AN: It has officially been an eternity and half but I am back and I have not given up on this frickin story. Thank you so much to all the subscribers and commenters, you guys are so sweet and amazing and I feel so ty for putting this off for forever. 

Enjoy!

PAINT THE ROSES RED

four: without pictures or conversations

When he arrives at his next destination, he just lies on his back for a while.

He lies on his back, and he stares at the gray-blue ceiling above him. It's quiet, wherever he is, and there aren't many people around him. Occasionally he hears the shuffling of something, but mostly it's a very silent place.

He truly hates himself.

He cannot believe that memory he just witnessed.

Taehyung was such an amazing friend. From the very beginning, it was as if he understood Jimin. It was as if he understood that Jimin was so different, and that to be friends with Jimin, you were going to have to put up with some extraordinary troubles. Whatever happened, Taehyung was ready to, and did, face it all.

Jimin clenches his eyes shut as he feels the sting of tears approaching.

He completely ruined one of the best relationships in his entire life because of nothing.

He remembers why he even got into that fight with Taehyung in the first place.

The night before, him and his friends had been partying, and once again, everyone else had scampered off to go dance with who-knows-who leaving Jimin alone at a table. Jimin had been a little upset, naturally (and downed some alcohol to help himself feel better), so Taehyung had calmly approached Jimin. He said, "If my friends did something and it bugged me, I would just talk to them about it."

Absolutely nothing wrong with that statement.

It was in no way accusing.

But Jimin…

Oh, Jimin.

Jimin was so insecure. He was so lost. He was so drunk. He was so everything that he hated that he completely lost it.

He flew up, knocked over a couple drinks on the table, hurled various profanities towards Taehyung, and stormed out of the club.

The next day, Taehyung had come over to apologize.

But once again, Jimin was so insecure and arrogant and in denial that he blew it all out of proportion, and an apology somehow spiraled into an all out fight about life choices.

And…

…Well, Jimin doesn't need to remember the rest.

He just saw it. Jimin takes a shaky breath in and brings a hand up to his forehead.

He had made so many mistakes in his life. So many mistakes that he will never be able to fix.

Plonk!

Something suddenly topples to the ground on Jimin's left. Slowly, he turns his head and looks.

It's a book.

Jimin blinks.

"Whoops."

A voice comes from behind his head, and he contorts his body so that he can more clearly see the source. His eyes widen.

There, his fifteen-year-old self stands, peering through the shelf of books to the book on the ground next to Jimin's head. Quickly, he scampers around and picks up the dropped novel before placing it neatly back on the shelf.

Jimin sits up.

He looks around; he's at the local library.

A small smile creeps onto his face before he can help it.

This place was like his second home for so long. Books were his escape; writing was his escape; getting away from reality for quiet moments was his escape. This place was, as far as he was concerned, one of his lifelines for over ten years.

But then…he sighs because he remembers that he'll never again see this place in real life.

Something to his side suddenly stirs. Jimin's attention is diverted back to his fifteen-year-old self.

"Hm, this looks kinda cool," his younger self murmurs, and Jimin notices that he's scanning the back of a new novel he picked up off of the shelf.

Jimin strains to see the title.

Demian.

Jimin's face breaks out into an all-out grin.

This was the day he discovered his favorite book.

Demian was checked out over fifteen times by Jimin in a matter of three in a half years until he finally got the initiative to just go out and buy himself a copy at the local bookstore. It was his main source of philisophical inspiration for two years.

It's kind of neat to witness the day he first discovered it, Jimin decides.

His fifteen-year-old self finishes reading the summary on the back of the book. To himself, he smiles and nods, pleased. He takes a breath in and tucks the novel under his arm, and then he heads off to the checkout line.

Jimin remains seated, because he really feels no need to go follow himself.

But all of a sudden, right before his younger self walks out of earshot, he hears the familiar tone of his old cell phone begin ringing. Fifteen-year-old Jimin picks up his mobile and quickly clicks it on.

"Hey, Soomi," he greets.

Soomi. His high school girlfriend.

Jimin suddenly knows what the next memory is going to be.

"This is the second effing time, Soomi! I just—I just…I can't believe you!"

Jimin is standing outside of his ex-girlfriend's house, watching his younger self and the girl fight.

He remembers this night crystal clear.

He was so unbelievably head-over-heels for Soomi. He doesn't even really know why know that he looks back on it. Soomi was obnoxious and fake and not even really that appealing. But for some godforsaken reason, Jimin was obsessed with her.

