"I wish none of this had happened."

"So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

~J.R.R. Tolkein; The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

"I didn't think it would end this way."

"End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it."

"What? Gandalf? See what?"

"White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise."

"Well, that isn't so bad."

"No. No, it isn't."

~J.R.R. Tolkein; The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

1st Half: Jimin's Point of View

The air was frigid outside our protective bundle of blankets. The only part of me that wasn't engulfed by fluffy sheets or warm Jungkook was my left shoulder, and I hastily wiggled further under the covers as soon as my consciousness returned.

Slowly and achingly, things started to come back into focus. A sleeping boy with a winter cap pulled down over his eyes and his long limbs flopped all across my bed lie beside me, his little lips parted as his breath calmly whooshed in and out.

His words from the night before were still alive in my memory like they were currently being said. Everyone deserves a chance to have a forever. You're my forever.

I subconsciously pulled the blankets up closer to his chin, tucking them in around his shoulders and snuggling up closer to his already warm body, just in case he wasn't comfortable. 

It felt unreal - dreamlike, maybe - to be floating in this reality with him. Twenty-four hours ago, he was a ghost of my past whom I'd blocked out in an attempt to save myself. But now Jungkook was back, and there was a chance that forever really was our future.

But, greatly outweighing that chance was the likelihood that our forever would last a total of six months, less than that if he really did have to return to the States.

A dull ache throbbed in my heart at the thought. I wanted a lot of things in life...like a dancing career, a record contract, a lot of money, eternal happiness...but the one gift I wanted more than anything was for Jungkook not to die.

I had never felt more powerless in my life. Before now, when I wanted something I could work for it and get it. I trained every day with Jackson, I studied, I balanced my social life and my school work, and everything was fine. With effort, my life was always decent.

Now...there was nothing I could do. All I could do was wait for the future to play out, wait for fate to decide whether or not the love of my life was going to survive.

I hadn't realized I'd been gazing at his lips for several minutes until he stirred, pushing his hat up over his eyes and squinting at me wearily.

I grinned and blushed at his adorable pout, reaching out and brushing my thumb across his cheek. "Good morning."

"Mmm," he grumbled in response, his scratchy voice reaching a pitch I hadn't imagined could come from him.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"I'm a million degrees," he whined, pushing the covers down to his stomach and stretching his arms up over his head with a massive yawn. "But yeah, I did. Did you?"

"I knocked out pretty quick," I replied, kissing his shoulder once before distancing myself so he could cool down. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Jungkook lolled his head sideways and gazed at me, a mischievous smirk playing around the corners of his lips. "You cook breakfast?"

I scrunched up my nose and hauled myself up into a sitting position. "No, but neither does Jackson, so we take turns cooking ty meals every other day."

He chuckled in that cave man voice, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and arching his back up off the bed as he stretched. "What time is it?"

I leaned over him to glance at my alarm clock. "It's 9:45. When is your appointment?"

"Four," he grumbled, rolling over and wrapping his arms around my waist, burying his face against the waistband of my pants.

"Yah, don't go back to sleep." I rested my hand on the baby-like skin of his back and patted him gently, admiring how white and soft his skin was. "When does your umma want you back at the hotel?"

"I dunno, you talked to her," he sighed, rolling over onto his back so that his head was in my lap. He grinned up at me when I pouted. "Jimin, we're waking up all romantic like in the movies."

It took a few seconds for that to sink in, but my jaw dropped when I caught his reference. "I remember that!"

He giggled, grabbing one of my hands and holding it up to his face, kissing every one of my fingers absentmindedly. "I remember a lot of things from four years ago. Probably more than you do."

"I'd need some reminding, but things have been coming back to me like crazy in the past day," I responded, watching with awe as his soft lashes fluttered when he kissed my hand. "I wonder if Hoseok and Yoongi will get back together."

"I wonder if we will get back together," he said lazily, and then his eyes widened and his jaw tightened when he realized what he'd said. "Don't answer that, I'm sorry."

I placed my free hand on the side of his face, scanning his enormous eyes twice before saying softly, "I hope so."

He smiled shyly, averting his eyes, and rolled out of my lap. "Let's eat breakfast."

...

