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Every night, at exactly 12:37, Jimin thinks about it.
Tucked in his yellow blanket, Jimin stares at the blue beam of his alarm clock. It’s the only light in his bleak room, but he’s become accustomed to the darkness.
12:37.
12:37-
There’s a knife underneath Jimin’s bed, the initials JK engraved on the side. Since the night he picked it up from the stained carpet, he hasn’t touched it.
It doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about it.
12:38.
Sighing, Jimin rolls over, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
~*~
The school allowed Jimin to slack. They didn’t check his homework. If he skipped, they didn’t cause a ruckus. Tests were pushed back, pushed back again, until the teachers simply forgot to give him a grade.
“I’m sorry,” they’d tell him after class, when he’d question about his grades. Whenever he decided to go to school, that is. Half of the time, it didn’t seem like they were referring to the tests.
“It’s fine,” Jimin would force a smile. The muscles would hurt whenever he forced them, and his smile would fall into its usual line when he left the room. Blank, expressionless, empty; just like him.
Before, people called Jimin the school’s angel. Always throwing out support, smiles, and affection to those who needed it most.
Now, well- they don’t call Jimin anything at all.
~*~
In the deep stages of his dreams, Jungkook’s skin is always pristine. Like a map, Jimin traces his fingertips against the entire surface- under his chin, around his bellybutton, between his legs.
“You’re precious,” Jungkook never fails to whisper against his ear.
Jimin gets chills.
The chills intensify when Jimin’s gripping around Jungkook’s wrists, touching their noses together, tears tearing Jimin’s eyes as he attempts to create the words. It always chokes him up because the indentations always form before the words do.
“Don’t do it,” Jimin chokes out.
“Do what?” Jungkook cocks his head, eyebrows furrowing in concern.
Blood runs down Jimin’s arms, cascading down his stomach, spilling onto the carpet.
Jungkook’s cocking his head, staring as Jimin’s lip wobbles. “It’s alright,” he says softly. “There’s no need to cry.”
When Jimin removes his hands from Jungkook’s wrist, he can see the deep cuts gnarled into his wrists, the same image that was burned into his head several months ago.
Dropping to his knees, tears mixing into the thick blood, Jimin throws back his head and wails.
~*~
Nobody knows why Jungkook did it.
Jimin does.
A few days after stumbling upon his body, Jimin was shuffling through his messy desk when he’d stumbled upon a perfectly creased piece of paper. Heart lodged in his throat, Jimin had opened the paper, trying to hold it together when he’d seen his name written in that familiar, beautiful cursive.
And this- written in bold, black ink- is what the letter said.
Precious,
There’s something I need to tell you. I won’t be here to explain it verbally, or to explain it at all face to face, so read this carefully.
There are people in this world who you love. They are your light, and your passions, and the future seems brighter with them in your life. For me, you were that person. If you pushed, I pulled. When you ran, I chased after you. If you wanted to play games, I’d play along as well.
This isn’t a game, though.
I’ve been trapped in a dark place for months. The light, even yours, doesn’t reach me anymore. I’ve tried, and tried, and tried to change something in my life to allow the light in. Nothing worked.
When I was around people, I’d feel more alone than when I was locked up in my room. When I kissed you underneath the old oak tree in the park, I felt the light envelop my entire body. The moment you said it was getting late, I felt it drain into the earth. No matter where I am or who I’m with, I feel completely separated from reality. There’s no better way to explain it- even though I’m alive, I’m dead.
That’s when I decided to let go.
Don’t lose yourself because I’m gone. Keep yourself healthy, go out, make new friends, kiss strangers, do whatever the fuck you dream of doing. Chase it, grasp it, hold it close. My dreams were long dead when I chose to do this.
Please, don’t lose yours.
I love you.
-JK
~*~
12:36.
For some reason, Jimin’s pulled the box from underneath his bed. In its black holster, the knife weighs heavily against his thighs.
12:36.
Jimin wonders what Jungkook’s last thought was before he slid the knife across his wrists. From the contents of the letter, Jimin’s positive of who it was.
12:37.
“…story that will grip the nation. On the night of July 27th, Park Jimin placed a 119 call after finding his close friend, Jeon Jungkook, lying dead in the Jeon’s living room. Slits covered both of his wrist, differing in length and depth. A knife was located beside Jungkook’s fist. After police swarmed the house and medics examined the body, they confirmed it as suicide…”
Jimin never will fully understand why Jungkook did what he did. He does not know what it feels like to suffer in the darkness alone, even when surrounded by those who love you. He does not know how long Jungkook was suffering, what created it, and when it eventually enveloped him.
However, there’s one thing he does know- he will not make the same mistake.
There’s a tremor to his hands as he picks up the knife. Sleek, expensive, dangerous. His fingertip runs across the edge of the blade. He does it again, and again. The blood refuses to spill. The tears do.
Placing the knife back into its holster, Jimin tucks it underneath his bed. Wiping at his eyes, he glances at his alarm clock.
12:38.
Curling the yellow blanket around his body, Jimin steps over dirty clothes, opened books, and half-full Gatorade bottles. The blinds creak when Jimin opens them up.
The moon shines against his face, a beautiful, white beam of light. It scares away the darkness lingering throughout his room.
Jimin stares at the moon. “I know you’re up there,” he whispers. There are more tears itching at his eyes, but he doesn’t allow them to escape. The darkness is gone- he will not live in it anymore.
He won’t.
Hopping into bed, Jimin cuddles into his blanket and faces the window. The moon stares at him. Jimin stares back.
“Wait for me,” he whispers.
Beside the moon, a star suddenly twinkles.
Jimin smiles.