, incomplete, stored away in one of the chests in the sun room. When I pulled it out from the box, it fell apart. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you about- it tore straight through your weave. I tried to put it back together. I thought if I could put it back together, then maybe I could- I could show you, and even if it was just two of us. We were still a whole family-‘

‘No,’ Tsirin speaks and it resounds everywhere horribly, tearing through everything, straight back into Jimin, swallowing him whole into the void. ‘I was abandoned.’

Jimin slips away, broken and his threads frayed as timelessness takes him away.

He sinks lower and lower.

Jimin doesn’t know where the bottom is, but here no light penetrates, no sound, no song- here there is nothing. Here, he isn’t.

‘You want to know a secret?’

He can’t remember his father’s face anymore- it’s blurred, the weight of darkness pulling at the details and taking it away to be forgotten and lost in this nothingness.

He’s trapped again- stuck in a state where he edges the state of awareness and falling.

‘Sunshine.’

He feels it rather than hearing it.

Something tugs at him. For a moment, Jimin isn’t even aware of himself, let alone be aware of a physicality around him that was himself. With a gasp that molds him in the darkness, the darkness pulls and pulls and Jimin finds that he has hands.

Fear erupts through him as he feels the darkness- a darkness within himself.

‘Jimin?’

Light erupts with the sound of his name.

It wraps itself around him, giving him shape- connecting him back to the universe, back to what it meant to be. Jimin finds himself surrounded, encased.

‘Jimin.’

Something extends towards him. He knows this shape. This form.

He has held it in his hands, fingers studying each detail. He has kissed it, lips pressing on the scarred and roughened expanse. He has fallen asleep with it, pillowed under his cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin under his eyes.

‘I know you can hear me.’

They were all connected to him- tied to him in ways he cannot explain or understand. So even here, in a darkness unknown, Jimin finds that he is tied, he is threaded to a tapestry he cannot see- intertwined so thoroughly.

And it all began-

Namjoon laughs quietly, fondly, leaning back on his seat as he observes their antics from the Navigation Table. He rests his chin on his hand, leaning in, eyes twinkling as he watches Jungkook bodily lift a shrieking Sk’jin over his shoulder. Hoseok is laughing, giving the youngling instructions as Sk’jin kicks his feet desperately. Jimin is clutching onto Taeh’yung, both of them laughing hysterically. Yoongi was reassembling the parts of a Heliord but was unable to do so, hands shaking too much from suppressed laughter.

He’s sitting in the dark, but the light from the surveillance projection lights up his sight.

Hoseok breaches the strange barrier and falls in a heap on the floor with Namjoon. He’s still in shock- still confused, still-…he was still wanted. He was needed. He was missed. They came back all the way for him, to get him back, to risk everything just to bring him back. Namjoon’s eyes are filled with a sort of quiet plea – but it’s not just a plea for forgiveness. It’s an extension – a request, a wish; it warms him to the core.

In the quiet space stuck between two great forces in a literal warzone, Hoseok finds the warmth of light that only comes from hearth of a home.

Sk’jin gently brushes away Jungkook’s hair from his forehead. His fingers lightly smooth the small furrow formed between the youngling’s brows as he concentrated on the games Namjoon had set up for him. He was a fast learner, picking up on Standard forms and systems quickly in the game he was playing. He’s laid back, head resting on Sk’jin’s lap. In the kitchens, Hoseok and Yoongi are putting some sort of meal together. Namjoon is patiently listening to Taeh’yung’s proposal on what they should do with the Grisial crystals that he was saying they needed. Jimin is to his left, dozing off at random. He taps Jungkook’s shoulder and the youngling sits up, not paying much attention as Sk’jin gets up and retrieves a blanket to cover Jimin with. When he sits back down he spots Yoongi giving him a small smile to which the Khol’isa responds by sticking out his tongue.