I cooked him an exceptionally lame meal of fried eggs and buttered toaster waffles. He accepted the plate with a smile, asked for a kiss, and then went on to tell me that I cooked like a two-year-old. Luckily, when I socked him on the shoulder he just laughed.

As we ate, I said something that made him freeze up a bit.

"Can you take off your hat?"

Jungkook grimaced at me, scrunching up his nose and shrinking backwards into the chair. It was bizarre to have anyone other than Jackson sitting in my kitchen, much less the boy who hardly even seemed real anymore.

But there he was, making faces and teasing me just like we were still young and full of hope.

I coaxed him out of the winter hat eventually, but when he took it off, he put it right back on after five or ten seconds.

It wasn't that he looked bad, because he didn't, but it scared me to see what he'd gone through. It scared me to think how real this disease was, and how affected by it he already was. I refused to show my fears, so I just told him he was beautiful to me no matter what and went back to chewing my tasteless toaster waffle.

Tears welled up in his eyes for a second. I didn't say anything. His gentle smile told me I'd done the right thing.

...

We planned to meet Namjoon, Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi, Hyomin, and Taehyung at the park at eleven. After carrying Jungkook down the stairs, feeling proud because of my less prominent shaking, and spending half the car ride babbling about radio music, I said something else that made Jungkook pause.

"Are you afraid of dying?"

He looked thoughtful, playing with the strings of the hoodie I'd lent him. "I am, but not of the actual process. I'm scared of leaving you and the hyungs and my family, but death is an idea I'm kind of used to at this point."

"So you don't want to die, but you're not afraid?"

"I mean..." he shrugged. "It's inevitable at some point. I just don't think I'm ready yet, especially now that I'm with you again."

I thought about saying something like you've lived a great life or you'll be remembered and loved forever, but I wisely remained silent. He didn't need anyone else treating him like he was already dead.

And he wasn't. He still had hope.

"But," he said slowly, still staring at nothing and playing with the hoodie strings. "I think I would be okay dying with you. As in spending the rest of my days with you. I'd rather play out the rest of my life here than go back to America and maybe prolong things."

I waited for him to finish, knowing he wasn't done.

"When I was in America, I wanted to know you were okay. Now I know you are. I don't want to die, but I feel like...like I can now. Like I don't regret anything."

Of course, I didn't want Jungkook to die either. He was much more used to the idea than I was. But I knew I had to accept the idea that it was possible...probable, even...that I would lose him.

I nodded to myself, starting to believe I really was happy as long as he was happy.

...

The hyungs and Hyomin all leapt upon Jungkook when they saw him, almost completely ignoring me and brushing him down from head to toe like he was their child. I didn't mind; I just moved to sit on a bench, watching my angel grin and laugh and cover his face with embarrassment as people loved him.

Somebody sat down on the bench beside me, brushing of a small chunk of snow before taking his seat and lacing his fingers together.

I didn't spare him a glance at first, but then I caught sight of his face in my peripheral vision and had to look back.

That face.

My heart skipped a beat and my breath left my lungs when I realized my father was sitting beside me. 

"Hello, Jimin," said a familiar, deep, and exhausted voice. He looked so, startlingly different that it was hard to recognize him. Gray made up the majority of the hairs that stuck out of his baseball hat, and a  scruffy beard masked his usual straight-laced and cold expression. He wore a worn-looking black jacket that could have been nice at one point, but now it looked like it was my age at least. 

"Hello," I said shortly, unable to look away as I bowed stiffly.

He took a deep breath and shifted on the bench, glancing towards my friends for a second before continuing. "Will you walk with me?"

Confused, scared, pissed off, and uncertain, I got to my feet and followed him towards the woods.

"How have you been?" he asked gruffly, tightly, walking with his hands shoved into his pockets.

I stared at him, unsure why the hell he was here and why the hell he was asking such questions. "Fine, how have you been?"

"Better," he said carefully, gazing around at the snowy woods spanning to our left. "I stopped drinking about ten months ago."

I raised my eyebrows, something perking up deep in my heart at his words. "You stopped drinking?"

He nodded, smiling a bit sadly. "I talked to your mother last night. She seems to be doing well."

"Yeah, I like Jongmyeon a lot," I said flatly, turning away from him and looking down at the path we walked.

"Jimin..."

I didn't reply.

"How's...Jungkook?"

My heart froze at his words. In my entire life, that was the first time my father had referred to Jungkook as anything but the . Now he was just...Jungkook. 