Or maybe just the idea of her. The idea of fitting into the mold of perfect, straight highscool couple.

Naturally, since he was so "in love" with the girl, the first time she cheated on him, he let it slide. After all, as soon as Jimin found out, Soomi burst into "tears" (they were on the phone; her blubbering could easily have been fake) and began repeating over and over just how much she "adored" him.

Jimin took her back.

A couple months later, Jimin found himself being completely ignored. He was lucky to get a phone call from her every two and a half weeks, and she barely spoke a word to him in school. Whenever Jimin asked her about it, she blamed it on her "cheerleading" and how "her daddy doesn't want me to use my cell so much".

Jimin was so naive (or maybe in denial, Jimin can't really decide); he bought all the crap she threw at him.

One night, though, one Saturday night, Jimin decided that he wanted to go and see her. He sneaked out of his house and walked the twenty minutes to her home at seven o'clock in the evening on a whim.

He climbed up to her window and the first thing he saw was her with some other guy.

She happened to look towards her window at the perfect time, and her eyes grew wide as she saw her boyfriend in her window watching her fool around with some other guy, mouth agape in shock. Immediately, she jumped up, and Jimin jumped down.

He was halfway down her yard, his heart pounding, not sure what to really think or feel when he heard his name,

"Jimin!"

And in this moment Jimin arrived to watch.

His fifteen-year-old self's eyes are blazing with fury (he finally decided what to feel as soon as he came face to face with the girl) as he watches Soomi stutter and try to find something to say to the cold, hard truth he had just hurled in his face.

She cannot think of anything.

Jimin frowns.

His younger self just shakes his head. The fury tones down from his eyes, and instead they fill up with pity. He takes a breath in, exhales it tremulously, and then he speaks,

"I feel so bad for you."

Soomi blinks. She frowns, now.

"Why?" she asks softly.

Fifteen-year-old Jimin stares at her blankly but confidently. And then out of his lips comes the most perfect thing possible…

"Because you have to live with yourself."

He walks off without another word.

Jimin won't lie as he looks back on that night.

He was devastated. He was miserable. He did feel like a worthless fool. He might not have shown it initially, but the feelings were most certainly there.

As soon as he got back home he slammed his door shut and flopped onto his bed and inhaled shakily and started to cry.

Jimin now sits in the corner and watches his fifteen-year-old self shake his head and try and stop the tears. His stare is blank; he wants to feel bad for himself, but he won't, because now that he looks back on it, now that he' s witnessed it, he realizes what an imbecile he was for taking Soomi back and trusting her when she was so obviously horrid.

With that thought, fifteen-year-old Jimin suddenly stops his crying. He groans a little, and he wipes his eyes. Then, slowly, he leans over his bed, peers under it, reaches, and comes back up with a tattered, black notebook.

Jimin, in the corner, smiles.

Oh, how many thoughts were scribbled on those pages.

His younger self opens the book and grabs a pencil off of his nightstand. Quickly, he flips to a clean page and begins to scribble without another thought.

Jimin continues sitting, unseen and unheard, in the corner of his old bedroom for a few minutes, just allowing his younger self to write and write.

Jimin smiles as the memory around him slowly fades.

"Jimin, this is kind of gay."

Jimin can't help but let out a laugh as he watches seventeen-and-a-half year old Taehyung and his eighteen-year-old self at the Makeup Counter at the mall.

His younger self is staring into the mirror on the counter, gliding golden eyeliner onto his upper eyelids carefully. This was when he had first dyed his hair a light golden brown, exploring the new ways he could change his looks. Taehyung is standing behind him anxiously, grinning and glancing at all the people that walk by and give him and Jimin odd looks.

Jimin walks over to himself and his best friend, and he hops carefully onto the clear counter. He begins to happily watch how his younger self will react.

His eighteen-year-old self just huffs. He puts down the eyeliner, examines its appearance in the mirror, and smiles a bit to himself. Then, he turns to Taehyung smirking.

"You're one to talk Taetae. You wish you looked this good right now."

Taehyung pouts jokingly.

"Nope. I'm pretty sure putting on sparkly gold makeup is as gay as it gets, Jimin. What's it called, 'Gold n Ghei'?"

He chuckles and shakes his head, and then he walks over to the counter to stand next to his best friend.

"So…which color do you think would look best on me?" he says with his classic box smile.

Eighteen-year-old Jimin, who had turned back to the makeup and was putting the eye shadows he had pulled out away, suddenly stops what he's doing. He turns to his best friend, brown eyes wide. He raises an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you wanna?" he asks mischieviously.