Jungkook groans in frustration as the sun sets behind him. The GI give him toneless encouragement, all taken from excerpts of book on socializing. He crosses his arms, looking down at his sand-structure, thinking hard, before squatting down and slapping on some more wet sand at the base. Huffing with disappointment, Jungkook looks up from his attempts at recreating a sand version of his home as he remembered it. But it’s not shaping the way he wishes it would. Quietly, Yoongi sits next to him, handing him twigs and thin branches. Wordlessly, he helps Jungkook create tunnels and caves in the sand dune.

And then- and then Jimin opens his eyes.

He’s surrounded in something that isn’t quite liquid, isn’t quite air. He’s suspended, hands a blur before his eyes.

Beyond this veil he hears voices, dreams, thoughts, promises.  

‘I know you can hear me.’

Reaching out to him- he knows this shape, he knows this, he knows this-

‘Jimin.’

Jimin does his best to raise his own hand, formless yet corporeal in this edge of awareness and falling.

‘I got you.’

Everything is clear in an instance.

‘Yoongi-!' Jimin manages to gasp out, desperately pulling himself closer, out of the timelessness, and into this peaceful respite.

Yoongi leans in, their foreheads touch and the oceans crash around them in a might rush, birthing him once more out into this plane before calming back over as it once was- as it should be.

Standing by the frameless window is Yoongi, hands holding his as he brings him back out of the void. He’s smiling- he’s smiling like he’s so so proud.

‘I got you.’

‘Don’t go,’ Jimin begs.

Yoongi nods in reply.

Of course.

‘I love you.’

He would always come back.

Jimin slams down hard onto gritty soil- he’s back at the edge of the void, the temperance of time and alignment seeping all colour and light into a nothingness that went beyond darkness.

Tsirin stands there, watching, unaware- or maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t quite mad- maybe this was the cost of just knowing. Maybe she just didn’t care anymore.

‘Memories are incredibly real, Jimin. But you cannot linger in them.’

Jimin knows that too.

But as he walks up to Tsirin, his footsteps barely an echo in this temperance, he knows that he has a way back. That he would always have a way back. Even if it hurts him, even if he wishes it wasn’t so, he was connected to all of them, the way they were all connected to him.

He doesn’t even have to touch her as they slip away.

Tsirin was always determined to help Jimin. To show him everything she learnt first, from their academic texts to the way to open the dorm gates without creating any sounds, sneaking out to explore the night, hands held tight in each others.

She was there helping him remember the formal speeches they would need to give at gatherings. She was there to quietly mime the correct gestures of greetings under the folds of her robes when she knew he forgot. She was there to push him out of the way when an avalanche crashed over them, taking the brunt of the snow shelf. She was there when he first thought he fell in love. She was there when he nursed his first broken heart. She was-

‘-what is this?’

Several weeks before they would receive the fateful communications from Ndica that would begin their long drawn out ending, Jimin had requested for official leave for a few days.

It had been the anniversary of his parents deaths and even though he hadn’t visited their family home in many cycles, Jimin felt the need to return.

The house is a little run-down. Normally, if vacated for good, houses in good condition like this would be circulated and used by other families. In a way, they were lucky. Their town was small, with a population level that stayed quite level for most parts. But it was also out of respect, and out of self-imposed duty that the towns folk decided not to resign the home for other use.

At first Jimin had been touched by the gesture. Then he felt guilt that a perfectly habitable house was being wasted away. And then later, a sort of nonchalance he found almost frightening.

The last time he had been here was to oversee the new irrigation lines the town was implementing. He almost sent Dehin in his stead, but ultimately decided to go himself.

He wasn’t sure if he should be shocked at himself for not having a strong emotional response to the sight of his childhood home.

He struggled for a long time with his grief, or seemingly lack thereof. He was told it was because he was young- that he didn’t quite understand what loss meant. But he’s met plenty who were his age or younger, who too lost those around them, and their grief seemed profound, heavy, weighing them like a cloak.

The way Tsirin wore hers.

Of course he missed them.

But Jimin doesn’t know quite well if he was at all genuine about any of it.

