[Jimin's POV]

If you never felt like a walking time bomb than you probably won’t be able to relate to any of my crap. If you never felt like you were about to get caught in the eye of a storm, being the mothering storm something made up only in your sick mind, than you won’t get it either. Call me over-dramatic all you want, but all that cliché bull we’ve all heard about no battle being greater than the one we have to fight against ourselves, it’s true, and after living for twenty two years old, being depression a constant  companion since ten, I guess I can add my two cents into the cause.

There’s this thing about being someone who constantly feels sorry towards ourselves: we are the only ones allowed to do so, and that’s how we start to push people away until we find ourselves all alone and drawing in a pool of self pity and shame, well aware of just how much we screwed up, but lacking the energy and self esteem to actually do something about it. So you just… don’t. At least not until you wake up in a hospital bed, not knowing the first thing about how you ended up there in the first place.

-  Don’t worry, you are alive. Although I’m not sure if I should say congratulations or my condolences… Well, anyway, welcome back.

- And who the are you? Actually, where the I am?

- Yoongi. Min Yoongi. And this, my friend, is a hospital. Psychiatric ward, I must add.

- Park Jimin. Hi.

[end of POV]

The red haired boy proceeded to lean on his elbows to take a look around, a needle in his vein feeding him the glycols he surely have been in need for a while now. The dark haired and extremely pale guy in the bed right next to his still kept his attention on him, a small smile forming in his lips as if he had found himself in the same confusing situation before – well, he did. More than once, actually, but who’s counting?

 YG: So, Park Jimin, any idea how you ended up here? – he asked calmly, turning his attention back to the book in his hands.

JM: Not really. I just… I remember leaving the studio at 19pm sharp, then heading straight to the subway station… the rest is a blur. – Jimin answered more to himself than to the other, still deeply confused as to why he was in a hospital when he was feeling just fine this morning. This morning? – Wait, what day is today?

YG: Chill, it’s still Friday. Well, at least for the next 10 minutes. – The brunette answered while checking on the clock in the wall – They brought you in around 19:40pm, then checked your vitals, realized you weren’t going to die but proceeded to take a blood sample just in case. Turned out you are extremely undernourished for someone wearing a Gucci jacket, y’know… - he trailed off unamused and then spared the red haired a small glance – But I’m pretty sure you are well aware of it… – He continued and then realized how the other seemed to hold his breath, avoiding his eyes quickly and staring at his own hands – … And so are the doctors. – He finished and tilted his head, pointing at the clipboard hanging from Jimin’s headboard with bold letters: SUSPECTED EATING DISORDER. KEEP ON NOTICE.

Jimin’s eyes grew large as he reached for the clipboard to read it further. Park Jimin. Birth: 95-OCT-13. Korean. Male. 1.73m. 52kg. BMI 16,8. Pulse: stable.

JM: Uh… I’m… - he blinked a few times, still dizzy and confused. Did he pass out? Where did he pass out? Who brought him in? Does anyone knows? – Do you know who… Uh… who brought me in? I mean, did they say it, or…?

YG: Apparently you fainted in the subway station, and people called the emergency. They got your documents and phone from your pocket, but were unable to reach any relative up to now. Well, once they noticed you are all skin and bones and your blood test results came like despite your rich kid clothes and 200 bucks sneakers, they put 2+2 together, so… Well, welcome to the psychiatric. – the other explained briefly, offering him a weak but honest smile.

JM: I see… 

It wasn’t the first time he had fainted, but usually it would happen on his flat, where he would casually wake up in the kitchen floor with a massive headache and numb limbs, a glass of water broken right next to him. In those occasions he would just get up and get himself a glass of orange juice or a coffee with cream and enough sugar to keep him on his feet at least for the next hours, or gladly a few days.

He also wasn’t sure about when it started, just that one day he looked at the mirror and despised whatever he saw there. His face looked enormous, his thighs looked flab and weird, and his stomach was way too stuffed, despite the carved muscles adorning his abs. To be honest, he himself couldn’t really point out at what was the real problem, he just knew something looked off and he hated it. He hated that he couldn’t be as handsome as his classmates, or the boys at studio, or the idols on the MVs. He hated that he couldn’t look in the mirror and be proud of his own reflection. He hated that he couldn’t look good even in the nice clothes his mother would get him. He hated that despite having plenty of people constantly praising him for his cute face and nice body, he still couldn’t bring himself to agree. He hated even more that whenever someone would flirt with him, he would always take it as pity, or ual frustration, or both. He hated it all, but mostly, he hated himself.

JM: Since you already know more about me than 2/3 the people I spend my days with, I guess I can ask: what are you in for? – He questioned, deciding it was for the best to have someone distracting him from his current thoughts and worries. 