Taehyung laughs. He shakes his head. "Why not? I actually do wanna look as good as you right now. And besides, I've always wondered what I'd look like in makeup."

Both younger and older Jimin let out a laugh.

Jimin mentally decides that to witness these forgotten but oh-so sweet memories is definitely something he will cherish.

His eighteen-year-old self takes a breath in after Taehyung finishes his explanation.

"Okay, fine," he pauses, thinking. "Um…I think you're definitely a purple person with those eyes of yours."

Jimin turns back to the stand of makeup behind him and grabs a bright, 70s-style purple and a sparkly gray purple. He opens them, plops them down on the counter, grabs a sample brush, and turns to his friend.

"Okay, come here."

Taehyung blinks.

Jimin rolls his eyes.

"Do you want me to do this or not?"

Taehyung grins lazily. "Fine." He walks over, hops up onto the counter next to Jimin, and closes his eyes. "It's a good thing I love you so much, Minnie," he murmurs, and Jimin's younger self laughs.

"You too, Tae. Now open your eyes for a minute; I have to decide which color to use."

Taehyung obeys, and for a minute, before applying anything, eighteen-year-old Jimin simply holds up the two colors to his friend's face. Finally, he announces,

"Got it. Now close your eyes and don't squirm too much or you'll look like an 80s drag queen gone wrong."

Taehyung quickly closes his eyes and plants himself stone still which was an amazing feat in itself.

Younger Jimin carefully begins to apply the makeup to his friend's eyelids, and while he does, Jimin watches, fascinated in a strange way, with a smile on his face. Snippets of conversation start up, and each time they do, Jimin can't help but chuckle at them.

"Ow, Jimin!"

"That didn't hurt."

"Yes it did!"

"No, Tae, it didn't."

Silence.

"…So you're sure this isn't gay like at all?"

"Uh…well…maybe a little."

"Jimin."

"Why do you even care? It's the 21st century; guys can be gay if they want to!"

"I know, you're right! It's weird for me because at least I've got some masculinity and a deep voice. People don't question my uality so much and I'm only barely gay not `I'm-prettier-than-half-of-the-girls-in-this-mall-so-I-might-be-really-kind-of-gay' like you are!"

"Go die in a fire, Taehyung. Go die in a fire."  

Whispering Jimin says "You're so full Tae."

"What was that Jiminie?"

"Oh, nothing."

(That last conversation really got Jimin laughing.)

"So are you going to try eyeliner on me next?"

"Maybe."

"…Maybe? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means maybe."

"You , Jimin."

"You too, Taetae."

Finally, the makeup application is done. Eighteen-year-old Jimin steps back to admire his work, a proud smile on his face.

"There. I'm done. Check it out," Younger Jimin says, and Taehyung opens his eyes, blinks a few times, and then turns to see himself in the mirror.

Jimin strains to watch his friend's reaction.

Taehyung simply stares blankly for a few moments, and then a small, small smile creeps onto his face and he whispers,

"…I like it."

Eighteen-year-old Jimin beams. "I knew you would. You can't deny that the color looks great on you."

Taehyung blinks, and his smile disappears. He flies up, turns, and points accusingly at his best friend.

"Gay! Gay! Jimin, you are gay! Gay as a goose, I swear it!"

"What does that even mean?!"

Both Jimins burst into laughter.

Taehyung shakes his head. "Let's just pay for your liquid eyeliner and get out of here already."

Younger Jimin nods. "'Kay. You sure you don't wanna buy any of the eye shadow?"

Taehyung scoffs. "Yeah right. If my family found it I'd never hear the end of it. For now, I think I'll remain a closet, part-time makeup wearer."

Eighteen-year-old Jimin chuckles. "Okay," he pauses. "…But, you do like it, right?"

Jimin frowns. There's a hopeful, almost sad tone to his younger self's voice, but he can't quite figure out why. He figures it's just that ever-annoying, ever-present insecurity of his.

Taehyung must notice this as well, because he gets a warm smile on his face and immediately answers,

"I do. I wouldn't lie to you; I think it actually looks really good."

Eighteen-year-old Jimin smiles back. "Thanks. Now, let's get going."

Jimin turns to watch his younger self and Taehyung pay for the eyeliner at the register, and he blinks as he watches what suddenly happens.

Out of Jimin's jacket pocket falls a piece of notebook paper. Taehyung reaches down, helpfully picking it up, until he actually opens it. Then, he stops mid-action as his eyes widen.