His guards suffered losses. And he was with them the whole time. He was thanked for helping them through their grief. Wenedi so much older than him spoke words of gratitude towards him for being so warm, kind, and yet steady in his council. But Jimin has no idea what he’s saying-

But that’s a lie.

In a sense, with each encounter with grief, Jimin tries to excuse his own lack of it. Tries to explain his own through theirs. And somehow, for so many who come to him, it appears to work.

But how come it doesn’t explain what it was he felt?

He stands at the walkway, cleaned and brushed by their neighbours no doubt. The garden isn’t exactly wild but there are clear signs of maintenance. The several trees planted at the front were also taken care of. Branches recently trimmed before it can nudge up against the roof tiles. The windows are shut but the glass is clean. The automated cleaner is still functional, the charger panels slotted on the roof clean and gleaming.

Jimin feels a pang of remorse for not coming and doing the cleaning himself.

He stops by the doorstep for a while, studying the grain of the wood absently. He wishes he could cry before the doorway. Weep for the loss he had to hold within himself at such a young age. But there’s nothing.

He feels empty.

Stepping through the doorway, he breathes in the still cool air of the sunroom.

The family tapestry hangs there. It’s been cleaned recently.

He stops by it, fingers running over the neat and precise weave of soft pinks and yellows. This tapestry depicted a flower garden alongside a running brook. It’s beautiful, and Jimin remembers wishing he could recreate some of the flowers woven into the tapestry.

With a quiet sigh, he steps back and makes his way to his parents room.

The bedding was stored away and the bed is empty. All personal artifacts were stored away too.

This was just a bare room.

He steps into his own room.

It feels foreign to him. Strange- like the memories he has of this place aren’t quite his. Or at least, they belonged to a version of himself not connected to himself anymore.

He goes back out into the hallway, hesitating before Tsirin’s door.

Slowly, he opens her door.

It’s horrifying, not recognizing this space. He steps inside, cold creeping up his skin.

Without realizing it, tears well up in his eyes.

He takes a tremulous breath and a horrible thought overwhelms him. His heart sinking and his stomach heavy, Jimin shakes from the very suggestion of it. His hands shake at the very idea of it.

She’s still here. She’s not gone.

He repeats it over and over.

But it’s not enough.

The loss is so profound, or at least the idea of it. His knees buckle and he knocks into the Tsirin’s work table to the side.

They had buried their parents. Portraits etched in meteorite columns laid above the ground. Unbidden the etched carving of Tsirin’s face flashes in the foreground of his thoughts and a shaky cry pushes out past his lips, breaking the oppressive silence he hadn’t realized was building all around him.

He falls to his knees-

It couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t. It shouldn’t.

He rushes out of the room, his mind, soul, body, heart, breaking and overwhelmed.

And as though summoned by his thoughts, by his heart, Tsirin stands at the doorway, genuine surprise in her features as she registers that Jimin is there.

‘Oh-‘ is all she manages to say when Jimin rushes up to her, hugging her tight. ‘-okay?’

She hugs him back, surprised but not questioning this sudden display of affection.

‘I don’t want to lose you,’ he whispers.

A deep fearful confession.

‘Please, I don’t want to lose you.’

They could stop it. This misunderstanding, this argument. This was nothing in light of who they were together. Who they were to each other. They could figure it out. They had to. There was nothing they couldn’t overcome together.

Tsirin was everything Jimin had left. He couldn’t lose her. Not to this. Not to anything.

He begged her.

She whispered soft reassurances, voice soft and confused but warm and wrapping around him, blanketing him in familiarity and comfort. And he clings.

He clings and clings. He understands that what he clung to was a desperate memory, a desperate recollection of a house now empty of those who originally inhabited it.

‘Memories are incredibly real, Jimin. But you cannot linger in them.’

But he wants to.

She holds him tighter, their house fading away.

He basks in her warmth, renewed at his compliance.

‘I don’t want to lose you,’ he whispers.

The dark overwhelms him again but it’s falling apart.