 YG: Panic syndrome and insomnia. – he answered dismissively, grinning as soon as he watched the younger scrunching his nose in confusion. – You know, as in you freak the out whenever you get stressed about something – or anything, really – and then you can’t bring yourself to sleep because you can’t get your stupid brain to just shut the up for a goddamn second, and then after 40 hours and enough caffeine to murder an elephant, your body finally gives up and… well, here I am. – He finished as if he was telling a child the same history for the 10^th time already, face and tone apathetic and flat. – Basically I’m a drama queen who overreacts to everything and can’t keep its together. – He added and clicked his tongue in a weird but cute manner.

JM: Cute. – Jimin mocked and reciprocated the smile. – For how long you’ve been here?

YG: Three days. Getting out of emergency tomorrow and heading to the therapy ward, tough.

JM: Oh. So they won’t, like, let you leave?

YG: No way. If they do so, then we’ll just be back here in no time and all of their efforts are going to a waste – or their taxes, which is the same at the end of the day. – Jimin just remained silent as if contemplating the matter, sighing heavily. He knew how this things worked, and he knew he wasn’t gonna get rid of this place so soon, but still he needed the closure of a proper answer.

JM: Is it your first time here?

YG: Third. And hopefully the last. – He answered and then closed his book, proceeding to hit the power plug to turn off the lights. – Better go to sleep, Park Jimin. Tomorrow is going to be a full day. – He said and turned around, giving the red haired his backs. Jimin stared at the dark ceiling of the room for a little while before his world turned black again.

~~~~~~

YG: I honestly don’t get it – the older said, blowing a thin cloud of smoke from his lips into the cold night sky of New Jersey – I mean, of course it’s not something anyone could simply understand, otherwise it wouldn’t be a called a disorder – He added and then shrugged, proceeding to look at the other who was lying sprawled on the floor, resting his head on his thighs – Anyway, you got my point.

JM: Yeah, I know… - the red haired said lazily, eyes shut, comfortable in Yoongi’s warmth.

By the 15^th day at the clinic, both managed to build a tight friendship. Yoongi had been indeed discharged from the emergency into the therapy ward in that next day, and Jimin was left all alone for the reminiscent seven days he still had left in that small room before being transferred to therapy as well. Only three days later the hospital managed to get in touch with his father, the owner and CEO of a technology company, back in Seoul. Upon hearing about his son’s condition, the man only sighed through the phone and then proceeded to say “My secretary will be contacting you weekly about the expenses. Do whatever seems fit.”, and hung up. Never once the man asked for his son or the phone, nor asked about his current health or development. For whatever was worth, Jimin also never asked nor mentioned his father, whose checks would be coming in religiously every Friday, not even in their daily group-therapy. Yoongi was the only one that heard all about how Jimin’s mother left home when he was around seven, moved to England with her affair, and would send him expensive gifts in his every birthday and Christmas, but never really mentioned anything about visiting him, or invited him to do so and get to know her new family, which he learned through a Instagram picture that constituted of two sisters, twins, born in 2011.

Jimin’s father have never really been much into the picture, always too busy working and screwing his associate’s wives over their backs (which was the very reason his mother finally got fed up and left, and Jimin couldn’t even bring himself to blame her for it). At first, the man would bring him to some company dinners, bragging about how much of a good student his heir was and how much of a great businessman he would grow up to be. It only lasted until Jimin turned thirteen and the old man learned through the school’s principal how his son had been cutting classes to go to the dancing studio nearby; things only got worse when, a year later, the principal also gave him a call to tell him all about how the Polo coach caught him with his tongue down another boy’s throat in their changing room after class. “I knew you were growing up to be a pain in my , but I never really took you for a goddamn .”, was the last thing his father said to him, right before telling him to pack his things. The next morning he was in a plane heading to board school in America, never having the chance to say goodbye to any of his friends.

Eventually Jimin managed to graduate and leave that damn place in order to finally go back to dancing, getting himself a nice place in the heart of Jersey as soon as he turned eighteen, near the worldwide famous Move Dance Studio. There he met his first friend outside home: a Korean boy named Jung Hoseok, who was a scholarship transfer student and had nothing but an overflowing passion for dance and an optimistic personality that allowed him to get through the hardships of being just another foreigner, coming from a poor environment, in search for the so called American Dream. Five months ago Jimin offered for the boy to move together with him, seeing how he was struggling to pay for the rent of the small room he lived in. Despite not being in talking terms with his father – if he still could call him a father after being literally shut out for so many years now – he had all his living expenses well covered up by the fat royalties of his company’s shares. The red haired boy had enough pride to avoid getting in touch with his parents, but it didn’t mean he was going to play dumb and give up on his legal rights; whether his father liked it or not, he was still his son so that money belonged to him, and, just to prove a point, Jimin made sure to slid lots of it in tight leather underpants of muscular strippers in the gay clubs he went to frequently.        

