31: OUTSIDE THE DOOR

"The Root," by Bevy Maco

                That night, Hoseok found himself staring at something he was very familiar with—the ceiling above his bed. The shadowy glimmers on the old textured plaster barely gave his imagination enough to find any substantial images, but Hoseok had plenty of time to get creative. He smiled bitterly into the darkness.

                Cured? How funny.

                He turned over to his side. Complaining wasn’t really something he had the right to do. This should be expected. The insomnia was just a result of bad decisions and antidepressants.

                But why do they have to suffer too?

                Hoseok’s hand reached out, fumbling for his phone somewhere on the table close to his bed. The numbers glowed out the time on his phone: 2:33. He scrolled through his call log. The newest one was the call from Namjoon. Jungkook had been hurt. Couldn’t it have been stopped? Yoongi and Namjoon weren’t at Jae-dong High School anymore, but Hoseok was still there. In fact, he was the only hyung still at Jae-dong.

                Half of the log below that was filled with calls Jimin had ignored. Maybe he shouldn’t feel responsible for Jimin, but he did anyway. They were too similar. Hoseok didn’t want Jimin to make all the mistakes he had made. But for all he knew, Jimin could be dead right now.

                About another half our of waking silence passed before Hoseok pulled himself out of bed. He pulled on a sweater, slid into some slippers, and walked out of his room. His parents were asleep. He knew they wouldn’t wake up. They had been working all day yesterday.

                He went outside, almost without thinking, and walked to the bus stop. When a bus, nearly empty, arrived at his stop, he almost let it pass. But something pulled him up from his feet. He shuffled on and headed toward a seat in the back without so much as a glance at the driver or the sparse passengers.

                Before he knew it, Hoseok realized he was standing outside of Jimin’s apartment. Hoseok sighed. He shouldn’t have come here. If Jimin didn’t want to talk to him over the phone, how would this be any better?

                Hoseok knocked.

                “Park Jimin. Jimin-ah, it’s me. It’s Hoseok-hyung.”

                No reply.

                “I know it’s late. It’s just that I’m really worried. And, well…I can’t sleep.” He turned away from the door and leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. His head fell back against the door with a light thud. “Namjoon-hyung called today. He said those iljin punks made Jungkookie break into some store. He got stabbed. I knew he was getting too mixed up with those punks. Why—why didn’t I do anything?” Hoseok’s head fell into his hands. His voice came out muffled. “Taehyung’s barely making it. Namjoon doesn’t know what to do with all of our mess. Aish…if…if you get hurt too…”

                He couldn’t take this anymore. Of course Jimin wouldn’t come to the door. It would be a miracle if he was even awake at this hour.

-------------------

                Jimin’s forehead rested against his apartment door. The small beam of gray light streaming through the cracks barely spread through that dark space. Hoseok’s broken voice sounded so far away.

                “He got stabbed.”

                The words made Jimin feel like he had been stabbed, right in the heart.

                “Why didn’t I do anything?”

                Jimin shook his head. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not like this. Not because of him. He couldn’t stand it. He remembered how many times he had tried to defend himself, as if everything that had happened wasn’t precisely because of him.

                A few moments later, Hoseok was gone. Jimin pounded his head against the door. No. No.

                If Jimin hadn’t been able to sleep before, he definitely couldn’t now. Sleep was about as far away as he felt from his friends. He spent a while pacing the room, then tossing around on his bed. He sat up and rocked back and forth. He took out a box of old junk and went through them.

                At the very bottom was a photo. He remembered the day. It actually wasn’t that long ago, but it couldn’t have felt farther away—they were all together, on the beach, in Seokjin’s old truck. Yoongi and Namjoon were relaxed. Jungkook was with them. It was peaceful. It was also about as far from their present reality as possible But he didn’t have many options anymore. He couldn’t stay by them anymore, it wasn’t fair to them. Jimin stuffed the photo in his pocket and went back to pacing.

                Finally, Jimin gave up on pacing and headed for the bathroom. He the water and felt it run over his fingers. It was warm, comforting. The water kept on running, and Jimin stepped inside. Remembering the photo in his pocket, he took it out. His friends’ backs stared at him. He wanted them to tell him something. He received nothing but silence.

                The water was getting higher, but Jimin had stopped thinking about it. There were so many things he had thought, so many things he had hoped for…none of that mattered anymore.

                He got up, dripping wet, and went to the sink. Behind the mirror there was an old lighter. Back in the bathtub, Jimin pondered the photo and the lighter side by side. He wanted to hold onto that photo. He really did. But it had to go. As the image burned with the fire from that little lighter, Jimin held it away from him and watched the ashes drift away.

Author’s Note

I don’t even know what to say in these author notes anymore. I feel like author notes should be happy or something, but honestly I just succeeded in depressing myself, so I’m not gonna lie.

But, well, it is accurate to say I feel relieved to write again. I really missed that. And I am DETERMINED to write the other 2 chapters sometime this weekend! Don’t let me get away with slacking, okay?!?!?