The singing is at a pitch- reaching volumes unimaginable, shaking stars, the darkness between each point of light overwhelming. But it was breaking, just as Jimin lets go.

‘But I lost you, such a long time ago.’

All of the threads come loose and fray, ripping apart slowly, painfully.

A force, not her arms, holds him down and Tsirin’s hands reach up to wrap around his throat.

‘You were everything to me,’ Jimin whispers. ‘You were everything-‘

‘No,’ Tsirin whispers, ‘No more.’

Her fingers flex to tighten around his throat when, without explanation or build-up, Jimin finds himself some distance from his sister, standing where the void had been.

Jimin doesn’t understand what has happened but no voices are screaming at him, at them. There is no violent sway of time and darkness and matter swirling around them in a maddened dance tearing them apart and whole.

Strangely, Jimin feels incredibly small- insignificant in the vastness of this flattened crater in this present time. And Tsirin- she’s suddenly exactly how Jimin remembers her; how Jimin should have seen her, how Jimin knows her.

Lost, afraid, confused- mourning.

‘What did you do?’

Her voice is barely a whisper- fear in her dark-grey eyes, the same colour as their father’s.

For a moment, they are children once more- lost in their grief and the burden of a promise not theirs to keep.

‘This- this isn’t me-‘ Jimin gasps out, his throat still tingling from the phantom pressure he was expecting.

And then, so casually, so easily, a soft colour of light blossoms from deep within the earth- a colour Jimin has never seen, has never dreamt of- a colour impossible in its chaos.

It stands before them, right in between them- a form impossible to describe but everything in Jimin is screaming at the sight of it.

And he’s kneeling again on the ground- his body shaking from everything he’s lost- Tsirin standing over him, her crazed gaze transfixed on the Being who easily erases the anger of madness spilling uncontrollably out of her.

Jimin falls backwards, feeling almost as though the colours of this chaos will swallow him whole- but the hard gritty ground cushions his fall instead- shocking him out of his paralyzed stunned state.

Everything is screaming- everything is shaking- Tsirin is hurling herself at this Being- and this form beyond the genesis of Time.

‘It hurts.’

Their voice is familiar- Jimin has heard their voice before- if this was a voice at all.

‘It hurts,’ they repeat gently, ‘To exist when you’re not supposed to, when fate pulls you apart but your heart wants to stay.’

Tsirin screams, lunging forward in a horrible swaying motion and then she’s gone- she’s erased, before her voice can even fade out.

The last thread, the singular colour that wove in with this tapestry is gone.

There are gaping holes and spaces.

Jimin kneels before the chest, helpless as to what to do.

His mother’s pieces are still intact, forming wonderful shapes representing fruits and stones and shells.

His father’s pieces are neat and the most orderly, forming flowers and leaves and branches.

His own are still there too, a little warped, mistakes clearly visible through the phases of the moon.

But Tsirin’s.

He can’t even remember what she had made to start with.

It falls apart completely as Jimin unfolds the tapestry.

Tears pouring down his face, Jimin tries his best to save Tsirin’s pieces, to try and decipher what she made. Maybe if he tried to weave her pieces together with his? Could he save it?

But there’s nothing he can do.

In the quiet empty heaviness of their home, Jimin puts away the broken tapestry.

Fear overwhelms Jimin as a horrible sonorous silence presses down upon him- the night is gone, the darkness is gone- when he looks upon this Being who- no, it wasn’t him, or at least, it’s someone who was supposed to him- or maybe this form, this shape before him, was everything he was always meant to be, Jimin is unable to do anything but tremble.

His whole body cowers subconsciously, as though whatever base instinct screaming within him was taking control, stretching him out onto the floor to cower and prostrate himself before the living embodiment of Chaos.

But Chaos kneels before him, expression free and new, as though he was experiencing the depth and joy of everything around him and he embraces him. Chaos does not seem to mind that he was shaken and paralyzed from fear now laced with fatigue exponentially increasing.

‘It’s okay,’ he tells him. ‘Jiminie, it’s okay. It’s done. It’s broken.’

