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“It’s like, I don’t know… I don’t know how to propose a company escape to Alaska? Argentina? Agrabah? Oh, darn it, that’s not a place, that’s from a fucking Disney movie–”
You’re not entirely sure why you’re ranting about your write-up to Jimin. Most of the time you’d get more productive answers out of talking to, say, a brick wall, or pile of rocks. But Jimin is there, and listening, and existing, and you suppose that will just have to do.
So something must be in the air today, or perhaps it’s a full moon, because he answers you.
“It depends,” he starts, crossing the length of your small home office silently, “what all do they want? Mountains? Even then, there’s a difference between the ones that are so tall they turn blue and the clouds surround the peaks and the ones that have succumbed to the stones and just make you feel small. Snow is an important one. Pervasive snow is miserable to navigate but if they’ll be indoors it’s a good way to forget who you are when you look out the window. But a little snow, just the dusty kind, feels more like a fairy tale. That’s maybe not a great mood for a business retreat. The beach is nice for a taste of freedom, but then you have to choose between the cerulean seafoam against miles of white sand that will burn all your fragile skin to a crisp as opposed to the choking power of the dark waters you find up north smashing against black rocks like glass shards. I like those better. I tried jumping from the cliffs once, but all I got was wet.”
He’s smiling, vaguely, when you glance up at him. Your eyes are burning with the desire to cry, because you truly, madly, deeply hate thinking about how much he has wanted to die and detesting how casually he can just bring it up, and with a vengeful sniffle you rub at your face and take a steadying breath before replying to him.
“Here’s a better question,” you grumble. “What’s the best place you’ve ever visited? Somewhere that didn’t make you suicidal.”
Jimin’s mouth twitches. There’s something quiet and sulky in his eyes, almost resentful as he turns away to look out your window where there is only the atrament of night.
“Here.”