YG: I mean… not to be a creeper or anything, but you are really attractive, Jimin. Just knowing that you look in the mirror everyday and don’t ing see it… man, that’s all levels of ed up. – Yoongi blew out and Jimin chuckled in his lap.

JM: I get it a lot. And believe me: I don’t ing get it either. Like, I know that whatever it is that I see in the mirror… it isn’t the real me. I know that’s just a projection of my ed up image of myself, just my inexistent self esteem playing tricks on me. Trust me when I say that I know it all. Yet… I just can’t fight it, y’know? Real or not, it’s still there, and it haunts me nonstop. – the younger reasoned, taking the cigarette from the older’s lips and placing it in his own - In the same way that, like you said so yourself, you are well aware that you keep blowing out of proportion, but still you can’t fight the overwhelming anxiety that comes from it.

YG: Same , different subject. I see. – he said clicking his tongue and tilting his head – a habit of his that Jimin happened to find extremely adorable. Actually, Jimin happened to love lots of things about Yoongi, specially after once he came out to him and expected him to react just like everyone else, the older simply shrugged and let out a “I don’t believe in uality. People are just people, and is just . Being a male or a female… it’s merely a detail. I don’t get it why society is so obsessed about labeling things.” That was the moment Jimin fell. And boy, he fell hard. If Yoongi ever noticed how ing infatuated the younger was, he never really hinted on it.

 JM: Y’know – he started after a few minutes of comfortable silence – I just realized I don’t really know about you.

YG: Maybe there’s nothing to know. – the older retorted dismissively.

JM: You are a 25 year old music pd, too talented for your own good, who can spend literal days, all by yourself, just collected in deep thought and in complete silence without even seeming slightly bothered about it, and who have so much going on inside this mop of black hair of yours that you can’t even get a ing proper sleep. Yet, you expect me to believe this bull? – Jimin spat out and got up on his elbows to take a proper look into the older’s face. – I should be offended, really.

YG: I’m being completely honest with you. Like you just pointed out, I can’t even bring myself to socialize or talk or take a goddamn nap, so when and how exactly would I even have the time or the opportunity to do anything interesting? – Yoongi reasoned matter-of-factly, and Jimin just narrowed his eyes, twisting his lips a little.

JM: Touché. – he said after a few seconds – Ok, you got me there. But seriously, don’t you just… I don’t know, get bored sometimes? Like, you really don’t ever feel like just leaving the house and sharing a few drinks with random strangers you are never going to see ever again in a bar or something? – He inquired curious.

YG: Sometimes, yeah… But then I remember that in order to actually do any of this, I need to actually take a bath, get dressed, leave the house, take a cab, find a place, introduce myself to people, and make stupid small talk which I totally at. And that’s when I give up on the idea. – he answered with a chuckle, full aware of how hard Jimin must be judging him right now.

JM: So you’re telling me you are just too lazy to exist. Probably even too lazy to sleep – Jimin joked and Yoongi laughed at it. – Damn, and to think I was actually worried about you… Geez.

YG: Well, I’ve been telling it to my therapist, but the dude just won’t listen… - he joked back and Jimin smiled, eyes turning into two adorable crescent moons, rosy and soft cheeks adorning his face, replacing the inexistent and lifeless ones he had the first time Yoongi laid eyes on his small frame in that hospital bed. Jimin looked like he had come straight out of a manga: small face, sharp jaw, plump soft lips, a cute little nose and adorable expressive brown eyes. As soon as Yoongi got his eyes on that tiny boy being carried hurriedly to the bed, lips slightly blue and heartbeat rate slowly disappearing, he felt an instant need to just take him in his arms and take care of him. There was just something about that particular boy, maybe the way his forehead never once relaxed even when he was deeply asleep, or the way his lips would part in the middle of the night and whisper little whines, or simply how he would still flash him a honest smile in the morning after Yoongi had heard him crying his heart out until dawn when he thought no one would be listening. He had also noticed how the younger would blush whenever he would catch him staring from a distance, or how his breathe would get caught in his throat whenever their bodies would be pressed together in the small sofa of the recreation room, or the way he would always rather share his cigarette instead of simply asking for one. Yoongi might give out a distracted vibe, but he was never dense; actually, the ones who speak less are usually born observers that can take notice of every little detail on their surroundings, as well as see easily through people. Up until this day this ability of his has never really done anything for him other than provide him a front-row view of the inner ugliness of the world and the people who live in it – which was subconsciously the reason why it never seemed appealing to him despite all his efforts to enjoy it like a guy his age was supposed to. But now, being the first time he took interest in anyone other than himself, it finally felt more like a blessing than a curse, because he was able to not only see Jimin, but also see through Jimin, and he found nothing but raw pain and a rare sincerity and purity inside of his restless eyes. It was the first time his heart fluttered because of someone, and he was glad it chose to do so towards the right person.