He feels a hand turning his head up, fingers lightly touching his chin.

‘It’s broken.’

The silence breaks and Jimin clutches onto Taeh’yung out of fear that he will float away.

It was Taeh’yung- Taeh’yung as he should have always been- complete, whole, a singularity.

He is Chaos, but there is a peaceful silence born within the energy of the genesis of the universe swirling within him.

‘It’s okay,’ Taeh’yung repeats again, smiling true and bright.

‘It’s- it’s okay-‘ Jimin repeats croakily, voice barely pushing past his throat.

Taeh’yung hums, looking him deep in his eyes.

‘Your eyes are pretty,’ he tells him with a small wink.

Jimin doesn’t know what he means- and there’s something so unnervingly familiar in this displaced comment, that for a moment, his fear is replaced with a small wave of relief.

Taeh’yung helps him stand, and to Jimin’s surprise, he finds that he actually can.

He blinks a few times, eyes adjusting to what he’s not sure, but everything seems different- as though some filter over his eyes was removed and he was seeing everything anew.

The emptiness of this world, of Megibīya, is even more pronounced. But the weightlessness of the sky, wide and expansive, is how it should be- how it should have always been. The earth is no longer wearied, no longer strained and withdrawn- the mountains are no longer stricken, raising their heads high up.

The light of Yino.

‘She’s…they’re gone.’

Taeh’yung nods.

‘It is broken.’

‘What- what will happen? To Menigišiti?’  

‘I think-…’ Taeh’yung shrugs, making a funny expression, ‘I don’t know much about fear of dying, but I think Yino made the choices most of us would at that time, I mean, it’s not different from everything I’ve witnessed most Beings do.’

‘You think their promises were doomed to fail?’

‘Their?’ Taeh’yung quirks an eyebrow, looking mildly interested before going ‘oh’ softly. Then he chuckles as though it wasn’t important.

And maybe it wasn’t important. Not now.

‘I think none of that matters anymore.’

Jimin takes a small step forward. Again, he’s surprised at how solid it is- how permanent everything felt around him. He takes a deep breath and everything creeps up to him- a gentle wave washing over him before the whole ocean crashes down on him, leaving him shaken and overwhelmed once more.

‘I need- I need to-‘ he gasps out.

‘Shh,’ Taeh’yung helps him take another step forward. ‘You’re okay.’

‘Where- where are they?’ he pleads, hands shaking. ‘Where are they?’

Taeh’yung turns to look above, smiling at the light that streaks across the pale sunrise-sky. Jimin has never seen it before- it gleams softly.

‘Namjoon is with Ilya- he’s being treated, it’s nothing bad,’ Taeh’yung reassures him. ‘Hobi is taking Jungkook back out with Lim for treatment. Again, nothing bad.’

‘Sk’jin?’

Taeh’yung smiles.

‘He’s dreaming.’

But that wasn’t safe for Sk’jin wasn’t it? Jimin could have sworn he heard the Khol’isa faintly curse him out not so long ago, his tone more endeared than anything else.

‘Actually, I’m not sure where Yoongi is,’ Taeh’yung frowns, looking around before looking back at him. ‘I just- I just come back to you for him.’

That’s because he has something precious and fragile within him; borrowed.

Taeh’yung smiles again, taking a deep breath before stepping away, letting go of their hands. For a moment, Jimin is afraid he will fall apart- but he remains.

He remains.

Taeh’yung claps his hands together, rubbing them at the end.

‘I think it’s time to wake my babies up.’ Pure joy radiates from him- something distinctly his own, a sense of wonder and awe- it’s so raw, and powerful. ‘There’s nothing more beautiful right? Coming to your own.’

He turns, the faint light of Yino just enough to highlight the now ever-changing patterns and movements blossoming across Taeh’yung’s skin, spilling out onto the gritty sand around his feet as he walks away.

Yino’s voice is silent- their song ended, their people, their children, scattered and broken.

And she was just-…she was just gone.