"God…Jimin, you drew this?"

Jimin strains to see what is decorating the paper.

All across the lined sheet, with a dark, dark ink pen, Jimin had drawn his signature "makeup art." Bats, swirls, trees, moons…all of it was drawn across the paper. Here and there Jimin had also taken some shiny, sparkling blue-gray, black, silver, and violet paint and splashed night sky color and stars. It truly was a lovely, unique piece of art.

Jimin suddenly remembers that it was around this time that he first began experimenting with makeup and such. He would do little sketches in his notebook with paint and ink pen or practice with eyeliner and other makeup products when he was alone.

His younger self suddenly spots what Taehyung is looking at, and his face flushes bright red. Immediately, he grabs the sheet of his best friend's hand and stuffs it into his pocket.

"I-it's nothing. I was just messing around last night; got bored," he mummers, and looks away awkwardly.

Taehyung frowns.

"What are you so worked up for? It's not like it  or anything. It's really amazing, actually; and it's a drawing. No big deal. You're an artist."

His younger self glares half-heartedly at Tae. "I just didn't want anyone to see it. It was just something I did last night `cause I was staying late at school and got bored; it's nothing special. I'd thrown it into my jacket pocket `cause there was nowhere else to put it. I was planning on throwing it away, anyway."

Taehyung stares at his friend, blinking in disbelief; once again, his best friend is overwhelming negative and self-conscious.

Really, it's even driving Jimin crazy, and it's himself.

Eighteen-year-old Jimin grabs his bag of recently purchased liquid eyeliner and begins walking out of the store with a mumbled,

"C'mon. There're some new CDs out at the music place I wanna check out."

But before the two best friends leave the store fully, Jimin watches as his younger self pulls out the piece of notebook paper from his pocket, crumples it up, and throws it into the nearest trash can.

Eighteen-year-old Jimin sits at the piano bench in his old apartment and plays a chord on the keyboard resting in front of him. The sound resonates throughout the room, and he pauses for a moment.

Jimin stands in the corner near the light, arms crossed, watching. His younger self is playing music.

It's been so long since he remembers himself being so…truthful and really happy when playing music.

He sighs, and he moves and sits down on the tattered, old couch next to him. Once he's sprawled out onto the floppy cushions, he takes the liberty and starts to look around, remembering this time in his life as he takes in the surroundings.

The walls of the apartment are paint chipped and peeling. They're colored a depressing, drab gray; the off-white, unappealing carpets are torn and Jimin smells the dust and mold. There's very little furniture, and several sleeping bags are piled into one corner by the porch door (It wasn't really a porch, even, Jimin remembers. It was more like two-by-four feet of splinter-filled, creaky wood that nobody ever really went out on, anyway.)

This was the apartment he shared with Yoongi, Taehyung and Hoseok.

Jimin smiles despite himself.

He remembers how disgusting and depressing the place was to live in, but he remembers how he and the guys were just thankful to even have a place to go home to at night.

He remembers how many packs of Ramen noodles were devoured and how many silly games of Truth or Dare were played.

He remembers how he grew closer with every single one of the guys and learned a lot about them while living in the unpleasant conditions.

He remembers how humble he used to be; how he always hated the idea of being selfish and reckless.

Jimin swallows.

Oh, how things changed.

His eighteen-year-old stops playing as he hears his cellphone ring, and promptly looks at the caller ID.

Jimin watches.

Younger Jimin then leans back in his chair and chucks his pencil down on the ground. He runs his hands through his dyed, soft brown hair and his face breaks out into a small grin.

Jimin can't help, as he is watching, to let his own face break out into a smile as his younger self answers with an enthusiasic "Hello? Hey, Yoongi...no, I'm at home...yeah, fine!"

Jimin suddenly feels a stab of pain in his heart. His stomach drops, and he feels tears threaten the back of his eyes.

Yoongi.

Oh, Yoongi.

Jimin closes his eyes and listens as the person on the other line of the phone rants in his Daegu-accented, husky voice about who-knows-what, and his eighteen-year-old self smiles even more.

Then, there's a pause.

"Okay. Cool. Yeah, just get back here as soon as you can. Bye!"

He hangs up, and Jimin opens his eyes just in time to see his younger self just stand there in the middle of the room.

He smiles to himself, and then he walks off.

Jimin continues to sit on the couch for a moment.

He remembers that feeling.

Happiness.

Jimin really misses that.