That was when I knew something was very different.

"He was in America for four years, getting his cancer treated," I responded, glancing over at my appa nervously. "He just came back yesterday out of nowhere. That's him over there."

"I know. Your mother said you all would be here," he said with a faint chuckle, scratching at his beard. "Is he cured?"

"No," I muttered. "He's getting a surgery today that should determine whether he lives a full life or dies before the summer."

Appa was silent for a moment, watching me with unfamiliar warm eyes. I wasn't used to anything but ice coming from his gaze. "I'm sorry, Jimin."

"It's okay," I said quietly, almost smiling. Almost. "I'm just glad he's back."

Four years ago I would have cringed even if I'd had the guts to say that to him, but now I felt nothing. I was immune to the fear I once had for that man. He seemed to notice to, and an expression I couldn't quite read overtook his face. Proud? Regretful? Nostalgic?

"What are you doing here?" I asked vaguely after a short silence, wishing I knew how to ask something more specific but unable to cut short my questions into anything else. My heart was pounding but encased in steel, both anxious for comfort and terrified at the thought of proximity with my father.

"I came to apologize," he said in a deep, quiet voice, catching my eyes for a moment before glancing back at my friends. They were watching us now; I saw Jungkook wringing his hands, his eyes big enough to see even at this distance.

"Guilty conscience, huh?" I said dryly, looking ahead at the snow-cloaked path instead of the people around me.

He tensed as he tried to formulate an answer. "Partially that, though I feel worse for you and your mother than I do for myself."

It was so weird. My appa was talking about his feelings. I felt like I was filming for a movie, and I itched all over, uncomfortably wiggling my shoulders as I tried to convince myself this was real. Too many ghosts from my past had showed up in the past twenty-four hours for me to handle.

"I'm sorry, Jimin."

It's okay.

"I'm sorry, son."

It's okay. My heart ached at his words, but I was afraid to open my mouth. I was scared tears would start flowing and never stop.

"Jimin..."

"You hit me," I ground out, the lump in my throat aching as I forced my voice around it. "You beat the  out of me. You even hit umma..."

I wasn't sure where the anger was coming from. It had been years since I thought about my father, and the anger was light even when the abuse was going on...maybe because back then I was blinded by the idea of getting to be with Jungkook. Maybe now, everything from four years was starting to build up and spill over.

But I couldn't stay mad at him. I never could. Never.

"I know. I'm sorry, son. I've changed..."

"Have you?"

He just nodded, holding my gaze wordlessly, begging with his eyes.

Pushing all thoughts aside, I halted in my tracks and whirled around, slamming into his middle and wrapping my arms around his strong waist and burying my face in the wind-worn jacket.

Appa put his arms around me for the first time in over a decade. He tousled my hair and patted my back while I cried, and a plague consuming something deep inside me lightened up and floated away.

...

2nd Half: Jungkook's Point of View

I squinted after Jimin as he walked with the mysterious man, wondering if it was someone from work he needed to talk to or something. When they started embracing, I was beyond confused.

"Who is that?" I asked Taehyung, who was listening into the closed-top slide to see if he could hear the ocean.

"No idea," Taehyung said cheerfully, chasing after a snow-leaping Hoseok and leaving me to watch Jimin with increasing bewilderment.

"I think it's his dad," Namjoon put in from the bench, giving me a stern look.

"His dad?" My jaw dropped. "His dad came back?"

Namjoon just shrugged. "Ask him."

"He just texted me," Taehyung announced, pulling his head out of the slide and sticking one hand up in the air proudly, eyes on his phone. "He's going to a restaurant with his dad. He wants the rest of us to meet him downtown in half an hour."

So for half an hour I was left to ponder why Jimin's appa was back for a visit after four years.

Surely it wasn't similar to my reasoning for visiting...I didn't think Jimin would be able to take that. I didn't want to see him have to take that.

While it was true that I wasn't afraid of death, I was afraid of hurting Jimin. Maybe if he thought I was okay with death, it would make things easier on him in the end.

However and whenever the end decided to happen.

The restaurant Jimin and his father chose was small and cozy, with high ceilings and stained glass windows. It seemed European to me, and I wondered if Jimin's father picked a place to eat that was similar to where he'd been staying for