But she was never really here. The Tsirin Jimin knew and loved and adored died a long long time ago. The Jimin Tsirin knew also died a long long time ago.

They were both of them, unknown to each other, clinging to a memory they desperately wished was real.

‘We shouldn’t linger in our memories too much. You’re carrying the weight of the dead, don’t let it crush you.’

It’s searing- the broken promise is searing and Jimin knows he will carry this forever.

And now, far below him- all around him, he hears a new song.

Jimin stares at the distant and weak sun once more. Carefully, lifting his hands up over to his chest, Jimin closes his eyes and breathes out slowly.

Jimin knows where to find him.

It’s as easy as falling asleep.

He rises from the bed- his bed…their bed. The night has fallen, no sight of the moon; only the morning sun shines in brightly.

And standing at the main doorway, looking at him as though he’d been waiting for him, expecting him, is-

‘-Yoongi.’

Jimin can’t get out of bed fast enough. His limbs are heavy though- weary and tired. The sun shines on him but he doesn’t feel the warmth of its light. There is no comfort in this morning and Jimin scrambles to return to the safety of the night, to the quiet lingering devotion of the moon.

But the moon has waxed and waned- the moon waited and waited, crossing time and space: after all, an eclipse doesn’t last forever.

Desperation courses through him as he bolts out of the room, breathlessly crying out, arms stretching out for the moon lingering at the doorway.

He’s real. He’s still real. He was still here.

Yoongi was still real, still waiting for him, still-

‘-sunshine.’

Jimin shakes: he knows he doesn’t have enough time- he never did, they never did. He needed everything from this moment- he needs every second, every breath. It’s futile, he knows that, holding on to the fading light of the moon. He knows it’s inevitable. But he can’t- he just can’t.

He needs to look at him- he needs to-

Yoongi is leaning his forehead against his, eyes closed, expression serene.

‘Yoongi- look at me? Please? Please look at me,’ Jimin begs, whispering.

‘-safe,’ Yoongi sighs out. ‘You’re safe.’

Jimin can’t do this anymore. His sob escapes him unbidden and wretched- shaking him to his core.

And Yoongi opens his eyes.

Everything is anew- colours and shapes and light. But everything is settled and calm in the overwhelming love that is never-changing and ever-growing in everything within his heart.

Everything within his heart, nestled away deep deep within his chest, hidden, cherished, safe.

‘You’re safe,’ Yoongi tells him again, as if that was important to Jimin. He just wanted to stay here. He just-

‘-we should have never left,’ he whispers shakily.

‘We didn’t,’ Yoongi smiles, ‘All of this- it’s all of us. It always will be.’

‘I don’t-,’ Jimin grits his teeth so hard his head shakes. ‘Yoongi don’t-‘

But he can’t ask him that.

‘It hurts. To exist when you’re not supposed to, when fate pulls you apart but your heart wants to stay.’

‘You did it,’ Yoongi sounds so so proud. ‘You did it, my sunshine.’

Jimin just nods, drinking in everything about him, about them, this moment between nowhere and everywhere.

‘There’s a lot more to do,’ Yoongi hums. ‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to be with you.’

Jimin shakes his head.

‘You- you’ve done so- so much,’ he sobs. ‘You’ve given me- you’ve given me everything-!’

Yoongi’s lips are soft and everything Jimin will ever need and more, everything Jimin will miss for the rest of his life.

‘I know you,’ Yoongi smiles against his lips, ‘You’ll do so well. I know it.’

Jimin has nothing to say and everything to say- and right now he has time for neither of them.

‘You-,’ he barely gets out, ‘Yoongi-.’

Yoongi holds him so close- arms around him as though cocooning him close: Jimin wishes he could remain like this.

In this moment- this tiny precious moment caught in between their breaths, between the beating of their heart, Jimin reaches forward into the light of nothingness and feels peace and rest.

‘You’re everything I’ve wanted to feel.’

Everything he’s only wanted for Yoongi- everything Yoongi needed.

