“It was instantaneous, he probably didn’t feel a thing.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything, but his fists clench in his lap, and the nurse is quick to leave, realizing she may have said too much.

His heart aches. No, not his heart. His heart.

Yoongi’s heart is the one that beats in his chest now, stronger than ever. A morbid part of himself wonders- if he cuts his chest open, if he looks inside himself at Yoongi, will he still see colour?

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Jimin was supposed to be the one to die, to leave this grey empty world behind for Yoongi to endure.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Jimin hunches over on his bed clutching his heart and cries.

***

 Yoongi’s funeral is a closed-casket affair. Understandable, considering he died from head injuries more than anything else. It had been a slightly inebriated driver, who hadn't seen Yoongi walking home late at night - Jimin always tells Yoongi to wear a brighter jacket, but Yoongi likes black too much.

Had liked, Jimin reminds himself, and he swallows hard, choking down the tears.

His family isn’t there. He hadn’t had much of one to attend in the first place. The majority of the people attending are hospital staff, and they cycle in and out as shifts start and end.

Jimin is possibly the only one that stays from beginning to end. He stares at the casket stonily, wonders what colours the people had picked out. Not like he can tell what they are any more.

The absence of colour only reminds him further of what he’s lost, and Jimin ends up closing his eyes, unable to deal with the black and white that he now sees.

It’s worse, somehow, having seen colour only to go back to monochrome.

Maybe this is what I get for being selfish. For wanting to see.

Be careful what you wish for, huh.

Jimin finds himself laughing alone after the ceremony is over, after everyone else has left. He kneels on the grey ground and laughs into the grey sky and cries grey tears at the bitter grey irony of his situation.

***

The weirdest thing about seeing grey again is that sometimes he still sees flashes of colour.

It’s always the small things. Jimin will pass by the hospital and think of Yoongi and how they met and suddenly he can see the bright red cross marking the entrance. Or he’ll be in a park glancing up at the sky and remember how they cried together on the roof and he’ll blink and see the blue fading out of his vision.

It never happens when he tries to do it. He can think about Yoongi and his smile and his low voice and the way he cared so much even though he tried not to and nothing will happen, but when he glances at the colour photo Yoongi left him he can still see hints of colour sometimes.

He wonders why nobody else he knows of has reported this kind of thing, but he figures it’s because nobody wants to be reminded of what they lost.

***

Jimin is staring through the photos that Yoongi left him when it happens.

He still remembers which ones are in colour and which ones are in black and white. The photos themselves remind him sometimes, when they flash brightly for just a moment.

Trailing his fingers down one of Yoongi, Jimin waits for the colour to appear, but it doesn’t.

Sighing, he drops it, brings up a hand to cover his eyes. He remembers so much of Yoongi, and at the same time not enough. There was so much he still didn’t know about his soulmate. Had he liked music? What kind? Did he sing? Jimin thinks of Yoongi singing with that beautiful low voice of his- he would have been a wonderful singer, Jimin thinks privately.

What kind of food did Yoongi like to eat? Did he cook? Or did he always eat out? Would he have liked Jimin’s cooking? How would he have reacted to things he didn’t like?

Had Yoongi been happy in the end? Had he enjoyed his time with Jimin? Or did a part of him hate Jimin for being weak, for having a death date looming over the both of them?

Had Yoongi loved him in the end?

Jimin lets his hand fall and as he does, his heart wrenches, and colour pulses in his sight.

But it doesn’t make sense.

He reaches out with trembling fingers, touches the photo in front of him, the one that’s retaining its colour for so much longer than anything else has.

It’s a solo shot of Jimin, and it doesn’t make sense- why should this have colour when Yoongi is nowhere in it?

And he can feel his heart beating so painfully in his chest, and he shuts his eyes and he presses a hand to his heart and hunches over and begins to cry because it does make sense.

It’s not his colour that he’s seeing, the same way it’s not his heart that’s beating in his chest.

It’s Yoongi’s. 

[[A/N: I'm sorry. I look at this story and I see so many imperfections but... hopefully some of you will enjoy reading it. I might come back and rewrite it one day, there's a lot of things I meant to do with this story and there's hints of small plots or character development that never went anywhere, I just don't think I have the energy/time/skill to make this better right now. Feel free to rewrite it yourself if you want, but I'd like it if you messaged me so I could read it :D]]