JM: Yoongi… Have you ever been in love? – the younger suddenly asked, face turning towards him. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to realize how Jimin had snuggled up to him, his warm puffs of breathe hitting his cold cheek as he spoke from a extremely close distance. Yoongi glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, not daring to turn towards him when they had such little space separating their faces. – It’s okay if you don’t want to answer. I mean, I know you are a reserved person and yet I’m being all nosy and … – Jimin said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

YG: It’s okay. I don’t mind. It’s just… well, I wasn’t expecting that one. – he answered and smiled watching a grin form on the younger’s lips from his peripheral vision. – And to your question: not really. I mean… it’s a very subjective feeling. I guess despite all those ideals that are constantly shoved down people’s throats, love doesn’t really have a pattern, or color, or shape. It just feels different for everyone. – the older said, and as usual the way he always sounded so wise and deep never failed to amaze Jimin and make him fall even further into a helpless state of pure bliss and admiration. Yoongi always had an unique vision of the everything, his own way of simplifying even such a complex feeling as love, and Jimin couldn’t help but to feel safe and peaceful around him. He also couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, confusing the older who looked around searching for what was so funny. – What?

JM: You. It’s just… God, it’s so annoying. You are such an annoying ing genius, and it annoys me. ing annoys me, because I keep… - he trailed off and looked down at his hands, massaging his temples – I keep falling so damn hard for you that I feel completely pathetic. There, I said it. – he threw hands, literally, sighing heavily while looking up front to the dim city lights that expanded way beyond his sight. Yoongi just remained silent and composed beside him, a hint of a smile adorning the corner of his lips. – I’m sorry, okay? I fell for you. I couldn’t help it. I know you are not interested in me like that. We are just friends, it was never supposed to turn out that weird, but of course I just had to screw everything. Like, I don’t even expect you to explain yourself, I mean, who would ever be interested in me like that, anyway? I’m ugly and dumb and childish, literally so out of your league that I should have never even mentioned any of this in the first place. So, like, if you don’t want to talk to me or see me ever again I’ll totally understand it, and I- Jimin’s desperate babbling was interrupted by a pair of thin lips over his. He froze in the spot, unresponsive, and then Yoongi pulled apart with a smirk, mouthing a “you done?” at him who simply nodded, eyes wide in shock.

YG: First of all: I’m the farthest thing from a genius you can possibly imagine, but I’m definitely annoying - you can bet your on it. Second: don’t ever apologize for your feelings, not for me, not for anyone. Third: if you ever give me this ugly, dumb, whateverthe  again… I’ll kick you six ways to Friday. – he said and Jimin lowered his eyes and flashed a shy smile. Yoongi then grabbed his chin and forced his head up to stare at him directly in the eyes – I don’t care how you perceive yourself. I don’t care what you see in the mirror when you look at it. I specially don’t care how much you hate yourself even though you are a literal ing ray of sunshine in a dark and ugly world. – he stopped and wiped a warm tear that rolled down Jimin’s cheek with his thumb, giving him a comforting smile – I don’t care about any of it, because I’m willing to worship your face and your body, and adore every single thing about you, good or bad. I’m willing to try and make you see for yourself just how precious and valuable you are, but, even if I fail to, it’ll still be okay because I can love you enough for the both of us. – the younger let out a sob, heavy tears streaming down his face and wetting were it landed in the fabric of his worn out jeans – And then, even if I can’t sleep to the point that I’m literally too tired to even breathe, I’ll still be able to keep my together because… - he leaned even closer, their lips barely an inch away - because you are going to need me to. – he finished, feeling Jimin breathing heavily right against his lips, tickling it – Well… if you want me to, of course.

The younger never answered with words, choosing to close the reminiscent space between them in a searing kiss, letting his actions speak louder than any sentence ever could. They couldn’t tell how long it was going to last, or if it was going to even last at all. They knew it was going to be hard, for both of them have enough to deal with already. They knew some days would be colorful and sunny, but most days would be gray and rainy as their inner feelings would effectively craw l to the surface like it has been doing for years, for both of them. But, even though they knew it all, they were not going to walk away. “You can be my umbrella, and I’ll be your personal sun”, Jimin said in between kisses, both smiling as they dove in for the next. It was officially the first day of the rest of their lives.

The end.