It’s perfect, Jimin decides, his fingers lightly touching the blissful serenity beyond the door. It’s perfect, and everything Yoongi deserved.

‘I love you,’ he whispers softly, like they had all the time in the universe. Like how he would softly whisper it to Yoongi when they were in bed. Or early in the morning back in Odgõti-32, when Yoongi would always get up to watch the sunrise with Jimin no matter what. Or when they would sit side by side, watching the others speed along the shore, shrieks of laughter surrounding them. Or when the sun was setting and the first stars of the night would appear and Yoongi would draw shapes for him, his head resting on his chest. Or when Yoongi kissed the words into his skin, tattooing them across his neck, down his chest, into his palms.

In his heart- in his heart, Jimin never left this house. This home. He had stayed- they stayed, for days and mornings and nights and evenings.

But now.

The moon, his moon, he finds, has light in his eyes.

And now that he’s here, now that they’re here, now that the day has returned-

Jimin finally allows himself to wake up.

The sun, pale and dying, faintly lights through the nothingness of the doorway, lighting out their home, making way for mountain rock and the cold still air of Megibīya.

They’re not standing in each others arms. Jimin is on the ground, cradling the Human to his chest. Yoongi’s breath is coming out in half pants, heavy and labored but fainter with each passing second. His skin is cold, ashy. No sound stirs within him. No pain, no fatigue- there is nothing within him anymore. But Jimin doesn’t see that.

Carefully, gently, he holds his heart in his hands.

‘I love you so much,’ he whispers again.

He thinks he hears Yoongi singing somewhere far away in the serenity of nothing.

‘I wish…’ he pauses, taking a careful breath, ‘I wish you-...but you can rest now, go rest it’s okay, and I’ll come to you,’ Jimin cards Yoongi’s hair gently. ‘I’ll come to you, all right?’

Yoongi opens his eyes briefly, lashes fluttering.

A memory, distant and vague- rather than remembering it, Jimin feels it. With all of his soul.

A wide horizon filled with the light of the sunrise, another Being beside him, and then just over by the jutting rocks, reaching forward, hand spread out, a warmth of-

‘-sunshine.’

‘Yeah?’

It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

‘-I’ll be waiting.’

Their home is filled with the light of the morning sun.

Illuminating their memories carved into the walls, onto the floors- the windows frame their laughter, the doors lead to hushed quiet conversations of everything and nothing. The desk carries the weight of their touch- always warm and gentle. The stairs guide them to a calm and endless ocean. The bed is layered in dreams shared and lived, of lifetimes shared through Time and Space, beyond and before.

The door closes shut as the sun rises completely.

*

Author’s Notes

Hi first of all I have 2 apologies:

1. For not having this chapter out sooner. I have reasons T_T
2. I’M SORRY FOR THIS CHAPTER DON’T SEND ASSASSINS AT ME

So yeah, to explain the first apology- basically our landlord gave us 3 weeks notice to pack up and leave and we were???????? Bro you should be giving us 2 months at least like wtf. So that was VERY stressful. I had work AND the task to look for a house to move to that would allow dogs under a budget and that was difficult. That and a ton of toxic family members decided they wanted to be loud and make their opinions on every single thing absolutely unrelated to them but SUCH A PAIN IN THE . Fellows, I nearly committed murder you would not have gotten this update if it weren’t for my older sister and her fiancé who literally saved lives by telling me to take it easy once every 3 hours because I would be in jail for manslaughter no lie

So yeah, we moved, ON CHRISTMAS DAY LMAO. And then a lot of adjustment and organizing and cleaning my god I have never known such fatigue

So yeah, that’s what’s was up basically. Mentally I just couldn’t do anything.

But here we are!

All though gotta admit the ending of this chapter was written out on my notes app on my phone since 2018 so yeah, I’ve been sitting on this chapter for a long time I guess.

AND I AM SORRY OMG I CRIED SO MUCH WRITING THIS CHAPTER IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER

We both suffered

So yeah, now 2 more chapters before we finally finish this fic. Damn, it’s been like 5 years wow